Living Wittily

Community Breakdown and the Fruit of the Spirit

Given the relational mess in Galatia, where people were in danger of "devouring one another" (Paul's phrase), Paul's letter to the Galatian community of Christians is understandably strong and hard hitting. He is angry, anxious, stressed out and seriously upset at the possibility the Galatian Christians will give up their freedom in Christ, start playing the safe game of rule-keeping and never learn the call of God to walk in freedom, be constantly led by and faithfully keep in step with the Holy Spirit, who purs the love of God into their hearts and calls to the risks of commitment and transformational discipleship.

Paul has no hesitation in using every rhetorical trick in the book, has no compunction about using arguments that are manipulative, persuasive, adversative and at times downright dogmatically assertive. At the same time his genuine concern for them, and for the truth of the Gospel of Jesus is couched in language of approach, with invitation to dialogue, but not to negotiation if that means compromise on the central principle of their faith in the faithfulness of Jesus, to empower, enable and ensure their freedom in Christ to live for God in the power of the Spirit.

It's against that background that we come across Galatians 5.22-23, that cluster of virtues called the fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace,patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control. Having enumerated earlier in chapter 5.16-21, and in graphic detail, the works of the flesh, and described the chaotic, destructive impulses that drive ambition, selfishness and uncontrolled egotism, he contrasts these with the fruit of the Spirit. And while each virtue refers to individual character and personal transformation, Paul is writing not to an aggregate of individual, but to a troubled community. The Fruit of the Spirit is communal as well as individual, social as much as personal, describes the ethos of the community as well as the inner climate of the individual.

These nine virtues, together the fruit of the Spirit, are not exhaustive. Paul lists precisely the virtues of Christlikeness that most fully contradict the in-fighting, factionalism, relational breakdown, competitive rivalry, nasty back-biting, self-righteous condemning, habitual hostility and serial offensiveness of people so sure of their own rightness they have no idea how wrong they are. Pride, arrogance, self-righteousness, anger and the desire for payback are forms of blindness to the other, and of deafness to the words and the heart of the other. 

By contrast the fruit of the Spirit describes a disposition that is open, receptive, courteous, kenotic, disciplined by love, focused on peace, respectful of otherness, community building, relationally healing, intentionally generous, assuming the best, utilising an hermeneutic of trust rather than an hermeneutic of suspicion, and in all these senses, Christlike. Because only the one who can say Galatians 2.20:

"I have been crucified with Christ. I n o longer live, but Christ lives in me, and the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me".  

And when that life is lived in us the fruit of the Spirit of Christ is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control. And as Paul says, no law achieves that, only the transformative presence of the crucified and risen Christ, active in the world, the church and our lives. 

Going into 2014, the ninefold fruit of the Spirit would be a powerful and enlightening set of key performance indicators in a healthy church - how far are these Christlike dispositions evident in the ethos of the community, the inner climate of those who call themselves the people of God? 

The Book of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar, the Statue of Liberty, and the Founder of Apple.

The word is there are calls to build a statue of Steve Jobs, founder of Apple, the size of the Statue of Liberty. The significance of Steve Jobs for radical developments in computer technology, and therefore his contribution to communication, business, education, and the global reach of socially interactive culture is so self-evident it hardly needs arguing. When it comes to technological pioneering, ruthless leadership, intuitive business nous at genius level, there are not many who begin to compare with Steve Jobs as a giant in the land.

One of the biblical habits of mind, cultivated over a life of preaching and reflection on the interface of scripture and culture, is to question whether there are parallel histories and narratives in the Bible to some of the big stories of our time. Where in the Bible are there stories of massive statues built to honour people of power? 

The young cultural critic, name of Daniel, living in Babylon, found himself in a hard place when Nebuchadnezzar had one of his anxiety dreams. Those who hold absolute power are subject to anxiety dreams occasionally I guess. Like all ego worshipping tyrants King Neb took offence at the limitations of human knowledge and ordered all the wise people to be executed because no one could interpet his dreams. Which is where Daniel came in, and sensed the dangers of oversized statues and overgrown egos. In Daniel 2, Daniel teaches the CEO of the Babylonian Empire a lesson in history and the importance of the historical perspective for Imperial policy.

