Jesus as "Prophet": Part II

Jesus as an Apocalyptic (Oracular) Prophet: Schweitzer, Sanders, Casey, & Ehrman
If Jesus' mentor was eschatological, and Jesus' followers were eschatological, it would seem logical to suppose that Jesus was eschatological.
Within this section, we will examine key scholars that have emphasised Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet. These scholars all tend to bring a fairly literal interpretation to the apocalyptic elements of Jesus' ministry, and see Jesus as a prophet proclaiming, and expecting, the imminent end of the world. We will begin by examining the work of Albert Schweitzer, who is the single greatest impetus for this perspective, and then will comment on the works of E.P Sanders, P.M. Casey, and, most recently, Bart Ehrman. Finally this section will conclude by critically reflecting on the contributions of these scholars.
Albert Schweitzer: Jesus the Failed Apocalyptic Prophet
Albert Schweitzer believed that Jesus understood himself to be the final prophet before the cataclysmic in-breaking of the kingdom of God that would bring about the end of the world. Based on the fact that the Synoptics only recount Jesus going to one Passover in Jerusalem, Schweitzer argues that Jesus' ministry lasted only one year. He argues that Jesus was baptised by John in the Spring, and expected the kingdom of God to arrive at harvest time. From this perspective, Jesus sees his prophetic call to repentance as sowing the seeds that will ripen into the final harvest. Thus, Jesus sends out his disciples and expects the kingdom of God to arrive when they come back. Yet the kingdom fails to come and this is a critical turning point for Jesus. When the disciples return, he departs from the crowds and awaits the kingdom “… in vain”. At this point, Schweitzer argues, Jesus realises that he must prophetically take on the suffering that would act as the birth pains of the new age — “[Jesus'] death must at last compel the coming of the kingdom”. And so Jesus goes to Jerusalem to die, expecting to be immediately raised to life along with all of the dead in the final resurrection. Yet even here, Jesus fails. Thus, Schweitzer concludes, “There is nothing more negative than the result of the critical study of the Life of Jesus”. Jesus, the apocalyptic prophet who expected the end of the world, was gravely mistaken and failed in his task.
E.P. Sanders: Jesus the Apocalyptic Prophet of Israel's Restoration
Schweitzer's view has had a lasting impact upon New Testament scholarship, and it is picked up and developed in the monumental work of Ed Sanders. Sanders follows Schweitzer and argues Jesus expected an imminent end to the age, and thus Jesus functioned as an eschatological prophet calling for the final renewal of Israel. Thus: “Jesus looked for the imminent direct intervention of God in history, the elimination of evil and evildoers, the building of a new glorious temple, and the reassembly of Israel with himself and his disciples as leading figures in it”. From this perspective, Sanders stresses that Jesus must not be understood as a social reformer but as an eschatological prophet, whose message cannot be reduced to a sociological construct, for it is too oriented towards an imminent futurity. Jesus expectations were primarily focused upon an other-worldly in-breaking. He saw himself as “God's last messenger” before the new order was created through a mighty act of God. Thus, Sanders follows Schweitzer and argues that Jesus was mistaken. Jesus is not unique as an apocalyptic prophet, but he ends up being unique because of the ongoing impact of his life and work.
Sanders differs from Schweitzer because he roots Jesus within a Jewish restoration movement, and not within the context of a global cataclysm. Furthermore, he prefers to rely on historical “facts” (such as the baptism by John, the calling of the twelve, and the outburst in the Temple), versus Schweitzer's reliance on, what Sanders calls, “dubious texts”. The “fact” that the Christian community, shortly after the death of Jesus, still espoused an eschatological perspective, and held on to apocalyptic expectations, further supports Sanders' thesis. It is these “facts” that lead Sanders to argue that “prophet” is the best type to apply to Jesus, rather than “charismatic” or “magician”. Therefore, Jesus was a “charismatic and autonomous prophet” and a “radical eschatologist” calling for the final restoration of Israel. In all of this, Sanders paints a rather unique picture of Jesus as a prophet because he removes the notion of repentance from Jesus' prophetic message. Jesus does not issue a national call for repentance, John had already done this, and so Jesus freely offers restoration to the rejects within Israel.
P.M. Casey: Jesus the Apocalyptic Renewal Prophet calling for Repentance
P.M. Casey follow closely on the heals of Schweitzer and Sanders and argues that Jesus was acting out of the prophetic conviction that he was to bring Israel back to God as the final messenger to bring the good news before the kingdom of God burst into history. Jesus saw his ministry as the final in-gathering of the flock of Israel. The main point of difference between Casey and Sanders is that Casey emphasises that the return of Israel to YHWH is premised upon repentance, and he therefore argues that Jesus prophetic call is a call to repent and return to YHWH. Casey also further emphasis the type of prophetic renewal that Jesus embodied — a renewal wherein Israel returned to God as Father, a renewal that centred on healings, and was marked by a concern for the poor.
Bart Ehrman: Jesus the Misguided first century Apocalypticist
