Suffering with Him

Jesus enters the world as we know it as it truly is. He enters a very human world, a world with human evil, human foolishness, and human suffering. He did not enter a sanitary world, or even a sanitized community of believers. If you've ever read the gospels, it's clear that the people of God and the land in the first century were both thoroughly polluted and in need of cleansing. Jesus came into that world--the world of evil, foolishness, and suffering as we still know it today. 

By entering this world, Jesus was willing to get his hands dirty in the muck and filth of humanity, and even suffer at the hands of the wicked. His suffering then led to scandal, exile, and death. From this paradigm, spokesmen for the Christian cause sometimes say that Jesus is connected with all of humanity's suffering, and that the incarnation gives meaning and purpose to "our" suffering. 

This is what I want to comment about.

I want to make very clear from the outset what Jesus did not do in making this "connection". What he did not do was suffer for the sake of suffering itself, or welcome scandals for the sake of being associated with the scandalous. He suffered because he preached repentance from sin and faith toward God in a world so perverse and lawless that God's very own people would crucify him for it. Jesus was scandalized because he exhorted his own people to forsake the perverse traditions of that generation and of their fathers. He was scandalized because he preached against the moral relativism of his generation, and led people to embrace the singular way of truth, justice, mercy, and peace. 

It is purported that Jesus wasn't afraid to hang out with the scandalous. Jesus was willing to "connect" with prostitutes and tax collectors and sinners. From this, allegedly, we learn that we who also live scandalous lives have this same connection with Jesus, because that's what his ministry was all about: connecting with the scandalous. He even suffered the shame of a scandalous life and death in order to show the world how purposeful and meaningful "our suffering" is.

Depending on what one means by that, that could be complete ethical nonsense.

Jesus' solidarity was not with fools or suffering-people in general, but rather the faithful first century remnant of his disciples who were willing to follow him and suffer for righteousness' sake, for the sake of the truth spoken by his prophets and just-ones. His solidarity is with those who turn away from evil and foolishness, and turn toward Him, never looking back. His solidarity is with those who have "washed their robes so that they may have the right to the tree of life and that they may enter the city by the gates" (Rev. 22:14). Their robes were bloody, and needed to be washed, because they were willing to be martyrs for the sake of the truth spoken by Jesus' prophets and just-ones. Their robes were spotted by the sins and injustice of others who hated Christ and his following of disciples. If our lives as Christians remain scandalous for the sake of actual injustice and falsehood and foolishness and evil, Jesus will say to us on the day we bow before his throne, "Outside with the sexually immoral and murderers and adulterers, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood" (Rev. 22:15). 

In other words, Jesus did not enter a very human world of evil, foolishness, and suffering in order to show perpetual solidarity with the lowliest of sinners. He stooped down to that low level to wash the feet of his disciples, not the feet of disciples of Apollo, Cybele, Diana, Baal, or even Caesar. He stooped low to wash his disciples, and to make better disciples. He stooped low and showed solidarity with the lowliest because he loved humanity, and wanted humanity to receive purification from him. Jesus did not and does not love sin, and by extension, those who habitually and unrepentantly sin (I John 3:6, 9). Sure, if we say that we have no sin at all, then the truth of Jesus Christ does not dwell in us (1 John 1:8-10). But the belief that we will not or cannot sin at all is a very different belief than the one revealed by Christ's apostles, that we ought not and are now able to not make a habit of it. The incarnation gives meaning and purpose to that very specific type of suffering--a cruciform one, one which looks like Jesus's suffering through obedience. If his disciples suffered for the sake of their own injustices, their own falsehoods, and their own foolishness, that suffering is their own fault, and Jesus wants nothing to do with it. But if we suffer in his name (i.e. as "Christians") for what is truly just and right, and for what is absolutely true, and for what God has revealed to be wise and good, then Jesus welcomes us to the tree of life.

But that's part of our problem, right? Instead of conforming our thoughts and our ethical standards to God's revealed standards, we question his revelation. In our own subtle, serpentine manner we think, "Did God really say that?" Instead of forsaking what God demands us to forsake--our foolishness, our relative and lax moral standards--we want Jesus to accept our foolishness and laxity. We want to remain what we are now, and we want Jesus to accept us for what we will always want to be, even if we want to remain infantile. When we read the gospels and think that Jesus wants solidarity with the foolish, sin-filled world he entered, we are the ones who are mistaken. He does not. Jesus entered this fallen world in order to raise sinners up with him, from death to eternal life. He stooped very, very low, not to "connect" with us where we are, in order to remain where we are, but to tell us face to face, eye to eye, in flesh and blood, "Repent!" and "Go and sin no more!"

That brings up the last problem I want to address: guilt and pity.

I can't tell you how many Christians I know who wallow in their own guilt and self-pity. They constantly sin and fall into foolish ways of thinking; and they admit it; they wallow in it. They think they can't escape it. And to claim otherwise--so it is thought--is blasphemy; it's allegedly contrary to "the gospel."