But by chapter 3, Nebuchadnezzar's ego is injected with steroids and he has the biggest statue of the Empire built, made of gold, erected on a huge flat plain and visible for miles.In his dream the big statue only had a head of of gold, but that seems to have gone to his head; he forgot the rest was made in descending order of value and durability all the way down to the feet of clay. So his ego has morphed into a 90 foot golden statue. And at that point his ego is fed by an adrenalin rush of hubris, inordinate pride, arrogant self-determination, the will to power gone to seed. 

Which brings me back to the Statue of Liberty, and Steve Jobs. The Statue of Liberty stands 111 feet from heel to top of head, 21 feet taller than King Neb's. So a statue of Jobs that was 111 feet would be bigger than the biggest biblical statuary proportions. That has to make us pause, and think, about the power of a marketing brand in the service of empire.

Much more could be said - and in a laeter post it might be interesting to reflect on Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, a fiery funace, and the defiance of three other young cultural critics who recognised the dangers of a society where you are asked to sell your soul to the market, commanded to buy into the mindset, and threatened with dire consequences if you don't dance to the tune of the empire. Daniel 3 is a text for our time - I feel a sermon coming on......

You can read more about the plans for Steve Jobs' memorial here

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/08/16/steve-jobs-statue-campaign_n_3765822.html?ncid=wsc-ukhf-tech-headline

Lost in Translation: Ephesians 1.11

Language is a funny thing - and a very serious thing. Words never convey exactly 'the thing in itself'. But then if two people use the same word, it will resonate with different tones and notes depending on experience, personal usage, accepted meaning and much else. It gets more complex translating words into another language where none of the foregoing can be assumed, and where questions of accuracy oscillate between literal and dynamic equivalents. Add to that a gap of two thousand years and a cultural gulf between Greco-Roman and Postmodern Western civilisations and ways of life, and translation becomes pure dead complicated. (Pure dead is a compound adjective used in the West of Scotland for 'very', as in its phonetic use puredeadbrilliant) Oh, and by the way, I have a friend who also uses the term 'pure disgrace' as his ultimate term of moral opprobrium by oxymoron.

Anyway, I was reading Stephen Fowl's commentary on Ephesians, and his translation of verse 11a. I'm used to the phrase, 'In Christ we have an inheritance....' Fowl translates 'In Christ we have an allottment...'. a long footnote justifies this choice of word because 'it does not invoke the image of passing on property through death.' The commentary explains this further, quite persuasively. However. Language is a funny thing. The word 'allottment' may not invoke the inheritance theme, but to one brought up in the West of Scotland it certainly evokes the image of a fertile vegetable allottment. Those collective squares of quilted horticulture, 10 metres square or so, have been so important in staving off starvation, and then during the two World Wars providing fresh produce, and now husbanded by many an amateur gardener. You can read the history of the British Allottment movement here. Of course land development has bulldozed over many of them, to build yet more business opportunities. But the word allottment is still a powerfully evocative word for soil cultivation, food production and many a productive hour of gentle labour.

I will forego the children's talk formula, "That's a bit like Jesus.... In Jesus we have an allottment." But I think I'll have to retrain my mind if I'm to manage to read this verse in Fowl's translation without the extraneous connotations of something entirely different. Which of course is one of the major headaches for a translator - what seems fitting and appropriate to one mind, seems strange to another, because, well, words do not contain all the resonances and associations from one mind to another. Stephen Fowl in Baltimore, Maryland, cannot possibly be expected to know that his chosen word when heard by Scottish ears evokes very different images.

That aside, I think Fowl's commentary is puredeadbrilliant. :))

The photo of allottments is by Kate Davies whose own blog you can find here. I hope you don't mind its reproduction here Kate.

The Living Paul: What it Means to Confess Christ as Lord.

You know when you are reading an author who knows his (or her) stuff, and who writes with an authority that doesn't need to name drop in footnotes, or pile up reasons for the reasons that makes their argument cogent. They say as much in a paragraph as others do in pages; they cut through the tangle of unclear thinking, or cumulative referencing of alternative viewpoints, and give you the considered conclusions from that process.

