Commands of Jesus We Happily Ignore

I guess I have not read Mt 23:1-12 in a long time because when I read it in today’s Lenten gospel reading it really struck me that we Christians are highly selective in what aspects of Jesus’s teaching we follow. In this passage alone are several commands which Christians simply bypass. Jesus says, “Do whatever they [the Pharisees and scribes] teach you and follow it.” And later on he instructs them that they are not to be called “teacher,” “father,” or “instructor.” For my part, I don’t know anyone who takes these instructions at face value. I don’t know of any Christians who make pharisaic teaching a priority or who consciously seek to follow the teachings of the scribes and Pharisees from the first century. And as for not calling anyone father or teacher?

The reason for this is that we (appropriately) interpret the teachings of Jesus in light of their larger contexts: literary, cultural, and historical. In Jesus’s teaching in Mt 23:1-12 his main point is clear and is explicit in v. 12: “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.” And Jesus makes this point, like any good teacher, through memorable statements and illustrations, and, in this case, through hyperbole. We know he doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t call anyone father; his point is that God is the one Father of all humanity, and humans shouldn’t take on titles that obscure that reality. If we were to obey that literal “command” we would actually be missing the point.

So as we read this passage in context, we take it as condemnation of those who teach the right thing but do not embody the accompanying humility; we take it on ourselves that we should follow that particular teaching (the humility part), and view the rest as somehow less important.

This is all very interesting to me as a professor of scripture since it raises all kinds of issues of interpretation. When people say they take the Bible literally, or just read the Bible and do what it says, it is just not so simple. Every reader of scripture must make these kinds of interpretive decisions on nearly every line. This is part of the “fun” of reading the Bible! But it can also be a source of real division when one group interprets a passage one way and another group takes it entirely differently—and then those differing interpretations are used to test whether one is “in” or “out” of “our” group.

The reality is that no one reads the Bible in a vacuum, free of other influences. Alongside the Bible we have a history of interpretation that is part of whatever Christian tradition we find ourselves in. In addition to our tradition, we also have our own reason and our own experience. Taken together, tradition, reason, and experience play very important roles in our interpretation of a sacred text like the Bible. This is as it should be, but sometimes we may forget this and think that what we are “seeing” in the text is the one obvious meaning. An awareness of the interplay of these various influences might at least give us some intellectual and spiritual humility as we engage with the views and interpretations of others who differ from us.

As for the point of this passage in Matthew, we are aided by other references throughout the New Testament to the importance of humility and taking the attitude of a servant. In fact, in one of the earliest examples we have of a hymn in praise of Jesus, it is the humility of Jesus that is the subject of the praise:

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,
7 but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
8 he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5-8)

In view of this emphasis on humility, this Lenten season seems to be a perfect time to exhibit humility about our interpretation of scripture. (And if you disagree with me about that...well, ok.)

Imagine Better

“We do not need magic to change the world. We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.”

-J.K. Rowling’s 2008 commencement speech at Harvard University

As an educator in a college that includes the liberal arts and sciences as well as education, this quote really resonates with me. And, in my most optimistic moments, I like to think that this is one of the best things that an education grounded in the liberal arts provides for students: a capacity for imagination. An ability to see problems and challenges from multiple perspectives, and to draw on a wide range of knowledge and experiences to imagine solutions and ways forward that can lead to a better world. I don’t have to look very far to find examples of graduates who are doing just that.

 At the same time, I have to acknowledge that few students see it this way as they begin their educational journey in college. Education for all but a few is instrumental—a means to an end. Get a degree to get a job. I don’t say that to lament this reality; just to acknowledge it.

Where and when does the capacity to imagine better enter in?

From the vantage point of my academic discipline—biblical studies—I see the shaping of the human imagination as a major part of what the biblical writers were about. Through narratives, through psalms, even through letters, the biblical writers invited their readers to envision a world in which God was at work. As much as Christians have prioritized doctrine and right-beliefs over the centuries, it seems to me that the biblical writers were interested in inviting readers to see themselves in a world in which the God who created the world was also actively at work. And from there, to imagine their part as participants in God’s ongoing work of creation and new creation and to enjoy the realities of what it means to be a child of God. And if that is one way that “imagining better” is reflected in the discipline of biblical studies, there are many, many other ways it is reflected in other subjects, all of which contribute to a well-rounded liberal arts education. Ideally.

A recent essay in the Chronicle of Higher Education laments the piling up of BS in higher education. The author, sociologist and professor Christian Smith, lists many things that he considers BS. It is an extensive list of things that, for the most part, are ingrained features and aspects of contemporary higher education that distract from or distort the best of what higher education could be. One could argue with any of his individual laments about the nuances and complexity of each one, but the collective force of the list is jarring. It suggests that, taken together, there are some very serious systemic problems in higher education. But three points of analysis stand out to me.

