PAUL AMONG THE PEOPLE: The Apostle Reinterpreted and Reimagined In His Own Time
By Sarah Ruden
Pantheon, 2010
ISBN 978-0-375-42501-1
194 pages
A Review by George R. Pasley
My local librarian recommended this book to me after I wrote a poem about “thorns in the flesh,” a reference to one of the Apostle Paul’s personal experiences. I am glad she made the recommendation. It was on the shelves at our local library, but I intend to purchase my own copy forthwith.
Ruden is a scholar and a Christian (Quaker) but not a biblical scholar, even though at the time of the books publication she was a research fellow at Yale Divinity. Rather, she is a scholar of Greek Literature, and brings her knowledge of language (Latin and Greek, both classical and Koinonia) and culture to the interpretation of Paul’s New Testament epistles.
Specifically, her aim is to interpret them as they would have been heard by the Greco-Roman culture but her interpretation is powerful in our time.
Though her work is scholarly it is also personal and as such each chapter, and the corpus, is a powerful sermon.
The first chapter serves as a bit of introduction, with six chapters following that deal with pleasure, homosexuality, women (and marriage), Christians and government, slavery and love. Actually, the first chapter is a bit more than introduction- it sets the case that Ruden has figured out that the socially-conscious church is not an invention of modern times, but is present with Paul’s letters to Christians.
Ruden brings formidable translation skills to her work, and they are most evident in the chapter on pleasure, where she works through Paul’s lists of works of the flesh and fruits of the spirit. Especially helpful is her summary of Paul’s use of Sarx (Greek for flesh). “Paul’s point is not that the body or nature is bad and the mind or spirit good. It is about two ways of using the body, the one for a life that is worth living forever, and the other for a life that is as good as death in the short time before it vanishes.” (p. 41)
Homosexuality being a subject of strong division within the church today, Ruden deals with it rather thoroughly. Yes, it was a sin in Paul’s Jewish faith (though Paul set aside other Jewish things), but that is not what Ruden notices with what Paul says about homosexuality. First, she notes the pervasiveness of homosexuality in the Greco-Roman culture as an abusive practice. Her examples from Greek literature are quite numerous, and bawdy. But she makes her point: abusive sex was rampant, but the stigma was on the passive partner- victim- and not the aggressive partner, which was almost everybody (or so it seems). Linguistically she points out that Paul’s condemnation is to both partners, a novel thought in those days, and then she makes a final translation revelation: the word most often translated as “wickedness” would have been understood among the Greeks as “Injustice,” which paired with”ungodliness” in itself was a rather novel concept since there was no “thoroughly just god in their traditional pantheon” (p. 69) Ruden concludes:
“Paul’s Roman audience knew what justice was, if only through missing it. They would have been surprised to hear that justice applied to homosexuality, of all things. But many of them- slaves, freedmen, the poor, the young- would have understood in the next instant. Christ, the only Son of God, gave his body to save mankind. What greater contrast could there be to the tradition of using a weaker body for selfish pleasure or a power trip? Among Christians, there would have been no quibbling about what to do: no one would have imagined homosexuality’s being different than it was, it would have to go. And tolerance for it did disappear from the church.” (p. 71)
In effect, Paul’s ban on homosexual practice was an act of justice, not holiness.
I had to wonder about the accuracy of Ruden’s depiction of the rampant nature of sexual abuse in those times, until I watched a documentary on sex trafficking in our time. Considering that it is as rampant as it is, even in a so-called Christian nation, it is no longer hard for me to imagine widespread abuse in ancient times.
In the same effective manner Ruden deals with various issues regarding women (having their heads covered was an act of justice that lifted up the poor, non-ladies< to the same status as the most respected women)
Particularly moving is Ruden’s treatment of the book of Philemon (which has some sharp criticism for Crossan!). Paul was most definitely not asking Philemon to set Onesimus free. But what he was saying that Philemon would do, if he kept in mind what God has done for us, was even more radical: Forgive him, and treat him as a brother. In our time that seems quaint and easy, but it was most definitely counter-cultural, radical, and revolutionary in Philemon’s day. On pages 165 and 166 Ruden has a list of 14 things that Paul is doing and that Philemon ought to do that are completely at cross-currents with the culture.
One might be amused to find the love chapter included in a book that helps us to re-imagine Paul, but indeed the last chapter, on Paul and Love, is also very helpful. For one, Ruden emphasizes that agape was relatively unused outside of Christianity, that people in the Roman world only gave things to get things. But there is more.
Ruden emphasizes the verb nature of love, with a very helpful literal translation and little chart that shows how Paul new verbs out of three adjectives: kind, boastful and arrogant. Love is not a feeling, it’s a verb, and we need to DO things.
Which of course is hard, nay, impossible? But in a way that becomes quite personal, Ruden shows how Paul’s reference to himself as a child (Unheard of in ancient literature) helped her to realize that Love is something that is outside of us, doing for us, leading us, helping us to love as love does.
George R. Pasley
August 9, 2010
Ketchikan AK
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Monday, August 9, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
BLAMELESS
BLAMELESS
By Thom Lemmons
WaterBrook Press, 2007
Review by George R. Pasley
I’ve only once before read a modern Christian novel and was not disappointed, but still I haven’t gone looking for more. I found this one by accident, and it’s premise of being a retelling of the book of Job intrigued me.
It was well done, a romance about two college professors who have been hurt in love before, and are afraid of the consequences of falling in love. The basic plot line was parallel to the plot of the biblical book of Job, but even though there was a preacher in the story, and references to the question of undeserved suffering, one wouldn’t know it was Christian in nature without the “Note to Readers” posted by the author at the end.
Lemmons’ main character was Joe Barnes, a professor with a mysterious past. In the course of one horrible week he lost his job and his reputation, with little hope of finding a replacement for either one of them. His new-found romantic interest is the Dean of Humanities, who could rescue his reputation, but he chooses not to ask her, preferring instead to hope for her love.
The dean, Alexis, discerns that he indeed does love her, but does not step in when by virtue of her authority she could save his reputation. Instead, when she ahs complete freedom to do so, she saves his reputation by demanding that other parties involved tell the truth.
How she did that was a plot twist that I loved. Not a complicated read, but a book that manages to provide a thoughtful definition of what it might mean to be loved by God, and to love in return.
July 30, 2010
By Thom Lemmons
WaterBrook Press, 2007
Review by George R. Pasley
I’ve only once before read a modern Christian novel and was not disappointed, but still I haven’t gone looking for more. I found this one by accident, and it’s premise of being a retelling of the book of Job intrigued me.
It was well done, a romance about two college professors who have been hurt in love before, and are afraid of the consequences of falling in love. The basic plot line was parallel to the plot of the biblical book of Job, but even though there was a preacher in the story, and references to the question of undeserved suffering, one wouldn’t know it was Christian in nature without the “Note to Readers” posted by the author at the end.