But is it really contrary to the gospel, to think and live as though you have been delivered from slavery to sin and foolishness? Is it really contrary to the "good news" that Jesus says to us, "Go and sin no more!", and he really expects us to do that? I don't think so. And I think that it's the height of spiritual arrogance to excuse ourselves from trying, as though no matter how hard we try we're not actually able to do so. 

But then one might respond: "Because we will sin in the future, at some point, we might as well rest content in being who we are, wretched fools saved only by the grace of God."

Here's what I have to say to that: Grow up. Stop thinking like a child, and forsake such childish ways of thinking. If he saved you from your sins, he delivered you from enslavement to sin. You don't have to wallow in some imaginary bondage to sin. If you're still enslaved to sin, as though there is nothing you could do to stop it, then Jesus did not save you. You don't have to remain a fool, and he doesn't want you to.    

Now, someone might respond to these claims of mine by suggesting that Jesus expects perfection from us. And to that I respond, "No". That, to me, seems like another excuse to rationalize away one's need to "sin no more." The truth revealed in Scripture is that Jesus expects us to grow up. Jesus expects all of his children to increase in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man, just as he did (Luke 2:52). If we have true solidarity with him, that's what our lives ought to look like. Once "saved" from bondage to sin, we mature from childish ways to mature, godly ways. Jesus expects us to become equipped for the work of ministering to other sinners in need of godliness, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of "mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes" (Ephesians 4:12-14).

Athletes of Piety

Other writers of historical works have confined themselves to the written tradition of victories in wars, of triumphs over enemies, of the exploits of generals and the valour of soldiers, men stained with blood and with countless murders for the sake of children and country and other possessions; but it is wars most peaceful, waged for the very peace of the soul, and men who therein have been valiant for truth rather than for country, and for piety rather than for their dear ones, that our record of those who order their lives according to God will inscribe on everlasting monuments: it is the struggles of the athletes of piety and their valour which braved so much, trophies won from demons, and victories against unseen adversaries, and the crowns at the end of all, that it will proclaim for everlasting remembrance.1

1. Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica, 5.praef.3-4; cited in Aaron P. Johnson, Eusebius: Understanding Classics (New York, NY: L.B. Taurus & Co. Ltd.; 2014) pp. 100-101

From Milwaukee

AP photo/ Jeffrey Phelps

Here is a link to an article I wrote for the Theopolis Institute about the 2016 Milwaukee riots. The link to that article can be found here.

What Removes the Veil (A homily for Transfiguration Sunday, Year C)

Exod 34:29-35

2 Cor 3:12-4:2

Year C, last Sunday of Epiphany

Do you remember the story of the Ten Commandments and the golden calf incident? Do you also remember what happens at the very end of that story? Another way of asking the same thing is, do you remember how the story of the Ten Commandments ends? What happens at the very end of that story? It's strange, it's mysterious, and the apostle Paul thought it was so important that he wrote about it in his second epistle to the church in Corinth.

Now do you remember? 

That's right. The face of Moses shines and he veils his face when confronted by the people of Israel.

This is how the story unfolds: Immediately after the golden calf incident, God told Moses that he would no longer lead the people of Israel into the promised land—God would NOT go with them—and God's reason for that was because, even though God has just delivered them from Egypt with great signs and wonders, those people were still incredibly stubborn and rebellious. They had not yet faced the reality that the God delivering them is the Creator of all things. He alone is supreme. He is the Most High God, who rules over all things.

Unfortunately, after the golden calf incident, In the eyes of the people, the God who just delivered them wasn't much different than the gods of other nations. 

After God tells Moses that He won't be going with the people into the promised land, Moses pleads with God to go with them somehow. It is only after pleading multiple times, that the Lord relents and finally promises to send His glory among the Israelites. But the glory of God that was going to be among them was the glory reflected in the face of Moses himself. The Lord passed in glory before Moses, and then Moses went down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments again, shining with the glory of God—his face shining like the sun.

Here is where Paul picks up the story. 

The Apostle Paul understood that Moses veiled his face from the people of Israel because their hearts were still hardened against God. They didn't even realize that they broke God's covenant, and that the glory of God's covenant with them was already fading away. 

When Moses came down from the mountain a second time, he came down to tell the people that God's covenant with them was fading away, but because of his pleading on their behalf, God was willing to renew His covenant with them. It is at that time when Moses veils his face so that the stubborn and rebellious people of that generation could not see the end of encountering God's glory—and die in the wilderness as a result. As long as the people had hardened minds and hearts, they could not dwell in the glorious presence of God. The veil over Moses' face was the only thing protecting them, so that God could still dwell among them and lead them into the promised land.

Now, fast forward to the days of Jesus and his apostles

Paul tells us that with the incarnation of God, with Jesus coming into this world, the veil which covered God's glory is lifted. No Israelite in Jesus's day could encounter Jesus and not see the glory of God dwelling among them. This is why Paul also tells us that when The Jews of his day read the Books of Moses, a veil rests over their hearts and minds. They choose not to see the glory of God in Jesus, or even among His people. They choose not to be judged, or saved, by Jesus. When drawing upon a clear description of Israel at Sinai, Paul teaches that many Jews in his own generation were just as stubborn and rebellious as the Jews in Moses' day, with the golden calf incident. 

