my contemplations

I preached on Genesis 11:28-12:9 on Sunday. I started preparing real early, reading Brueggemann’s Genesis commentary on Monday, and Von Rad’s shortly after, but never quite got around to making the sermon. I knew what I wanted to say though. God call Abram, promise to bless him, but in the same breath call Abram to also be a blessing to those around him (see some thoughts in Afrikaans here). God call Abram, but he doesn’t call him out of this world, but to be wholly part of this world (see some more thoughts in Afrikaans here). In Genesis, it is the creator God who now become further part of the creation-gone-bad by calling Abram, and by becoming involved with human history.

But last week we again had two armed robberies on houses in our congregation. In one the people were wounded, in the other a man was killed, leaving behind a wife and kids. Shot in the head when he wanted to press the alarm button. This happened on Friday evening, on Saturday I finally got around to finalizing the sermon. Furthermore, the reports on Zimbabwe started coming in, I blogged on that here while I was preparing the sermon.

How do we preach in this context? What do we say? As I said to the congregation at one stage: In church many would say we are not supposed to talk politics. But in this context, and reading the story of Abraham, I cannot do other but talk politics. But politics isn’t about who is right and who wrong, I never spoke about Mugabe for example. Maybe what we call politics in the church, is actually just ethics. Public Theology.

I believe the message, even for this hurt congregation, and believe me, our congregation, and community, is hurt. The violence have been going on for weeks now, every week the reports come in, for this congregation also, the message is that we should bring hope. There is a message that God bring hope to the world, but the other side of the coin is that God bring hope through us as well.

We need to preach on South Africa. We need to preach on Zimbabwe. Telling the stories of the people there, telling the story of the Bible, realizing that the story of the Bible is forcing us to, in some way I don’t understand yet, take part in the story of suffering ongoing around us. Our congregation is starting to talk about our role, a missional role, in the context of violence around Kameeldrif.  It’s not a new conversation, but we took it upon ourselves in all earnesty. I’ll be getting together with Arthur tomorrow to have some talks on Zimbabwe. What is the role of the church in a time like this? What can we as a church do?

οPersonally I don’t really mind that much if you tell me the end of a movie before I’ve seen it. But this isn’t a characteristic shared by many, most people I know hate to watch a movie, or read a book, if they already know the end. To not even talk about watching a rugby match if you couldn’t see it live, and have already heard the outcome. And even to me this is understandable. I mean, there is little tension if you know that you’re team are going to win, that the heroin are going to marry the hero, or that the underdog will triumph in the end.

Similarly, we seem to have lost the tension between hopelessness and hope in Easter, because we already know the outcome. We already know that the “hero” is going to live again. Actually, we have told ourselves over the centuries, the hopeless part of Easter was not hopeless at all. If it was all part of a big divine cosmic plan, then why should we see hopelessness when we read about Jesus being crucified?

For the past year of two I’ve gotten into the habit of reading the narratives about the empty grave and the living Jesus on resurrection Sunday. The past few months Luke 24 has been pulling me in, all the more making me part of the Jesus story. The more I’m reading it, the more I realize that we have an absolutely amazing story here. In writing this narrative Luke really outdid himself, I think. The way he use tension and surprise, the way the narrative develops, the way in which it climaxes (think Eucharist), the whole story is just constructed in an amazing way.

 Also this narrative is making me part of an experience which is not satisfied with simply saying: “Oh, we know we celebrate Jesus’ crucifixion, but don’t worry, in two days we’ll celebrate the resurrection and then all will be better again. It tells of Cleopas and his friend (wife?) who really isn’t expecting anything good to come out of the resurrection. In Luke’s gospel the followers of Jesus didn’t expect a resurrection. For them, Jesus was simply dead.

Which make the hope climax all the more exciting when we get there. When Jesus take the bread, pray, and hand out the bread, and they realize that there is life after death we find the real hopelessness turning into hope. Yes, and maybe we’ve been programmed to know what the end of Easter will be in such a way, that we forget that part of Easter is opening up new possibilities. Where there is hopelessness, we find the possibility of hope. Where there is death, the message of Easter is that life is possible. The resurrection is the story of new possibilities.

Many of us have broken the bread on Thursday evening in remembrance of the night Jesus introduced the Eucharist. Maybe we should now break the bread in remembrance that hope is to be found in the words: “oντως ηγερθη ο κυριος”, “indeed, the Lord has risen”.

