A Review of Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus

I am happy to share that the first review of my book, Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus: The Ethical Challenge of the Parables, has just been published in the journal Studies in Christian Ethics. Professor Edwina Pio concludes, “the book is a fabulous and crucial work of how the parables of Jesus are relevant at the micro (individual), meso (organisational/community), and macro (country/world) levels in our explosive, generous, wonderful world.” 

I am grateful for her careful reading and to see that the key themes of the parables come through to reviewers. According to Pio, the book “shows us how one can be contemplative and pragmatic on issues of social justice”—picking up on the focus of contemplation and action that marks the spirit of the Sisters of Mercy. In my view, one of the most exciting features of the book is the way it highlights the voices and perspectives of the Sisters of Mercy, with Sisters contributing a reflection on each parable that I explore. 

Pio also notes, “The parables are a call of sacredness, often a tiny speck of hope and light in our volatile, frequently dark world.” 

For those of us looking for light and hope today, the invitation of the parables to see our fellow humans in new ways and to engage the world through an ethic of love, mercy, and justice remains as timely as ever.

You can see the complete review here.

The Parables of Jesus: An Invitation to Reflect on Our World in 2025

I recently had the opportunity to read a brief selection from my book, Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus: The Ethical Challenge of the Parables, at a dinner. I chose to read from the concluding chapter where I drew out the shared themes of the parables, those ideas that are touched on in different ways in different parables, but seem to be reflected in the parables as a whole. With that reading in mind, I am reflecting on the impact of some of the recent executive orders that many (including me) are experiencing as disruptive, disturbing, and cruel, and some of which the courts have paused due to their being illegal or unconstitutional. I am trying to discern my own response, particularly as it is informed by my work at a Catholic university, my scholarship as a theologian, and my values as a Christian. As part of that, I thought I would revisit the themes of the parables as I explored them in my book and see what insights that exercise might offer.

Here are eight themes of the parables as I discern them:

1. The parables of Jesus assert the dignity, value, and worth of every person.
2. The parables are infused with the theme of concern and responsibility for the needs of those whose dignity is compromised or overlooked.
3. The parables show us that compassion is not merely an obligation but rather a visceral, human response to the suffering of others that motivates action to relieve that suffering.
4. Parables remind us of the reality of the interconnectedness of all persons, whether it is recognized or not. Pope Francis put it concisely this way: “We are all really responsible for all.” Theologians connect this theme with the ancient concept of the Common Good—a state of being where everyone has what they need in order to thrive.
5. Just as they promote compassion, the parables draw explicit attention to matters of justice. True mercy attends to matters of justice and injustice and seeks to remedy injustice out of concern for those who suffer as a result.
6. In many parables Jesus gives attention to the beauty and intricacy of the created world, inviting readers to see themselves as part of this larger community of life. As an expansion of the notion of the interconnectedness of all persons we encounter in the parables the interconnectedness of humans with all of the natural world. Humans, while unique, are not separate from the natural world, but actually quite literally part of it.
7. The parables highlight that the small moments, actions, and choices of daily life are, in the divine economy, the big moments. Ordinary daily life encounters and decisions may seem insignificant but they are actually where God’s kingdom is enacted or contradicted.
8. Parables do not give simple instructions to do this or that but rather invite readers to open their eyes and imagine their world differently in light of values of love, mercy, and justice, and then to live accordingly. What that looks like will be different in each new and unimagined circumstance we find ourselves in.

Ultimately the parables offer an imaginative vision of a just and merciful world in which readers are invited to contribute to human flourishing. It is a world where all creatures are reverenced and respected as a part of all that exists. It is also a world in which pain, suffering, and injustice exist and must be faced. In such a world of chaos and struggle, compassion for others and a concern for the well-being of others motivates a response of love and concern for all such suffering. In addition, the response of love is one that faces reality head on, while recognizing the limited scope of our individual grasp of it. In such a way, the person who lives in mercy recognizes their need of others, and even the need of the oppressor to receive and experience mercy, so that the community can be restored and achieve its highest potential. The parables do not seem to assume that all will embrace this mercy and live into it; but they present the listener with the reality that the time to choose it is the present moment, and the place to experience it is wherever one is at the moment.