Finally, we come to Bart Ehrman who is recently gaining notoriety for almost completely resurrecting Schweitzer's portrait of Jesus. Ehrman argues that Jesus was an apocalyptic prophet expecting the imminent end of the world. He argues that, on one hand, Jesus began his ministry associated with John, who was an apocalyptic prophet expecting the end of the world, and, on the other hand, the early Christian communities and early Christian tradition were quite apocalyptic. Therefore, with these apocalyptic bookends, Jesus must have been a “Jewish apocalypticist”. Jesus expected an imminent universal judgement upon all people and all institutions. Thus, he was an essentially misguided apocalyptic prophet, and Ehrman argues that the primary reason why this historical presentation of Jesus is rejected is because people desire a more relevant Jesus.
Critical Reflection
What then are we to make of the apocalyptic prophet Jesus presented by these scholars? To begin with, these scholars must be commended for desiring to locate Jesus within the context of first century Palestine and Second Temple Judaism. They are right to emphasis that Jesus was a prophet, and they are also correct to draw a close correlation between the prophetic and the apocalyptic and eschatological. The Jesus presented by these scholars is more thoroughly historical and Jewish than the Jesus of the preceding liberal tradition or the Jesus presented by much of the orthodox Christian tradition as well.
However, there are at least four areas where this approach to Jesus as apocalyptic prophet is problematic. The first has to do with the definition that these scholars give to “apocalyptic”. Tom Wright cogently argues that apocalyptic, within Second Temple Judaism, had very little to do with a cataclysmic end to the space-time universe. Wright argues, convincingly, that apocalyptic denotes a particular visionary form of literature and speech that discloses states of affairs not ordinarily made known to humans. Apocalyptic is used to refer to events within Israel's history in order to invest them with their full significance. Thus, to read apocalyptic sayings in a “crassly literalistic” manner is to fundamentally misunderstand the nature of apocalyptic, which tends towards cataclysmic imagery in order to reveal the magnitude of an event that remains thoroughly this-worldly. It is true that apocalyptic is full of dualities (between the present age and the age to come, between God and creation, between good and evil) but these dualities do not posit a duality between matter and spirit, as if all matter is evil and must be destroyed. Thus, all the events of apocalyptic language remain grounded in time and space and we can conclude with Wright that: “there is no justification for seeing 'apocalyptic' as necessarily speaking of the 'end of the world' in a literally cosmic sense”.
Secondly, we must note that the apocalyptic Jesus presented by these scholars is quite apolitical, and this is largely due to the emphasis upon the total futurity of Jesus' eschatology. Here the kingdom of God is coming, it is not yet present. However, this understanding of Jesus' prophetic ministry must be challenged, in part because apocalyptic, properly understood, was quite political. The apocalyptic form was favoured by those who “[found] themselves on the wrong side of history” and it is written cryptically so that it can pass by the authorities, thereby functioning as “the subversive literature of oppressed groups”. Thus, apocalyptic does not look for the end of the cosmos, it looks for the end of the present world order. From this perspective it must be said that Sanders, and those like Casey who follow him closely, have a far too narrow understanding of politics. Sanders argues for an apolitical Jesus because Jesus was not planing “to liberate and restore Israel by defeating the Romans and establishing an autonomous government”. Be that as it may, there are far more ways to be political, as we will discover when we explore the notion of Jesus as a social prophet.
Thirdly, we must question the form-critical methodology preferred by these scholars. Because the historical Jesus posited by these scholars differs so strongly from the Christian faith tradition (that tends to appeal to the Gospels as they exist today), these scholars posit various layers of redaction that must be peeled back in order to get to the true Jesus. However, the process for discerning what parts of the Gospels are genuine, and what parts are later additions, remains difficult and rather arbitrary. One wonders whether Sanders “facts” are any more solid than the “dubious” texts that he cuts out and discards.
Fourthly, because these scholars desire to build a Jesus of history that is not only different from, but also antagonistic to, the Christ of faith, the Jesus that is presented here is certainly no less than a prophet (albeit a failed one), but he is just as certainly no more than a prophet. This Jesus has little to do with Christological claims of divinity. When all such claims, and all such material is excluded a priori one wonders how accurate a portrait of Jesus can be presented. At the end of the day, these scholars should be commended for their desire to find a Jesus different than the Jesus that twentieth century Westerners are comfortable with, and for providing us with some helpful insights into Second Temple Judaism. Beyond that one should be rather cautious of their understanding of Jesus and first century apocalyptic prophets.
Finally it is worth noting how various elements of this portrait of Jesus as apocalyptic prophet have implicitly or explicitly impacted the present day charismatic prophetic movement. This movement is also largely apolitical, and is also often marked by the expectation of the imminent cataclysmic end of the world. Due to these things the contemporary charismatic prophetic movement would do well to listen to voices from the next group of scholars, to which we now turn.

