Mini-lesson in the context of John

I read John 9-12 yesterday, having some sense that it might constitute a mid-length section with significant context.  I didn’t have a strong overall sense of the preceding material in John 7 and 8, but I know what’s in chapter 13, and it just seemed that chapters 9 through 12 might make a good reading.  In an important sense, the entire text of John is a context.  In another sense, a paragraph (or passage of similar length) is a context, but chapters 9 through 12 seemed good for today.

In the course of chapter 9, I came across this question:

==>   “Where is he?”  (John 9:12a)

Now, one could go all sermony and take a roundabout, off-base excursion based on that verse, like so:

Church, we need to be asking that question!  Where is he?  Where is he?  Where is Jesus?

And is he here?  Well, yes he is.  He is so present for us, but if we don’t feel his presence, whose fault is it?  Has he left us, or have we left him?  Worse yet, have we lost our eyes to see him?

Jesus!  Jesus!  We’re calling out for you now?  Are you here?  Do you hear our cries, O Lord Jesus?

O taste and see that the Lord is good, said the Psalmist.  The songwriter said, “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,” and his truth is marching on, you know, but if you aren’t standing in the path of the march, will you see, or will you have to ask where he is? 

Isaiah the prophet said, “Mine eyes have seen the King,” and Jesus is our King, but can we not see him or find him?  Find him indeed.  We must not be seeking . . . for the Lord said that those that seek will find.  Have you found Jesus?  Have you found the Lord?  If not, why not?  Today is the day of salvation for you.  You need to reach out and find the Lord, for as the apostle Paul told the Athenians, he is the one in whom we live and move and have our being.  If that’s the case, church . . . if we’re all having our being in him, how could we not reach out and find him?  Would we really have to ask the question “Where is he?” if we are existing in him, as he is in us, and is in the Father?  Where is the Father, and where is Jesus, if not in us? 

And all of that is refuse from a textual standpoint.  There are quite a few good intentions inhabiting such a gushing, composite mockery of a veritable horde of preachers and writers.  But there are just as many missteps with the text, context, and sermonizing.  The reference to Isaiah is a misstep, and it has nothing to do with the Psalm.  The sidestep to a sort of spiritual “finding” of Jesus today is a misstep.  Paul has nothing to do with John, and the Athenians have nothing to do with the the Jews (or “Judeans,” as N.T. Wright’s version has it¹).  Et cetera.  Now, back to the original context.

In the JohnGospel, who asked “where is he?”  And what was going on?

This was immediately after the man born blind had been healed.  The Jews had asked him to confirm his identity (after his parents had passed the buck in fear of being disfellowshipped).  The Jews asked the man how he had been healed (apparently not really believing it), and he told them, and then they didn’t say “Wow.  How great for you.  Praise God!”  On the contrary, they said “Where is he?”

In my view of this text, this question shows how far off track humans can get when they have something to protect—and minds and hearts that are not interested in being taught or shown anything.  They didn’t pause even to give glory to God, regardless of their belief or anti-belief in Jesus.  Rather, they just wanted to know where this supposed healer was, presumably so they could harass him.  And so they did.  Others were coming to belief—and indeed the reader sees pathway to belief throughout this gospel (e.g., the end of John 1, John 3, John 4, John 9, John 11, and other spots).  What’s notable here is the lack of belief among Jewish powers.  That they would ask “Where is he?” points up that this group is in a camp of non-belief.  They want to deal with the “infraction” of healing on the Sabbath rather than celebrating the miracle, the healer, and the healed one.

This is our Jesus:  one who healed, in the face of Jewish opposition.  One who identified himself to the formerly blind man (later in the chapter), and one who was flying in the face of the existing religious structures—to the point that the authorities were more interested in investigating this provocateur than in rejoicing in a miracle.

→  This brief post adds to what has been said above, and it also links to two other posts about John 9.

