scripture – Page 57 – An Informed Faith

For our instruction … that we might have hope (Rom 15, Isa 11, Matt 3; Advent 2A)

As Paul comes to the end of his letter to the Romans—a letter in which he quotes, time and time again, from the scriptures of his people, the Hebrew people, the books we know as the Old Testament—he makes a passing comment which, in my mind, is a penetrating insight into how he operates.

Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction,

so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures

we might have hope, he writes (Rom 15:4).

We have that section of the letter included in our readings this coming Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent. I suspect that the reason that this section is included is because Paul here goes on to quote from a collection of scriptures, each of which, in his mind, justifies what he is doing as he writes to the Romans.

My understanding of this letter is that Paul writes to persuade the Jewish Christians that they are to be welcoming, hospitable, and inclusive of the Gentile Christians who are part of the various house churches in Rome; as he says,

by grace, through faith, all are saved; there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. (Rom 3)

And so, the letter moves towards its close with this quotation:

I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.

As it is written, “Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name”;

and again he says, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people”;

and again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him”;

and again Isaiah says, “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.” (Rom 15)

This passage grounds the reality of the church in the gathering of disparates, Jews and Gentiles; it also grounds our faith in the advent of Jesus, the one who draws Jews and Gentiles together; and it provides us with this seasonal word, during the season of Advent, as it points us to hope.

In the prophetic oracle set in the lectionary alongside the apostolic letter, Isaiah offers a wonderful vision of cosmic peace and universal co-operation:

The wolf shall live with the lamb,

the leopard shall lie down with the kid,

the calf and the lion and the fatling together,

and a little child shall lead them.

The cow and the bear shall graze,

their young shall lie down together;

and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,

and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.

They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain;

for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD

as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11)

However, this vision of peace appears in our lectionary alongside some harsh striking words, about the judgement that is associated with this vision. As the evangelist writes about the coming of the promised one—the one who will,presumably bring about this era of peace—he reports words spoken by John the Baptiser, which offer this sense of judgement:

His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire. (Matt 3)

And again, in the Gospel for today, this message of judgement and punishment is vividly conveyed:

Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. (Matt 3)

This is a stern word. It seems strange for us, during Advent, as we prepare for Christmas, to be hearing such clanging, jarring sounds. Although, as one of my colleagues said to me earlier this week, as we talked about the offerings on hand in the lectionary during this season:

The soundtrack of Advent is not jingle bells;

It is the sound of a hammer on an anvil.

For the incessant message of the prophets is one which calls us to account. The hammer strikes the anvil, once, twice, repeatedly, marking the surface, forging the shape, creating the essence of the person. And the message of the prophets places before us an insistence that we need to act ethically, live responsibly, with justice and equity, as we wait with hope for the coming of the one who will bring in the promised time of peace.

Indeed the prophet, as he envisages the presence of this one, so long hoped for, as he considers how “a shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots”, describes him in this way:

Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,

and faithfulness the belt around his loins. (Isaiah 11)

The one to come will exemplify righteousness, and will assess the fruit produced by those he encounters. He will execute judgement by swinging the axe, cutting down the tree, and burning the branches in the fire; and, as the prophet declares,

He shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,

and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.

The soundtrack of Advent is not jingle bells;

It is the sound of a hammer on an anvil.

As we reflect on these words during this season, we do so with prayerful anticipation, with resolute hopefulness, with persistence and openness to God’s way in our midst, for we yearn to encounter afresh this chosen one:

The spirit of the LORD shall rest on him,

the spirit of wisdom and understanding,

the spirit of counsel and might,

the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.

His delight shall be in the fear of the LORD.

He shall not judge by what his eyes see,

or decide by what his ears hear;

but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,

and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;

he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,

and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.

Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,

and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

Leaving Luke . . . Meeting Matthew

This week is a pivot point in the year. Not in the calendar year—where attention is focussed on the drive towards the Great Commercial Festival of Christmas—but in the church year. This is the last week of the year, in the calendar which the church follows in its liturgical life. It is the week when the old year ends, leaving behind the Festival of the Reign of Christ, and the new year begins, moving into the Season of Advent, and then on into Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and beyond. And so, the cycle begins once more.

It is also the time of the year when the Gospel which is in focus in the writings heard each Sunday, shifts from one Gospel to another. The year past (identified as Year C in the Revised Common Lectionary) has maintained a steadfast focus on the book which describes itself as “an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us”—a work which know as the Gospel according to Luke.

The year now commencing (identified as Year A) provides us with a tour through another work, which introduces itself as “the book of the origins of Jesus the chosen one”—the work which we know as the Gospel according to Matthew. And so, this week, we are leaving Luke, and meeting Matthew.

Of course, both works tell the story of the man from Galilee, called to a prophetic role of inviting his people to renew their covenant relationship with their God and live faithfully within that renewed relationship; a man who gathered a group of committed followers whom he taught and told stories that offered a vision of God’s realm.

Both accounts relate how those followers travelled with their leader, from Galilee in to Jerusalem, where they witnessed the arrest, trials, crucifixion, and burial of their leader—who, they subsequently attested, had been raised from the dead and had appeared to them to commission them for their ongoing task. This much is found in both the “orderly account” and the “book of origins”.

So how do these stories differ? Each book came into being in a different context. The “orderly account”, it would seem, originated in a place where the vision of a renewed people, as proclaimed by Jesus, offered a sense of a broad, inclusive community—and people were being challenged to live as that community. The “book of origins”, it appears, came into being in a place where tensions and antagonisms between different groups within that one people had led each group to intensify their sense of who they were—and people were being instructed on the details of the way of righteousness that they were to follow.

What shades of interpretation and differences of perspective are there, when we move from “the orderly account of the things being fulfilled”, to “the book of origins of Jesus the chosen one”? How do these two stories, focussed on the same central person and reporting a largely quite similar set of events, differ from one another?

Luke’s “orderly account” offers a story in which Jesus functions as an eschatological prophet of hope, offering an attractive vision of the coming kingdom, pointing to the ways that God is calling the people of God on earth to work towards the realisation of that vision in the realities of the here and now: good news for the poor, sight for the blind, mobility for the lame, acceptance for shunned outsiders, as a sign of the Jubilee Year being enacted.

We leave that story and move towards a story, in the “book of origins”, that portrays Jesus as a frightening apocalyptic messenger, booming forth a shrill warning about the perils of what is to come, if people do not change their ways and live in accord with the strict demands of the kingdom of heaven: walk the second mile, turn the other cheek, give your coat to the needy, obey each element of every law and commandment, strive to be perfect as God is perfection itself.

We leave behind a story that affirms that salvation is offered to “all flesh”, that salvation has come “this very day”, that soldiers acting unjustly under forced orders will be forgiven, that even condemned political rebels will be welcomed into the realm of paradise in the company of the Saviour. It is a story in which Jesus offers a gracious invitation to the lost and forsaken, a promise that they will be found and restored, a vision of the restoration of the people of Israel, a glimpse of the heavenly realm breaking into the time of the here and now.

We move towards a story that insists that the hope of the future is withheld from those within the chosen people, in Israel, who fail to live in accordance with the strictest interpretations of the laws and commandments that Jesus teaches them, who do not put his stringent teachings into practice in their daily life. The focus of Jesus through much of this story is on the lost sheep within Israel; their response, however, means that only a few enter through the narrow door.

Jesus this insists that those amongst his people who fail to follow his way will be judged for their failure to produce good fruit; they will be cast into a fiery furnace, and condemned for eternity. He persistently calls for a deeper righteousness, a more perfect faithfulness.