Jesus as "Prophet": Part I

[This post is the first part of the paper that was the reason why I've hardly been blogging — it maxed out at 41pp. I seriously apologise for the absence of footnotes, I'm still struggling with how footnotes work with livejournal.]
Who do you say that I am? Jesus as an Apocalyptic, Social, and Charismatic Prophet
Introduction
The last century has seen an explosion of interest in the historical Jesus. Within the realm of New Testament scholarship, scholars talk about a Quest for the historical Jesus, a renewed quest, and now a third quest, incorporating new perspectives on Jesus. As various traditional, liberal, historical-critical, sociological, and neo-liberal voices have contributed to the discussion, Jesus has been provided with a wide variety of portraits. One meets Jesus as apocalyptic prophet, Jesus as teacher of timeless truth, Jesus as social radical, Jesus as Cynic philosopher, Jesus as magician, Jesus as wandering charismatic, and so on. St. John tells us that, were all the acts of Jesus written, the books would fill the world, but recent scholarship seems to be doing a fine job of filling libraries with books based on the material we already have!
This paper will examine Jesus as prophet. The prophetic type is somewhat ambiguous and has been filled with various levels of meaning by various scholars. Sometimes those meanings are played against each other, while at other times they are synthesised to varying degrees. There are basically three major divisions within scholarship that studies Jesus as prophet: those who see Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet, those who see Jesus as a social prophet, and those who see Jesus as a charismatic prophet. Each of these positions will be examined and critiqued before a final synthesis will be offered. For the sake of ease, various scholars have been positioned within these three divisions, but it should be emphasised that this typology is limited and there is often a more nuanced overlap between categories in the work of individual scholars (as we will especially discover when we examine the likes of John Dominic Crossan, Gerd Thiessen and Marcus Borg). Indeed, speaking of Jesus as “prophet” is already slightly problematic because Jesus stubbornly refuses to be fit into a single type, be it “prophet” or any of the other types listed above. As James Dunn writes, “Since Jesus seems to have broken through all the available categories to the extent that he did, it becomes almost impossible to find suitable terms to describe his role or define his significance”. Therefore, one must be cautious when studying Jesus as prophet, especially when one considers how the prophetic must be enacted today — a topic this paper will return to in the conclusion.
It is impossible to study the historical Jesus as prophet without noting the lasting impact that Albert Schweitzer and Rudolph Bultmann have had upon contemporary scholarship. Schweitzer is largely responsible for the streams within the quest for the historical Jesus that propel the notion of Jesus as prophet into the foreground, and Bultmann is largely responsible for the streams that reject the notion of Jesus as prophet. Schweitzer, as we shall see, painted a portrait of Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet, participating in an world-ending event… and who was, therefore, misguided and failed to bring about the results he expected. Bultmann found this Jesus to be quite unpalatable, and so he discarded the apocalyptic and prophetic elements of Jesus altogether. In recent years it seems that those who belong to Bultmann's school of thought have carried the day at the popular level, and it is necessary to comment on this school of thought before this paper engages in a sustained study of Jesus as prophet.
Jesus as less than a prophet? Rudolph Bultmann and the Jesus Seminar
'Jesus Christ, Jewish prophet thought to be the Messiah'… Delete 'Christ,' replace 'prophet' with 'teacher'. [From recent revisions made to social science textbooks in California]
Bultmann, as we already suggested, was hardly attracted to the picture of Jesus that was sketched by Schweitzer. Yet Schweitzer had engaged in a sustained historical study of Jesus and his life. Thus, Bultmann expresses a serious scepticism about any contemporary claims to knowledge about the events of Jesus' life or Jesus' actual intentions. He thus discards the category of apocalyptic and any “wishful thinking about the world to come”. However, he is much more certain about the content of Jesus' message, and triumphs the form-critical approach, confident that he can get back to what Jesus said despite the ways in which those sayings were corrupted by the Christian tradition. Thus, Bultmann focuses upon a kerygmatic Christ by means of an existential hermeneutic. The Jesus that emerges from this study is Jesus as “a preacher of a timeless call for decision”. Eschatology is essentially transformed by existenialism. This Jesus teaches timeless moral truths, which challenge people of all ages, and this is the Jesus better known through faith, and not through history.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Bultmann's anti-apocalyptic, anti-prophetic (and rather non-Jewish) position was championed at the popular level by the neo-liberal Jesus Seminar. The Jesus Seminar is a carefully self-selected group of North American scholars, that bring a particular view to the study of Jesus and the early church and then apply that view to a detailed list of sayings. It is largely due to the successful marketing of the work produced by the Jesus Seminar that schools are changing textbooks in order to call Jesus a “teacher” rather than a “prophet”. Because of the focus on sayings much weight is placed upon hypothetical documents like Q and Secret Mark, or much later documents like The Gospel of Thomas,. Thus, most of Jesus' sayings are stripped of their literary settings in order to discredit fundamentalist and traditional portraits of Jesus. Stripped of all apocalyptic elements the result is “a counter-cultural Jesus who serves as an iconic precedent for all anti-establishment restiveness, or a Jesus who was more sophisticatedly subversive than an apocalyptic prophet”. Thus, in the writings of Robert Funk, the founder of the Jesus Seminar, one finds that the Jesus of history has been separated from the Christ of faith so that the real non-eschatological Jesus of the sayings can be freed from both the Christ of the creeds, and the Jesus of the Gospels. In a similar vein, Burton Mack, another prominent member of the Seminar, argues that texts like Mark are early Christian creation myths used to legitimate a particular version of second generation Christianity. Really, Mack argues, Jesus was an “innocent Cynic wordsmith” who would have little to do with contemporary Christianity.