Once a month we have a “youth service”, although mostly attended by high-school kids, more and more I attempt to do it in a why to be more of an “alternative service”, with discussions, image-rich, and participation if possible. Not easy though. Last night we discussed the meaning of the cross and the fact that God could die. I used Acts 8, the story of the Eunuch, and worked with the idea that the text which is mentioned that he read, almost seem like he must have thought that this text apply to himself (read the story, and for a moment think what this poor castrated man must have thought when reading this text, and then see his question about the text). The message was that God can identify with our suffering, cause he know what suffering is himself, since he died on the cross (think Moltmann - crucified God).

I started with a discussion on the hand of some images. First was the word “Jesus”, and everybody just said what got into their heads. From there on different images of Jesus was shown. Of interest what how we were tought to not see the literal parts of Jesus playing with the lambs, but rather the metaphorical, how ancient art had absolutely no meaning to young people (which obviously ask the question what the ancients would have thought of our images), how we mainly see the divine in images, and not the human.

And then, as part of the series, I showed a picture of the face of Christ while lying on his back on the cross, with a hammer and nail in the foreground just before the nail is entering his hand. The reactions? “Fear” and ”pain” were most dominant, with a few similar words, and then, after about 15 seconds, the reactions changed… “peace” and ”fearlessness” then suddenly dominated the discussion. It was beautifully illustrated, I couldn’t have planned this to happen… so sad how we are indoctrinated about the meaning of the cross, in such a way that we miss the meaning of the cross. We miss the fact that it was a man which hung on the cross, it was really bad, really not what he wanted, really because he angered the authorities in such a way that they felt it fit to crucify him.

The first reactions I think was closer to what we ought to see when thinking of Jesus on the cross, the second what we were taught along with the idea that the cross what Jesus’ big plan.

The first bring us to a God that understand what rejection mean, what pain mean, to a God that has experienced this. The second to a God that in his divine might went to the cross triumphantly, which might have been in love, and which I can be thankful for, but cannot identify with necessarily. Maybe the two isn’t incompatible, but oh well, this was the thoughts from last night.

It’s quite a hectic time at the moment. Will be preaching twice on Sunday (all my respect to those of you who have to do this every week), and since we are busy with a series where similar sermons are preached in both our services, I have to finish my one sermon by tomorrow to send it to the other guy that will be preaching. What’s worse is that he has been a pastor for 40 years or something, and I just started out, so it’s kind of a stressful idea!!!

What’s more I’ll be having a meeting tomorrow about this years Engineering Ethics, a course at the university where I’m part of the team teaching and facilitating discussions. So the lecturer asked if I’d bring along my ideas for possible work we could add/change to/in the curriculum, especially with regards to Ecological Ethics, which we would like to give higher priority this year. I’m thinking about the first chapter of Fritjof Capra’s The Web of Life, but it contains a lot of philosophy which I’m not sure what the Engineering students will make of. So, if you have any ideas which might help, and you can let me know within the next 12 hours, I’ll appreciate it. I’m looking for something scholarly, something radical, something ecological, and something the lay reader can understand (The average engineer isn’t that interested in philosophy or ethics).

OK, a question. What’s the relationship between discipleship and the church? I’ll be preaching on discipleship and biblical formation on Sunday (again, I have about 18 hours to finish my draft on this sermon), and as I was working this afternoon, some questions arised.

Discipleship is not coming to church, but it’s going into the world. What do we do when we go into the world? Where is the world? Is the church part of the world? Sometimes I wonder why even keep the church? Well, it seems like the task of the church would be to prepare people for discipleship; I get this mainly from Matt 28 (read the thoughts of David Bosch in Transforming Mission on this), go and teach what you have learned from Jesus; Jesus made disciples, now go and make some more, to make more, to make more? No, to do what Matthew wrote in his account of Jesus from chap 1-28, to take part in the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven, to heal, bring hope, feed to poor, look after the vulnerable etc etc. Why have another sermon on this? What do I say when I have another sermon on this? Can the church actually “train” people in discipleship? Is biblical formation and discipleship the same thing? Is discipleship and making disciples the same thing? Maybe biblical formation and disciples, or making disciples is supposed to be the same thing, but do we use this terminology for the same thing in our churches?

