It's hard to blame the disciples for standing around looking up at the sky. They're being given their third completely different paradigm to guide them as followers of Jesus -- their second major worldview shift in under two months. I'd be standing around staring a little bit myself.
The first paradigm they knew -- they weren't the first group of people to follow a charismatic teacher to learn from him and listen to him speak. While this teacher, Jesus, was clearly different from many others in terms of what and how he taught, the general idea was the same. If we read histories of that place and time we learn that such leaders were common. The great teacher Gamaliel himself will point this out when he counsels the Sanhedrin in Acts 5.
But then came his arrest, crucifixion and resurrection and a whole new way of following their teacher, because that teacher was now known to them as savior and Lord. This, quite clearly, had not happened before and they did not exactly know how they should do it. Fortunately, Jesus' plan for his time following his resurrection seems primarily to be teaching them about what they are to do as his disciples. It's generally held that he remained with them about 40 days post-resurrection -- we don't know the exact figure because we don't know if the 40 days mentioned in the gospels starts on Easter Sunday or sometime later. But we know the main activity was him teaching and them learning.
And here we see the second major "paradigm shift" and the third completely different worldview the disciples needed to accept as a part of following Jesus of Nazareth -- how to follow him without him actually being around!
Although we don't have any actual accounts of what Jesus taught the disciples during his post-resurrection time with them, I imagine that whenever he touched on this part of the plan he got a lot of blank looks. Can you imagine Thomas being told about the Holy Spirit without asking a metric ton of questions? And can you imagine him being satisfied with being told, "Well, you'll know it when it happens" when he asked? This is not doubt as a lack of faith, it's a lack of understanding.
When we're living under one paradigm or worldview, it's really hard to understand the things that go on inside a different worldview. One of my favorite kinds of videos to watch on YouTube are called "reaction videos." People record themselves watching some show or another and we can see their reactions to major plot developments. Some of the best are kids watching The Empire Strikes Back Star Wars movie with their parents when they learn something very surprising about the relationship between Darth Vader, the main villain, and Luke Skywalker, the main hero. Empire is the second Star Wars movie, so the kids know who Luke is and who Darth Vader is, and you can see as they watch they know how things are between the good guy and the bad guy. Then comes the reveal, and the huge eyes, and the questions of their parents. The parents already know the new, paradigm-shifting information and as the kids learn it their whole understanding of the movie changes
For the disciples, the new paradigm doesn't mean they don't follow Jesus anymore. Now they follow him whether he is there with them or not and they have an omnipresent guide, comforter and encourager, the Holy Spirit. This new paradigm is the one which will spread the gospel to parts of the world the earliest church didn't even know existed, so even as uncomfortable and uncertain as it might prove to be it's the one they needed to get to.
We're about to enter our third paradigm of worship. There's the way we've worshiped for years, which ended on March 15. After that date we were asked not to meet in person but to try to "meet" with our community via streaming and watching the service. We were together in spirit but separate in body -- which is OK for awhile, but a faith that says God called his creation -- us -- "good" can't accept forever a path that feeds the spirit while neglecting the body.
In a couple of weeks we will return to in-person worship, but it will look different. Especially at first, as our new paradigm has to include steps to reduce as much as we can the risk of people getting sick. We've not usually had to consider that factor when we plan worship or set up for being together, but now we do. As we move forward and see how the disease progresses, we will decide how much closer we can get to our older way of worshiping.
But it would be a mistake to look at this third paradigm of worship as just a time to wait for things to get back to the way we want them. That would be like the disciples -- then or today -- treating the time in between the Ascension and the Second Coming as just a period of waiting around for Jesus to come back and not an opportunity to share their great good news with people who needed to hear it. And if they'd done that, where would we be today?