Of course, members of the Jesus Seminar have particular reasons to be attracted to a non-apocalyptic, non-prophetic Jesus. Living as North Americans at the end of the twentieth century they have seen the way in which apocalyptic expectation and prophetic fervour can be manipulated by the State in order to engage in vicious acts of violence and terror around the globe. Apocalyptic expectations are used to fund Israeli terror against the Palestinians, and an appeal to prophesy is made to garner fundamentalist votes for a political party that makes war in the Middle East. In response to these things, the Seminar tries to offer a largely apolitical subversive sage, who ends up looking strikingly like a sophisticated, and somewhat counter-cultural (or at least counter-cultural in the way that most middle-class liberals consider themselves to be counter-cultural), American university professor. We can therefore conclude that, despite their good intentions, the Jesus Seminar has largely thrown out the baby with the bath water when it comes to examining the historical Jesus. These neo-liberals, have made the same mistake that Schweitzer argued the liberals had made — looking for Jesus, they have found their own reflection.
Jesus as Prophet
While the Jesus Seminar was marketing itself as the authoritative and objective scholarly voice on all things related to Jesus, several other North American scholars, and almost all European and international Jesus scholars were drawing very different portraits of Jesus. One of the problems with the Jesus Seminar, as we have noted, is that they often recourse to hypothetical documents in order to create a picture of a Jesus that would have been strikingly out of place in first century Palestine, and Second Temple Judaism. Although other portraits vary greatly it seems that the title most applied to Jesus, that actually meets with considerable scholarly consensus, is the title prophet. This is so because it is the title most reflected in the first century material that we actually have access to (as opposed to hypothetical documents), the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John. Within these documents, the title prophet is attributed to Jesus by the crowds, by his disciples, and, significantly, by Jesus himself. Conversely, his opponents condemned him as a sorcerer and a deceiver leading Israel astray — titles often used for false prophets. Thus, it is fairly safe to conclude with James Dunn that “little doubt need be entertained that Jesus was seen in the role of a prophet during his mission”. It is also likely that Jesus saw himself as a prophet, and self-consciously shaped his message, mission, and actions, in terms of classical prophetic principles. Tom Wright also notes that it would be highly unlikely for the later Christian tradition, including the early church, to invent sayings which called Jesus prophet, for “it might have seemed risky theologically to refer to him in this way; it might have appeared that he was simply being put on a level with all the other prophets”. As a prophet, Jesus is well grounded within a particular moment within the history of Israel, and this is one of the largest attributes that set this Jesus apart from Bultmann's Jesus as the teacher of timeless truth. As a prophet, Jesus' teaching is spoken out of, and addressed to, a particular situation in history. His teaching is marked by both prophetic insight, and prophetic foresight.
The notion of Jesus as prophet if further strengthened by the fact Jesus' early connection to John the Baptiser is one of the most indisputable elements of the early Jesus tradition. There is no question that John was a prophet and, in his baptism by John, Jesus “plunged into the prophetic and eschatological task he took to be his destiny”. However, it is worth exploring what sort of first-century prophets John and Jesus were because, contrary to the popular notion that prophecy had died out during the intertestamental period, there were three main types of prophets in the first century. There were clerical prophets, who were priests fulfilling a prophetic function; there were sapiental prophets, like the Pharisees and the Essenes; and there were popular prophets divided into two types: the oracular prophets and the leadership prophets. The oracular prophets tended to be solitary, and warn of impending doom whereas the leadership prophets promised salvation and attempted to initiate new liberation movements. What makes John the Baptiser such a striking figure is that he managed to unite both of the popular prophetic types; he warned of doom but he also gathered followers. Furthermore, he bears some striking resemblances to sapiental prophets like the Essenes, and he was born of a priestly family, so it could be said that he is the culmination of all the major types of first-century prophecy.
As a follower of John, Jesus continues to combine the oracular type with the leadership type. As a leadership prophet Jesus, with his followers, acted out the great return from exile, showing that Israel was being reconstituted through a new exodus; and as an oracular prophet he was urgent, itinerant, and warned of a near total annihilation that was fast approach Israel. Furthermore, it seems likely that Jesus modelled his ministry on the whole range of Old Testament prophets from Micaiah ben Imlach, to Ezekiel, to Jeremiah, to Jonah, to Amos, and especially to Elijah and Elisha. Where John is the climax of first-century prophecy, Jesus is seen as the climax of the entire prophetic tradition.
This brief survey of Tom Wright's position provides a fairly solid foundation from which to explore the various perspectives that contemporary scholars bring to the study of Jesus as prophet. The distinction between oracular and leadership prophets is quite helpful, because the two main streams of scholarship today that approach Jesus as prophet tend to emphasise each of those elements respectively. Thus, the first group of scholars we will examine — those who view Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet — have emphasised the oracular elements of Jesus' ministry. The second group of scholars — those who view Jesus as a social prophet — have emphasised the leadership elements of Jesus' ministry. Finally, we will discover that the third group of scholars — those who view Jesus as a charismatic prophet — are the least helpful because they have moved the furthest away from the specifics of Jesus' appropriate context.

