This ran in this month's Forum Letter put out by the Lutheran Forum folks.
Epiphany: mission statement of the Church
By Paul Gregory Alms
No word is used more often in church
circles these days than mission. It has
picked up a plural over the centuries
(missions) and morphed recently into an adjective
(missional). Almost every congregation is expected to have a mission statement. In some quarters there is talk of little else besides mission in all its
forms. This emphasis is a salutary one and has borne
much positive fruit in the Christian community over
the past few decades.
The word mission derives from the Latin
missio, sending, and it touches on the heart of the
Gospel testimony that the Father sent his Son to the
world for salvation and that same Christ sent the
apostles (the word apostle itself is derived from the
Greek word for .to send,. apostellein) and the church
into the world to preach the Gospel to sinners. Missio Dei sums up much, if not everything, about the church's vocation in the world.
But these days talk of mission often proceeds
as if Christians have never really practiced mission
before the advent of the church growth movement
or since the church woke up and discovered itself in
a .new mission paradigm. with the surrounding
culture having been drained of its putative Christian
content. Most writing and speaking on this subject
sounds as if the church is creating mission out of
nothing every few years. Everything is thought to be
new: a new situation, a new strategy, new goals,
new results.
"Doing mission" nothing new
This is wrong-headed on several counts. The
church has been "doing missions" (as we say these
days) ever since the church began, and it has never
stopped. Pagan Europe was converted to the faith
well before Donald McGravan. The push to develop
mission strategies ex nihilo every few years turns the
church into a scatterbrain, hurrying this way and
that way with no apparent purpose.
Such scurrying ignores the Christians who
have gone before. Surely our situation is not so
bizarrely new that there is no continuity at all between us and our forebears. We are not the first saints who meet a large number of unbelieving people around us. The church of the past has wisdom to share. The church is not born with a missional blank
slate every generation.
In fact, the church has already written the
greatest mission statement ever and dropped it in
our lap. It is the Epiphany season of the church year.
The church has never been unaware of the need for
reflection on the centrifugal nature of its life. It devoted an entire season out of only six to precisely this topic. The season of Epiphany proclaims the
great mission texts of the New Testament: the evangelization of the Magi, the testimony of the Father at the baptism of Jesus, the missionary tours of Jesus
and the apostles. The season's structure, its texts,
hymns and color, gives a vital template for the
church.s mission. The Epiphany season was missional before there was such a word.
God made flesh
The season's progression from Magi to Baptism of Jesus to the preaching of Jesus himself to the Transfiguration is itself a mission blueprint. The
story of the Magi places the Son of God in his Incarnation at the very center of the church's proclamation. What the church calls sinners to is not some
vague goodness or love. It is the enfleshed God himself. The real presence on earth of the Creator, his presence in the tangible body of one born of a
woman, is the miracle at the heart of the church. The
Magi do not come to worship an idea or a philosophy; they bow down before a human being, God in flesh made manifest.
The connection between the Magi and the
church today is at the altar, in the real presence of
Christ now in the Eucharist. The mission of the
church is not one focused on numbers or growth or
any other quantifiable goal. It is to lead people to,
and keep them in communion with, the life-giving
and death-defeating flesh of Jesus. That contact
comes in its highest and most profound way in the
sacrament of Christ.s Body and Blood. As the Magi
knelt in humble and awe-filled faith, so the church
fulfills her mission by bringing her children, large
and small, to the sacramental manger, to kneel and
worship and receive that same Christ.
If Epiphany shows us the Incarnation and
Eucharist as the center of the church's life and mission, it also shows us Baptism as the foundation of that life. The first Sunday after the Epiphany takes
us to the waters of the Jordan where we recall the
Advent preaching of the Baptizer. To those far off,
those who had, in sorrow over sin, forsaken the borders of the promised land, John sternly preached repentance. In the season of Epiphany the accusing
finger of John is replaced by the saving voice of the
Father which points no longer to the sins of those
wishing to draw near but to the dripping wet figure
of his Son leading the way into the water. Mission
preaching leads to the font.