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¹ In our historical context, still less than 100 years after the Nazi holocaust, it is understandable that a thoughtful scholar such as N.T. Wright uses the term “Judeans” instead of “Jews” in his NT text of John 9.  In our time, given our obsession with semitism, anti-semitism, and anti-anti-semitism, who would want to be accused of downing today’s Jews as a race?  What the Nazis did has nothing directly to do with the Jews of the 1st century, but those people had what is now termed “Jewish” faith, and they were also living in Judea, so Wright opted for “Judeans,” presumably to avoid a connection with Hitler’s persecution of Jews nineteen hundred years later.

So, what to call the antagonists in John 9, in order to identify them properly?  It’s almost OK with me that the translation use the term “Judeans.”  I do fear, though, that a modern reader would tend to lose the connection to the Jewish faith-system in John 9.  It’s more than geography, in other words.  One wouldn’t say “Baghdadeans” and leave it there if one were discussing a spiritual/religious event in Iraq.  One would rather likely refer to the Shiites from Baghdad.  Similarly, referring to the antagonists people in John 9 as “Jews in Judea,” “Jewish power group,” or simply “Jews” (because the context shows they were in Judea) would seem just fine.

Who or what leads?

Leadership is well considered in terms of concept over action or role, but let’s think about roles and activities first.  During most activities, someone is probably leading, one way or another.

In most traditional ballroom dancing, the man leads.  His female partner may be more assertive off the dance floor, but she does not lead there.

In team sports, there are leaders.  You got your quarterbacks, your point guards.  In baseball, a team captain may be a noteworthy leader, in addition to managers and coaches.  Major league baseball has sometimes enjoyed player-managers who both led the team from the bench and contributed actively on the field.  It can get more complicated, though, if we think of activities and not only identified roles.   ◊ ◊ ◊

When Jackie Robinson entered the majors, 73 years ago Wednesday, who was it who led the team?  General Manager Branch Rickey?  Interim manager Clyde Sukeforth?  Shortstop Pee Wee Reese?  Jackie himself?  Someone on the Boston Braves (the opposing team)?  Depending on the moment, it could have been any one of them.

Conductors are musical and artistic leaders, but, even in a conducted instrumental ensemble, it is often good practice for individual players or sections to take the lead from time to time.  Dr. Lauren Reynolds, now Director of Bands at one of my alma mater institutions, speaks to this aspect of leadership in ensembles within the first three minutes of this fine pedagogical video.

Leadership by players is even more necessary, if not more advantageous, when there is no conductor, e.g., with chamber groups such as brass quintets and string quartets.  It isn’t the same person who is the actual leader in every moment.  Just as in baseball, the nature of the music (or other practicalities such as a line of sight) might suggest who should lead at a given time.

Now to move toward the conceptual and invisible (as opposed to the more observable) actions of leadership.  When we ponder something, there are primary thoughts that take the lead.  Who or what leads us in ways of faith?  Who or what takes the reins as we think about God—and how to live in Him and for Him?  When we think about something, there are primary thoughts that take the lead.  Hear N.T. Wright as he differentiates between theology and text:

I have long had the sense that theology, especially philosophical theology, and perhaps even analytic theology, has tended to start with its own abstract concepts and, in expounding and adjusting them, has drawn in bits and pieces of Scripture on the way.  That is to say, it’s often system first, scripture second.

That, I suppose, is better than nothing, but it can provide the illusion of engagement with the text rather than allowing the text to lead the way.   – N.T. Wright Online  (emphases mine  -bc)

We ought to be alarmed by the common “illusion” that Wright spotlights above.  Personally, far more often than weekly, I see the effects of a theological-system-driven Christianity.  It has far more dangerous ramifications than a baseball team driven by the team owner’s greed, or a band led by an errant bassoonist.  It is our scripture texts that ought to steer our ships.  The effects of the illusion of scripture’s primacy run deep.  They are difficult to discern, and even more difficult to admit.  People will speak of theology and text as though they are part of the same ball o’ wax, and they are, in a sense.  Still, it is someone uncommon for a person to realize that theology is driving things for him; it is rarer still for someone to allow the scripture text to lead.  Conductors these days¹ will typically allow the musical text to steer, over and above their personal philosophies or other factors such as the perceived needs of the moment.  Such conductors are admirable . . . and Christians ought to let their texts guide, too!