In Paul's day, many of his own generation refused to believe that Jesus was different than the gods of other nations. Like Israel in the wilderness, they refused to believe that God had begun a new and greater Exodus with Jesus. They refused to believe the city of Jerusalem with its corrupt priesthood and corrupt leadership had become a new and greater Egypt. They refused to believe that Jesus was the greater Moses, delivering them from bondage to their stubborn and sin-filled ways. Their refusal to gaze into the glory of God in Jesus was a very big problem, and it is still a problem for people today.

What does Paul teach about solving this big problem?

What would it take for the veil to be removed from the minds of stubborn and rebellious people? 

What would it have taken for Moses to remove his veil, so the glory of God could dwell safely among the people again?

Paul gives us the answer in our reading tonight. 

Paul tells us that "turning" (i.e. repentance) is what removes the veil (v. 16).  When we encounter the living and true God, and He makes His presence known to us, the proper response of all of us should always be repentance.  Repentance is the desire to return to God—a movement of love and trust toward Him. It is only by turning to the Lord that the veil over our sinful, stubborn minds is removed. Because our Lord, Jesus, is the “Spirit” who brings liberty (v. 17), when we turn to Him, then we can be face-to-face with God’s glory and our hearts and minds can be renewed (cf. 4:4-6). 

All of this talk about faces glowing with the glory of God might sound strange and mysterious, but it's meaning is still very practical for us today. When we encounter the living and true God, and we turn toward Him (instead of the opposite—directing our thoughts and emotions away from Him or against Him, refusing to love and trust Him), the Spirit of God liberates us and transforms us to become more like Him; The Spirit of God transforms us to become more and more godly. The Spirit of God helps us share a family resemblance with him.

As a result of that transformation, we see many things in this world change. We see people "living patient, productive, loving lives. We see parents loving children and children loving parents. We see Husbands loving wives and wives showing loving respect for their husbands. We see Servants and masters working in mutual respect and concern. We see people producing the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."1 

In short, we see people living like Jesus, fulfilling God's Law.

It is not enough to acknowledge sins and confess them. We must also turn to the Lord for change in life. When we turn to the Lord, the veil over our heart and mind is removed. The Spirit of the Lord is then given so that we can become fully human, with the glory of God dwelling among us.

1. A couple insights in this post, but especially this list of ways which people are transformed by the Spirit of God, come directly from Peter Leithart. https://theopolisinstitute.com/seven-spirits/s

Called to Freedom (A Meditation for Ordinary Time, Proper 8)

Called to Freedom 

(A Meditation for Ordinary Time, Proper 8, Year C, II)

Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Virtually every aspect of life among ancient cultures in biblical times was centered around a nation's own temple and it's god. All people of all ancient nations thought this way.

To have communion with the gods, so it was thought, you needed a house for your God to dwell in. And once your God had taken up residency among you and your people, it claimed that territory as its own, and it claimed ownership of everyone within it. Your God reigned as lord over your tribal territory, and even over your household. And if you wanted to stay in the land your god gave you, if you wanted favorable provisions in life from the hand of your god, you needed to become its household slave.  Being a slave of a king or a god wasn't a bad thing, by the way. It was, in fact, a highly privileged position to be in.

But just because your god dwelled among you and your people, that did not mean everyone else around you or your people had direct access to your god. In order for your neighbors to have access to this special relationship with your god, they needed to submit to the laws of their temple, which were the laws of their gods. The laws of their gods were the sacramental tapestry holding all of ancient social order together. 

This is the background of the "slavery" imagery which Paul uses throughout his letter to the Galatian Christians, except here, in chapter 5, we learn that there is one catch to Paul's rhetoric: with the coming of Israel's messiah, Jesus Christ had set all Christians free from such slavery.

Another important bit of background information worth remembering is that when Paul writes to the Galatian Christians, he is condemning specific types of "false-brothers" secretly planted among them, who are trying to take away their liberty in Christ (2:4). Paul is not condemning obedience to "laws" or "commandments" in the abstract. Paul is only condemning the patterns of life exhibited by such "false-brothers" who want to enslave Christians under the Law taught in Judaism (of which he, Paul, used to be an "advanced" and zealous advocate; 1:13-14). The "false-brothers" of Judaism were those who had fellowship with Christians but still insisted upon life under the law taught within Judaism, the law which centralized the liturgical and social structures of the old covenant temple, and separated Jews and Gentiles (and others) from direct access to God. 

Paul condemns the law under first century Judaism, not because the old covenant law per se was intrinsically "bad," but because of two other significant reasons. First, Paul condemned the law under Judaism because in the first century, the application of God's "Law" had become incredibly corrupt, abusive, and manipulative—and all for the sake of building up an empire lead by corrupt Jewish authorities, whom Jesus also condemned. Secondarily, Paul condemns the law under Judaism because Jesus came and replaced that first century Jewish temple with the temple of his body, making all of God's laws fulfilled and centralized in Christ's Body.