With these thoughts in mind, my hope is that we all may find in this moment of challenge an invitation to revisit our own values, consider the forces which shape our beliefs, and discern what love, mercy, and justice might look like in 2025.

 

Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus

I'm excited to announce that my new book, Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus: The Ethical Challenge of the Parables, is now available. I wrote this book for all who have an interest in what Jesus taught and how he taught it, but who also may be interested to consider how aspects of his message have been eclipsed over the centuries through modes of interpretation that either miss the point or, worse, fit the teaching of Jesus into a box in which it really can't be contained. With an eye toward first-century culture and the role of stories in antiquity, this book examines how the teaching of Jesus has something to say to all of us today as we wrestle with some very complex and daunting societal and human rights issues.

The idea for this book started early in my time at Carlow University when I began teaching a new kind of course that is unique to Carlow: a Contemplation and Action course. These courses invite first-year students to explore a particular topic in the liberal arts as they learn about the heritage and values of the Sisters of Mercy. At the same time, they engage in a small act of mercy each day throughout the course, and reflect on that activity in conjunction with the readings about the Sisters of Mercy and the subject matter of the course. As a biblical scholar, it seemed obvious to me that the parables--short stories told by Jesus to challenge, provoke, and engage his listeners in reflection on their own values and actions--would be a great area of exploration for this course. And I was right! But the challenge for me was to find a textbook that both provided an accessible introduction to understanding parables in their original context (many students [and adults for that matter] do not even know what a parable is) as well as linkages to the possible implications of those parables in our world today. In the end, I chose Amy-Jill Levine's excellent book, Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi, which provides a great entry point, but is a little advanced in some regards for first-year students with no background in the academic study of religion. As I taught the course over several years and connected the parables with the concept of mercy as lived out by the Sisters of Mercy, I began to see that there was a need for a book that could explicitly make those connections and also share them with others at an accessible level. 

And so I began working on this book in 2018. Since that time, it feels like the world has changed dramatically in some unpredictable and scary ways. Not only the world but it seems that segments of north American Christianity have been changing as well, to the point where messages of exclusion, hatred, and intolerance--things that one would think were incompatible with the love of Jesus for people in need--are praised as virtues. Writing and teaching on the parables in the context of our increasingly fragmented religious, political, and social worlds made it clear to me that this book was more needed than I originally even considered. My hope is that this book will be an encouragement to people of goodwill to engage in the kinds of contemplation and action that are needed in our world today in the face of injustice and inhumanity. 

Social Justice in the Stories of Jesus: The Ethical Challenge of the Parables is published by Wiley-Blackwell and will be in print January 9, 2024.

Entering into Holy Week with the Good Samaritan

At this point in my spring course on the parables of Jesus we have just explored the parable of the Good Samaritan. This is always a rewarding and challenging week as we consider the parable in its original context and also its implications for today: What does having mercy mean today? Who is my neighbor? Who are the wounded on the side of the road today? Will I allow myself to see them, really see them, and respond?

This week in the class also marks an interesting moment where we encounter a concept which is new to most students: anti-Judaism. Students know about anti-Semitism, but anti-Judaism is a new one for most. In an article I published last year I included a short section discussing anti-Judaism and the parable of the Good Samaritan. Here is a paragraph from it:

The fact that the characters who pass by on the other side of the road and do not show mercy are Jewish religious leaders has given rise to anti-Jewish readings of the parable. In this context anti-Judaism takes shape in an interpretation which, intentionally or unintentionally, promotes Christianity as superior and Judaism as inferior. (Note: It is useful here to consider the distinction between anti-Judaism, which denigrates Jewish religion, and anti-Semitism, a racist ideology. For a good overview of anti-Jewish interpretation of the parables, see Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi [New York: HarperOne, 2014], 23-25.)