Anthony Thiselton does that in his brief, rich, and satsifying book The Living Paul. Part of what makes Thiselton an academic treasure to many of us is the sheer range and scale and variety of his intellectual discipleship. His major works on Hermeneutics range from substantial, to massive to gargantuan. His dictionary of the philosophy of religion is a one man vade mecum on the subject. His magnum opus in New Testament studies is his commentary on I Corinthians, universally recognised as a defining contribution to the study of that letter for this generation; and then he publishes a briefer more accessible commentary on the same letter which isn't a summary, but a further fresh reconsideration of the letter. His latest work on The Holy Spirit; in Biblical Teaching, Through the Centuries and Today is moving along my reading shelf. His book on The Last Things can be compared with N T Wright's Surprised by Hope as a genuine wrestling with eschatology, Christian hope and biblical teaching, drawing out wide discussion on areas of Christian thinking and reflection that remain existentially urgent.

Amongst the shorter books on Paul I've valued are TR Glover's Paul of Tarsus (back in print), C K Barrett's volume in the Outstanding Christian Thinkers Series and N T Wright's Paul: Fresh Perspectives. These are books for orientation, revision, and a reasonably brief survey of Paul's life and thought. The easy expertise I mentioned at the start of the post is evident throughout Thiselton; Romans, Galatians and Philippians are each summarised in a page or two of distilled scholarship and narrative.

The following paragraph is characteristic:

"...two distinct aspects  for part of what it means to confess Christ as Lord. The practical aspect, which gives the confession currency in daily life, may be called the personal, or 'existential' aspect. The aspect which underlines God's enthronement of Christ, however humans may responde, grounds the confession in reality, and may be called the 'reality' or ontological aspect. ...If this is so, and it does seem to be the case, the confession cannot be a simple assent to a head-content, or to a right beliefe about Jesus Christ. It implies not less than this, but more. It involves trust, involvement, surrender, obedience, reverence, and grateful love."

The meaning, nature and reality of faith in Jesus Christ, and confession of Christ as Lord is reduced to its concentrate in that last sentence. This is a fine book, and a refreshing holiday read. Rembrandt's Paul gives every impression of being stuck, trying to think his way forward as he writes to maybe the Roman Christians about life in the Spirit, or the Galatians with whom he's furious, maybe the Corinthians whose problems multiply like rabbits in Spring. Either way, remember he doesn't have a keyboard with a delete or cut and paste facility, and papyrus is expensive. So he thinks before he writes - always a good rule :)

The Text as Critic: What makes us and Keeps us Christian?

I've just spent a while reading Paul's two letters to the Thessalonian Christians. I'm reading Paul's letters in chronological order, and reading each of them in their entirety at a sitting. Paul could never have remotely imagined the centuries of scholarship and study, exegetical and expository activity, contemplative prayer and public reading, that would expose his occasional at times frantic writing to letter by letter scrutiny, word by word lexical analysis, syntactical disentangling, grammatical scrutiny, theological construal, contextual reconstruction, textual criticism and socio-rhetorical examination.

I've spent most of my life immersed in the New Testament and the Hebrew Scriptures, and Paul has been a conversation partner with whom I've argued, to whom Ive listened, whose company I've mostly enjoyed, whose tone of voice has often comforted, upset, inspired, interrogated, rebuked, encouraged and nourished my mind and heart. So I'm spending some time trying to hear once again what he is saying. You know how those few close friends we have who know us so well we can't kid on in their presence, they know us. And we know them too well to be daft enough to think we can wing it and present only a selected self? Paul is like that for me - actually, so is the Jesus of the Gospels, only more so, but that's another story.

Near the end of the second letter to the Thessalonians Paul writes one of his wish prayers, which comes as a softener for some of the hard things said and one or two hard words that follow. "May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ." (2Th 3.5) Just now and then words like that clarify what it is that makes us and keeps us Christian. The way Paul writes the phrase " the love of God" is deliberately ambiguous - it's about how we read the genitive 'of' - is it the love of God for us, or our love of God. Likewise the steadfastness of Christ - the word means faithful, longsuffering, durable, persevering, indefatigable - it's a word that is much more descriptive of the real thing than those abstract nouns so loved by preachers, such as commitment, decision. Christ's steadfastness towards us enables our perseverance; his durable love enables us to endure; unless we trust the steadfastness of Christ towards us, it will be hard for us to live after and in the steadfastness of Christ. 

