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. 

Race and Class in an Immortal Life

Four of my colleagues at Carlow University recently participated in a panel discussion on the subject of race and class in our common reader book, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks: Joel Woller, assistant professor of history, Dr. Linda Schifino, associate professor of communication, Dr. Judith Touré, professor of education, and Jessica Ruffin, Director of the Social Justice Institutes at Carlow University. Each approached the topic of race and class from a perspective informed by their discipline with the result that this was a wide-ranging look at these timely issues.

As a historian, Professor Woller, focused on three things. First, the author’s research and writing process and the excitement and pain of doing historical research. Second, the historical context of the book and, in particular, its settings in both the era of Jim Crow (with whites-only hospitals) and in the post-Jim Crow era—an era in which issues of race and class continue to have economic impact with disproportionate effects on African American families.

A professor of communication, Dr. Linda Schifino focused on issues of culture and how her culture affected Henrietta’s mindset toward her healthcare and this disease, particularly a culturally ingrained distrust of doctors. Linda also raised the notion of Intersectionality: Henrietta was not just black, also a woman, poor, and uneducated. All these identities “walked into the hospital with her,” with the net result that walking into the hospital was like walking into a foreign country. Trust and distrust was a central issue for Henrietta and for women like her.

Dr. Judith Touré approached this issue from a theoretical framework which has been part of her own research on what is called the white racial frame, drawing on critical race theory. One of the most pressing points she raised is the notion that Americans today are not living in a post-racial period; rather, racism (understood as prejudice plus power) is deeply rooted in the United States. One tool for countering racism is the idea of “counter-storytelling” a method that allows for counternarratives, giving voice to those whose voices are otherwise marginalized, such as women like Henrietta. One thing that those of us in higher education can do, suggested Dr. Touré, is to find ways to help students, faculty, staff, and ourselves develop racial literacy.

Finally, Jessica Ruffin, director of the Social Justice Institutes, did an excellent job of pointing out examples from the book showing that racism is not limited to individual actions or attitudes, but is systemic in nature. Differentials access to goods, services, and opportunities of society by race is the norm, and structure, and sometimes even protected by law. She provided ample statistics suggesting that this continues to be an ongoing systemic issue in our society.

During a time of open discussions some suggestions for further action were offered. These included expanding and deepening this conversation at Carlow; educating ourselves and our families; helping to educate our own communities; learning how people of other cultures want to be engaged, as a way of fostering trust; confronting the systems that propagate injustice; speaking up if you encounter something on campus- send an email, talk to someone, confront it. Jessica Ruffin gave a great summary exhortation to both students and Carlow faculty and staff:

“Remember your role in this; this is not someone else’s problem to deal with.”

A few days after the panel, I read the account in the Gospel of John where Jesus encounters the Samaritan woman at the well. In this account in John 4 many have seen an illustration of crossing social boundaries and engaging with “the other” as a person who deserves respect and dignity. What that looks like today in our culture may be very different from the time and culture of Jesus, but in any event it is clear that the writers of the gospels went out of their way to emphasize the inclusive nature of the good news and the love of Jesus as extending to all people regardless of race and class. In fact, the biblical and prophetic tradition suggests a concern and even a preference for those on the margins, whether that be racially, economically, or culturally. At the same time, it needs to be noted that the Bible has been used, at times, to propagate injustice and inequality. One need only look at the history of slavery in the United States for Christians who used scripture with great confidence to support the practice of slavery. On the other hand, it was also Christians who read the same Bible who worked tirelessly to abolish slavery as they sought to embody the teaching and love of Jesus toward their fellow human beings. Such an observation is a reminder that we need to be careful in what we “read into” scripture and make efforts to ensure that what we find in the Bible is not just a reflection of our own prejudices.

Taking a step back, my sense is that these panel members’ engagement with race and class in The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks embodies this same gospel openness to “the other.” The panel approach also demonstrates in action the value of the liberal arts: looking at complex issues from a variety of perspectives using knowledge from across the disciplines; questioning assumptions; and finding ways to imagine a better world and to help bring it about for the good of all. This summary only partially captures the breadth and depth of the discussion and the panelist’s comments. Ultimately what is important that we continue this conversation and each engage with issues of race and class in our own way recognizing that this is not someone else's problem.

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.)

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.

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.

A Guest Lecture on the Banquet Parables

Professor Jack Alverson, co-chair of the humanities department and professor of theology here at Carlow for 25 years, gave a guest lecture in my parables course. He spoke on the great banquet parables in Matthew 22 and Luke 14, and my students and I were very fortunate to have had the opportunity to experience a class session by a master teacher like Dr. Alverson.

He introduced the class to hermeneutical philosopher Paul Ricoeur’s notion of a threefold process of orientation, disorientation, and reorientation. With regard to parables, the initial setting of a parable is familiar and orients the reader to the short story which is to unfold. In the case of the banquet parables, a king holds a wedding banquet for his son and invites guests. Readers and hearers are immediately drawn into the story since people know about royalty and they know about weddings, wedding invitations, and all that goes with such an event. Even accounting for cultural differences across time, space, and cultures, the setting is familiar enough to orient the reader.

