Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts

Friday, March 30, 2018

[7 Last Words] "I thirst"

I was invited to participate in my church's Good Friday service this year and was assigned the Fifth Word -- "I thirst" (John 19:28). I don't know how I would have gone about picking one if it had been up to me, but I was pleased to get to reflect on the most human-embodied-experience word of the seven.

Below is the reflection I shared.

***

Fifth Word – "I Thirst" – John 19:28

Jesus thirsts.

Because Jesus is a human being in a human body.

A creature of flesh and bone, skin and muscles and fat and nerves, blood pumping, lungs breathing.

Human bodies come in a lot of variations -- some of us talk with our hands, some of us move through the world on wheels. Some of us can't process gluten or lactose. Each of our embodiments is unique, and few experiences are universal. But thirst is one of the few that probably is.

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John is the one Gospel writer who includes this line, "I thirst."

John also opens Jesus' public ministry with the wedding at Cana -- another story unique to John's Gospel.

Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber tells the story of the lectionary assigning the wedding at Cana story the Sunday after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti. As you may recall, in this story Jesus is initially resistant to doing anything about the wine shortage at this party, telling Mother Mary, "my hour has not yet come."

Mary pushes ahead, and Bolz-Weber imagines her saying to Jesus, "I will not keep silent. I will obey you and I will tell others to obey you but I will not keep silent. People are thirsty."

And she imagines that near the end of John's Gospel, Jesus says, "I am thirsty. I am not watching this from a distant heaven. I too am thirsty."

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Jesus thirsts with the people in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands who still don't have clean water six months after Hurricanes Maria and Irma.

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Jesus thirsts with farm workers in California working 9-hour days in scorching heat, sometimes literally dying of dehydration.

42-year-old Audon Felix Garcia died in the summer of 2008 while working in Kern County, California, on a 112-degree day. His core body temperature was 108 degrees Fahrenheit when he died.

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Have you ever cried so much that you felt thirsty, like you'd dehydrated yourself?

We don't know if Jesus wept while dying by state-sanctioned torture, but it seems likely.

Certainly the Jesus of John's Gospel wept a few chapters earlier, on the long walk toward Jerusalem, confronted with the weeping of another Mary and so many others after the death of Lazarus at Bethany.

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Jesus thirsts with so many other prisoners of the state.

21-year-old Madison Jenson died of dehydration on December 1, 2016, four days after being put in jail in Duchesne County, Utah, her dehydration probably related to opiate withdrawal.

38-year-old Terrill Thomas died on April 24, 2016, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, after the water had been shut off to his cell for 7 days after he had flooded the toilet in a previous cell. #BlackLivesMatter

50-year-old Joyce Curnell was found dead in her Charleston County, South Carolina, jail cell on July 22, 2016, dead from dehydration the day after she was jailed. #BlackWomensLivesMatter

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Jesus is given a sponge full of sour wine on a stick. Which may have been intended as an anaesthetic -- to dull the pain of the multiple nail wounds and the slow asphyxiation. But as mercies go, it was a small one amidst this public execution after a sham of a trial. Jesus thirsts with those who do not have access to quality water.

Jesus thirsts with the people of Flint, Michigan, and the 6 million other people across the 50 United States whose water has excessive levels of lead.

Jesus thirsts with the prisoners at MCI Norfolk here in Massachusetts and so many other prisons and jails who do not have uncontaminated water.

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There are a lot of things we could do to alleviate the thirsts across our nation and around the world, and maybe we will after we leave this space.

But for now, we sit with the thirst.

The God who created us from the very stardust of the Big Bang, the God whose life breath sustains us. That same God shaped some of that same stardust, and with the Yes of a young woman named Mary, breathed Godself into embodiment, into a screaming crying baby who would grow into adulthood and be executed by some of those same stardust creatures. And that embodied God, who walked so many dusty, dirty roads; who ate so many meals with so many different people; that embodied God, that person Jesus, was human right up through the end.

And Jesus thirsts.

***

Works Consulted/Cited

News of the world links to the primary article I drew from, though I often Googled for additional details like exact date of death.

Nadia Bolz-Weber tells the wedding at Cana story in her 2013 book Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint.

The story of Lazarus is found in John 11, and the specific verse "Jesus wept" is John 11:35.

***

Full service audio recording is here (there are a few minutes of extra silence at the beginning and the end -- this is what happens when you ask someone who's also participating in the service to record it ;) ) My part begins around 32:42.

Sunday, December 24, 2017

[Mary] feel the fear and do it anyway

At the Christmas Eve service I attended in Florida this year, the pastor opened the sermon with talking about how we've created a beautiful, clean, calm story out of something that in Luke's telling is really messy etc.

I generally agree with this, but when he said that Mary was surely terrified, I thought "no she wasn't!" maybe she was, but I think that if she was, she was very much a "feel the fear and do it anyway" kind of person.

Yes, at the Annunciation Gabriel says "Do not be afraid" -- because angels always say "Do not be afraid" -- but Mary ultimately agrees to God's wacky plan. [Luke 1:26-38]

And then, while pregnant, Mary travels some 90 miles [cite] (unclear whether she traveled with anyone else) to visit her elderly sister Elizabeth (who is also miraculously pregnant, and has been for six months). And when Elizabeth recognizes not only that Mary is pregnant but that she is pregnant with Divinity -- which we don't have any indication Mary had told Elizabeth about before arriving (she seems to have gone pretty immediately) -- Mary's response is a hymn of praise about how God is going to turn the world upside down. [Luke 1:39-55]

Black gay Episcopalian Broderick Greer suggests that the Magnificat is a protest hymn that Mary goes on to sing to her child (that Jesus learned a lot of what formed his life and ministry from his radical mom).

And then when Elizabeth gives birth, Mary (having just finished her first trimester) goes back home [Luke 1:56-57] -- only to have to travel another 80 miles or so for some plot device census probably six months later when she's about to give birth any day now [Luke 2:1-6]. Now, if I were going to pick some item from Luke's "Christmas" narrative to suggest that Mary was afraid, this would be it. Because the idea of government wanting to know exactly who all lived under its control and where they lived feels very present.

And Mary ends up placing her baby in a manger (an animal feed trough) because there was no room for them at the inn [Luke 2:7], and in case that wasn't enough dirt and animal, a bunch of shepherds show up, having been sent by angels [Luke 2:8-20]. And we read that, "When they [the shepherds] saw this [Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger], they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them." [Luke 2:17-18] -- so maybe Mary and Joseph weren't as alone as the story indicates (for example, last year's "Jesus was not born in a stable" -- which I thought surely I had read longer ago than last Advent) 'cause who is this "all" that the shepherds report out to? 'cause they haven't even returned to where they come from yet -- "But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart." [Luke 2:19] So whatever weirdness was happening, Mary rolled with it all.

In "O Little Town of Bethlehem," we sing "be born in us today" to the Christ child, but I wonder if there's value in seeking to have something of Mary born in us.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

[The Book] I'm a nerd.

So, I've been sporadically doing tiny amounts of work on The Book.

I was working on the Psalms of lament section, and I ended up re-requesting 2 books I read back in 2015 but hadn't taken notes on -- Living Through Pain: Psalms and the Search for Wholeness by Kristin M. Swenson, 2005 (for the Psalms) and The Mystery We Celebrate, the Song We Sing: A Theology of Liturgical Music by Kathleen Harmon, 2008 (for the use of music in worship).

My chapter on psalms of lament also discusses African-American spirituals (Monica Coleman has commented that when Jesus on the cross cried out, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" from Psalm 22, he was singing a lament song of his people -- the Psalms were the songbook of his people, just like the spirituals were the songbook of African-American slaves) and I realized that I don't have much to work with about the usage of Psalms of lament as part of the songbook of a people like spirituals, so I ended up going through the library catalog tag on the Psalms, and I'm bummed that it's all white dudes (I've been on a pretty intent break from books by white dudes for about 2 years now), but I'm so excited to dive into these books:

Saturday, February 25, 2017

[unpreached sermon] What We Bring With Us Into Lent [Transfiguration 2017]

What We Bring With Us Into Lent
Six days later, Jesus took Peter and the siblings James and John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.

And Jesus was transfigured before them -- face shining like the sun, and clothes becoming dazzling white.

Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

While Peter was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Child, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased; listen this one!”

When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Child of Humanity has been raised from the dead.”

Matthew 17:1-9 (NRSV, alt)

Some of you may have seen on Facebook (or elsewhere on the Internet) that Parity, a faith-based LGBTQ-focused organization based in NYC, is offering glitter ashes for Ash Wednesday this year.

On their website, they write:

At this moment in history, glitter ashes will be a powerful reminder of St. Augustine’s teaching that we cannot despair because despair paralyzes, thwarting repentance and impeding the change that we are called to make.

Glitter+Ash exquisitely captures the relationship between death and new life. We do not live in fear of ash -- of death -- we place it on our foreheads for the world to see. We know that fear will rise, cramping our hearts. We also know that God specifically calls us not to project that fear onto the Other, the alien, the stranger in our midst. God insists that we look for the spark of life, of hope, in ourselves and one another. This Ash Wednesday, we will make that spark easier to see. We will stand witness to the gritty, glittery, scandalous hope that exists in the very marrow of our tradition.

At the Transfiguration, a few of the disciples see the spark in Jesus made externally manifest for a brief moment.

And it doesn’t come at a random place in the story.

The Season following Epiphany this year hasn’t been a narrative journey through Jesus’ life so much as it’s been a dwelling in the teachings of Jesus -- primarily the Sermon on the Mount. So the liturgical year doesn’t offer us a lot of context for the story today and our jump into Lent a few days from now. We’ve skipped over Jesus asking the disciples “Who do you say that I am?” and Peter confessing Jesus as Messiah (Matthew 16:13-20), which is almost immediately followed by, “From that time on, Jesus began to tell the disciples: I must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised” (Matthew 16:21, NRSV, alt.).

So we get this glittering moment, not early in Jesus’ ministry when one might be advertising for new recruits, but near the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry, when things are starting to get difficult -- well, more difficult than they already are when your life’s work is on the margins and you have no home or even steady source of income. A couple chapters earlier, we learned of the death of John the Baptist (Matthew 14:1-12). These are difficult times. The Empire is, if not winning, certainly encroaching.

So Jesus takes a few of the disciples up to a mountaintop.

And is transfigured.

And Moses and Elijah show up and Peter, bless, says, “This is great! Jesus, if you’re okay with it, let’s stay here forever.”

And while Peter is still speaking, a cloud appears and the voice of God reiterates the statement from Jesus’ baptism (Matthew 3:17) that Jesus is God's beloved child, with whom God is well pleased.

And the disciples are terrified, and Jesus comforts them, and Moses and Elijah disappear -- and one imagines that Jesus stops glowing -- and the 4 of them go back down the mountain.

They continue their journey toward Jerusalem -- on which journey Jesus will twice more reiterate the “I will be betrayed, killed, and resurrected” prediction (Matthew 17:22-23 and 20:17-19).

One of the lessons of the Transfiguration story is that transcendent experiences are fleeting and are not a place we can stay forever; instead, we have to go back -- not just to return to regular life but, at this point in the biblical story, to continue on toward a confrontation with the powers of Empire that may ultimately kill us.

Lent invites us in to the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness after being baptized and before beginning public ministry.

Lent has traditionally been a catechumenary period -- with adults often getting baptized during the Easter Vigil service, having died to their old lives and been reborn in Christ.

This year in particular, I think there’s a lot of value in focusing on Lent as valuable in and of itself, not just as a means to an end. Especially if we think of it as mirroring Jesus’ time in the desert, when Jesus faces the temptations of comfort and security, the temptation to give our allegiance to that which is not God.

Lent feels to me like a good metaphor for our lives under this current political regime, and we’re going to spend a lot more than 40 days here.

Using the Transfiguration as a guide, I’d like to propose 3 things we bring with us into Lenten times and places -- into deserts and wildernesses -- to sustain us:

  1. Our belovedness
  2. Our tradition
  3. Our community
The most obvious piece of the Transfiguration story -- in fact the piece which we use to name the story -- is Jesus glowing like the sun.

Because God breaks up the party, it’s easy -- at least for me -- to forget what God actually says: “This is my child, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Echoing what God said at Jesus’ baptism -- which we celebrated just a couple months ago.

Yes, when God says it at the Transfiguration, Jesus has done a fair amount of teaching and healing -- but the baptism was one of the very first stories Matthew told about Jesus, before Jesus had done anything at all. We are beloved to God, who is well pleased with us, because we are God’s children, not because of any of our accomplishments.

In a sermon on the Baptism of Jesus1, reflecting on the temptation in the wilderness that immediately follows the baptism, Lutheran pastor and problematic fave Nadia Bolz-Weber2 said, “Before we do anything wrong and before we do anything right, God has named and claimed us as God’s own. But almost immediately, other things try to tell us who we are and to whom we should belong.” She suggests that “if God’s first move is to give us our identity, then the devil’s first move is to throw that identity into question.”

