A Week Later

The resurrection stories in John’s gospel quickly move from that first “first day of the week” where Jesus shows up in the midst of the disciples in a locked room to “a week later” where similar things happen on “the first day of the week,” but this time Thomas is present.

John has already told us that Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus first appeared to the group of disciples. No reason is given for his absence – but I can imagine that his brain would have been on overload trying to sort out all the confusing signals of the past few days. Chief among them might have been to think about how he could have been so wrong about Jesus. With no theological concept of Messiah facing death, or even being the Son of God, how had he managed to throw away three-plus years of his life? Perhaps he was a “processor” and simply needed to be alone to process all that he had witnessed.

But during the week, apparently there was contact with the other disciples and they told him, “We have seen the Lord.” (John 20:25) Even less likely than thinking of Messiah as dying, the idea of resurrection of a dead Messiah must have been overwhelmingly unbelievable. Thomas replies, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.” (20:25) Is he being difficult, or just reasonable? Is he being a cynic, or simply careful?

The next “first day of the week” they are together again – Thomas is with them. Again, Jesus just shows up among them. Like was true on the previous first day of the week, Jesus declares, “Peace be with you.” In the best of Jewish thinking, peace spoke to self, others, God, and creation. Perhaps Jesus is doing more than simply saying “calm down, don’t be nervous” and in fact is declaring that since what I did on the cross (“It is finished” – John 19:30) and have now been raised to never die again, peace is now your gift. In the context of Jesus’ way of thinking, perhaps He is saying, ‘You can be at peace with yourself, with others, with God, and with creation.”

The old prophet Simeon, in Luke’s birth narrative, understood that. When he took baby Jesus out of Mary’s arms, he declared, “Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” (Luke 2:29-32) There’s certainly more to “peace” than “calm down, don’t be nervous!”

Jesus is aware of the struggles Thomas has had, and quickly invites him to come, touch, and believe. The text doesn’t say if Thomas actually needed to touch or not – but he quickly makes what is among the more remarkable confession statements in Scripture: “My Lord and My God!” (John 20:28) Raised in a world of rigid monotheism, Thomas confesses that this man he had followed around for so long, this man he knew had died on a “cursed tree” and been buried, was alive – and because of that “Lord and God.” All Jewish sensitivities about those words and their sacred nature have now been redeemed by the living presence of Jesus Himself. 

Data released by the Barna group in March, 2014 suggests that there are still some Thomas-like people around us. According to that report, 49% of Americans say that church engagement is “important” or “somewhat important.” 51% say otherwise. Among the 30 and under portion of our population, only 20% say church engagement is important, with 35% identifying themselves as “anti-church.” Those numbers were even worse when “church” was described as “evangelical.”

Back to Jesus and Thomas, it should interest us that Jesus doesn’t write Thomas off as a bad investment. Neither do we see Jesus offering up a debate on who He is. He doesn’t treat him as though he is being difficult of cynical. Jesus simply says, “come, touch, believe.” I’m not sure how else to read this conversation other than to suggest that Jesus believes His presence is powerful enough to change doubt into belief.

In one sense, I can’t say to an anti-church twenty-something “come, touch, and believe.” But in another sense, I can. Paul doesn’t describe the church as “the body of Christ” as a neat little metaphor that can spiritualize weekly gatherings. He seems to think that the church truly is the body of Christ, called to be ministers of reconciliation in ways that change doubt to belief. (2 Corinthians 5:16ff) So there is a sense in which I can say, “come, experience, and believe.” 

That may be the reason Jesus says earlier in John 20, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” (20:21)

But as long as overwhelming portions of our culture view us so negatively, we have limited opportunities to say “Come, experience, and believe.” We have some work to do!

"The Stones Are Crying Out"

My own sense of being offended by those who insist on confusing political opinion with the gospel of our Lord has made me very reluctant to ever be tempted to do the same. If I hear one more television ad where a sleazy politician is trying to bathe his or her political nonsense in “Christian values,” I think I will be sick.

But for crying out loud! I’m reminded of that story in Luke’s gospel where, during the final week, some of Jesus’ disciples are praising Him, shouting “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” Of course this offended the Pharisees and they demand that Jesus “rebuke your disciples.” Jesus replies in a way that must have astonished his critics, “’I tell you,’ he said, ‘if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.’” (Luke 19:40, NIV)

I don’t want to be guilty of being the kind of follower of Jesus for whom the stones have to speak.

How can we who are followers of Jesus be content with the political hacks of our day using gospel language in such repulsive ways? I’m not remotely taking political sides here, but honesty compels me to say that politicians on the right seems to think they have freedom to use our sacred language to prop up their political ideas more and more.

You may have heard of Sean Hannity. He is a slick radio and television talking head. Sometimes he says things that I think are politically correct – but I find myself thinking that I need to rethink what I think if what I think is so similar to what he thinks. He’s not doing the gospel any favors.

