Dispatches to God's Household Blog

What Binds Us (Lesson Nine: Final Post)

“The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.”  ― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

“Now to [the one] who is able to keep you from falling, and to make you stand without blemish in the presence of his glory with rejoicing, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, before all time and now and forever.  Amen” (Jude 24-25, NRSV). 

As our journey through the General Epistles in Dispatches to God’s Household comes to an end, I can’t help but contemplate other types of endings.  That’s why I’m drawn to the ending of Jude’s letter.  It contains a benediction (which, in Latin, means “good word”), that, even today, sends believers forth into the world with confidence before God through Jesus Christ.  Two thousand years from now, I imagine, these words of blessing will still stand, yet they will not “stand still.”  They will continue to stir, compel, commission, and console God’s children.  

To conjure the notion of these words, or of all these letters, or of the Bible as a whole remaining millennia beyond us is a rather odd enterprise.  So much within the world (or, at the very least, in the United States) is disposable; designed for “planned obsolescence.”  If you are reading this post on an iPad that you purchased or received in 2010 (a “first-generation” iPad), your device is already outdated and under-powered.  As a matter of fact, it may render websites so slowly that you’ve been tempted to give up on using it for anything other than an expensive paperweight.  Even if you find that it still meets your needs, the pressure to upgrade to the newest model may be too tempting to resist.  After all, who wants to be left behind on the banks of the rushing river of technological (read: cultural) progress?  Every morning, through fancy machines with hard-to-pronounce names, we brew individual cups of coffee in tiny containers that filter frothy beverages instantaneously, only to dispose of the remaining single-purpose plastic brewing cups without regard for the wastefulness of the exercise.  Our culture disposes of people pretty quickly as well as “stuff.”  Quick: name the Season Two winner of American Idol.  Do you recall the name of the man from Harlem who rescued an endangered man from the New York Subway rails six years ago?  Does your congregation continue to pray for Élian Gonzales? (Who’s THAT, you ask?  Exactly).  Ours is a culture of extravagant consumption and quick disposal—of objects, of information and, sadly, of all creatures, including people.  Given our propensity to dredge everything through this cycle, what is it about these words that lend themselves to overcoming our short attention spans?

The vulnerability of humankind in the vast measures of time and space is, ultimately, the constant condition that has made, makes, and will continue to make this benediction relevant to our experience of God.  There is deep longing expressed here:  from the one “who is able to keep [us] from falling” we yearn for protection from the dangers of living, that we might survive and find our footing on steady ground; that we might “stand without blemish” in the presence of glory, we pray that we find favor in the midst of the source of our existence: to be safe, to be “good.”  The quest to satisfy these essential longings leads to our rejoicing when our deepest needs are met. More than anything else, Jude’s benediction, and the Epistles as a whole, reflect humankind’s deep longings which lead us to seek be-longing.  We are bound together as family through our vulnerability before God and one another; we are made strong when, through our weakness, we seek connection and are bound together by love.  Remember (re-member: “to put back together”):  “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts our fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.  We love because [God] first loved us…the commandment we have from [God] is this:  those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also” (1 John 4:18-19, 21).  We are a human family in our vulnerability.  We are members of God’s household through our embodiment of God’s love.  Through Jesus Christ, we hold our birthright.  Thanks be to God!

 

 

 

The Necessity of Nuance: 2 Peter 2 and Jude (Lesson 8: The Bad Seeds)

The first ten days of March 2013 I spent in New York City, attending an array of events during the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women (UNCSW57).  The Commission on the Status of Women was established in 1946 by the Economic and Social Council [of the United Nations] to prepare recommendations and reports on promoting women’s rights in the political, economic, civil, social, and educational fields  (http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/csw/57sess.htm).  Each year, the Commission adopts a particular issue on which to focus; this year’s issue was “the elimination of all forms of violence against women and girls.”  Since 1995, the foci of CSW stem from the Beijing Platform for Action, which was adopted during the UN Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995.  The platform lifts up twelve “Areas of Critical Concern for Women,” which includes #4:  violence against women.  Presbyterians have a rich history of involvement in the United Nations; Presbyterian Women, in particular, have been at the forefront of the Church’s social witness in promoting the common good for the sake of all Creation, including testifying to the full humanity of women, as inspired by the gospel (http://www.pcusa.org/resource/justice-and-peace-links-un-commission-status-women/).

 Each day of my visit met with a deluge of accounts of women and children suffering from all forms of targeted violence:  physical, psychological, economic, structural, war-induced—the list goes on.  A stark fact is that 1 in three women in the world have endured some form of physical violence; many, many other statistics attest to other extremes.  Along with the 69 other Presbyterian delegates to the CSW, I stood with the conviction that an authentic witness to the gospel required of me that I speak out against violence against women and children, as Jesus and my Christian faith would compel me, without question, to do.  And yet, sadly, there are certain aspects of my Christian tradition that have either caused or reinforced violence against women and children (or, at the very least, not done very much to prevent it).

 What does any of this have to do with Lesson Eight, you might be asking yourself?  Well, here’s the thing:  when I read Jude and 2 Peter rail against enemies of Jesus Christ, I channel their righteous indignation when I think of all the bad Christians who “defile” the community through violence and enmity, especially against women and children.  If I read Jude as Jude and 2 Peter as Peter, then I feel comfortable, confident and, let’s face it, more than a little self-righteous in my indignation.  It is not often the case, however, that those who feel compelled to argue for the rights and equality of women within the Christian faith are those who turn to these texts for inspiration.  To acknowledge how we in U.S. society often reduce Christian perspectives to two extremes (which proves many times incomplete and unhelpful yet stubbornly persistent nonetheless), there are the “leftist extremists” who tend to ignore letters like 2 Peter and Jude, and the “right-wing firebrands” who photocopy pages from 2 Peter and Jude to tape on the doors and slap on the windowshields of those whom they identify as enemies of their worldview. 