The psychology of Christian obedience is shaped by profound gratitude for the love with which God loves us, and given resilience and durability by Jesus Christ whose own patience and perseverance endured the cross, and defeated death, and lives in resurrected power that makes new, creates grace, and recreates us.

I've never used this verse as a benediction at the end of worship. I'm not sure I've ever heard it used. Has anyone else? But next time....

"May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ."

Yesterday I met my steadfast friend Ken for breakfast and a long catch up. His life is now divided between the United States and Scotland, and we try to meet up each time he is back here. Amongst our obvious shared passions are reading and books, and there is probably a book could be written about our book chasing adventures -like the one at the greasy B&B in Oxford. That too is another story. As was our attempt yesterday to eat a soft poached egg in a roll with some decorum, minimum mess, sitting across from each other and with barely controlled hysteria!

The point of this diversion is that amongst the sacraments of the steadfastness of Christ are those friends who are steadfastly there, who share our lives, and by whose kindness and faithfulness direct our hearts to the love of God. I have several such sacraments.

Remaking Our Planned Future - the Road to Emmaus.

The image of this mosaic was sent to me me by a friend as an Easter greeting. It can be found in a small chapel in Ravenna in the North East of Italy. Amongst the post-resurrection stories the road to Emmaus captures our contemporary love affair with the metaphor of the journey.

Not that our fascination with the journey is particularly remarkable. From Abraham's travelling from Ur to the place God would take him, to Moses fleeing from, returning to, and fleeing from Egypt and leading the wandering of the people of Israel in the desert; from Naomi leaving Bethlehem for Moab to her bereavement and return with her daughter in law Ruth; from Elijah's 40 day scarper to mount Horeb, the long trek of the pilgrims in Psalm 121, and Jonah's failed attempt at giving God a body swerve to avoid Nineveh; from Israel's long forced march and exile in Babylon to the triumphant return through deserts that will blossom three generations later; from Joseph and Mary's slow progress to Bethlehem, and nocturnal flight to Egypt, to their son's 40 day walk in the wilderness, and from Jesus long walk to Jerusalem and death, to the disciples long walk to Emmaus and life, the biblical narrative is woven through with the metaphor and the story of people on a journey.

But the story of Emmaus retains its power and persuasion as a story of Christian experience. Confusion and fear, sadness and regret, broken dreams and emotional pain, minds closed to further hopefulness by the trauma of shattered hope. And yet they are travelling, as if movement at least had the impetus to get life going again. And talking as they go, because talking about things somehow eases the pressure of hurt, recognises and gives in to the human need to make sense, to put into words what can't ever be fully described. Communication, knowing another heart feels something similar, that the loss and hurt aren't borne alone, that by talking we try to salvage sense and purpose out of what has wrecked a hoped for future.

So they walk and talk, and are joined by a third. And their confusion and fear and pain blind them to the presence of one who understands more than they have ever known. No wonder they wanted him to stay over, to keep them company. Indeed this story is one of the great moments in the Bible when our need of others, their support and help, their strength and love, is most plainly stated and most fully understood. And then the moment of breaking bread, the lightning flasho insight and recognition, and the vanishing of the one who made it clear he would always be there.

It is a stunning story of those life-transforming moments of encounter, when Jesus is fully present to us, but we can be so inwardly focused we don't notice. And even if we never notice at the time, we look back and wonder how we got here, where the strength came from, how hope began to grow again, and our hearts burn within us, because he was there, and is here.

All of that, and so much more, is in that lovely mosaic, an art form in which thousands of tiny pieces are arranged into a completeness that requires skill, imagination, patience and planned purpose. Not a bad description of how God works on the mosaic of our circumstances and experiences.

Shalom - a Tapestry of Psalms - Psalm 1

Since Christmas I have been working on a large six panel tapestry which brings together the word Shalom, and the Book of Psalms. During Advent I completed a small tapestry featuring the Hebrew word 'shalom ', and it was based around some passages from Isaiah. I wrote about it while it was still in progress, which you can read here and get some idea of what I'm playing at. I don't mind the phrase 'playing at', it combines fun, recreation and experiment.

