A Christmas Hymn of St. Ambrose

For Christmas, I'll venture a little beyond the Second Temple Period and New Testament era to a fourth-century advent hymn of St. Ambrose, Veni, Redemptor gentium (Come, Thou Savior of Our Race). Among his many accomplishments as a bishop, theologian, and doctor of the Church, Ambrose of Milan was also a gifted hymn-writer whose works have been used in worship for over a millennium. The English translation below is from http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/c/t/s/ctsoorac.htm.

Wishing all readers of this blog a merry Christmas!

Come, Thou Savior of our race,

Choicest Gift of heav’nly grace!

O Thou blessèd virgin’s Son,

Be Thy race on earth begun,

Be Thy race on earth begun.

Not of mortal blood or birth,

He descends from Heaven to earth;

By the Holy Ghost conceived,

God and man by us believed,

God and man by us believed.

Wondrous birth! O wondrous Child

Of the virgin undefiled!

Though by all the world disowned,

Still to be in Heaven enthroned,

Still to be in Heaven enthroned

From the Father forth He came,

And returneth to the same;

Captive leading death and hell—

High the song of triumph swell,

High the song of triumph swell!

Equal to the Father now,

Though to dust Thou once didst bow,

Boundless shall Thy kingdom be;

When shall we its glories see,

When shall we its glories see?

Brightly doth Thy manger shine!

Glorious in its light divine:

Let not sin o’ercloud this light,

Ever be our faith thus bright,

Ever be our faith thus bright.

An Innovative Approach to Addressing Student Debt

It is widely recognized that one of the most serious issues facing undergraduate and graduate students today is the problem of student debt. This issue is particularly significant for divinity students whose vocational aspirations tend toward fields like ministry, teaching, working in non-profit organizations, and other kinds of service professions which do not hold out the promise of high salaries. Divinity schools and seminaries across the country are exploring a variety of ways to address this problem including shortening degree program lengths, using innovative delivery methods, providing debt counseling, and limiting tuition increases. My institution, Regent University School of Divinity, has taken each of these steps, but is also trying an innovative new approach to deal with the problem of student debt.

Thanks to a generous $250,000 grant from the Lilly Endowment's Theological School Initiative to Address Economic Issues Facing Future Ministers program, the School of Divinity has launched a three-year program called "Partners In Ministry Training." This program will  help educate students with regard to securing funding and financial support for their education, as well as provide a means for helping churches partner with divinity students for mutually beneficial relationships. A series of special seminars and training events is planned for students in the program, and the increased availability of ministry opportunities within local churches during students' time at the School of Divinity is also a focus. The program is currently in the process of identifying churches and other organizations who will partner with the School of Divinity in this endeavor. Applications are also being accepted for students who will be beginning their theological studies in Summer or Fall 2015 and who wish to participate in this program. More information is available at this website.

Sixty-seven schools received grants from Lilly totaling over $12 million to experiment with a wide range of new programs to help address the problem of student debt for people going into ministry. It will be exciting to see the results of these efforts in the lives of students and alumni--and the churches that will have partnered with them--in the years to come.

Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies

This weekend I’ll be presenting my paper on “Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies” at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. The session occurs on Sunday from 1 to 3:30pm at the Hilton Bayfront (Sapphire Ballroom M). I’ll make a case that the Psalms of Solomon have more to offer the study of Paul than has been realized. By reading the Psalms of Solomon as a kind of poetry of resistance we can be more attuned to the ways that these psalms functioned for their readers in helping them maintain their deuteronomic and covenantal perspective in the face of current events that might otherwise have led to despair and even abandonment of their cultural and religious traditions. We can also recognize that Paul would have been familiar not just with the theological content within the Psalms of Solomon but more so with the praxis of poetic resistance which they represented--a tradition with deep roots in the Hebrew Scriptures (see the work of Hugh Page along these lines). Thus when Paul uses bits of early Christian psalms or hymns about Christ, we can consider that these may likewise be instances of Paul’s own poetic practice of resistance as he offers his readers an alternative vision of reality from that which was on offer in the world around them.