I’m reading Emerging Churches by Gibbs/Bolger, especially chapters 3 and 4, as part of my preparation. Is this the answer? Should we close down church and start alternative communities? What about the millions in traditional congregations who will never fit into new models, are they “lost for discipleship”? Is discipleship possible in a traditional Reformed congregation? What about in a hip mega-church? Bring back the question, in what way is discipleship (or making disciples ) and church linked at all?

Well OK, have to go now, I’m having dinner with some nice people from the congregation. A technical error (I’m sure the database we are using has some programming error) caused me to phone the wrong person to sympathise with a husbands death. As Murphy would have it, this person had a brother with the same name as the dead husband, and I left a message just to say that I heard, and would call later. She got it, thought her brother died, then found out he was alive bla bla bla. You can imagine the bad experience it must have been! I felt very bad. So actually I just wanted to go and say sorry, but, in spite of my horrible mistake, the nice people are giving me some food (which is great if you are in bachelorhood!)

We find Matthew using padion (the Greek for child) 18 times. In 11:16 it is used (if I remember correctly) in the words of a well known saying spoken by Matthew’s Jesus. In 14:21 and 15:38 in reference to the numerous people in the crowd (woman and children). And then, in chapter 2:13-23 9 times in the story about Herod’s murdering of the little boys in order to kill Jesus, and 6 times in chapters 18 and 19 in accounts of Jesus and children. IN 18:1-5 he use a child as an example of how we should become, and in 19 he blesses the children although the disciples want to prevent them from going to Jesus.

We end up with two stories, two kingdoms. In Herod’s kingdom, we find a massacre of the little children, in the kingdom of Jesus, children are given a prime spot. And we find one of the most beautiful double meanings of what the kingdom of God is about. Children on the one hand provide the ideal image of what people in the kingdom of God should look like, we should humble ourselves like children. Children who had no worth in antique society, who were expendables, who could be slaughtered if needed, provide the image for who we should be.

On the other hand these passages say something about what the place of children is in the kingdom of God, and how the followers of Jesus should think about children. Thus the children, I believe, should not be understood as metaphor, but as ideal example, and also simply as children, and then Jesus becomes the example for the rest of us, and he stands in stark contrast with Herod, and with the kingdom of Herod.

In this post I found a few days ago you’ll find a very well-written critique on the way religions have sacrificed children in the past, the way of Jesus stands in contrast with this. All over you’ll find references to the suffering of children, the kingdom of God stands in stark contrast with this. And still children are subjected to the worst forms of violence thinkable; the way of Jesus stands in stark contrast to this as well.

Wasn’t feeling much like blogging the past few days, but maybe I’m back now. My little brother of 15 was visiting me the past two days. We get along very well, and share many interests, so we spent some hours discussing literature (Fantasy in general, where he can teach me a lot, especially when we start on Tolkien, which is the author that receive the most attention, I don’t think the world know many 15 year olds that have such a vast knowledge of Tolkien’s mythology, and Sci-fi, where I at least can still feel that I know a little bit more) mostly, but also just talking life, getting onto church from time to time, even a little bit of theology from time to time.

At one stage he was telling me about his youth group, and about the conversations they have at the group, and how he enjoy the fact that they can share thoughts, and that no one preaches at them. He said that he didn’t like it when people preach, and that he seriously don’t think that anyone will change because of a sermon.

Well, I had to preach last Sunday, next Sunday, and maybe for years to come, but we have never squirmed at critical conversation in our house, and my brother obviously didn’t attempt at making my task easier. But I had some mixed feelings, on the one hand I guess I try to defend what I am doing week after week, on the other, I completely agree with his feelings, and have expressed it over and over, on this blog as well. And what he said was another confirmation that at least some part of an upcoming generation (although he keep on reminding me that they are of a different generation than I am, although it’s only a 7 year difference!!!), isn’t very comfortable with the way we do church.

