God and the Whirlwind

A couple days ago, the ELCA denomination of the Lutherans voted to liberalize their stance on practicing homosexuals. Then a small tornado struck the place where they were meeting. After watching the storm from his Baptist church, Reverend Piper shared a few thoughts about it on his blog. I suspect this is one blog post he will end up wishing he'd not written. It's a shoddy hermeneutic he employs, and his conclusion that the whirlwind is a warning from God is a reading-into-Scripture that doesn't follow from his five premises. I really thought Piper was better than this.

This curious tornado touches down just south of downtown and follows 35W straight towards the city center. It crosses I94. It is now downtown.

The time: 2PM.

The first buildings on the downtown side of I94 are the Minneapolis Convention Center and Central Lutheran. The tornado severely damages the convention center roof, shreds the tents, breaks off the steeple of Central Lutheran, splits what’s left of the steeple in two...and then lifts.

Let me venture an interpretation of this Providence with some biblical warrant. ...

Read his entire post here.

Jenell Paris found a certain amount of silliness in the Piper post. Her take on the matter is a great example of how humor can be a better corrective than anger. And no, it doesn't descend into ridicule.

John Piper explains the biblical connection between the Minneapolis tornado and its target, the steeple of Central Lutheran Church where the ELCA was meeting to discuss homosexuality and church leadership. His conclusion? “The tornado in Minneapolis was a gentle but firm warning to the ELCA and all of us: Turn from the approval of sin.”

Wow. Today the weather in Grantham, PA is “82 degrees, feels like 88.” The humidity is 73%. God is speaking to us, too, and I believe I have been chosen to interpret today’s weather for everyone else in Grantham, and perhaps even Mechanicsburg, our surrounding suburb. My spirit is unclear regarding Camp Hill or the city of Harrisburg, so I don’t think the prophecy extends that far.

Read the rest of her post here.

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There was yet another preacher who weighed in on the matter. He said that God "causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Had he been asked about tornados, I think he would have included those, too.

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Illustration: William Blake, "The Whirlwind: Ezekiel's Vision," 1803

In Praise of Celibacy

I'm still waiting for a preacher to read 1 Corinthians 7.32-35 at a wedding. As a lover of irony, I'll make sure it's read at my wedding...if God makes me get married some day. Don't hold your breath waiting for that.

I talk to a lot of people who somewhat recognize the value of celibacy (a.k.a. singleness), but very few seem to value it as a high calling. Jesus did, not only for Himself but also for His followers (Matthew 19.10-12), but somehow we zip right past those comments of His, putting them in the "Idealistic But Not Realistic" category of the things He said that we don't like.

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Marriage obviously has its place, and it was God's idea. My intention is not to demean marriage, but to advocate that singleness should be seen as equivalent in value, not as Plan B or Second Best. Marriage and singleness are both Plan A...the only question is which Plan A God wants you to have.

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The Christianity Today website just posted an interview with Christine Colon, who with Katie Fields cowrote a new book called Singled Out: Why Celibacy Must Be Reinvented in Today's Church. I just ordered the book and am looking forward to some good reading that will confirm my prejudices. My only regret, so far, is that Colon and Fields didn't draft a celibate/single male as an additional cowriter. That oversight probably dooms the book to be read almost exclusively by women. Nevertheless, here are a couple excerpts from the interview:

Celibacy can be a radical testimony to God's love and provision, because it reminds us that our ultimate fulfillment has to be union with God. That is equally true for married couples, but oftentimes marriage is seen as, once you have that partner you will be fulfilled. And that's a lie. With celibacy, you have to come to grips with that early on, to say, "My fulfillment lies in God, and there are always going to be these longings unfulfilled here on earth," but that's a good thing — if everything were fulfilled on earth, we wouldn't need God.

Marriage is the metaphor for God's exclusive love for his church, and it's a good and powerful metaphor. But singleness is also a metaphor of God's love — the aspect of God's love that extends to everyone. Oftentimes church communities become so ingrown and focused on, "Let's build up our families, let's build up our community." Wait a second, what are we here for? Singles don't have that exclusive relationship, so we need to build relationships out. And the church itself needs to as well.

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We wanted to look at celibacy as a state in which we are content with where God has called us, and are also willing if God calls us to a different state. We're not eliminating the possibility of marriage, but we're not put on hold until marriage comes. It's not, "I vow to be celibate until I die." It is saying, "God has called me to this state; I am going to serve God right here. If he calls me to marriage, great. I will serve God there. If he doesn't call me to marriage, fine. I'm going to serve God as a single person." With celibacy, we're trying to draw from the past but not be wrapped up in, "You've made your vow, and you're done."