Love and Miracles

When the crowd saw what Paul had done, they shouted in the Lycaonian language, “The gods have come down to us in human form!”
~ Acts 14.11
There is a young man named Jay who walks up and down the strip on Granville Street. He doesn’t look that great — big beard, long knotted hair, mangled teeth, you know the sort. Jay has some sort of mental condition and he never seems to remember me, but that’s okay. He also has some sort of drug addiction — my guess is heroine but meth and crack are other obvious options — and I guess that’s okay too. Jay’s always cheerful, polite, and friendly when he asks for change. And he always calls everybody “brother” or “sister” — I sorta like that.
“Pardon me, brother, I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you might have a little change?” He tends to lean away from you when he asks, smiling, and folding his hands behind his back.
If you do have change he’s always grateful, and if you don’t he makes sure you don’t feel bad for giving him nothing.
I was walking to work the other night and I saw Jay. I happened to have an extra smoke in my pocket and an extra five bucks in my wallet so I caught up with him and offered him the smoke. Then, before he could ask, I also gave him the five while we were making small talk. He was a little stunned and it always makes me sad to see how amazed people are (or how amazed people feel they have to act) if you give them something more than a couple of quarters. So Jay turns to me and he says this:
“You’re my god, man. You’re my god.”
I was a little taken aback by that, and so I told Jay that, no, I wasn’t any sort of god, but what he had probably picked up on in my little act of kindness was the love of God flowing through me to him. Jay had a hard time with that idea. He told me that he wasn’t a very lovely person. That sometimes he did pretty horrible things. In fact, he even told me that he might do some bad things with the money I have given him, so he would understand if I asked for it back.
I told him to keep the fiver. I told him that God knew all about what he had done, and what he was going to do, and God loved him anyway. I told him that it was bullshit to think that you’re a bad person just because you’ve done some pretty bad things. I told him God understands how sometimes we don’t have much of a choice when it comes down to surviving each new day. Even though we mess things up, I told him God still wants to give us gifts.
Jay listened to me and said that he wanted to give me something in return, but he didn’t have anything to give. So, I told him he could pray for me — and he did. His prayer for me was a greater gift by far than the five bucks and the smoke that I gave him.
As I think about what happened with Jay, about what he said to me when I first approached him, my thoughts lead me back to Acts 14 where Paul heals a cripple and the people who witness this miracle mistake him (and Barnabas) for gods. Me, all I had to do to get a similar reaction was give away a few dollars.
What does it say about the state of our Church when such a small act of love gets treated like a miracle? Granted, our ability as Christians to love others is a gift from God, but such basic acts of charity (and much more besides) should define us in our day to day encounters with people like Jay. I long for the day when I give my change to Jay and he says to me, “You must be a Christian, man”.