Towards the end of this story, however, Jesus looks beyond the people of Israel, and envisages an offer of hope and an acceptance into God’s realm, of those who live with an openness to others at their point of need. He envisages, then, a judgement amongst the nations that does not require the same stringent response as is required within the chosen people.

We leave behind a story that indicates, time after time, that Jesus was the friend of all, that he entered the houses of tax collectors and shared at table with them, that he went to the homes of Pharisees and ate with them, such that they became his friends and followers. In this story, Jesus was able to gather committed followers of people from right across society, who were willing to follow him well into the future. This “orderly account” particularly emphasises the active presence of women alongside men in that inner group of followers.

We move towards a story that specifies the many ways by which Jesus engaged in robust and vigorous disputations about how the laws and commandments were to be understood, and recounts those occasions, both in public and in household gatherings, when the debating style of Jesus moved from debate into polemic, from disagreement into diatribe, from accusation into invective and condemnation of the scribes and the Pharisees, who are sternly portrayed as the enemies of Jesus.

We leave behind a story that values inclusive community, that takes pains to show how Jesus sat at table with the outcasts of the time: utterly impoverished beggars, morally destitute sinners, totally marginalised lepers, and patriarchally oppressed women. The story provides regular accounts of the practice of open table fellowship in the time of Jesus, and points to the fact that this practice came to lay a foundation for a richly inclusive community of insiders and outsiders, women and men, rich and poor, Gentiles as well as Jews.

We move towards a story that emphasises the clarity of identity and passionate commitment that comes from knowing that the one who is followed is The Teacher supreme, arguing out the finer details of beliefs and practices, laying down the foundations for a community which exhibits certainty and confidence in their identity, differentiated from the dominant group of teachers (the scribes and Pharisees), utterly committed to a pathway of righteous living, firmly convinced of the validity of their understandings and interpretations.

We leave behind a story that has sought to prepare the way for a larger, more encompassing story, in which the small movement of immediate followers of Jesus blossoms out into a growing and impressive movement of committed people who become fervent and effective in their mission, welcoming newcomers in an inclusive manner and broadening the movement in waves of growth, such that it ultimately reaches “to the ends of the earth”.

We move into a story that mostly gives no indication of this wider impact of the message of Jesus (save only for a short final command to “go into all nations”), and which demonstrates far more concern for establishing a deeply committed community of practice of a small number of people within the heart of Israel, as people are renewed and rededicated to upholding the laws and commandments to the ultimate degree.

That’s the turn that we take, at this time, as we leave a year focussed on Luke’s “orderly account”, with a Jesus who proclaims and enacts a gracious invitation into a realm of inclusion and hope. We are moving into a year tracing the story provided in Matthew’s “book of origins”, where Jesus is intent on teaching the essence of righteousness and demanding intense adherence to this way of life.

The challenge for us, then, is to be honest about the nature of the story in this “book of origins”, and to declare, faithfully and clearly, what this story tells us about what it means to follow Jesus, the chosen one, in our own time.

For more on Luke’s “orderly account”, see

https://johntsquires.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/02/05/costly-discipleship-according-to-luke/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/05/22/jesus-and-his-followers-at-table-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/04/26/the-cross-cultural-nature-of-the-early-jesus-movement/

Ministry and Mission in the midst of change and transition (Luke 21:13; Pentecost 23C)

When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

“But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. (Luke 21)

In the long and disturbing speech that Jesus gave to his earliest followers towards the end of his ministry with them, he outlines what lay ahead in time for the people of his time—a speech referring to wars and insurrections, earthquakes, famines and plagues; betrayals, arrests and imprisonments; and even hatred. And we might want to add, from our immediate context, in the midst of a changing climate, more aggressive heatwaves and out of control bushfires—with all the damage and grief that this brings, as we have so recently seen.

In the midst of this speech, Jesus offers these simple, potent words: [all of] this will give you an opportunity to testify (Luke 21:13). I hear this as a piercing call to be on mission in precisely the tumult and turmoil of life as it rolls along, amidst all the upheaval and distress that life throws at us. Testifying to the hope we have and the love we know because of Jesus, is fundamental to who we are as the church.

To be on mission means to have a sense that we are sent to the people of the world. Mission comes from the Latin missio, the verb “to send”. Towards the end of the Gospel of John, we read that the risen Jesus appeared to his followers and said to them, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20). The first followers of Jesus were charged to be missionaries, sent, on mission, into the world.

In Greek, the corresponding term is apostello, the verb “to send”. The person who is sent for a specific purpose is known, in Greek, as an apostolos. We know how important it was, for the writers of the Synoptic Gospels, to depict the central role of a foundational group within the early church – those known as apostles, or “sent ones”.

We also know how important it was for Paul, who was not numbered among the first twelve, to be accepted as “an apostle of God, sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities, but [sent] through Jesus Christ and God the Father” (Gal 1). The first followers of Jesus understood themselves to be apostles, sent ones, on mission, into the world.

All of these texts feed into the call to be a church of mission, with a clear focus on mission. So the move for a Mission Focus in the local church has emerged out of a growing international and ecumenical grasp of the missio dei … the mission of embracing love towards the world, which God offers through Jesus Christ.

I reflect on this now, in the context of my own denomination, the Uniting Church in Australia. In our Basis of Union, there is a clear articulation of the centrality of Mission in the life of the church. The Basis clearly affirms that, as a Uniting Church, we seek “to enter more deeply into the faith and mission of the Church in Australia, by working together and seeking union with other Churches” (para. 2). Being on mission forms a central and essential dimension of contemporary life for the church.

Mission is at the heart of who we are, as the people of God. Mission is the key feature that we are seeking to highlight, and develop, within the contemporary church.

The importance of mission has been articulated in the Five Marks of Mission, developed by the Anglican Church in the UK and adopted by numerous denominations in many nations around the world. The Five Marks of Mission are:

1. To proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom TELL

2. To teach, baptize and nurture new believers TEACH

3. To respond to human need by loving service TEND

4. To seek to transform unjust structures of society TRANSFORM

5. To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation
and sustain and renew the life of the earth. TREASURE

They are often summarised in a succinct shorthand fashion, as:

Tell … Teach … Tend … Transform … Treasure

And those key terms help to focus the work of Congregations and people of faith in our current context.

In defence of the Pharisees: on humility and righteousness (Luke 18; Pentecost 20C)

The Gospel parable set for this coming Sunday is a parable which Jesus told about a Pharisee and a tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). This is one of the texts that is regularly used, in a most negative way, to berate the Pharisees for their self-righteousness and legalism. This feeds into an understanding of Jesus as a hardline critic of the Pharisees, regularly berating them for these deficiencies. That is a most unfortunate line of interpretation to take.

First, it is noteworthy that the Pharisees in Luke’s Gospel are regularly portrayed in ways that demonstrate a positive relationship with Jesus. Most strikingly, Jesus is found at table with Pharisees on a number of occasions: in the house of Simon, a Pharisee (7:36–50); by invitation of another Pharisee, in his house along with a lawyer, and scribes (11:37–54); again, in the house of a prominent Pharisee, with lawyers also present (14:1–24).

There is another occasion, when Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners (15:1–32), where the opening verses (15:1–2) infer the additional presence of Pharisees and scribes at the meal. Eating a meal together was a clear sign that positive and mutually respectful relationships existed between Jesus and some Pharisees, at least.