First, ideas have consequences. The kinds of ideas and thinking that develop in universities make their way into society over time. Accordingly, the currents of BS flowing through universities today will become visible in our public and political life and, Smith claims, actually already are visible in our current highly polarized and divisive political rhetoric. Our institutions of higher learning are supposed to be producing educated citizens and leaders who can participate in the political process and find new solutions to problems, but apparently they have not done so.

Second, Smith notes that many of the people perpetuating the BS within institutions of higher education are well-intentioned people who are doing so unwittingly; with the best of intentions they are participating in a system that is flawed and by participating in it and contributing to it, they contribute to the problems.

Third, what is needed are those who can creatively break out of the current paradigm and foster new forms of higher education that reflect the ideal of what liberal education is all about. Some combination of “visionary traditionalism” (I really like that phrase) and “organizational radicalism” is what is called for. The author suggests we need “people with the capacity to retrieve and revitalize the best of higher education’s past and restructure it in ways that are most effective in the future” (Smith, “Higher Ed is Drowning in BS”).

The solution for higher education is not going to be found in a wholesale return to the past, but it can likely be found in the heart of what higher education, particularly in the liberal arts tradition, is: critical reflection and creative thinking. About the past; about the present; about the future. About problems; about possibilities. Imagining better.

Those of us in higher education need to imagine better for the sake of higher education so that our students can imagine greater for their lives, their communities, and the world as a whole. And I think further that those of us in Christian higher education and at faith-based institutions can look to the examples of prophets and poets in ages past who, through their writings now preserved as scripture, invite all of us to imagine better. And perhaps we all can find this current in different ways in whatever subject area we are passionate about.

Jesus in the Wilderness

“And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness” (Mark 1:12)

Lately I am not into wilderness. I don’t want to be in a place, physical or metaphorical, where I am at the mercy of the elements, where I am unsafe, where my very survival is at issue. I much prefer to be in control of my surroundings, feel safe in the life I have ordered, and have my mind on things higher up on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs than simply staying alive. Therapeutic moral deism—a popular distortion of Christianity which envisions a God whose sole purposes are to improve my life and help me follow clearly demarcated moral guidelines—encourages me, perhaps unintentionally, to avoid the wilderness. But here in the gospels, Jesus is led (driven!) by the Spirit into the wilderness. And here in Lent, if I am to enter into this season of reflection, I am invited to reflect on the reality of wilderness. And I am beginning to think that, in many ways, I am in the wilderness like it or not, so I might as well face it.

The biblical scholar in me is helpful at this point. I can take a step back from my personal feelings about entering the wilderness and ask what wilderness meant to the gospel writers, when they chose to include this detail from the life of Jesus in their narratives. Recognizing the cultural, historical, and literary context of this event from the life of Jesus is a good starting point. Such reflection can provide some guidance for more personal reflections about wilderness.

source: faith.nd.edu

For Jewish writers in the first century, the wilderness could be viewed as a place of individual isolation and struggle, but that was not its only meaning. The theme of “wilderness” also had many other connections, some with deep roots in the Jewish worldview embraced by the New Testament writers. Wilderness was the place where their ancestors had wandered for forty years: a place of communal (rather than individual) purification and testing. It was also a place of a place of divine revelation. Moses is associated with the wilderness, encountering God at the burning bush and receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai, in addition to leading the Israelites through their wilderness wanderings. All of these aspects of Israelite history suggest the importance of wilderness for the early Jewish worldview. In addition, in the period of the Second Temple, the wilderness was a place where rebel leaders against oppressive regimes had gathered their forces, particularly in the Maccabean era. Finally, the wilderness has associations with the concept of exile: the forced removal of the people of Israel from the land of promise during the era of the monarchy. Though the Bible also recounts a return from exile in the era of king Cyrus, for many Jewish authors in the Second Temple period, the exile continued to define their reality as separated in some way from the covenant blessings of God.

With this rich palate of associations related to the idea of “wilderness,” any serious reader of the New Testament might want to pause to consider what particular connotations may be in mind when a gospel writer explicitly points out that Jesus was led into the wilderness. One might expect divine encounters and divine revelation in a narrative that involves a journey into the wilderness. (For an accessible and helpful look at the significance of the wilderness in the era of the New Testament, see Daniel Smith’s Into the World of the New Testament, especially chapter four).

To me, it seems that the notion of the wilderness in these passages makes a link between Jesus and Moses very strong. Such a connection is supported when we see other places in the gospels where Jesus and Moses are both shown to be a part of God’s working in the world (see John 1:17, for example). The full significance of Jesus can only be appreciated when his advent is seen as part of the long history of God’s working in the world. For the earliest Christians, themselves Jews, the significance of Moses and the Torah cannot be overestimated. Thus, in his being led into the wilderness, Jesus is shown to be a participant in God’s age old plan of redemption of God’s people. And this to me is a vital recognition: for the gospel writers Jesus is not just a radical new initiative on the part of God to redeem humanity. Jesus is part of God’s plans from of old. “Wilderness,” as a theme, is one way of showing that connection to the reader.