In addition to the papers of my fellow presenters, prepared responses to my paper are to be given by Pamela Eisenbaum, Iliff School of Theology, Ward Blanton, University of Kent at Canterbury, and N. T. Wright, University of St. Andrews.

Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning

In the first chapter of The Heart of Higher Education: A Call to Renewal, Parker Palmer outlines some elements that contribute to a philosophy of what he and others have called “integrated education.” Integrated learning models typically center on techniques and approaches to learning that can help bridge the gap between discrete disciplines and enable students to make connections across the curriculum in ways that are holistic rather than piecemeal. These models include many now familiar elements such as capstone courses, linked courses, service learning, team teaching, first-year experiences, and other creative ways of engaging students as whole persons. While the value of many of these techniques have been recognized, in his chapter “Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning,” Palmer addresses not the practices themselves but an underlying philosophy of education that drives the integrated education model. He does this by outlining four categories: ontology, epistemology, pedagogy, and ethics.

The “ontological reality” that Palmer discusses (pp. 25-26) is based on new developments in science that have moved from atomic theory (an understanding of reality as a bunch of individual atoms) to a quantum theory which sees each particle as existing only in relation to other particles. This more relational approach to reality leads to seeing the cosmos as “a historical community of interdependent beings” (citing Ian Barbour). This understanding supports learning that is integrated and understood in ways that are interactive and interconnected across many disciplines.

Palmer discusses an “epistemological necessity” (pp. 27-29), by which he means that “we cannot know this communal reality truly and well unless we ourselves are consciously and actively in community with it as knowers” (27). Here he draws on Polanyi’s Personal Knowledge. He also discusses the issue of objectivity and argues that one can “know a relational reality only by being in relation to it” (28). He gives a terrific example of geneticist and Nobel Prize winner Barbara McCLintock who eschews remaining distant and objective: “Over and over again she tells us one must have the time to look, the patience to ‘hear what the material has to say to you,’ the openness to ‘let it come to you.’ Above all, one must have ‘a feeling for the organism.’“ (28, citing Evelyn Fox Keller’s book chronicling her work). As a scholar of early Jewish and Christian texts, I was struck by this statement and the realization that my own study of these texts has been most enlivened when I’ve approached these texts not as “ancient artifacts to be studied” but as the words of poets and authors who wished to communicate something that was of deep significance to them as human beings.

As “a pedagogical asset” (pp. 29-31) the ontology and epistemology lead to teaching that attends to the nature of the relationships between teacher and student, student and student, and student and subject. Hospitality becomes a key feature here as space is made for safe relationships where—I was surprised to see—academic and intellectual rigor can be expected. This approach to teaching brings together the “hard” virtues of scholarship and the “soft” virtues of community so that the deepest kind of learning can take place.

The “ethical corrective” (pp. 31-33) of which Palmer writes is the result of this relational learning: it results in an engagement with the world with a moral component. Not as an “add-on” but as a natural consequence of relating to the material rather than objectively learning facts about it. Palmer gives an example of his own learning about the Holocaust (in an objective way) versus later coming to grips with the kinds of systemic practices and forces which lay behind the Holocaust and continue to shape aspects of human existence even in Palmer’s own world and own mind.

In these ways, Palmer outlines a compelling case for seeing integrative education as a model for education that accords with the latest scientific research on the nature of reality as being interconnected and relational, that aligns with the rich and deep ways in which humans can truly come to know things, that has specific implications for classroom instruction, and that leads to meaningful ethical reflection rather than an artificial, ethically-stunted distance from a given subject. Those unfamiliar with the work of Parker Palmer but who are interested in seeing their students grow and learn in ways that prepare them for lives of meaningful service beyond the walls of the university will find some welcome assistance here in understanding why those aspirations make sense and why they should not be abandoned even in the face of many other pressures.