So when Paul spoke of Christ "freeing" the Galatian Christians "for the sake of freedom," telling them to submit to Christ and not to a yoke of slavery, his concern was very specific. Certain Jews had crept into the Christian church masquerading as disciples of God, but instead of promoting the work of God's Spirit in building his new temple, they were persuading Gentiles to enslave themselves to the old covenant temple and the laws of Jewish authorities in Jerusalem. They taught that in order to be a slave of God's house—which, again, was a highly privileged position to be in—you had to yoke yourself to the whole system of Jewish Law, which was centralized in their temple within Jerusalem.

In other words, the desire of these "false-brothers" was to make disciples of Judaism, not disciples of Jesus. Keep in mind, also,  that it was John the Baptist and Jesus who first spoke out about the corruption of Judaism and God's condemnation of their entire religious system. First century Judaism, as Paul understood best, was a yoke of slavery requiring obedience to uniquely Jewish laws as an entrance point into life and communion with God. But when God came down to earth in flesh and lived among men in the flesh, that changed everything about the relationship between God and men. That crossed a temple boundary enshrined in law which had never been crossed before in ancient history. Through faith in Jesus, Paul knew that the "false-brothers" of the Christian churches were deadly wrong in their understanding of communion with God, and any committed, first century disciple of Judaism was doomed to destruction along with the destruction of their temple (which was destroyed in 70ad). The whole sacramental fabric of Judaism's social order was doomed to die in 70ad via the prophecies of Jesus reaching their fulfillment. Life under the temple-centered mindset of Judaism was of "the flesh," Paul says, and that "lust of the flesh" brings death. Only the Jesus-centered desire of the Christianity was of the Spirit, producing life.

With all of this in mind, it's important to understand why Paul emphasizes "living by the Spirit" in contrast with living "under law." 

Did Paul mean to teach his Christian disciples that the law of God had now become obsolete—that the law of God is no longer a lamp unto our feet and a light for the path they walk on?

I think that if we are studying the letter to Galatians carefully, it's clear that for Paul the Law of God itself as a whole had not become obsolete. It's temple and God's covenant in relation with that temple had become obsolete, but not the law of God itself. Rather, Paul insists, the Law of God is fulfilled in Christ and his body. In Christ, God's Law had become the Wisdom and Spirit of God personified. 

Note carefully how this is evident by what Paul says in verses 13-14: 

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be slaves to one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

In these two verses, Paul not only quotes a portion of God's Law word for word to endorse Christian love (Lev. 19:18), but he seems obligated to reveal such an objective standard for love because it is already well-known that the whole law has been fulfilled in Christ and his Body. Paul's exhortation to love one another would be meaningless if the whole law was not fulfilled by Christians. You shall love your neighbor as yourself, Paul says. You fulfill the whole law, Paul says. And in context, Paul seems to be saying that they ought to do so by the Spirit of the Law, just as Jesus did, and not merely the letter of the Law, as the false-brothers of Judaism did. 

Therefore, it can be safely asserted that Jesus fulfilled the law for us so that we might walk in him, fulfilling the Spirit of the Law to serve one another.

It is precisely because Christ has fulfilled the law that the church also shares in active fulfillment of God's law as well. But Christians ought not to do so by reconstructing society according to the letter of the law. That's what Judaizers did! The Judaizers could not grasp the idea of Jesus replacing their temple in Jerusalem. The holy city of Jerusalem, and it's temple sanctuary was mistakenly believed to be central to their identity with the living and true God, instead of Jesus being central. Likewise, many Christians today mistakenly centralize the Church in their own particular denomination instead of in Christ alone. Even worse, many Christians today have gone beyond the sin of first century Judaism by centralizing themselves individually as the temple of God, instead of committing to the health and well-being of the local, visible church. If you've ever heard a professing Christian say, "I'm spiritual, but not religious," you know what I'm talking about. The fundamental danger of that kind of reasoning is that the life within Jesus' Body (i.e. the baptized body, the Church) is not believed to be integral or necessary for life with Jesus himself. But that's like separating the head (Jesus) and a finger (one's self) from the rest of it's body (the visible, baptized body), and claiming that the finger can live perfectly healthy severed from the body as long as it knows the "head" (Jesus) it belongs with. But life in Christ is more than mere personal belonging to Jesus. It is a mutual belonging and indwelling of all members of the body, including it's head.

So how is it that we, the Church, can actively fulfill the whole law of God, as Paul commends here in Galatians?

Well, as a starting point, I suggest that when Christians today look back at the Law of God in such places like Leviticus 19, we should do our best not to reconstruct that exact system and its relationship to the temple of Jerusalem. Sadly, that is what most fundamentalists today desire (shown most explicitly among dispensational fundamentalists). Instead, Christians today should want to build up the body of Christ—the new covenant temple—with the Spirit of God's Law. Christians are fools if they go to God's law as a blueprint for reconstructing a Christless society. Instead, Christians ought go to God's Law to find Christ in it and to retrieve the fruits of his Spirit taught within it. If God's Law is not used by Christians to construct a Christlike culture, then whatever culture God is building through them cannot and will not ever be godly. Our American Christian culture is suffering greatly today, not because it needs God's law or because it is opposed to God's Law. It suffers because it lacks the Spirit of God's Law.

