Category: The text as critic

  • The Lord’s Prayer: Exegesis by the daily practice of the text.

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    Been blogging now for over two years. Mostly I'm happy doing random postings from the lengthy serious to the shorter fun stuff, from theology to poetry, from unabashed baptist stuff to the essential correctives from other Christian traditions, from book reviews to political and cultural comment.
    I'd like to stick with the spontaneous and unpredictable daily diet – that way personal interests, daft impulses, serious reflection, can be combined with generally directive rambling around theological ideas. 

    At the same time there's a couple of bigger projects I'd quite like to play around with. I've already started a weekly Brueggemann conversation Friday by Friday. During Lent I'll start another regular weekly posting as an experiment with biblical text. Nothing ambitious – just an attempt to exegete the chosen text by performative practices! And the chosen text is the Lord's Prayer.

    Instead of trying to exegete the meaning of the text first – supposing I try to live it while also trying to understand it, allowing reflective study and reflective practice to shape each other?

    It could be an experiment reflecting on and recording the cost and consequence of living out of a text that is itself living, and active, and pierces to the marrow – to the core of who I am, and to the heart of what's important.

    Anyway my plans for Lent are to live daily with the Lord's Prayer. I'll say more about why and how in the next post.

  • Finally Comes the Poet. 1 Reducing mystery to problem.

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    The following from
    Walter Brueggemann. Finally Comes the Poet. Daring Speech for Proclamation, (Fortress, 1989), p. 1-2.

    "The gospel is too readily heard and taken for granted, as though it contained no unsettling news and no unwelcome threat. What began as news in the gospel is easily assumed, slotted, and conveniently dismissed. We depart having heard, but without noticing the urge to tansformation that is not readily compatible with our comfortable believing, that asks little and receives less.

    The gospel is thus a truth widely held, but a truth greatly reduced. It is a truth that has been flattened, trivialized, and rendered inane. Partly, the gospel is simply an old habit among us, neither valued nor questioned. But more than that, our technical way of thinking reduces mystery to problem, transforms assurance into certitude, revises quality into quantity, and so takes the categories of biblical faith and represents them in manageable shapes

    Preaching among us happens in this context in which the gospel is greatly reduced. That means the gospel may have been twisted, pressed, tailored, gerrymandered until it is comfortable with technological reason that leaves us unbothered, and with ideology that leaves us with uncriticized absolutes. When truth is mediated in such positivistic, ideological and therefore partisan ways, humaneness wavers, the prospect of humanness is at risk, and unchecked brutality makes its appearance. We shall not be the community we hope to be if our primary communications are in modes of utilitarian technology and managed, conformed values."

    …………………………..oooooooooooooo………………………

    Brueggemann
    Walter Brueggemann is one of those writers on the Bible who decisively shapes how we think and shakes up our cherished but unexamined assumptions. Long before he became the doyen of Old Testament scholarship at its provocative best, I've read him regularly. From his early work on the land, the prophets and a quite wonderful book on shalom since reprinted, and then over thirty years of productive writing, he has given the church a constant flow of biblical theology whose foundation pillars are plunged deep into bedrock scriptural text.

    Brueggemann is a scholar not always at home in a church at times too keen to buy into the values and techniques of consumer culture and what he calls the hegemony of empire! He is a biblical theologian who deeply reveres the biblical text, a preacher who creatively and disturbingly sets ancient text and contemporary western culture on a collision course. And in his preaching and writing he warns that the church  inevitably feels the impact of that text as it allows itself to be too closely aligned with a prevailing culture under judgement.

    Over the next while I'll post some further extracts from his lectures on preaching, with the characteristically enigmatic title, Finally Comes the Poet. Daring Speech for Proclamation. This book is now 20 years old, pre-dates fashionably post-modern jargon, and therefore demonstrates Brueggemann's prescience about the dis-ease of consumer driven culture, and the capacity of the biblical text to address postmodern ambiguities with "thickly textured" hopefulness. In this as in all his books, Brueggemann gets under our skin as readers and hearers, by an exegesis of the biblical text as that word from God that tears down and builds up, that breaks open in order to heal deeply, that calls us in question, in order to call us again to obedient grateful living. 