You can read the entire interview here, and CT's review of the book here.

Read this Book. See Jesus.

Jesus was not an American. Nor a capitalist. Nor a product of the Enlightenment or Romanticism. He wasn't a postmodernist or a CEO or a copilot.

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Believe it or not, Jesus was a Middle Easterner. And a Jew. He could speak Hebrew and some Greek, but mostly he spoke Aramaic.

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What does all this have to do with us? Well, if you're reading this, chances are that you are none of the above-mentioned things that Jesus was, and you are many of the things Jesus was not. Therefore, when you and I read the Bible, we tend to read it through lenses quite different from those worn by the first hearers of the message. We may reach accurate doctrinal conclusions about the essentials of the faith, but we may also miss much of the richness that comes from understanding the culture in which the Bible was written. When it comes to Jesus, we miss the sheer audacity of his words and his person, even as we bow before Him for our salvation.

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That's where Kenneth E. Bailey comes in, with his book, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels. Bailey grew up in the Middle East (mostly Egypt) and taught there for 40 years. His 60 years of life experience, linguistic ability, and curiosity come together in this amazing look at the Jesus of the gospels. It is impossible to read this book without growing in an appreciation of the cleverness, theological and philosophical depth, social brazenness, and deep compassion that go into describing the incarnate Christ. Bailey's insights are not "novel" in the sense of being unorthodox theologically. Rather, they are like a key that opens a door and allows a much fuller view than what one was heretofore gaining through a keyhole. The previous view was accurate, but limited. The new view is broader and richer and gives deeper meaning to what was seen before.

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In 35+ years of reading Christian books, I don't know if I've ever read one that caused me to say "Wow" or "Oh my gosh" as many times as this one did. And only rarely have I read a book of theology that actually led me to worship; this is one of them.

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It's hard to summarize this book, because there's so much in it. The six main sections deal with: The Birth of Jesus; The Beatitudes; The Lord's Prayer; Dramatic Actions of Jesus; Jesus and Women; and the Parables of Jesus. It all adds up to 400 pages, but it's not a difficult read. Nevertheless, don't expect to get through it quickly: you may find yourself wanting to stop often and savor what you just read.

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Why did Jesus ask handicapped people whether they wanted to get well? Why was Zacchaeus in a sycamore tree? What's the point of the parable of the talents (hint: it's not about using your God-given abilities)? Who is the only person in Jesus' parables given a name, and why? How did Jesus view women? Which "inn" had no room at Jesus' birth? How does the Lord's Prayer blast away the concept of salvation being only for the Jews? And why should we trust that what we read in the gospels is what really happened? All this and much, much, much more is brilliantly answered in this book. You'll never read the gospels the same way, again.

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I gave a friend a copy of the chapter about the Syro-Phoenecian woman (Matthew 15.21-28). In this encounter, we see Jesus refusing to answer the woman pleading for her daughter's healing, then telling her that He only came to help Jews, then calling her a dog. After my friend read Bailey's exposition of this passage, he said, "I used to read this story and think, 'Jesus is a jerk.' But now I read it and say, 'Jesus is amazing.'"

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Jesus is amazing. Read this book and you'll have a much richer understanding as to why.

Comparing the Resumes

It's been too long since we've had a JesusAndMo fix.



(Click on the picture if it's not big enough.)

Wincing at the Gospel

Last week, I blogged about how we can seek to avoid Jesus by developing a false sense of righteousness. Those who don't think they're ill won't be interested in knowing what the physician has to say.

This week, I came across a poem by Julie Stoner that addresses the same issue. It's from the June/July 2009 issue of First Things. Poetry and I often don't get along, but this one I like:

"I Did Not Come to Call the Righteous"

Matthew 9:9–13

We ninety-nine obedient sheep;
we workers hired at dawn’s first peep;
we faithful sons who strive to please,
forsaking prodigalities;
we virgins who take pains to keep
our lamps lit, even in our sleep;
we law-abiding Pharisees;

we wince at gospels such as these.

How to Avoid Jesus

The boy didn't need to hear it. There was already a deep black wordless conviction in him that the way to avoid Jesus was to avoid sin.

In her 1952 novel, Wise Blood, Flannery O'Connor provides this description of the protagonist, Hazel (Haze) Motes. In the course of the novel, Motes does everything he can think of to get away from Jesus. In the end, Jesus wins, though it's not entirely clear whether Motes does.

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Regardless of what's going on with Motes, himself, I find the quote above insightful. During Jesus' ministry years, the Pharisees had convinced themselves of their functional sinlessness through observing a set of laws and procedures. As long as they followed those rules, they figured they were OK and didn't need anyone to save them from anything (John 8.33-41). Of course, the temple sacrifices reminded them of sin, but they were always getting forgiveness because they correctly followed all the procedures that were required of them.