A recent study opportunity from Coffee With Paul did allow the biblical text to set the agenda.  In the process of examining and applying the John 2 text about the upsetting of the traders in the temple courts, one of our study partners in that group commented, “The thought of ‘God is constantly at work turning over evil in the world’ is comforting and reassuring!”  And in saying that, she was leading, in a most welcome and conceptual sense.  Her thought was primarily philosophical, but she had been guided first by a focus on the text.

What or who should lead in churches, practically speaking?  That’s a different topic, and one I’ll reserve for a different day (or maybe never again!).  But I’ll say this:  it is a philosophical theology, not a text, that assumes that the leader in a church should be “the pastor.”

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¹ In a bygone era, conductor Eugene Ormandy once said, quite disrespectfully of the composer or his musical text, “That’s the way Stravinsky was—bup, bup, bup—The poor guy’s dead now.  Play it legato.”

Epilogue: perceiving the Judges

The history of Israelite Judges is an account of a series of so-called deliverers.  Each one, in sequence, appears to have been victorious over this or that people group, in this or that way, for some length of time.  John Bright has offered a neat historical portrait:

It must be understood that the Israel of the early days in Palestine was not at all a nation as we would understand the term.  On the contrary, she was a tribal League, a loose confederation of clans united one to another about the worship of the common God.  There was no statehood or central government of any sort.  The clans were independent units unto themselves.  Within the clans there was the recognition there was recognition of the moral authority of the sheikhs, or elders, but organized authority was lacking. . . .  [At Shiloh] the tribesmen gathered on the feast days to seek the presence of their God and to renew their allegiance to him.  This tribal structure corresponds perfectly to the covenant-people idea and may be assumed to be an outworking of it.  The covenant league was a brotherhood; it was ruled only by the law of the covenant of God.

One may best to see how the primitive order in Israel operated from a reading of the book of Judges.  Here we see the clans maintaining a precarious existence, surrounded by foes but without government, central authority, or state organization of any sort.  In times of danger there would arise a hero, one upon whom the spirit of Yahweh rushed (Judg. 3:10; 14:6), called a judge (shôphēt).  He would rally the surrounding clans and deal with the foe.  While his victories no doubt gain him prestige, he was in no sense a king.  His authority was neither absolute over all Israel nor permanent; in no case was it hereditary. -John Bright, The Kingdom of God, 31

I’ll add just a comment or two here.  First, I don’t think it’s quite accurate to paint all the “judges” as men over whom “the spirit of Yahweh” rushed.  The judges were a motley crew, so I’d like to guard against a monolithic view that considers only the stories, say, of Gideon, Samson, and maybe Deborah.

Next, Bright has observed some important limitations.  The Judge was not a king; s/he was not absolutely or broadly in power; and there were no dynasties.

Also important from a higher vantage point is this textually based, yet also philosophical probe:  Texts may have multiple aspects or even “purposes” in different times, with different audiences.  A reader in, say, 500 B.C.E. would naturally have read the Judges text differently in his historical/cultural context than you and I read it in our situation.  And that variance ought not to threaten the sincere student; rather, if we’ll allow it, the cognizance of different contexts can illuminate.

In this brief series on the Judges, I have offered but a few snippets.  I didn’t care to go into Ehud or spent much time with a few others.  I’ll conclude this series before the sad case of Eli’s sons and Samuel’s unique influence.  Overall, in reading and observing, I think of all the history of God and his people—not only during the actual time of the Judges, but during the centuries and millennia to follow.  And I’m essentially led to wonder this:  Is the whole history of Judges/Deliverers recorded for ancient Israel and New Israel to see that those deliverers were nothing but human, whereas God is the only One who delivers and is sovereign?  Although some times of peace lasted 40 years or more, no one could ultimately deliver Israel except God.