 One of the dynamics I seek to complexify, as we consider these texts (known in academic circles as “invectives”), is the notion of to whom they “belong.”  When the accusation (leveled in both letters against enemies) of “pervert[ing] the grace of God” is lodged, it is just as legitimate to assert that denying women access to clean water is as much a perversion of the Good News (unethical) as is “slander[ing] the glorious ones” (unorthodox).  In making this assertion, I am influenced by one of the “Guidelines for Interpreting Scripture” lifted up by the Office of the General Assembly:

“realize that points of view are conditioned by points of viewing.  Try to see the issues from the perspectives of others.  Seek to identify what each one is trying to preserve and defend.  Ask whether these elements could be preserved in ways that would lead toward mutual understanding” (http://www.pcusa.org/resource/presbyterian-understanding-and-use-holy-scripture/).

The Bible says a lot of things about a lot of things, really, so it should come as little surprise when people with different points of reference perceive different elements within it.  That is not to argue for some vague sense of moral relativism; it is simply to acknowledge that differences in understanding are inevitable, so different points of view must be, at least, acknowledged.  These texts existed long before us; they will exist long, long after we are gone.  They have, they do, they will continue to speak, somehow.  To some of my “liberal” sisters and brothers—running away from these texts accomplishes nothing.  To some of my “conservative” sisters and brothers—be careful in assuming that these texts are “yours”—they’re not.  To everyone else—wake up! 

There are at least two other dynamics that I feel are important to name.  Sometimes, they pull against each other while, at other times, they coexist peaceably.  On the one hand, there is the legitimacy of voices of invective (or harsh) speech within the Christian tradition.  To speak resolutely against detrimental influences is a form of authentic discipleship, which is why I think that these texts remain a part of the biblical canon.  On the other hand, there is the necessity for forbearance.  As discussed in Lesson Eight, the denumount of Jude calls upon Christians not to “shout out” but to “look within” to cultivate righteousness.  There is a danger in screaming too loudly, for too long, in that one runs the danger of losing one’s voice.  Interestingly enough, I see a case of this that emerges when we compare 2 Peter 2 with Jude.

 Most scholars acknowledge 2 Peter as the “newest” book in the New Testament, and that it was influenced greatly by Jude’s letter.  In fact, when you compare 2 Peter 2-3 with the entire letter of Jude, strong similarities emerge.  One of the closest resides in the comparison of Jude v. 7 and 2 Peter 2:6-9, both of which make reference to Sodom and Gomorrah.  Both letters cite offenses of Sodom and Gomorrah, and God’s punishment of the cities, as proof that God will hold “defilers” accountable, while God will protect the righteous.  There is one major difference between the two, however:  while Jude’s (earlier) invective simply mentions the situation in general, 2 Peter adds a commendation of Lot, arguing, “and if he rescued Lot, a righteous man greatly distressed by the licentiousness of the lawless (for that righteous man, living among them day after day, was tormented in his righteous soul by their lawless deeds that he saw and heard), then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trial, and to keep the unrighteous under punishment until the day of judgment.” 

On its surface, 2 Peter’s invective here appears consistent and compelling.  The author is outraged at the hideous conduct of those whom he regards as unrighteous, and finds an example in the Hebrew scriptures to commend to the believers as an upholder of righteousness.  What do we find, however, when we actually look at the account of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis 19?  Well, we find Lot upholding the cultural imperative of hospitality to visitors which, indeed, is a sign of righteous behavior, but he goes to an extreme.  When the well-being of the visitors is threatened by a lusty, angry hoard of men outside his door, demanding to “have their way” with them, how does Lot respond?  By offering up his daughters to violate instead.  In the text, Lot’s daughters are silent.  We don’t know whether they presented this option to their father for the sake of their guests (highly unlikely), or whether Lot took it upon himself to go to this extreme but, as it stands, Lot condones the violation of his daughters.  As the culture dictated, they were his property to do with as he wished, and he embraced his liberty in this regard.  How is this “righteous?”  Did the author of 2 Peter miss this aspect of the story?

I think Jude showed some editorial prudence here; 2 Peter may have gone too far; not sat back, listened to the text, and paid close enough attention to know where to stop arguing.  In other words, I’m not sure that Lot, in his entirety, helps 2 Peter’s cause.  While in his cultural context, the plight of Lot’s daughters many not have been a significant measure of righteousness, but for us today, he’s gone too far.  Perhaps the outrage-fueled adrenaline rush experienced by the author of 2 Peter prevented him from pausing mid-argument to pay attention to detail; perhaps we have something to learn from him beyond that which he imagined in putting stylus to papyrus, if you will, about the importance of pausing to regroup and reflect even in the process of expressing outrage.

When faced with deeply-entrenched disagreements, we must pause to listen, sincerely, to the sources of authority (text and tradition), and to the arguments of those counter to our point-of-view in order to gain proper perspective, overcome hubris, and, ultimately, to embody those practices of which Jude reminds us in vv. 20-21:  “but you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; look forward to the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life.”

Keep the Faith,

Nancy B. 