Lucian's "The Ignorant Book Collector:" When a Classic Hits a Little too Close to Home

My former professor and good friend David Aune recently passed on to me a generous selection of some of the volumes he had collected from the Loeb Classical Library. I was thrilled to receive this kind gift since, as a doctoral student, I had only been able to acquire but a bare minimum of Loeb volumes, and in the intervening years, I have had little need to enhance my collection (being close to a university library at all times). But since my graduate student days I, like many, had become enamored with the sharp wit and incisive prose of Lucian (a second century Greek writer and satirist). My favorite was his "Alexander the False Prophet," and I am proud to say that I did already own the volume that contains that piece. So I was thus quite delighted to find among the volumes that David sent me volume three of the eight volumes of Lucian included in the LCL. Given my predilection for Lucian, this was the first of the volumes David sent me that I chose to spend some time looking through (with my apologies to Homer and Plutarch). On perusing the table of contents I was intrigued to find an essay entitled "The Ignorant Book Collector." As expected, the essay highlights the folly of an individual who prides himself in acquiring a large library of fine volumes in the hopes that he will gain a reputation as a learned and wise man among his peers. As I prepare to unload these green and red Loeb volumes onto my own office shelves, I cannot help but pause to consider the irony of having received this fine set of books in which the first thing I read is an essay which criticizes book owners who are not worthy of the books they possess. And so I'll quote Harmon's translation of a particular convicting paragraph of this essay:

What good, you strange person, will it do you to own them, when you do not understand their beauty and will never make use of it one whit more than a blind man would enjoy beauty in favourites ? To be sure you look at your books with your eyes open and quite as much as you like, and you read some of them aloud with great fluency, keeping your eyes in advance of your lips; but I do not consider that enough, unless you know the merits and defects of each passage in their contents, unless you understand what every sentence means, how to construe the words, what expressions have been accurately turned by the writer in accordance with the canon of good use, and what are false, illegitimate, and counterfeit. (Lucian, Vol. 3, LCL, p. 177 trans Harmon)

Ouch. To be sure, Lucian raises a high standard of what it would take to really be counted as a learned and erudite reader of ancient texts. I don't dare to hope to go so far as to "know the merits and defects of each passage" in my new collection of Loeb volumes. But I am reminded by his sarcasm and wit, once again, that the value of the classics for a scholar of Christianity and Judaism in antiquity is not so much in understanding the origins of key words or interesting parallels or giving in to "parallelomania," but rather in coming to grips with the thought world which informs ancient Greek and Roman authors of all stripes. With such a broad understanding, scholars of early Judaism and early Christianity can more fully appreciate the world in which educated Jews and Christians contributed their own works and can more effectively articulate the kind of meaningful connections by which these authors engaged the thoughts and hopes and fears of that world in light of their understanding of the actions of the God of Israel in history.

Accordingly, I am grateful to David for this kind gift. And I am energized, once again, as I aim not to be deserving of being counted as a distant descendant of Lucian's ignorant book collector, but instead to be counted among those who truly benefit from wide reading. Not to be known as someone with a passion for expensive books, but rather to be known as one who has begun to take the time to understand these books in ways that open up understanding and enhance my ability to think carefully, critically, and creatively. But for now, I should probably set as my first goal just to unpack the boxes and start reading.

Scot McKnight's Kingdom Conspiracy: A Response

The PhD program at the School of Divinity hosted Scot McKnight this past week. Scot gave a lecture on Tuesday afternoon on "Kingdom Mission as Church Mission: Re-centering the Church in God’s Mission in this World." In it (and in his new book) he argues, controversially, that "the kingdom" is "the church." While they are not identical when used in Scripture, they are, paradoxically, the same, Scot claims. I was asked to provide the response to Scot's paper. A slightly edited version of my response is below:

Thank you to Professor McKnight for a very stimulating lecture. There is much that we all should be grateful for in Professor McKnight’s lecture today and in his recent volume Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church. 

First, we should be grateful to Professor McKnight for bringing to the forefront an important issue on which there is a wide range of views within the Christian community. Kingdom mission; Kingdom work. When Christians use these terms, to what are they referring? What is “kingdom work”? Is it implementing and advocating for social justice for the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized; serving their physical, emotional needs (i.e. social action as advocated by what McKnight calls the "Skinny Jeans pastors")? Or is it more spiritual in nature: participating in the redemptive work of God in the world, facilitating evangelism and the turning to faith of people who were alienated from God (i.e. personal salvation as advocated by those whom McKnight labels the "Pleated Pants crowd")? Or is it some combination of these views, a “third way” in which the Pleated Pants crowd joins hands with the Skinny Jeans pastors to see ‘redemption’ in cultural and political terms such that kingdom work describes public activism? These are great questions, particularly for a context like Regent University with its mission of “Christian leadership to change the world.” Are Christian leaders in education, business, psychology, law, government, entertainment, and other professions doing “kingdom work”? Or are they doing something else as they embody the life of Christ within these various contexts?