Did Israel ever comprehend God’s utterly singular sovereignty?  Do we?

Interlude
In the tale of Abimelech, a son of Gideon, the name Ebed or Obed appears.  I suppose it’s doubtful that this would be the same Obed who was the son of Boaz, since Abimelech’s clan is said to have lived quite a bit north of Boaz’s.  Yet the later Israelite reader might connect the two stories, and, after all, the story of Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz is set in the time of the Judges (Ruth 1:1).  At least, we might note that Abimelech (meaning something like “father-king” or “my father is King”) figures into the Judges narrative, in which the Israelites are hopelessly un-delivered.  On the other hand, Naomi’s husband is Elimelech (meaning something like “my God is king”).  Something tells me the reader would pick up more than a name here.  Not only Naomi is given renewal and hope; Ruth, a Moabite outsider of all things, is also given a place within God’s providence.  Here, God is a benevolent, gracious King.  We remember here, with John Bright, that “the idea of monarchy [had been] consciously rejected.  This was Illustrated in the words with which stout Gideon spurned a crown:  ‘I will not rule over you. . . .'”   Bright, 32

Recapitulation
As Bright observed re:  the “primitive theocracy” with a given Judge, “it was the direct rule of God over his people through his designated representative.” (32)   In a very real sense, the entirety of the Christian believer’s life may be summed up in two aspects:  the perceived place/role of God the King, and doing His will.  More succinctly put:  Kingdom and discipleship.  God is our Emperor/King, and we owe Him allegiance, which might also be termed loyal living as a disciple of Jesus, who was God’s “designated representative.”

Coda:  Excursus
N.T. Wright has asserted these truths:

“[T]the call to faith is also a call to obedience.  It must be, because it declares that Jesus is the world’s rightful Lord and Master.  (The language Paul used of Jesus would have reminded his hearers at once of the language they were accustomed to hearing about Caesar.)  That’s why Paul can speak about “the obedience of faith.’  Indeed, the word the early Christians used for “faith” can also mean “loyalty” or “allegiance.”  It’s what emperors ancient and modern have always demanded of their subjects.”

Living by “faith,” therefore, is not merely saying “Jesus, I trust in You,” although that attitude and posture are important.  Living by faith is also living loyally, acting obediently, being a disciple of the one everlasting “emperor.”

MWM: The favorites of 3 Paul scholars

Once upon a time, three celebrated, published, widely respected scholars of Pauline literature¹ were brought together for a panel discussion.  Before closing the evening, the host asked them a more personal question:  “What is your favorite hymn”?

There were no “Amazing Grace” or “Old Rugged Cross” answers.  (Those are not really hymns, anyway.)  There was no negligible “”Well, my grandmother used to like . . .” musing or “When I was a kid, we sang . . . “ garbage.

No, these deeply educated, inspiringly faith-filled men gave some very worthwhile answers, in my opinion:

“O for a Thousand Tongues To Sing,” said one.

“And Can It Be?” said another.

And the third cited “This Is My Father’s World.”

And I was rejuvenated by their choices.

Maybe my dismally negative view of most congregational singing is premature.

Or, more likely, I haven’t been traveling in the circles that these men travel in.  They are thoroughly conversant with Pauline scripture, not to mention being apparently personally devoted to Paul’s theologies — which led them to fine choices when asked about their favorite hymns.  Each of the panel scholars readily relates the words and thoughts of the song to his personal knowledge of Paul.  (If any reader is interested in listening to this panel discussion, just post a comment here, and I’ll dig up the link in a reply.)

Read the words sometime.  Sing the songs.  Or, if you just can’t stand Christian music conceived in other centuries, write your own music for these words.  Whatever you do, spend some time with the words of these songs.  They are worth it.

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

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¹ Ross Wagner, Bruce Corley, and N.T. Wright

Patternism? (off-base and yet on-track)

N.T. “Tom” Wright, as I suggested in the last post, is not always right.  He seems to be a decent fellow, often has much to offer, and is a gifted communicator — or at least his style communicates well to me.  He is not always right, but on the other hand, he often has something insightful to say.  Since I’m only almost-through with Vol. 1 of his two-volume Acts commentary, I imagine I’ll have more Wright stuff to write about in the future.