This way of reading the wilderness temptation of Jesus does not preclude the idea that Jesus models a personal practice of piety in which one is purified through time alone in the wilderness, even as one faces and strives to resist temptation. Christians have always identified personally with this narrative, finding in it encouragement and hope when in temptation. But it is important to also recall that a personal application of this passage to “my life” is not the whole story. Jesus’s going into the wilderness is a way of the gospel writer saying: “Hey, pay attention. This story I am recounting is not only about a unique individual overcoming temptation; what follows will be rich with divine revelation.” Just as God was revealed in the wilderness in the past, God is being revealed in the gospel in the life of Jesus, albeit in a new way. The gospel writers are inviting us to make the connection that this story (the story of Jesus) is part of that story (the story of God and God’s people). New Testament historian N. T. Wright puts it this way: “Jesus is acting out the great drama of Israel’s exodus from Egypt, Israel’s journey through the wilderness into the promised land” (Mark for Everyone, p. 6).

When I think about this passage, yes it can lead me to think about my own experience of wilderness, my own experience of exile. I can take comfort in knowing that Jesus was in the wilderness as well, and that I am not alone in whatever physical or spiritual wilderness I find myself. Those are good things to consider. But I can also consider the larger idea that the story of Jesus is a part of the ancient story of God’s redemptive work in the world.

The prophet Isaiah’s words are thus a very apt reminder of the rich tapestry of wilderness themes throughout scripture: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3). So whether I find myself in a real or metaphorical wilderness, such a place is a fitting one in which to prepare the way of the Lord.

"Holy Envy" at Lent

Being raised in a Christian tradition that did not follow the liturgical calendar (well, we had Christmas and Easter; plus, for the really devout, Good Friday), I’ve always felt like something of an outsider when it comes to the season of Lent. I envy my sisters and brothers from other traditions for whom the ebb and flow of the church calendar is a way of deepening, reflecting on, and putting into tangible practice their devotion to God. In a recent On Being podcast Krista Tippet interviewed a rabbi and a Muslim chaplain about their interfaith work. One of them raised the notion of “holy envy:” being able to appreciate something about another tradition that is absent (or less present) in one’s own. Today I still wrestle with what Lent should mean or could mean for me, and the concept of “holy envy” provides me an interesting way of thinking about it this year. And yet, the practices that Lent invites and inspires are not unique to any one tradition but are essential practices of Christian faith: fasting, prayer, reflection, contemplation. But in this season they take on a new significance as we are invited to participate in them again and anew.

This week Carlow’s Center for Mercy Heritage provided the following suggestions as to how we might both fast and feast during the Lenten season.

Fast from:	Feast On:
judging others, emphasis on differences, the darkness, thoughts of illness, words that pollute us, withholding anger, idle gossip, pessimism, worry, guilt, complaining, stress, hostility, bitterness, selfishness, discouragement, apathy, suspicion, being so busy, talking,	the Christ dwelling in them our oneness the light of Christ the healing power of God words that purify sharing feelings spreading good news optimism trust freedom appreciation self-care letting go forgiveness compassion hope enthusiasm seeing the good quiet silence listening

Many of these are very attractive ideas to which I can easily assent. Who doesn’t want more optimism, hope, and compassion in their lives? But to actually fast from something like “stress” or “being so busy” and to feast on something like “quiet silence” or “self-care” seems a tall order. Even more so to feast on “our oneness” and “the light of Christ.” And yet, as conceptual and ethereal as these ideas are, faith tells us that they are also very real.

The brilliant author of the Fourth Gospel put it this way in the magnificent hymn which opens this work: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). By faith, Christians recognize this to be true today as well.

So in our present world in which there is both light and darkness, Lent seems an opportunity to adjust our gaze away from the darkness and again toward the light of Christ: “the true light which enlightens every person” (John 1:9). So “holy envy” or not, I’ll enter this Lenten season with my brothers and sisters to see how we may be enlightened together.

Bono and Beatitudes

The beatitudes keep coming across my frame of reference lately. A colleague is teaching a new course called “The Composition of Happiness” in which she surveys a wide range of writings that address happiness and what it means to be truly happy. She got in touch with me about the week in which her students will be reading the beatitudes and asked for some background information I had that might help in opening up their meaning. Sure thing, I said, and sent her a few introductory pieces that I thought would be helpful, particularly seeing the beatitudes in the larger context of Jesus’s famous Sermon on the Mount. Of particular interest is the idea that there are two versions of the beatitudes, one in Matthew 5 and one in Luke 6. Each author provides a slightly different take on what Jesus taught in the parables, giving us a concrete illustration of the idea that differences of interpretation of the words of Jesus is not a new thing: it was already happening with the writing of the New Testament. For example, Luke has “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (6:20), which links well with Luke’s concern that the good news about Jesus is for all people, including the poor and the marginalized. Matthew, with a concern for the qualities Christians ought to embody as members of the Church, takes a more spiritual approach: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (5:3). A similar variation happens in the beatitude about those “who hunger” (in Luke) versus those who “hunger and third for righteousness” (in Matthew). It is fascinating how each author picks up on a different dimension of what Jesus taught.