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To them, and to us, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." Sick people who know they're sick go to the doctor for help. Sinners who know they're sinners go to the Savior for true restoration and forgiveness.

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Hazel Motes tried to avoid Jesus by living a perfect, moral life. When that didn't work for him, he tried denying Jesus' existence altogether. Denying he was sick didn't work, but neither did denying there was a doctor who could detect sickness.

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The best way to avoid Jesus is to avoid sin. As deluded as Motes was, at least he knew he fell short. We, on the other hand, sit in our church pews and sing our cheesy worship songs and delude ourselves into thinking everything's alright...all the time giving nary a thought to the falling short that we do every day in every way, and nary a thought to our inability ever to make it right.

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[My friend David just posted his own blog entry about Flannery O'Connor. Check it out.]

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Photo: Brad Dourif as Hazel Motes in John Huston's 1979 adaptation of "Wise Blood".

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Being Angry At the Right People...and About the Right Things

In Luke 9.51-56, James and John ask whether they should call down fire from heaven to destroy a Samaritan village that rejected Jesus. Jesus rebuked them for the suggestion. A.B. Bruce has this to say about that:

Jesus too, all gentle as He was, had His thunderbolts; but He reserved them for other objects than poor, benighted, prejudiced Samaritans. His zeal was directed against great sins, and powerful, privileged, presumptuous sinners; not against little sins, or poor, obscure, vulgar sinners. He burst into indignation at the sight of His Father's house turned into a den of thieves by those who ought to have known, and did know better; He only felt compassion for those who, like the woman by the well, knew not what they worshipped, and groped after God in semi-heathen darkness. His spirit was kindled within Him at the spectacle of ostentatious orthodoxy and piety allied to the grossest worldliness; He did not, like the Pharisee, blaze up in sanctimonious wrath against irreligious publicans, who might do no worship at all, or who, like the heretical Samaritans, did not worship in the right place. Would that zeal like that of Jesus, aiming its bolts at the proud oak and sparing the humble shrub, were more common! But such zeal is dangerous, and therefore it will always be rare.

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James and John...thought themselves actuated by zeal for the glory of their Lord, and so they were in part. But the flame of their zeal was not pure: it was mixed up with the bitter smoke of carnal passions, anger, pride, self-will. Then, again, their spirit was not such as became the apostles of the gospel, the heralds of a new era of grace. They were chosen to preach a message of mercy to every creature, even to the chief of sinners; to tell of a love that suffered not itself to be overcome of evil, but sought to overcome evil with good; to found a kingdom composed of citizens from every nation, wherein should be neither Jew nor Samaritan, but Christ all and in all. What a work to be achieved by men filled with the fire-breathing spirit of the "sons of thunder"! Obviously a great change must be wrought within them to fit them for the high vocation wherewith they have been called. Yet again, the spirit of James and John was, of course, not that of their Master. He "came not to destroy men's lives, but to save them."

- A.B. Bruce, "The Training of the Twelve," pp. 246-247

Painting: Valentin de Boulogne, "Christ Driving the Money Changers out of the Temple," c. 1618

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The Cross After Easter

"The fact that fidelity involves a cross, as also the fact that Christ was crucified just because He was righteous, are well understood by Christians when they are a suffering minority, as in primitive ages. But these truths are much lost sight of in peaceful, prosperous times. Then you shall find many holding most sound views of the cross Christ bore for them, but sadly ignorant concerning the cross they themselves have to bear in fellowship with Christ. Of this cross they are determined to know nothing."

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- A.B. Bruce, The Training of the Twelve, p. 185.

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For too many, "discipleship" is something you do in a group once a week. It is not a lifestyle, worldview, or guiding paradigm. Nor a relationship with a Master, for that matter.

Thank God for Stupid Disciples

There can be no doubt that Jesus spoke plainly enough about His death at least; and yet His death, when it happened, took the disciples as much by surprise as did the resurrection. One explanation suffices in both cases. The disciples were not clever, quick-witted, sentimental men such as Renan makes them. They were stupid, slow-minded persons; very honest, but very unapt to take in new ideas. They were like horses with blinders on, and could see only in one direction, — that, namely, of their prejudices. It required the surgery of events to insert a new truth into their minds. Nothing would change the current of their thoughts but a damwork of undeniable fact. They could be convinced that Christ must die only by His dying, that He would rise only by His rising, that His kingdom was not to be of this world, only by the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost and the vocation of the Gentiles. Let us be thankful for the honest stupidity of these men. It gives great value to their testimony. We know that nothing but facts could make such men believe that which nowadays they get credit for inventing.