Faith seeking Understanding

[This is a devotion I presented for a class today. Our reading was from “A Theology of Liberation” by Gustavo Gutierrez. I am mostly just pulling together a bunch of topics I have already referred to on my blog.]
In the Gospel according to Luke, Jesus inaugurates his public ministry with this quotation from Isaiah:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favourable year of the Lord.
I can't help but think of these words when I read Gutierrez.
When describing theology as critical reflection upon ecclesial praxis, Gutierrez provides a rather biting quotation from George Bernanos who says:
God does not choose the same men to keep his word as to fulfil it.
This is a damning critique of many of us who pursue theology. We seek to understand right doctrine, we seek to ensure that the gospel of Christ is not corrupted, yet we often fail to realise that faith gains understanding through praxis. We can only begin to understand the crucified Christ of our creeds when we journey in intimate relationships with the crucified people of today and bear on our own bodies the brand-marks of Jesus. We can only understand the gospel when we understand how it is good news to the poor. If we are not proclaiming release to the captives and freedom for the oppressed it just shows how little understanding our faith has.
The Spirit of the Lord was upon Jesus to do and say what he did and said. In the same way the Spirit of the Lord is upon us. As Tom Wright says:
The Spirit is given so that we ordinary mortals can become, in a measure, what Jesus himself was: part of God's future arriving in the present; a place where heaven and earth meet; the means of God's kingdom going ahead. The Spirit is given, in fact, so that the church can share in the life and continuing work of Jesus himself.
Continuing the work of Jesus involves a path of downward mobility. It means being empowered by the Spirit of the new age, in order to carry a cross and travel the road of suffering love. It means, as Paul writes in Colossians, that we, in our bodies, and in the body that is the Church, make up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ. Such a calling will inevitably lead us into the experience of godforsakenness. This is an experience that von Balthasar knows well. He writes:
There are legitimate experiences of absence within this ever-present world of God's grace, but they are forms and modes of love. Such were the experiences of the prophets of the Old Covenant, of the Son of God on the cross and in the darkness of his descent into hell; such are the experiences of all those who, in their several vocations, follow the Son. These are the redemptive paths of love as it traces the foot-steps of sinners in order to catch up with them and bring them home.
As theologians, as those possessed by a faith seeking understanding, we cannot simply rely on our intellect, on our texts, or on our professors. We will learn the nature of our faith when we begin to embody that faith in the call issued by Christ and the Church to journey with the scattered sheep, to trace the foot-steps of sinners in order to bring them home. Kant has dared us to think for ourselves and, for better or worse, we have accepted his challenge. Gutierrez has dared us to act and I hope to God that we accept his challenge.
Sheep that are scattered are not simply cute little animals fumbling around in the hills. Sheep that are scattered are sheep that get slaughtered. I know this because I journey with scattered sheep — abandoned children — in the inner-city. I watch them as they are slaughtered and I know that the only reason why this happens to the degree that it does, is because the people of God, including many of its leaders and theologians, have abandoned them. And these sheep have been abandoned because these people have a faith that lacks understanding.
And when faith lacks understanding exile looms on the horizon. As Isaiah, himself an advocate for the poor, concludes:
Therefore, my people go into exile for their lack of knowledge.
The Israelites thought they were being faithful to the Lord. They were fasting and tithing. They were observing the appropriate festivals and the Sabbath. They were worshipping YHWH. But they had neglected the poor and so their faith lacked understanding. And this had devastating consequences.
Let's pray.
Lord, you tell us that, if we ask of you, you will grant us wisdom. And so, Lord, we ask that you would provide our faith with understanding. We do not ask for this understanding apart from the call you issue for us to journey with the crucified people of today. And so, because you continually tell us not to be afraid, we pray that you would give us the courage to take up our crosses, to pursue downward mobility, and to follow in the footsteps of Jesus who, because he existed in the form of God did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped; but emptied himself taking the form of a slave, and being made in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Lord, we pray that you would teach us to be obedient to the point of death. Lord, we pray that you would teach us what it means to love as you loved — and what it means to lay down our lives for those we love. Lord, have mercy and make us both keepers and fulfillers of your Word.
Finally Lord, we conclude this devotion by praying the prayer that the Church has prayed for 2000 years. We pray as you taught us to pray:
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors;
and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from the evil one.
For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

Keepers and Fulfillers

God does not choose the same men to keep his word as to fulfill it.
~ George Bernanos [as quoted by Gustavo Gutierrez in Theology of Liberation]
Of course, Bernanos does not see this as a good thing. His comment is a rather acerbic reflection on the fact that so many contemporary theologians (who are safeguarding the doctrines of the Church) are far removed from the day to day realities and responsibilities of faith. He is criticising those who do theology from an “ivory tower”. To Bernanos and Guiterrez, it is exceedingly odd that one could be a doctor of the Word, and not also be in solidarity with the poor.
For if our theology truly is faith seeking understanding, that means that we should also be seeking the lost sheep, journeying alongside of the abandoned, weeping with those who weep, and carrying a very real, very tangible, very painful, and very shameful cross.
Unfortunately it seems that theologians are for more concerned with gaining credibility, respect, and prestige instead of embracing vulnerability, powerlessness, and shame. Thus, as Bernanos suggests, it is often a very different group of people who end up fulfilling God's word.
Of course, this dichotomy need not exist and both sides suffer where it does exist. What we need are theologians on the margins, theologians in the alleyways. I wonder what sort of transformation would occur if the keepers of the Word would unite with the fulfillers of the Word?