Beyond the Jordan
The place of this reading at the beginning of the Epiphany season and the status of the river Jordan as a border between the wilderness and the
place of God.s presence in the temple and in the
land of promise makes this text significant for the
theology of mission. Entry into the church takes on a
specific shape. It is wet and it is filled with the figure
of the God/man who is the substitute for sinners.
Not having crossed the border, not having been buried in the Jordan with Jesus, people remain foreigners.
In pursuit of her mission, the church is sometimes tempted to devise her own strategies in trying to engage the culture in a fresh way. Such improvisation may be warranted or useful, but it must never
be at the cost of losing sight of what is eternal in the
New Testament proclamation itself. The season of
Epiphany in its structure and readings reminds us of
this. Those whom the mission calls to join Christ and
his church are on the other side of the Jordan. We
ourselves by our sins and selfishness find ourselves
on the wrong shore of that heavenly stream. Baptism must always be the underpinning sacrament, the life-giving flood offering new birth, the ocean of
forgiveness which Christ calls us forever to swim.
Mission paradigms, strategies for evangelizing the
world or the neighborhood, that do not lead to and
through the water of Baptism risk losing connection
to him who began his ministry in that very water.
Catechetical green
The liturgical color of the season of Epiphany
is green. This humdrum fact takes on some weight
when one looks at the season from a missiological
perspective. The season of Epiphany teaches us that
mission is a long-viewed, patient activity of the
church. It involves growth and maturity in the Gospel. It leads the church on a tour with Jesus around Galilee to hear him preach and to witness his mighty
acts. The church's mission aims at heaven. We are in
it for the long haul. The church is dressed, in other
words, in green, catechetical green. We are not in the
business of growing dandelions, blowing the seeds
of the gospel to the winds and then hoping for a
bunch of fast growing but ephemeral flowers that
bloom and then disappear.
No, the church is more like a forester who,
seeing a burned-out section of forest, begins planting seedlings, tending, watering, planning for and envisioning a vast forest of towering trees. Such
Christians have roots that stretch deep into the
scriptural, sacramental, Gospel foundation of earth
and soil so that no storm may damage them. The
church.s mission is to nourish Christians on the
words of Christ, season after season, so that they
may reach his fullness.
Seeing Christ as he is
This eschatological point of view asserts itself clearly in the grand finale of the Epiphany season: the Transfiguration. Here the Magi scene repeats itself, transposed to a heavenly, eternal key. Once more God in flesh is at the center and surrounded by worshiping mortals. But now it is no
longer the travelers from the east but the glorified
saints of old and the trembling church militant that
stand around Christ. And the saints see Christ as he
is: filled with divine light, the promise of the manger
now fulfilled. This is the goal of the Epiphany season, to manifest Christ to all for the sake of salvation and worship and praise, the purpose for which we
were created.
Epiphany and the mission of the church are
one at this point. The church.s mission is to bring
sinners to the beatific vision of Christ. The mission
of the church is pointed squarely at the divine light
that overshadowed that ancient mountain. The
Transfiguration shows us how important the work
we do in the church really is. We are not simply tallying numbers or building a .successful. enterprise. Christ is leading us up Mount Tabor, leading us up
Calvary, leading to the Mount of the Ascension,
leading us to that eternal moment of worship.
The Epiphany season is the church's mission
statement. And as anyone knows who has been
through agonizing sessions trying to craft a perfect
congregational mission statement, every word and
phrase and sentence ends up being of great consequence. So it is with the mission of the church. Epiphany sets out the vision with tremendous care,
each part honed by the Spirit-led experience of centuries, crafted by countless bishops, pastors and saints. We do well to listen carefully, to pray and
worship fervently during this season. Our mission
to this dying world can only be strengthened as we
shape our own lives in the light of God in flesh
made manifest.
Paul Gregory Alms is pastor of Redeemer Lutheran
Church (LCMS), Catawba, NC.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Acts Chapter 29 or Those poor organists
Attributed to Garrison Keillor.