  • Wherever compassion rears its beautiful head.

    Mark 9.38-50 is about Jesus' disciples telling others not to cast out demons in Jesus name; an attempt at a kind of exclusive exorcism franchise, a claim to ministry copyright. You only get the irony of Mark 9.38-50 if you remember what happened earlier in Chapter 9.

    Here's the giveaway text at Mark 9.18 : " I asked your disciples to cast it out, but they
    couldn’t."

    Now failure, if taken rightly to heart, is an education in humility, progress towards a
    more honest self understanding, an opportunity to grow. But not for the disciples in Mark’s Gospel. Having failed to
    exorcise an evil spirit themselves, they then become the self-appointed
    Regional Quality Assurance officers for Exorcisms. Not surprising, that desire
    to regulate others, control the boundaries, 
    – they’d just been having an argument about who is the greatest. Like one of those Blair Brown ambition-fests we used to be treated to, about who would be leader and who the followers.
    Jesus had just given the kind of answer that only works in the politics of the Kingdom of God, "Whoever wants to be first, must be last of all and servant of all." And like the self-preoccupied movers
    and shakers they believed themselves to be, they didn’t, as John Reid used to
    say, ‘get it’.

    So failed exorcists with a lust for leadership, presume to
    disqualify others from their ministry in Jesus' name, and in doing so unwittingly disqualify
    themselves. John Reid (remember him now?) would say, ‘Disciples not fit for
    purpose’. In a world with more than its fair share of those powers that dehumanise, violate and contaminate human community, Jesus' words question the right of any of us to erect boundaries, theological or otherwise, around compassionate care for others. Maybe there's a conversion of heart needed so we can hear more clearly Jesus' reply, – generously inclusive, ministry affirming, and welcoming
    compassion wherever it rears its beautiful head …”whoever is not against us is
    for us.” These words represent Jesus' permission to celebrate compassion, to defend and support those who take on the powers and social forces that diminish human lives – wherever, whenever.

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    "Whoever is not against us is for us"  – That saying urges an ecumenicity of the heart, and it is only possible
    when being first is an irrelevance, and being servant of all a priority. "Whoever is not against us is for us", gives not only the benefit of the doubt,
    but the benefit of trust and fellowship. To live with such an attitude of openness to
    goodness, to see each act of kindness as Christ-serving, to believe each costly
    casting out of evil wherever it lurks collaborates with God’s Kingdom, to
    recognise, acknowledge and celebrate compassion wherever it radiates into human
    lives, is to take on the generous inclusiveness of Jesus who welcomes all the
    help the world needs. In fact, service in Jesus' name, inevitably becomes service to Jesus, for inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my sisters and brothers……you did it for me.

    The painting above is one of my favourite pieces of Scottish art. The angels are carrying St Bride to visit Christ at the Nativity, embody in their movement and demeanour, dependable compassion and faithful carrying, but also the power of God's goodness let loose in the world. It's included in this post – because I take any excuse to celebrate this beautiful modern Celtic masterpiece by John Duncan. You can see it at the National Gallery of Scotland. Over the years I've spent an hour or three gazing at it.

  • Intentional Bible reading and transformative practice

    Ian asked in a comment for an unpacking of an admittedly dense sentence in the previous post (in mitigation, it was written early morning though;) )

    "Intentional
    Bible reading as spiritual discipline leading to transformative
    practice, while a core emphasis in Baptist spirituality, is certainly
    not a Baptist or Evangelical monopoly game."

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    So I'll try to expand and explain. Those of us embedded in Scottish Baptist life recognise that we often make a strong claim to being a Bible believing people. Our devotion to Scripture is expressed in such characteristic ways as Bible study, preaching that is biblically rooted in exposition of the text, and testing of church practice, personal ethics and doctrinal conviction against the benchmark of Christ as revealed in Scripture. The place of such Christ-centred biblical commitment is historically and culturally pervasive in our spirituality and is all but unquestioned amongst Scottish Baptists. But we are prone to exaggerate such biblical devotion as an Evangelical or Baptist distinctive, at times being dismissive of the biblical rootedness of other traditions which may not claim to be either Baptist or Evangelical. Yet actual reading of Scripture, and practice of the Gospel in faithfulness to Christ, are as evident in other traditions as our own – so that at times we can sound painfully self-righteous. So we don't have a monopoly on such biblically oriented spirituality.