A standard anti-Jewish view of this parable assumes that Judaism is legalistic and heartless and that the priest and the Levite choose to observe Jewish law rather than help a fellow human being. By contrast, such a view claims that Christianity focuses on love and compassion and this parable shows that Jesus came to introduce a message of compassion which is, if not foreign to Jewish thought, at least only minimally present in it. One flaw in this line of interpretation is that Jesus was not introducing a new teaching but rather drawing attention to what Judaism already taught: the obligation to have compassion on one’s neighbor and someone in need (cf. Lev. 19:18). The Hebrew Scriptures are rich with teaching about God’s concern for the poor, the widow, the orphan, the alien, and of the obligation of God’s people to care for them. Jesus, as a Jew speaking to Jews, was not denouncing Judaism with his parables, but reminding listeners of truths they already knew. In light of its history of interpretation, this parable presents an opportunity for all of us to begin to grapple with anti-Judaism and become aware of the subtle ways in which anti-Judaism has influenced biblical interpretation. (Gordley, "Parables and the Principle of Mercy," Journal of Catholic Higher Education 39 [2020]: 15-36)

Consideration of this matter is particularly important in the 2020’s when anti-Semitism is—sadly—on the rise. Addressing anti-Semitism derived from the New Testament is not a minor issue. It is 2021 current headline news:

From Forbes: "Hate Crimes Against Jewish Students Are At An All-Time High." 

And in Iowa: "Iowans reported four anti-Semitic incidents in 2020, three of them involving public vandalism. Most recently, on the first day of Hanukkah in December, someone used red spray paint to scrawl the New Testament biblical citation “John 8:44” at an entrance of Davenport's Temple Emanuel." (From the DesMoines Register)

And of course we all witnessed the anti-Semitic symbols on display on January 6 at the insurrection and attack on our nation’s Capitol.

In the article of mine that I quoted from above, I also add this:

From anti-Jewish biblical interpretation to destructive action is not a big step. Biblical scholar Dominic Crossan observes, 'The trajectory of human violence escalates almost inevitably from the ideological through the rhetorical to the physical' (Power of Parable, 247). Interpreting the parables in anti-Jewish or other ways that dehumanize, whether intentionally or unintentionally, is a first step on this trajectory of human violence. It is incumbent on anyone who wishes to interpret the parables of Jesus to be mindful of this reality. It is now documented that the shooter at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh justified his actions through the misinterpretation of the New Testament. See Aamer Madhani et al., “Pittsburgh Synagogue Rampage Spotlights Rising Anti-Semitism in America,” USA Today, October 28, 2018.

As Christians enter into Holy Week, we need to recognize that anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism are a real part of Christian history—a part that must be faced honestly and confronted.

It is important that we consider the vast differences between the historical and cultural context of the first century and the cultural context of the present day, and what this means for the language we use when speaking about the Bible. For example, when the gospel writers or the Apostle Paul speak of “the Jews” they are not speaking of an entire grouping of people throughout history but specific Jews who rejected what became the Christian perspective. Further, Jesus and Paul themselves were both Jewish, and so it is important to emphasize that disputes with “the Jews” were originally internal disputes over understanding the meaning of the kingdom of God in a Jewish context.

As we reflect on the crucifixion this week we might take occasion to reflect on how the Bible actually emphasizes that the crucifixion is ultimately understood by Christians to have been for all humanity. It was not only the Jewish religious leaders who played a role (notably, not “the Jews” as a whole). Consider that according to the New Testament, this was God’s doing (it was God who “gave his one and only son”, according to John 3:16), Jesus himself had a key role (he predicted his death and went willingly toward it, Mark 10:45; John 18:11), and his followers (who abandoned him), and certainly the Roman rulers who were the only ones with the authority to put Jesus to death. And if Jesus came into the world to save sinners, isn’t everyone responsible then in a way, according to Christian teaching (1 Tim 1:15)? Sadly, as the Christian message was embraced in a Roman context, the tradition developed in such a way as to minimize the Roman role while placing blame on the Jews as a whole. This unfortunate development has been mirrored throughout history with disastrous results for the Jewish people and Christian mistreatment of them.