 

Suffer the Little Children...(Lesson 7)

If you see your brother or sister committing what is not a mortal sin, you will ask, and God will give life to such a one—to those whose sin is not mortal. There is sin that is mortal; I do not say that you should pray about that. All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that is not mortal. We know that those who are born of God do not sin, but the one who was born of God protects them, and the evil one does not touch them. We know that we are God's children, and that the whole world lies under the power of the evil one (1 John 5:16-19, NRSV).

Children became very “important” in the past 30 years…Children became sort of “luxury items” for people, so it became very important—“MY child is an HONORARY so-and so…” When children became really important as “luxury items,” the parents decided, “let’s make the world ‘baby-safe’ because I don’t want my kid to hit their head on any of these sharp edges.  Well, I’m sorry 'Madam, 'but this world is full of [expl.] sharp edges, and the way that we have agreed to set up this world is that you learn by bumping your head up against sharp objects…You cannot make the world ‘baby-safe.’  You can try to, but is it safe for your kid to go out and not know that there are sharp edges, and learn how to process this information?  Learn how to work it out?  (RuPaul, “Girl on Guy with Aisha Tyler” podcast #57).

1 John makes ample use of the metaphor of Christians as "children of God."  Much of 1 John warns the “children” about sources of danger in a depraved world, yet offers assurance that no harm shall befall them.  Lesson Seven reflects on the concept of childhood, as a metaphor and as lived experience, in antiquity and today.    A bevy of images come to mind, I'm sure, as we reflect on our own childhoods, or when we consider the children that fill our lives as sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, grand- and great-grandchildren, students...  There is little doubt, however, that after December 14th, 2012, our casual musings on the lives of children have taken a poignant, somber, and sorrowful turn in light of the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary that took the lives of 26 innocents.  These are not the only individuals to have been snatched from life so horrifically by gun violence, to be sure.  Their deaths, however, are the ones that have so vividly and so widely captured the attention of people worldwide, and sparked spirited national discussion in the U.S. in particular.  There are _new_ laments, new tears, and new testimonies circulating; I am curious as to how the sounds of these voices resonate with, or add new dimensions of "sound," to old testimonies and ancient truths.  Where IS the power of the Spirit in the midst of atrocity?  How does Christ’s (the Son of God's) broken body serve as a bridge, if at all, to the broken bodies of children slain with such reckless abandon?  As our senses of perspective and equilibrium have been so disrupted by this un-natural disaster, how do we come to understand where, in our surroundings, "truth" resides, and in what values we might find shelter and safety?  Do the words “truth” and “safety” even belong in the same sentence together, or are they too separate and estranged as categories to reconcile?

1 John's author writes the following in the fifth chapter of his letter on the validity of the truth-claims made on behalf of Christ in reconciling humankind to God: 

This is the one who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only but with the water and the blood. And the Spirit is the one that testifies, for the Spirit is the  truth. There are three that testify: the Spirit and the water and the blood, and these three agree (1 John 5:6-8).

In this passage, we recognize the symbols of baptism, the gripping horror of the crucifixion, and the sustaining presence of the Holy Spirit.  Water, blood, the Word made flesh; both the carnal, material world and the divine Spirit intersect, testifying to a deep spiritual truth:  God intends eternal, abundant life for all.  Christians claim the redemptive power of this intersection in the figure of Jesus Christ—the beauty of a life lived in full integrity, the horror of the cross, mixed with glorious promise of eternal life overcoming death—the death of an innocent, at that.  God’s Child bore the extremes of human violence in his body, which was broken for (by) us.

Water continues to testify on our behalf, through the tears of the loved ones who lose children to wanton violence.  Our own eyesight is often clouded by the streams of tears we cry in empathy.  Ironically, it is our ability to hide behind these tears, at times, that blinds us to some deeper, harder truths.  The bold grief that led Veronique Pozner to make a startling decision about the final, public presence of her slain little boy, Noah, challenges us to clear our eyes and collect our tears.  When faced with the decision of how to present Noah’s body prior to his memorial service, she chose for his casket to be open, which revealed not only the tender innocence of his long eyelashes resting gently on cheeks as if fast asleep, but also the gruesome atrocity that, just below those cheeks, under a blanket, was the empty space where his jaw had been.  In his final moments, the world proved a dangerous place for Noah and his classmates.  The gut-wrenching reality of this danger is one that Mrs. Pozner sought to convey to the world through her decision, making it impossible for us to hide behind walls of fantasy and pretense.  Blood had been spilled, and bodies broken.  What remained of Noah testified to this, and to the grotesque extent to which human violence rips bodies, and communities, apart.  It is in these vignettes that we come to understand the nature of “mortal” sin, in all its unspeakable depravity.

As we ponder the culture of violence that contributed to Noah’s body being broken by “us” (with the shooter as a stand-in for all that is broken within the human condition), may we work together, as God’s children, to build a world in which our children stumble upon fewer of its rough edges, dark places, and hidden atrocities.  Perhaps the best places for us to start this work is within ourselves.

Oh, Grow Up! Maturity in 1 Peter 5 (Lesson Six)

Now as an elder myself and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as one who shares in the glory to be revealed, I exhort the elders among you to tend the flock of God that is in your charge, exercising the oversight, not under compulsion but willingly, as God would have you do it—not for sordid gain but eagerly. Do not lord it over those in your charge, but be examples to the flock. And when the chief shepherd appears, you will win the crown of glory that never fades away. In the same way, you who are younger must accept the authority of the elders. And all of you must clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for

‘God opposes the proud,

   but gives grace to the humble’

Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen (1 Peter 5:1-11).