    I suspect the more compacted clause is the first one though, and especially the phrase "transformative practice". I was thinking of how deliberate and regular consideration of Scripture, alone or even better in fellowship with others, leads to transformation. By prayer, study, reflection and application to life, the word again becomes flesh, embodied and active in Christ following action. The transformative power of Scripture is therefore pervasive and invasive, reaching both within us and beyond us, re-shaping Christian community to the form of Christ, and flowing outward in witness and service.
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    For example to encounter the words, "He has shown you human beings what is good, and what does the Lord require of you, but to act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God", is to know ourselves addressed by God, called to change; it is to hear love's ultimatum, to recognise a sovereign invitation to grow through an inner reconfiguring of priorities, attitudes and responsiveness, that instigates in us and around us, new pattterns of behaviour. So not only the change in me, but as I am summoned by God's requirement to change and behave differently, I become an agent of mercy, an enthusiast for just acting, one who walks humbly with the God whose transformative Word disrupts and reconfigures my worldview. That's what I meant by "Intentional
    Bible reading as spiritual discipline leading to transformative
    practice".

    As a matter of fact it would be an interesting experience for a Christian community to let that one Micah verse be the focus of attention, and through a process of communal discernment and intentional reading, ask the question;

    so what for us as a people does it now mean,
    for us, at this time and in this place,
    to act justly, and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly with God?

    Ask such a question seriously, work towards its answer with honesty and imagination, and sooner or later the Spirit of Christ translates intentional reading into transformative practice.

  • Before there was a world to redeem, a world was made.

    Eagle nebulae
    Decided to keep the Fib Fest going for a few days to allow time for festive preparations and recovery. Anyone fancy doing a Nativity Fib though, for Christmas Eve?

    Here's a few more offerings that stand to the side of the Christmas story, but not too far off. The birth of Jesus starts the story of the New Testament. I've always felt that Christmas is a good time to reflect on the way the Old Testament starts the story of all things. Before there was a world to redeem a world was made. Long before the birth of Jesus, God made flesh, human beings were formed and wrought by the creative impetus of a Love incapable of self-absorption. That seems to be something of what John's Gospel is saying in chapter 1. And out of that Eternal Love came all that is made, including human beings, with all the risk and cost that would entail. And God still did it. Whatever else we make of the omniscience of God, that strangely technical word refers to that universe of deep and eternal knowing that we call the Love of God.

    Creation
    Let
    there
    be light!
    Creation,
    from first to last, an
    imperative fiat of love,
    as Benign Being invites a universe to be.

    Rest
    God's
    peace!
    Sabbath
    observance.
    God's recreation.
    Well done good and faithful God.
    Now our harder task. Curators of God's masterpiece.

    Incarnation
    First
    word
    becomes
    final word.
    What else could God do,
    but wrap words in flesh, be born as
    God whose love exhausts whole lexicons of spelled out words
    ?

  • The Fife Coastal Walk, the Equinox and Psalm 93

    Harbour1
    Going here (to Crail, Fife), to do walking, reading and thinking. Sheila likewise and taking her watercolours too. The weather forecast is "none of this over-rated and boring blue skies with day on day constant sunshine, but as we move towards the equinox there will be high winds, rain and the usual seasonal challenges." Once had a holiday in the East Neuk during the equinox and the seas were mountainous – I love big seas crashing in on the shore. I can well understand how in the Wisdom Literature the image of humanly uncontrollable waves points to the immensity and mystery of God, and makes human beings feel small, relative to the vast dynamic reality of the God whose love and power is imaged in pounding waves. Taking my waterproofs and probably not my Factor 40 sun cream. Taking my wee NT and Psalms as well – and if there are big seas, I'll read Psalm 93 on the shoreline – perhaps as a reminder there is a power greater than all the Market Forces of discredited globalisation!

    1 The LORD reigns, he is robed in majesty;
           the LORD is robed in majesty
           and is armed with strength.
           The world is firmly established;
           it cannot be moved.