As Parity states, “God insists that we look for the spark of life, of hope, in ourselves and one another.” This can be hard. Sometimes we feel worn out, like we’re failing at everything, like all the systems we’re working against are just too big and too powerful… Jesus probably feels you on this. The text doesn’t tell us why Jesus took a few of the disciples up to this mountain, but we read elsewhere in the Gospels about Jesus retreating away from the crowds, up to a mountain alone to pray (e.g., Matthew 14.23), so it’s very possible that Jesus was tired and needed a break. God’s declaration of belovedness doesn’t come in the midst of an impressive crowd scene, but instead in a quiet moment apart, perhaps a moment of weariness.

Prof. Alyce M. McKenzie suggests:

If you know what it is like to be tired, to have people seeking you out for what you can do for them, and other people criticizing you and working against you, if you have ever been filled with dread at what lies ahead, you have a little something in common with Jesus. If you know what it's like to feel those things as a direct result of serving God, then you have even more in common with Jesus.
Admittedly, most of us don’t get a personal Transfiguration glow or a declaration from the heavens, but I do want to argue that God is still with us.

I’m not sure exactly where Parity is getting their Augustinian teaching that “we cannot despair because despair paralyzes,” but in Sermon 142 (preaching on John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”) Augustine exhorts against despair, reminding us of St. Paul’s statement that “Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6) and asserting that we were so loved before there was anything in us to merit that love.

We are deeply, unfathomably loved. And nothing we can do or fail to do, nothing that can be done to us, can change that.

As we have often heard quoted from Paul’s letter to the Romans:

I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:38-39, NRSV, alt.)
I would add to Paul’s list of things that cannot separate us from the love of God: executive orders, deportations, angry white men with guns, despair, fatigue, numbness, an inability to make phonecalls, an inability to attend protests … none of the threats to our safety or the voices that say we’re not doing enough, can separate us from the love of God.

Black gay Episcopalian Broderick Greer, preparing to preach this Sunday, noted:

when studying for my homily, I found out that the original word for "transfigured" can mean "Appearance matching one's inner reality".
A Transfiguration moment is one in which we are truly and deeply known. It is at this moment and at Jesus’ baptism that God’s voice breaks through the clouds to say, “This is my beloved child, with whom I am well-pleased.” That identity, beloved of God, is always at the core of who we are.

Now, the second most memorable part of the story is the appearance of Moses and Elijah -- representatives of the Law and the Prophets. We’re told that they talk with Jesus, though Matthew doesn’t tell us what they talk about. But their very appearance, in addition to suggesting a sort of blessing from the elders, reminds us of the tradition that Jesus inherited.

Many generations back, the Hebrews had left Canaan because there was a famine, and they settled in Egypt, where they ended up enslaved. Born to Hebrews, Moses escapes death due to the kindness and cunning of a variety of women, living first as an Egyptian royal and then marrying into the family of a desert priest, before finally returning to Egypt to lead the Hebrews out of bondage, aided by Moses’ siblings Aaron and Miriam. Moses leads the people for forty years, bringing them the Law which will help them live in closer covenant with God and sometimes intervening on the people’s behalf when God gets really upset at their breaking that covenant.

Generations later, in their new home, the kingdom that the Hebrews build will fracture, and Elijah will arise as one of the great prophets, zealous for God, calling down a drought and being fed by ravens in the desert, threatened with death by an angry ruler and spoken to by God in a mountain cave.

Jesus comes from a tradition not just of Law and Prophets but of border people, people who are rarely at home in the comfortable center but are called into places of newness and conflict, called to do a new thing with and for God’s people.

This discomfort, this marginality, feels really resonant to me in this socio-political moment.

This is the tradition that we, too, inhabit. We do not inherit a promise that it will be easy, but we do inherit a promise that God will be with us. As God was with Moses, and Elijah, and Jesus, and the communities around them.

Which brings us to the third item, that this mountaintop experience -- unlike many mountaintop experiences -- happened in community, with witnesses.

Only 3 witnesses, admittedly, but still, this was not a private meeting between Jesus and the ancestors or Jesus and God, this was something that Jesus and Peter and James and John could all carry with them.

We don’t know how the disciples reflected on this experience, or what they said amongst themselves about it -- only that the story made it into the written record, showing up in 3 out of 4 of our canonical Gospels. But we can imagine them whispering among themselves while walking a long and dusty road, or under cover of darkness as they drift toward sleep -- reminding themselves that it really happened, and wondering what exactly it means.

When things get harder -- and they will -- we have a community who can remind us of the Transfiguration moments.

We have a community who can remind us of our tradition -- of those who came before us, and why we continue to do this work.

We have a community who can remind us that we are beloved.

We have people who can go on retreat with us, who can dance in defiant joy with us, who can renew our baptisms with us after we’ve changed our name, who can march and rally with us, who can provide childcare and pots of soup.

Blogger D. Mark Davis noted that the Greek word translated “transfigured” (or “transformed”) only shows up 2 other times in the New Testament outside of the Transfiguration story: Romans 12:2 and 2 Corinthians 3:18.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. (Romans 12:2)

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of God as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from God, the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18, NRSV, alt.)

Transfiguration is, for most of us, a process. Those moments when we reflect our best selves, when we are most in tune with God, we can carry with us into Lent to sustain us.

Nurtured and fed by our community, our tradition, and our core identity as God's beloved, we can make our way through even the most threatening and bewildering times.

Amen.

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1 Bolz-Weber, Nadia. Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint. New York: Jericho Books, 2013, pp. 138-9.

2 Insert long footnote here about how she (and Rachel Held Evans) responded (or failed to) when it became known that their friend Tony Jones had abused his now ex-wife.

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Christmas morning 2016

Probably surprising no one who read last night's blogpost, this morning's sermon also seemed banal to me. The presentation of Jesus at the Temple (Luke 2:22ff) -- which is more appropriately next Sunday 'cause circumcision is 8 days after birth (it's right there in verse 21) but okay, I can roll with it (and the preacher pointed out that this scene actually happens 40 days after the Nativity -- which I can believe is the purification period law, but I would have appreciated an explicit nod to that*).

When we imagine the baby Jesus, do we see Jesus the way that Simeon (and Anna) did? One could actually do things with that, but I felt like the sermon was so blah blah blah. Like, even if I agreed with the preacher's theology (which I don't entirely) I don't think I would have felt nourished by the sermon.

A couple times he quoted Simeon's line to Mary "and a sword will pierce your own soul too," but he didn't talk at all about how it can be difficult to follow in the Way of Jesus, to have one's life transformed by accepting the promise of salvation/redemption/restoration that God offers us in Jesus. He talked a little about how Simeon and Anna were the only people to recognize Jesus out of all the adults and all the babies in the Temple that day, but he didn't talk at all about what it might have been like, for example, for Simeon to spend his whole life waiting for this promise to be fulfilled -- did he ever doubt? So many opportunities to make this story relevant to contemporary U.S. Christians, even without getting into national/global politics, and none taken!

I didn't feel like I came out of the sermon with any real idea about who/what Jesus "really" is, other than some vague nods to the Crucifixion and Jesus as savior of the world. But "seeing who Jesus really is" was the whole point of the sermon, so that feels like a total preaching fail to me.

I just, I don't have the ability to talk for 5-10 minutes (I didn't time the sermon) and basically say nothing, and I don't understand how someone can draft a sermon like that and think it's acceptable.

* My HarperCollins study Bible on verse 22 referred me to Leviticus 12, and the purification period for the bearer of a child assigned male at birth is 33 days (verse 4). But it also asserts that the periods are consecutive ("For seven days following the birth of a male child and fourteen following that of a female child, no conjugal relations are allowed. For an additional period of thirty-three and sixty-six days respectively, contact with sacred spaces and objects is proscribed.") so 7+33=40.

Christmas Eve 2016

Every year, I go back to my parents' for Christmas and go to Christmas Eve service at the church I grew up in -- which has a different pastor now but a similar centrist non-political vibe. So it's not like I was actively expecting critique of our nation's slide into a fascist dumpster fire, I just -- the service is roughly Lessons & Carols, with the pastor offering a brief "meditation" after each reading, and each reading/meditation I found myself hungering for something substantive, something connecting the ancient story to the present day ... and it was just so banal, like why are you even bothering? Christmas Eve and Easter are the two most attended church services in the year, so those are your big chances to really speak to people, and if you want to let the texts speak for themselves I can understand that choice (who wants to have to come up with something new to say about the Christmas story?), but if you're gonna offer commentary, then actually say something!
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”
-Luke 1:26-37 (NRSV)
It's really difficult for me to hear this story afresh, so I zoned out, and in the meditation the pastor talked about Jesus is the savior of all but came first to the Jews, fulfilling a promise God made to Abraham centuries before, and I worried there was gonna be some awkward supersessionism or something, but there wasn't, and I was hopeful that this would segue to opposing the rise of anti-Semitism ... but it didn't.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
-Luke 2:1-7 (NRSV)
So, the census made me think of the idea that's been floated of a Muslim registry. And hey, Syria! Or you could talk about how this positions Jesus in a specific political and historical context, that we don't exist separate from the political structures of our world.

Instead, the pastor talked about how each Gospel has a different author and is written to a different audience, and Luke is writing to Gentiles, to Greeks, and so he's situating the story with references they would recognize, but these men who were the most powerful political figures of their time are dust now (while Jesus is not). Which, okay, true, but systems (racism, capitalism, etc.) persist -- and this comes uncomfortably close to implying that it doesn't really matter who the earthly political leaders are because ultimately Jesus is Lord.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.
-Luke 2:8-16 (NRSV)
The pastor wondered what that experience must have been like for the shepherds -- and said that's nothing compared to what the experience of the Second Coming will be like. Really, that's where you're going with this? The message of salvation comes first to some of the lowest people in society, and the message is PEACE -- days after the President Elect Tweets about a nuclear arms race, and all you have to say is to close out the service bringing us full circle from God's promise to Abraham to the eventual Second Coming? You have made glancing mention of the Crucifixion and the salvation you believe was enacted in that, but beyond some vague cosmic ideas you have given me nothing about why I should still care about this ancient story or what God has to say to the present moment. I get that most people show up to Christmas Eve service because (a) they already care, or (b) it's just What You Do, or (c) their family dragged them, so probably no one else was unhappy with this service, but I just don't understand how you can be a theologically engaged person (which this preacher is; my mom really appreciates how much Scripturally engaged his Sunday morning preaching is), and honestly just a person living in the world today, and ~preach such an empty service.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

[FCS] "Letting Go of the Shore"

Letting Go of the Shore

[Audio recorded version available here.]

Our Scripture reading this morning comes from the Gospel according to Luke.

Luke’s is one of 4 different reports of the life and ministry of Jesus, and is often referred to as the one most favorable toward those on the margins -- women and the poor.

In Luke’s gospel, the birth of Jesus is announced first to poor shepherds working the night shift out in the dirty fields with smelly sheep. Some of the parables unique to Luke’s Gospel are the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal.

Our reading today comes about 2/3 of the way through the book -- Jesus has already begun turning toward Jerusalem, warning the disciples that the Child of Humanity will suffer, be killed, and rise again.

Listen now for what the Spirit is saying to the Church.

25Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and Jesus turned and said to them, 26“Whoever comes to me and does not hate parent, spouse, children, siblings, yes, and even life itself, is not able to be my disciple. 27Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me is not able to be my disciple. 28For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether you have enough to complete it? 29Otherwise, when you have laid a foundation and are not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule you, 30saying, ‘This person began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31Or what ruler, going out to wage war against another ruler, will not sit down first and consider whether they are able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against them with twenty thousand? 32If they cannot, then, while the other is still far away, they send a delegation and ask for the terms of peace. 33So therefore, none of you is able to become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Luke 14:25-33 (NRSV, alt.)

(In the beginning was the Word. / And the Word was with God.)

Church, will you pray with me?

God, may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, keep us along the journey to Jerusalem, to the tomb, and into the Resurrection life. Amen.

The Luke passage assigned for today is arguably even more divisive than the one Henry preached on a few weeks ago -- today Jesus says, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate parent, spouse, children, siblings, yes, and even life itself, is not able to be my disciple. [...] therefore, none of you is able to become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."

I think we often get stuck on the "give up all your possessions" bit -- Matthew and Mark each have a whole story about a law-abiding rich young ruler who goes away from Jesus sad because "sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor" is too big of an ask for someone who has managed to obey all the Commandments. But this whole "hate your entire family and even your very life" is pretty intense.

Now, I don't think that Jesus wants us to literally hate our family members -- earlier in Luke, Jesus proclaimed:

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. [...] If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.” (Luke 6:27-28 & 32, NRSV)
And Jesus certainly doesn’t want us to hate our own life -- I think Jesus weeps at suicidality, just as Jesus weeps at anything that makes people believe they would be better off dead.

On the passage that Henry preached on ("Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!"), black gay Episcopalian Broderick Greer Tweeted, "When good news is being announced and enacted at the margins, it often sounds bad news to the powers that be."

I think the message in this morning’s gospel passage is similar. Various commentators1 have noted that in context, the Hebrew word translated “hate” means more like detachment, a choosing of one over the other -- like when Jesus later says that you cannot serve two masters, for surely you will love one and hate the other (Luke 16:13). Here, Jesus is saying, “This is a big deal. I am bringing about radical transformation of everything, and you have to be more committed to the transformed life than you are to any of even your closest interpersonal relationships or the life you currently have -- otherwise this literally just won’t work. You cannot learn to swim if you never let go of the shore.”