Second, we should be grateful to Professor McKnight that he has done so in such an engaging and interesting way. This is not the kind of dry academic volume such as someone like, oh, let’s say, “I” might write. It is replete with pop culture references, literary references, provocative claims, and penetrating questions. Quotations from Marilyn Robinson’s Gilead are peppered throughout. And you know this must be a good book since our own Michael Palmer is fond of quoting it from time to time. I recommend it to you all for the enjoyable read that it is, as well as the deep insights about ministry and tragedy that are found throughout. Here is a quote from Gilead that may be relevant to some of us in this setting:

“I've developed a great reputation for wisdom by ordering more books than I ever had time to read, and reading more books, by far, than I learned anything useful from, except, of course, that some very tedious gentlemen have written books.” (this quote cited at goodreads.com)

Professor McKnight being not one of those very tedious gentlemen, this is one way to “do theology” that is engaging and compelling and that can reach a broader audience than just the kinds of people taking classes at a university or a divinity school.

Third, we can thank Professor McKnight for taking a truly novel approach to clarifying this issue: actually going back to the Bible see what the Bible might have to say about it. And here is a model not just for students but a reminder for all of us; if we wish to hear the Bible on its own terms on a particular issue, we need to do the difficult and diligent work of getting into the text, understanding its context, and hearing it as it was first heard. While we did not get the benefit of all of the exegetical work this afternoon, I can assure you that you can find evidence of it within the book itself.

Fourth, we can appreciate Professor McKnight’s attempt to engage with a wide range of biblical texts as well as with a wide range of contemporary authors. As someone who works in New Testament and early Jewish writings I was very pleased to see a section on the Psalms of Solomon as a text that illumines the similarities and differences among early Jewish views of Kingdom right around the time of Jesus. I was also pleased to see Professor McKnight’s engagement with contemporary theologians, practitioners, and writers such as Stanely Hauerwas, Miroslav Volf, James K. A. Smith, Tim Keller, and James Davison Hunter among others.

Well then, with all of that to be thankful for, it is time to ask: in consulting the biblical text as well as this wide range of contemporary authors, what has he found? Well, I guess it is good news and bad news at the same time. Whichever crowd you are in, pleated pants or skinny jeans, the good news is...that the other crowd has got it wrong. The bad news is, your crowd has it wrong too.

Several questions occurred to me as I read through McKnight's volume and listened to him this afternoon. First, why does this matter? Second, what are the implications for Christians at work in the world in a wide range of situations, occupations, and callings? If only a small slice of what Christians do in the world is "kingdom work," that is, only what is done in and through the church, then there is significant potential for devaluing work done by believers outside of the church. McKnight does not intend for this to be an outcome of his study, and he hits this head on in the book:

“I am 100 percent in favor of Christian engagement in social activism… What I am not in favor of is assigning the word “kingdom” to such actions in order to render that action sacred or to justify that action as supernatural or to give one the sense that what she or he is doing is ultimately significant. When we assign the word ‘kingdom’ to good deeds in the public sector for the common good, we take a word that belongs in one place (the church) and apply it in another (the world). In so doing we run the risk of diminishing church at the expense of the world” (115)

Third, beyond what we call our work, what are the implications for how Christians actually do social action or pursue social justice?