Lemmons’ main character was Joe Barnes, a professor with a mysterious past. In the course of one horrible week he lost his job and his reputation, with little hope of finding a replacement for either one of them. His new-found romantic interest is the Dean of Humanities, who could rescue his reputation, but he chooses not to ask her, preferring instead to hope for her love.
The dean, Alexis, discerns that he indeed does love her, but does not step in when by virtue of her authority she could save his reputation. Instead, when she ahs complete freedom to do so, she saves his reputation by demanding that other parties involved tell the truth.
How she did that was a plot twist that I loved. Not a complicated read, but a book that manages to provide a thoughtful definition of what it might mean to be loved by God, and to love in return.
July 30, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
BREAKING THE MISSIONAL CODE
Ed Stetzer and David Putnam, authors
Broadman & Holman, 2006
Review by George Pasley
Over the last few years I’ve read a number of books on evangelism and reaching the unchurched. “Breaking the Missional Code” is my favorite this far. I read it last fall and marked it up with notes, underlines, highlights and questions, then skimmed it again and re-read several chapters to reinforce and revisit my earlier thoughts.
I like it primarily for two reasons: One, it does not insist that a certain theological perspective is necessary for evangelistic success. There are some books out there that do, and they seem more aimed at proving their point than helping you introduce people to Jesus. “Breaking the Missional Code” does say “we must take the Bible seriously” and does reference a theology that does not compromise faith, but it leaves room for considerable differences and it does not overwhelm the reader with its bias.
Second, “Breaking the Missional Code” repeatedly makes list of key points, making it easy to understand and easy to apply.
In particular, page 81 lists four questions we need to ask before setting out on evangelism: 1) where are the unchurched/unreached? 2) Who are the unchurched/unreached? 3) Why are they unchurched/unreached? 4) What is God already doing among the unchurched/unreached? (I found the 4th question especially significant).
These lists are found in most every chapter but others that I found helpful were on page 102, barriers to helping seekers understand and feel safe in worship; page 103, list of important assumptions to make about engaging people in a meaningful way; and page 128, patterns for spiritual formation.
Regarding barriers to worship, I like the way they recognized that even though seekers and believers are looking for different things in worship, and that tension will exist between serving both groups, we all need to worship together to experience the Christian community.
Key principals the book lifts up: 1) North America is a poly cultural context, with many cultures being micro-cultures in a local community. If we want to reach people with our message we need to find them, get to know them, and deliver our message in a way they will understand. 2) Many persons are spiritually receptive but not familiar with Christianity. 3) Discipleship now begins before conversion as people need to experience and participate in the Gospel before committing to it. 4) Evangelism is now relational instead of propositional. 5) Evangelism will require patience since much of it is more about sowing seeds rather than harvesting.
I also like the book because it is, by definition, adaptable. Every culture and context is different. Though the book seems written by persons more familiar with locales of growing populations, it could easily be adapted to other contexts, such as my won, where populations are not growing but the numbers of unchurched persons ARE growing.
While reading the book I occasionally noted questions or critiques, only to have them answered a bit later. My most serious critique is that it emanations “servant evangelism” but them passes it by as if it were insignificant or nor worth pursuing, but perhaps it is only “beside the point.”
Broadman & Holman, 2006
Review by George Pasley
Over the last few years I’ve read a number of books on evangelism and reaching the unchurched. “Breaking the Missional Code” is my favorite this far. I read it last fall and marked it up with notes, underlines, highlights and questions, then skimmed it again and re-read several chapters to reinforce and revisit my earlier thoughts.
I like it primarily for two reasons: One, it does not insist that a certain theological perspective is necessary for evangelistic success. There are some books out there that do, and they seem more aimed at proving their point than helping you introduce people to Jesus. “Breaking the Missional Code” does say “we must take the Bible seriously” and does reference a theology that does not compromise faith, but it leaves room for considerable differences and it does not overwhelm the reader with its bias.
Second, “Breaking the Missional Code” repeatedly makes list of key points, making it easy to understand and easy to apply.
In particular, page 81 lists four questions we need to ask before setting out on evangelism: 1) where are the unchurched/unreached? 2) Who are the unchurched/unreached? 3) Why are they unchurched/unreached? 4) What is God already doing among the unchurched/unreached? (I found the 4th question especially significant).
These lists are found in most every chapter but others that I found helpful were on page 102, barriers to helping seekers understand and feel safe in worship; page 103, list of important assumptions to make about engaging people in a meaningful way; and page 128, patterns for spiritual formation.
Regarding barriers to worship, I like the way they recognized that even though seekers and believers are looking for different things in worship, and that tension will exist between serving both groups, we all need to worship together to experience the Christian community.
Key principals the book lifts up: 1) North America is a poly cultural context, with many cultures being micro-cultures in a local community. If we want to reach people with our message we need to find them, get to know them, and deliver our message in a way they will understand. 2) Many persons are spiritually receptive but not familiar with Christianity. 3) Discipleship now begins before conversion as people need to experience and participate in the Gospel before committing to it. 4) Evangelism is now relational instead of propositional. 5) Evangelism will require patience since much of it is more about sowing seeds rather than harvesting.
I also like the book because it is, by definition, adaptable. Every culture and context is different. Though the book seems written by persons more familiar with locales of growing populations, it could easily be adapted to other contexts, such as my won, where populations are not growing but the numbers of unchurched persons ARE growing.
While reading the book I occasionally noted questions or critiques, only to have them answered a bit later. My most serious critique is that it emanations “servant evangelism” but them passes it by as if it were insignificant or nor worth pursuing, but perhaps it is only “beside the point.”
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
NOT THE RELIGIOUS TYPE
NOT THE RELIGIOUS TYPE
By Dave Schmelzer
Tyndale, 2008
ISBN 978-1-4143-1583-6
Review by George Pasley
Author Dave Schmelzer is the pastor of a new and rapidly growing church in the Harvard neighborhood of Cambridge, Massachusetts. This little book offers, part by way of personal testimony and part by way of apologetics, an introduction to Christian faith to modern Americans who might consider themselves educated skeptics.
I found it very readable, very persuasive, and invitational. It was neither dogmatic nor polemic. In fact, I finished the book thinking that Schmelzer might be as liberal, theological speaking, than me (though that was only a suspicion- he doesn’t offer any proof of that) but that he is definitely more pious.
Schmelzer’s testimony is the story of how he came to faith, moving from proclaimed atheist to follower of Jesus, while he was a college student. The transformation came as a result of his prayers in search of a God who was concerned about his (David’s) well-being, followed by serious study of the major religions. Thus Schmelzer’s proclaimed faith is one that is all about personal relationship with Jesus, made vibrant by prayer.
But Schmelzer hangs his personal testimony on M. Scott Peck’s four-stage theory of human spiritual and emotional development (which can be found in Peck’s Further Along the Road Less Traveled). Schmelzer neatly summarizes Peck’s theory, and points out that most churches are filled with stage two people, which Schmelzer calls “rules based” (p. 20). “These are the good people who get things done and raise strong families.” (p. 21)
Schmelzer describes stage 3 as the “rebellious stage,” a stage where people ask questions, and says that universities- and even whole societies- are filled with these types. Stage twos and stage threes mistrust each other, for obvious reasons.