And with this, we have come a long way from our Good Samaritan. Nevertheless, the parable is a call to us again to have eyes and hearts open to those in need—our neighbors—and to be willing to respond with compassion. And it is important to recognize that this call comes to us from Jesus, from the heart of Judaism, from the heart of God.

SOME RESOURCES FOR FURTHER READING:

For an overview of anti-Semitism, see this short video produced by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

See article, "The Crucifixion of Jesus and the Jews," for a brief, scholarly treatment for non-specialists that helps clarify the historical reality about the crucifixion and the way the tradition developed to minimize Roman responsibility and blame the Jews: 

A very helpful and concise overview of the larger issue by a leading New Testament scholar is found here: “Is the New Testament Anti-Jewish?” by Amy-Jill Levine. 

Not Your Usual Commencement Address

Father Gregory Boyle, founder of Homeboy Industries, Inc., a non-profit that provides work opportunities to former gang members in Los Angeles, delivered an incredibly challenging address at Carlow University's 2018 commencement ceremony last weekend. He also delivered the homily at the baccalaureate mass earlier that morning and spoke on the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). I can’t do justice to the simple yet profound thoughts that he shared, but I thought I’d highlight a few things he spoke about.

From his years of working with individuals at the margins he had some very rich insights into the parable of the good Samaritan and into the nature of mercy. One particular insight which I had not heard before was one idea that he kept repeating as a theme of his homily: We don’t go to the margins to rescue people; if we do, then it becomes about us. And it is not about us. Instead, we go to the margins because that is where transformation occurs. Father Boyle kept returning to Jeremiah 33:10-11 where Jeremiah says, “In this place of which you say it is a waste, there will be heard again the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voices of those who sing.” In the place of waste and desolation God envisions a transformed community. And we can each be changed by a genuine human encounter with our fellow human beings who are at the margins. He illustrated this with some examples from his ministry. And finally, he suggested that the good Samaritan in the parable was changed through his encounter with the victim on the road. Yes, he took action that did result in the wounded victim being changed for the better; but that action arose from an encounter in which the Samaritan was changed as he encountered the wounded victim and was moved with compassion. The good Samaritan did not set out on his journey hoping to reach someone or change someone. But as he encountered a fellow human being in need, his own plans and priorities changed. This idea connects really closely with what I shared in my last blog post about the concept of theology as interruption.

In some of his writings, Father Boyle has put it this way: “We do not rescue anyone at the margins. But go figure, if we stand at the margins, we are all rescued. No mistake about it.” In his commencement address he raised a couple of other related points. Specifically, the kinship of all people; the “exquisite mutuality” and inter-connectedness of all people. In addition, he pointed out that when those of us in privileged positions choose to go the margins and be present at the margins, it actually erases the margins. He pointed out that “God’s own dream for us, that we be one, just happens to be our own deepest longing for ourselves.” He added that, related to Jeremiah’s vision of social transformation, “the widow orphan and stranger will be your trustworthy guides since they know what it is to be cutoff.” Rather than go simply to rescue those at the margins, we can learn from those at the margins.

His final challenge to the graduates was to “Go forth to create a community of kinship such that God might recognize it” and to make those voices, the voices of the marginalized, heard. Though he made his point with powerful examples of gang members he had worked with, his message was simple: Treat all people like human beings. Honor the dignity of each person we encounter.

That is something we all can do. And in our current contentious and potentially dehumanizing cultural context, this is something we must do.

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For more on Father Gregory Boyle, see his biography here.

Carlow University posted the commencement ceremony and you can watch Father Boyle’s address by clicking here and selecting “on demand” and then “commencement.” His talk begins at about the 1-hour mark immediately after his receiving anhonorary doctorate and continues to the 1-hour and 13 minute mark.