This weekend we celebrate Labor Day -- though many of us are used to celebrating it with barbecues and department store sales, rather than reflecting on the history of labor in the US.

According to a Jacobin article last year, “Although previous Septembers had seen small workers celebrations in many states observing the end of summer, the first federally protected Labor Day was marked in 1894 with an AFL [American Federation of Labor]-supported parade.”

So that sounds really good, right? Over a century ago, President Grover Cleveland declared a federal holiday recognizing the labor movement. Except that earlier that same year, Cleveland had brought in the US Army to suppress the Pullman Strike, and he made Labor Day a federal holiday to curry favor from workers who were understandably pissed about that.

I wonder if this is the kind of trying to have it both ways that Jesus rejects.

At the same time as President Cleveland was making Labor Day a federal holiday, many groups had been pushing for May 1st -- May Day -- to be an International Workers' Day, commemorating Chicago's 1886 Haymarket affair.

In May of 1886, folks were rallying in Haymarket Square in Chicago to support workers striking for an eight-hour work day and to protest the recent killings of workers by police. Sounds similar to contemporary #FightFor15 and #BlackLivesMatter protests. The police ordered folks to disperse and someone threw a homemade bomb in front of the police as they advanced on the protestors. Many were killed and wounded in the ensuing violence and, shockingly, accounts vary about whether protestors fired first, about whether police fired on folks who were fleeing, etc.

There was a harsh anti-union (and anti-immigrant) backlash after this incident (and a huge outpouring of support, including financial support, for the police). Lots of people only peripherally involved in the rally were arrested. Media stoked public opinion against anarchists for their violent tactics. This all may also sound familiar.

This is the kind of history we could recall on Labor Day. A reminder that we’re not in control of what will happen after -- whether someone will throw a pipe bomb in front of us, whether the police will shoot at us, whether our homes will be raided or public opinion will turn against us -- but we can control how we react, what choices we make.

And those choices are not always easy.

Would you have marched in Grover Cleveland’s Labor Day parade in 1894? Would you have refused, still bitter from his response to the Pullman strike earlier in the year? Would you have waited until an eight-hour workday was the norm, something that still hadn’t happened 8 years after the Haymarket protests?

I’m not here to tell you how a hypothetical you should have behaved over a century ago, but the various texts assigned for this Sunday all converge around this theme of the choices we make.

In the reading from the prophet Jeremiah, God talks about being like a potter, and while that’s lovely and all, Jeremiah speaks of a vision of God-the-potter with a clay vessel that was spoiled, and which God reworks into an entirely new vessel. God literally says (paraphrased), “house of Israel, you are like this clay in the potter’s hand, I can break down and destroy kingdoms, and I can plant and build up kingdoms” (Jeremiah 18:5-9). This is not a comfort but a threat -- “you think we have this special relationship, but I could destroy you and make a new Chosen People.”

The Republican nominee for President this year has been using the phrase "Make America Great Again," and the Democratic nominee has countered with "America Is Already Great" -- which, while politically understandable, is a response I'm uncomfortable with on account of how it elides the MANY MANY ways in which America is deeply flawed. Now, I don’t think God is about to smush us into a ball of clay and build up a new nation on this land -- but I also don’t think it’s the worst thing God could do, especially since we white folk already played God on this land, nearly destroying the nations who were already here (the Wampanoag locally, and I’m not even going to attempt to list the currently 566 federally recognized Indian Nations in what is now the US).

San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick, a biracial man, recently got blasted by certain parts of White America for not standing during the national anthem before a football game.

In an interview with NFL Media, he said: "I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder."

Earlier in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus opens public ministry by reading from the prophet Isaiah “The Spirit of God is upon me, because God has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the jubilee year” (Luke 4:18-19, quoting Isaiah 61:1-2) and declaring “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” -- and then the hometown crowd tries to throw Jesus off a cliff. Now, one can certainly read the story as the people reacting to Jesus saying, “This thing that God promised to do? You have seen that promise fulfilled here and now in me” -- reacting to the equation of this peasant kid with God -- and certainly between the Scripture reading and the attempted murder, Jesus gives a little “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown” speech which seems aimed at pissing off the crowd. But I wonder if part of it was that they didn’t actually want that Scripture fulfilled -- because to do so would involve a radical re-ordering of the structure of their lives, their communities, their institutions, and they were not interested in that.

What if when Jesus said, “I have come to proclaim release to the captives,” Jesus meant, “That’s cool and all that you’ve started the slow process of shutting down the 13 federal private prisons, and you’ve declared that poor folks can’t be held in jail just because they can’t afford bail, but I am coming to abolish this whole system. I’m here to abolish Immigrant Customs Enforcement (ICE), and the Department of Homeland Security, and the whole prison industrial complex.”

I can imagine many people hearing a call to dismantle our toxic policing system as an assertion that, “If you do not hate your parent, spouse, children, or siblings who are police officers, then you are not able to be my disciple.”

Later in Luke, Jesus will say, “Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it” (Luke 17:33). Those who tie their identity to the structures of a fallen world will not be able to enter into the new life that is growing up all around us, but those who are able to empty their hands of all the preconceived notions we carry with us about how the world works will be able to receive new and unexpected gifts. You cannot learn to swim if you never let go of the shore.

In the text for today, Jesus uses the analogy of preparing for going to war -- cautioning that you not set yourself up for failure and embarrassment by getting into a war you can’t win. I don’t think Jesus supported war in the traditional military sense, but many in Jesus’ community expected the Messiah to be a Davidic king who would overthrow the occupying government. And I wonder if Jesus is saying in part, “You think we’re going to use the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house?3 Do you think you really have what it takes to defeat the Powers that are oppressing us, or are you going to find yourself outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, outplanned?”4

The Roman Empire was a powerful oppressor -- a military power that would literally leave people nailed up on crosses along the roadside dying slowly and painfully as a warning to anyone else who might try to oppose them. The Empire not only had vast amounts of military resources, but it also knew how to play games of intimidation and appeasement -- because the most effective way to police people is to get them to police themselves.

Jesus’ counter-intuitive way to win against the Powers is to not play their game. Jesus says, “If you do not give up all your possessions, you will not be able to become my disciple.” Your comfortable suburban home where all your neighbors look and vote like you. Your assurance that if you call the police, they will not shoot you or someone you love. Your comfort giving money to yet another film that casts a cisgender man as a transgender woman. Your insistence that people in pain from yet another microaggression be calm and gracious unpaid educators.

There are so many, many ways we shield ourselves from really entering into the pain experienced by marginalized people at the hands of the death-dealing Powers.

Theologian Laurel Schneider talks about “promiscuous incarnation,” asserting that “the narratives of Jesus of Nazareth suggest that the divinity which his flesh reveals is radically open to consorting with anyone. It follows no rules of respectability or governing morality in its pursuit of connection with others, many others, serially and synchronically, passionately and openly.”5

Earlier I used the analogy of needing to let go of the shore in order to be able to swim.

Letting go of the shore enables you to go on adventures, enables you to go deep. You can’t explore all the riches of the water from the shoreline. There is a whole world that is literally unavailable to you, that you literally cannot enter into.

In the reading for today from Deuteronomy, God says, "See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity." (30:15) God says (paraphrased), “Love me, stay close to me, obey my commandments, that you and your descendants may have life.” God wants so much for each and every one of us to be able to enjoy the fullest possible life. And that just isn’t possible while we’re cutting ourselves off from each other, shielding ourselves from necessary discomfort, continuing to be complicit in systemic oppression. It’s not that God wants us to be miserable, it’s that God knows transformation is hard.

Theologian Kathy Rudy asserts that in our culture’s emphasis on monogamy, “We are told that on the deepest level our allegiance and commitment belong not to our larger community but to our partner or nuclear family.”6

Is this perhaps what Jesus meant by saying we must hate our family to become Christ’s disciples?

We are called to open ourselves up to broader and deeper ways of being in relationship -- community conflict resolution that doesn’t call on the police or the carceral system, stories for our children about their futures that don’t presume their gender or sexuality, facing our history honestly and building new futures.

We do this by being vulnerable with each other and taking seriously people’s accounts of their lived experiences -- seeking out the words of autistic people, people with disabilities, people living with mental illness, currently and formerly incarcerated folks, indigenous folks and people of color... And I do mean people’s own lived experiences -- not people who have studied or worked with these populations; not tourists who tried out the experience of wearing hijab in public, asking for spare change on street corners, being a woman on the Internet, or whatever -- actual people’s own lived experiences in the world inhabiting their own identities.

This kind of relationship-building, this work of stretching our comfort and expanding our knowledge, doesn’t require waiting for a leader, it’s work we can do now, and must always keep doing as we continue growing into the Kindom.

Amen.

References (besides the ones already hyperlinked in the text)

1. On "hate" in this text:

2. In addition to the Jacobin article cited, I also skimmed the Wikiedia articles on Labor Day, May Day, the Haymarket affair, and the eight-hour workday; as well as an IWW piece on the origins of May Day, a Slate article on Labor Day, and a CNN opinion piece on Labor Day.

3. Shout out to Audre Lorde.

4. I said I wasn't going to reference Hamilton ... and then it happened anyway.

5. Schneider, Laurel C. "Promiscuous Incarnation." Chapter 14 in The Embrace of Eros: Bodies, Desires, and Sexuality in Christianity (Margaret D. Kamitsuka, ed.), 2010. Page 244.

6. Rudy, Kathy. "'Where Two or More Are Gathered': Using Gay Communities as a Model for Christian Sexual Ethics." Chapter 15 in Our Families, Our Values: Snapshots of Queer Kinship (Robert E. Goss & Amy Adams Squire Strongheart, eds.), 1997. Page 201.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

[QHC] We are the Body of Christ

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 12:12-31 (NRSV)

Content notes: mention of (no dwelling, no details) suicidality, self-harm, eating disorders, getting kicked out by your family, sexual assault

Now, will you pray with me? May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable to you oh God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.


You've probably heard this list of spiritual gifts many times before, but I want to focus on this verse near the end, verse 27 -- "Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it."

YOU are the Body of Christ.

The 16th-century Spanish mystic Teresa of Avila wrote:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
She is asserting that we are the means by which Christ's ministry of good work in the world continues:
Yours are the eyes with which [Christ] looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which [Christ] walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which [Christ] blesses all the world.
All the work that Jesus did -- siting at table with people, healing people, blessing people -- we are called to continue that work.

Paul is clear that we all have different gifts -- prophecy, teaching, healing, assisting, leading...

But I think that two of the gifts that Teresa of Avila highlights -- looking compassion on the world and blessing the world -- are gifts that we can ALL cultivate.

In her book An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, Barbara Brown Taylor asserts that, “a blessing does not confer holiness. The holiness is already there” (p. 203).

Can we look with compassion on all that is around us and recognize the holiness therein? Can we recognize that holiness in ourselves? She suggests practicing by blessing everyone and everyTHING that you come across -- it doesn't have to hear you, the important part is cultivating a practice in yourself of acknowledging the holy.

"Notice what happens inside you," she writes, "as the blessing goes out of you, toward something that does not deserve it, that may even repel it. If you can bless a stinking dump, surely someone can bless you. (p. 203)

Of course, the Beatitudes we are all so familiar with -- "Blessed are the meek," etc. -- do not merely say, "The meek are holy," they contain promises -- "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Taylor writes, "To pronounce a blessing is to participate in God's own initiative. To pronounce a blessing is to share God's own audacity." (p. 206)

These promises are glimpses of Kindom life, of what the fully redeemed Creation we are all working toward will look like.

Blessed are the sex workers, for they shall know pleasure without obligation.

Blessed are the queer kids kicked out of their homes, for they shall know the deep love of found family.

Blessed are the trans women of color, for they shall know bodies in which they are truly safe and at home.

In the long farewell discourse in the Gospel of John, Jesus is reported to have said, "Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these" (12:14).

It's easy to explain this as meaning that the later generations would convert even greater numbers of people or something like that, but I don't think that Jesus was so limited about what great works would entail.

I think that Jesus meant that we who came after would go even farther into radically transforming the world into one of God's delight, one where each and every one of God's children grows up in a community of care, with emotional support and health care and joyful play and meaningful work, with enough resources to comfortably sustain ourselves and those we love.

And we are all, together, the Body of Christ, reaching out our calloused hands and nursing breasts and singing voices, bringing the Kindom of God, little by little, closer to reality here on earth.

And even though we or others might say that we are not really part of the Body, because we are not like other parts of the Body -- we don't look like them, we don't act like them, we don't have their gifts -- Paul asserts:

If the foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. (vv. 15-16)
If someone says: Because you are not heterosexual, you do not belong to the Body...

If you say, Because I am suicidal, I do not belong to the Body...

If someone says: Because you have sex in exchange for drugs, you do not belong to the Body...

If you say, Because I cut and starve myself, I do not belong to the body...

Paul is there to say, no, you have been baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and you are a new Creation in Christ Jesus. You are God's beloved.

And Paul even goes so far as to point out here that "the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and those members of the body that we think less honorable we clothe with greater honor, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect" (vv. 22-23).