Pharisees also acts in friendly ways to Jesus when they come to him to warn him about Herod (13:31) or ask him to explain his understanding of the kingdom of God (14:20-21) or seek to quell the uproar being caused by the disciples of Jesus (19:39-40). Not all of the encounters that Jesus had with Pharisees were negative or confrontational.

The early movement of followers of Jesus included Pharisees (Acts 15:5 — and even, quite strikingly, some priests, in 6:7 !). Paul was one such Pharisee, as he declares that he had been raised as a Pharisee (Acts 23:6), and there is an interesting scene later in Acts where some Pharisees (in dispute with some Sadducees) actually stand in support of Paul (Acts 23:7-9).

So the relationship is not thoroughly antagonistic. Both Jesus and, later, Paul, did have robust discussions and disagreements with Pharisees, but neither of them wrote the Pharisees off as lost causes or doomed to perdition. We should not use Pharisee as a cipher for a self-righteous or hypocritical person who has no humility — accusations that could well have been made in the heat of an argument.

Second, this unfortunate negative line of interpretation concerning Pharisees is based on a gross misunderstanding of the Pharisees, their faith, and their activities. All too often, Pharisees are misrepresented and scapegoated by Christians (especially since the rise of anti Semitic theologies in Germany in the late 19th and early 20th centuries), using them as a foil for their own views of a more positive Christian faith.

So: what do we really know about the Pharisees?

The scribal Pharisees specialised in the interpretation of Torah and in the application of Torah to ensure that holiness was observed in daily living. In contrast to the Sadducees, the Pharisees were very popular amongst the ordinary Jewish folk. This may well have been because they undertook the highly significant task of showing how the Torah was relevant to the daily life of Jewish people.

The story of Ezra, told in Nehemiah 8, gives an example of this in practice, referring especially those who “helped the people to understand the law” (Neh 8:7). Whilst the priests upheld the Torah as the ultimate set of rules for operating the Temple, the Pharisees showed how the Torah could be applied to every aspect of daily life as a Jew.

Most Jews went to the Temple only rarely—and found it to be an expensive enterprise when they got there! But in seeking guidance for daily life, the people were greatly helped by those skilled interpreters of Torah, the scribes and the Pharisees. Josephus comments that the Pharisees were usually held in high regard by the ordinary people of the day.

Since nine out of every ten persons could not read, the importance of scribes—literate, educated, and sympathetic—could not be underestimated. Whilst the Pharisees clustered around towns in Judea, the scribes were to be found in the synagogues of villages throughout greater Israel, and indeed in any place where Jews were settled. Their task was to educate the people as to the ways of holiness that were commanded in the Torah. It was possible, they argued, to live as God’s holy people at every point of one’s life, quite apart from any pilgrimages made to the Temple in Jerusalem.

Over time, the Pharisees and scribes developed particular methods for interpreting the Torah; many of these methods are reflected within the New Testament, as it seems that Paul, each of the Gospel writers, and even Jesus himself, were familiar with such methods of interpretation. They were certainly people of faith, devoted to serving God in humility, and focussed on fostering a sense of righteousness (obedience to the way that God had instructed them) amongst their people.

Associated with this, the Pharisees and scribes devoted much time to verbal discussion of the written texts of Torah, probing the meaning of every law that was recorded in their scripture. These debates were remembered and passed on by word of mouth. Over time, the accumulated body of these oral discussions and debates was accorded a certain authority in its own right. Eventually, the claim was made that the oral teachings were of similar importance to the written text; the Pharisees were said to have had an “oral Torah” alongside the written Torah. Debate over this matter is reflected in texts such as Mark 7 and Matt 15.

So, just as Pharisees debated amongst themselves about how best to interpret the laws given in scripture, so too Jesus engaged in such debates and disputations with them as to how the laws should be interpreted and applied. He used precisely the methods and techniques that the Pharisees themselves employed, with questions, counter-argument, scripture citations, and analogies, for instance.

This form of engagement wasn’t an antagonistic dispute; it was just the vigorous style of such debates. Jesus wasn’t looking to dismiss the Pharisees, but to reach into the heart of each law that they were debating together. The debate was taking place to clarify how people were to be faithful to God, living according to the righteousness (or holiness) that God required.

Later, accounts of these oral debates between Jesus and Pharisees were written down in the Gospels that we have in Christian scripture. However, these debates were remembered and recorded in ways that seem to reflect the intensity of fervent debate that was apparently taking place, at that later time, between followers of Jesus, and authorities in the synagogues. They retained the vigorous manner of debates about Jewish Torah, but were set into a polemical context that highlighted the differences and sharpened the sense of argumentative antagonism.

Accordingly, it is reasonable to regard many of the accounts of Jesus in debate with the scribes and Pharisees (such as Luke 11:37-54 and Matt 23:1-36) as more reflective of the antagonism, conflict, and even hatred that had grown between these two groups.

That wasn’t the historical reality. But it came to be the way that the followers of Jesus after his lifetime (and after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE) most often remembered the Pharisees. And so the trajectory of the stereotype of the Pharisee began.

Both older academic Christian scholarship and popular Christian tradition today perpetuate the stereotype that the Judaism of the time of Jesus was a harsh, legalistic, rigid religion—precisely because of the claimed “hardness of heart” of the Pharisees in their debates with Jesus.

This stereotype was heightened by an unquestioning acceptance of the New Testament caricature of the Pharisees as hypocritical legalists who made heavy demands but had no soul commitment to their faith. It was claimed that they were the leaders of a static, dying religion.

This stereotype has been completely demolished in recent decades—both through the growing interaction between Christian and Jewish scholarship, and also through a more critical reading of the relevant primary texts. It has no place in our contemporary preaching.

In 2009, the Twelfth Assembly of my church (the Uniting Church in Australia) adopted a Statement on Jews and Judaism in which we resolved to:

acknowledge that many of the early Christian writings collected in the New Testament were written in a context of controversy and polemic between the Church and Synagogue;

not accept Christian teaching that is derogatory towards Jews and Judaism;

and encourage its members and councils to be vigilant in resisting antisemitism and anti-Judaism in church and society.

The full statement can be read at https://assembly.uca.org.au/resources/key-papers-reports/item/download/1022_7d707d6a8cd8a2fe2188af65d6f04548

I hope that those who are preaching on the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18, bear in mind these things as they prepare and deliver sermons this coming Sunday. Yes, Jesus criticises the particular Pharisee in this parable. No, this was not how Jesus viewed each and every Pharisee that he knew. Yes, Jesus was a friend of Pharisees and entered enthusiastically into robust debate with them. No, he was not intending to write off all Pharisees as pious, hypocritical, self-righteous legalists.

You can read about how the Uniting Church has sought to engage the Jewish Community in constructive dialogue for many years, now, at https://uniting.church/an-introduction-to-the-uca-jewish-dialogue/

and learn about an excellent resource it has produced entitled Light Eternal at https://assembly.uca.org.au/rof/rof-news/item/1986-light-eternal

On the UCA commitment to interfaith relations, see https://johntsquires.com/2019/05/04/friendship-in-the-presence-of-difference-a-gospel-call-in-a-world-of-intolerance-and-hatred/

Please Leave ?? No — Please Stay !!

There has been a lot of media interest in the recent declaration by the Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, concerning the way that some dioceses, a number of ministers, and many, many people of faith are grappling with our changed understandings of gender and sexuality, and how that relates to Christian faith.

It is a complex matter, with many nuances, that deserve careful consideration, and compassionate reflection.

The words of the Sydney Diocese leader, however, cast the situation in a clear black-and-white manner, with the stinger of a sharp command to those with whom he (and many in his Diocese) disagree: “please leave”.