Fourth, what to do with the term kingdom itself? One problem with the term is that it strikes different tones depending on when and where you use it. Professor McKnight is well aware of this and takes careful account of that. But in reading the first few chapter of the book, I began to wonder if perhaps the term kingdom is in itself problematic. Psalms of Solomon, for example, shows that the oppressive rule of the Hasmoneans, and then the brutal invasion and rule of the Romans were extremely problematic for faithful Jews hoping to experience the promises of the covenant. But they also show that for some Jews the answer was, as we know, a simple and powerful act of complete reversal: a militant messiah who would kick the Gentiles out of Jerusalem, destroy the oppressors, and rule with justice. But it may be the case that this mode of messiahship adopts too much of the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman approach to political order. I don’t think the authors of the Pss Sol would see a problem with this, but clearly the messiahship that Jesus brought about in proclaiming and inaugurating the kingdom of God was a kingdom that was much, much different than what the authors of Pss Sol envisioned. Perhaps the word kingdom is part of the problem since it surely means something much different if you lived in the reign of King David than if you lived in the Babylonian exile or in the days of Herod the Great. Must followers of Jesus today adopt a guiding motif that is so influenced by anti-Christian values of power, domination, and oppression, as it is experienced throughout much of history?

I would like to probe some of these conclusions and questions with a look at one of the earliest portrayals of Jesus; not in a narrative, like in the gospels; something earlier than that. Not in a straightforward description or summary such as sometimes occurs in Paul; something earlier than that. I am thinking of a passage like Philippians 2:6-11, which may be something of an early Christian poem or hymn that Paul cites within his letter. If it predates Paul's letter then it reflects a very early poetic meditation that remembers Jesus in a particular way. The passage is no doubt familiar to all of us, but I think if we read it with an ear for “kingdom” dynamics, several things will jump out:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

6          who, though he was in the form of God,

                        did not regard equality with God

                        as something to be exploited,

If we can pause here, just briefly, we may note that there were folks in the ancient world grasping after divine honors, and even exploiting those dynamics. Not the early Christians, not the Jews, but the Roman emperors, and in particular, the provincial rulers who had everything to gain and nothing to lose by emphasizing the divine honors they might bestow on the emperor. Jesus is remembered in a way that contrasts sharply with the shameless grasping for power and honor that was part of the Roman provincial system. Reading on:

7          but emptied himself,

                        taking the form of a slave,

                        being born in human likeness.

And here we read about both the incarnation as well as the identification of Christ with the exploited, the oppressed, and the least, taking the form of a slave.

            And being found in human form,

8                      he humbled himself

                        and became obedient to the point of death—

                        even death on a cross.

And here we have what I take to be the center point of the passage, both visually and grammatically. The death on a cross. The instrument of torture and death within the Roman empire is celebrated at the center point and at the turning point of this poetic remembrance of Jesus. This king has thrown off every marker of human kingship: honor, pride, position, and even life.

 

9              Therefore God also highly exalted him

                        and gave him the name

                        that is above every name,

And here we are confronted with language that resonates with that of the prophets of Israel.

10        so that at the name of Jesus

                        every knee should bend,

                        in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

And this is language that now identifies Jesus as the exalted ruler of all; the true king.

11        and every tongue should confess

                        that Jesus Christ is Lord,

                        to the glory of God the Father. (NRSV)

And we find Jesus exalted as Lord, kyrios. And in this context in which divine honors have already been raised, it is surely significant that Jesus is identified with the title of kyrios in contrast to others to whom that title had been applied.

This lordship, kingship, of Christ is a very odd one indeed. Professor McKnight reminds us that the king determines the nature of the kingdom, and accordingly notes that kingdom mission is cruciform in nature. Cruciform, incarnational, self giving. But if the notion of kingdom and kingship is turned upside down by Jesus and becomes a counter-cultural expression, perhaps there is another word to describe the work of God among his people and the work of God’s people in the world.

For those Christians seeking to follow Christ the king, and to submit their lives to the authority of this king, Professor McKnight gives us a splendid set of ideas to think about and a way forward that should lead to some very stimulating dialogue; particularly since some of us may find that we are doing kingdom work, in his paradigm, while some of us may be surprised to learn that we are not.

Thank you, Professor McKnight, and we look forward to engaging in this conversation together with you.

Textbooks Announced for Spring Graduate Seminar on Worship in the New Testament

I’ve just finalized the textbooks for my spring 2015 graduate course entitled “Worship in the New Testament.”  In addition to the texts below, we will be working through a selection of my own materials on the Greco-Roman and Jewish contexts for the worship practices of the earliest Christian communities.