     2 Your throne was established long ago;
           you are from all eternity.

     3 The seas have lifted up, O LORD,
           the seas have lifted up their voice;
           the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

     4 Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
           mightier than the breakers of the sea—
           the LORD on high is mighty.

     5 Your statutes stand firm;
           holiness adorns your house
           for endless days, O LORD.

        

  • Anxiety levels and doing the Good Samaritan thing!

    Vangogh56
    So the Priest and the Levite passed by on the other side. And ever since we have assumed those two patron saints of the Don't Get Personally Involved Society, represent the way people other than oursleves might react to a man lying hurt on the road.
    The Good Samaritan, however, is the one we imagine ourselves to be, faced with a similar incident.

    Yesterday on the way to church I came to the junction with Glasgow Road and as I checked the traffic to my right, 20 metres away, lying in the middle of the road, holding a bunch of pink balloons, was a young black man. Cars were passing by on the outside lane; that piece of road is on a hill and at a bend, and is where speed limits are routinely ignored. I didn't know if he had been hit, or was ill, or drunk or what – but what was obvious was his life was in serious danger. None of the cars were for stopping; several walkers on the other side of the road looked curiously but kept walking.

    I left the car, ran towards him, waving to traffic to stop or slow down, and when I reached him he was lying looking vacantly at the sky, till I spoke. He focused his eyes, and it became clear he was returning from a party and had decided he needed to sleep. I pulled him up, he stumbled to the pavement, asked where he was, said he needed to get to Glasgow. Refused a lift, made it clear he didn't want company, was clearly disoriented but determined to go, and so he made his uncertain way back along Glasgow Road. I watched for a while till he was safely out of sight, and then went to church.

    I still wonder if he made it. If I should have called the police. If it was drink or drugs that had rendered him not only helpless, but life threateningly careless. I sat in church wondering, and worrying. Which raises the interesting question about that Good Samaritan parable. If you have compassion, if you care, if you get involved, it isn't just the use of your donkey and the settling of someone else's expenses; the care itself has some cost attached to it. Worry for the other, even if that other is someone you've never seen before and might never see again, is the inbuilt cost of compassion.I have the uncomfortable feeling I should have done more but don't know what. Now if I'd taken my normal route and gone down our street instead of up the street – I'd never have seen him and saved myself unnecessary worry. Hmmmmm – not sure about that. Hope he's OK though.

  • Under the Rule of Christ – Dimensions of Baptist Spirituality

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    I've changed the image on the side panel. Had enough of my own face for a while. Not that I've gone off it or anything – just think there are other interesting things in the world.

    Amongst those other interesting things is the art work of He Qi. I've known of his work for a while, but recently I've been looking for and looking at images of Jesus that come from cultures other than my own Western, Northern, white, Eurocentric context.

    The picture here of Christ calming the storm, Peace Be Still is a magnificent portrayal of power that is cross shaped, faithful mercy that is dove-shaped, recalling Noah and the rainbow – the colours of the disciples clothes are a fragmented rainbow. I'm on the hunt for a good quality print of this from heqigallery.com. Go look at the site and enjoy the vivid, colour intoxicating images of this remarkable artist. I find this picture as spiritually enriching and textually provocative as any amount of exegesis that lacks imagination. Exegesis that has imagination, will tend to look for and appreciate the ways the biblical text has been interpreted in media other than words, and in disciplines other than biblical criticism and exegesis. This image will feature along with many others from various traditions in the course I'm teaching enxt year on Jesus Through the Centuries and Cultures.

    The book Under the Rule of Christ is due out this month from Smyth and Helwys. Edited by Paul Fiddes it contains seven essays written by Principals of the Baptist Colleges in Britain, exploring various dimensions of Baptist Spirituality. My own essay is on Baptists living under the rule of the Word – Christ and Scripture.

  • The amazing grace of biblical scholars!

    “Amazing”! Amazing how often the word is amazingly overused. Overstatement is one of the most insiduous and pervasive linguistic diseases afflicting contemporary discourse. It’s amazing we put up with it.  If most things are amazing, then jaw-dropping, eye-brow raising genuine astonishment becomes a redundant experience, and wonder is also out of a job.So when referring to human achievement, I try to use the word “amazing” to refer to those things which can be truly praised to the point of admitting I don’t know how they did it, but in humble admiration I stand, (I use the word advisedly), amazed!