The full set of words from this part of his speech is instructive: “My own view is that if people wish to change the doctrine of our Church, they should start a new church or join a church more aligned to their views – but do not ruin the Anglican Church by abandoning the plain teaching of Scripture. Please leave us.”

So sayeth the Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, the Rev. Dr Glenn Davies.

(A full account of his speech to the Anglican Synod is reported on the Sydney Diocese webpage at https://sydneyanglicans.net/news/guarding-the-faith-in-a-changing-world and in Eternity News at https://www.eternitynews.com.au/australia/please-leave-us-sydneys-anglican-archbishop-tells-progressive-christians/)

But there are a number of problems with what Dr Davies said.

The Archbishop distanced himself from “people who] wish to change the doctrine of our Church”. The first problem is, that doctrine is always changing. It was changing in the early decades of the church. It changed significantly in the various Reformations of the 16th century, under the leadership of Jan Huss, Martin Luther, Jean Calvin, Huldrych Zwingli, John Knox, and then the response of the Council of Trent in the Roman Catholic Church.

It changed in 1540, when Henry VIII of England sanctioned the complete destruction of shrines to saints, and further in 1542, when Henry dissolved monasteries across the country—actions which changed doctrines and led to the formation of the very church in which Glenn Davies was ordained and then consecrated!

It changed when, during the Enlightenment, theologians and scholars applied principles of rational thinking to scriptural texts and faith concerns. It continues to change in the postmodern world, as new discoveries and insights lead Christian leaders to bring new questions to faith issues, and to formulate beliefs in ways that connect with and make sense within the changing world.

In my own denomination, the Uniting Church in Australia, we recognise this when we recall the paragraph in our Basis of Union that affirms “the continuing witness and service”, not only of evangelists, prophets, and martyrs, but also of scholars; and which notes that as we engage with “literary, historical and scientific enquiry … [of] recent centuries”, we are able to develop “an informed faith” of relevance to the current times.

Doctrine is dynamic; it is always in a state of flux. Theology is transient; it is always developing. Church teaching is constantly evolving; it is never static.

(On my take on interpreting the classic creeds of the church, see https://johntsquires.com/2018/11/02/interpreting-the-creeds-in-a-later-age/; on how the Uniting Church envisages the factors involved in this process, see https://johntsquires.com/2018/07/30/seeking-an-informed-faith/)

Second, the Archbishop referred to “the plain teaching of Scripture”. The second problem, then is that scripture does not actually have a plain teaching. There are words, written in the Bible, which need to be interpreted, if they are to be understood and applied to contemporary life. There is no plain and simple teaching in these words; they are words which always need interpretation.

This interpretation starts with the choice of text. We do not have an “original version”; we have copies of copies, some complete, many fragmented. There are always options to consider–and we all rely on experts in this matter. Then comes the matter of language. Biblical texts were written in languages other than English. We English-speakers are reliant on the careful work of translators and scholars, seeking to render the phrases of Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek, into contemporary English. There are already multiple interpretive decisions that have been made for us, in our English Bibles.

Then, interpretation needs to take into account the differences in culture that exist, between the patriarchal, honour-shame cultures of antiquity, and the current state of play within (in our case) contemporary Australian society. We can’t just assume that something from an ancient culture “makes sense” in our contemporary culture, let alone that it can be “directly applied” into our context. There are interpretive decisions to be made.

(I have written about this dimension at https://johntsquires.com/2018/12/07/to-articulate-faith-contextually/)

The process of interpretation also needs to bear in mind how the usage of particular words and ideas has changed over time. Awful, for instance, once had a very positive sense, “full full of awe or admiration”, whilst nice had an earlier sense of “silly, foolish”. Guy (from the historical British figure Guy Fawkes) had an earlier sense of a frightening figure, not the generalised reference to men that it has today, whilst meat in earlier centuries was a catch-all term referring to food in general. (And, most pertinent to the particular issue at hand, “gay” once had a very different point of reference in English!)

These kinds of shifts in usage are also found in terms that appear in the Bible, especially in translations from some centuries ago. We need to factor that in to our interpretation.

And then, reading and interpretation of the Bible involves application, discerning how and in what ways a biblical passage is relevant for us today. That means knowing what our situation is as well as what we hear in the biblical text, and connecting the two. It is not simple or straightforward.

In an earlier interview about his view of matters of sexuality (and other issues), Dr Davies referred disparagingly to “a virus in the national church, caused by not teaching properly the word of God” (see https://www.thepastorsheart.net/podcast/2019/9/17/archbishop-davies-on-public-christian-leadership).

That’s an unfair and unhelpfully polemical characterisation of what is a complex and nuanced matter—reading biblical passages about sexuality in contemporary society. The biblical texts about sexual relationships involving people of the same gender are not simple and self-evident prohibitions on such behaviour, and should not be read as such.

Elizabeth and I have contributed a discussion of this matter which, I believe, offers more constructive lines of understanding; see https://johntsquires.com/2018/07/30/marrying-same-gender-people-a-biblical-rationale/ as well as https://johntsquires.com/2019/06/26/human-sexuality-and-the-bible/ and https://www.unitingnetworkaustralia.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/02-Human-Sexuality-in-Biblical-Perspectives.pdf.

(More generally, see https://johntsquires.com/2018/07/30/the-word-of-god-scripture-and-jesus-christ/)

Third, the Archbishop—quite strikingly—has urged certain people to leave the Anglican Church. I believe that advocating that people leave one church to start another church is not a helpful activity. Anglicans, like other mainstream denominations, have a commitment to unity in the church. So, the third problem is a lack of commitment to the unity of the church.

That’s quite an amazing position for a leader in a denomination which affirms that it is, indeed, an integral part of the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church—and which is universally recognised by other denominations as an integral part of that Church.

Each Sunday, in Anglican churches around Australia (and beyond), faithful people affirm, “I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.” That’s a line in the Nicene Creed. And those Anglicans are joined by many Roman Catholics, members of the many Orthodox churches, and quite a number of folk in the various Protestant churches, to say these words together on regular (even weekly) occasions. Across the denominations, there is a commitment to unity.

Not in the Sydney Anglican Diocese, however. The Archbishop’s invitation to those who see things differently from him to leave the church and form their own branch is fracturing the unity of the church even more by this narrow, sectarian dogmatism.

Even his own colleagues, it seems, have recognised that Dr Davies has crossed a line with his rhetoric in recent days (see https://www.theage.com.au/national/even-conservative-rectors-shuddered-why-sydney-archbishop-s-words-hurt-20191018-p531ye.html). Such rhetoric serves only to exacerbate differences and intensify hurt. Is that really being faithful to the office into which he has been called?

The worldwide leader of the Anglican Communion, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Most Revd Justin Welby, has affirmed that “reconciliation is the hallmark of Anglicanism, the heart of the gospel and a life to which we are all called” (see https://www.anglicancommunion.org/mission/reconciliation.aspx).

Archbishop Welby is promoting through the Anglican Communion a resource entitled Living Reconciliation, which “offers a vision of Church marked by honesty, truthfulness and love … [and] applies the teaching of the Gospel at precisely the point where we need it most today” (see http://living-reconciliation.org/thebook/).

Is the Archbishop of Sydney aware of just how contrary his words are, to the principles of reconciliation and the commitment to an honest, loving church that is being championed by the Archbishop of Canterbury?

Finally, the Archbishop of Sydney is quoted as imploring those with whom he disagrees: do not ruin the Anglican Church. The fourth problem I see is that exploring and developing ideas is not a process of ruination.