Sunday, May 24, 2020
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Unknown No Longer (Acts 17:22-31)
One of the things we sometimes misunderstand about the Greek people at the time when Paul meets them here is that not very many of them believe in that famous Olympian pantheon we learned about in school. The work of major philosophers like Plato, Aristotle and Socrates had influenced Greek theology as well as philosophy in more monotheistic -- or even atheistic -- directions. Especially among educated men like those talking with Paul, the whole list of deities was considered something that was for rubes. Even if it wasn't, those gods spent most of their time putting on disguises and chasing human women; they weren't exactly fit objects of worship.
That was the major reason behind the "unknown god" altar that Paul found. Although some people might have seen it as the catchall altar put up in order to make sure some god or another wasn't missed, for the big thinkers of the city it was the altar to what some called the "uncaused cause" or "prime mover." They believed in a divine force that had created the universe and set it into motion, but that force was completely unknowable and many philosophers also believed it was completely impersonal and uninterested in human affairs.
As you might imagine, that kind of god isn't a very useful tool in trying to figure out the questions people like to ask about life -- like what makes a good person, what gives life meaning, why are we here and so on. It's been a long time since I've read the history of first-century Greek philosophy so I don't know how exactly they were trying to grapple with this issue, but I imagine that there would have been several who would have liked a god that was a bit more interactive and open to conversation.
Does Paul know that? We can't be certain, but we do know his habit seems to be observing things a bit before he begins his work and if he has done that here in Athens he certainly knows what kinds of things the philosophers were talking about. Either way, he opens up with an idea that strikes at the root of the kinds of questions that would seem to worry people with an unknown and unknowable god.
First he tells them they're on the right track with such an idea, even if they haven't finished it out yet as it should be. If a god made the world, the idea that stone, metal or wood could in any way represent it can be ruled out. So can the idea that such a god would require the service of human efforts. Discarding the idols of the past is the right thing to do.
But if they go beyond those basic steps they will find their deeper questions answered as well. They won't just have to discard the inadequate gods -- they can find the real God. Just as they anticipated, the God who made the universe is completely other than creation, holy and almost unknowable. But unlike they believe, that God is not impersonal and has chosen to make himself known to us in his creation. Knowing we could not bridge the gap between human and divine, he chose to, in the person of his Son, a man named Jesus of Nazareth who was both fully human and fully divine.
Did Paul succeed? Well, some of the Athenians sniffed at him as a "proclaimer of foreign divinities," but some others wanted to talk with him some more later.
I think one of the messages that we can take from this when we go out into our world, right now filled with uncertainty, anxiety and a major league mess of monumental proportions, is that Jesus answers the questions people have. Yes, we joke about how the "Sunday school" answer is always "Jesus" no matter what the question is, but he's the answer to real questions of existence as well.
You and I, Christian, must learn how to answer those questions. Which means we have to listen to them and to the people asking them. I don't know that we do. I don't know that a lot of us, in Paul's place, wouldn't have mocked the multiple idols and the empty altar -- I'd like to hope I wouldn't but unless I was letting the Holy Spirit lead me I wouldn't bet on me.
And if we don't take their questions seriously, why should they take our answer seriously? I don't know what changes will happen in our nation and society as a result of all of this weirdness, but I know that people are going to come out of it with a lot of questions. Let's listen to them, let's listen to the Spirit tell us how to reach them and then let's share with them the answer we've already been given.
That was the major reason behind the "unknown god" altar that Paul found. Although some people might have seen it as the catchall altar put up in order to make sure some god or another wasn't missed, for the big thinkers of the city it was the altar to what some called the "uncaused cause" or "prime mover." They believed in a divine force that had created the universe and set it into motion, but that force was completely unknowable and many philosophers also believed it was completely impersonal and uninterested in human affairs.
As you might imagine, that kind of god isn't a very useful tool in trying to figure out the questions people like to ask about life -- like what makes a good person, what gives life meaning, why are we here and so on. It's been a long time since I've read the history of first-century Greek philosophy so I don't know how exactly they were trying to grapple with this issue, but I imagine that there would have been several who would have liked a god that was a bit more interactive and open to conversation.