Finally, Father Gregory gave a similar talk at Notre Dame’s commencement in 2017 where he received the Laetare Award. You can read the transcript or see the video here.

Mercy in a Culture of Indifference

“Living Mercy in an Age of Indifference” was the subject of a talk this week by Dr. Johann Vento who is a Professor of Religious Studies and Theology at Georgian Court University. This very timely presentation was given at Carlow’s “Common Hour”—a space and time set aside on the first Tuesday of each month for faculty and staff to come together to have dialogue and discussion about a topic of importance to the community. Here are a few points that I noted that really resonated with me.

Dr. Vento began with a review of mercy in the Psalms, showing that mercy is a theme that infuses the prayers and praises of the people of God. She pointed to one of my favorites, Ps 103: “The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Psalm 103:8). Dr. Vento pointed out that the biblical theme of mercy, and mercy in the Psalms in particular, was a thread that runs through the writings of Pope Francis. His 2015 “The Face of Mercy” announced 2016 as the year of mercy, building on this scriptural foundation. When you note that the Psalms are the most cited book in the NT, it is not surprising that mercy themes infuse the New Testament as well.

As Dr. Vento moved on to an open discussion with the group about mercy in our world today, a few themes in our own culture were noted. One is the high level of distress in our culture, and particularly among students; there is a palpable hunger and thirst for mercy. Second, our contemporary culture actually teaches us not to be merciful, with its individualistic and judgmental tendencies. In other words, “we” tend to think we are doing well because of our effort and hard work; “they” are in need because of their own faults and failures. Third, she pointed to a “closed-off and privatized form of Christianity” which is poorly equipped to be present to suffering. The effect of these dynamics, intended or not, is that we have a tendency to isolate and insulate ourselves from the suffering of others. The extreme customization of our own personalized “news feeds” in social media potentially only serves to exacerbate this insulation from the suffering of others who are not like us.

Dr. Vento then turned to several theologians who have helped her consider mercy, not just from an individual religious perspective, but in terms of mercy as “a passion to end injustice.” In particular, she drew from the work of Walter Kasper, Johannes Metz, and John Sobrino, theologians who have reflected deeply on the gospel teachings about mercy and their connection to contemporary issues in society.

A few concepts in this part of her presentation were particularly striking. One that resonated with me was Johannes Metz’s notion of “theology as interruption.” In the cultural context described above, theology can serve to jar us and awaken us from a pre-occupation with ourselves and our own comfort and our own successes or small sufferings. A biblical theology of mercy grounded in the mercy of God as seen in the Psalms and the NT requires us to be attentive to the suffering of others, and to be “moved with compassion” as the Samaritan was in the parable of Jesus that is commonly known as “the Good Samaritan” (Luke 10). Notably, Metz did much of his writing and thinking in the wake of the Holocaust as he sought to understand how the Christian church in Nazi Germany not only had no ability to generate a robust, counter-cultural Christian response to the Nazi atrocities, but was actually largely silent about it. As history shows, many Christians were complicit simply by not taking action or speaking up about what was happening to the marginalized in their society when they could have and should have. In response, Metz proposes a theology that emphasizes solidarity with those who suffer, based on the actual reality of the inter-connectedness of all people, including the most vulnerable. To me this is an insightful and compelling application of the teaching of Jesus in Luke 10:25-37.

Finally, Dr. Vento ended up discussing the work of John Sobrino, a Jesuit from Nicaragua who has been on my reading list for some time (but whom I have not yet gotten to!). According to Sobrino, to be truly human is to respond to suffering and to be moved by it. Moved to act. This involves “making someone else’s pain our very own” (Principle of Mercy, p. 11). Again, an embodiment of the compassion and care toward one’s neighbor as seen in the teaching of Jesus.