Rather, the exploration of ideas and the development of thought is a constructive process that offers a gift to the church at large: the gift of an ever-evolving, ever-refining articulation of beliefs in ways that resonate with life in the contemporary age. Questions, provocations, redefinitions, and developments in thinking and believing are wonderful gifts!

I wouldn’t characterise the process as one of causing ruin. Rather, I would celebrate it and affirm the importance of this process. The problem, it seems to me, is that if you really believe that you have The Truth, then you are impelled to convince others of that Truth. But if you believe you are called to Love others, then you will listen and learn.

Sadly, the Archbishop has demonstrated this stark difference: when we prioritise Truth, we inform, lecture, admonish, even berate; whereas when we prioritise Love, we enter into relationships, affirm, explore, nourish, question, rethink, and develop in community with each other. Quite a different ethos. Quite a different result.

Please Leave? No—Please Stay! To the people addressed by Dr Davies, I say: Please stay in the Christian church and help us to be faithful to the Gospel. Please stay in the Christian church and help us to change in ways that are positive and life-giving. Please stay and gift your distinctive contribution to the life of the church in your locality and beyond.

And to the Archbishop, if he really is committed to the process of leaving, I say: you please leave. Please leave behind homophobic fear and discriminatory rhetoric. Please leave behind your insistence on conformity to your particular dogmatic assertions. Please leave behind your criticisms of those who happen to be born different from you. That’s what I would like you to leave.

Unjust judge, shameless widow (Luke 18; Pentecost 19C)

Jesus told many parables. The kingdom of God was the primary theme of many of these parables. Quite a number of his parables are found only in the “orderly account of the things that have been fulfilled among us”— the document which we know as the Gospel according to Luke. We have been hearing a number of these this year, as the lectionary has taken us through this Gospel: the lost coin, the lost sheep, the lost (prodigal) son and the lost (elder) son; the Good Samaritan, the rich man who built barns, the man planning to build a tower and the king planning to go to war.

In the parables of Jesus which are found only in Luke’s Gospel, we meet a variety of upper-class people: a rich man who built larger barns for his produce, a tower builder and a king at war, a rich father of two sons, a steward of a wealthy man, a rich man who dressed in purple and feasted daily, a farmer with slaves and a prestigious and powerful judge. In a number of these parables, the way that Jesus tells the story raises challenges for such people: they are called to account for the benefits and blessing s that they enjoy in their lives.

The parable set as the Gospel passage for this coming Sunday (Luke 18:1-8) is a case in point: the prestigious and powerful judge is called to account for the way he does (and does not) dispense justice. Alongside the judge, the widow is held up as a positive role model, because of the way she continues to raise the difficult questions with the judge.

This is regularly understood to be a parable about persistence, with the widow as the key figure. Don’t give up! Keep on pressing the point! Knock on the door of that judge, and keep knocking, until he rises from his sleep and opens the door to you. Don’t let the authorities ignore you or marginalise you. Make a noise! Rouse the sleepers! Agitate! Work to see your demands brought to fruition!

Now, a standard way of interpreting parables is to allegorise them. That means, drawing clear lines of connection between the characters in the story, and people in real life. Classically, the judge who was being disturbed by the persistent widow, knocking on his door, perhaps crying out in the dead of night, this judge is usually equated with God. The persistent widow, by contrast, is equated with faithful people, praying to God.

If that is done, then we are provided a most disturbing picture of God. Do we really see God as unjust, oblivious to the cries of need around him, asleep in bed as the needs of the world grow larger and more pressing? It is not, I would suggest, how people of faith really conceive of God.

What about turning this interpretation on its head? Even though the text suggests that we interpret the judge as a symbol,for God, that isn’t the end of the matter. If the text is about prayer, then it is about the two-way interaction that happens when we pray. Prayer is as much about what we say to God, as it is about what God says to us, what we hear when we pray, what is pressed upon us from our close and intimate engagement with our Creator.

So, if we flip things in the parable—what about if we see the judge as a symbol of systems in our human society? Like our systems often become, the judge was inflexible, aloof, resistant to interference, opposed to alteration. And why not see the woman as a picture of God? Persistent, incessant, calling out the injustices of our society, raising a ruckus when things are unfair or inequitable.

Read like this, the parable is about the way that God continues to press on us, challenging us, confronting us, pushing us to grow in our discipleship and deepen in our faith.

Finally, there is one more aspect of this parable that I want to raise. If we explore the word used to describe the widow in the original Greek of this Gospel, the word that is usually translated as “persistent”, we will find that the original Greek is more accurately rendered as “shameless”. How about that picture of God—the one who is utterly shameless–shamelessly persistent in making demands of us?

Widows in ancient Hebrew society were in a perilous position. In a strongly patriarchal society, the patronage of a man was vital: a man as husband and provider, a man as father and protector, a man as the household head. Children without fathers—orphans—as well as women without husbands—widows—were in equally perilous situations. They were vulnerable people, often at risk of being mistreated and exploited, of being pushed to the edge of society and being forgotten.

In our time, we require those in leadership in the church to have obtained a Working With Vulnerable People card, to signal that they are aware of the power imbalances present in situations where they minister. In the ancient world, no such system existed; but we do find in the Hebrew Scriptures that there are regular exhortations and instructions to the people to take care of widows and orphans, such as the command, “you shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child” (Exod 22:22), or the instruction to gather a tithe of produce and invite “the Levite, the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widow to come and eat and be filled” (Deut 14:28–29), or the prophetic decree, “do not oppress the sojourner, the fatherless, or the widow” (Jer 7:5), and then in the New Testament true religion is defined as being “to care for orphans and widows in their distress” (James 1:27). Even in ancient society, vulnerable people needed protection.

The judge ought to have taken special care of the widow, if he had been paying attention to his scriptural teachings; but he shuts her out, literally and metaphorically, and wishes to have nothing to do with her. The widow needs to represent herself; there seems to be no male relative to speak for her in the male-dominated court. She needs to make multiple attempts to engage with the judge; she has no resources to offer a bribe which would ensure a swift hearing. And the woman appears to have suffered an injustice; she pleads, “grant me justice against my opponent”.

So the widow persists. She steps out of the submissive pattern of behaviour that is expected of her, the culture required women to keep shame, by remaining in the private sphere, and not to claim honour, by acting in the public sphere. This widow steps out of that private sphere, into public life, and takes responsibility for her own wellbeing, no longer dependant on a man to advocate for her. By doing this, she claims her own portion of honour, and so acts with no shame. She is shameless.

In this way of reading the parable, the widow acts in precisely the way that Lady Wisdom is portrayed in Proverbs 8:1-4. She, a female, is on the public arena of ancient Israel: On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries out. These locations were where men were expected to be active, and the gates to the town were the places where men gathered to discuss Torah and determine cases brought to them as judges.

For a woman to be there, and to be vocally active in such a public way, was a breach of the honour-shame code. Women speaking out in public were acting in a way that challenged the honour of the men who alone “rightly” belonged there. They did not adhere to the posture and action of shame that they were required to demonstrate, as the flip side of honour. They were acting in a way that demonstrated they were shameless.

The widow, pressing the point with the judge, is not only persistent, but—like Lady Wisdom, like God as we listen to and engage with God—utterly shameless. She demonstrates intense, ongoing, persistence. How might she be a model for us to emulate in our discipleship?