Does Paul know that? We can't be certain, but we do know his habit seems to be observing things a bit before he begins his work and if he has done that here in Athens he certainly knows what kinds of things the philosophers were talking about. Either way, he opens up with an idea that strikes at the root of the kinds of questions that would seem to worry people with an unknown and unknowable god.
First he tells them they're on the right track with such an idea, even if they haven't finished it out yet as it should be. If a god made the world, the idea that stone, metal or wood could in any way represent it can be ruled out. So can the idea that such a god would require the service of human efforts. Discarding the idols of the past is the right thing to do.
But if they go beyond those basic steps they will find their deeper questions answered as well. They won't just have to discard the inadequate gods -- they can find the real God. Just as they anticipated, the God who made the universe is completely other than creation, holy and almost unknowable. But unlike they believe, that God is not impersonal and has chosen to make himself known to us in his creation. Knowing we could not bridge the gap between human and divine, he chose to, in the person of his Son, a man named Jesus of Nazareth who was both fully human and fully divine.
Did Paul succeed? Well, some of the Athenians sniffed at him as a "proclaimer of foreign divinities," but some others wanted to talk with him some more later.
I think one of the messages that we can take from this when we go out into our world, right now filled with uncertainty, anxiety and a major league mess of monumental proportions, is that Jesus answers the questions people have. Yes, we joke about how the "Sunday school" answer is always "Jesus" no matter what the question is, but he's the answer to real questions of existence as well.
You and I, Christian, must learn how to answer those questions. Which means we have to listen to them and to the people asking them. I don't know that we do. I don't know that a lot of us, in Paul's place, wouldn't have mocked the multiple idols and the empty altar -- I'd like to hope I wouldn't but unless I was letting the Holy Spirit lead me I wouldn't bet on me.
And if we don't take their questions seriously, why should they take our answer seriously? I don't know what changes will happen in our nation and society as a result of all of this weirdness, but I know that people are going to come out of it with a lot of questions. Let's listen to them, let's listen to the Spirit tell us how to reach them and then let's share with them the answer we've already been given.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Cornerstone (1 Peter 2:2-10)
Usually when you and I think of a house today we think of a wood or wood frame building, but people in Jesus' part of the world who lived at the same time he did would have been much more likely to think of buildings made from stone. Woods -- especally the kinds of hard woods used to support buildings -- were scarce. Stone was plentiful.
The most basic kinds of homes were actually caves. Limestone caves are common in the region, and the limestone itself was soft enough it could be carved with the tools available at the time. Rooms could be enlarged and new rooms hewn into the caves relatively easily.
Some structures used what's sometimes called "rubble masonry." Stones would be piled together without necessarily being matched for size or shape. A more planned version might start with large stones placed together and then the gaps filled with smaller ones before some kind of mortar was added, but in a hurry rubble masonry walls might be made without mortar. If the city wall had been breached by invaders but they had been driven back, the gap might be filled with rubble before they could attack again.
As the Israelites knew from their own ancestral history, buildings could be made with bricks sized and cut for the work. The bricks could also be quarried and brought to the site.
A related but more elaborate kind of stone construction is sometimes called "ashlar masonry." Although ashlar may sound like an ancient Hebrew word, it's actually Middle English. Ashlar walls or buildings are made of stone cut and worked to match the size of the others. The rough ashlars are taken from a quarry and then "dressed" to have a regular surface and similar sizes. Ashlar walls and buildings could be joined with mortar but were also sometimes made without. A lot of ancient Inca architecture in South America is so-called "dry ashlar."
The dressing of the cornerstone in an ashlar structure was incredibly important. If the angle was just a small bit off, then the long walls that rested on it would not be at the right angles for the others. Construction would be much harder, if it was possible at all. A whole project might have to be knocked down and started over. So the cornerstone had to be as close to perfect as the stonemasons could make it, and unsuitable ones were rejected. They might later be used as ordinary stones in the wall, but they couldn't be cornerstones.