More challenging is figuring out what the beatitudes actually mean. Are these statements prescriptive telling us how we should be or live? Or are they descriptive, describing the way it is in God’s kingdom, the people who are blessed in God’s eyes though not necessarily in the world around us? My sense is that the beatitudes are largely a counter-cultural announcement of the reversals that Jesus was inaugurating with the arrival of the new age of his advent. He, as he often did, took conventional thinking and turned it on its head. He called people “blessed” that the world would never consider to be so. At any rate, those are the kinds of issues that the beatitudes raise for those who ponder them. Incidentally, I pointed my colleague to the Bible Odyssey website produced by the Society of Biblical Literature as a means of promoting general understanding of the Bible from an informed, academic perspective. For anyone wondering what might be called the “academic” perspective on the Bible, the Bible Odyssey site is a good entry point. As a good academic site it points to research and information about genre, significance, and cultural context. Those looking for an approach that is more devotional/doctrinally oriented can find many of those, including sites like GotQuestions.org.

Since sending her that information, I’ve become enamored with U2’s new album, Songs of Experience. One song (“Get Out of Your Own Way”) ends and another (“American Soul”) begins with Kendrick Lamar reciting a contemporary “re-interpretation” of the beatitudes. In it, he turns the genre on its head and uses the expectations generated by beatitude-style language to surprise us and confront us. 

Blessed are the arrogant, for theirs is the kingdom of their own company.

Blessed are the superstars, for the magnificence in their light, we understand better our own insignificance.

Blessed are the filthy rich, for you can only truly own what you give away, like your pain.

Blessed are the bullies, for one day they will have to stand up to themselves.

Blessed are the liars, for the truth…can be awkward.

This reinterpretation “works” because we have a certain expectation about what a beatitude should be and communicate. It should tell us about those who are in a favored situation for whatever reason—those that God blesses. However, these beatitudes take qualities that we associate with ungodly traits and values, and makes them at least sound like a source of blessing. But when we consider each line on its own, we see that it is not really a blessing at all; each line contains within its logic a reversal for these individuals who embody these traits (and in the context of the album, it is clear that one might picture a certain reality TV star on the mind of Bono as he wrote this).

This notion of “reversal” is central to the genre of beatitudes. And it is interesting here to note again that Jesus’s beatitudes were a portrayal of reversal as well. When he used the genre of beatitude, it was not normal for anyone to consider the poor, the hungry, the persecuted as being “blessed” in any way. So Jesus himself took a genre that already existed and turned it on its head to give us our expectation of beatitudes as we have them today. U2 has taken the genre and used it in a similar way to call out some concerning trends in our public figures.

Last week I came across another “reinterpretation” of the beatitudes in a new document from the Sisters of Mercy—a document they wrote calling for the Sisters to work on global partnering with other groups to address issues of degradation of God’s earth and of the suffering of displaced peoples. This version, I think, captures not the surprise twist that U2’s do, but rather this version captures the heart of the message of Jesus. See what you think:

The Beatitudes as we see the world today, developed by Anna, Mary, and Chris.

1. Blessed are those who live from the depths of their being.

They will see, radiate and attract goodness and know true freedom.

2. Blessed are those who recognise that our earth is in mourning because of human abuse and destruction.

They will comfort it.

3. Blessed are those who recognise their littleness in the whole of the cosmos.

They shall share in the co-creation of an unfinished universe.

4. Blessed are those who live in right relationship with all of life.

They will bring about change in the world.

5. Blessed are the merciful.

For they shall know the heart of God.

6. Blessed are those who are so in God's love.

They shall know it is God who lives and acts in them.

7. Blessed are those who live in harmony with all earth's creatures.

They will come to experience a deep peace within themselves.

8. Blessed are those who seek justice for people who are throwaways in our society.

They will know the true worth of all of Creation.

~ Brisbane Group, Ireland

(Source: Mercy Interational Reflective Process, p. 20)

Clearly, the beatitudes of Jesus are just as timely today as they have been in every generation. In their simplicity, they capture profound truth that is difficult to explicate without making it sound trite. In this, Jesus shows himself to be a master teacher. In addition, the beatitudes of Jesus continue to invite people to reflect for themselves on what it means to be blessed in the context of the current world in which we live.