What does it mean to say that the Bible is inspired? (2 Tim 3:16; Pentecost 19C)

How many times have you heard it said, “the Bible is the inspired Word of God” ? Have you ever thought about what this phrase actually means ? Paul Achtemeier, in his book The Inspiration of Scripture, has indicated the problems that are inherent in using the terminology of “inspiration” loosely. He points to issues related to the use (or abuse) of this term. The matter is not quite as simple as it first appears.

The traditional answer to the question of what this statement means, is to assert (quite correctly) that the Bible uses this concept of inspiration to define itself. However, we need to be careful in simply lifting out one word (this is all it is, even in Greek!) and making it the lynchpin of a massive argument. The claim that “God said it; I believe it; that settles it” is ultimately an inadequate answer if we are truly seeking understanding of our faith.

What, then, is the biblical evidence for the claim of inspiration? 2 Timothy 3:16 is generally regarded as the “proof text” for this topic, with the claim being made that all scripture is inspired. This verse appears in the passage set for reading in churches this coming Sunday, as the epistle reading in the Revised Common Lectionary.

However, even this verse must be viewed in context. It cannot readily be extracted from its context and pressed into service as an abstract definition; we cannot assume that it is the fundamental principle held by all biblical writers, as no other writers of other biblical books give any indication that it was adhered to in this way. We should note a number of aspects of this verse which caution us against making it a fundamental universal principle which applies equally in every case.

Is this the last word on the matter? Some interpreters have argued that the whole of 2 Timothy should be seen as a last testament of Paul — an attempt to set out his final thoughts in a clear, systematic, programmatic manner, as his last will and testament for his followers. However, caution is again required at this point.

The authenticity of 2 Timothy is debated. Some scholars claim that it was not written by Paul, others say that he dictated it to a secretary, while yet others argue that it does contain fragments of material written by Paul, which are placed within a larger framework of a whole letter by another writer. (See https://johntsquires.com/2019/10/01/in-the-name-of-the-apostle/)

Whatever the origin of the letter, it is clear that it was written in a specific context; it is by no means an attempt to set out basic principles, but rather applies such principles to a given situation.

Inspired. First, the Greek word translated “inspired” is theopneustos, which literally means, “breathed by God”. This was not a common term in the first century CE; many other similar terms were available prior to the New Testament to describe the activity of inspiration. So the use of this term is not in itself a clear-cut way of proposing a “doctrine of inspiration” in first century terms.

Useful. Further, we should note that in 2 Timothy 3:16 the definition which is given is functional, not ontological that is to say, it identifies the effect scripture has, and does not define the essence of scripture in and of itself. The emphasis is placed on the fact that scripture is “useful” or “profitable”. Inspiration, so it seems, does not reside in the writings themselves, nor in the writer, but results from the process of using (or applying) scripture.

Scripture. A further issue concerns the word graphe, usually translated as “scripture”. This word literally means “writing”, and normally it applies to Old Testament books. At the time of writing 2 Timothy, it could not yet apply to the New Testament in a direct manner, since the complete New Testament was not yet formed.

In his authentic writings Paul himself shows little awareness of the Gospels or of Gospel traditions; and there is no evidence for the collection of Paul’s letters until early in the second century CE. By contrast, Paul regularly cites scriptures from his own tradition, the Hebrew scriptures, and it is clear that he considers these works to be important guides for living by faith. Romans, Galatians, and both letters to the Corinthians contain numerous such instances.

(There are explicit citations of Hebrew scriptures at two places in the Pastoral Epistles: 1 Tim 5:17-20, quoting Deut 25:4 and alluding to Deut 19:5, and 2 Tim 2:19, citing Num 16:5 and Isa 26:13.)

Thus, this statement was originally NOT about the whole of the Bible; it is only by inference that we can refer it to the whole of the Bible.

Useful for … Finally, let us note the diversity of functions here attributed to inspired writings: they can be used for teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness. Thus, a richness of meaning is perceived within scripture, indicating the diversity of ways of applying scripture. There is no single function which is foundational; nor does this verse set out all the functions of scripture (the Psalms, for example, function in a number of different ways — for praise, lament, celebration, petition, confession, remembrance, and so on).

Thus, 2 Timothy 3:16 itself does not offer a full and satisfactory answer to the question, what does it mean to say that the Bible is inspired? It offers one insight, but it needs to be balanced against others. It is not the last word on the matter.

Certainly, it is clear that this passage can refer only to the Hebrew scriptures, for the New Testament as we know it was not yet formed, even in the early decades of the second century. And it points towards a functional understanding of scripture, providing no basis for any claims about the divinely-inspired and absolutely authoritative nature of the books of the Bible.

https://johntsquires.com/2019/10/07/rightly-explaining-the-word-of-truth-2-tim-215/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/06/17/harness-the-passion-but-restrain-the-rhetoric-musing-on-the-role-model-which-paul-offers-in-galatians/

https://johntsquires.com/2018/11/17/let-your-gentleness-be-known-to-everyone/

Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner? (Luke 17; Pentecost 18C)

This year, we have been following the story of Jesus as it is offered to us by the author of the orderly account of the things that have been fulfilled among us–the document which we know as the Gospel according to Luke. (see https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/)

This account of the ministry of Jesus gives a prominent place to the journey that Jesus undertook, along with his disciples, from his home region in Galilee, to the capital city of Jerusalem. The journey, in Mark’s Gospel, is all over in just a few verses. You can read about it in Mark 10—and look carefully, it is over pretty quickly!

In Luke’s account, this journey, from Galilee in the north to Jerusalem in the south, starts on chapter 9 and continues right through until chapter 19: that’s 40% of the whole story! The journey gets underway when Luke notes that, at a crucial point during his ministry in Galilee, Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem (9:51). This turn of phrase is prophetic term (found often in Ezekiel; see 4:3,7, 6:2, 14:8, 15:7, 21:2, 25:2, 28:21) which indicates his firm commitment to this pathway, but also indicates the judgement that will take place through this visit.

But significantly, the first thing that Jesus does on this journey is gather a larger group of his followers, seventy such disciples (or in some versions, seventy–two), to begin in the role that will later consume their lives. He sends them out to proclaim the central message that the kingdom of God has come near (10:1–12; cf. 9:2).

Quite significantly, when the seventy are sent out, they are in the region of Samaria (9:51-62). The Samaritans were difficult customers; James and John actually wanted Jesus to invoke the wrath of God and consume them (9:54). Jesus, by contrast, refuses to do this (9:55) and charges the seventy to preach a message peace to the Samaritans (10:5) and to declare the good news, that God’s kingdom is right there, in midst of them (10:9,11; cf. 9:2).

It is noteworthy, then, that after chapter 10, the next time that Luke reports an actual location for Jesus and his disciples, is in the passage set for our reading this week, in chapter 17. And that location, strangely enough, is no different from the starting point of the journey. Yes, after seven long chapters of travelling, Jesus and his disciples are still up north: On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee, Luke reports (17:11).

In this story, Jesus heals a group of ten lepers. They, of course, are jubilant at being healed, no longer outcasts, but restored to health and reconnected with family and friends. However, as Luke reports, only one of these ten lepers had the grace, and the gratitude, to return to Jesus and thank him for what he had done to them all.

According to Luke, ‘one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner? (17:15-18).

Only one; and that one, a Samaritan—a member of the despised northern tribe, the people who had long been at loggerheads with their southern neighbours in Judea, as well as with the people in Galilee, from where Jesus and a number of his first followers came.

These two stories, both set in and around Samaria, the enemy territory (as it were), set out some significant aspects of the ministry of Jesus.