As the Spirit of God's law in Leviticus 19 teaches us, Christians have a responsibility before Christ to provide for the poor from their own fields. Christians ought not to steal or deal falsely with one another, or lie to each other, tearing apart the social fabric of godly integrity. Moreover, the Spirit of the Law teaches us that we ought not oppress our neighbor, or even rob them by withholding or delaying the wages they worked for—wages Christian employers might owe them. The Spirit of the Law teaches us to care for and treat those who are disabled exceptionally well. They are not to be treated as outcasts, because in Christ they are loved. The Spirit of the Law teaches that we ought to judge justly in civil matters. We ought to avoid the slander of our neighbors, not hating our brothers in the heart, but rather reasoning frankly with them, and not taking vengeance against them or bearing a grudge. Not only is that what the Spirit of Leviticus 19 teaches, but that is also what the Spirit of Jesus taught in his Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5:21-26, 33-42). The Sermon on the Mount is what living by the Spirit of Leviticus 19 looks like—it looks like the Law of the Greater Moses, Jesus Christ and the commandments he gave.

One last thing about Paul's letter to the Galatians is worth noting carefully.

Remember, Paul has the Judaizers of Galatia in mind when he quotes a portion of God's law as a standard for the whole of Christian love. Paul is not opposed to a Christian transfiguration of God's Law, because it is Christ-centered; and because it is Christ-centered, it is also Christian-Church centered. Paul (just as much as Jesus) was opposed to the way the Judaizing system of God's "Law" promoted "legal" corruption and wicked behavior, contrary to the works of God's Spirit. Throughout Paul's letter he describes the disciples of Judaism as "fleshly" and deadly, not spiritual and alive.

This is why, toward the end of the letter which we read, Paul gives a long list of unspiritual, ungodly behavior. The works of "the flesh" are found in Gal. 5:19—21. Interestingly, God's Law has something to say about all of those behavioral categories, and the Spirit of God's Law condemns and transfigures such behavior. For, Paul says, those who belong to Christ Jesus have "crucified the flesh" with such lusts and passions (5:24).

Instead of standing condemned by God's Law, the Spirit of God's law revives us, granting Christians the liberty to produce the fruits of God's Spirit. What are those fruits? Galatians 5:22—23 provides a list for us. Yet notice carefully, again, how Paul concludes his list of Spiritual fruits. He says that against such Spiritually fruitful behavior "there is no law."

What Law is Paul referring to? I would contend (along with many other Christians in history) that Paul is referring to the very well-known law—the same Law that condemned the listed "fleshly" behavior in the previous three verses. From this, we can conclude that there is no law of God which stands against the fruitful behavior of Christ's Spirit within a believer. And if we behave by the Spirit, we are not merely obeying laws of God, as those of first century Judaism who did so to build up their own tribe. Instead, the Spirit of God gives us liberty to fulfill God's Law in various ways. And as the Church is filled-full with the Spirit of God's Law, the world grows into what God wants His Temple to look like. It looks godly. It looks like our God and our King, Jesus.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

* * * * * * * 

Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of the Spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Church as Lone Prophet (A Meditation for Ordinary Time)

The Church as Lone Prophet

A Meditation for Ordinary Time (Proper 7, Year C, II)

I Kings 19:1-15

Galatians 3:23-29

Luke 8:26-39

In 1st Kings chapter 18, we learn that the wicked king of Israel, Abab, has hunted down all the prophets of YHWH in an attempt to remove their influence throughout the land. And just before our reading today, he summoned all of Israel and all of their prophets to defeat the Lord's last prophet, along with his "God" on Mount Carmel. At this point in the story, it's all the prophets of Baal versus one prophet, Elijah, the lone prophet of YHWH. Elijah, again, is outnumbered. The odds seem to be completely against him. But as we soon learn, just one lone prophet with the Lord on his side, is greater than the world that opposes him. 

You all know the story. In the end, the prophets of Baal cannot summon their gods to rain down fire from heaven. The Baal worshipers make fools out of themselves all day long, and at the end of the day Elijah prays to the Lord one time, and the Lord answers him. The Lord answers by raining fire down from heaven, and Elijah's God—the living and true God—wins. And when all the people saw the Lord answer Elijah's prayer, they fell on their faces confessing that YHWH is God (1 Kings 18:38-39).

Because of Elijah's loyal and loving faithfulness to the Lord, by the end of chapter 18, it looks as though the dawn of Israel's redemption seems very near. We finally see a glimmer of hope in the story, where the Lord seems to be turning the idolatrous house of Ahab, and the corrupt hearts of Israel, back to Himself. But as soon as we turn the page and enter chapter 19—which is our reading for today—we hit a major road block. Apparently Elijah's loyalty to YHWH didn't stop all of the leaders of Israel. Jezebel, the queen, was particularly upset with his victory. And instead of turning to the Lord, the leaders of Israel follow Jezebel's reaction against Elijah's faithfulness by threatening and conspiring to kill this last, lone prophet of YHWH. For those familiar with the history of the powerful nations surrounding Israel, reactions of these sorts are expected from enemies. (Similar reactions occurred with later prophets as well, like John the Baptist and even Jesus himself.) In Elijah's day, Israel had become another powerful empire of its own, just as corrupt as the surround ungodly empires.