- A. B. Bruce, The Training of the Twelve, pp. 494-495 (emphasis added)

Today

Start Small, Grow Big

A.B. Bruce was a Scottish pastor and professor in the 19th Century. He wrote a classic about how Jesus trained his disciples, called, appropriately enough, The Training of the Twelve. In this book Bruce takes a chronological/ episodic approach, rather than a systematic or topical one, which may help to explain why the book is 550 pages long.

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Bruce treats the disciples as real people, not as caricatures or buffoons. Throughout this work, he shows himself as one who clearly has soaked himself in the Word and meditated on it deeply.

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In the following passage, he talks about the difference between apparent church growth and lasting Church growth. "Rousing the masses" can never replace training the few:

Where there is no obvious excitement, the church in [the view of some] is dead, and her ministry inefficient. Such [people] need to be reminded that there were two religious movements going on in the days of the Lord Jesus. One consisted in rousing the mass out of the stupor of indifference; the other consisted in the careful, exact training of men already in earnest, in the principles and truths of the divine kingdom. Of the one movement the disciples, that is, both the twelve and the seventy, were the agents; of the other movement they were the subjects. And the latter movement, though less noticeable, and much more limited in extent, was by far more important than the former; for it was destined to bring forth fruit that should remain—to tell not merely on the present time, but on the whole history of the world. The deep truths which the great Teacher was now quietly and unobservedly, as in the dark, instilling into the minds of a select band, the recipients of His confidential teaching were to speak in the broad daylight ere long ; and the sound of their voice would not stop till it had gone through all the earth. There would have been a poor outlook for the kingdom of heaven if Christ had neglected this work, and given Himself up entirely to vague evangelism among the masses.

- A.B. Bruce (1831-1899), The Training of the Twelve, p. 107

The entire book can be read or even downloaded at Google books.

Superstar. Super Show.

It's late and I need to sleep. But first: If you live in or near Atlanta, do yourself a big, big favor and go see Jesus Christ Superstar GOSPEL at the Alliance Theatre before it ends on February 22. I went tonight, and it was amazing. Phenomenal. The acting is perfect. The singing is beyond perfect. The choreography surprising. The overall effect overwhelming.

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Jesus Christ Superstar was originally a 70s rock opera, and in the unlikely event that you saw the movie version, you may have found it bordering on the blasphemous. But now it's found its home after being reworked as a (Black) Gospel piece, and except for maybe two lines in the whole thing, it's better than any passion play I've ever seen, and in some ways touched me more deeply than Gibson's Passion of the Christ. You may not like it quite that much, but if you don't go, you'll never know. I know I'm in good company, though: check out the review in the AJC.

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And here's the good news about JCS GOSPEL: you may be able to get discount tickets on the day of the show. Just check AtlanTix here any day after 8:00 a.m. for the current day's deals. But even if you have to empty the piggy bank and pay full price, it's worth it.

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More info and a couple short videos on the Alliance website here.

The Triumphal Procession

Tomorrow we will inaugurate a new president, and the inauguration will be followed by a parade. You may never have thought about this, but there are several parades in the Bible. For now, let's just look at one:

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him" (2 Cor. 2.14).

For years, I've read the verse and heard perhaps the occasional sermon touching on it. But where does this term "triumphal procession" come from, and what does it really mean?

A while back, I read a novel by Robert Harris entitled Imperium. It takes place in the time of Cicero, Pompey, and Julius Caesar, roughly 50 years before the birth of Christ. From Wikipedia, I learned that a Triumph was "a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly honour the military commander of a notably successful foreign war or campaign and to display the glories of Roman victory....The [parade] route would be lined with cheering crowds who would shower the triumphator with flowers."

Here's a passage from Imperium about Pompey's triumphal return to Rome. It's a bit lengthy, but read it with an eye toward Christ's triumphal procession that Paul mentioned in 2 Corinthians. Where do we fit in this parade?

The twenty-ninth duly arrived, and what a day it was! Rome had not seen such a spectacle since the days of Sulla. As I waited by the Triumphal Gate it seemed that everyone had turned out to line the route. First to pass through the gate from the Field of Mars was the entire body of the Senate, including Cicero, walking on foot, led by the consuls and the other magistrates. Then the trumpeters, sounding the fanfares. Then the carriages and litters laden with the spoils of the Spanish war – gold and silver, coin and bullion, weapons, statues, pictures, vases, furniture, precious stones, and tapestries – and wooded models of the cities Pompey had conquered and sacked, and placards with their names, and the names of all the famous men he had killed in battle.