Peter, quoting Psalm 118, identifies Jesus with a rejected cornerstone. The religious leadership opposed him and judged that nothing worthwhile could be built from his words and actions. He didn't fit their design specifications. But, Peter says, though earthly authorities rejected him God selected him. In fact, God had long ago selected him and knew what he would build with his Son as the cornerstone: What we today call the church.
The work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of believers shapes them for their place in this great construction project. We come to Jesus rough-hewn at best and in our own minds completely unsuitable for any kind of work in his name. Surely he could build nothing worthwhile with me, we say. Ah, but I can, he replies. Allow me to shape you and use the circumstances of your life and world to form something more wonderful than you could have possibly imagined.
Or we might come feeling ourselves already prepared for a role in his project -- in fact, we know exactly what role we would like and we helpfully inform the Lord just how he should use us. More often than not, though, we find we do not fit the role we sought. Will we haughtily turn our backs, saying we will come to Jesus on our own terms or not at all, or will we humble ourselves and allow the Spirit to shape us according to his plans instead of our own?
Because the metaphor of the cornerstone has another layer. Jesus is the cornerstone of the church, which is built upon him and when it is what it is supposed to be it is completely shaped and directed by the way that cornerstone is laid. But he also desires to be the cornerstone of our lives, giving shape and purpose to who and what we do. Not only does he shape us for our place in the church he shapes our everyday characteristics with an eye towards what he will build us as.
A lifetime of following Jesus means a lifetime of being fitted out by him as he patiently smooths and shapes what is in us so that we match that image of God in which we were created. It means a lifetime of being fitted for our role in his greatest work, the salvation of humanity. Our role is to humble ourselves and allow him to work.
The most basic kinds of homes were actually caves. Limestone caves are common in the region, and the limestone itself was soft enough it could be carved with the tools available at the time. Rooms could be enlarged and new rooms hewn into the caves relatively easily.
Some structures used what's sometimes called "rubble masonry." Stones would be piled together without necessarily being matched for size or shape. A more planned version might start with large stones placed together and then the gaps filled with smaller ones before some kind of mortar was added, but in a hurry rubble masonry walls might be made without mortar. If the city wall had been breached by invaders but they had been driven back, the gap might be filled with rubble before they could attack again.
As the Israelites knew from their own ancestral history, buildings could be made with bricks sized and cut for the work. The bricks could also be quarried and brought to the site.
A related but more elaborate kind of stone construction is sometimes called "ashlar masonry." Although ashlar may sound like an ancient Hebrew word, it's actually Middle English. Ashlar walls or buildings are made of stone cut and worked to match the size of the others. The rough ashlars are taken from a quarry and then "dressed" to have a regular surface and similar sizes. Ashlar walls and buildings could be joined with mortar but were also sometimes made without. A lot of ancient Inca architecture in South America is so-called "dry ashlar."
The dressing of the cornerstone in an ashlar structure was incredibly important. If the angle was just a small bit off, then the long walls that rested on it would not be at the right angles for the others. Construction would be much harder, if it was possible at all. A whole project might have to be knocked down and started over. So the cornerstone had to be as close to perfect as the stonemasons could make it, and unsuitable ones were rejected. They might later be used as ordinary stones in the wall, but they couldn't be cornerstones.
Peter, quoting Psalm 118, identifies Jesus with a rejected cornerstone. The religious leadership opposed him and judged that nothing worthwhile could be built from his words and actions. He didn't fit their design specifications. But, Peter says, though earthly authorities rejected him God selected him. In fact, God had long ago selected him and knew what he would build with his Son as the cornerstone: What we today call the church.
The work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of believers shapes them for their place in this great construction project. We come to Jesus rough-hewn at best and in our own minds completely unsuitable for any kind of work in his name. Surely he could build nothing worthwhile with me, we say. Ah, but I can, he replies. Allow me to shape you and use the circumstances of your life and world to form something more wonderful than you could have possibly imagined.