Acts, Chapter 29
1And it came to pass, when Paul was in Corinth, he and certain disciples came upon a mob that was stoning an organist.
2And Paul said unto them, “What then hath he done unto thee that his head should be bruised?”
3And the people cried with one voice, “He hath played too loud!
4Yea, in the singing of the psalms, he maketh our heads to ring as if they were beaten with hammers.
5Behold, he sitteth up high in the loft, and mighty are the pipes and mighty is the noise thereof, and though there be few of us below, he none the less playeth with all the stops, the Assyrian trumpet stop and the stop of the ram’s horn and the stop that soundeth like the sawing of stone, and we cannot hear the words that cometh out of our own mouths.
6He always tosseth in variations that confuse us mightily and he playeth loud and discordant and always in a militant tempo, so that we have not time to breathe as we sing.
7Lo, he is a plague upon the faith and should be chastised.”
8Paul, hearing this, had himself picked up a small stone, and was about to cast it, but he set it down, and bade the organist come forward.
9He was a narrow man, sallow of complexion, with dry skin, flaking and thin of hair.
10And Paul said unto him, “Why hath thou so abused thy brethren?”
11And the organist replied, “I could not hear them singing from where I sat, and therefore played the louder so as to encourage them.”
12And Paul turned round to the mob and said loudly, “Let him who has never played an organ cast the first stone.”
13And they cast stones for a while until their arms were tired and Paul bade the organist repent and he did.
14And Paul said unto him, “Thou shalt take up the flute and play it for thirty days, to cleanse thy spirit.”
15And afterward they returned to Corinth and sang psalms unaccompanied and then had coffee and were refreshed in the faith.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The unlucky Houston Oilers
This video is dedicated to my dear, departed father who gave a large chunk of his Sundays to unhappy viewing of his favorite football team: the Houston Oilers. Here they rank as the fifth most unluckiest NFL team ever. As my dad would say : Luv ya blue, you worthless bunch of idiots!
Watch the video here.
"It's psychosomatic. You need a lobotomy. I'll get a saw."
More Calvin and Hobbes ... one of the funniest strips:
Friday, January 21, 2011
According to Luther, I am a lost cause
It is completely useless to try to change old people.
Large Catechism, Sacrament of the Altar, 86.
Large Catechism, Sacrament of the Altar, 86.
Faith, tradition, sewage meet in the River Jordan
Faith, tradition, sewage meet in the River Jordan
(from here.)
QASR AL-YAHUD, WEST BANK—Some 20,000 pilgrims walked past minefields Tuesday to reach the traditional site of Jesus’s baptism on the Jordan River. They came to wash their faces with the muddy brown water, immerse themselves and even drink the water to mark the date that Jesus began his holy ministry.
The Greek Orthodox Patriarch in Jerusalem, Theophilos III, led a ceremony in which he threw plants into the water and released doves, which symbolize the Holy Spirit.
Qasr al-Yahud is in the Israeli-controlled West Bank and dozens of Israeli flags swayed in the breeze. Just across the river, hundreds of pilgrims congregated on the Jordanian baptism site, visited annually by hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. As the Patriarch approached, bells tolled and they began singing hymns in Greek, which were echoed by the pilgrims on the Israeli side.
The pilgrims came from Orthodox churches around the world, especially Greece, Russia and Ethiopia.
“We are thirsty for faith and tradition,” said Father Jack Nobel Abed, 53, a Greek Catholic priest from the West Bank town of Ramallah. “When you immerse in the Jordan River, you feel the warmth of the Holy Spirit and the internal peace that God gives you.”
Pilgrims came from all over the world. Rahel Gabrusgabi, 24, from Eritrea, carried a lump of clay from the river after she emerged dripping.
“It wasn’t too cold,” she said smiling. “And now I feel pure and light.”