In due course I will do a second small one with the Hebrew word 'hesed'. I have chosen these two words because they open theological horizons, no one definition or statement of meaning comes close to expressing the 'thick textual textures'  they create. That's why they are fertile theological ground, rich in possibility for exploring through the texture of textile colour and image. I have chosen six psalms which separately and together celebrate the God of shalom and hesed. And the two smaller panels will celebrate the equally rich poetry of Isaiah. When they are finished, the long Shalom column and the two small Hebrew tablets will hang in a cruciform pattern.

The panel above is on Psalm 1. The imagery is mostly self-evident, once you're told what the psalm text is. The stability of the life founded on study of Torah, meditation on the word of God, contemplative attentiveness to the gracious command and commanding grace of God. In the foreground the sylised orderliness of the landscape contrasts with the flowing rapids of life-giving water. The fecund trees with evergreen foliage and sound abundant fruit make blessing both visble and extravagant. Shalom is continual fruitfulness and roots irrigated from constant living water. Shalom is stability and constancy that comes from deep roots, plunged like anchors into the ground, the tree in its ideal environment. Torah is the ideal environment for the human heart, will, conscience and mind - no wonder the wise delight in such reflective obedience and reverent enquiry.

Isaiah 35 - Giving up Complacency for Lent

My Lenten reading is the work of one of the greatest poets in the Hebrew language. Pushed to discuss critical issues I am persuaded that Isaiah in its canonical form comes to us from at least two authors, and that 1-39 are pre-exilic and 40-66 are exilic but anticipating the end of exile and the return home. But the book of Isaiah as we have it is itself a work of great literary and theological power. Chapter 35 is one of those dream chapters in which the prophet talks into being a different kind of world and an alternative future. And some of the images in it and in 40-66 are of the essence of spiritual hopefulness and theological adventure.

I have the privilege (I NEVER use that word lazily as pious cliche - always it is chosen with as much humility as I can humbly claim!) - I have the privilege of leading worship in one of our churches throughout the Lenten season. Lent is the time for spiritual re-orientation, or for an internal audit, or to go through a personal appraisal in our discipleship, a kind of continuing persoanl development review that is honest, thorough and forward looking. I think what we need to give up for Lent is our secular worldview. Now both those words are contested - secular versus sacred is way out of date as a meaningful distinction in a pluralist, multic-cultural, post-Christian society where spirituality is no longer disenfranchised just because it isn't theistic. And as for world-view - that sounds too much like meta-narrative and we all know how suspicious we have all to become of meta-narratives.

Even granted those two strident disclaimers, I want to give up that secular worldview that is itself a form of intellectual, emotional and theological exile. Second Isaiah wrote to people for whom life had become wilderness, hope had dried up into a dessicated vague complaceny, and for whom any thought of finding home again withered under the sheer heat of circumstance and the weight of the status quo. How could it be any different? Where outside of political realities of power and economic pressures of oppression and recession, were there realistic possibilities of change. Politics and economics are human sciences that have no sense whatsoever of the transcendent, of realities more ultimate than them, of visions more permanent, or hopes more human, or dreams more desirable than the ones they peddle.

And Isaiah says, "Thus says the Lord...". And from beneath the desert ,water gurgles up in glad contradiction of all the surrounding aridity and banality; and out of the sand crocuses burst into colours of purple, gold and white and we ask where the heaven did they come from!; and across the trackless waste of a culture which has spent the last century or three removing known roads, familiar paths and moral rights of way a new moroway is under construction. That's Isaiah 35, and that's his alternative worldview, one in which change is possible and promised; one in which the transcendent tears open our sealed this worldly way of looking at things. And yes, for all our cultural analysis and social theorising, Isaiah has little interest in arguing about the sacr4ed and secular, because it all belongs to God beside whom there is no other. Forget intellectual plea bargains; this is a prophet who tells it as it is because he believes that is exactly how it is. God makes deserts blossom; gurgling springs in the wilderness are the least of his miracles; and as for the motorway across the barren trackless terrain, the One who will one day declare in the words of the Word made flesh, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life..."