For me the entire conversation was an embodiment of “theology as interruption.” I have my own priorities, stressors, and daily sufferings, not to mention my to-do list each day. The theology of mercy calls me to be ready and open to look up from my screen, to see human need and be open to be moved. And in that moment of being moved, to act.

“But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds” (Luke 10:33-34)

The Cross in the Earliest Christian Hymns (part 3)

There are three New Testament passages that are thought to be early hymns in honor of Jesus: Philippians 2:6-11, Colossians 1:15-20, and John 1:1-18. In their imagery, depth, and vision of Jesus they are unmatched. In the Philippian hymn and Colossian hymn the cross is prominent, occurring at the center of the hymn in Philippians and at the climactic end of the second stanza in Colossians. Given the importance of the cross for the early Christians, this is not surprising. What is surprising is that when we read John 1:1-18 the cross is not mentioned at all. Why and what does this tell us about the significance of the cross for the believers in John’s community?

First of all, there are probably good reasons that the cross is not mentioned in the John 1:1-18. It was not that the cross was not important to John. These verses function as a prologue to the whole of John’s Gospel. As such, they set out the major themes that will follow and serve to invite the reader to read the rest of the Gospel with the perspective that the prologue outlines. It is not necessary that a prologue should summarize the details of the following narrative. Further, the cross figures prominently in John’s Gospel as a whole. The cross is not specifically mentioned in the prologue since the reader would encounter it soon enough.

Second, in John’s Gospel it is important to note that the cross is not a shameful defeat for Jesus but represents instead the moment of the glorification of Jesus. Immediately after Judas left to betray him, leading to his crucifixion, Jesus said:

"Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.” (Jn 13:31)

Here he was echoing the language of Isaiah: “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified” (Is 49:3). The whole sequence of events leading up to the cross, beginning with the betrayal by Judas, was the way in which God’s glory was revealed. I sometimes have the tendency to think that God’s glory is revealed in the resurrection of Jesus—and it certainly is. But for John, the entire passion of Jesus was the revelation of God’s glory—not only the resurrection.

Third, though the cross is not mentioned in the prologue, the larger theme of the rejection of Jesus by the world certainly is. The prologue sets up a clear contrast between those who did not receive him and those who did. One stanza reads:

He was in the world,
and the world was made through him,
yet the world did not know him.
He came to his own,
and his own people did not receive him.
But to all who did receive him,
who believed in his name,
he gave the right to become children of God. (Jn 1:10-12)

So John talks not specifically about the cross here, but about the idea that there are those who rejected Jesus. This larger theme of the rejection of Jesus includes the rejection of Jesus by the Jewish leaders and by Pilate, the Roman ruler who had him crucified. Another stanza talks about the darkness trying to extinguish the light of Jesus:

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (Jn 1:5)

This is poetic and metaphorical, but the scope of this image is broad enough to include the notion that the cross, the attempt at snuffing out of the life of Jesus by the forces of darkness, was unable to quench the divine light. A third stanza may also refer to the crucifixion since, as we have seen, for John the cross is the “glorification” of Jesus:

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory (Jn 1:14)

The “Word” in John’s poetic prologue, is Jesus. What was this glory that John and his companions saw? For John, the glory of Jesus is not just the miracles, or the teaching, or the resurrection. The glory of Jesus mentioned here includes the cross.

So the prologue invites the reader of John’s Gospel to read the story that follows and to look for the glory of Jesus in each aspect of his life, and especially in the cross. In addition, when one reads about the rejection of Jesus, including the rejection of Jesus by Pilate, the Roman ruler, the reader knows that this is part of the divine pattern. The reader can find his or herself in the story as well, whether as one who rejects Jesus, or one who receives him and sees in the cross a revelation of the glory of God.

As hymns, these three poetic passages in John, Philippians, and Colossians give us a glimpse into some of the ways that the death of Jesus was remembered among the earliest Christians. His death on the cross was a source of divine reversals in Philippians, a source of reconciliation in Colossians, and a revelation of the glory of God in John. And there is much more that these passages have to teach us. In these hymnic passages we gain a glimpse of the mystery of the cross, a mystery that will always exceed our capacity to grasp its ultimate meaning, but a mystery for which we can humbly give thanks to God.