Then the massive, plodding white bulls, destined for sacrifice, with gilded horns hung with ribbons and floral garlands, driven by the slaughtering priests. Then trudging elephants – the heraldic symbol of the Metelli – and lumbering oxcarts bearing cages containing the wild beasts of the Spanish mountains, roaring and tearing at their bars in rage. Then the arms and insignia of the beaten rebels, and then the prisoners themselves, the defeated followers of Sertorius and Perperna, shuffling in chains. Then the crowns and tributes of the allies, borne by the ambassadors of a score of nations. Then the twelve lictors of the imperator, their rods and axes wreathed in laurel.

And now at last, to a tumult of applause from the vast crowd, the four white horses of the imperator’s chariot came trotting through the gate, and there was Pompey himself, in the barrel-shaped, gem-encrusted chariot of the triumphator. He wore a gold-embroidered robe with a flowered tunic. In his right hand he held a laurel bough and in his left a scepter. There was a wreath of Delphic laurel on his head, and his handsome face and muscled body had been painted with red lead, for on this day he truly was the embodiment of Jupiter. Standing beside him was his eight-year-old son, the golden-curled Gnaeus, and behind him a public slave to whisper in his ear that he was only human and all this would pass.

Behind the chariot, riding on a black warhorse, came old Metellus Pius, his leg tightly bandaged, evidence of a wound incurred in battle. Next to him was Scipio, his adopted son – a handsome young fellow of twenty-four: no wonder, I thought, that Lepida preferred him to Cato – and then the legionary commanders, including Aulus Gabinius, followed by all the knights and cavalry, armor glinting in the pale December sun. And finally the legions of Pompey’s infantry, in full marching order, thousands upon thousands of sunburnt veterans, the crash of their tramping boots seeming to shake the very earth, roaring at the top of their voices “Io Triumphe!” and changing hymns to the gods and singing filthy songs about their commander in chief, as they were traditionally permitted to do in this, the hour of his glory.

It took half the morning for them all to pass, the procession winding through the streets toward the Forum, where, according to tradition, as Pompey ascended the steps of the Capitol to sacrifice before the Temple of Jupiter, his most eminent prisoners were lowered into the depths of the Carcer and garroted – for what could be more fitting than that the day which ended the military authority of the conqueror should also end the lives of the conquered?

This is most likely the picture Paul had in mind when he wrote his second letter to the Corinthians. As glorious as it is, I'm guessing Christ's triumphal procession will put Pompey's - and Obama's - to shame . . . and nobody will be whispering in His ear that He is only human and all this will pass.

The Best Christmas Art Ever?

(I have no idea as to the original source of this. If you know, please clue me in.)

Planning to Vote for Jesus? Think Again.

As this sendup demonstrates, the state of political advertising in America has sunk to such a low that even Jesus could be made to look bad without too much difficulty. Two minutes.



Thanks to Friendly Atheist.

A(nother) Book I Dislike But Am Supposed to Love

I admit it. There are some books and authors I just don't "get." John Piper and I probably share the same theological convictions on most items of substance, but his overwrought style (even in print) makes me want to buy him some quaaludes and tell him to go home, put on his bunny slippers, and chill out with a high gravity beer and a cigar. Dietrich Bonhoeffer's turgid prose makes my eyes glass over - does he just need a better translator? My aversion to John Eldredge is legendary and enduring, and had a lot to do with starting this blog and my website.

There are others. But today, I want to focus on Brother Lawrence and "his" book, The Practice of the Presence of God. I put "his" in quotes, because Brother Lawrence (hereafter to be referred to as BL) didn't even write this book. Some unnamed narrator(s) did. Since its publication around 1675, this book has been beloved by millions of Christians. I am almost the only person I know who hates it. I've read it at least three times over the last three decades, by the way - most recently in April of this year - so at least give me credit for trying.

What's my problem? Well, let's see:

• BL comes across to me as a wacko social misfit who couldn't make it in the real world so retreated to a monastery which he seldom if ever left for the last 54 of his 77 years.
• I have never understood how an eccentric monastic like this is supposed to serve as a role model for the rest of us who live in the real world, with all that living here entails.
• The book is poorly written and ploddingly translated. I've read two different versions, and both were tedious.
• The book is an organizational mess. In my version, there are two prefaces, a "conversation," a section of letters, and after a few other odds and ends, a character sketch, followed by "gathered thoughts," not to be confused with the "maxims" that were 25 pages earlier. Huh?
• There's no coherence to all this, and no one takes credit for writing any of it. There are no details, such as when the letters were written or to whom they were (or weren't) sent. If this book were a high school project, the kid would get a "redo."
• The book is a hagiography. BL seems more a caricature than a real person.
• Most of the time, I can't figure out what the heck is going on or what point BL or the narrator are trying to make. The book is uncritical, unedited ramblings.
• BL makes tons of unsupported assertions about God, prayer, our spiritual obligations, etc. The narrator seems to assume that if BL says it, it must be true. So this leads to goofy statements like times of prayer shouldn't be any different from other times, because we should always be tuned into God (p. 26 in my Spire version). Sounds good, but how does that explain Jesus's practice of withdrawing from ministry for times of prayer?
• Is there any evidence that BL had any missional (i.e., evangelistic) interests whatsoever?
• BL is in constant awareness of the presence of God, ostensibly, yet there are only 9 references in the entire book to God Incarnate, Jesus Christ. In my version, that means Jesus is mentioned once for every 12.4 pages. What's wrong with this picture?

In 112 pages, there were a small handful of thoughts I found valuable, but I remain at a loss to understand the belovedness of this book. Maybe I'm not really saved? Or, perhaps, is it that we simply like the title and praise the book on that account without actually reading it? Many years ago, I did read a book called Caring Enough to Confront. It was pretty boring and not very helpful, but the wonderful title has stuck with me for 30 years, and I still use the phrase from time to time in conversation. Perhaps Practicing the Presence of God is like that.

The LORD replied, "My Presence will go with you and I will give you rest." (Exodus 33.14)

"And surely I [Jesus] am with you always, to the very end of the age." (Matthew 28.20)

From Compliance to Formation to Transformation

"The genius of the moral teachings of Jesus and his first students was his insistence that you cannot keep the law by trying not to break the law. That will only make a Pharisee of you and sink you into layers of hypocrisy. Instead, you have to be transformed in the functions of the soul so that the deeds of the law are a natural outflow of who you have become. This is spiritual formation in the Christian way, and it must always be kept in mind when we consider Jesus’s teaching about various behaviors – in the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere.

For example, his famous teaching about turning the other cheek. If all you intend is to do that, you will find you can do it with a heart still full of bitterness and vengefulness. If, on the other hand, you become a person who has the interior character of Christ, remaining appropriately vulnerable will be done as a matter of course, and you will not think of it as a big deal."

- Dallas Willard, The Great Omission," p. 152

Holy, Strong, Loving, . . . Smart?

Today many evangelicals are trying to reexamine this issue [of the role of reason in faith], and they must do so in order to capture Christ as Teacher and begin to think of him as an intelligent person - which is now almost impossible for many people, evangelical or not. If you ask evangelicals to pick the smartest man in the world, very few of them will list Jesus Christ. And surely that is sad. It is a modern-day form of Docetism. But if he is divine, would he be dumb? And how can you be a disciple of someone you don't think of as really bright?

- Dallas Willard, "The Great Omission," p. 168

Ein Feste Burg, And All That Stuff. A Favorite Painting - Cranach in Weimar

I've posted so many things sympathetic to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox church that some of my Presbyterian friends may be questioning my bona fides. But as John Paul II would say, "Do not be afraid!" Perhaps this post will help to reestablish "(w)here I stand."
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This post is an attempt at art appreciation. I freely admit that I am a marketer, not an artist, so if you happen to notice flagrant ignorance, please feel free to correct me (gently).
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I've been working on this blog post off and on for many months, and it is very long, so you may not want to try to read it all at one sitting. The pictures are nice, though, so I hope that will be enough to entice you to come back a few times and read the whole thing.
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I suppose there's a handful of paintings I'd call my "favorite," but if I had the opportunity to take one, and only one, with me into exile, it would be Cranach's magnificent altarpiece triptych which can be found in the Herderkirche in Weimar, Germany.
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I have a special relationship with this painting. In my missionary days, when working in communist East Germany, we would have discipling meetings with the youth pastor and his wife in Weimar. His window faced the Herderkirche across the square, and I attended services there a few times (plus once afterwards, on a return visit years later). I also was able to hear some organ concerts there during the summers. Bach himself attended this church for a time, and a couple of his kids were baptized here. By then, the painting was about 150 years old, but the organ is a much newer affair, so it's not one he played.
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So during these services and concerts, I got to spend a lot of time looking at the painting. Maybe that's part of why I like it so much - that, plus the winsome way it portrays the salvation of the donors, the viewer, and the artist himself. I've even been up on the altar for a closer look, and have walked behind this work to see the other side (I think there's something painted on the back, too, but that's where memory fails me - probably it's just decoration for when the triptych is "closed").