Anyway, I would like to comment briefly on this sentence, which was contained in the passage I shared yesterday:

[S]ince there is in fact no single, identical pattern of Christian initiation running right across our earliest documents, the church has, in my view wisely, developed patterns which broadly correspond to what seems to have been done by the first apostles themselves, as much by decisions taken as they went along as by carefully thought-out regulation.

I would first of all agree with the implication that patternism in the sense of blueprints and legal codes do not run rampant through the pages of the New Covenant documents.  There is, though, in point of fact, quite a distinct, common thread related to “Christian initiation,” and it is seen

• unmistakably, throughout the historical-narrative pages of Acts (chapters 2, 8, 9, 10, 16, & 19) … but, it might be pointed out, not at the ends of chapters 3 and 13)
• notably, in theological, explanatory contexts Galatians, Romans, Colossians, and 1 Peter
• practically, in today’s churches that are more text-based than history-based

Mr.¹ Wright, your denomination does not appear to be on a valid track with its practice of “confirmation,” but I greatly appreciate that you find connections between authentic Christian practice today and what the apostles did and taught in the first century!

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¹ I didn’t take time to look up how Anglican bishops are properly addressed in-house, because not only do I not care, but I suspect that Tom Wright has long ago moved beyond caring about titles and formalities!

World-renowned theologians can be off-base (1)

I learned to respect the name N.T. Wright when he was on the “good side” (contra Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, widely considered to be bona fide heretics) of the “Jesus at 2000” debate.  I have since picked up two of Wright’s commentaries and have glanced a few times at his website.  He’s a good communicator and is renowned as an Anglican bishop, theologian, writer, and speaker.

However, Wright is not always right.  Case in point from Part One of his commentary on Acts:

As a bishop, one of the things I do quite a lot is to go round laying hands on people and praying for God’s holy spirit to come upon them.  It is often a very moving and exciting time, not least at the Easter Vigil when we come in darkness into the great cathedral, led by the candle symbolizing the risen Jesus, and then, with lights coming on, playing on the organ and other instruments, and shouts of “Alleluia!,” we celebrate the resurrection.  We renew the vows made at our baptism; and then, sometimes pausing to baptize people as well, we welcome into our fellowship through confirmation (the laying on of the bishop’s hands, with prayer) those who had been baptized earlier, probably as infants, and who now want to make real for themselves the promises which had been made on their behalf some while before.

When people ask me, as they sometimes do, what it’s all about, the present passage (Acts 8:4-25 -bc) is one of the ones we usually go back to.  I do not imagine for a moment that our modern practice, in the church to which I happen to belong, is an exact reproduction of what Luke says took place in Samaria on that occasion.  I am not an apostle come from Jerusalem, and the people I confirm are not Samaritans, needing for the first time to know the presence and power of the spirit.  But since there is in fact no single, identical pattern of Christian initiation running right across our earliest documents, the church has, in my view wisely, developed patterns which broadly correspond to what seems to have been done by the first apostles themselves, as much by decisions taken as they went along as by carefully thought-out regulation.  I should say, by the way, that sometimes when I meet people I have confirmed a year or so before they have remarkable stories to tell of what God has been doing in their lives since then.  It is by no means, as sceptics sometimes assume, an empty and irrelevant old bit of ritual.  (N.T. Wright, Acts for Everyone, Part One, Chapters 1-2, pp. 125-127)

Now, before I protest several elements of the good bishop’s words above, I want to say that I am not throwing away or defacing his books.  They’re borrowed from the library.  I am not returning them in disgust.  I can still learn from this man, this Anglican official who has a great deal of insight and communicative gift.  But he can be off-base, and here, off-base he is.

I’ll also say that there are a couple of very important, apt insights contained in the middle of Wright’s messy, mixed bag.  The very first problem is his conclusion to this topic of discourse:  we are apparently supposed to believe that because he says people have great stories to tell, his “confirmation” practice is valid.