The Cross in the Earliest Christian Hymns (part 2)

Note: This is a follow-up to last week's entry on the cross in the hymn in Philippians 2.

As we progress in this Holy Week to remember the crucifixion of Jesus on Good Friday, another early Christian hymn tells us a little more about what the cross meant to the early Christian worshipers. One of the earliest hymns preserved in the New Testament is found in Colossians 1:15-20. It is probably not quite as early as the Philippian hymn and has a very different feel and style than that hymn. The Colossian hymn was written in a Greek rhetorical style while the Philippian hymn reflects more of a Jewish psalm style. And rather than a chronological narrative with a reversal at the focal point of the cross, the Colossian hymn describes Christ over two stanzas using honorific titles and descriptors:

Stanza 1

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation;

16 for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible,

whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—

all things have been created through him and for him.

17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

18 He is the head of the body, the church.

Stanza 2

He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead,

so that he might come to have first place in everything.

19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,

20 and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things,

whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace

through the blood of his cross.

As is fairly clear, the first stanza describes the supremacy of Christ in the realm of creation, while the second describes the supremacy of Christ in redemption. And it is in the work of redemption that the cross is mentioned, at the end of the second stanza. It is “through the blood of his cross” the following two things came about:

• The reconciling of all things to God, and,
• The making of peace.

There is a lot that could be said about those two accomplishments. One thing that is often overlooked is that these two accomplishments—reconciliation and peace making—were two primary claims made about the Roman emperor in the first century. If you recall your world history course, the Pax Romana (the Roman peace) was the term given to the peace that Rome brought about in the Mediterranean world. This was after an extended period of war and strife. Caesar Augustus claimed to have brought peace to the empire and reconciliation between warring factions. Of course, this was a peace brought about through military might and enforced through the subjugation of peoples and the execution of enemies. But it was “peace” nonetheless and something that the emperor claimed as his special accomplishment as a divinely appointed ruler of the world.

And here in this early Christian hymn, these same accomplishments of reconciliation and peace-making are attributed to Jesus. But for him it is not through military might but, as in Philippians, by means of the cross, the brutal symbol of Roman power.

The hymn does not explain how the blood of his cross makes peace. But the basic idea is that because of the cross, the parties that were at odds can be reconciled.

Stepping back to compare Philippians 2 and Colossians 1, it is clear that both hymns mention the cross. And in both cases a fuller appreciation of the Roman historical and cultural context enables us to grasp the significance of the cross a little more fully.

The Philippian hymn mentioned the cross as the turning point- the low point of Christ’s humiliation and the reason for the exaltation. But in the Philippian hymn there is a surprising absence: there is no mention of benefits accruing to humanity from the cross; no mention of salvation, forgiveness of sins, or redemption.

The Colossian hymn is different in this way. The cross is explicitly identified as the means through which God brings about peace and the reconciliation of all things. Paul applies this to the Colossians in vv. 21-22 and tells them “And you who were once estranged and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death.”  Somehow, the cross is the means of reconciliation with God. And it is also another way that the supremacy of Christ is demonstrated. Because he was crucified and put to death, he can now be called not only the “firstborn over all creation” (stanza 1) but also the “firstborn from among the dead” (stanza 2). As the hymn says “so that in all things he might have the supremacy.”

If the Philippian hymn reminds us of the humility of Christ and of divine reversal, the Colossian hymn reminds us of the supremacy of Christ in creation and redemption. The cross is thus, again, not a triumph for the Romans but another indicator of the superiority of Jesus, the means by which he turns his enemies into his friends.

Given the importance of the cross in these two early Christian hymns, one might ask what role the cross plays in the other great early Christian hymn found in the New Testament: the hymnic prologue which opens up John’s Gospel. The answer is surprising.

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.