Even Paul, when writing to the Galatians, was prepared for the hostile reactions of Judaizers who were breathing threats against him and against his gospel. The Judaizers painted Paul's gospel as a threat to the Faith, yet Paul faithfully and lovingly urged the Galatian Christians to follow his example, obeying the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ and not another gospel.

Like Elijah and Paul, the Church is called to be a prophetic witness sent out ("apostled") to the nations. As such, the calling of the Church is to love and serve the Lord through all threats against Him and against His anointed ones. In doing so, the Lord's victory over the idols of every generation becomes obvious to all. But that isn't to say that such faithful witnessing is always easy or even comfortable. It can be incredibly intimidating and demanding at times as well.

Like Elijah fleeing into the wilderness and lying down in despair under a tree to die (1 Kings 19:5), at times we—the Church—will exhaust ourselves through various trials, and will even want to lie down and accept defeat at times, too. But the witness of Holy Scripture reminds us that the Lord is faithful to those who remain jealous for Him. He is faithful to those who trust and obey Him through the high mountain-top victories and low valleys of wilderness wandering—quite literally through life and death. As we see vividly in the Elijah narrative, just when the feelings of defeat and death set in, the Lord resurrects hope within, visiting them with food and drink to endure their long journey (1Kings 19:5-8).

The gospel of our Scripture readings today could not be more clear: In the midst of despair, when most people follow the "Baals" of the land or simply reject the lordship of Jesus outright (as many of Israel did in Paul's day), the Lord does not forget His people. Instead, the Lord nourishes and raises up a remnant in the midst of a dry and thirsty land, to remind us that even when despair or depression or exhaustion has distorted our vision of God's love for this world, God has the situation under control. He has not stopped loving this world of His, even through its trials and judgments; nor has He forgotten His people through such judgments. Just as the lone prophets and apostles were God's means for preserving the Faith of Israel through judgment, so the ministry of the Church in Christ Jesus—the prophet and apostle of our confession (Heb 1:1-4; 3:1)—is God's means of saving the world.

As we learned in our gospel reading today, it is in Christ that each earthly house—whether it's the house of the Gerasenes, or Israel, or Baal—can flee from judgment, and can have its Legion of demons cast out. As the Church of Jesus Christ, we are sent out into the world to bear witness to that One who delivers his enemies from bondage to sin and calls them to proclaim how much God has done for them (Luke 8:39). Our calling might be difficult. It might be exhausting too. But when we get weary and weak because of our faithfulness, at least we know where rest and refreshment are found for our journey. It is here, in Christ's Church, that the weary are given rest, and the weak receive food and drink for every journey ahead.

It is in Christ Jesus that we, the Church, are all sons of God. For Paul says, as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. In Christ we are now a new creation, so we ought to live like the new creation we are, living with gratitude, living with praise and adoration of Jesus Christ, living unashamedly as a prophetic witness of His lordship over all. It is in this Church united to Jesus Christ—this new Jerusalem which has already come down from heaven—that death is swallowed up in victory, and all things are being made new.

Believe that, and don't be ashamed to proclaim how much God has done and will continue doing for the world. And if you're ever feeling ready to throw in the towel, don't lean upon your own understanding. Rather, in all your ways acknowledge Jesus and He will direct your paths. He won't forsake you or anyone else who puts their trust in Him. So put your trust in Him. Lean on him. He wants you to, especially when you feel like a lone prophet in this world. He walks alongside you, directing the way you should go, so that you can put your trust in Him. Even if it's through death's darkest valley, don't fear any evil, for the Lord is with you. Let his rod and staff comfort you, for he walks with you, ready and willing to show the world that He is your Shepherd, and in Him you lack nothing. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

* * * * * * * *

O Lord, make us have perpetual love and reverence for your holy Name, for you never fail to help and govern those whom you have set upon the sure foundation of your loving-kindness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Chief End of Christian Self-Improvement

 "...[I]n both the liberal and conservative camps, the old hermeneutics are giving way to a loyalty to the Bible determined by its perceived ability to help people fulfill their own personal and social potential. The Bible is fodder for positive thinking, or rules for peace and prosperity, or a daily horoscope of customized divine promises. Or, it is not, in which case the Bible is ignored. Many liberals and conservatives alike, unpersuaded by the claims of pastors, professors, booksellers, and televangelists, turn into biblical non-readers, as they fail to find it helpful in advancing their personal agendas. 

 The weaknesses of both historical criticism and fundamentalistic legalism pale in comparison to the problems of the bibliology of self improvement. A Trinitarian and Christocentric doctrine of Scripture is an even more urgent remedy for Christians who have learned to make themselves the thing to be enjoyed, and God the sacramental thing to be used in the service of their own adoration."

1.  Telford Work, Living and Active: Scripture in the Economy of Salvation (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2002), p. 317. Work's closing comments are especially noteworthy, subtly parodying the first question of the famous Westminster Shorter Catechism, which asks, "What is the Chief end of man? Answer: Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever."