On the way, Luke reports on the teachings and healings of Jesus and his encounters and debates with various people. Many of these reports are drawn from a special source that only Luke seemed to know, as well as another source known as ‘Q’, which provides material for both Luke and Matthew. So the journey, over ten chapters in Luke, provides the context for a rich selection of teaching and instruction at depth.

When Jesus sets his face towards the city to bring God’s judgement upon it (Luke 9:51), he knows what the cost will be for himself, personally. He is clear that he must travel with that end in view (13:33). When he enters the city, he comes as the messenger of divine judgement (19:44); the visitation of God is a biblical phrase for executing diving judgement. Along the way, he encounters opposition and criticism.

That started with the Samaritans, at the end of chapter 9, reflected in the antagonistic words of James and John, who wanted Jesus to pronounce judgement on them. At the start of the journey, the relationship is one of opponents. Jews and Samaritans do not get on.

But here, in chapter 17, as the journey has been underway for quite some time, the relationship between Jesus and his followers, and the Samaritans, has been transformed. Indeed, from amongst all ten of those keepers who were healed, only one returned to give thanks—and that one was a Samaritan! And perhaps this one solitary Samaritan might well signal the turnaround in understanding about Jesus.

No longer an opponent. No longer an enemy. Now, a friend. Now, a companion along the way. The turnaround is remarkable.

And yet—let us also remember that, back there are the start of the journey, in the early days, Jesus was already signalling this message. Immediately after the seventy had returned from their mission of proclaiming the kingdom, Jesus engaged in a debate with a scribe, a teacher of the Law. What must I do to inherit eternal life? was the scribe’s question. Love God, and love Neighbour, was the reply from Jesus, drawing directly from the very Law that the scribe knew and taught.

Who is my neighbour? the scribe then asked. And Jesus, typically, replied by telling a story. It’s a story reported only in Luke’s Gospel. Thank goodness for Luke, and for his special sources! It is the story that reveals who the neighbour actually is—yes, the neighbour is a Samaritan. The story is the parable of the Good Samaritan.

So, for Jesus, it is clear, from early in the journey, through until towards the ends of the journey. He reaches out, offering a hand of friendship, inviting a relationship of acceptance, to the traditional enemies—the Samaritans.

And even more strikingly, if we attend to the geography that Luke provides us, all of the journey thus far has been in or around or near to Samaria. Not in Galilee, the home territory of Jesus. Not in Judea, in the area around Jerusalem, the religious centre and economic capital of that region, he has been teaching and healing, preaching and telling parables, amongst the Samaritans—those very outsiders, in the traditional way of viewing things.

This returning, healed leper, was a Samaritan—an outsider, a foreigner, in the traditional understanding of the time. And yet, Jesus not only heals him, but commends him: your faith has made you well, he says to the Samaritan—as he had earlier said to the sinful woman who anointed his feet (7:50), and the haemmhoraging woman who touched the fringe of his clothes (8:48), and as he will subsequently say to the persistent widow (18:8) and the blind beggar outside Jericho (18:48), just before he finally enters Jerusalem.

And these figures, all outcasts because of their circumstances, were welcomed and affirmed by Jesus. They are the great examples of faith, in this Gospel! They are the ones whom he praises! Jesus demonstrates a gracious openness to those whom society regarded as unclean, despised, outcast.

Indeed, as Luke tells the story of Jesus, and then stretches it out to tell the story of the early church, in the book of Acts, we encounter, not only this foreigner, the healed Samaritan leper, but a number of other foreigners, whom Jesus accepts, and affirms. For instance, early in his ministry, he tells the old story of Naaman the Syrian, another foreigner, another leper, who was healed, and served as an example of faith (Luke 4; and at a key point in the second volume, Acts, we encounter the story of yet another foreigner, the centurion Cornelius, who becomes the first Gentile to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 10).

So Naaman and Cornelius stand, with the anonymous Samaritan leper, as key signals for this central truth in the message and the practice of Jesus: Grace is offered openly, abundantly, to those who would be regarded by tradition as being beyond the pale. The Gospel, the good news, the message of the kingdom of God, is a message that opens out, that stretches out to reach beyond the traditional limitations of understanding, with an invitation shaped by gracious openness.

https://johntsquires.com/2019/08/26/disreputable-outsiders-invited-inside-parables-in-luke-14/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/02/05/costly-discipleship-according-to-luke/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/an-orderly-account-a-quick-guide-to-luke-and-acts/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/02/19/the-beloved-physician-the-lover-of-god-and-loving-our-enemies-luke-6/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/17/the-death-resurrection-and-ascension-of-jesus-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/the-cross-cultural-nature-of-the-early-jesus-movement/

https://johntsquires.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/the-calling-of-saul-and-the-turn-to-the-gentiles-modelling-the-missional-imperative-acts-8-12/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/05/22/jesus-and-his-followers-at-table-in-lukes-orderly-account/

https://johntsquires.com/2019/07/02/from-learners-to-leaders-deepening-discipleship-in-lukes-orderly-account/

Rightly explaining the word of truth (2 Tim 2:15; Pentecost 18C)

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved by him, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly explaining the word of truth. So writes Paul to his “beloved child”, Timothy, in the second letter that we have addressed to this co-worker.

(On the reasons why this letter may well not have been written by the apostle Paul himself, but by one of his followers after Paul’s lifetime, see https://johntsquires.com/2019/10/01/in-the-name-of-the-apostle/)

The letter presents a scenario that sees Paul in prison (1:8; 2:9), in contact with a group otherwise unknown from his letters—Eubulus, Pudens, Linus and Claudia (4:21). As Paul was previously in Corinth and Miletus (4:20) and is in Rome as he writes (1:17), the letter itself suggests a time near the end of his life. He writes, we are led to believe, as a mature believer, imparting wisdom to a younger co-worker.

This assumption is supported by some of the imagery used, with Paul describing his life as “poured out as a libation” (4:6) and stating that he has “fought the good fight” (4:7). We know virtually nothing of this period from Acts; the last description of Paul that we have in Acts (28:30–31) is generalized and non-specific, so we can’t cross-check with anything there.

This letter, like 1 Timothy and Titus, gives indication of disagreement and conflict within the early Christian communities, with varied understandings of faith being present in the place where the recipient of the letter is based.

The opponents envisaged in this letter are described largely with reference to their verbal activity: they utter “profane chatter” (2:16), their “talk spreads like gangrene” (2:17), they engage in “wrangling over words” (2:14) and “stupid and senseless controversies” (2:23); they “captivate silly women” (3:6) and their “myths” are listened to by people with “itching ears” (4:3–4). The author certainly possesses a vivid vocabulary!

The author contends that these opponents are “people of corrupt mind and counterfeit faith” who oppose the truth (3:8), “wicked people and imposters” who deceive others (3:13); they have been “ensnared by the devil” (2:26). The long list of vices (3:2–5) might also be inferred as applying to these people. The rhetoric is aggressively antagonistic.

The one specific identifying mark of these people who have “swerved from the truth” is their assertion that “the resurrection has already taken place” (2:18). Against this, the author refers to the future appearance of Jesus (4:1, using the Greek word epiphaneia, most unusually for Paul). There is also a quotation of scripture to refute the heresy (2:19, citing Num 16:5 and Isa 26:13).

Paul offers clear guidance to Timothy as to how he is to deal with such opponents. He provides Timothy with short, concise summaries of the faith that they share (2:11-13; see also 1 Tim 2:5-6 and 3:16) and advises, Remind them of this, and warn them before God that they are to avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening. So Paul instructs Timothy, whom he charges to be an apologist (one who contends verbally, and vigorously, for the faith).