Disorientation occurs when something in the parable catches us off guard, surprises us, or disturbs us. In these parables, we begin to be disoriented as the invited guests decline the invitation. Although this may not seem all that odd in our day, professor Alverson explained to the class that in ancient Mediterranean society, such a refusal would have been seen as highly insulting. But where we become really disoriented is through the violence that results, particularly in Matthew’s telling of this parable. Inexplicably, some of the invitees murder the messengers with the result that the king send his troops to kill those individuals and burn their city. At the beginning of class, my students’ reactions to this parable focused on being confused at the meaning of such details, and also of their inclusion in Matthew but their omission in Luke. Further disorientation occurs as the king invites others and eventually compels people off of the streets to come to the wedding. Finally, in Matthew, one such guest who was not wearing wedding clothes (why would he be, if he was a person just dragged in from the streets?) is confronted by the king about his clothing and then bound and thrown out to where there “is weeping and gnashing of teeth.” How such an unpopular banquet with a vindictive,  murderous, fashion loving, and unpredictable king represents the kingdom of heaven is indeed a puzzle. Disorientation has fully set in!

Reorientation then occurs as listeners puzzle over the point of the parable and begin to come to grips with the challenge that the parable presents. In this way, parables invite the listener or reader to see the world in a new way. In particular, to consider that the arrival of the kingdom, in the person of Jesus, is not only surprising but also disturbing.

Comparing the two versions of the parable in Matthew and Luke can help us to appreciate the unique emphases of each gospel, and also make sense of what the parable would have meant to the audiences that first heard it from the mouth of Jesus. By framing the parables within their narratives in different ways, and by including different details, Luke and Matthew have told it in a way that speaks to their own concerns and perhaps the issues facing their own readers, a generation or more after the period in which Jesus actually spoke this parable. Matthew thus seems to be confronting the problem of religious certainty, by framing the parable as a response to the attitudes of certain Pharisees. Those most certain that they understand the messianic kingdom and are part of it should think twice; they may actually be the ones who are outside of it. Luke, on the other hand, seems to be emphasizing the extent to which the kingdom is the place where all are welcome, particularly the poor and those of low social status: those that are brought into the banquet at the end when the rest refused. This again offers a challenge to the wealthy and privileged who think their place in the kingdom is assured, but this is a different challenge than the one put forward in Matthew’s gospel.

Naturally we were unable to address all the questions that parables of these kinds raise, and the discussion here only scratches the surface. The parables of Jesus are designed to provoke, challenge, and cause readers to question what this means and how it can be so. But Dr. Alverson helped us understand these parables a little more clearly as he reinforced many of the concepts we had been engaging with throughout the semester. He also gave the class some new language to use (orientation; disorientation; reorientation) which provides a very useful framework for identifying the challenge of each parable that we will read in the remainder of the semester.

The Parables of Jesus: Ancient Stories with Enduring Meaning

In July I posted about the significance of contemplation and action here at Carlow University. These two dimensions of Christian spirituality and practice are integral to the heritage of the Sisters of Mercy and are also a key feature of Carlow’s new general education curriculum, the Carlow Compass. In contemplation and action courses second semester students are challenged to reflect on an issue from the perspective of a particular academic discipline, and to choose a small but meaningful act of service which they will practice throughout the semester. We are calling it “a small act of mercy.” Students will reflect on this act in conversation with the course readings, in discussion with their classmates, and in their own times of reflection. In January the first round of contemplation and action courses will be offered, and among them will be my course “The Parables of Jesus: Ancient Stories with Enduring Meaning.”

Here is the course description from the syllabus:

This course examines one of the most noteworthy aspects of the teaching style of Jesus: his use of simple stories to engage his listeners and to challenge them to consider new ways of understanding the world and their place in it. Our exploration of the parables of Jesus will consider what we can learn from them both in terms of what they teach and also in terms of how they communicate. Since justice, mercy, and virtue are prominent themes in the parables, this Contemplation and Action course allows ample opportunity for students to reflect on Carlow University’s Mercy heritage with its commitment to service, social responsibility, and ethical reasoning. In addition to course readings, reflection papers, class discussion, and the composition of their own parables, students will also engage in small act of service throughout the semester. These activities will become part of a reflective framework by which they can begin to hone their personal ethic and perspective on social responsibility in light of the Mercy tradition. 

For this course I have selected Amy Jill Levine’s Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi as the primary text. Her analysis of the parables within their first century Jewish context is very illuminating. Those familiar with her work will not be surprised to learn that in this volume she challenges a number of “traditional” readings of the parables, particularly those interpretations that present Judaism in a negative light and Christianity as a refreshing alternative to the stale legalism and hypocrisy of the Pharisees. She shows that in many cases such readings derive from a kind of latent (or blatant) anti-Judaism, and that these readings are not supported by sound exegesis. Instead, she challenges readers to hear the parables as first century Jews would have heard them, and as coming from a first-century Jewish teacher. In this way, we can hear the challenge of each parable anew, and then consider the challenge it may offer contemporary readers. While she does not always succeed in forwarding a new or better reading of every parable, her placing of each in its historical context is commendable and provides excellent background material with which to work. And though this will be my first time teaching this course with this textbook, it seems to me that this volume will be accessible to undergraduate students.

In addition to Levine’s book students will use Louise Schottroff’s volume, The Parables of Jesus, to help them do some further research on some parables of their choosing. In a completely different vein, students will read Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son in which he reflects on his sustained encounter with Rembrandt’s painting of this important scene within the parable. In many ways, his reflections move well beyond the kind of historical and exegetical work we will be doing in class. And I will be interested to see how students engage with his work at the end of the semester.

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.