Or we might come feeling ourselves already prepared for a role in his project -- in fact, we know exactly what role we would like and we helpfully inform the Lord just how he should use us. More often than not, though, we find we do not fit the role we sought. Will we haughtily turn our backs, saying we will come to Jesus on our own terms or not at all, or will we humble ourselves and allow the Spirit to shape us according to his plans instead of our own?
Because the metaphor of the cornerstone has another layer. Jesus is the cornerstone of the church, which is built upon him and when it is what it is supposed to be it is completely shaped and directed by the way that cornerstone is laid. But he also desires to be the cornerstone of our lives, giving shape and purpose to who and what we do. Not only does he shape us for our place in the church he shapes our everyday characteristics with an eye towards what he will build us as.
A lifetime of following Jesus means a lifetime of being fitted out by him as he patiently smooths and shapes what is in us so that we match that image of God in which we were created. It means a lifetime of being fitted for our role in his greatest work, the salvation of humanity. Our role is to humble ourselves and allow him to work.
Sunday, May 03, 2020
Learning His Voice
This illustration of Jesus as shepherd and also as a gate for the sheepfold is about the only time John emphasizes a parable from Jesus' teaching; he mostly focuses on how Jesus identifies himself as the Messiah and on his work for God.
Like the parables related in the other three gospels, this one turns on an idea that would have been pretty familiar to most of people listening. We tend to think of shepherds as having large flocks of dozens or even hundreds of animals, but most shepherds at the time would not have had so many. They would take their small flock out during the day to graze and drink, then bring it inside an enclosure for the night to protect it from predators and keep strays from wandering off. Often several would join to build the enclosure and use their greater numbers to offer greater protection. In the morning, each shepherd would call his own sheep to lead them out for the day's business and although they were not trained to respond to commands the way a dog is they usually did recognize the voice of their own particular shepherd. The ones who got confused could be sorted out by the shepherds.
Jesus' suggestion is that his own followers will continue to follow him because they know his voice like the sheep know the voice of their own particular shepherd.
A lot of interesting ideas grow from this image. One is that the sheep are not born knowing the voice of their shepherd. As lambs, they follow the adult sheep and only learn it as they get older. If we translate the image into our own modern context as a representation of the church, then we see the importance of teaching younger members about the voice of our shepherd, Jesus. The idea that we won't influence them and we'll let them decide for themselves when they're old enough doesn't make much sense if Jesus' image of the shepherd and his sheep relates to the modern church in any way.
This idea doesn't just apply to young church people -- we all have to learn the voice of the shepherd in order to know how to follow him. Remember, the image Jesus uses in John is of sheep called forth from the fold to follow the shepherd, who walks in front of him. But unlike sheep, we have the opportunity to not follow him. We can identify ourselves with some other shepherd-figure we'd like to follow. We might choose to follow a path of satisfying desires and enjoying ourselves. We might choose to follow one of wealth or political power, or something else entirely.
There are plenty of other shepherds who'd call us to be in their flocks. And unlike a sheep that won't answer a stranger's voice, we can and often do so. But experience will teach us that these other paths, no matter what they may promise, don't lead to the fulfilling life we really want. The promises of meaning, purpose, direction and satisfaction are false in the mouths of every shepherd but the good one -- our Savior.
Perhaps we begin following him by tagging along behind other sheep that are already with him. And since we're not talking about sheep but people, we can see this path opened for us by invitation. No sheep ever says to another, "Well, this guy's really good to us. Give it a try." But because our following Jesus is an act of will rather than mindless instinct, we're better led by invitation. I've mentioned to you before that a lot of studies show what draws people into a church and while studies can have a lot of variables in them they agree enough on this that I believe it. It's not music, programming, excitement or superstars behind the pulpit: It's an invitation from someone they know.