Players in an Emotivist Drama

The following excerpt is taken from Telford Work's Ain't Too Proud to Beg: Living through the Lord's Prayer1:

    In After Virtue Alasdair MacIntyre describes three indispensable characters of modern society: the aesthete, the manager, and the therapist.2 We all know them well (especially those of us who have or are leaders in the American Church): lampooned in the black humor of The Simpsons, South Park, and Dilbert, these types are ubiquitous and socially indispensable. As characters, they fuse a psychological profile and a social role into one powerful unity that embodies their culture. McIntyre locates these three modern characters within an underlying philosophical culture of emotivism, which reduces moral judgments to the expressions of personal preferences.3 (In the words of Mormon philosopher Napoleon Dynamite, "Just follow your heart. That's what I do.") Emotivism flourishes among the social classes, institutions, and professions whose purposes it serves most naturally and organically.4 These groups benefit from emotivists reduction of ethics to self-expression. Emotivism is a twentieth-century British invention,5 and MacIntyre's characters are also of course the principal authorities in Dalrymple's6 world. They spread its moral ideology among all who entrust themselves to them, catechizing both their cultures' natives and its new arrivals in the dogma that moral truth boils down to authentic self-expression.

    Emotivism is immensely advantageous for powerful classes, institutions, and professions. It goes beyond even the divine right of kings in absolutizing their authority. Cultivated taste, proven effectiveness, and earned credentials are their own justification. However, emotivism pressures the powerless into the role of a very different character: the victim. The moral choices of a victim are radically constrained by the choices of the powerful. It is tempting to consider the victim a fourth character in emotivist culture. After all, what would aesthetes be without vulgar masses, managers without worker-drones, and therapists without patients?

    The greatest comfort to emotivism's elites, the absolute sovereignty of the emotivist self, is the sorest spot for emotivism's victims. You see, if victims are moral agents too, then at least some of their failures should reflect the choices they have made. This is the condition Dalrymple's patients and inmates cannot bring themselves to face. They plead with Dalrymple that they fail because they are too easily led, or feel in with the wrong crowd, or took drugs because they were widely available. They refuse to take the blame for their mistakes. 

They go to some length to provide an answer other than that they like it and found pleasure in doing what they knew they ought not to do. "My grandfather died," or "My girlfriend left me," or "I was in prison": never do they avow a choice or a conscious decision. And yet they know that what they are saying is untrue: for they grasp the point immediately wen I tell them that my grandfather, too, died, yet I do not take heroin, as indeed the great majority of people whose grandfathers have died do not.7

    They grasp Dalrymple's point because they too are players in an emotivist drama. 

    Like yin and yang, a common moral axiom creates emotivism's winners and losers in one stroke and pits them against each other. Each group's existence drives the other to hypocrisy. Elites must pay lip services to the determinism that comforts victims, but they dare not direct it at themselves. Victims can acknowledge the moral agency they share with their successful neighbors and superiors, but they prefer to shift blame to structures both personal and impersonal. 

This is the lie that is at the heart of our society, the lie that encourages every form of destructive self-indulgence to flourish: for while we ascribe our conduct to pressures from without, we obey the whims that well up from within, thereby awarding ourselves carte blanche to behave as we choose. Thus we feel good about behaving badly.8

    Put simply, both sides live a lie.




1. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2007, pp. 175-7
2. 2d ed., Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984, p. 30
3. Ibid. pp. 11-12
4. Ibid. p. 29
5. Ibid. p. 14
6. Theodore Dalrymple (the pen name of Anthony Daniels) is a prison doctor in the U.K. and an essayist for the conservative quarterly City Journal. 
7. Dalrymple, Theodore. Life at the Bottom: The Worldview that Makes the Underclass. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2001, p. 121
8. Ibid. p. 122

Rules in a real world

Below is an intriguing excerpt about ethics from Peter Leithart's latest book, Traces of the Trinity: Signs of God in Creation and Human Experience:

   We apply rules differently from situation to situation, and we don’t really know how a rule works or which rule to use unless we know the variations. You don’t even know which rule to use unless you have examined the facts. “Love your enemies,” Jesus said. To apply that, we need to identify our enemies. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” Jesus said, quoting Leviticus. And the lawyer’s response was a reasonable one: “Who is my neighbor?” “Don’t covet your neighbor’s wife or his house or his cattle,” Yahweh thundered from Sinai, but you need to see a marriage certificate and a bill of sale to know what woman, house, and cattle are off-limits. You can’t even use a rule unless you know something about the situation, since rules always have to be applied to a real world that is always in the form of a particular situation. 

   Rules cannot be followed without attention to situations, and the effort to sidestep situations is ultimately unethical. It’s another version of the attempt to escape time and change that we’ve seen before. 

   On the other hand, you can’t abandon rules and reduce ethics to situations either. Situational ethics is incoherent.

Master: Always conform to the situation

Disciple: Is that an absolute command?

Master: How 'bout those Seahawks? 

   Worse, a purely situational ethics is ultimately unethical. Are we faithful only when situations demand faithfulness, or is faithfulness a trans-situational virtue? Asked whether rape might be legitimate under certain circumstances, no one will seriously answer, “Yes, of course. There are times when rape is the ethical course.” If anyone does say that, you can be morally certain he is a philosophy professor, that he lives a highly protected life in the academy, and that he would have a very different reaction if the rape victim were his daughter or his wife. 