OK, but somehow I have to preach on Sunday, so I decided to test my ideas on the little expert sitting in front of me, knowing that he won’t think twice to let me know if he think I’m doing something absurd. I told him about my last sermon, also said he could read it if he wanted to give a critical evaluation. I was preaching from Matthew 3:1-12, focusing on the summary of John’s preaching in verse 2: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.”, and what this repentance would mean by contrasting it to his critique of the Jewish leaders in verse 7-9, and using the metaphor of fruit to clarify the meaning of repentance. Throughout the sermon I used the metaphor of two roads, and contrasted the two roads within this passage, the one being John’s repentance, the other the religious road of the leaders, with that of our classical understanding of two roads, the one consisting of doing bad things and ending in hell, the other of doing good things and ending in heaven (since the Jewish leaders were doing many of the things we would consider good, but were on an alternative route than what John was preaching). Well, I then explained repentance as an alternative lifestyle, but not one consisting of church attendance and religious rituals, but rather of how we interact with people and society around us (see also Matthew 5-7). But there I stopped, I didn’t see my role as the one to apply this to the life of the congregation, all I could do was point the way, attempt to make John’s preaching alive to them, to make Matthew’s message alive to them, but they would have to apply this to their own lives. What I did do was stress the fact that repentance is what we constantly do, attempting to figure out this alternative lifestyle in our daily life.

And when I finished up explaining my last sermon to my little brother. He just said that this wasn’t preaching. And after he did some explaining I understood. The problem he had wasn’t with someone talking, the problem he had was with someone attempting to tell others about all the things they are doing wrong, and that, he told me, won’t change anybody. He said that if he sit in church, and someone tell him that he is doing something wrong, even if he know this to be true, that won’t change a thing, he have to figure it out for himself before he will change anything. Then he just said that what I did was exactly what his youth leader will do, simply at some point saying, “I read this interesting verse this week, what do you think about it”, and that after a sermon like this, he and his friends can go and discuss what this mean for them, and thus, he would like it.

Well, the reason I tell this is not to tell you that some 15 year old think I had a good sermon, but rather to link onto some of the things I’ve been writing the past few weeks, and pointing out how my head work when I think about preaching, when we come to the point where someone have to stand up and do the monologue thing (I still would have enjoyed some interaction and conversation, even within the church).

I finally figured out how to use my new phone as a modem (guess it would have been much quicker if I used the manual), this might make blogging much easier! This is the first of a number of posts, in which I’m trying to point how I’m currently contemplating the role of trained theologians in the emerging church. I mean, you need to understand, I have to figure out what to do with a masters degree in theology not an easy task if you have followed the emerging conversation.

I got introduced to “Dwelling in the Word” a little more than two years ago. Dwelling in the Word is a way of reading the Bible where the focus is on the text, listening to the text, and listening to each other. A typical session of dwelling in the Word would have someone reading a part from scripture while the rest listen. A second and third read would follow. For example with the second read someone can read the same text, while everyone follow in the own Bibles. A possible third read would be that everyone read the text on their own. Different variations might also be used. At some point the group would be urged to focus on that which stand out for them.

After this, a time of discussion would follow. This could be simply sharing what have stood out, or sometimes a specific question could be given early on, like: “What would this text say for what our church is currently busy with”. The discussion could be in the large group, but typically the group would divide into two’s, and share their thoughts to the friend with whom they are. Feedback would then be through each one sharing with the group that what their partner has said. The idea is not that an debate should break out, and typically the unwritten rule is that you don’t debate about anything which something has said. In a very pious way some would say that we may not argue with what the Lord say to each of us, although this isn’t everyone that use this that say this. I must however mention that at some occasions, when I’ve said something critical about the text, facilitators have tried to soften it.

It’s a great listening exercise, and many people who come out of churches where they have never been allowed to say anything or give an opinion like the idea that they can contribute to the conversation. And that is a good thing! I love that fact that everyone can talk together, share thoughts, discuss the Bible.

However, I have been picking up some problems. My biggest problem being that many times this leads to allegory, or even worse forms of reading the Bible. Allegory could be described as the process of spiritualizing a text. Usually this would mean that for every object in or aspect of a text, some other spiritual meaning would be found, and linked to the text. Even worse forms would be people directly applying text to this day in a haphazard way. I’ve been discussing this with some friends today, and we used the example of Luke 10. Forms of this bad way of reading the Bible is to interpret Luke 10 to be saying that we should appoint 72 missionaries in our church to go from town to town, and then saying that this is what the Bible said.

Although this is an extreme example, I have heard some pretty weird interpretations when busy with dwelling in the Word. Although I like the idea that anyone can join in on conversations in the church, I have doubts about the health of a pure round table conversation where those around the congregational table have a closed circuit conversation. But, more on the Round Table conversations tomorrow (hopefully), any thoughts on or stories about dwelling in the Word?