But Peck says that stage 3 is in fact a spiritual progression from stage 2, primarily because of the courage to ask questions. Schmelzer grabs this notion and runs with it, but not before admitting that the notion has limitations and can be misunderstood. Then, Schmelzer gets to the great theme of his book: “What stage 3 people usually don’t realize is that there is a stage 4, that there actually are answers to the questions they’ve been answering. You might call this the mystical stage. Here, one suddenly realizes that most of the things we were taught in stage 2 are, in fact, true, but in a richer and more mysterious sense than we would have, or could have, imagined.” (p. 23)
Around this theme of journey from questions to answers rich with mystery, Schmelzer tells stories of his faith and his congregation. Regarding the stories, I personally appreciate the humility with which Schmelzer tells them. He recognizes both the uniqueness of his journey and the inconsistencies of it.
This would be a great book for group discussion, or a good introduction to faith for seekers and inquirers. It might also move some stage two persons as well.
Ketchikan, AK
July 15, 2009
By Dave Schmelzer
Tyndale, 2008
ISBN 978-1-4143-1583-6
Review by George Pasley
Author Dave Schmelzer is the pastor of a new and rapidly growing church in the Harvard neighborhood of Cambridge, Massachusetts. This little book offers, part by way of personal testimony and part by way of apologetics, an introduction to Christian faith to modern Americans who might consider themselves educated skeptics.
I found it very readable, very persuasive, and invitational. It was neither dogmatic nor polemic. In fact, I finished the book thinking that Schmelzer might be as liberal, theological speaking, than me (though that was only a suspicion- he doesn’t offer any proof of that) but that he is definitely more pious.
Schmelzer’s testimony is the story of how he came to faith, moving from proclaimed atheist to follower of Jesus, while he was a college student. The transformation came as a result of his prayers in search of a God who was concerned about his (David’s) well-being, followed by serious study of the major religions. Thus Schmelzer’s proclaimed faith is one that is all about personal relationship with Jesus, made vibrant by prayer.
But Schmelzer hangs his personal testimony on M. Scott Peck’s four-stage theory of human spiritual and emotional development (which can be found in Peck’s Further Along the Road Less Traveled). Schmelzer neatly summarizes Peck’s theory, and points out that most churches are filled with stage two people, which Schmelzer calls “rules based” (p. 20). “These are the good people who get things done and raise strong families.” (p. 21)
Schmelzer describes stage 3 as the “rebellious stage,” a stage where people ask questions, and says that universities- and even whole societies- are filled with these types. Stage twos and stage threes mistrust each other, for obvious reasons.
But Peck says that stage 3 is in fact a spiritual progression from stage 2, primarily because of the courage to ask questions. Schmelzer grabs this notion and runs with it, but not before admitting that the notion has limitations and can be misunderstood. Then, Schmelzer gets to the great theme of his book: “What stage 3 people usually don’t realize is that there is a stage 4, that there actually are answers to the questions they’ve been answering. You might call this the mystical stage. Here, one suddenly realizes that most of the things we were taught in stage 2 are, in fact, true, but in a richer and more mysterious sense than we would have, or could have, imagined.” (p. 23)
Around this theme of journey from questions to answers rich with mystery, Schmelzer tells stories of his faith and his congregation. Regarding the stories, I personally appreciate the humility with which Schmelzer tells them. He recognizes both the uniqueness of his journey and the inconsistencies of it.
This would be a great book for group discussion, or a good introduction to faith for seekers and inquirers. It might also move some stage two persons as well.
Ketchikan, AK
July 15, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
HOW DOES JESUS SAVE?
HOW DOES JESUS SAVE US
Review of an essay by William C. Placher
By George Pasley
The late William Placher was long my favorite Presbyterian theologian, though he rarely published and labored in the obscure ranks of undergraduate educators at Wabash College in Indiana. Nonetheless, his work on the “Brief Statement of Faith,” and his book, “Narratives of a Vulnerable God” were well thought, clearly written, compelling, insightful, and both modern and traditional.
The June 2, 2009 issue of The Christian Century contains an essay by Placher on soteriology, “How Does Jesus Save?” which I find to be of great value.
For students of theology it provides excellent summaries of most of the classical and modern theories of how Jesus saves. He lifts up the strong point of each theory, and summarizes the critique of each theory. Particularly helpful is his summary and critique of Renee Girard’s mimetic theory.
But most helpful is his encouragement of a different (though not necessarily new) way of thinking, which follows two principles.
The first principle, borrowed from Hans W. Frei, is this: “in theology, doctrines should illuminate and clarify stories rather than stories illustrating doctrines.” Placher defines the stories as “God’s covenant work with Israel and then the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” Then says, “We figure out and affirm the doctrines necessary to make sense of those stories (holding them tight if they really are necessary), but the stories come first.”
The second principle is Calvin’s, “Christ saves us by the whole course of his obedience,” a principle that Placher points out was often ignored by Calvin and most of the historical creeds (including- especially- the Apostle’s Creed).
The theory that Placher then espouses is best described by the early theologian Irenaeus, “(Christ) became what we are in order to enable us to become what he is.”
Placher says we need to stretch the idea of “becoming what we are”, as that would imply that the incarnation alone was sufficient for our salvation, and it clearly wasn’t: “At that point…the boundaries of the work remained far from clear. Were gentiles also saved? What about the despised and condemned? The list of such questions could be long extended. Only when God incarnate has welcomed sinners into his table fellowship, cured those who suffered, died the death assigned the blaspheming and seditious, even gone into the realm of those who rejected God and exist in a hell of utter isolation…only when this God incarnate has been raised can we glimpse the expansiveness of God’s work of salvation. Only the crucified One can save us.”
Some object that Irenaeus description amounts to deification (making gods of human beings) and Placher argues (effectively, I think) against that worry. But just in case, he offers another way of looking at it (a way I often emphasize when preaching about the New Testament Joseph): Jesus became one of us in order that we might be adopted by God.
I think Placher’s ideas “will preach” for a long time to come.
George R. Pasley
May 22, 2009
Ketchikan, AK
Review of an essay by William C. Placher
By George Pasley
The late William Placher was long my favorite Presbyterian theologian, though he rarely published and labored in the obscure ranks of undergraduate educators at Wabash College in Indiana. Nonetheless, his work on the “Brief Statement of Faith,” and his book, “Narratives of a Vulnerable God” were well thought, clearly written, compelling, insightful, and both modern and traditional.
The June 2, 2009 issue of The Christian Century contains an essay by Placher on soteriology, “How Does Jesus Save?” which I find to be of great value.
For students of theology it provides excellent summaries of most of the classical and modern theories of how Jesus saves. He lifts up the strong point of each theory, and summarizes the critique of each theory. Particularly helpful is his summary and critique of Renee Girard’s mimetic theory.
But most helpful is his encouragement of a different (though not necessarily new) way of thinking, which follows two principles.