Recommended Reading

Well, I rarely plug other blogs. Not because I don't read several other blogs but because I have a few rules that I made for myself when I started to write online.
That said, I want to recommend a post on my little brother's blog. His name is Abe, he's a pretty smart cookie (he's 24 and he is doing a PhD in nursing, presenting at conferences, writing articles, and working at a health centre for homeless people) and I enjoy reading what he writes. His latest post is a bit of web research entitled “Bruce Wilkinson and Colonialism” (yes, that is the Bruce Wilkinson who wrote The Prayer of Jabez). I highly recommend you take a look at it and follow through on the links he provides.
His blog can be found here: http://www.nurseabe.blogspot.com.
Love you, Abe!

A Prayer for my Abandoned Friends in Hamilton

“Gimme hate, Lord,” he whimpered. “I’ll take hate any day. But don’t give me love. I can’t take no more love, Lord. I can’t carry it… It’s too heavy. Jesus, you know. You know all about it. Ain’t it heavy? Jesus? Ain’t love heavy? Don’t you see, Lord? You own son couldn’t carry it. If it killed Him, what You think it’s gonna do to me? Huh? Huh?”
~ From Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison
And what we mean when we pray for hate, Lord, is not that others would hate us. We’re used to that already. Of course, if you want to make others hate us more that’s okay, too. But what we really mean, Lord, is that we want you to teach us to hate others. This love is just too much. It’s fucking heavy, if you’ll pardon our French, Lord. It’s more than we can bear.
Because this love isolates us. And, Lord, isn’t love supposed to be something that brings us all together? But it doesn’t. It just drives us further and further away from our friends and families. And we can’t handle this kind of love on our own. So, give us hate. If we could learn to be a little more hateful than we’ll be a whole lot more comfortable. We’ll have a lot more friends too, Lord, and we’re tired of being alone.
And don’t you promise us new life, Lord? If you do then why is it that this love is killing us? What happened to the easy yoke, Lord? This one is more than we can bear.

The Heart of Darkness

In this month's issue of Harper's there is an heart-rending article about Congo's ongoing genocide (“Congo's Daily Blood: Ruminations from a failed state” by Bryan Mealer). In the last five years, over 4,000,000 people have died there, and approximately 1,200 continue to die there every day.
What is described is far beyond what I can comprehend. I can read the stories, I can follow the words, but I've realised that even my experiences with violence and sorrow at the margins of North America have not put me in a place where I'm even close to imagining what it is to be in the midst of such experiences. The brutality defies comprehension. The stories are too horrible — “all blood, rape, and gore” — and I can't even bring myself to repeat them here. I don't understand how people can do the things they do to each other.
Likewise, I absolutely cannot understand how we stand by and do nothing about such events. Because such horrors do not stop with Congo — Sudan and Somalia come instantly to mind. Our apathy staggers me. And we are not just apathetic. We've have found a way to make money off of genocide. Thus, we live comfortably in Canada (in part) because of what we have done with oil in Sudan, what we have done with telecommunications in Somalia, and what we have done with mining in Congo. Their blood is on our hands. It's in our clothes, it stains our daily bread.
So where, oh where, is the Church in all of this? Where is the mass of Western Christians committed to journeying with those in Congo, Sudan, Somalia? The fact is that it seems like an utter fantasy to suggest that there would be a large number of Christians committed to going to a place like Congo. We can't even get Christians to move into shitty downtown neighbourhoods, what hope is there that they might consider moving into “the horror, the horror” that exists in Congo? Christians think I'm crazy when I tell them they should live in a neighbourhood where *gasp* they might be robbed. How in the world will they be convinced to go and live in a place where they might be tortured and eaten?
Instead, we putter away at our little lives, we try to make a little bit of a difference where we are. Yet most of these puny acts of piety and service are done to ease our own consciences. And all the while the blood, the rape, and the gore, continue unabated.