It is precisely those the world seeks to dismiss that God says are most precious.

If we are the Body of Christ, then that means that our bodies are the body of Christ. Our queer, female, Black, brown, disabled, trans, bodies.

Jesus walked the earth as a particular Palestinian Jew read by the culture as male, but the Body of Christ is our body.

Jesus brought something of that consciousness -- of what it is to live our particular embodied experience, our sexuality, our chronic pain, our gender, our sexual assault, our trauma -- to Jesus' time on earth two thousand years ago. In the way that only God can do, Jesus carried the experiences of billions of humans in one body. And in the way that humans are limited, Jesus didn't necessarily always get it right -- we can talk another time about how I'm not in love with Jesus -- but still, however so slightly, something of each of us informed the Jesus we read about in the Gospels.

Paul says in Romans, "For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another." (12:4-5)

We are members of one another. We belong to one another. We are responsible to and for one another.

This may mean blessing silently from a distance, this may mean offering the work and kindness of our hands, but whatever it is, it is always embodied, for we are embodied. And Paul's use of the image of the human body to describe the church universal, to describe our union with Christ, reminds us that our bodies are precious gifts from God, deeply beloved by God, and reflected in Jesus Christ. In this broken world, our bodies often fail or frustrate us, but let no one tell you that your body, or what you do with your body, makes you any less precious to the God who created, redeemed, and sustains us.

Amen.

Monday, January 19, 2015

[Children's Choice] alternative answers

As part of FCS' Living The Questions series, instead of a regular sermon yesterday, the pastors answered questions from the kids (questions the kids had generated in Sunday School in the preceding weeks, so the pastors had gotten to see and think about them in advance). [You can listen to the whole thing here.]

It was a lot of fun, but there were definitely a couple of questions I would have answered slightly differently -- and why have a blog if you can't use it for "what I would have said said instead"?

***

Why wasn't Jesus a girl? (Izzy & Carmen)

Jesus might have been a girl. All the stories we have talk about Jesus like Jesus was a boy, but sometimes someone who we think looks like a boy might actually feel like they're a girl -- or might feel like they're neither a boy or a girl.

But let's say Jesus really was a boy, just like all the stories we've heard. At the time that Jesus first showed up on earth, people listened to men a lot more than they did to women, so I think that when God decided to show up in human form, God knew that God had to look like a boy, or else people wouldn't pay much attention.

But Jesus knew that women's voices were really important. You remember the story of how Jesus got killed and then came back from the dead, what we call resurrected? Mary Magdalene was the first person who Jesus showed up to after coming back from the dead. She told all of Jesus' friends what she had found out, and they didn't believe her because they hadn't seen it for themselves, so Jesus showed up to them, too, but Mary Magdalene was the very first person who saw the resurrected Jesus, which I think is pretty special.

And there's one other piece of that story that I think is really interesting -- when Mary first saw the resurrected Jesus, she didn't recognize Jesus, she thought Jesus was the gardener! And I wonder if that's because Jesus looked different from the way Mary remembered, maybe Jesus looked like a girl!

Eventually, Jesus went away again, but we can see a little bit of Jesus in every person we encounter, even if they don't look like we would expect Jesus to look ... they might be Black, or they might be a girl, or they might use a wheelchair....

(Molly's answer started with the "people didn't listen to boys back then" and moved to the idea of Jesus coming back many times in many forms, but not in a way that I felt was particularly comprehensible -- admittedly, the whole "whatever you did to the least of these you did to me" etc. is difficult to wrap one's head around, though I parsed her as saying that Jesus came back multiple times in more of the ~literal way we tend to think about it, which was extra-weird-to-me. To her credit, she did mention a 12th-century mystic referred to Jesus as mother and sister.)

***

Does God know my name? (Cole)

Yes, God does know your name -- all of your names, in fact.

God knows the name your parents gave you, and all the nicknames that people call you, and all the names that you might choose for yourself in the future.

(Jeff's answer elided the fact that the name your parents gave you is not always your forever-name.)

Monday, December 30, 2013

Why Words Matter 2013

Rev. Molly was invited to be a part of an ecumenical workshop called Why Words Matter: Expansive Language & Liturgical Leadership (on Friday, October 4). She was unable to participate, and I was among the people she suggested as alternates -- "a lay person in our congregation for whom these issues are very close to her heart (and she is very articulate about gender and God! She's been keeping me on a growing edge about God, gender and trans issues for some time now)." ♥

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but I was pleased to get to attend and participate.

I knew the audience would be somewhat wide-ranging, so I was expecting some conservative folks (I don't think there were any) but was surprised to encounter people who would likely have described themselves as good liberals who said things like that The New Century Hymnal "ruined" the Christmas hymns. Yeah ... my starting place for gender/language conversations is apparently different from other people's.

Near the end, one of the organizers commented that from her dropping in on various conversations throughout the afternoon, it was clear that there was a lot of energy for these conversations to continue. I would definitely be interested in attending additional stuff like this. I will have my expectations calibrated more accurately -- and also may be more assertive about bringing up my hobby-horses: non-binary gender, non-male Jesus, and cultivating a practice of volunteering names and pronouns. [Sidebar: Nametags with pronouns!]

---

Apparently the impetus for this event was that someone was cleaning out her basement and sent the Mass Council of Churches [MCC] a (mimeographed! typeset!) booklet ("Faith and Mission: An Ecumenical Women’s Liturgy Resource Book was originally prepared by the Task Force on Women of the Massachusetts Council of Churches in 1978," says their blogpost) and MCC posted a photo to their facebook and got a surprising number of comments -- including from many people who were on the task force that helped create it. This suggested to them that while we may often feel like we're sort of "over" the inclusive language conversation, that we've "solved" that problem, in fact there's still a lot of energy around that issue.

Rev. Laura Everett told a story of being a teenager in a church that did a carrying the cross Good Friday walk, and she wanted to be Jesus, and of course she wasn't allowed to be. (On reflection, I wish we had talked more about imaging Jesus as female, since even in progressive contexts we're usually insistent that of course Jesus was male, and imaging Jesus -- or even the risen Christ -- as other than male seems wholly off the table, in a way that imaging Jesus as for example any race/ethnicity isn't. Laura talked about how she was excluded/marginalized, but I don't think she or any of us really talked about embodying Jesus as female -- other than Stephen Burns reading a Christa poem by Nicola Slee.)

Stephen Burns (professor at EDS) talked some about the history that brought us to this point. He said that while people talk about the 1970s, he thinks the heyday of inclusive language was the 1990s:

  • The UCC put out The New Century Hymnal (which edited the words to many traditional hymns as well as commissioning many new hymns) in 1995.
  • The Episcopal church put out Enriching Our Worship (a liturgical supplement) in 1997.
  • The Roman Catholic Church put out the ICEL [International Commission on English in the Liturgy] Psalter in 1995 -- which book was quickly quashed, 'cause oppressive Roman Catholic Church. (He said it's "like gold dust" -- that you can get it on eBay.)
Stephen Burns talked about the danger that expansive language can be co-opted, can be used to disguise a reality that is not as inclusive/liberative as the language might suggest, and so advised us to approach with a degree of suspicion and not naivete.

He talked about gesture -- which is one of his big things -- about how it's not enough for us for example to use non-hierarchical language if the way we structure all our liturgy and worship is still very hierarchical.

(One audience member I read as female talked about being mentored by Madeleine L'Engle who told her, "When you get ordained -- and you will -- don't become a little man.")

He also talked about context. He said he went to every feminist gathering in the north of England [he's originally from England] and removed all the Lord Father He etc. language from his vocabulary about God ... and then he became a father, and he needed to reclaim that language.

One attendee works primarily with a non-literate congregation, so she can't just hand out sheets of paper with alternate words. Also, as a well-educated financially comfortable white woman ... with a congregation of poor/homeless African-American men who use very traditional language ... she feels really uncomfortable telling them that their language for God is "wrong." Stephen Burns suggested that maybe that's not the fight to have in that congregation, that maybe in that congregation she needs to find ways to be on their side fighting poverty, racism, etc.

Another attendee brought up multi-lingual issues -- that in different languages, words can have very different connotations. She said that "Lord" in French has a "sweetness" to it, and even the tone the presider uses is different than when people say "Lord" in English liturgy.

People talked about The New Century Hymnal a lot. One woman said they "ruined" the Christmas hymns. Another woman said she has pastored 6 congregations in the past 16 years and there has been conflict about The New Century Hymnal in every one of them.

Wendy Miller Olapade talked about coming to the church through AA, having not grown up in the church, and getting out of seminary and into her first Call right around the time The New Century Hymnal came out and people were having lots of trouble with the new hymnal and she just didn't understand, because she thought the hymns were beautiful and these were the only versions she knew -- she reminded us that not everyone's coming from the same place, not everyone has the same history.

Inez Torres Davis talked about some of what she has learned in dealing with privilege. She said that she's learned that you need to acknowledge the pain that privilege experiences when it's .. she used some less strong word than "threatened," but I can't remember how she phrased it.
She said that privilege is fragile -- which she said neutrally and without any of the tone I would have inflected into that, but I totally loved it :)
She said that being uncomfortable is not the same as being unsafe.
She said that the purpose of the divine is healing, liberative.
She said that the Church, the Body of Christ, is suffering.

There was a little bit of conversation about referring to "expansive" vs. "inclusive" language.

+++

In the first breakout session, our prompt questions were on a handout that asks about your experiences of gendered language in liturgy, etc. Initially no one in my group said anything, so I opened with the fact that my experience is heavily influenced by the fact that my best friend is genderqueer -- so every time we say e.g. "male and female and a little bit of each" or "brothers and sisters," I wince because in that language my best friend is erased and told "you're not welcome here, you don't have a place here," even though of course I know that yes ze is welcome here.

One woman expressed concern that we go far that we're falling all over ourselves to be overly PC, and I chose not to respond. I wanted to respond to people's pushback, but I worried I would come off as defensive, and it felt more important to me to allow people to say their piece than for me to respond to every little piece of everything everyone said.

We talked some about language that would include my best friend -- like saying "brothers and sisters and siblings."

People talked about the concern of using the wrong language (in trying to be inclusive).

One of the women said that when you get to know people as people, then you'll know the right language -- because it will be language that you've learned being in relationship with that person, rather than just some abstract concept. She said that it's taking a risk, and you must be willing to fail -- that when people know you and know your intentions, they'll forgive you, and that you'll continue to have opportunities to try. (I think she was over-generalizing from her personal experience a bit, as I know people who would have felt excluded/offended in the examples she cited, and I don't think Good Intentions grant total absolution, but I did really appreciate her comments and felt it was more helpful for the gathered body for hers to be the last word on this than for me to pick it apart.)

+++

We had 2 themed breakout sessions -- you could choose from 4 topics (and there was a booklet with some reading material for each, which I wished we'd gotten in advance; it's up on their blog now):

  • The Lord's Prayer/Our Father
  • Trinitarian Idioms
  • The Great Prayer of Thanksgiving/Eucharistic Prayer
  • Texts and Contexts, Words and Actions
+

The first of the themed breakout sessions I went to was the Trinitarian Idioms one. We started with talking about what the Trinity is (because I was like, "I'm really bad at being a Trinitarian, and I know that any time I attempt to explain the Trinity to someone I'm using modalism or some other heresy, so I really have no idea how to go about using more expansive language without somehow being heretical" -- not that I necessarily personally have a problem with being heretical, but...) and the facilitator talked about inter-relationship and dance (she didn't say "perichoresis," but I thought it) and how one thing that Trinity indicates about God is that God is dynamic, not static. I said that was really interesting, because I feel like a lot of the pushback around changing Trinitarian language is that the inherited language is the language we have to use, that we can't change it, but there's a variety of Scriptural language for the Godhead -- including the Second Person of the Trinity: Jesus using "mother hen" language. One of the women at my table said that she taught her kids the "God is like a mother hen" song so they would have at least one alternative image of God in their minds as they grew up.

+

The second one I went to was the Eucharistic Prayer one, but I don't have much in the way of notes/commentary from that.

One participant offered the language:
hold bread: this is the broken body of Christ
look around: this is the Body of Christ made whole

Stephen Burns offered: "receive what you are: the Body of Christ; be what you see, become what you are"

+++

The person before me on the closing panel was a 58-year-old man who's been an ELCA pastor for like 30 years.

He talked about how using "traditional" language can be really powerful -- that he spent time in ministry with refugees from Communist Czechoslovakia, and they used very old-fashioned Slovak to pray the Lord's Prayer, and to pray in that language on the other side of the ocean was very powerful.

He talked about the importance of engaging in conversations, that you can't just impose things by fiat. (Which I suppose is equally true when you're a lay member with a fiat agenda :) )

+

One of the prep questions I was given for my part on the closing panel was: "What changes has your congregation made to gendered language in liturgy? How did you implement these changes to make language more expansive?"

