October Newsletter

Fall has arrived! But, I must admit, it was not much of a surprise. Even if I forget the day or month, I still recognize fall. For me, the seasonal transition to fall is distinctly tangible. The crisp air and redolent fragrances seem to suggest the coming colors and the falling leaves. I can feel fall “in my soul,” so to speak. The air, the change in temperature, and the subtle shift in light are penetrating, even if I am not aware of them at first. Something stirs inside me, and when I pause to examine this “feeling,” I notice fall. For me, fall arrives from the inside out.

I think faith is kind of like that. Some great Christian thinkers (and I’ll talk more about my favorites in next month’s Newsletter) talk about faith as an existential or fundamental trust. Trust in what? Trust in God. More precisely, and in a Christian sense, we can think of faith as trust in the meaningfulness of life itself as it is disclosed by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This isn't something we can objectify and intellectually assent to; rather, we sense it stirring within as we live our lives. We suddenly sense life has been meaningful all along, even if we didn't recognize it at first (and, even when we forget!). Faith, like fall, is something that manifests itself from the inside out. I can feel faith “in my soul.”

Yet, so many times I hear faith talked about as if it is some kind of proposition which can be separated from our lives and scrutinized for its truth status. Faith, in this way, becomes an isolated object. If we reduce faith to theory and leave it intellectualized, we then risk losing the flesh and blood which give it life. Maybe people don’t have faith, but faith has people. However we talk about it, faith cannot be reduced to a proposition and treated like another one of our possessions. We don’t have faith like we have a car, or home, or book.

I will be the first to admit that I love to reflect philosophically and theologically on the Christian faith tradition. Despite the lurking danger of “thinking too much,” my reflections have prompted me to think about faith as an embodied reality. It is a “feeling” that springs on us from within as we live and move and have our being. We can sense its penetrating presence, even when we haven't named it. Think of a beautiful sunrise that not only causes you a brief pause, but fully captures your attention. In those moments of breath-taking awe we don’t have the sunrise, the sunrise has us! Some sunrises we can sense “in our soul.”

As we move into the fall season, may we also live into faith as an embodied trust that we feel “in our soul.” May we find that life is always already meaningful thanks to the God we find in Jesus Christ; and may that meaning permeate the totality of our lives: thought, word, and deed.
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For Further Reference

Christian "existential thinking" can be found in thinkers stretching back to Paul, Augustine, and Luther. For a 20th century "theological existentialist," see Paul Tillich and his Courage to Be or Dynamics of Faith.

The notion of faith as "feeling" connects with a tradition flowing forth from the 18th cenutry German Romanticist Friedrich Schleiermacher. See his On Religion or The Christian Faith. Please note, "feeling" in this sense is not to be confused with a reduction to our bodily sense-perceptions.

Biblical Languages

There is a common misconception about the biblical text that is unfortunately used to legitimate certain theological readings. Specifically, "original languages" do not offer a magical key into the concrete (and only) meanings of biblical passages, phrases, or words. Across the globe, on any given Sunday, a congregant might hear the words "but the original Greek tells us that this is what Paul meant by..." The idea that biblical Greek (or Hebrew) offers unquestionable clarity to English (or other) renderings is, I would argue, irresponsible.

Biblical Greek, or Koine Greek, is not unambiquous. There are not only difficulties and decisions involved in translation, but difficulties in constructing literal meanings with words and sentences employed with poor or ambiguous syntax. There are local tendencies with language and writing which effect authors, and which might be undetectable to our research and readings of the Greek or Hebrew texts. These nuances of language make authoritative appeal to the "original" biblical language quite problematic.

Whatsmore, there is not one "original" Greek or Hebrew text. We do not have the original "Leviticus," "Mark" or "Romans." What we have are copies, which vary by source, that create new kinds of interpretive and editorial problems for translators, theologians and linguists. Mis-spellings, editorial revisions, editorial additions, and theologically charged political struggles all touch the texts within the Hebrew Bible and New Testament. Different religious communities considered their texts sacred, and renditions of certain texts varied by community. These compilations make a univocal reading of any particular text problematic. Which text should we choose in reconstructing "the text," and why?

Beyond this, there are differences related to the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible (the Septuagint). For instance, the Hebrew word for virgin can also be translated young girl. The Septuagint, which was available to the author of Matthew, translated that Hebrew word in a certain portion of Isaiah with a Greek word specific for virgin (indicating that the Septuagint translator(s) interpreted the Hebrew word in a certain way). Although the Hebrew word MAY have meant virgin, it definately meant virgin in the Greek translation. This, then, was the basis for the "virgin birth." This prophetic text, ambiguous in Hebrew, becomes a central theological event in the Christian narrative.

All these issues, I think, cloud the "clarity" trumpeted by many contemporary ministers and theologians.