The church goes by several names. In addition to Herderkirche (named after a German poet and philosopher of the Romantic period, whose statue now stands before the church), it is sometimes referred to as the Stadtkirche (city church), though its "official" name is the (Lutheran) Church of St. Peter and Paul. It was built between 1498-1500 and largely rebuilt after heavy damage sustained in WWII bombings.
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Though the church was originally Catholic, it became Lutheran during the Reformation, and barely twenty years after the Reformation reached Weimar, Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553) was commissioned to paint this altarpiece. By that time, he and Luther had become friends, even godfathers to each other's children, and he had printed "Luther Bibles" on presses he owned. Cranach painted numerous portraits of Luther (and Luther's wife, Katie) over the years, becoming a sort of "painter of record" for Lutheran reformers. However, Cranach was multi-vocational: in addition to his painting and printing businesses, he owned a pharmacy in his town of Wittenberg (where Luther posted his 95 Theses) and served as mayor for a time.

Although the Calvinistic Reformers made a point of eliminating anything in a church that could be taken to be a "graven image" - statues, paintings, stained glass - not so Luther. He realized that every time someone hears a Bible story, he forms a picture in his mind of what that might have looked like. And if every hearer of the gospel has an image in his mind, "Why then should it be sinful to have it before my eyes?" As long as images were only reminders or teaching tools and not thought to be of intrinsic value, they were welcome.




So Cranach got to work at producing what's been called a work of "evangelical iconography." But he wasn't able to finish the painting before an exile from Weimar of about 5 years following the capture of his prince in a mini-war with the Catholics; he did return in 1552 after the Protestants returned to power, but died only a year later. His son, conveniently named Lucas Cranach the Younger (1515-1586), completed the work his father had begun. The portrait of "The Elder" which you see here was painted by "The Younger" in 1550.

The major donors for the painting were the leader of the Protestant Union, elector Johann Friedrich der Grossmutige, and his wife. Johann Friedrich is the aforementioned prince who was held captive from 1547-1552. Husband and wife are in the left wing of the triptych and their three sons are in the right wing, all of them praying toward the center painting.











The focal point, of course, is the remarkable center painting. Perhaps not remarkable for its artistry or technical sophistication (one commentator refers to its "dispiriting didacticism"), but for the theology and piety and immediacy that preach the Gospel in paint.

You can get a nice close-up of the painting on this site, but turn your volume down first to avoid the loud MIDI file. Click on the various figures you see there, or the directional hands below the painting, and you'll see even more detailed views. Alternatively, just keep reading, because I've reproduced those detailed views below (click on each figure to see a larger version) . . .



Expulsion from Paradise

Adam is driven from the Garden of Eden by fantastical creatures. The skeletal figure doing the prodding I take to be "death," but I'm not sure what to make of the club-wielding figure, which looks like a chicken with breasts.

Adam is moving along at a pretty good clip. Eve, however is nowhere to be seen. It was Adam's sin that made Christ's sacrifice necessary.





















The Ten Commandments

This is presumably Moses presenting the Decalogue to the Israelites. As we'll see later in the depiction of Luther, one foot is pointing into the painting and the other is pointing outward to the viewer - us - as if to remind us that the Law was given not just to the Jews, but to all humankind. The Law, as an expression of God's perfection, shows us our imperfection, indeed, our total inability to live up to God's standard.





















The Snake in the Desert

Numbers 21.4-9 tells of the wandering Israelites who complained about their desert experience and were bitten by poisonous snakes. God instructed Moses to hang a bronze snake in the camp. Anyone who looked at it would be saved. This is a prefigure of Jesus, who will save all who look to His saving work on the cross.

The snake will be mentioned again, in the "Trio in the Triptych" section below.

Notice that the flow of blood from Jesus' side courses through the middle of the camp.















Shepherds

The shepherds receiving news of the birth of Jesus.

Here, Jesus' blood flows above the shepherds, but below the angel, reminding us, perhaps, that humans need salvation, but angels do not.















The Lamb

Jesus is the sacrificial Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (John 1.29); the almost invisible banner at the top of the staff he carries bears this message in Latin . This Lamb is also a warrior, however (see Revelation 17.14, for example), meaning we can take the banner to be a battle flag.

The area where the Lamb stands isn't the only place in the painting with vegetation, but it appears to be the only spot where things are blooming. The Lamb of God brings new life.





Crucifixion

This is where I wish I knew more about art. I suspect Cranach had something in mind when he painted Jesus' head listing to the right, put bark on the wooden crossbeam, and showed only the very bottom of the placard that proclaimed Jesus "King of the Jews." The flowing white loincloth suggests something to me about Christ's divinity and the breadth of the salvation He was purchasing by His death.