Those familiar with scholarship in areas of counseling, social work, psychotherapy, and education might be wondering, as they've moved through the study, if my approach was in any way influenced by family systems theory.  While I did not employ family systems theory as the skeletal framework for my exploration during the writing process, I have, in hindsight, found some of its basic tenets fascinatingly relevant to some of the biblical passages and insights lifted up in the study.  As I describe some aspects of this theory here (I am indebted to the contemporary work of the Rev. Dr. David Jones, particularly for his lectures on the subject), you will see this as well, I'm sure.

So, what is family systems theory?   Family systems theory serves as a framework for describing how individuals function within larger units, structures, or institutions.  Family systems theory is embraced by many in the field of pastoral counseling as a helpful method of analysis complementary to biblical and theological reflection. One of the most influential U.S. scholars in the field was a psychotherapist named Dr. Murray Bowen, who began applying systems theory in the 1950's to the study of family dynamics. 

Instead of relying on psychological theory alone to analyze human behavior, Dr. Bowen applied aspects of biochemistry to the understanding of human behavior.  He noticed that the ways in which cells mature and develop bore striking similarities to the processes necessary for human psychological development.    He observed that healthy cells maintain good boundaries that have sufficient openings to allow for the intake of nourishment, yet enough rigidity to block out toxins.  Healthy cells are able to mature, grow, and develop self-correcting systems to ensure health (think of your immune system).  Unhealthy cells develop as the results of either over-functioning (becoming too rigid to allow for nourishment) or under-functioning (becoming too open to allow for the infiltration of toxins).

Still with me?  Here's where it gets interesting:  like cells, humans undergo maturation processes as well, and another word for this process is differentiation.  Here are six key features of differentiation for humans (as informed by cellular process and spiritual development):

1) Define one's basic self clearly

2) Capacity to take a stand on an issue

3) Capacity to stay connected and related to all persons in a system, even when taking a stand

4) Ability to manage anxiety non-reactively

5) The courage to make decisions on well-defined, spiritual principles

6) The capacity to regulate or modify one's self-maturity

How does this relate to 1 Peter 5?  Let's apply a close reading to the text as we re-consider the six features of differentiation:

1) Define one's basic self clearly ("Now as an elder myself and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as one who shares in the glory to be revealed...")

2) Capacity to take a stand on an issue ("I exhort the elders among you to tend the flock of God that is in your charge, exercising the oversight, not under compulsion but willingly, as God would have you do it—not for sordid gain but eagerly. Do not lord it over those in your charge, but be examples to the flock.")

3) Capacity to stay connected and related to all persons in a system, even when taking a stand ("Through Silvanus, whom I consider a faithful brother, I have written this short letter to encourage you, and to testify that this is the true grace of God. Stand fast in it. Your sister church in Babylon, chosen together with you, sends you greetings; and so does my son Mark. Greet one another with a kiss of love.  Peace to all of you who are in Christ.")

4) Ability to manage anxiety non-reactively ("Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.")

5) The courage to make decisions on well-defined, spiritual principles ("Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering.")

6) The capacity to regulate or modify one's self-maturity ("In the same way, you who are younger must accept the authority of the elders. And all of you must clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for

‘God opposes the proud,

   but gives grace to the humble.’")

 Isn't this neat?  What the author of 1 Peter describes and exemplifies is spiritual maturity for the sake of the health of the family of God.  Whether or not one occupies an ordained role as elder within the life of a congregation, all are called to embody, or at least aspire to, spiritual maturity.  That this ancient exhortation could relate so well to contemporary conversations on differentiation offers ample food for thought.

 

 

 

What Does Gender Engender?: On "The Ties That Bind" (Lesson 5)

Wives, in the same way, accept the authority of your husbands, so that, even if some of them do not obey the word, they may be won over without a word by their wives’ conduct, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives...Husbands, in the same way, show consideration for your wives in your life together, paying honor to the woman as the weaker sex, since they too are also heirs of the gracious gift of life—so that nothing may hinder your prayers (1 Peter 3:1-2, 7 NRSV).

 

One thing’s for sure:  if you’ve been following along with the study, and/or heard me talk about the study in person, you know that I appreciate a good “churchfolk” joke.  Here’s yet another chestnut: 

A long-married couple wakes up one Saturday morning.  The husband turns to the wife and says, “Honey, how about fixing us a cup of coffee?”  To which the wife responds, “Well, dear, ‘how about’ you fix one for yourself?  Oh, and while you’re at it, fix one for me, too, please.  After all, the Bible says that it’s your job.”

“Oh, really?” asks the husband, skeptically.  “Prove it!”

The husband turns to the nightstand, grabs the study Bible from the bottom shelf, and hands it to the wife.  She begins flipping feverishly through the Old Testament and, after a few moments, her face brightens.  She freezes, her finger fixed on what appears to be the “proof-text,” then declares boldly:

“See?  Here. In Exodus.  In black and white.  It says, ‘He-brews’!”

 

You’re welcome… 

 

What is it that we have come to expect of men, of how they are to, as Acts 17:28 puts it, “live, and move, and have [their] being?”  What have we come to expect of women in this regard?  And what of men and women in relationship?  The author of 1 Peter expresses particular expectations of men and women, more specifically in discussing the dynamics of relationship but also, more generally, surrounding the “essential” nature of men and women.  In his rendering, men are not only naturally inclined, but are called by God to demonstrate dominance and strength (even if it is to be conditioned by honor and respect for wives/women).  Wives, on the other hand, are called to resemble their essentially “weaker” natures as women by living in loving submission to their husbands.  All of which, he asserts, is “fitting in the Lord.”

Sigh.  Really, Peter?