Yet, he uses our language all the time. He forever loves to quote “Let not your hearts be troubled . . .” as though he were the person to be quoting Jesus, while at the same time accusing the current president of thinking that he is “the anointed one.” Think about that. Those words he quotes all the time come from the Upper Room, within hours of when His disciples would face the brutal reality of His crucifixion. I just can’t take it that some “getting richer every day” entertainer would think that because he is on the radio, I don’t need to worry. “The stones are crying out.”

While I have a long list of issues over which the current president and I would have stark disagreement over were we to discuss them, I would never take the idea of Messiah – “the anointed one” – and sully it by using it as a pejorative to describe a political opponent. Maybe the president does think more highly of himself than he ought, but do we need to make “the anointed one” a political name-calling episode instead of a reminder of the redeeming work God accomplished in Jesus of Nazareth? “The stones are crying out.”

Then over the weekend, Sarah Palin pushed me over the line. Did you hear what she said at the NRA meeting in Indianapolis on Saturday? If you didn’t, here it is: “Well, if I were in charge, they would know that waterboarding is how we baptize terrorists.” You and I don’t have to agree on whether or not waterboarding is appropriate as a way of gaining information from terrorists that might protect innocent people from harm to be offended that she would take the sacred word “baptize” and associate it with an action that has been roundly challenged by both liberals and conservatives.  I simply can’t imagine what it the world would possess any politician to think that is appropriate. “The stones are crying out.”

If you live in Georgia, television viewing has become a series of political ads for the US Senate, where one candidate after the other, bathing themselves in the aura of Christian values, proceeds to overstate the truth about themselves and blast the overstated claims of opponents. I’m thinking of disconnecting my land line, for no other reason than the simple fact my answering machine will no longer be filled with political phone calls. The mailbox is no different – if I believed what is on the flyers, postcards, posters, etc. that are in there daily, I would assume that Jesus must have been a card carrying member of the NRA who saw little need for concern for the poor and should have said “Don’t give Caesar anything” rather than “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s.” “The stones are crying out.”

If this sounds a little “anti-rightwing” it isn’t meant to be. The left of our political culture seems to not care enough about the gospel to abuse it. Jesus seemed to think that what we call “Christian values” could be summed up as “Love God, Love neighbor.” If that’s true – then neither the left nor the right should attempt to clothe themselves in the Jesus story.

My wife and I don’t even tell each other exactly who we vote for, so I can guarantee you this isn’t about for which candidate you should vote. I simply don’t want “the stones to cry out” about the abuse of gospel vocabulary while I sit back and vomit.

Little wonder that Barna reports that our culture’s attitude toward church is tanking.

What more?

The song begins with the beautiful lyrics of blessing and provision, but quickly moves to lament with the mournful words, “What more could have been done for my vineyard than I have done for it?” The prophet has become a folk singer, writing a song for his Beloved about a vineyard. The prophet is Isaiah and his parable/song can be found in Isaiah 5:1-7.

The Beloved had a vineyard on a fertile hill. He dug it up, cleared it of all stones and planted it with the best of the best when it comes to vines. Even more, He built a watchtower to guard it and a winepress to process its fruit. But, when He looked for a good crop, He discovered only bad fruit. To that reality, the Beloved declares, “What more could I have done?” Judgment follows that lament – the hedges are destroyed, the walls are torn down and it will become a wasteland covered with briars and thorns, imagery that reminds us of Adam’s expulsion from the garden.

In case his listeners miss the point of the song, Isaiah declares that Israel is the vineyard of the Lord and His delightful garden. Yet when He looked for justice, he found bloodshed; when He looked for righteousness, He heard cries of distress.

Fast forward several centuries and Jesus is in the midst of what only can be described as the week when  hell itself was breaking out on earth. It is the final week – holy week as we describe it. Somewhere during the timeline of that week, perhaps even Wednesday, Jesus tells a vineyard story. His story is found in Luke 20:9-19. In His story, there is a vineyard owner who has built a magnificent vineyard.  At harvest time, the owner sends a servant to collect his share of the harvest. The farmers who had rented the beat the servant and sent him away empty handed. He sends another, and yet another only to realize that the farmers have treated those servants much the same. 

Finally the owner decides to send his son. The son is described as the one “whom I love.” The owner thinks “surely they will respect him.” But the farmers decide that since the son is the heir, if they kill him the vineyard will be theirs. They do that, and Jesus ends the story by saying that the owner of the vineyard “will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.” It was, Jesus said, the fulfillment of Psalm 118’s “the stone the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” (118:22)

Luke reminds us that “the teachers of the law and the chief priests looked for a way to arrest him immediately, because they knew he had spoken this parable against them.” (20:19) I wonder if they weren’t thinking something like “I’ve heard a story like that before”? 

During holy week, followers of Jesus are confronted with the ultimate “What more could I have done?” lament from God. Holy week is a time for sober thinking about life, about our own engagement in “the vineyard” God has dug out and planted with the best vines, and a dose of honesty that compels us to answer that question with “Nothing, you have done more than I deserve.”