The first principle, borrowed from Hans W. Frei, is this: “in theology, doctrines should illuminate and clarify stories rather than stories illustrating doctrines.” Placher defines the stories as “God’s covenant work with Israel and then the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” Then says, “We figure out and affirm the doctrines necessary to make sense of those stories (holding them tight if they really are necessary), but the stories come first.”
The second principle is Calvin’s, “Christ saves us by the whole course of his obedience,” a principle that Placher points out was often ignored by Calvin and most of the historical creeds (including- especially- the Apostle’s Creed).
The theory that Placher then espouses is best described by the early theologian Irenaeus, “(Christ) became what we are in order to enable us to become what he is.”
Placher says we need to stretch the idea of “becoming what we are”, as that would imply that the incarnation alone was sufficient for our salvation, and it clearly wasn’t: “At that point…the boundaries of the work remained far from clear. Were gentiles also saved? What about the despised and condemned? The list of such questions could be long extended. Only when God incarnate has welcomed sinners into his table fellowship, cured those who suffered, died the death assigned the blaspheming and seditious, even gone into the realm of those who rejected God and exist in a hell of utter isolation…only when this God incarnate has been raised can we glimpse the expansiveness of God’s work of salvation. Only the crucified One can save us.”
Some object that Irenaeus description amounts to deification (making gods of human beings) and Placher argues (effectively, I think) against that worry. But just in case, he offers another way of looking at it (a way I often emphasize when preaching about the New Testament Joseph): Jesus became one of us in order that we might be adopted by God.
I think Placher’s ideas “will preach” for a long time to come.
George R. Pasley
May 22, 2009
Ketchikan, AK
Thursday, August 7, 2008
THE GREAT AMERICAN CONTRADICTION
JOHNNY CASH AND THE GREAT AMERICAN CONTRADICTION
By Rodney Clapp
ISBN-13: 978-0-664-23088-3
One might be led by its title that this book is about Johnny Cash. Such is not the case. This book is (as the author describes it) a “Christian cultural criticism.” In my opinion it is an excellent critique.
Johnny Cash then enters the book as both an example of the contradictions of American culture and the Christian faith, and of prime importance to the author, an example of how those contradictions might be bridged.
The foundation for the most problematic aspect of the book is laid in the first chapter, which serves as an introduction to the problems created by the five contradictions that Clapp will name later. In chapter one Clapp presents a strong argument for the influence that southern culture has had on broader American culture, especially politics and religion. I do not argue with any of the points made by Clapp, but I suggest that some small amount of what Clapp says may be considered pejorative of the south and southern culture. In particular I point chapter 6, “Violence and Peace,” especially pages 112 and 113, where Clapp discuss the “code duello” and the level of homicides in southern states. Violence and guns are often equated with the south, and there is likely significant statistical evidence to the connection (Clapp even offers some), so I do not argue with Clapp but I do suggest a need for sensitivity regarding the subject if one intends to use the book in some public manner.
The great aspect of Clapp’s book is not just that it critiques American culture, but that it points to a way through the wilderness.
The five contradictions illumined by Clapp are: Lonesomeness and Community, Holiness and Hedonism, Tradition and Progress, Guilt and Innocence, and Violence and Peace. Clapp’s writing is at its best in chapter 3, “Holiness and Hedonism,” when he confronts idolatry: “Because idolatry is the most destructive of sinful conditions, the greatest danger to the faithfulness of the American church comes not from without but from within” (p. 60). Truly, idolatry is a subject many pastors have recognized in recent years, and Clapp gives us some fuel for our thoughts on the subject.
Clapp is most insightful with respect to the contradiction between Lonesomeness and Community. He identifies loneliness as a byproduct of our American desire for individual freedom. In fact, freedom becomes an idolatry that leads to diminishment of our created nature. Here, Clapp is at his best in praising country music, for “Unlike so much about our national culture and politics, it admits the inevitability of suffering and the tragic, and acknowledges the creaturely limitations no mortal can escape” (p. 26).
The practical nature of Clapp’s books reaches its zenith in the same chapter, when Clapp urges a “democracy for grownups” and lists six virtues already found within our traditions that a mature democracy can be built upon. They are: hard work, productive work & citizenship, plain living & simple pleasures, honor & integrity, fortitude & survival with dignity, and democracy itself. The virtues are listed on pages 38 and 39, and are elaborated on in sufficient manner.
The final chapter lifts up baptism as entry into a particular kind of public, the people of God. Throughout the book Clapp offered sharp critiques of the Religious Right, and fewer but no-less sharp critiques of the secular Left. Clapp argues that patriotism is both natural and permissible, but must ultimately be submissive to citizenship in the Kingdom of God.
There is much to benefit the pastor who reads this book, as fuel for prophetic thought, as insight into the nature of the church and the meaning of baptism, as assistance in addressing challenging issues, and as guide through the culture wars.
One of my parishioners learned I was reading this book, and went to the mason web site to read a few pages. She described it as “heady,” and it is. Nonetheless, it is not dense and its format, with chapters for five major contradictions, makes it accessible for a group discussion among thoughtful participants.
George R. Pasley
By Rodney Clapp
ISBN-13: 978-0-664-23088-3
One might be led by its title that this book is about Johnny Cash. Such is not the case. This book is (as the author describes it) a “Christian cultural criticism.” In my opinion it is an excellent critique.
Johnny Cash then enters the book as both an example of the contradictions of American culture and the Christian faith, and of prime importance to the author, an example of how those contradictions might be bridged.
The foundation for the most problematic aspect of the book is laid in the first chapter, which serves as an introduction to the problems created by the five contradictions that Clapp will name later. In chapter one Clapp presents a strong argument for the influence that southern culture has had on broader American culture, especially politics and religion. I do not argue with any of the points made by Clapp, but I suggest that some small amount of what Clapp says may be considered pejorative of the south and southern culture. In particular I point chapter 6, “Violence and Peace,” especially pages 112 and 113, where Clapp discuss the “code duello” and the level of homicides in southern states. Violence and guns are often equated with the south, and there is likely significant statistical evidence to the connection (Clapp even offers some), so I do not argue with Clapp but I do suggest a need for sensitivity regarding the subject if one intends to use the book in some public manner.
The great aspect of Clapp’s book is not just that it critiques American culture, but that it points to a way through the wilderness.
The five contradictions illumined by Clapp are: Lonesomeness and Community, Holiness and Hedonism, Tradition and Progress, Guilt and Innocence, and Violence and Peace. Clapp’s writing is at its best in chapter 3, “Holiness and Hedonism,” when he confronts idolatry: “Because idolatry is the most destructive of sinful conditions, the greatest danger to the faithfulness of the American church comes not from without but from within” (p. 60). Truly, idolatry is a subject many pastors have recognized in recent years, and Clapp gives us some fuel for our thoughts on the subject.
Clapp is most insightful with respect to the contradiction between Lonesomeness and Community. He identifies loneliness as a byproduct of our American desire for individual freedom. In fact, freedom becomes an idolatry that leads to diminishment of our created nature. Here, Clapp is at his best in praising country music, for “Unlike so much about our national culture and politics, it admits the inevitability of suffering and the tragic, and acknowledges the creaturely limitations no mortal can escape” (p. 26).