On the matter of “essential” female weakness: 

- One of my closest friends spent over 22 hours in labor for her first child, accepting not even a needle-prick of numbing fluid or painkillers.

- A 14-year-old girl in Afghanistan stood up against the Taliban, asserted her right to seek an education, and received a gunshot wound to the head in retaliation (from which she survived). 

- In the book of Judges from the Hebrew Scriptures, Jael, wife of Heber, took a tent peg and a hammer and drove the peg straight through the temple of her the army general, Sisera.

On the matter of “essential” male dominance and strength: 

- During my school days, I once had a male roommate who ran and hid from a busy little mouse that scurried through the kitchen (leaving “guess who” to address the situation…). 

- An episode of the documentary-style t.v. show Intervention featured the father of a young adult female heroin addict who had neglected her during her teen years when he learned that she had been a victim of rape because he was to afraid to overcome his feelings of awkwardness in her presence. 

- In the gospels, the disciple Peter denied knowing Jesus three times for fear of being associated with an accused criminal.

Here’s the thing:  we know that the essence of female-ness, of being a woman, is not weakness (at least not as a categorical imperative, if you will).  Our experiences of women in the world are filled with profiles in courage, strength, and even, in certain circumstances, dominance.  To pretend otherwise is to lie to ourselves, and to deny our Maker, who endows us with such qualities.  Even as 1 Peter takes great pains to mount a case for conformity to gender roles, the female exemplar from the Hebrew Scriptures he commends to women, Sarah, is portrayed in those scriptures as one of the most “uppity” women in the Bible. 

We also know that the default value of male-ness need not be strength through dominance.  Our experiences of men in the world are filled with positive examples of mutuality, humility, and even, in certain circumstances, submission (though, admittedly, the latter is a bit more difficult name off-the-cuff, unless you focus on examples of submission to God or a higher spiritual power; the sweeping popularity of the book Fifty Shades of Grey probably speaks to another dimension of submission that I have absolutely zero interest in exploring here).

1 Peter celebrates a God who transforms and transcends all earthy powers, the one who calls us, as it states in 1 Pt. 1:22, to “have genuine mutual love” and to “love one another deeply from the heart.”  The message appeals to all to demonstrate, “unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind” (1 Pt. 3:8).  It is unfortunate, I think, that this emphasis on mutual love is not so expansive in 1 Peter’s vision to overtly dismantle the gender- and role-specific language of domination and submission.  Or, perhaps it may be more accurate to lament the fact that the interpretation of these scriptures over the centuries has been so focused on these patterns that the message of mutuality has been muted or even suffocated. 

Too often, when men express vulnerability, they are derided as weak and non-masculine, and too often, when women demonstrate power and assertiveness, they are shamed as uncouth outliers.  One of the many wonders of human creation is that God breathed the capacities for all of these qualities into the bodies of male and female, working through women and men in ways both expected and unexpected.

I’m intrigued by a quote from the podcast “On Being: with Krista Tippett,” in which social scientist Brene Brown speaks on vulnerability and gender: 

If you show me a woman who can sit with a man in real vulnerability and deep fear and be with him in it, I will show you a woman who has a) done her [emotional] homework and b) does not derive her power from that man.  And if you show me a man who can sit with a woman in deep struggle and vulnerability and not try to “fix it,” but just hear her and be with her and hold space for it, I will show you a man who has done his work and doesn’t derive his power from controlling and fixing everything.

 If that doesn’t encapsulate the possibilities of 1 Peter 3:8, then I don’t know what does…

 Ultimately, be we male or female, or otherwise, each of our greatest sources of power comes from our vulnerability to God, in whom “we live, and move, and have our being.”  No matter who pours the coffee, or rids the house of vermin, or “prattles” on about feelings, or offers the steady shoulder on which to cry (since, really, more than any other time in human history, many of us get to choose who gets to do these things in our relationships), all are called and expected to serve as vessels of God’s gracious love through Christ, so that the banality of “what is” may be transformed into the category-exploding, life-giving freedom of “what shall be.”

Keep the Faith,

Nancy B.

P.S. – Here is a link to an interesting article on the significant changes that the institution of marriage has undergone throughout millennia called, “Traditional Marriage:  One Man, Many Women, Some Girls, Some Slaves,” by Jay Michaelson—

http://www.religiondispatches.org/archive/sexandgender/5989/traditional_marriage%3A_one_man,_many_women,_some_girls,_some_slaves/

 

Chains, Challenges, and Change

For the Lord’s sake accept the authority of every human institution,whether of the emperor as supreme, or of governors, as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing right you should silence the ignorance of the foolish. As servants of God, live as free people, yet do not use your freedom as a pretext for evil. Honour everyone. Love the family of believers. Fear God. Honour the emperor.

 Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh. For it is to your credit if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, where is the credit in that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval (1 Peter 2:13-20 (NRSV)).

So, Lesson Four, “The Help,” brings us to one of those “tough” passages in the General Epistles.  If you managed to undertake reading all of 1 Peter by this point, then you will know, ahead of time, that there are seeds of hope for mutual partnership and equality to which the letter’s author points (no matter how subtly) in 1 Peter 3:8-22.  In fact, we will draw a connection to that message and the “household codes” that precede it in Lesson 5, “The Ties That Bind.”  As we encounter the passages for Lesson Four, however, we are not left with an obviously happy ending or thoroughly satisfying resolution to a major problem—what to make of a scripture that refuses to speak out against abuses of power in earthly institutions.

