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Pentecost 2013

Coptic icon of Pentecost

Coptic icon of Pentecost

Pentecost Sunday! 

Some thoughts:

- I am hesitant to speak of Pentecost as “the birth of the church,” since this seems foreign to the Lukan message. If by “church” we mean followers of Jesus, then there have been followers before Pentecost. If by “church” we mean one group including Jews and non-Jews, then we are finding something in the narrative that doesn’t occur until several chapters later. It seems more appropriate to see Pentecost as the full inauguration of the New Covenant as depicted by the availability of the Spirit to all people, not a select few.

- It should be observed that this is not the first time people are filled with the Spirit. In Luke 1:15 John the Baptist is filled with the Spirit in his mother’s womb. In 1:41 Elizabeth is filled with the Spirit. In 1:67 Zacharias is filled with the Spirit. Old Covenant figures such Bezalel (Exodus 31:3; 35:31), Joshua (Deuteronomy 34:9), and Micah (3:8) receive the Spirit before Pentecost. This doesn’t detract from Pentecost, because Pentecost is the “democratization” of the Spirit (if you will). Moses imagined a day when all the people of God might be prophets (Numbers 11:29). In some sense (not to ignore that the New Covenant seems to include a new role of prophet distinct from that of the Old Covenant) Pentecost does make all the people of God a prophetic people. Similarly, as the prophet Joel foresaw, the Spirit would be poured out upon all sorts of people, many marginalized by society, including daughters and slaves (2:28-29). The apostle Peter interpreted the Day of Pentecost to be the fulfillment of Joel’s vision (Acts 2:16-21, though the exact nature of Peter’s interpretation is not as clear as we might like in that he includes much of the apocalyptic imagery).

- If we read Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4; 2:33; 13:23, 32 we find that Pentecost is a fulfillment of the Old Covenant: the Spirit has been “poured out” upon people; the Messiah have been revealed (through the resurrection). Pentecost is connected to the resurrection of Jesus as the two stage beginning of the “already, but not yet,” the eschaton before the eschaton.

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From Death to Life: Easter 2013

It is truly meet and just, right and for our salvation, at all times to praise Thee, O Lord, but more gloriously especially this day when Christ our Pasch was sacrificed. For He is the true Lamb Who took away the sins of the world: Who by dying destroyed our death, and by rising again hath restored us to life.

(“Preface for Easter,” The Roman Catholic Daily Missal: 1962 [Kansas City, MO: Angelus Press, 2004], 873)


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Holy Saturday: theodicy

It has been about ten years since I delved deeply into the topic of theodicy. I read many apologetical works on the matter. Some were helpful; some seemed to have been written by authors who wanted the reader to be all brain, no heart. In other words, if you can intellectualize it then it won’t bother you. I admit, it is not the “idea” of theodicy that bothers me the most; it is the experience of it. It is not hearing about human suffering; it is seeing human suffering in real time. All my reading in my early twenties did not protect me from the terrible feeling in my gut that occurs when I read the news: our world is a mess.

This is why I appreciate the wisdom of the Book of Job. Deity doesn’t give an answer. Job is not told why he suffered (though the narrator tells us why Job suffered, and a cosmic gamble between the Most High God and an angelic being whose role is to go about the earth as a prosecuting attorney is not comforting). Job is told that Deity is Deity, humanity is humanity, and he needs to embrace that. Many find this answer unsatisfying. If Job has received any other answer I would have been skeptical because it wouldn’t have fit the experience we share as humans.

Holy Saturday isn’t discussed much in Scripture. The Gospel accounts do not dwell on it. Yet it is one of the most important parts of the Christian Gospel: Jesus was buried, dead. Jesus who embodied Life itself had been defeated by Death. If Jesus is defeated by Death then who among us can overcome it?

Although the “Road to Emmaus” narrative of Luke 24:13-35 is presented as happening after Jesus had been resurrected I think it captures Holy Saturday quite well: we were hoping it was he who was going to redeem Israel (v. 21). This line has more potency than many might see in it. I read it as encapsulating the question asked by humans who suffer. If there is a god why is the world this way? Why doesn’t this god intervene? Why does this god allow suffering, sickness, war, and most of all, Death itself? I had hoped that there was going to be a time of redemption. I imagined as a child a “happily ever after,” but then I became an adult. We suffer, then we die.

Holy Saturday is a day when we rethink our commitments. The Son of God, the Messiah, he is dead. Nietzsche’s statement that “God is dead” is far from as shocking as Holy Saturday. If “God is dead” then today is the day. If Jesus is dead then what hope do we have of redemption. If the door between heaven and earth has been shut then we are alone. In the Book of Job the Most High speaks. On Holy Saturday we don’t know if he will speak again, ever, and if Deity speaks what will be said?

We wait.

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Good Friday: Jesus and Pilate

ecce-homo-pontius-pilate-movie-banner

Antonio Ciseri’s 1871 Ecce Homo

The narrative of John 18:33-38 is fascinating to me. It is a short dialogue between Pontius Pilate, the Roman Prefect of Judea, and Jesus of Nazareth, a candidate for the role of Jewish Messiah. The Jewish rulers want Jesus crucified, but according to the narrator the decision to procede with capital punishment is Rome’s alone. Pilate had told the Jewish ruler to judge Jesus according to their Law, but the narrator seems to suggest that this would limit their options. Pilate is presented as somewhat bothered that he must focus upon this insignificant man at such a tense time as Passover. Since Pilate represents Rome he must procede with making a decision about Jesus.