The practical nature of Clapp’s books reaches its zenith in the same chapter, when Clapp urges a “democracy for grownups” and lists six virtues already found within our traditions that a mature democracy can be built upon. They are: hard work, productive work & citizenship, plain living & simple pleasures, honor & integrity, fortitude & survival with dignity, and democracy itself. The virtues are listed on pages 38 and 39, and are elaborated on in sufficient manner.
The final chapter lifts up baptism as entry into a particular kind of public, the people of God. Throughout the book Clapp offered sharp critiques of the Religious Right, and fewer but no-less sharp critiques of the secular Left. Clapp argues that patriotism is both natural and permissible, but must ultimately be submissive to citizenship in the Kingdom of God.
There is much to benefit the pastor who reads this book, as fuel for prophetic thought, as insight into the nature of the church and the meaning of baptism, as assistance in addressing challenging issues, and as guide through the culture wars.
One of my parishioners learned I was reading this book, and went to the mason web site to read a few pages. She described it as “heady,” and it is. Nonetheless, it is not dense and its format, with chapters for five major contradictions, makes it accessible for a group discussion among thoughtful participants.
George R. Pasley
READING THE BIBLE WITH THE DAMNED
READING THE BIBLE WITH THE DAMNED, by Bob Ekblad
Published by Westminster/John Knox Press, 2005
ISBN-13: 978-0-664-22917-7
US $17.95
The title of this book grabbed me, as for several years I have wrestled with the problem of preaching to the people who are not in church on Sundays- especially those who are aware of their sin and feel they cannot approach God, for fear of being condemned.
Ekblad, an ordained Presbyterian, is executive director of Tierra Nueva (New Earth), in Washington State. One of the ministries of Tierra Nueva is Bible Studies at the Skagit County Jail. The book borrows form real life Bible studies that Ekblad has led there, among men with all kinds of criminal records, many of whom are also illegal immigrants.
The book is very practical and chronicles step by step some specific Bible studies, including the response from the class members.
Take for example chapter one, “Reading Scripture for the Liberation of the Not-Yet-Believing.” Ekblad describes how Jesus gave the gift of hope to the disciples on the Emmaus Road, concluding, “Luke’s description of what Jesus deemed necessary for disillusioned disciples invites today’s church to change our ways of thinking about God.” (p. 2)
For Ekblad, the important thing is to challenge the theological assumptions of those who come to his study. Many of them come with the ability to “talk the talk,” as one of my Ketchikan colleagues says. They have heard the gospel and its explanation many times, and Ekblad says this is the biggest obstacle to their receiving hope. So, Ekblad offers five important things to do: Directly challenge common assumptions about God by offering counter images form scripture; Challenge their views of who God is by revealing Jesus to them; Welcome alternative and creative interpretations, modeling this yourself so they can become comfortable with the notion; Challenge interpretations that tell us what we have to do to be saved, and offer interpretations that tell what God has done to save us; and pay special attention to the silences in scriptures, taking note of what scripture DOES NOT say.
Ekblad’s specific examples include Genesis 1 (he asks the prisoners what is dark and chaotic in their lives), the creation of human beings in God’s image (What do you think God looks like?), Genesis 2 (What did God tell Adam and Eve they COULD do?), God’s call of Abraham (who is discovered to be an immigrant), the oppression and liberation of Hagar (the men in the Bible study quickly identified with Hagar!), Exodus 1 (where Egyptians felt threatened by their immigrant neighbors), the call of Moses (God used a murder hiding out from the law), Isaiah 40-55 (God recruits exiles), the Psalms (intimacy and honesty with God), “God’s call of Matthew (“He was doing something bad!”), and Following Jesus (described as a “Good Coyote”. A coyote is someone who leads immigrants through the dessert and across the border, for a fee. They are sometimes honest and sometimes scoundrels, but they all require trust).
Most helpful to me was the offering of a different understanding of how atonement works. To most law-abiding Americans, there is nothing wrong with understanding God as our judge. But to repeat offenders, the judge is not the person who sets them free, but the one who imprisons them. They know they cannot hear a good word from the judge unless they are innocent, or have paid their penalty.
But Ekblad offers a counterimage from scripture: Jesus as the healer. “The notion of sin as sickness and God as spiritual healer is profoundly biblical. In Isaiah 6:9-10, lack of understanding, spiritual blindness and deafness are depicted as spiritual maladies that result form being turned away from God. Returning to the Lord leads to healing.” (p. 56)
Two particular strengths make Ekblad’s method appealing. One, it is scriptural based. Two, it does not throw away the old, standard, reliable theology of mainline churches. Rather, it adds to it and enhances it, revealing a God who seeks out the lost. I thus found the book a good theological read as well as a practical guide for “how to lead Bible study.” Buy it or borrow it as soon as you get a chance!
George R. Pasley
Published by Westminster/John Knox Press, 2005
ISBN-13: 978-0-664-22917-7
US $17.95
The title of this book grabbed me, as for several years I have wrestled with the problem of preaching to the people who are not in church on Sundays- especially those who are aware of their sin and feel they cannot approach God, for fear of being condemned.
Ekblad, an ordained Presbyterian, is executive director of Tierra Nueva (New Earth), in Washington State. One of the ministries of Tierra Nueva is Bible Studies at the Skagit County Jail. The book borrows form real life Bible studies that Ekblad has led there, among men with all kinds of criminal records, many of whom are also illegal immigrants.
The book is very practical and chronicles step by step some specific Bible studies, including the response from the class members.
Take for example chapter one, “Reading Scripture for the Liberation of the Not-Yet-Believing.” Ekblad describes how Jesus gave the gift of hope to the disciples on the Emmaus Road, concluding, “Luke’s description of what Jesus deemed necessary for disillusioned disciples invites today’s church to change our ways of thinking about God.” (p. 2)
For Ekblad, the important thing is to challenge the theological assumptions of those who come to his study. Many of them come with the ability to “talk the talk,” as one of my Ketchikan colleagues says. They have heard the gospel and its explanation many times, and Ekblad says this is the biggest obstacle to their receiving hope. So, Ekblad offers five important things to do: Directly challenge common assumptions about God by offering counter images form scripture; Challenge their views of who God is by revealing Jesus to them; Welcome alternative and creative interpretations, modeling this yourself so they can become comfortable with the notion; Challenge interpretations that tell us what we have to do to be saved, and offer interpretations that tell what God has done to save us; and pay special attention to the silences in scriptures, taking note of what scripture DOES NOT say.