March Books

Well, not as many books this month, but that’s to be expected since the term is winding down.
1. Contagious Holiness: Jesus’ meals with sinners by Craig Blomberg. After completing my major paper on the Lord’s Supper last term, I sent a copy to Scot McKnight and he was kind enough to dialogue with me about the paper (William Cavanaugh also read my paper and gave me some helpful feedback). Scot pointed to Blomberg’s book and so I finally got around to finishing it. This book is an excellent study that examines table fellowship in the Old Testament, in the intertestamental period, and in the Greco-Roman world of the first century. Blomberg argues that Jesus is well-rooted in the Jewish practice of table fellowship, but what is radically new with Jesus is that he eats with the impure, the unclean, and the sinners because he believes that it is holiness, not sinfulness, that is contagious. Blomberg then concludes with a reflection on the importance of Christians recovering the practice of this type of contagious holiness through table fellowship. This is an excellent book.
2. Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense by N.T. Wright. This is the new Mere Christianity, a top-notch reflection on Christian living today. I hope the folks back in Ontario that read this blog go out and buy this book. Wright breaks the book into three parts. The first part is a description of the contemporary situation defined by the cry for justice, the hunger for spirituality, the longing for relationships, and the quest for beauty. We desire these four things and yet they continually elude us, like echoes of a voice that spoke while we were sleeping. The second part is a description of the Christian story from God to Israel, to Jesus, to Pentecost, and the Church. The third part brings the first two parts together and focuses on worship, prayer, the bible, the Church, and the new creation.
3. The Story of Christian Theology: Twenty Centuries of Tradition and Reform by Roger E. Olson. This book covers a lot of ground very quickly, as twenty centuries of Christianity are packed into 600 pages. However, it was a useful refresher, and a good one volume work on the history of the Church, the various movements in theology and the great thinkers from our past. The author’s biases do come through here and there (an Anabaptist bias, and one that is highly critical of any Greek influences on Christianity) but I suppose that that sort of thing is inescapable when it comes to writing history. Besides my own biases are fairly similar to Olson’s, so no harm done.
4. Kicking the Post out of Ultra-Modernity by Thomas C. Oden. This doesn’t really count as a book per se. It is a short encyclical that was originally given as a plenary address to the Evangelical Theological Society. As the title suggests, Oden is arguing that postmodernity is just a thinly disguised hypermodernity (a notion that is well inline with Lyotard’s definition of postmodernity), and thus contemporary Christians are faced with a deepening of the challenges modernity posed against Christianity. In response to these challenges Oden argues for a return to Scripture that recovers something of the broader tradition of exegesis. He also argues for a return to a “Christian world” in the sense that the world be understood at God’s world. Furthermore, in the section that I enjoyed the most, he argues that a willingness to suffer for truth is intrinsic to a Christian understanding of truth. Finally, he concludes by affirming the hope that God will continue to ensure the existence of his Church.
5. Growing in the Prophetic by Mike Bickle. Finally I find a half decent book written by a member of the recent charismatic movement. Bickle desires to bring together a serious study of Scripture and a commitment to the contemporary prophetic movement. He writes with humility, and is not afraid to illustrate his points with mistakes made by his congregation as they have journeyed through this. I don’t always agree with Bickle, but at least I didn’t get to the end of this book and want to throw it out.
6. The Question Concerning Technology by Martin Heidegger. In this work, Heidegger’s thesis is that the essence of technology is best described as a non-technological enframing that challenges humanity to reveal the actual as standing-reserve. Technology is essentially a way of revealing. It brings-forth (i.e. presences) nature as if everything is merely a supply of energy that can be unlocked, exposed, and stored. Heidegger’s definition counters the prevalent instrumental-anthropological definition of technology. His definition reveals the danger inherent to technology, for technology (as an enframing that challenges forth) blocks poesis, which is also a revealing that brings forth. Yet the discovery of the essence of technology also points the way to salvation. Thus, the question concerning technology is a question concerning the constellation in which revealing and concealing, and the essential unfolding of truth propriates. Consequently, Heidegger urges the reader to focus upon poesis as the techne which most fully reveals truth, in order to break free from the hold that technology’s enframing has upon actuality. This is a great essay, and one that has left a permanent mark on all discussions about the relationship between technology and culture.
7. Down to This: squalor and splendour in a big-city shantytown by Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall. This book was a birthday gift from a friend, and it was an excellent gift. The author writes about his experience living for ten months in what was the largest hobo town in North America — Toronto’s very own Tent City. It was interesting to read this book since I know most of the neighbourhoods, places, and agencies that the author describes. He does an excellent job of providing an honest glimpse of what homelessness does to people. This is a fine example of truth-telling that does not romanticise, or villianise, the people described. Recommended reading.
8. Slaughterhouse-Five or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death by Kurt Vonnegut. My old tree-planting foreman has been telling me to read Vonnegut for years. I finally got around to reading this classic story about the bombing of Dresden at the end of WWII (Vonnegut was actually in Dresden as a P.O.W. when the bombing occurred — a bombing that killed more civilians than those killed at Hiroshima or Nagasaki). It’s hard to describe the feelings one gets from this book — sorrow, and laughter, and anger, and resignation. I guess the book does a pretty good job of reflecting what it’s like to live as broken people in a broken world. And so it goes.

Rights

In its most extreme and universal form, our constitutional rights are reducible to the right not to have to love our neighbour.
~ Curtis White, “The Spirit of Disobedience”
And this is why it is high time that the Western Church moved beyond talking about “human rights” and began talking about forgiveness followed by repentance, and reconciliation paired with cruciformity.