I reached out to some folks who have been at FCS longer than I have, and I cribbed heavily from one person's response, so you get a c&p, which is more artful than my unrehearsed regurgitation was:

One shift we made during my time was adopting the New Century Hymnal [NCH], with its resolutely inclusive language. Prior to that we used the Pilgrim Hymnal, which had a lot of inclusive language but by no means always. For a while we kept both hymnals in the pews and sang some songs from each, and gradually phased out the old hymnal. But we still used the Pilgrim hymnal at Christmas, because many people found the inclusive language jarring in the very familiar Christmas carols. [...]

After we had used the NCH for a few years, [person] mentioned to me that she had attended a service at a different church where they were still using the Pilgrim Hymnal, and she was looking forward to singing the good old words. But, she reported, when they actually sang, it was jarring to hear He/Him/His all the time after getting used to inclusive language. Her consciousness had been raised, though she didn't say it that way.

[...]

As for LGBTQ [...] inclusive language, that really started with Molly. We became an ONA church years before Molly's tenure, but as is quite usual, he first few years after making the declaration, our ONA stayed on the down low. Some older members were very sensitive and anxious about it, and it didn't seem useful to pick fights with them. When Molly came, she "didn't know" how sensitive the issue was, and so "naively" flew a rainbow flag right away. Precipitating some pushback, and a compromise, but the tide had turned. Our prior settled pastors had mentioned LGBTQ…I people sympathetically but carefully; Molly was the first to talk about us casually, as if there were no controversy. And by being the change she wished to see in the world, the world (or at least, FCS) changed.

+

Katie Ernst, the final closing panelist, cautioned that we not perpetuate gender essentialism as we attempt to expand our language (e.g., only using She for gentle nurturing and He for fierce strong anger), which I can't say enough YES to. I do really appreciate that a lot of the ~contemporary hymnody that uses expansive language for God intentionally talks about e.g. fierce Mother God and nurturing Father God.

People had lots of positive feedback about the Welcome liturgy [also up on their blog], so Katie Ernst talked a bit about the process of shaping it. (It was like a very extended version of the Welcome we do at FCS.)

  • you start with what parts of yourself do YOU need to have named/affirmed/welcomed?
  • think about the people who will be in attendance, naming those diversities
  • acknowledge darkness -- "you who are worn out... you who are grieving..."
  • in the opening, acknowledge/honor those who have been in this space before us (including those who lived on this land before we colonized it)
  • this is gonna be like 5-10 minutes long, and people aren't used to a Welcome being that long, so there will be some discomfort, but lean into that

Thursday, September 12, 2013

[Savor] the prodigal (house of the rising sun remix?)

Savor last night was the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). Knowing how Savor works, I spent the meditative period thinking about how I would tell the story. (content warning for dubcon prostitution)

---

Once upon a time, there lived a parent who had a beautiful house, and acres of fruitful land, and two children.

The elder child was dutiful and hardworking, never complaining about anything.

The younger child, on the other hand, ached to leave the confines of this home.

One day, the younger child said to the parent, "I wish you were dead so I could take my share of the inheritance and get out of here."

The parent's heart broke a little bit, and ze handed over the younger child's portion of the inheritance.

Delighted with this newfound freedom, the younger child rushed out of the house. She was soon wallowing in all the luxuries money could buy -- food, sex, drugs, clothing, jewelry, transportation, lodging. The parent missed the daughter very much, but ze didn't talk about it -- the elder child had always bristled at the younger's longing to leave, and now he seemed even more quiet and withdrawn, working harder than ever now that they were short one laborer and with a significant cashflow problem.

Time passed, and the land continued to flourish, despite famine and storm. And the parent continued to miss the younger child.

Not everyone flourished in the midst of famine and storm. The younger child found that bartenders who had been willing to comp her drinks for little more than a smile started asking for more and more. Her wealth began to decline, and she started to sell many of the items she had accumulated -- always at a loss.

Things grew worse and worse, and eventually she was out of items to sell. She'd been using her body as a kind of currency since the beginning, but that had always been fun, a game she chose to play. Now she didn't have a choice.

As the only clothes she had were wearing out, she realized soon she would literally have nothing to call her own -- not even her body. She thought longingly of living even as a servant in her parent's house. She knew she was no longer worthy to be called "daughter," but perhaps, if she begged, she would be allowed back as a servant.

She swallowed her pride and began the journey home.

While she was still far off, her parent saw her and ran out to meet her on the road, embracing her.

She cried, "I have sinned against heaven and you; I am no longer worthy to be called your child."

But the parent called the servants and said, "Quickly! Bring the finest robe and put it on her, covering her shame. Put a family ring on her finger and sandals on her feet that she no longer be in the dirt. Bring the fatted calf and kill it. We shall have a feast and celebrate, for this child of mine was dead and is alive again, she was lost and is found."

So the celebrating began.

When the elder child came back from working in the fields and heard the commotion, he asked one of the servants, "What is going on?"

The servant replied, "Your sister has come home, and your parent has killed the fatted calf to celebrate."

He fumed and refused to go in. When the parent heard about this, ze went out and pleaded -- "Come inside and celebrate with us..."

But the elder child said, "Haven't I worked hard for you all these years, never complaining and never disobeying, and you've never given me even the smallest thing to use to celebrate with my friends, but this ... " he waved his hand rather than say the word, "squanders everything and you kill the fatted calf the moment she shows back up?"

The parents' eyes filled with tears, and ze said, "My child, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But this sister of yours was dead and is alive again. How could I fail to celebrate that?"

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

"It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back..."

Once upon a time, there was a young woman.

One day, she left the town she had been living in, and she traveled to the river at the edge of the wilderness -- that place where civilization and wilderness meet -- where her cousin had been baptizing people.

And her cousin said, "I can't baptize you! You are the one we've been waiting for."

("Shhh...," the air whispered. "We are all the ones we have been waiting for. The realm of God is within you."

But that is another story for another time.)

She said, "No, cousin, you must baptize me. For today I am beginning the work I have been called to do."

And so her cousin baptized her, and as she rose up out of the water, the heavens opened and the Spirit of God descended like a dove, resting on her shoulders, enveloping her, and said, "This is my Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased."

And the Spirit of God hugged her tightly and kissed her like a parent sending their child off, and the young woman traveled further away from the town she had lived in, through the wilderness and into the desert. And she neither ate nor drank, and some of us might call her journey a vision quest. Whatever it was, she was tempted mightily.

Out there in the desert, the rocks shimmering in the heat looked like they could be cakes of bread, and she knew somehow that if she wished it, she could make those stones into bread. But she remembered the teachings of her youth, and she said the words aloud, like honey on her tongue -- though they tasted sour in her stomach.

Sitting on a tall mountain, her stomach still empty, looking out over the places she had traveled through, out over the river where her cousin continued to baptize, out over the town where she had lived, out over other towns she had visited and towns she had never visited, she felt as if she could rule over them all, as if she need only say the word and they would be handed over to her power. But she knew that was not the power she was meant for, knew that taking that power would be giving herself over to another Power altogether, and again she quoted the teachings of her youth, trying to keep her voice strong, imagining as she spoke into the emptiness that the sounds floated over all that she saw, even as tears filled her eyes.

And then she imagined herself at the very pinnacle of the Temple, and she imagined what it would be like to fall off. Surely the God who loved her, who had birthed her, who had called her, wouldn't let her die? Surely she could find some rest. And all the teachings of her youth about God's protection danced at the edge of her consciousness; she could see the words dancing at the edge of her vision even as she felt like she might black out. But she knew that those were not the teachings for this moment. And she remembered who she was and Whose she was, and she whispered, "Into Your hands, I commend my spirit," and she passed out.

And when she came to, she was surrounded by good angels who gave her food and drink and shelter and rest. And after she had recovered, she went on and began her ministry.

----

At Savor tonight, Rev. Jeff M. told an abbreviated version of the Baptism/Temptation story that opens Jesus' public ministry in the Gospels. He invited us to tell the story in our own way. My best friend is the one with poetry in hir soul, but apparently it's catching?

[Blogpost title is a line that didn't make it into my story but which is from Sydney Carter's "Lord of the Dance."]

Sunday, June 30, 2013

[H!PS] this is not an evangelism testimony [Stuttering Sisters; June 27, 2013]

For some years now, I've been part of what started as a women's preaching circle. I opted out of this most recent round, as the spiritual journey slant (or however it was framed to me) wasn't something I really connected with. But then one of the sisters was visiting me in January and as she said to the list, "I met up with Elizabeth and she was talking about all these conversations she's been having with others regarding the substance of her faith and what difference it makes and I thought - that's what we're doing too!"

The month that I rejoined, one of the members explained: "This month we had an assignment to speak to someone in our lives about Jesus (to testify and evangelize) in a way that was new, uncomfortable, even scary."

This continued to be the theme for the duration -- though when I met with a couple of the sisters a few weeks before the season's closing session (in which I had the floor), one of them reminded me that technically I could do whatever I wanted with my portion of the time.

Since I'd rejoined, I'd been sporadically trying to cultivate some sort of practice of evangelizing, but nothing really stuck. In trying to help me brainstorm, the sisters who were visiting asked me why it is that I do all the church stuff I do -- which answer was basically the theme I'd already been thinking about talking about, but I felt somewhat more legitimated in my choice of topic.

(The name of the circle this season was, "Graceful Stuttering: Testifying to Intimate Encounters With Grace." Which I reminded myself of at times as I was attempting to write a draft and feeling off-topic.)

Below is the draft I wrote -- which is fairly close to what I actually said, except I ended up extemporizing at length about community at the end.

***

A few years ago, I was attending weekly events at 5 different churches in 4 different denominations. "You frequent ALL the houses of worship on [this street]," one of my then-pastors said, her innuendo both intentional and appreciated by me.

I routinely tell people that I live in in my head and while I have plenty of emotional response, I don't really have ~spiritual experiences~ -- so I often get asked why I do so much church, and 5 years later I have yet to come up with a good answer.

Marcus Borg uses the family analogy for religious traditions -- many of us grow up in one, and it feels like home because of that -- though he also acknowledges that some people justifiably need to leave their family of origin and find a new one.

Definitely a lot of my attachment to Christianity is because I grew up with it.

My mom brought my brother and I to church regularly when we were growing up, but the pastor's sermons put me to sleep, so I experienced church as more of a community than a theological anything.

When I started college and again when I moved out of my parents' house after college, it took some time for me to start attending church on Sunday mornings again because hey, sleeping in, pretty appealing.

I grew up without a denominational affiliation, so I tried out churches in various denominations -- but it didn't occur to me to try out Judaism or anything. Which is arguably in part a sort of blinkered privilege, but it is also true that Christianity is my home.

There's something about this Christian story that has a hold on me. Every time I think, "It would be good for me to have a better understanding of religions not my own," I am reminded that I am interested in, in decreasing order of interest: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, everything else.

But the fact that I will spend hours down the rabbit hole that is Wikipedia or other parts of the Internet researching obscure parts of Christian tradition doesn't explain why I attend so much church stuff -- since I was definitely accumulating worship services, not just Bible studies and small groups.

For all that I'm a misanthrope, I think I have to admit that one of the reasons is community.

I used to comment frequently that I didn't know how people who weren't part of a faith tradition met people when they moved somewhere new. Coffee Hour has free food and people are obligated to be friendly and welcoming to you but you can also hang out on the fringes for as long as you want until you feel comfortable actually engaging.

And then churches go even further and organize social events -- and do-gooder events, for people who like that sort of thing.

Also: physical contact. I am weirded out when I'm visiting a church and we get to the Passing of the Peace part and people just shake hands with the people in a 360 degree circle around them, not actually moving from the floor right in front of their pew. I have literally climbed out of pews so I can go peace people when whoever's at the end of my pew isn't moving. I will hug just about everyone -- though I try to remember to ask when it's someone I don't know, since people have different levels of comfort with physical contact.

Chelsea and Eda and I were talking about this when they were visiting, and then over ice cream after Bible study earlier this week it came up with some folks from First Church Somerville -- for most of us, church is basically the only physical contact we have all week. One of my friends literally worries about deciding to go home with a guy for a one-night stand just because the prospect of touch is so appealing.

First Church has grown big enough that I can't peace everyone I know on a given Sunday morning, and I keep being confronted with people I don't know at all, whom I feel obligated to greet and welcome even though part of me wants to weave past them to hug more of my friends.

The peril of built-in community, of course, is that it's not a community you built yourself, and so it may contain members you wouldn't have chosen for yourself.

There are people at First Church Somerville who when I first met them, I didn't like them all that much. Some of them I still don't like that much, but most of them have grown on me. Being in community forces me to live into Kindom reality -- even when I resist it.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

[book review] A Story of God and All of Us: A Novel Based on the Epic TV Miniseries "The Bible"

I didn't have any interest in watching this miniseries, but when I learned there was a NOVELIZATION of it, I was morbidly curious and ILLed it.

Contrary to my ~expectation, it's not actually ridiculous over-the-top bad. There's not a lot that I'm really adamantly opposed to, though there are various things that make me uncomfortable, as well as various narrative changes that make me go, "But that's not how the story goes!"

There's a lot of telling rather than showing -- which given that this is a novelization of film is kind of ironic ... were there a lot of explainy voiceovers?

-- and then I learned that GoodReads has a character limit for reviews. Hence, blogpost.

Long writeup: [I quote/cite/link a LOT.]