As a result, we can not be so crass as to appeal to "original texts" for the last word on a theological discussion, debate, or difficulty. We must realize that a chain of interpretive decisions have led us not only to our English translation of the biblical text, but to the Hewbrew and Greek texts which are our sources for translation. We must proceed with humility and caution amidst languages which do not always provide concrete answers, but more questions.

Palin and Women's Issues

A fellow divinity school student recently sent out an e-mail calling our attention to the issue of Sarah Palin's vice presidential bid as it intersects with conservative evangelical theology and the issue of women's leadership. He pointed us toward a provocative article which can be found at http://blogs.usatoday.com/oped/2008/09/the-palin-predi.html.

Although the "women's leadership issue" is one of great concern for many on both sides of the debate (about the legitimate role of women as leaders in the home, church, and/or civil office), the Palin vice presidential bid adds a further dimension. This is the dimension of the relationship between "religious beliefs" and "state office." It is not just about the legitimacy of Palin's bid, but about the legitimacy of her supporters supporting her while holding certain religious views (some assessments might render such support and certain conservative biblical views to be in "cognitive dissonance"). The issue seems ripe for all kinds of comments about the nature of political and religious participation: are the political and religious "spheres" distinct and separate, distinct but not separate, or completely intertwined?

Regardless of our political persuasion (Democrat, Republican, Green, Libertarian, Independent, etc), Palin-for-vice-president catapults the discussion regarding women in leadership into religious forums. This is a sensitive area for many, and discussion, I believe, will move us in a positive direction.

So, with that in mind, I have some questions:

1. If one believes (for whatever reason) that women should not have "spiritual leadership" in the home or church, can a woman still have leadership in civil office? If yes, does this imply that civil office is NOT a spiritual position of leadership?
2. If one believes (for whatever reason) that women should not have ANY leadership in home or church, can a woman still have leadership in civil office? If yes, on what grounds? Is civil office NOT a position of leadership?
3. Can one still support a vice-presidential candidate even if her role is not considered legitimate (for whatever reason) for such reasons as "the lesser of all the evils"?
4. Is the Palin-for-vice-president issue constructive for our country?

I hope you find these questions interesting and worth responding to as I would love to read your comments!

Ministry, Kenotic Theology and the Interruption of Christ

My internship is a month underway and the tidal wave of ministry is washing over me already. I am not overwhelmed (at least not yet!), but I am reminded of the gravity and intensity of this vocation. It is truly a “calling.” Parish ministry is not just sermon preparation and community “high-fiving.” Rather, ministry is about challenging and comforting, encouraging and directing, paying attention to details and keeping the “big-picture” in mind. It comes with peculiar challenges, including both existential crises and mundane worries. And it comes with spectacular affirmation.

The complexities and ambiguities of ministry have the potential to overwhelm (thus, my metaphor “tidal wave,” above), but they can also be cleansing (in the fire-hose “blasting” kind of way—thus, my choice of “cleansing,” above). Ministry exists in this unique tension between threat and growth, dissolution and fulfillment.

To switch metaphors, the seriousness and weight of ministry is nothing short of an “interruption” (maybe, to combine metaphors, the “interruption” of a tidal wave?). But I mean this term in a more profound and less common sense; the sense without the negative connotation of “distracting me from what I need to get done.” Instead, I mean ministry-as-interruption to be an “eruption” that occurs “into” the normal course of life.

Eruptions are powerful and transformative. Think volcanoes here. They suddenly explode with tremendous internal pressure, sending voluminous ash and lava into the air. The horizon is altered, the landscape reformed. This is eruption.

But ministry-as-interruption is not simply a one-time cataclysmic rupture in the distance. Unlike most volcanic eruptions, ministry-as-interruption happens here, now, and everywhere (more like the volcano from the movie “Volcano”). It is the eruption into our normal course of life that forever changes the shape and meaning of that life, precisely because we didn't expect it. Unlike carefully protected observers, ministers are faced with interruption. And interruptions are dangerous.

When we are interrupted we are altered. Sometimes our pace is slowed (the more common sense of “interruption”), and sometimes our direction is shifted. Ministry-as-interruption may very well slow our pace, but often it is because our direction has (and needed to be!) shifted. Ministry-as-interruption is a place of unsettling re-direction.

Fortunately, I take comfort (and, thus, resist being overwhelmed) in the Kenotic Christ who interrupted our world. This is the self-emptying (Greek: kenosis) Christ who changed how we think of God, how we see ourselves, and how we live in our world. This is the direction-changing Christ who happened upon us, happens upon us, and will happen upon us. And this is true, I think, whether we see Christ-the-interruption historically or personally. Because I serve a Christ of interruption, I can only expect to be interrupted. But this, I maintain, is a good thing, even if it is a dangerous thing.

So may the tidal wave of ministry blast me with its force, so that I might be washed by its life-changing re-direction as I serve out Christ-the-interruption through his ministry-as-interruption. May interruptions lead me forward, even if forward is not always the same path.