John 19 tells us that a Roman soldier stabbed Jesus' side with a spear in order to make sure He was dead. Water and blood flowed out. The next section talks about where that blood goes.


Justification - The Trio in the Tryptich

This is my favorite part of my favorite painting.

John the Baptist points with his right hand to Christ on the Cross, and with his left hand to the Lamb. John and Jesus have remarkably similar faces, perhaps because they were cousins?

Martin Luther holds the Bible, which he had recently translated into German. On the page are three verses, the first of which he points to:

• 1 John 1.7 - If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.


• Hebrews 4.16 - Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.


• John 3.14 - Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, [v. 15 - that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life].

Luther's left foot points outside the painting, perhaps signifying that his is a missionary message, not one to be limited to personal piety.

Between John and Luther stands the painter, himself, Lucas Cranach the Elder. This is an unusual touch, made all the more unusual - and remarkable - by the flow of blood that springs from Jesus' side and lands right on Cranach's head. Through this, Cranach declares his own devotion and need for atonement, and bluntly asserts that this atonement is not mediated through priest or church. The religious message about salvation is not just abstract theology, but practical necessity, and that's why Cranach needs a "straight shot" of the blood. As the only character who looks beyond the painting to the "audience," he seems to be inviting us into the painting to share with him in the benefit of Christ's blood.

So Cranach draws us in, John points us to the living Word, and Luther points us to the written Word (which itself is living and active).


























Resurrection

We see Christ again, this time trampling Death. His translucent spear (staff?) looks a lot like the translucent staff that the lamb is carrying, and it's held at about the same angle. The skeletal Death looks a lot like the figure that chased Adam from Paradise. I take the lion-like creature to be sin (Genesis 4.7) or Satan (1 Peter 5.8). Notice the snake near Jesus's right knee, just in case we miss the allusion. Notice also that Jesus's red cloak flows under the Lamb's banner which proclaimed him the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world - just in case we missed the connection.

Jesus has a fairly nonchalant look on His face as he gazes out of the picture, as if to show that this battle over sin, death, and Satan wasn't much of a contest. It was a lifesaver for us, but there was never any question as to the outcome. As Luther wrote in his most famous hymn:

The prince of darkness grim --
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo! his doom is sure --
One little word shall fell him.

Conclusion

And so we see, in this one painting, a view of Creation, Fall, and Redemption. Cranach invites us to view this as participants in the timeless story, however, and not mere onlookers.

"God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5.21).


Bibliography

The following sources were helpful as I prepared this analysis:

• Abstract: From Vision to Testimony: Cranach's Weimar Altarpiece
• Circulatio as Tonal Morpheme in the Liturgical Music of J. S. Bach
• Cyberbrethren: A Lutheran Blog: "Christian Art and the Proclamation of Christ"
• Das Onlineprojekt zu Lucas Cranach
• Ford Madox Brown's Protestant medievalism: Chaucer and Wycliffe
• "Life of Lucas Cranach" PowerPoint Slide Show
• London Review of Books: Eamon Duffy, "Brush for Hire"
• Wikipedia: Lucas Cranach the Elder

The Gospel of Personal Happiness

I was drinking coffee with my friend Jeff last night, and we ended up talking about one of my "favorite" authors, who was in town last week. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see John Eldredge, because his event was sold out.

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Our discussion, though, was really about discipleship, how we are called to deny ourselves and give up our preferences and desires to follow Jesus. I didn't say that, Jesus did (Luke 14.25-33) - though I wish He hadn't. The issue, then, is not, "What is my passion?" or "What do I really want to do?". Rather, the demand of Christ is that we follow Him. Too often, we try to lead, deciding where we want to go and then asking God to bless us in our endeavor. "In Jesus' name," no less. It seems to me that Eldredge (and many others, including myself all too often) gets this exactly backwards.

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Of course, I do believe that God gifts us and prepares us for particular places of ministry. But the command in Matthew 28 to carry the Gospel to those who don't know Christ and to make disciples of them is not negotiable. The only question is how God intends for us to do that.

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On my drive home, I was listening to an interview and heard the following. I think it's a good descriptor of much of American Christianity, where Jesus becomes all about meeting my needs and helping me live a better life. He's my friend, and even my Savior, and boy does He add a lot to my life, but I'm not his disciple.

“We embrace the gospel of personal happiness, defined as the unbridled pursuit of impulse, yet we remain profoundly unhappy.”

Elisabeth Lasch-Quinn, in her introduction to Philip Rieff’s "The Triumph of the Therapeutic"