Sure, we may be quick to gloss over the implications of what 1 Peter 2 advises as antiquated or irrelevant (“we don’t have slavery in this country anymore, so it doesn’t apply to us;”  “Jesus just wants everyone to be free—after all, that’s the overall message of the Bible, ultimately;” or, “well, all that slavery-talk is just a metaphor—no one expects it to be applied to human affairs;” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…) Lest we be tempted to rest on those assumptions, I submit the following for your consideration:

Slavery was cruel, but as a result of slavery, we have African-Americans living in this country today who are living here in situations that are probably much better to endure than if they were living in Sub-Saharan Africa. If you had the choice knowing the lifestyle of people living in Africa and knowing the lifestyle of people living in the United States, which would you choose? Pure and simple.

--Arkansas Republican State Representative Jon Hubbard (in an interview with the Jonesboro Sun; source: http://talkbusiness.net/2012/10/hubbards-new-press-statements-present-more-problems-for-arkansas-gop/)

... If slavery were so God-awful, why didn’t Jesus or Paul condemn it, why was it in the Constitution and why wasn’t there a war before 1861?  The South has always stood by the Constitution and limited government. When one attacks the Confederate Battle Flag, he is certainly denouncing these principles of government as well as Christianity.

--Arkansas Republican State Representative Loy March (in a letter to the editor in the Arkansas Democrat Gazette; source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/08/loy-mauch-arkansas-slavery_n_1948717.html)

Clearly, even in the 21^st century, not everyone has “gotten the memo” on the fundamentally anti-Christian nature of the institution of slavery.  (What is more, given that we are approaching Election Day in the United States, how vexing it is to stomach the notion that some of our civic leaders, whom we are called to honor, uphold such horrendous views).  Sadly, across the globe, slavery is alive and well, even today.  Even in the United States.  You may recognize it by its current definition:  human trafficking.  Perhaps you have seen the following bulletin insert on this devastating global phenomenon:

Coupled by the existence of actual institutions of enslavement is, of course, the variety of metaphorical sources of slavery that plague individuals today: crushing financial debts, addictions, abusive relationships, and the like. 

 How might we, in tangible ways, bear witness to sources of freedom and hope, even as we are challenged by the scriptures in Lesson Four to obey those powers responsible for human bondage?  What might be an apt “take-away” activity to engage as a part of our Bible studies, given the complexities involved?  Along with the meaningful exercises lifted up by Magdalena Garcia in the “Suggestions for Leaders,” I offer a suggestion for an activity rooted in the process of prayer as spiritual formation.  Inspired by an exercise introduced by pastors Amy Meyer and Caryn Thurman at a Bible Study Conference at Mo-Ranch last summer that involved crafting paper chains to remind us of our binds to Christ and to one another, I have imagined another activity making use of paper chains to use in tandem with Lesson Four that may bear witness to the liberating impulse of the Holy Spirit in the midst of those bound by what “chains” them.  I call it “Praying Loose the Chains”:

- Cut strips of paper roughly the size of a standard bookmark, and enough for each circle participant to have at least one strip
- Invite the participants to name something that keeps people in chains today, and to write it on their strips (someone may name "poverty," or “addiction," or "hunger," or "hopelessness," etc.)
- Have each participant link the strips, one to another, to make one long chain (similar to paper chains made to hang on Christmas trees, for example)
- As a prayer exercise, invite an individual to pray a prayer of intercession to God, asking God to break each chain (reading the word on each strip). As that person is praying, (s)he should rip apart the chain, thus symbolizing God's liberating work in breaking the chains of the things that bind us to hurtful and harmful things.

May our prayers to release us from what binds us to deathly influences lead us to life-giving actions in response to deep needs in our lives and in the lives of others.  Amen.

 

 

 

Household Matters: A Spiritual Blueprint

Household Matters and Hospitality: “A Spiritual Blueprint”

Come to God, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, and to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:4-5 (NRSV)).

There is a relatively popular television show called “Divine Design,” in which the host demonstrates her remarkable skill in re-vamping uninspired rooms into masterpieces of interior design.  Our General Epistle authors, too, (especially 1 Peter’s author) demonstrate good “eyes for design,” but in an entirely different and infinitely more important arena: the design of the Christian life—real “Divine design!”  1 Peter bears witness to God’s work in the world in bringing believers together to build a holy community that is greater than the sum of its parts.  As I read 1 Peter 2:1-10, I imagine the author surveying God’s artistry of transformation unfolding within the lives of house churches: from the gutting of rotten, crumbling boards of “guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander,” to the masonry of holiness, self-sacrifice, and mercy. 

The phrase that jumps out at me related to this passage is verse five’s “let yourselves be built.”  The author could have written, “build yourselves;” in fact, I’m sure many of us are tempted to think it should  have been written “build yourselves,” but it wasn’t.  It says, clearly “let yourselves be built” (some ancient manuscripts also state, “you yourselves are being built”).  Could it really be the case that true holiness requires not industriousness, but surrender?  In a word, yes.  1 Peter reaffirms that this spiritual household construction project, if you will, is only successful because God is in control.  How often do we find ourselves today living and acting as if we are the chief agents of holiness?  As if we generate the grace that allows the church to grow?  When we rely on the products of our own willpower to manufacture our sense of self-worth, we too often crumble under the weight of crushed expectations and unfulfilled intentions.  The fruit of such labor is not “living stone;” it is simply dead weight.