Ekblad’s specific examples include Genesis 1 (he asks the prisoners what is dark and chaotic in their lives), the creation of human beings in God’s image (What do you think God looks like?), Genesis 2 (What did God tell Adam and Eve they COULD do?), God’s call of Abraham (who is discovered to be an immigrant), the oppression and liberation of Hagar (the men in the Bible study quickly identified with Hagar!), Exodus 1 (where Egyptians felt threatened by their immigrant neighbors), the call of Moses (God used a murder hiding out from the law), Isaiah 40-55 (God recruits exiles), the Psalms (intimacy and honesty with God), “God’s call of Matthew (“He was doing something bad!”), and Following Jesus (described as a “Good Coyote”. A coyote is someone who leads immigrants through the dessert and across the border, for a fee. They are sometimes honest and sometimes scoundrels, but they all require trust).
Most helpful to me was the offering of a different understanding of how atonement works. To most law-abiding Americans, there is nothing wrong with understanding God as our judge. But to repeat offenders, the judge is not the person who sets them free, but the one who imprisons them. They know they cannot hear a good word from the judge unless they are innocent, or have paid their penalty.
But Ekblad offers a counterimage from scripture: Jesus as the healer. “The notion of sin as sickness and God as spiritual healer is profoundly biblical. In Isaiah 6:9-10, lack of understanding, spiritual blindness and deafness are depicted as spiritual maladies that result form being turned away from God. Returning to the Lord leads to healing.” (p. 56)
Two particular strengths make Ekblad’s method appealing. One, it is scriptural based. Two, it does not throw away the old, standard, reliable theology of mainline churches. Rather, it adds to it and enhances it, revealing a God who seeks out the lost. I thus found the book a good theological read as well as a practical guide for “how to lead Bible study.” Buy it or borrow it as soon as you get a chance!
George R. Pasley
DISCIPLINES OF THE SPIRIT
Disciplines of the Spirit
By Howard Thurman
African-American Howard Thurman (1900-1981), poet, mystic, philosopher, theologian, and Dean of Chapel at two major universities during his career, first published this book in 1963. Obviously it has become a classic, and aside from an occasional poem, it was my first real exposure to his work.
Thurman identifies 5 “disciplines” and discusses each one at length. Why he chose the term “discipline” to describe them I do not know- it implies to me that they are something one can take on and practice, like exercise. But that is not what he is getting at, which is best described in the opening sentences of his foreword:
“The purpose of this book is to examine certain specific aspects of human experience. These aspects are chosen because of their universality and BECAUSE OF THEIR SIGNIFICANCE FOR TUTORING THE HUMAN SPIRIT (emphasis added). There are five such areas included in the discussion: commitment, growth, suffering, prayer, and reconciliation.” (p. 9)
Each discipline (and now I am thinking he uses that term in the manner of “an area of study”) is well explored and articulated, but the discipline by which Thurman most struck me as suffering.
Suffering was a subject well discussed in my seminary classes- most notably in theology, but also in biblical studies. Yet Thurman found some points to consider that were either neglected or touched upon only lightly.
Suffering is both impersonal (“It humiliates and violates the person and very often the dignity of the human spirit,” p. 65) and personal. “Though suffering is a private encounter, and in the last analysis a man must deal with it in solitariness and isolation, it is ultimately reassuring if it can be placed in a frame of reference as universal and comprehensive as life itself.” (p. 66)
“Suffering is a form of physical pain.” (p. 66) Here Thurman probes some ethical consequences of that fact. Denying humanity, or personality, to our enemies makes it easier for us to choose to inflict pain- and even death- on them. In the modern era, we do this most often by demonizing them. Food for thought, there!
Thurman explores the summoning of spiritual resources by the sufferer. “Openings are made in life by suffering that are not made in any other way.” (p. 76) While there is nothing groundbreaking in that observation, Thurman takes one step further and explorers, if only briefly, the lives of those for whom suffering does not make “new openings.” Frankly, he has no answer to explain the dichotomy of experience, but he does have pastoral advice: “…the only thing is to wait it out, to affirm with avid recollection and present insistence that the contradictions of life are never final. All contradictions are held together in an almighty synthesis that gives them, ultimately a meaning and a context.” (p. 77)
Most helpful to me was Thurman’s exploration of the suffering of the innocent. Borrowing an idea from Margaret Kennedy’s novel “The Feast,” Thurman first explorers the idea “that mankind is protected and sustained by undeserved suffering- that swinging out beyond the logic of antecedent and consequence, of sowing and reaping, there is another power, another force, supplementing and restoring the ravages wrought in human life by punishment and reward. The innocent are always present when the payment falls due…Their presence in the world is a stabilizing factor, a precious ingredient maintaining the delicate balance that prevents humanity from p[lunging into the abyss.” (p. 79) This sort of thought was present in my OT 101 study of the suffering servant, but here is the first place I have seen it adequately explained.
Yet Thurman is not completely satisfied with that thought. “But what of those…whose lives are not girded by such a faith…Are these others abandoned by God and left to languish without a witness of His love?” (p. 80)
Thurman then probes the questions that suffering forces on the sufferer, foremost “Why?” Suffering “is part of the life contract that every living being signs at the entrance…To reject suffering is to reject life.” (p. 80) But how does suffering “pay” for its ride (what purpose does it serve?). One immediate conclusion is that without suffering there could be no freedom.
But Thurman has a greater idea. “The ultimate logic of suffering, of course, lies in the fact of death. The particular quality of death is found in what it says about the future. Death is a denial of the validity of the future. This is the logic of all suffering. It is what rallies the spirit and girds man to do battle. Suffering is the gauntlet that death throws down in the arena…Stripped of all cultural accretions and special limitations of specific historic situations, religion…says that life and death take place in a larger context, which religion calls Life. Life and death are the experience of living things, and here Life in some sense becomes identical with God…Death is seen as being an experience WITHIN Life, not happening TO Life (emphasis original).” (p. 81)
This is a thesis that Thurman developed wonderfully over several pages, and I do believe I will find myself referring to it again.
George R. Pasley
July 8, 2002
By Howard Thurman
African-American Howard Thurman (1900-1981), poet, mystic, philosopher, theologian, and Dean of Chapel at two major universities during his career, first published this book in 1963. Obviously it has become a classic, and aside from an occasional poem, it was my first real exposure to his work.
Thurman identifies 5 “disciplines” and discusses each one at length. Why he chose the term “discipline” to describe them I do not know- it implies to me that they are something one can take on and practice, like exercise. But that is not what he is getting at, which is best described in the opening sentences of his foreword:
“The purpose of this book is to examine certain specific aspects of human experience. These aspects are chosen because of their universality and BECAUSE OF THEIR SIGNIFICANCE FOR TUTORING THE HUMAN SPIRIT (emphasis added). There are five such areas included in the discussion: commitment, growth, suffering, prayer, and reconciliation.” (p. 9)
Each discipline (and now I am thinking he uses that term in the manner of “an area of study”) is well explored and articulated, but the discipline by which Thurman most struck me as suffering.
Suffering was a subject well discussed in my seminary classes- most notably in theology, but also in biblical studies. Yet Thurman found some points to consider that were either neglected or touched upon only lightly.