Then, once we tag along, we start to learn the voice of the shepherd. It's different from the other voices that call to us. It doesn't promise easy street or the best of everything or the satisfaction of every wish. But the more we hear it and the more we listen to it we begin to believe that what it does promise -- that this shepherd will always be with us and will never abandon us -- is a true promise. It has a weight the other promises claimed to have but couldn't match. This shepherd calls us and the more we tune our ears to what he says more meaningless the noise from the others becomes.
Listen for our shepherd. In the voices of others, in the quiet times of early morning or late night, in the word he gives us, in the testimonies of those who followed him before, in the acts he gave us to remember him and his work, in more ways than we can count he will speak to us. And the more we listen, the more we will hear him, the only one who calls us by name
Like the parables related in the other three gospels, this one turns on an idea that would have been pretty familiar to most of people listening. We tend to think of shepherds as having large flocks of dozens or even hundreds of animals, but most shepherds at the time would not have had so many. They would take their small flock out during the day to graze and drink, then bring it inside an enclosure for the night to protect it from predators and keep strays from wandering off. Often several would join to build the enclosure and use their greater numbers to offer greater protection. In the morning, each shepherd would call his own sheep to lead them out for the day's business and although they were not trained to respond to commands the way a dog is they usually did recognize the voice of their own particular shepherd. The ones who got confused could be sorted out by the shepherds.
Jesus' suggestion is that his own followers will continue to follow him because they know his voice like the sheep know the voice of their own particular shepherd.
A lot of interesting ideas grow from this image. One is that the sheep are not born knowing the voice of their shepherd. As lambs, they follow the adult sheep and only learn it as they get older. If we translate the image into our own modern context as a representation of the church, then we see the importance of teaching younger members about the voice of our shepherd, Jesus. The idea that we won't influence them and we'll let them decide for themselves when they're old enough doesn't make much sense if Jesus' image of the shepherd and his sheep relates to the modern church in any way.
This idea doesn't just apply to young church people -- we all have to learn the voice of the shepherd in order to know how to follow him. Remember, the image Jesus uses in John is of sheep called forth from the fold to follow the shepherd, who walks in front of him. But unlike sheep, we have the opportunity to not follow him. We can identify ourselves with some other shepherd-figure we'd like to follow. We might choose to follow a path of satisfying desires and enjoying ourselves. We might choose to follow one of wealth or political power, or something else entirely.
There are plenty of other shepherds who'd call us to be in their flocks. And unlike a sheep that won't answer a stranger's voice, we can and often do so. But experience will teach us that these other paths, no matter what they may promise, don't lead to the fulfilling life we really want. The promises of meaning, purpose, direction and satisfaction are false in the mouths of every shepherd but the good one -- our Savior.
Perhaps we begin following him by tagging along behind other sheep that are already with him. And since we're not talking about sheep but people, we can see this path opened for us by invitation. No sheep ever says to another, "Well, this guy's really good to us. Give it a try." But because our following Jesus is an act of will rather than mindless instinct, we're better led by invitation. I've mentioned to you before that a lot of studies show what draws people into a church and while studies can have a lot of variables in them they agree enough on this that I believe it. It's not music, programming, excitement or superstars behind the pulpit: It's an invitation from someone they know.
Then, once we tag along, we start to learn the voice of the shepherd. It's different from the other voices that call to us. It doesn't promise easy street or the best of everything or the satisfaction of every wish. But the more we hear it and the more we listen to it we begin to believe that what it does promise -- that this shepherd will always be with us and will never abandon us -- is a true promise. It has a weight the other promises claimed to have but couldn't match. This shepherd calls us and the more we tune our ears to what he says more meaningless the noise from the others becomes.
Listen for our shepherd. In the voices of others, in the quiet times of early morning or late night, in the word he gives us, in the testimonies of those who followed him before, in the acts he gave us to remember him and his work, in more ways than we can count he will speak to us. And the more we listen, the more we will hear him, the only one who calls us by name
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)