What unfolds in this passage is an example of the dynamic between, what a colleague of mine has deemed, “true grace” and “true grit.”  On the one hand, it is to recognize the truth written in another New Testament letter, Ephesians 2:8: “for it is by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing:  it is the gift of God.”  On the other hand, it is the determination to bear the fruit of God’s grace through one’s actions and disposition:  “beloved, do not imitate what is evil but imitate what is good” (1 John 11a).  Simply put:  we are called to celebrate the grace of God’s transformative work and to demonstrate its effects in all aspects of life.

Which brings me to the concept behind the “Spiritual Blueprint” illustration I’ve designed.  If we, as “living stones,” are being built together into a divine inhabitation, and if we, as each individual stone, contain the stuff from which such a structure is made, then it is worthwhile for us to pay attention to how we are being built.  Can you see the marks of God’s design at work in your circles, your congregations, your homes, your workplaces, your neighborhoods, your families, or even yourselves?  I invite you to make use of this illustration as a devotional exercise through which you may identify, room by room, if you will, the ways in which God is building you into a “spiritual house,” and/or the ways in which you bear witness to through word or deed to God’s grace-filled “construction project.”  I’ve completed a blueprint below filled with examples in the life of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.); I look forward to seeing the ways in which you chart evidence of God’s work in your midst as well!

Fatherhood: Pain and Promise

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead…(1 Peter 1:3-4, NRSV)

When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to [Jesus], ‘Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.’ He said to them, ‘Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’ But they did not understand what he said to them (Luke 2:48-50).

‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done’ (Luke 22:42).

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matthew 27:45-46)

I stumbled upon some old files in my sermon archive, only to find a reflection I’d offered during the Lenten season some years ago on Luke 2: 48-50, and Matthew. 27:45-46.  Interestingly enough, many of those themes relate to the scriptures and concepts explored in  Lesson Two: Fatherhood (especially with regard to the questions surrounding God as "Paterfamilias").  Therefore, I offer here excerpts from that sermon, My Father’s Child:

Ever sit and wonder, I mean really wonder, what Jesus looked like?  This is a particularly fascinating question if you’re a believer in the Immaculate Conception.  How would God’s DNA contribute to the physical appearance of Jesus (and how the heck can God have DNA, anyway)?  If God the Father’s features can’t register on a human face, then did Jesus grow up to look just like Mary with facial hair and an Adam’s apple?  Could Jesus look at his reflection in a pool of water, point to his nose or his teeth, and marvel, “Whew—thank God I got my Dad’s genes!?”

What we know (and, from the Gospels, hints of what Jesus knew) about the marks of God present in Jesus are his miraculous works, his vast knowledge of scripture, his wise teachings, and the ponderous burden of a death sentence granted, or at least endorsed, by his own parent.…  I’m convinced that the true essence of our faith journey this [Lenten] season, and every season, is not simply to aspire to reverence but also, in a spirit of humility, to find points of connection between Jesus’ earthly experiences and our own.  My connecting points lie in the elements of pain and absence as parts of my relationship to my father.

I received from my father: his eyebrows, his cheekbones, my last name, the possibility of dual citizenship—oh yeah, and on my fifth birthday, after playing outside with my newly-unwrapped “Whoopsie Daisy” doll and Homer harmonica, his telephone greeting of “Happy Birthday, Nancy Jean.”  That’s about it.  His absence was his greatest presence (and, for my mother’s sake, his greatest present). 

The knowledge I have about Louis “Joko” Benson-Nicol Jr. is scanty.  A few details: the  youngest of four children, he immigrated to the U.S. from Liberia in his early 20’s.  Louis himself had a brilliant mind for engineering and great potential, but didn’t have the capacity to develop it.  Instead, he distracted himself with drugs and abused my mother, who thankfully had the sense of self and spiritual reserve to divorce him hastily.

Though I’ve become a productive member of society even as a survivor of abandonment, I’m reluctant to qualify being estranged from half of my identity as “good.”  It has haunted me, at times in my life, to wonder if Louis’ personal dysfunction might appear in me as inevitably as his cheekbones—that the aura of his personal demons might intrude upon me like some sad-sack spirit from [the movie] “The Sixth Sense.” 

The aura of Jesus’ imminent death not only haunted him—it came to pass.  Being “about his Father’s business” meant, among other things, being about his own annihilation.  Possibly, he hoped that the divinity within him would spare his body the pain of a violent death, but it didn’t—it hurt.  It was excruciating pain.  And it took some time for the pain to end.  I wonder what aspect of Jesus’ pain penetrated more deeply—the physical torture countenanced during the Crucifixion, or the emotional anguish of feeling abandoned by God the Father.  Into the hands of the same One who willed, (or allowed) his death, Jesus committed his spirit.  No matter what the cost of being the Son, he clung to the claims that his Father held on him when he hung on a cross.  I’m suspended in a state of wonder as to the relationship between Jesus’ punishment and the gift of salvation.  Is Jesus the Christian conduit of salvation because of his suffering or in spite of it?  Or both? 

Think, for just a moment, about the kaliedescope of experiences you’ve undergone.  Think particularly about moments of suffering or pain.  Would you trade them in, or retain them?  Can you image yourself as the person you are now without them?  As for me, I am my father’s child, unclaimed, and that will never change (were this not the case, I may not have become a person as driven to overcome obstacles as I am today...).  But I am my Father’s (capital F) child, claimed, because Jesus mustered the courage to fulfill his Father’s will.  And, in the end, he triumphed.  That such gross dysfunction could serve the greatest ultimate function is a paradox too vast for me to contain; but, in my own small, small way, I can relate to notion of promise in the midst of pain.  And maybe that’s the point for me.  Wherein might lie “the point” for you?