I hope that when God looks at my own life, His song doesn’t become the lament of “What more could I have done?” But for that to be true, He must find justice and righteousness, not bloodshed and distress. For that to be true, I surely must recognize that He is the owner, I’m not. As owner, He has expectations for me the farmer, to use Jesus’ analogy. 

At least “the teachers of the law and chief priests” understood that what Jesus was saying was aimed directly at their own hearts. May we be just that courageous and not cause God to lament over us with “What more could I have done?”

Whose Bible Is It?

I will never forget the Sunday morning I made the near fatal mistake of placing my Bible on the floor next to my chair on the stage from which I would soon preach. It was almost time for the Lord’s Supper and there was no place to put my Bible, so I casually placed it on the floor. I had no intention to be disrespectful of Scripture, but apparently I gave that impression. Someone came to me and whispered in my ear, “We don’t put the Bible on the floor here.”

Admittedly I was in a foreign land and knew little of the cultural expectations associated with owning a Bible. I quickly picked it up and all was forgiven. I’m guessing half the audience was thinking, “those arrogant Americans, don’t they know the Bible shouldn’t be put on the floor!” We can get pretty possessive about the Bible!

A part of the hoopla over the Noah movie right now reflects that sense of ownership. “These are our stories and no Hollywood screen writer can fool with it.”  While I get that some of that sentiment is born of our respect for Scripture, the truth remains that these stories belong to God and His church, not any of us as individuals. And if the standard is something like “unless you interpret it exactly right, don’t touch it,” that puts the Bible out of reach for me – and I’m guessing most folks.

One of my favorite theologians is Stanley Hauerwas. In his book, Unleashing the Scriptures, he notes that because “North American Christians” tend to read Scripture as democrats who get to vote on what it says, it “should be taken away from North American Christians.” I often make the chapter where he says that required reading in my class on interpreting the Scripture. As you can imagine, there is quite a bit of antagonism generated about that comment! Ultimately Hauerwas argues that the Bible belongs to the church, not any individual believer. But Hauerwas would argue that our overly individualistic spirit in Western culture makes us ill fit to interpret Scripture.

Most days I would disagree with Hauerwas – we shouldn’t take Scripture away from believers. I’ve spent a good portion of my life encouraging others to be more disciplined readers of Scripture. Some days, I must admit, I wonder if he might not be on to something! The Bible and its interpretation is a community event more than an individual exercise in the democratic process. Am I to think that no community of faith in the two thousand years of church history has understood something about Scripture that can help me? Or for that matter, should I think that no one among the followers of Jesus I know best could contribute to my understanding of what God intended His Word to teach me?

But the more evangelical world of faith around me is filled with “What this means to me . . .” as though God intended the words of Scripture to be a personal message to whoever “me” is. My interpretation classes generally aren’t all that thrilled when I insist that the first question is not “what does this mean to me?” but “what did the author intend the original readers of the text to understand as its meaning?” In other words, the Bible wasn’t written to “us,” but, when properly understood, it can speak powerfully to us by way of its original readers.

Could that be why Paul includes among his lists of spiritual gifts such skills as pastors, teachers, prophets, and the like? This is not to suggest that the Bible doesn’t speak to us – but it is to suggest that there is a reason God put that grey matter between our ears – and we ought to use it!

Had you asked me while I was growing up what the Noah story was all about, I might have said something like “God likes zoos.” I think I remember a word or two about God’s saving Noah and his family, but mostly I remember the animals. My observation about this story is that is still primarily what gets taught in Bible studies, Sunday School classes, and other such opportunities. Especially is that true when the audience is children.

I haven’t seen the Noah movie yet – but will in a few weeks. But based on the reviews I’ve seen and read I am going to hazard a guess and suggest it probably isn’t all that faithful to the very brief and limited narrative about Noah in Genesis. Just a wild guess. But what I was taught as a kid growing up in church wasn’t exactly faithful to the story either. In either case, I don’t have the right story. Is one case worse than the other?

What my Sunday School class did accomplish was interest in the Noah story, and in the context of God’s community of faithful followers, I’ve come to know a lot more about Noah than I did as a kid. And, quite frankly, had to “unlearn” some of what I was taught. Thank God I didn’t get stuck in the individualism of thinking “I already know that story.”

So the current movie can do at least one positive thing for believers – it has started a cultural conversation that gives us opportunities to join. I have never seen a movie about a biblical story that gets it right. Even the wildly popular among believers Passion of the Christ takes some pretty serious liberty with the story as told by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. No offense to Charlton Heston, so did The Ten Commandments. But those movies, like Noah, gave believers – the community of faith – an opportunity for a conversation that we might not have had without them.

I can’t remember the last time someone asked me a question about Noah – that is, until about a week ago. But now it seems that the word Noah is part of lots of conversations. 

I’m not a movie critic, so after I’ve seen it, I won’t have much to say about the dialog, visual effects, and the like. But I’m thinking I would love to have conversations about the real story and what Scripture – Scripture that belongs to the church, not me – has to say about the story and its meaning.