Jesus is brought before Pilate. The reader comes to this scene with knowledge given by the narrator earlier (14:6): Jesus is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” The reader knows this. Jesus knows this. Pilate does not know this.

Pilate enters the room and his encounter with Jesus begins:

Pilate: YOU are the King of the Judeans?

Jesus: Are you saying this from yourself or did others tell you about me?

Pilate: I am not a Judean, am I? Your people and chief priest handed you over to me. What have you done?

Jesus: My Kingdom is not from this world. If my Kingdom was from this world my servants would be fighting in order that I not be handed over to the Judeans. But now, my Kingdom is not from here.

Pilate: So then, you are a King?

Jesus: YOU say that I am a King. For this I have been born, and for this I have come unto the world: in order that I testify to the Truth. Everyone who is from the Truth hears my voice.

Pilate: What is Truth?

Jesus and Pilate are engaged in an intense discussion here. Neither commits much by way of answering. Both begin by asking questions of the other. Pilate seems a bit surprised that this man is being called a King by some: “YOU are the King of the Judeans?” Seriously, you?

Immediately, Jesus aims to make Pilate uncomfortable: is this something you think yourself based on your own evidence and observations or did you listen to the Jewish rulers then take their word for it?

Pilate is aware of Jesus’ rhetorical strategy, so he matches Jesus’ question-for-a-question with his own: I’m not Judean, right? Your people disliked you enough to bring you to me, so what did you do?

Jesus doesn’t answer with another question here, but he is indirect: My Kingdom doesn’t emerge from this world–see, my servants don’t fight to establish my Kingdom. You know a bit about establishing a Kingdom through warfare, right?

Pilate wants to end this conversation. Are you a King or not? Jesus doesn’t say: “YOU say that I am a King.” The dialogue began with Pilate’s emphatic response to Jesus: “YOU are the King of the Judeans?” Jesus ends it the same way: “YOU say that I am a King.” Then Jesus tells what he was born to do: testify to Truth. Pilate becomes Socratic: “What is Truth?”

These questions are aimed for the reader though the dialogue is between the two characters. Pilate will disappear from the narrative soon, but if the reader continues to read then the question remains: What is Truth? Good Friday asks us this question: What is Truth?

Who is Truth?

In 19:5 Pilate will tell the crowd: “Behold, the man!” The narrator asks you to do the same: Behold, this man, who embodies the Truth. What will you do with him?

__________

For a helpful commentary on the use of questions in this narrative see Douglas Estes, The Questions of Jesus in John: Logic, Rhetoric, and Persuasive Discourse, 118-123


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Maundy Thursday: beloved and secure

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The Beloved Disciple has been depicted in imagery of Jesus’ Last Supper as leaning against Jesus’ chest. This presentation of intimacy and security is derived from John 13:21-28. In this scene Jesus tells his disciples that he will be betrayed (v. 21). There is panic in the room as each disciple begins to suspect the other (v. 22). Then, as if a spotlight shines on one character while the rest of the stage goes dark, we are introduced to the Beloved Disciple’s state-of-being-in-crisis: leaning, reclining, secure (v. 23).

My pastor-friend Jeff Garner was the first to help me see the beauty of this scene. This unnamed disciple is known throughout the Fourth Gospel by titles that relate to Jesus’ love for him. Not his name. Not his family or tribe. Not the disciple’s love for Jesus. Not the disciple’s fidelity to Jesus. No. Jesus’ love for him.

To be beloved is to accept the love that is there already. That is it.

The disciples in the room that panic do not recline. These disciples do not relax. These disciples are as loved as the beloved, but the difference is that these disciples are not presented as secure in that love. Each begins to turn against the other. Isn’t this our posture toward one another when we fail to find our identity in Christ’s love for us? When we fear our place at the table?

Peter the great disciple, the apostle, the rock has the good sense to motion toward the Beloved: “Tell who it is of whom he is speaking.” Peter knows the Beloved’s relationship to Jesus allows him access to the answer that the rest of the disciples seek (v. 24). The Beloved turns to Jesus, asks Jesus who it is, and receives an answer: “…the one for whom I shall dip the morsel and give it to him.”

Amazingly, if we let the narrative guide us, at this point it could be the Beloved. The Beloved could betray Jesus. Jesus doesn’t say “you,” “Peter,” or even “Judas.” For a brief moment if we stop reading, let the scene pause, and wait, we realize it could be anyone in the room. It will be Judas, but it could have been the Beloved (v. 26).

As the narrative unfolds Judas is identified, but according to the Evangelist it is the Beloved who knows what is happening. Jesus knows. The Beloved knows. Everyone else remains insecure.

This Maundy Thursday as we remember Jesus’ commandments to love one another, and as we share the meal that symbolized his act on our behalf, let us remember that our love toward one another comes from recognizing our being loved (passive) by Jesus. The Beloved’s identity is grounded in Christ’s love for him. I pray that we may all experience this reality: beloved and secure.