   Right dispositions are just as necessary. Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons is wrong because goals and motives determine what kind of action an action is. Taking care of an old lady out of greed for her inheritance is not an act of kindness, or even an act of kindness with a patina of disquieting immorality. It’s a different sort of act entirely, an act of avarice. Conforming to the prescriptions of a religious ritual without real devotion to God is not worship but hypocrisy, a vice condemned by ancient Jews like Isaiah and Jesus, by Christians like Aquinas and Calvin, by the Buddha, Muhammad, and Hindu sages through the ages. Evil dispositions make an act evil, but good dispositions don’t by themselves make an act ethical. We might pity the whore with the heart of gold, but the category of “well-meaning rapist” doesn’t make any ethical sense. 

   So, the only way to be ethical or think ethically about ethics is to juggle all of these factors, to keep all the balls in the air all the time. And here we glimpse again the pattern we’ve encountered throughout this essay, the pattern of mutual indwelling, operating at the level of theory: ethical concepts and ethical authorities have to indwell each other to be truly ethical. If we extract rules from the intricacies of situations and the motivating power of dispositions, the rules are useless. If we siphon off situations from rules and dispositions, we will find ourselves justifying horrors. If we reduce ethics to dispositions, we can defend any action, so long as one’s heart is in the right place. 

   Each has to be defined by the other. Rules apply to situations, and we conform to rules only when our motives and goals are right. Situations need to be seen in the light of ethical rules, since rules are part of the situation we’re in. We can make sense of our ethical dispositions only when they attend to rules and remain attentive to situations. These three are one, because each is a home for the others; each makes its home in each. Unless each dwells in each, we don’t have ethics at all. Ethics is constituted by the mutual indwelling of rules, real-life situations, and virtuous dispositions. When we inquire into the “ontology” of ethics, in other words, we find at a conceptual level the same pattern we found when exploring the world outside our heads. We discover the contours of mutual habitation. Since we’re talking ethics, though, the “is” becomes a “must”: ethics is a study of dispositions, rules, and situations. Ethics also must be such, or it ceases to be ethical.

Where he would start

    To those who are "tired of" all the culture war rhetoric, I have one last point to make. If North America were one vast pagan empire, and the apostle Paul just arrived here, what would he do first? I quite grant that he would not start by circulating petitions against the gladiatorial games. He would start with the foundations, which would be planting churches, establishing worship around the empire, and teaching Christians to live like Christians in their families and congregations. We are going to judge angels, so let's start by learning self-government. If the meek will inherit the earth, you don't start with the inheriting part--you start by learning meekness, which can only be learned through the gospel. So that's where he would start. 

    But if one day we got to the point where there were tens of thousands of churches, and millions of Christians, and the gladiatorial games were still going on merrily, and new stadiums were being built every year, then the only possible conclusion would be that the churches in question were diseased. 

    "Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor, wherewith shall it be salted? It is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under the foot of men" (Matt. 5:13). 

- Douglas Wilson (from his blog, dougwils.com)

Trinitarian Hospitality

 

    Some philosophers, like Jacques Derrida, say that hospitality must be absolute. We are to welcome all, and welcome them as they are. That is not the sort of ethic I propose here. Rather, it is an ethic of hospitality that welcomes in order to change. We don’t welcome the naked so they can be naked in our presence; we don’t show hospitality to the hungry so they can watch us eat. We welcome the naked and hungry to change their circumstances. We make room for them so we can clothe and feed them.

    So too with moral hunger and personal shame. We don’t welcome addicts so they can continue in their addiction. We make room for them, and take up residence in their lives, in order to be agents of ethical transformation. We don’t receive the prostitute to help her get more tricks. We open our lives to the prostitute so we can deliver her from her slavery— to the pimp, perhaps to drugs, to poverty, to a destructive life. Hospitality is not universal approval. It is universal welcome for the sake of renewal. We make room not to tolerate but to transform. We’ve made some advances in our turn from ontology to ethics, more than we might have noticed. From this point in our climb, we can begin to see the peak and begin to have something more than suspicions about what’s up there.

    The nature of the universe as I’ve described it encourages an ethic of self-giving love; if we are going to live in accord with the shape of things, we need to adopt a stance of availability, of openness to others and willingness to enter when others open to us. And that suggests a way to reason back from ethics to ontology. If the ethics of mutual penetration is an ethics of love, then the ontology of mutual indwelling is an ontology of love. The world is open to me and I to the world. Persons are capable of being open to other persons, and times to other times. Words make room for other words, and chords have room for all the clustered notes that contribute to their sound. At every terrace, it seems, even when we were only looking through a glass darkly or hoping for some insight into the way things are, we were glimpsing traces of love, love wired into the world, love as the operating system of creation. And as we look up to the peak, we might begin to see the outlines of a love that moves the sun and all the other stars.1

1.  Peter J. Leithart, Traces of the Trinity: Signs of God in Creation and Human Experience [Brazos Press, 2015]