Suffering is both impersonal (“It humiliates and violates the person and very often the dignity of the human spirit,” p. 65) and personal. “Though suffering is a private encounter, and in the last analysis a man must deal with it in solitariness and isolation, it is ultimately reassuring if it can be placed in a frame of reference as universal and comprehensive as life itself.” (p. 66)
“Suffering is a form of physical pain.” (p. 66) Here Thurman probes some ethical consequences of that fact. Denying humanity, or personality, to our enemies makes it easier for us to choose to inflict pain- and even death- on them. In the modern era, we do this most often by demonizing them. Food for thought, there!
Thurman explores the summoning of spiritual resources by the sufferer. “Openings are made in life by suffering that are not made in any other way.” (p. 76) While there is nothing groundbreaking in that observation, Thurman takes one step further and explorers, if only briefly, the lives of those for whom suffering does not make “new openings.” Frankly, he has no answer to explain the dichotomy of experience, but he does have pastoral advice: “…the only thing is to wait it out, to affirm with avid recollection and present insistence that the contradictions of life are never final. All contradictions are held together in an almighty synthesis that gives them, ultimately a meaning and a context.” (p. 77)
Most helpful to me was Thurman’s exploration of the suffering of the innocent. Borrowing an idea from Margaret Kennedy’s novel “The Feast,” Thurman first explorers the idea “that mankind is protected and sustained by undeserved suffering- that swinging out beyond the logic of antecedent and consequence, of sowing and reaping, there is another power, another force, supplementing and restoring the ravages wrought in human life by punishment and reward. The innocent are always present when the payment falls due…Their presence in the world is a stabilizing factor, a precious ingredient maintaining the delicate balance that prevents humanity from p[lunging into the abyss.” (p. 79) This sort of thought was present in my OT 101 study of the suffering servant, but here is the first place I have seen it adequately explained.
Yet Thurman is not completely satisfied with that thought. “But what of those…whose lives are not girded by such a faith…Are these others abandoned by God and left to languish without a witness of His love?” (p. 80)
Thurman then probes the questions that suffering forces on the sufferer, foremost “Why?” Suffering “is part of the life contract that every living being signs at the entrance…To reject suffering is to reject life.” (p. 80) But how does suffering “pay” for its ride (what purpose does it serve?). One immediate conclusion is that without suffering there could be no freedom.
But Thurman has a greater idea. “The ultimate logic of suffering, of course, lies in the fact of death. The particular quality of death is found in what it says about the future. Death is a denial of the validity of the future. This is the logic of all suffering. It is what rallies the spirit and girds man to do battle. Suffering is the gauntlet that death throws down in the arena…Stripped of all cultural accretions and special limitations of specific historic situations, religion…says that life and death take place in a larger context, which religion calls Life. Life and death are the experience of living things, and here Life in some sense becomes identical with God…Death is seen as being an experience WITHIN Life, not happening TO Life (emphasis original).” (p. 81)
This is a thesis that Thurman developed wonderfully over several pages, and I do believe I will find myself referring to it again.
George R. Pasley
July 8, 2002
THEN THE WHISPER PUT ON FLESH
THEN THE WHISPER PUT ON FLESH
New Testament Ethics in an African American Context
By Brian K. Blount
Abingdon Press, 2001. 232 pp.
ISBN #0-687-08589-6
Some weeks ago I found in my library a mostly unread copy of James Cone’s “God of the Oppressed”, published more than twenty years ago. I read it thoroughly, making many notes. It was at once engaging and provocative, hopeful and polemic. Cone, who is still professor of Theology at New York’s Union Seminary, is African American, and wrote his theology strictly from a liberation prospective.
I next found on my shelf a smaller volume, completely unread, by Wendell Berry: “The Hidden Wound,” written just a few years earlier than Cone’s volume, during a time of social unrest. The opening historical narrative by Berry, a white man, did better than anything I have ever read or heard to explain the systemic nature of racism. Berry sought to identify a wound deeper than racism in our society, the separation of humans from labor and from the soil, and argued that racism was one result of that separation.
I then chanced upon in a bookstore a contemporary volume by one of my own seminary professors, Brian K. Blount. Since I had so recently read two books dealing with experience of Black Americans, the title of Blount’s book caught my eye, and I bought it: “Then the Whisper Put on Flesh: New Testament Ethics in an African American Context”.
Blount’s work has a slightly different focus than Cone’s. It is more exegetical in nature, and less argumentative. Cone wrote that liberation was the necessary foundation for theology, saying “What has the gospel to do with the oppressed of the land and their struggle for liberation? Any theologian who fails to place that question at the center of his or her work has ignored the essence of the gospel” (Cone, introduction, p. 9). His argument was that theological discourse was not ONLY universal, but also particular, and that the experience of his people was a fundamental tool in theology. What I found provocative, but did not necessarily disagree with, was his insistence upon doing theology from that particular perspective.
Like Cone, Blount argues “that the Bible has always been read through the experiences of the people holding it. The meaning they draw and the ethics they build are directly related to the lives they lead. It is no wonder that for a people in slavery and yearning to be free that the Bible would mean and encourage liberation” (p. 15). Blount differs from Cone, however, in his acknowledgment of other lens for reading the Bible, even within the African American tradition (p. 50).
The focus of Blount’s work then shifts from Cone, as Blount then begins to do the work that Cone argued needed to be done: using the lens of African American history, and his exegetical skills, he interprets the New Testament from a liberation perspective. There is a separate chapter for the Synoptic Gospels, one for John, one for the letters of Paul, and one for Revelation. This was clearly different from Cone, for I noticed very early in Cone’s work that there was practically nothing in his use of the New Testament outside of the synoptics.
What made this book come to life for me were Blount’s numerous descriptions of actual encounters of slave communities with the texts.
The synoptics are where Blount begins, and where he finds his easiest going. But what makes the book valuable to the preacher, and especially to me, a white preacher, are the other chapters. Even from a non-liberation perspective, I find John difficult to preach, but Blount offers some exciting possibilities.
Briefly, Blount describes the ethics of the synoptics as “Kingdom Ethics,” each with a slightly different twist: Mark as boundary breaking, Matthew as “visual institution”, and Luke as “ethics of reversal.” I found personally interesting his view of Matthew’s ethics defined as “an identifiable, alternative worship community in an environment he believed was hostile to its reconfiguration of the faith of God’s people” (p. 64). I find this personally interesting because of the thought I have been giving to the manner in which preaching forms community, and especially “alternative community.” There is much in Blount’s work that gives me something to work with.
Commenting on John, Blount says, “When we carefully read John’s work in the light of its first-century context, we find his language and symbolism to be the stuff of active, counter-cultural, community resistance” (p. 93). He describes a way African slaves had of seizing and making their own reality inside of their suffering reality, quite vividly, telling the story of a corn shucking. In the reality of their own construction, “the injustices that presently plagued them were ‘in truth’ no more” (p. 95). Blount argues that the gospel of John served the same function in its original context, and can do so still.