    In which case I think Vincent Taylor’s Commentary on the Gospel of Mark, published in 1952 is an amazing work of biblical scholarship and human endeavour.

    Consider.

    It was in process during and beyond the Second War. Taylor was a family man and an active Methodist Churchman. Travel to libraries was limited, the scale of the commentary was towards being a comprehensive summary of previous scholarship with Taylor’s own independent judgement woven through. He was a practitioner of text, form, source and historical criticism, and by the time he wrote his commentary, a scholar immersed in study of NT christology and atonement, evident throughout his exegesis of the Markan passion story. And all this was done before PC’s allowed cut and paste, painless re-drafting, footnote and bibliographic software, file back-up – and before the internet gave access to the bibliosphere and that republic of information communication called cyberspace.

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     And there it stands. An amazing monument to meticulous, persistent, faithful, disciplined labour; described as a no-stone-left-unturned commentary. Part of the MacMillan series, those detailed examinations of text, syntax, Greco-Roman context, classical parallels, verbal studies – a thorough literary dissection aimed at all round textual explanation. The volume is a hefty repository of learning, set out in double columns of smallish print, few concessions to those untrained in the biblical languages, and here and there, in partial explanation of this labour of love, Taylor’s own faith appropriation of the text.

    I remember R E O White telling a story (whether apocryphal anecdote or true memory I never confirmed) of Vincent Taylor and ten tons of topsoil. Asked how he had managed to keep going at the commentary he recalled the delivery of ten tons of topsoil to his front drive at the manse. Over the summer he moved it round to the back of the house to rebuild the garden, shovel by shovel, barrowload by barrowload, till it was moved. The commentary was tackled in the same faithful incremental way.

    Study of Mark’s Gospel has moved beyond Taylor’s work, and the concerns of contemporary scholarship are very different. Numerous and various forms of NT criticism have come and gone, pushing study of Mark’s Gospel in excitingly different directions.  But few commentaries today are written out of a lifetime’s textual cultivation of one allotment in the large acreage of biblical studies. Shovel by shovel, sentence by sentence, over the years, Taylor worked the text of Mark with the thorough patience of the gardener who knows the time it takes to build a garden, work the tilth of the soil, sow seeds and wait for worthwhile growth and eventual  fruit. For that reason, now and again, I open Vincent Taylor’s Commentary on Mark, read him on some passage or other, and thank God for that unsung apostolic succession of  those who have given their lives to scholarly study of the biblical text. They are God’s carefully chosen gifts to us.

  • Reading Job as Theological Education

    In the biography of his father B F Westcott, the Bishop's son recalls the great NT scholar arguing that he would rather assess a student by their ability to set a first class exam paper than to sit one! Westcott believed the ability to identify the significant questions demonstrated a more thorough knowledge of a subject than the ability to mug up satisfactory answers.

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    Like much else, the motivation behind a question reveals something characteristically human – curiosity needn't be mere – curiosity can have the urgency of life and death, or be driven by an inner imperative to know in order to understand. Or the question asked may have an answer that is necessary in order to know what the next question might be, in that endless sequence of exploration that underlies all education – including theological education. And the book of Job is a profoundly disturbing course in theological education – if having the truth of God drawn out of us by having our very humanity questioned, counts as theological education.

    Balentine's commentary on Job is written into that deeply human activity of questioning and being questioned. For those who desire a faith bolted down in certainties and unambiguous answers, 'the gain of certainty has to be measured against the loss of debate'. But for those for whom life is riddled with ambiguity, and faith and trust are tested by extremes of loss and pain, the loss of debate imposes a n unacceptable and dehumanising silencing of that voice through which the question "Why" is and must be spoken. The question "Why" searches the soul, and confronts God in both protest and prayer, both curse and blessing, seeking meaning more than consolation, and articulating in question and argument that which defines a person's humanity – the capacity to suffer, the yearning for love, and the longing to understand.

    When it comes to suffering "for no reason," this book seems intent on reminding us that questions about the world, human existence and God necessarily remain open ended. To settle for anything less is to deny the pain that punctuates every faith assertion with a question mark. (Balentine, 33)