Lent is about remembering that, living into it, and looking for the God of hope.

(The photo is of the spring in Aberdeen Botanic gardens, a hidden source of irrigation that you only find if you listen and look for where the gurgling is coming from!)

A Theology of Reading and the Stranger Christ Who Comes Alongside.

The recent advert for the MacMillan Daffodil Donate an Hour appeal, computes the amount of time we spend doing things in an average lifetime. It throws up some "makes you think" statistics. 7,000 hours in supermarkets was one that surprised me till I thought about it. 280 days with a basket or a trolley and a wallet. That's more than a year of working days. And what Macmillan's are asking is just one hour; on average collectors bring in over £40 an hour, so the argument is persuasive. That's quite apart from the wonderful work MacMillan nurses do to accompany and support those who are in the later stages of illness from cancer. I don't need any more encouragement to give to this charity whose work I've witnessed first hand in numerous pastoral situations. Those who care for the dying carry out a ministry that has deep roots in the soil of Christian charity and medical comfort

But it set me thinking about the time I spend reading. Not as much as I used to; not as much as I like to; not as much even as I need to. There are many other important and urgent calls on time, energy and attentiveness. This post is not an apologia for reading; I take the value of reading for granted as a formative, humanising, life enriching, socially informing, intellectually nourishing, morally challenging and educationally effective human  activity. What I am now researching is the theological importance of reading for personal formation, and as a pastime which requires an ethic of reading so that its formative power is genuinely free to challenge and subvert, or inform and affirm, what we know, what we ought to know, how we know it and crucially, what we do with what we know. Oh, and incidentally, "pastime" need not mean desultory non productive time, which has its own value - but a valid way for a human person to pass the time in ways that enhance their humanity and person).

In other words, quite self-consciously and specifically as a Christian, I am interested in reading not only as an intellectual discipline, but as discipline which requires an ethic, a theology and an obedience to the word consonant with our obedience to the Word made flesh. Reading is a search for the Truth that in knowing Him sets free. Reading is a regularly recurring Emmaus journey trying to make sense of things and thrilled when the Stranger Christ comes alongside to rebuke, to expound, to accompany, and to

 

break the bread of life once again. So whether theology or biography, poetry or dogmatics, ethics or novels, history or mystery, philosophy or art, what we read, how we read, why we read, and the immediate and durable effects of the acts of reading are highly significant in following faithfully after Jesus. As a Christian I am also and always a seeker, a listener, a student, with a mind that thinks, a heart that feels and a body that is a living sacrifice. Sotrying as hard as I can, and receiving as much grace as my life can hold, I am engaged in the life work of making this self holy and wholly acceptable to God, which is my reasonable service. Yes that's it, reasonable service.

 On the superficial and playful level I am a bibliophile. But in the deep places of the will, the heart and the mind, I am a lover of the One who took the scroll and read, and declared a manifesto for the transformation of the world. So I won't compute the number of hours I may have spent reading since those early days I worked through the bookcase in our farm cottage. A more important computation is what I have done with the reading, and what it has done to me, by the grace of God, and maybe occasionally by my own determined Emmaus walk. And how I have responded to the countless times the Stranger who is Christ has come alongside to teach, to accompany, and to take the bread and break it so that my eyes are opened in glad recognition, and I see differently, more truly and with something of the loving gaze of God on a world shocked back into life by Resurrection. 

Fighting Against and Fighting For.

I do not deny that I love a good fight,

but I also know that it is a mistake,

at least if you are a Christian,

to have your life or theology determined by who you think are your enemies.

Christians know we will have enemies

because we are told we must love our enemies.

That we are commanded to love our enemies

is not a strategy to guarnatee that all enmity can be overcome,

but a reminder that for Christians our lives must be determined

by our loves, not our hates.

That is why Christians cannot afford to let ourselves be defined

by what we are against.

Whatever or whomever we are against,

we are so only because God has given us so much to be for.

(Stanley Hauerwas, A Better Hope (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2000), page 9.

The picture is of Dorthy Day loving her enemies, and showing what she is for, and therefore what she is against. It serves as a monochrome icon.