The introductory "Authors' Note" talks about their choice to "choose fewer characters and stories but make a much deeper emotional commitment" (rather than trying to tell many many brief stories -- it doesn't explain whey they chose a ten-hour mini-series format to begin with). They say, "we began the TV scripts, written by a team of writers under the guidance of many theologians, advisors, and Biblical experts. Their combined expertise brought forth vivid spiritual and historical images. To our great joy, when we showed the scripts to others for technical and creative feedback, the resounding messages we heard over and over were 'I've never been able to imagine these Bible stories so clearly in my mind,' 'I'm going to reread the Bible,' and 'You really should publish these scripts.' [...] We feel very inadequate to teach the Bible, and we are certainly not theologians. We are television storytellers. It will be easy for people to focus on how we have 'compressed stories' or find 'theological inaccuracies.' But on this point, we must be clear: we are not retelling the story of the Bible; it has already been told in the richest, fullest possible way, from the mouth of God and through His chosen prophets, students, and apostles. Instead, we are dramatizing some of these beautiful stories from our scripts."

1) Do we have stats on how much people's response to adaptations is to go read the original? Even when people know it's an adaptation and that there's so much ~more~ in the original, I feel like it's a minority of viewers who actually follow through on reading the original.
*I* wanted to go back and re/read the Bible thanks to various parts of this, but that was mostly born out of a desire to fact-check them/to see how the "real" story went.
2) I understand, theologically, why people think the Bible is God's best attempt at telling the Story, but seriously, I must be reading a different Bible than those people who say just open the Bible and read it and you'll get converted. It's not all narrative, and some of what is narrative is confusing, repetitive, contradictory, etc.

The opening chapter harmonizes the Creation stories and then spends most of its time on the Noah/Flood story, closing with:

      But God will act once again to save the world. For all time. But next time He will not need a Noah.
      Next time He will send His only son.
      This is a story of God and all of us.
-p.6
I don't love the "everything is leading up to/foreshadowing Christ," but it is understandable. It actually wasn't as bad as I was expecting.

God literally "destroying mankind in order to save it" (p. 2, literal quote) is kinda creepy, though it's not necessarily in violation of a "plain reading" of the text.

There's a nod to realism in the description of the experience of living on the ark, though the reminder that many of the animals onboard are not equipped for seafaring was I think unintentionally uncomfortable.

Noah telling the Creation story to keep people's minds off their distress is perhaps a heavy-handed "The Bible is the Greatest Story Ever Told," but I did actually appreciate the nod to the fact that the story/s we Christians see as old old stories (and thus, a bit far-away and musty) are the stories that are the lifeblood of the Jewish people -- the power of story, it is one of my themes.

Noah's wife and his son's wives don't get names, which I initially thought was one of the ways in which the authors were choosing to not embellish the Biblical story ("asks the wife of Noah's son Shem" -- from the Prologue -- is not a non-awkward phrase, so it had to be on purpose, right?), as females not named in the Biblical canon (e.g., Lot's wife) continued to remain unnamed. but then Pharoah's daughter who adopts Moses is named Batya -- but Wikipedia suggests that this name does stem from an extra-canonical tradition [note: Moses' birth mother does NOT get a name]. Given some of the other ~significant changes they make (see below), I'm not sure why giving names to the nameless is so verboten. (Later, in the Samson story, Samson's first, Philistine, wife gets named Habor [p. 101]. Maybe there's a minimum of screentime that gets a woman a name? I don't know how the on-screen mini-series dealt with identifying the people in Noah's ark... In one of the bonus additional fight scenes, we get one of Lot's shepherds named Lemuel and one of Abram's named Amasa -- both of which are Biblical names but of decidedly different people. We also get Ira, a spokesman for the Israelites who oppose Moses -- another Biblical character who doesn't exist in the canonical text.)

I disliked how so much negativity gets attributed to the women -- misogyny, much?

Given the canonical story of Lot's wife being punished for looking back at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, it's hard for me to quibble with her characterization as consistently suspicious of Abram's One God, but "seeds of dissension are sown by Lot's wife, a jealous and small-hearted woman who chafes at Abram's authority for forcing her to relocate" (p. 12) seems excessive.

The story of Abra[ha]m opens with telling us that Abram "is a direct descendant of Noah, eight generations on, through the lineage of Shem" (p.9) but it doesn't say anything about where all this paganism (which Abram is immersed in) comes from. God's call to Abram is unmistakable, and there's a nod to the fact that we're inventing monotheism ("Sarai, we are blessed. Today, God has spoken to me." / "Which God?" / "The God." / Sarai pulls back, confused. Theirs is a world of many different gods and idols, each designed to fulfill a specific need. Placing faith in just one god is a tremendously risky act. -p.11), but 8 generations seems a short time to have lost all memory of the God of Noah's ark, even with the Prologue's statement that, "mankind is fickle, and destined to make the same mistakes once again, turning their backs on God and His all-encompassing love." Though, I've been reminded recently about how recently slavery was legal in the USA, so maybe a few generations isn't all that long to forget things after all.

The Christianity Today article I read a few weeks prior noted that the mini-series adds in violence (as if the Bible is lacking), and I was reminded of this when reading the Abram/Lot story.

I don't oppose fleshing out a potential ideological (and, ultimately, theological -- when there isn't enough grassland for your herd, do you trust that God will provide because God has told you to stay there, or do you head for somewhere you know has more grassland?) disagreement that leads to Abram and Lot parting ways, but do we really need Lot and his followers to get attacked by bandits (off-screen) and then rescued by Abram (on-screen) on their way to Sodom and Gomorrah? [edit: This seems to be riffing off an actual incident in the Bible.] Does Lot's insistence on continuing on even after the attack really add anything to the story? Why couldn't they have just parted ways and the next scene be Lot in Sodom?

I had skimmed a devotional companion [via online preview, which I can no longer find, hence no direct quotations] before reading the book, and I was really pleased by the way it dealt with Sodom and Gomorrah -- Abram bargains with God, and the devotional explicitly supports that and even suggests that maybe Abram should have kept bargaining. It doesn't say anything about "the sin of Sodom," which I was braced for.

The novelization is less explicit in its endorsement of Abram's bargaining, and I am (mostly for other reasons) less of a fan.

      On it goes, Abraham bargaining for the people of Sodom while the Lord gently concedes, until Abraham reduces the number of ten righteous people. The Lord leaves. Abraham stands alone on the road, despairing for Sodom and his nephew. Because he knows, just as God knows, that his bold haggling with God is for naught. For there are not ten righteous people in all of Sodom.
      In fact, there is just one.
      Of course, God knows that. He has only bargained with Abraham as a testimony to their covenant. Abraham's fears about seeing Sodom destroyed showed the depth of his compassion, and God is honoring that. Now it is up to that one righteous man to save himself and his family.
-27
The text uses sexual sin as the primary symptom of Sodom's turned-away-from-God-ness, but that focus doesn't bother me a huge amount -- I think because the way the description arcs, I feel like the theme is that everyone in the city is using everyone else, including at very base physical levels.
The city is infamous for its vice and depravity, a place of idolatry that has not only turned its back on God but celebrates that fact. [...] Lot fears for his daughters, terrified that they will grow up to become as lascivious and faithless as the women of Sodom. It breaks his heart to imagine his gorgeous young girls living a life defined by lust instead of love, of fear instead of faith. [....] He can hear the moans of men and women having sex in the dark, dingy alleys. Were he to turn around right now, he would be able to see a barely dressed young couple groping one another, nearly nude prostitutes pushing their wares, a band of drummers entertaining a group of drunks, and a feral dog tied to a post--snarling loudly at all who walk past, and more than eager to bite into human flesh. (28)
I like that Lot is sitting by the city gates, gazing out into the desert -- liminal space, ftw!

We remove the "Lot offering his virgin daughters to the Sodomites" plotline, which I can't really fault them for, except that it seems so disingenuous to remove such a HUGE stumbling block of a story.

The pillar of salt that Lot's wife turns into gets blown to dust as Lot watches (I guess she was ahead of him? or looking back at your wife is okay so long as you don't look back at the city?), which irritated me because although non-canonical, there is a tradition that that pillar of salt still stands.

Hagar is with Abram and Sarai from their initial departure, conveniently eliding not just Abram's "she's not my wife, she's my sister" trick(s) but also eliding the fact that she's given to them along with so much other property (though she is explicitly identified as Egyptian).

God tells Abraham to listen to Sarah. The inheritance will go to Isaac. That is God's decision. It means that there is no more place for Hagar and Ishmael in his camp, but God reassures Abraham that they will be taken care of, and that the children of Ishmael will also become a great nation. (35)
I don't love God endorsing Sarah here.
This is being done at her insistence, and she knows full well that her demands might lead to the deaths of Hagar and Ishmael. She knows she created this problem in the first place by insisting that Abraham sleep with Hagar. So this is her solution. She is surprised to find that she does not take delight in forcing Hagar and Ishmael out. Sarah knows it needs to be done. This may be a cruel act, but she is not a cruel woman. For if this is not done, grave trouble could arise when Abraham's two boys grow to be men. (35-36)
Don't hate the player, hate the game?
The two of them will wander out into the desert alone, yet she [Hagar] trusts God to protect them. Hagar prays to God for help, and God provides it. Less than a week into their journey, they will run out water, and Hagar will fear for their lives. An angel of the Lord will appear to them at that time, promising that Ishmael will one day become the leader of a great nation. When the angel departs, a well filled with water will suddenly appear to Hagar and Ishmael, saving their lives. (36)
In writing this up, I realized that we got pages and pages of description of a MADE-UP story involving Lot and Abram, whereas this true story (a story shared by all three Abrahamic faiths) is all tell, no show. Also, didn't Hagar leave once before? (Hi, my research for preaching on the story of Hagar and Ishmael is showing...) Yes, I know we cut/condense lots of stories for time here.

We include the aqedah. I was actually a little bummed by Sarah running up the mountaintop to save her son, because I love the midrash from the lacuna that we never again see or hear from her -- the possibility that her pre-emptive grief kills her, the possibility that she stops speaking to Abraham (though this text doesn't preclude that latter possibility).

I'm irritated that the blame is placed on Jacob for favoring Joseph -- though, okay, at 17 years old, we can cut Joseph some slack for being a bit of a snot -- but we don't actually get any of him lording over his siblings; it's not a story of being humbled and then redeemed but rather a story of a good person to whom bad stuff happens, who ultimately prospers (because of God's favor) and gives back the same grace ("He shows his brothers the same love and mercy God has always shown him, particularly when times were so hard that hope barely flickered in his soul" [45] -- do we get to see those hard times in the film? because we don't get much in the novelization beyond the line "he becomes gaunt and filthy from months in the squalid and barbaric conditions" [42] re: his life in prison -- which line is immediately followed by, "Yet Joseph is an optimistic and a warmhearted man, even in the toughest of times").

More interesting, arguably, is that we skip the entire Jacob+Esau story -- INCLUDING Jacob wrestling with the "angel" :/ (I have gotten kind of attached to the idea of this story since my mom saying to me back in February of 2009: "I love that you struggle with Christianity fiercely and faithfully and I trust the Angel will not let you go without a blessing.")

I was bummed to lose out on "Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph" (Exodus 1:8). Instead we get:

For while they now live in luxury, this is not the land that God promised Abraham.
      Even worse, over the generations that follow, the drought that Joseph predicted means that thousands upon thousands are forced to leave. The people of Israel willfully travel to Egypt in source [sic] of food, then adopt this terrible new lifestyle just to stay alive. They build the great palaces and monuments of Egypt, working all day under the blazing desert sun, They are slaves of a great Pharaoh.
-47
I think "a man who will have the most extraordinary relationship of all with God" (47) is overstating it a bit, but I can let it go (since Moses is such a huge major figure).

The idea that Rameses and Moses had been rivals growing up in the palace is a neat addition. We get NOTHING about Moses' speech impediment/general feeling of unworthiness; Aaron is just kind of a sidekick (yes, it's explicit that Aaron and Miriam are his blood siblings, so we're not surprised that Aaron goes with Moses, but we lose a lot of depth).

I do kind of love that Moses gets "black kohl eyeliner" (53) -- to protect his eyes, obvi.

We blow through the plagues quickly -- which I don't actually have a problem with. Pharaoh says No after each plague (except, of course, the last) instead of canonically agreeing to let the people go and then retracting.

I appreciate that we do get an acknowledgement of the tragedy of the drowning of all the Egyptians, though it could have been better -- "A moment of sad realization passes, as the Hebrews realize that so many men are now dying. But this is followed immediately by the natural joyfulness of freedom, and the end of slavery for the Hebrews" (82).

We get a brief account of the giving of the Ten Commandments on Sinai, and a note that Moses doesn't get to enter the Promised Land, but not only do we get no explanation for why Moses doesn't get to enter the Promised Land, we totally ignore the fact that no one else from Egypt gets to enter the Promised Land, either -- no whiny wanderers, no golden calf.

I actually balked at the statement that Joshua leads the Hebrews into the Promised Land, so much have I internalized the idea that no one born in Egypt gets to enter the Promised Land (and Joshua got a lot of screentime as an adult in Egypt), but I Googled and apparently Joshua+Caleb got to enter the Promised Land.