If there was one thing in the book that really moved me, it was Blount’s description of the interpretation and appropriation of scripture by slaves. Think of it: they could not read. All they knew of the Bible was what some white person decided to tell them, and yet they immediately discerned that it was good news- that it meant liberation. While Blount never draws the conclusion that the Holy Spirit was an active agent in this discernment, or that the very nature of Gospel itself makes such discernment by oppressed people’s inevitable, I could not help thinking along those lines.
Blount tells a particularly forceful story, quoting two sources, of something that goes beyond this: slaves rejecting a letter of Paul (Philemon) as authentically belonging within the canon. No wonder that Cone ignored Paul!
Yet there is a lot within Paul’s letters, especially the authentic letters, that proclaims liberation and Blount makes excellent and helpful (from a preacher’s standpoint) use of it. Blount not only points this out, but does the more difficult work of correcting false interpretation of less obvious passages of Paul. In the end, though, Blount must conclude, “Paul apparently did not have the full ethical courage of his Galatians 3:28 convictions” (p. 149). But, he reminds us, neither has the historical black church always had all of its courage (specifically with respect to women). And I suspect that many a church historian would concur about that deficiency in all of the church!
Finally, Revelation provides the inspiration and direction for “active resistance.” Agreeing with Cone, Blount argues that the Gospel is not an opiate, “because the people who lived the symbolic language also lived the contrary lives of opposition to the political and religious powers of their respective worlds” (p. 159). Even more, he argues that “personal escape from the horror” is not the “hoped for and enacted conclusion. Divine judgment that would transform the human historical landscape was anticipated instead” (p. 164).
I found the book not only inspirational, but also helpful, and I expect to use it often as a reference.
August 28, 2002
New Testament Ethics in an African American Context
By Brian K. Blount
Abingdon Press, 2001. 232 pp.
ISBN #0-687-08589-6
Some weeks ago I found in my library a mostly unread copy of James Cone’s “God of the Oppressed”, published more than twenty years ago. I read it thoroughly, making many notes. It was at once engaging and provocative, hopeful and polemic. Cone, who is still professor of Theology at New York’s Union Seminary, is African American, and wrote his theology strictly from a liberation prospective.
I next found on my shelf a smaller volume, completely unread, by Wendell Berry: “The Hidden Wound,” written just a few years earlier than Cone’s volume, during a time of social unrest. The opening historical narrative by Berry, a white man, did better than anything I have ever read or heard to explain the systemic nature of racism. Berry sought to identify a wound deeper than racism in our society, the separation of humans from labor and from the soil, and argued that racism was one result of that separation.
I then chanced upon in a bookstore a contemporary volume by one of my own seminary professors, Brian K. Blount. Since I had so recently read two books dealing with experience of Black Americans, the title of Blount’s book caught my eye, and I bought it: “Then the Whisper Put on Flesh: New Testament Ethics in an African American Context”.
Blount’s work has a slightly different focus than Cone’s. It is more exegetical in nature, and less argumentative. Cone wrote that liberation was the necessary foundation for theology, saying “What has the gospel to do with the oppressed of the land and their struggle for liberation? Any theologian who fails to place that question at the center of his or her work has ignored the essence of the gospel” (Cone, introduction, p. 9). His argument was that theological discourse was not ONLY universal, but also particular, and that the experience of his people was a fundamental tool in theology. What I found provocative, but did not necessarily disagree with, was his insistence upon doing theology from that particular perspective.
Like Cone, Blount argues “that the Bible has always been read through the experiences of the people holding it. The meaning they draw and the ethics they build are directly related to the lives they lead. It is no wonder that for a people in slavery and yearning to be free that the Bible would mean and encourage liberation” (p. 15). Blount differs from Cone, however, in his acknowledgment of other lens for reading the Bible, even within the African American tradition (p. 50).
The focus of Blount’s work then shifts from Cone, as Blount then begins to do the work that Cone argued needed to be done: using the lens of African American history, and his exegetical skills, he interprets the New Testament from a liberation perspective. There is a separate chapter for the Synoptic Gospels, one for John, one for the letters of Paul, and one for Revelation. This was clearly different from Cone, for I noticed very early in Cone’s work that there was practically nothing in his use of the New Testament outside of the synoptics.
What made this book come to life for me were Blount’s numerous descriptions of actual encounters of slave communities with the texts.
The synoptics are where Blount begins, and where he finds his easiest going. But what makes the book valuable to the preacher, and especially to me, a white preacher, are the other chapters. Even from a non-liberation perspective, I find John difficult to preach, but Blount offers some exciting possibilities.
Briefly, Blount describes the ethics of the synoptics as “Kingdom Ethics,” each with a slightly different twist: Mark as boundary breaking, Matthew as “visual institution”, and Luke as “ethics of reversal.” I found personally interesting his view of Matthew’s ethics defined as “an identifiable, alternative worship community in an environment he believed was hostile to its reconfiguration of the faith of God’s people” (p. 64). I find this personally interesting because of the thought I have been giving to the manner in which preaching forms community, and especially “alternative community.” There is much in Blount’s work that gives me something to work with.
Commenting on John, Blount says, “When we carefully read John’s work in the light of its first-century context, we find his language and symbolism to be the stuff of active, counter-cultural, community resistance” (p. 93). He describes a way African slaves had of seizing and making their own reality inside of their suffering reality, quite vividly, telling the story of a corn shucking. In the reality of their own construction, “the injustices that presently plagued them were ‘in truth’ no more” (p. 95). Blount argues that the gospel of John served the same function in its original context, and can do so still.
If there was one thing in the book that really moved me, it was Blount’s description of the interpretation and appropriation of scripture by slaves. Think of it: they could not read. All they knew of the Bible was what some white person decided to tell them, and yet they immediately discerned that it was good news- that it meant liberation. While Blount never draws the conclusion that the Holy Spirit was an active agent in this discernment, or that the very nature of Gospel itself makes such discernment by oppressed people’s inevitable, I could not help thinking along those lines.
Blount tells a particularly forceful story, quoting two sources, of something that goes beyond this: slaves rejecting a letter of Paul (Philemon) as authentically belonging within the canon. No wonder that Cone ignored Paul!
Yet there is a lot within Paul’s letters, especially the authentic letters, that proclaims liberation and Blount makes excellent and helpful (from a preacher’s standpoint) use of it. Blount not only points this out, but does the more difficult work of correcting false interpretation of less obvious passages of Paul. In the end, though, Blount must conclude, “Paul apparently did not have the full ethical courage of his Galatians 3:28 convictions” (p. 149). But, he reminds us, neither has the historical black church always had all of its courage (specifically with respect to women). And I suspect that many a church historian would concur about that deficiency in all of the church!
Finally, Revelation provides the inspiration and direction for “active resistance.” Agreeing with Cone, Blount argues that the Gospel is not an opiate, “because the people who lived the symbolic language also lived the contrary lives of opposition to the political and religious powers of their respective worlds” (p. 159). Even more, he argues that “personal escape from the horror” is not the “hoped for and enacted conclusion. Divine judgment that would transform the human historical landscape was anticipated instead” (p. 164).
I found the book not only inspirational, but also helpful, and I expect to use it often as a reference.
August 28, 2002
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