The apologetic that Timothy is to exhibit is succinctly expressed in the excerpt from the letter set in the lectionary as this Sunday’s epistle reading; Timothy is to rightly explain the word of truth (2:15).

This letter shares an apologetic quality with the first letter to Timothy, in its concern for “godliness” (2 Tim 3:5), “the truth” (2 Tim 2:18, 25; 3:7, 8; 4:4) and “the faith” (2 Tim 1:13; 2:18; 4:7). It provides various indications of the content of this faith: an epitome in three short clauses (2:8), a more discursive exposition of “the gospel” in poetic form (1:8–10) and a five-line hymn (2:11–13), introduced as yet another “sure saying” (2:11).

Paul, the nominal author of this letter, is set forth as a model for Timothy; he is described as having been “appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher” (1:11) who provides “the standard of sound teaching” (1:13).

This “sound teaching” is entrusted to Timothy (1:12), who is exhorted to “guard the good treasure entrusted to you” (1:14). That’s the “word of truth”, direct from Paul. This word, in turn, is to be entrusted to “faithful people” (2:2) who in turn become teachers. So the letter clearly explains the way in which “the faith” is to be passed on from teacher to associate to local leaders. Paul’s authentic letters do not emphasise this line of authority in the same fashion.

In his calling as a teacher, Paul has encountered suffering (1:12; 3:11), but he has placed his trust in Christ (1:12) and Christ has strengthened him (4:17). According to this pattern, Timothy ought then expect to suffer (2:3; 3:12) and should stand “strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2:1).

The imagery used to explain the leadership role entrusted to him refers to the soldier (2:3–4), the athlete (2:5) and the farmer (2:6); these images are consistent with the rhetoric of self-defence which Paul employs (1 Cor 3:8–9; 9:7, 10, 24–25). By contrast, the reference to household utensils (2:20–21) runs counter to the way Paul used similar imagery (“we have this treasure in clay jars”, 2 Cor 4:7).

The author of this letter expresses a firm confidence that he has gained “the crown of righteousness” (4:8) in his eternal destiny. For Paul to write this would be unusual, as he elsewhere uses this imagery to describe other people (not his own destiny) as his crown (the Philippians, Phil 4:1; the Thessalonians, 1 Thess 2:19–20).

As the letter draws to a close, the author asserts that “the Lord will rescue me…and save me” (4:18). This heavenly rescue, assured for Paul, is promised also to those who faithfully exercise their ministry; Timothy, and other leaders, will find themselves in the company of Paul, in the heavenly kingdom (4:8). It is noteworthy that Paul regularly expresses hope in his future fate, without claiming clear certainty about it (Rom 5:1–2; 8:24–25; 1 Cor 9:10; 2 Cor 1:9–10; Gal 5:5).

It is doubtful, to me, that this element of the letter reflects Paul’s regular way of thinking. My reading of Paul’s letters is that he has much more of a concern for the present realities of life, and how the Gospel is at work in the present, than with the promise of a future off in the distance. He does not dismiss the future; but his energy and passion is oriented towards living by faith in the present.

The letter provokes us to ponder what it is that we regard as essential to the word of truth, how we go about rightly explaining that word of truth, so that others will be grasped by the good news and feel welcomed and affirmed within the community of faith.

https://johntsquires.com/2019/06/17/harness-the-passion-but-restrain-the-rhetoric-musing-on-the-role-model-which-paul-offers-in-galatians/

https://johntsquires.com/2018/11/17/let-your-gentleness-be-known-to-everyone/

In the name of the apostle … (2 Timothy, Pentecost 17C to 21C)

In this latter part of the season after Pentecost, in Year C, the Revised Common Lectionary is taking us through a tour of a number of letters attributed to Paul—which most likely, for various reasons, were not actually written by Paul himself. We’ve read a couple of excerpts from 1 Timothy and launch into 2 Timothy this coming Sunday, after which we move on to 2 Thessalonians.

Many scholars consider that the apostle Paul did not actually wrote any of these letters (along with some others also attributed to Paul—Titus, Ephesians, and perhaps even Colossians). They have been able to come to this view because of what is known about the widespread practice, in the ancient world, of circulating letters and other documents in the name of an eminent person from an earlier age—a great scholar, or philosopher, or religious leader, or teacher. This was done by a writer who wished to “borrow” the authority of the older figure, believing that this would give greater weight to the views and teachings included in their work.

The suggestion is that members of the church in the later decades of the first century did this, using the name of Paul, because they regarded him as a teacher of note and an apostle of the church. There were already many works like this in Jewish circles, and a number amongst the gentiles also; so this was a well-known practice. And the ancient world did not have the strict laws of copyright and intellectual property which characterise the twenty-first century!

1 and 2 Timothy are two of the three letters written in the name of Paul which are addressed to two individuals whom Paul valued as co-workers and employed as ambassadors to his churches—Timothy and Titus. The letters are commonly referred to as the Pastoral Epistles because, it is felt, they are concerned almost entirely with matters internal to the structure and governance of the churches.

Whilst Paul’s authentic letters reflect the dynamic nature of the community of faith, these letters reflect a move towards a more developed organisational structure. They point towards the institutionalised church of the second century and beyond, in which the way of Jesus would become determined by the authority of the apostle and his local representative, the bishop.

Each of these letters is addressed to a fellow-worker of Paul who is known from other references in Paul’s authentic letters. Titus accompanied Paul and Barnabas to Jerusalem (Gal 2:1, 3) and was a fellow-worker with Paul in ministry to the Corinthians (2 Cor 2:13; 7:6, 13–15; 8:6, 16, 23; 12:18).

Timothy also accompanied Paul as “co-worker” (Rom 16:21) and fellow- preacher (2 Cor 1:19) and was a regular intermediary between Paul and believers in Thessalonica (1 Thess 3:1–6), Corinth (1 Cor 4:17; 16:10) and Philippi (Phil 2:19–24). Timothy is described as the co-writer, with Paul, of three authentic letters (2 Cor 1:1; Phil 1:1; 1 Thess 1:1) as well as two debated letters (Col 1:1; 2 Thess 1:1). In Acts, he appears regularly as an associate of Paul (Acts 16:1–2, 14–15; 17:5; 19:22; 20:5).

Each letter begins with a familiar assertion that it was written by Paul, but modern scholars have identified various doubts about this claim. Indeed, strong arguments can be advanced for dating these three letters after the lifetime of Paul. Clearly, these letters were written by someone with good knowledge of Paul and his teachings.

Yet the format of the letters and the distinctive vocabulary used throws doubt on the claim that Paul was the author. Whilst they each have a traditional framework for a letter, the body of the letter often reads more like a sermon or a moral treatise.

Over one third of the words found in these three letters are not found in the authentic letters of Paul. Many words found frequently in the authentic letters do not appear anywhere in these three letters.

In addition, the situations addressed, the theology of the letters and the ecclesial structures envisaged reflect many differences between each of these three letters and the seven authentic letters of Paul.

Together, all of these elements point to the conclusion that the author wrote these letters after the lifetime of Paul. He reaches back in time to the figure of Paul in order to validate the teachings given to the community of faith in his own time. The figures of Timothy and Titus represent the leaders in the communities of faith in this later period.

As we hear excerpts from the Pastoral Epistles in worship, and reflect on what they are saying to us today, we might ask:

How important is it, for you, to affirm that Paul himself wrote each of these letters?

Can you be comfortable with the idea that a follower of Paul wrote them in his name?

What message about the life of the church comes through these letters?

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