I enjoy poking holes, or at least attempting to poke them, in other people’s logic.  In so doing, I am probably not doing my best “Golden Rule” work, but as a perpetually aspiring neo-Protestant, I continue to believe this is important work.  So, here I go.  I count five subjective (or less-than-fact-based) elements in the quoted passage above:

1. Wright’s memory (in his humanness, he may be conflating and amalgamating events)
2. Wright’s perception of the people’s genuineness (his judgment is not flawless)
3. The people’s actual genuineness (they may be as interested in impressing the great bishop as in recounting actual happenings)
4. The people’s memory (they are human, too, and could have forgotten sequences and times)
5. The people’s perception of what God is “doing in their lives” (this phrase is always dubious)

Conclusion:  never trust a bishop.  Just kidding.  Actually, never trust any human.  (Not kidding.)  We are all flawed.  (Yes, even the Pope.  If any Catholics are reading, you need to know this.  Don’t get all hot-and-bothered and take leave of your senses.  Down deep, you know that the assertion of papal infallibility is ridonculous, and you need to toss it overboard from the ship of your life and beliefs.)

Despite the goodness of heart and thoroughness of thought that N.T. “Tom” Wright manifests so regularly, he is not always right.  The implicit suggestion that the laying on of a denominational bishop’s hands means something is questionable.  And the pragmatically, morally absurd notion of “baptizing” an infant (of course, they are just sprinkled or poured upon, not really baptized, for that would be child abuse) is eclipsed in the spiritual plane by the inability to see that there was actually a pattern of initiation–shown pretty clearly in the record we call Acts of the Apostles.

Denominational loyalties and mass marketing are enemies of truth.

Mark wrap-up (1)

Our Bible study group has “completed” its study of Mark.  Although Bible study is never finished, there comes a point when one says, “We’ve gotten about all we can from Mark, given our limited intellects.”  That point came a week or so ago; as part of the wrap-up, I prepared a summary document for our fellow studyers.  Below are some highlights from the highlights, for which I give credit to Greg Fay, Ben Witherington III, N.T. Wright, and Kenneth Wuest.

Literary traits of Mark

• Mark likes a quick pace and “action” (commonly observed, but even more noted when one reads the entire gospel in a sitting!)
• Mark’s style
  • Not carefully wrought
  • “Punchy,” Vivid word pictures
  • Jesus’ “looks of inquiry”
  • Hunger, sleep
  • Jesus’ attitudes toward people:  pity, wonder, sighing, grieving
• Non-chronological nature
  • aspects of the structure of Mark give clues as to which pericopes–literary sections–appear to be in chronological sequence and/or proximity
  • the assumption by scholars is frequently that Mark pays little attention to chronology in painting a picture of our Jesus
• Mark is fond of
  • Gk. historic present tense
    • “When they had come near to Jerusalem”
    • He sends two of His disciples
    • While He was still speaking, Judas comes
  • Aramaic expressions as an evidence of Peter’s eyewitness—according to one author, “There were times when Peter could hear again the very sound of Jesus’ voice and apparently could not help relaying things to Mark in the very words Jesus spoke.”
  • Picturesque and/or human, vivid details:  “Sat down in 100s and 50s,” “Took them in His arms and blessed them, laying His hands upon them,” “asleep on a pillow”
• Few (but meaty!) teaching sections, e.g., parables
• “Triptych” or “sandwich” structures, chiastic structures
  • this element of Mark’s literary structure continues to inspire me and instruct me — it’s quite compelling!
  • Ex.: 2:1-12

To be continued …

Sola scriptura

N.T. Wright notes, in context of a presentation he made, “. . . My aim was to understand Paul in general and Romans in particular better than I had done before, as part of my heartfelt and lifelong commitment to scripture, and to the sola scriptura principle, believing that the better the church understands and lives by scripture, the better its worship, preaching and common life will be.”

‘Nuff said?