I don't have particular thoughts on the Jericho/Rahab story. Yay for a story involving a woman positively. I'm not clear what the big deal is about Rahab, as the winning blow is the walls falling down, but that's a fault of the original story...

While I think it's an accurate precis of the original text, I still don't love the "God punishes the Israelites like a parent disciplines a child."

      But when Joshua dies, that faith seems to die with him. Generations of Israelites forget their covenant with the Lord, turning to other gods to meet their needs--gods of rain and fertility, gods of the previous inhabitants of the Promised Land, who they wrongly believe will bless their new way of life.
      God is grieved by this betrayal. He reminds the Israelites of the covenant with Abraham, and that the Promised Land is a gift that must be cherished. God uses hard, powerful armies to attack the Israelites, like a father disciplines his son.
      The cycle will be repeated for hundreds of years: Israel breaks their covenant; God sends foreign armies to subdue and subjugate them; they learn the lesson and cry out for help; God then raises a deliverer or "judge" to save them; and, once again, the land enjoys peace, until a future generation again forgets God.
      Of all the foreign enemies that subdued the rebellious Israelites to this point in history, none was more powerful than the Philistines. They soon conquer the Israelites and claim much of the Promised Land for themselves, yet God has not deserted his chosen people. He longs to renew His covenant with the Israelites and return to them the Promised Land.
      Once again, God chooses a most unlikely individual to carry out this plan--an eight-year-old boy named Samson, who has the strength of a lion.
-99-100
Someone with super-strength is not an "unlikely" savior, and Samson is much older than eight when he saves the day. ("The boy is soon born and given the name Samson, By the age of eight, he knows the story of the angel by heart. His mother believes that he is destined to free the Israelites from the Philistines. Ten years pass. [101]")

Samson's enough of a jerk that I probably wouldn't have included his story in an evangelization tool (to my surprise, they do the full version of the story -- and as I approvingly noted above, they give his first wife a name). They take out the flaming foxes, which is a bit of a bummer; and they also kill off his first wife (rather than just marrying her off to the best man), which seems a bit excessive. The addition of his mother convincing him to turn himself in is a narrative choice I don't have particular thoughts about -- I'm not sure if it's meant to emphasize how malleable Samson is to the will of women or something. The decision to take out Delilah's repeated betrayals of Samson make Samson look like less of an idiot, though it seems like a cheat to me.

We get the story of the Israelites asking for a king (p. 121).

The Samuel/Saul/David story feels fairly standard (I totally channel Kings). I was bummed that we don't get to *see* the anointing of David. They leave in the 100 foreskins story which, um, is a choice you can make. We don't get Jonathan protecting David, though I've heard they have a 'shippy vibe onscreen (even the bible ships it).

We extrapolate a whole story from, "Whoever wishes to strike down the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack the lame and the blind, those whom David hates [or, those who hate David]" (2 Samuel 5:8). [Wikipedia tells me, "According to the version of the story in the masoretic text, David managed to conquer the city by a surprise attack, led by Joab, through the water supply tunnels (Jerusalem has no natural water supply except for the Gihon spring)."]

David first lusts after Bathsheba BEFORE the famous "he saw her bathing on the roof...". Otherwise, the story stays fairly accurate -- and I appreciate that it's clear that David is sinning and Bathsheba is resistant (and did nothing to encourage the king's inappropriate attentions other than existing). We do get Nathan's indicting parable :)

After the death of Bathsheba's firstborn, we elide most of the rest of the story of that family. We're told in a sort of summary transition that they will have another son, Solomon, who "gains a reputation as the wisest man in the world. [...] But, like David, Solomon finds it impossible to follow God's laws. He is a man easily corrupted by his privilege and passions. After he dies, power continues to corrupt Israel's kings." (160)

Then we get:

      A new prophet named Daniel will speak in images telling of a dream in which God promised to once again save the Israelites by sending them a new king. "There before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He was given authority, glory, and sovereign power. All peoples, nations, and men of every language worshipped him." Daniel is dazzled as he speaks, overcome with the majesty and wonder of the dream that God revealed to him. But he does not know when he will come. Nor does Daniel know that this king will be directly from David, nor that his name will be Jesus.
(160-161)
I thought we would jump to the NT here, but actually we get Jeremiah.

Nebuchadnezzar's siege of Jerusalem (e.g., "The only question remaining now is the degree of suffering the king Nebuchadnezzar will inflict upon Jerusalem, and who among the Israelites will find a way to escape it." p. 173-4) reminded me of the story of slaughtering all the Amalekites -- which I think is a discomfort the authors didn't intend, since I don't think they want us to be critical of God's sanctioned genocide(s).

"The king of Babylon has been two long years in the battle waiting for Jerusalem to fall, and the simple act of leveling Jerusalem and burning the entire city to the ground has whetted his appetite for more." (178) So the conquest of the Near East ("every tribe and nation from the River Tigris to the River Nile, from the sands of the great Arabian Desert" to the great mountains that mark the gateway to what will one day become known as Europe") by the Babylonian Empire is the fault of the disobedient Jews? I don't think this is the authors' intent, but it makes me really uncomfortable.

The narrative takes up the "Fourteen generations of Israelites pass from Abraham to his descendant David, Another fourteen generations from David to the great deportation to Babylon. There will be fourteen more generations until the birth of Jesus" (176) and we get a longer version of the story of Daniel than the flash-forward allusion we got earlier.

I'm a little surprised that they left in the bit about "and God wants you to be subservient to the Persian king," though I suppose it's not all that problematic for the authors' theological worldview.

"They don't fear the new king--they welcome him. To them, he is a liberator. Daniel has studied the new king, and knows that the people in every territory that the Persian conquers have been left free to live and worship in their own traditions. Daniel smiles and says, 'He will set us exiles free.' " (184-5)

I knew that the story of Daniel in the lion's den as being that Daniel prayed to his God despite the ruler's decree. I'd forgotten that the ruler gets coerced (tricked, really, a la the story of Esther) into that decree.

In the original text, it's because Daniel has gained so much favor under the Persian ruler (who is named -- Darius -- in the original, but interestingly remains unnamed here) that the king is going to appoint him over the whole kingdom, whereas here we've already built up a narrative of the chief priests displeased that Daniel is favored under Nebuchadnezzar and thus they cut in front of Daniel to make accusations to the new ruler about Daniel before he can speak for himself. It's a nicer narrative flow this way, though I feel discomfort with the framing of the chief priests vs. Daniel (and, by extension, his God). It also lets the filmmakers add in "Daniel and his God are haunting the Persian king's dreams" (191) and a dramatic run through the palace (despite the fact that he's yelling, "Your God is real, your God will save you!"), rather than Darius fasting and unable to sleep because he has condemned Daniel to death and at dawn hurrying (wow, I am suddenly having flashes of "Early in the morning, on the first day of the week..." the Easter story) and calling out, "O Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God whom you faithfully serve been able to deliver you from the lions?" (Daniel 6:20).

At the close of this chapter, we get Daniel's vision of the Son of Man again, and this time the next chapter does bring us "[f]ive hundred years" (p. 197) ahead to the time of Jesus. In keeping with contemporary Christian culture, it's not until page 216 that we get the story of John the Baptist -- when we get to Jesus' baptism.

We open with a summary of Jewish history in the interim and the people's Messianic hope -- which begins with this devout couple in love. (In keeping with Matthew's genealogy -- from which we already got the 14 generations thing -- "Joseph is a direct descendant of King David" [197].).

The announcements to Mary and Joseph are fairly standard. On their way to the Bethlehem for the census, the ("[n]ow happily married" [201]) couple see the star ("Its brightness is a lamp unto their feet, and a light unto their path" [201] -- I see what you did there [Psalm 119:105, though really I just sing Amy Grant's "Thy Word" ... and now I'm thinking about the story of Jesus as the star]), which strikes me as a touch odd.

Babylonian Balthazar and two "Nubian potentates" (also called "Magi" in this text) also notice this star.

The captain of the guard comes to drag the elderly priest away. But the old man will not be silence, and even as he is pulled from the temple library, soon to meet his fate, he keeps reciting prophecy. -206-207
I'm reminded of slacktivist [e.g., this post] talking about contemporary apologetic evangelism -- the idea that you can (should) just tell people things and they will be converted by the power of the Truth (I joke that's how the Athanasian Creed works, but...)

I'm not sure why we make Herod ill. It's not like he surprisingly drops dead shortly after the escape to Egypt or anything. He's also explicitly *fat* and ill, which I think is supposed to be interpreted as symptomatic (his excess having corrupted both his body as his soul and his kingdom) -- which suspicion is supported by a later text: "Herod has lived a life of debauchery, and it catches up to him" (212).

As expected, everyone shows up at the manger together, including children -- "A young shepherd--the same boy who gave Joseph a bundle of kindling just hours earlier--now steps forward to offer something far more precious: a lamb." (208) I see what you did thar, authors. And oh, next sentence: "Joseph is thankful, but the truth is that he doesn't fully appreciate the gift." (208)

The star has led many to this site. The same angelic intervention [ed. what? this is the text's first mention of angels] that brought Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem has also spread the news to those who need to hear it most: local. shepherds, neighbors, and ordinary people. These are the ones whom Jesus has come to save, and for them to be standing in this small barn on this cold night in a moment unlike any other in time. They are witnessing the dawning of a new era--the fulfillment of the new covenant between God and humanity. (208)
Balthazar and the Nubians arrive later that same night.

We hear about the ~anarchy that ensues after Herod's death, and about the Romans quelling the disturbances. We are told that "The penalty for political dissent is crucifixion" (212) which I really appreciated, since so often in evangelical circles, Jesus' death is de-politicized.

Jesus' family returns to Nazareth and then at age 12 his parents take him to Jerusalem for the first time, for Passover, and we get the familiar story of Jesus in the Temple -- with bonus dove guiding Mary to him (heavy-handed foreshadowing, much?). "Nearly twenty years" later we finally meet John the Baptist. I do appreciate that we retain the familiar John the Baptist stories that precede Jesus' baptism, though I don't love the contemporary evangelical way we talk about baptism.

The Messiah is here. Now. His head and body are submerged in a baptism that he does not require, for Jesus has no sin. But the ritual sends the symbolic message that a time of renewal for all mankind has begun. (219)
The blogger who wrote the Christianity Today piece interestingly notes:
For a mini-series about the Bible that makes a point of showing how conscious its characters could be of the scriptures and traditions that already existed in their day, it is striking — if not puzzling — that the scene of Jesus’ temptation in the desert downplays any reference to the scriptures.

The gospels make a point of showing how Jesus refused each of Satan’s temptations by quoting scripture, and when I was growing up, this story was always held up as an example of how we needed to know our Bibles. But in this episode, Jesus seems to appeal to nothing more than his own impulses.

He does quote the verse about man not living on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God — but he never says “It is written.” He never makes it clear that he is quoting the words of God himself even as he speaks.

After the three temptations in the desert, Jesus immediately goes to synagogue and reads from Isaiah.

      "Mary's fears are well founded. For she knows, just as Jesus knows, that they live in a world where making waves and challenging the status quo is met with unrelenting violence." (222)

This is the part where it started feeling overmuch to me -- because I know the context of the authors, and I worry about a USian Christian persecution complex.

This is immediately followed by the arrest of John the Baptist.

I had recently read Mark in its entirety ("chronological" NT read-through) and was struck by how it feels like it's quickly moving from story to story.
Maybe the gospels read more compellingly onscreen, but reading this book, it felt even more disjointed and less compelling than the actual gospels do.

Jeremy commented about the salesperson feel, somewhere I can't find, but the Christianity Today article also says:

More significantly, when Jesus first meets Peter and gives him a miraculous catch of fish, the script omits any reference to Peter's awareness of his own sinfulness (as per Luke 5) and, instead, has Jesus make bland pronouncements such as, "Give me an hour, and I will give you a whole new life." Later, Jesus tells Peter he's giving him "the chance to change your life" and says that, together, they will "change the world." This is the language of talk shows and infomercials, not the language of first-century Jews and Christians.
The chapter ends with "Change the world" and the next chapter opens with a picture of Roman-occupied Israel. I don't love the heavy-handed "The baker is the busiest vendor of all, with crowds lining up to purchase their daily bread, the symbolic reminder of God's ultimate authority over their future. It would be foolish to buy 'monthly bread.' It would spoil. They buy it day by day, living in the moment, not fixated on a future they cannot control. That gives the people of Israel an important sense of peace at a time when their nation is tormented." (229), though I do like that the first miracle we see (okay, fine, after the miraculous haul of fish) is sending the 7 demons out of Mary of Magdala, though it feels a little strange to me that they don't keep with John's account (2:1-11) of the wedding at Cana as the first (public) miracle.
The Roman soldiers study Jesus as if he is a threat. Their job, should this be the case, would be to subdue him immediately.
      But Jesus doesn't give them cause to do so. His every action is one of peace.
-231
Erm... Okay, Jesus never acts violently except overturning the tables of the moneychangers in the Temple (which story we do get later, pp. 264-266), but come on, "I have not come to bring peace but a sword" (Matthew 10:34) anyone? Plus, I feel like this makes Jesus into someone who is explicitly about not upsetting the status quo.