My earthly father was not God, and I am not my father.  I draw strength from Jesus’ victory over death through the resurrection as a testament to his Godliness, his ability to bear resemblance to his Father as the Giver of life, and therefore cradle myself in the knowledge that I am not inevitably doomed to replicate the failings of my very human, very flawed father.  The pain of death God allowed Jesus to undergo resulted in the celebration of life for all.  God has a claim on life that supersedes surnames and surface features.  I can relate to Jesus because of the pain inherent in his connection to, and even distance from, his Father.  I can worship Jesus because of his glorious triumph in the face of this pain, and receive his triumph as my own. That is,in fact, the gift of life that God intends for all God’s children.   God the Father’s infinite plan resides not in pain but in life everlasting—Thanks be to God!

"Family Ties"

From the Elder, To the chosen one and her children, whom I love in the truth—and not only I, but also all who have come to know the truth—because of the truth that lives in us and is with us forever:

May grace, mercy, and peace be with you in truth and love, from God our Creator and from Jesus Christ, God’s Only Begotten

There are many things I have to tell you, but I choose not to use paper and ink. Rather, I choose to visit you and talk to you personally so that our joy may be complete.

The children of your chosen sister send you their greetings (2 John 1–3, 12–13).*

 

To My Sisters and Brothers,

Hot Springs. Prairie Village. Stony Point. Montreat. Massanetta Springs. Huntsville. Princeton. Orlando. Mo Ranch . . . Since the end of April, I have traveled to many places to meet face-to-face with women and men preparing themselves (and others) to dig into the General Epistles with the help of Dispatches to God’s Household. There are many more faces, over the year, that I will have the pleasure of greeting as well. The experience of travel adds so much to my curiosity about what the early church evangelists underwent as they spread the Good News throughout Asia Minor. When they began their travels to distant lands to share the message of salvation through Jesus Christ with strangers, were they nervous about the “cold call,” dropping in on homes and villages unexpected? Or was the urgency of their message sufficiently powerful to overshadow any jittery feelings? Would concern about the “word on the street” in areas where their reputations preceded them have occupied their thoughts? Did they anticipate any of the fears, joys, concerns, and questions that affected each of the communities, and did they feel confident that they could address them?

Based on the affectionate and affirming tone communicated throughout each of these epistles, it appears that the messages and the messengers were received warmly, and that “family ties” were established firmly; so much so, in fact, that in the cases of the authors of 2 John and 3 John, the authors longed to see the believers “face-to-face,” preferring the gratification of in-person communication over the greater distance and separation that written correspondence, by nature, represents. Given the popularity of blogging and social networking sites (not to mention the fact that I have crafted and posted this digital message), we continue to strive to find ways to connect with one another in the most immediate ways possible, despite our physical distances.

Communication is the glue of human relationships, be it among families, teams, organizations, congregations, even PW circles. Within the Epistles, at least two forms of communication are named: written and face-to-face. Other methods of communication exist, of course, and we practice them all the time: nonverbal (body language, facial expressions); visual (creative and performing arts); aural (music and speech), to name a few. Some people claim skills and abilities in extrasensory communication, or a special connection to the mystical realm. Perhaps it is this level of communication that is described in 1 Peter 1 with regard to the prophets of ancient Israel:

This is the salvation the prophets were looking for and searching for so carefully; their prophecies were about the grace which has come to you. The Spirit of Christ which was in them foretold the sufferings of Christ, and the glories that would come after those sufferings. They tried to find out at what time and in what circumstances all this was to happen. However, it was revealed to them that the news they brought—regarding all the things that have now been announced to you by those who proclaimed the Good News, through the Holy Spirit who was sent from heaven—was for you and not for themselves. Even the angels long to catch a glimpse of such things (1 Peter 1:10–12).

One of the sustaining graces of belonging to God’s household, as believers in Christ, is its extraordinary power to unite God’s children across so many differences and despite so many obstacles. As the early evangelists yearned to join sister and brother believers in person, they maintained relationships still by virtue of written communication, and, essentially, poured their hearts out on their pages. Beyond the sense of the present Spirit in their words, they communicated the presence of their ancestors and united them across time and space with the prophets’ deepest yearnings on their behalf. We, so far removed from our early church ancestors in Asia Minor by distances of time and space, are grafted into relationship with them as we read and receive these letters in our scriptural canon.

Many lessons present themselves on how to “speak the truth in love” throughout each of the General Epistles, and we will encounter them as we journey throughout the nine lessons of the Horizons Bible study. Even in places within the text that challenge or defy description as loving words, the abiding witness of the Holy Spirit in moving us through pain to the healing balm of love, prevails. For us, as Presbyterians, as Christians, or as curious spiritual pilgrims stumbling upon a study of the General Epistles at (as Mordecai in the book of Esther so famously states) “such a time as this,” it is no mistake that we are called to consider the ways in which we are tied to one another as God’s children, especially as we squabble, squirm, and struggle to even be civil with one another in the midst of our deep differences. To be mindful of the quality of our communication is our crucial calling.

Who knows—we may be laboring for the benefit of others thousands of years after us as we overcome the boundaries that separate us today!

Keep the faith,

Nancy B.

PS: For those of you seeking the “shortcut” version of the scripture passages assigned for Lesson One, they are: 1 Peter 1:1–2, 5:12–14; 2 Peter 1:1–3, 3:14–18; 1 John 1:1–4, 5:13–21.

PPS: For those of you looking for a link to downloadable resources in support of Dispatches to God’s Household: The General Epistles, click here.

* Priests for Equality, The Inclusive Bible: The First Egalitarian Translation (Government Institutes, 2007).