Master’s students will be required to purchase and engage with the following texts:

• Barker, Margaret. Temple Themes in Christian Worship. London; New York: T & T Clark, 2007. ISBN: 978-0567032768.
• Hurtado, Larry W. At the Origins of Christian Worship: The Context and Character of Earliest Christian Devotion. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000. ISBN: 978-0-8028-4749-2.
• McGowan, Andrew Brian. Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical, and Theological Perspective. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014. ISBN: 9780801031526.

In addition to the above texts, PhD students will be required to purchase and engage critically with the following:

• Bradshaw, Paul F. The Search for the Origins of Christian Worship: Sources and Methods for the Study of Early Liturgy. 2nd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002. ISBN: 978-0195217322.
• Hurtado, Larry W. Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003. ISBN: 978-0802831675.

Looking forward to an exciting semester of careful reading of the New Testament in its social and historical context as we consider what the New Testament and other early Christian writings have to tell us about the earliest Christian worship practices.

A Contemporary Challenge to the Gospel Call for Charity [a guest blog by Jack Conroy]

This post is the work of my good friend (and also my first guest-blogger) Jack Conroy, Ph.D., Retired Assistant Professor of Theology. Thank you Jack for your contribution to this blog.

A Contemporary Challenge to the Gospel Call for Charity

Matthew 25:31-46 has been well known as being the Scriptural root of organized charity. In it we have the Son of Man who sits on a glorious throne before all the nations and separates everyone as a shepherd separates sheep from goats. The sheep have the honorific location on his right and the goats on his left. What is the rationale? Four times in the pericope the rationale is given: response or non-responses to hunger, thirst, being a stranger, lack of clothing and alienation because of prison. Why would anyone feed others or give drink or any of the other activities listed? The “punch line” is verse 40: “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” We have two issues: a) the recipients are the “least.” This implies that there are people who are at the bottom of the social scale, and these have needs that for some reason are not being met. And b) the Son of Man/King identifies with these least, so that one responds not just to an impoverished individual, but to the Son of Man; of course, the reader knows that the Son of Man is Jesus himself, who gave himself for all of us. This affirms that the “least” of human beings have the same dignity as Jesus. It is a primary reason that people will give of their wealth to those less fortunate.

We were fortunate to have a Kenneth Burns film on the Roosevelts shown recently for a full week. Perhaps the most interesting element focused on Eleanor Roosevelt; she was the first advocate for government to take a positive role in the alleviation of the suffering in our society. She was not portrayed as a religious person acting out of a gospel mandate. She just sensed a need and then worked to respond to that need, whether it be food or drink or clothing. Her influence on FDR reflected itself in the multiplicity of government programs where the economic life was not segregated from the political life.

We find ourselves today in a world Eleanor would not have imagined. The problem is that about 42 million people in the US live below the poverty level. That’s about 13 percent of our population. Now there exist many programs to respond to this reality, including food stamps, rent assistance, utility assistance and free medical and dental services provided by various governmental agencies. The difficulty is that the variety of programs have in some cases created a multi-generational reliance on government instead of on a culture of work. Thomas Piketty has written a book called Capital in the Twenty-first Century that draws from extensive research the conclusion that inequality in the world is growing, and that with the larger number of impoverished people in the system, social instability is a potential result. He drew the conclusion that it was this inequality that produced the French Revolution, and suggests that other revolutions could be in the offing.

So, here’s the problem:

• Our biblical roots demand response to those who are “least.”
• Reliance on individuals did not solve the problem, historically, so Government stepped in.
• Many have become reliant on the Government and, for a complex set of reasons, find they don't need to—or are unable to—work.
• They become angered at the system since they remain in poverty and consider revolution to be the answer.

Where’s the solution?

This, I propose, is a field of research that could be effected through an intellectual team of theologians, economists and business-school scholars. Great universities have focused their research on science and technology.  Here is an area where co-operating scholars operating together might come up with a socially acceptable solution that would provide guidance for those who see Matthew 25 as a springboard for solving the problem of what happens to “the Least.”