I'm uncomfortable with the "Jesus' forgiving sin was blasphemous because only God can do that" (even when I hear it in my own Christian contexts, I'm not entirely convinced) -- and REALLY uncomfortable with the "Jesus offered them a new way to connect with God, without animal sacrifice etc." (since I think that oversimplifies the Judaism of the time).

"never talking down to the disciples, patiently letting the words soak in until they understand them fully" (234)

Haha, that's cute...

'His revolution is a grassroots movement" (234-5)

Yup, the Tea Party has ruined me on this. It's totally a true statement, but knowing that this text is being written by conservatives I get squicked.

"He has chosen this moment because his audience of farmers, shepherds, laborers, and their families do not have the financial luxury of taking time away from their occupation during working hours" (235). Nevermind that fishermen "fish all night, mend nets in the daytime, sleep, and then fish some more" (223). I understand what they're trying to get at (and again, I should be a fan, but knowing their background I make inferences and get squicked), but they're being sloppy.

At one of his sermons, Jesus quite clearly told the crowd to uphold the law, knowing that to ignore Roman law would mean a wave of punishment against his new followers. In Israel, Roman law and religious law are closely intertwined. If the Pharisees can catch Jesus in the act of breaking a religious law, then they can try gum before a religious court. Based on the words of the Pharisees, if Jesus is also shown to be a radical or a revolutionary whose teachings will incite rebellion against Rome, he could also be tried before a Roman tribunal. (238)
I appreciate the build-up to Jesus being crucified by Rome, but since when was Jesus an accomodationist? I am forever referencing Horsley's Jesus and Empire and dude, what sermon are you effing talking about? There's the "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," which I don't think we actually get in this text, but that's about all I can think of. Dear authors, you're thinking of Paul (or perhaps more accurately, "Paul").

Jesus writes "Judge not, lest you be judged," in the dirt in the story of the woman caught in adultery. I've possibly encountered that before, but I still don't love it. I haven't seen much midrash about *what* (or even why) Jesus wrote in the dirt there, but I want some serious payoff for that mystery.

I'm not sure what to make of the addition of the woman caught in adultery having an infant baby.

"Jesus and two of his disciples" (240) dine with Simon and a small group of Pharisees. Mary Magdalene slips into the room, bringing with her a woman who is a sinner and who brings with her "a small stone jar" (241), She "pours a few drops of the precious liquid on Jesus' feet, and rubs it in with her bare hands" (241). Her fear seems really plausible, and the text tells us that Jesus recognizes how important this moment is for her, but the original text is about an outpouring of excess -- and we don't get Jesus schooling the Pharisee, which I was a bit disappointed about.

The Sabbath healing of the man with the withered hand triggers a riot in the streets, which I was not stoked about, especially because Jesus then leaves the riot to happen -- I'm not disputing his nonviolence stance, but it seems callous to not do anything when "The city's streets are now in a state of unrest. Roman soldiers wade into the fracas, grabbing the Pharisees and dragging them back toward the synagogue. The Romans are only too happy to mete out punishment with fists and clubs. Jesus goes one way, leading his followers to safety. The Pharisees go another In the streets, it escalates into a bloody scuffle between the oppressed Jews and the Roman legionnaires" (244). (Okay, I do like that we used the word "legionnaire," even if we don't get the "We are legion" Gerasene demoniac.)

"The Pharisees represent the common man." (244). I'm glad that the authors acknowledge that, since it's so easy to vilify the Pharisees based on the way the gospel writers always talk about them in opposition to Jesus.

"Peter eyes the man with suspicion. 'We went through all sorts of trials to become disciples,' he mutters to Matthew. 'Now this guy just walks in from who knows where and gets to join?' " (248). No, you didn't. I would like to think that we the readers are supposed to roll our eyes at Peter, but this guy turns out to be Judas, and while the text doesn't go overboard in making him a bad guy from the get-go, it also sort of suggests throughout that Judas doesn't exactly fit as a disciple.

"The crowd is soon demanding more food" (249) bzuh? Are we supposed to dislike the crowd? This seems to really undermine the power of the miracle -- canonically there were always leftovers!

When we hear about the death of Lazarus (p. 253), we learn that Mary of Mary-and-Martha-and-Lazarus is the "sinner" who anointed Jesus' feet -- which is one way to reconcile the multiple accounts of the anointing of Jesus, though it seems a bit random to tell us here that Lazarus is a friend of Jesus' when we've had no prior indication of any relationship (the Mary-and-Martha story is kinda fraught, so I'm okay with losing it, but still) including when the woman showed up and anointed.

Also, we miss the one time when Jesus weeps :(

Immediately after the raising of Lazarus, the chapter ends with Jesus declaring that they're going to Jerusalem. I don't love the framing of, "Don't you think it's time, Peter. that we finally go to the one place that needs to hear my message more than any other?" (256)

We have a recurrent theme of Pontius Pilate's wife Claudia, which I'd forgotten actually shows up in canon (Matthew 27:19) rather than just being a development of tradition.

"He rides a donkey, which is most unusual for a man who walks everywhere, but it is the traditional way a king would come to visit his subjects if he came in peace." (261)

I don't know how actually accurate that is, but I think it's interesting.

"The symbolism is not lost on the crowd, who know their scripture well." (261)

While I don't love (including in the canon) the incessant "and this was to fulfill the prophecy," I actually felt fondly at this line, because it treated "the crowd" as intelligent, thoughtful, well-versed in their traditions.

"What does he mean?" asks the one they call Thomas, the one who is constantly so doubtful. "Destroy the Temple? I don't get it."
      John has a gift for vision and insight that is unparalleled among the disciples. "He's saying that we don't need a stone temple to worship in. He will be our access to God."
      "Really?" Thomas questions him, once again showing his unerring ability to question every little fact.
-p. 269
Oh, so we're using John the Gospel writer as John the disciple -- and could we not be such a jerk about Thomas? I'm glad we retained his "Let us go so that we may die with him" as they head to the dead Lazarus even if he says it "glumly" (254).

[And on page 336 we learn that this same John is on Patmos, too.]

Thomas gets a bit unfairly treated, I felt. I get that having a recurrent characteristic can be a way to flesh out characters, and I kind of liked what they did with Peter as rock, but with Thomas it felt like harping on one note ... like the little sister always wearing purple in a children's book I proofread.

The way Caiphas frames to Judas turning over Jesus to them ... "Save him from yourself while you still can" (273) -- yeah, "This is not at all what he intended." (289) And so we get the version where he gives back the money and hangs himself (Matthew 27:5).

Mary Magdalene is the only person besides the Twelve to be at the Last Supper, which I understand is consistent with traditional representations of the story, but which is contrary to the way I read that story (as an abundant open table).

Interesting that the authors (through Nicodemus) bring up "Judas is bringing him to us before dawn." (Caiaphas) / Nicodemus: "But the law does not allow it. A trial must be held in daylight." (278) -- and again, "You can't go through with this. This is not legal. Our laws say that a capital trial should be held in court, in daylight, and in public." (285) I'm not sure what the authors are trying to get at with that -- almost no one reading this is going to be familiar enough with Jewish law to know that (and if they are, this will likely be the least of the problems they have with this mini-series); does the extra vilifying of the authorities add anything to the story?

I was confused by, as one character states, "The witnesses' evidence in clear and unequivocal" (287) since Mark 14 is at pains to tell us the witnesses' false testimony did not agree (which retaining would seem to support the authors' stance that the authorities are conspiring to unjustly condemn Jesus):

Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Some stood up and gave false testimony against him, saying, "We heard him say, 'I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.'" But even on this point their testimony did not agree. Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?”
-Mark 14:55-60

We get the story of Mary going to the tomb alone. She enters it, so initially she doesn't recognize Jesus because of the darkness she is literally in (wow, I see what you did thar). She recognizes his voice when he says her name. We don't get "Noli me tangere." He tells her, "Go and tell our brothers I am here," and, "overcome with joy, she sprints back to Jerusalem to tell the disciples the good news" (309).

She drags Peter and John back with her, and Peter enters the tomb and is greeted by white light Jesus, who disappears before Peter can touch him (echoing "Noli me tangere"?).

Peter's exuberant response to this is to buy some unleavened bread and pour a cup of wine and say, "His body. And his blood, Believe in him. He's here. In this room. Right now. Remember what he told us: ''I am the way, the truth---'" and then Jesus appears and finishes the sentence: "'--and the life.'" (311)

Hello, Real Presence.

Wow, we totally vocalize the skeptics through Thomas -- "This is not possible. There is no way you are Jesus standing here with us. This is all a fantasy, an apparition brought on by our insane mourning for a man we loved so very much" (311). Which, actually, doesn't feel to me like a jerk characterization of Thomas -- yes, he's standing in for all the modern-day skeptics, but it's legit.

      "No," says Thomas. "This is not possible. There is no way you are Jesus standing here with us. This is all a fantasy, an apparition brought on by our insane mourning for a man we loved so very much"
      Jesus walks toward Thomas and takes his hand. "Thomas," Jesus tells him. "Stop doubting and believe." He places Thomas's fingers into the gaping holes in his hands, and them to the hole in his side. Looking down, Thomas can clearly see the awful marks atop Jesus' feet where the spikes passed through flesh and bone, then into the wood of the cross.
      Thomas doesn't know how to respond. He has traveled far and wide with Jesus, and he knows Jesus' voice and appearance as well as he knows his own. But when Jesus is asking of him is impossible. Thomas is a man of facts--a man committed to truth that cannot be disputed by emotion or trickery. He is being asked to believe that he is touching Jesus, as alive as the last time they all broke bread together in the upper room. It seems impossible. But it is real. This is Jesus, not some dream or vision. Thomas touches the wounds and hears his teacher's voice. Overwhelmed, Thomas looks into Jesus's eyes. "My Lord and my God," he stammers, tears filling his eyes. "It is you."
      Jesus looks at his disciple with compassion. "You have believed because you see me. But blessed are those who have not seen me, and yet have believed."
      Faith floods Thomas's entire being as he slowly accepts what it means to believe that anything is possible through God. This is the faith in Jesus that will transform lives. Not seeing and yet still believing.
-311-312
What really struck me when I was reading this book the first time was the Pentecost. We get cheated out of Road to Emmaus :( and then the disciples are gathered together just them when Pentecost happens.
But Jesus' disciples are not in Galilee. They are gathering in Jerusalem, easily concealed among the hordes of pilgrims. Jesus has promised them that the Holy Spirit will come to them, but they're not quite sure what that means. So they remain in their hiding place, waiting. [....]
      The lamps in the room flicker and smoke as the prayer continues. The room grows suddenly dark. The wind outside rises and sound fills the room. Shutters bang open. Scared but unbowed, the disciples continue praying. Tongues of fire enter the room and settle upon each apostle. The Holy Spirit fills them. Soon each of them is praying in different languages, even though none of them have ever understood those tongues before. In this way, they are being prepared to go out unto all nations and preach the Word of God.
      Their prayers and their foreign words now miraculously reach out across the city. People can hear the apostles, even though they cannot see them. [....]
      The wind howls across Jerusalem. Even a Roman soldier understands the simple phrase now ringing in the ears of every man, woman, and child in Jerusalem: "Everyone who calls on the Lord will be saved."
-314-316
Okay, rereading Acts, that is the last line of the Joel quote -- apparently what I always remember about the Pentecost story is the actual experience of the tongues of fire and everyone hearing the message in their own language.

We get "silver and gold have I none..." (to quote the song I learned as a child), the martyrdom of Stephen, and the conversion of Saul/Paul -- which adds in Saul meeting Ananias earlier in his journey to Damascus and having him arrested and beaten (he escapes). I don't love, "Saul hasn't touched the meal provided for him last night, and he has knocked over a bowl as he groped in the darkness" (324) since I think Saul fasted on purpose and I don't love the "poor helpless disabled people."

Rather than the bedsheet vision before Cornelius' visit, we get Jesus telling Peter to move out of the Jewish communities to Caesarea -- Peter: "But cleanliness keeps us close to God." / Jesus: "Peter, you could not be closer. I am with you always. And it is I who make all things clean." (328) The narration continues: "Peter is confused. All along, he has been thinking that only Jews can be led to faith in Jesus. It is a radical notion that anyone, of any faith or nationality, can also receive God's blessing." I eyeroll a bit, because the battle Paul fought was whether Gentiles had to convert to Judaism first -- there was never any doubt that Gentiles could e.g. come to Jesus.

We do get the conversion of Cornelius' family, which is sort of a nice nod to the historical fact that entire families would convert, though it's also a little uncomfortable because it's the patriarch (word used advisedly) making the decision on behalf of everyone else.

Paul's best lines are all packed into one opening evangelism speech (actually directed at a community of believers who, remembering his past, "debate within themselves whether or not to set aside the peace of their beliefs just long enough to kill this awful man standing before them" [331]) -- which I can buy for dramatic narrative purposes (I'm reminded that we don't know exactly *how* Paul started his communities). Interestingly, one of the new converts is Luke the Gospel writer.

Then we get a series of martyrdoms (including Peter famously being crucified upside down) and John on Patmos -- because of course you have to end with Revelation (though in a very abbreviated fashion).