The Jordan River is the official border between Israel and Jordan, two countries that were at war for decades. The site is surrounded by fields that have been mined. Barbed wire and bright yellow signs urge visitors not to wander off the path
Dhyan Or, of Roots for Peace, an organization that promotes de-mining says 500,000 mines have been planted along the border. In the area of the baptism site, there are an estimated 3,000 mines, both anti-tank and anti-personnel mines.
“The Jordanians have completely de-mined their site on the other side,” Or said. “But in Israel it’s not a high priority and there is a lack of political will.”
At the site, thousands of pilgrims filled plastic water bottles with water they believe is holy. Some of them chugged it down right there, others said they were bringing it home for relatives. But environmental groups say the water could be dangerous.
“You actually saw them drink it — oh my God, that’s terrible,” said Gidon Bromberg, the executive director of Friends of the Earth Middle East. “They can get really sick. There’s sewage in the water.”
Friends of the Earth charges that Israel has used the Jordan River as a dumping ground for sewage and other pollutants. Bromberg said his organization commissioned a water survey last week and found 340 fecal coliforms per 100 millilitres of water, indicating the presence of sewage in the water.
There is no universal Israeli standard, although the Ministry of Health recommends that swimming water have no more than 200 fecal coliforms and drinking water have almost none.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Not an insult but a manifestation of his power
They would have it seem unfitting that God, the Son of God, intertwined with the nature of flesh would have been born in a real body of human substance.
In point of fact however, this whole work does not constitute an insult to him but a manifestation of his power. It should not be thought of as defilement, but as glorious condescension ... (Christ) offered purification to the creature ( which it had made in his own image) by becoming associated with it. It did not thereby contract any stain, but healed the wounds of infirmity in such a way as not to allow any compromise of its power.
Leo the Great Sermon 34, p. 187 Fathers of the Church Series-Vol. 97, Leo the Great, Sermons.
In point of fact however, this whole work does not constitute an insult to him but a manifestation of his power. It should not be thought of as defilement, but as glorious condescension ... (Christ) offered purification to the creature ( which it had made in his own image) by becoming associated with it. It did not thereby contract any stain, but healed the wounds of infirmity in such a way as not to allow any compromise of its power.
Leo the Great Sermon 34, p. 187 Fathers of the Church Series-Vol. 97, Leo the Great, Sermons.
Tatar plus Queen equals ...
Tatar, Tartar
a. a member of a Mongoloid people who under Genghis Khan established a vast and powerful state in central Asia from the 13th century until conquered by Russia in 1552
b. a descendant of this people, now scattered throughout Russia but living chiefly in the Tatar Republic
plus
Queen
a British rock band formed in London in 1971, originally consisting of Freddie Mercury (lead vocals, piano), Brian May (guitar, vocals), John Deacon (bass guitar), and Roger Taylor (drums, vocals).
equals
this video, a group of musicians dressed in the traditional clothing of ethnic Tatars, playing authentic Tatar instruments, and singing a cover of "We Are The Champions." In one of the Tatar dialects.
a. a member of a Mongoloid people who under Genghis Khan established a vast and powerful state in central Asia from the 13th century until conquered by Russia in 1552
b. a descendant of this people, now scattered throughout Russia but living chiefly in the Tatar Republic
plus
Queen
a British rock band formed in London in 1971, originally consisting of Freddie Mercury (lead vocals, piano), Brian May (guitar, vocals), John Deacon (bass guitar), and Roger Taylor (drums, vocals).
equals
this video, a group of musicians dressed in the traditional clothing of ethnic Tatars, playing authentic Tatar instruments, and singing a cover of "We Are The Champions." In one of the Tatar dialects.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
One horoscope fits all
A group did a statistical analysis of horoscopes and (surprise, surprise) they are mostly the same. Read about it here. They did a meta horoscope from the most common words and here it is:
Whatever the situation or secret moment, enjoy everything a lot.
Feel able to absolutely care. Expect nothing else. Keep making love
Family and 'friends matter. The world is life, time and energy
Maybe hard. Or easy. Taking exactly enough is best.
Help and talk to others. Change your mind
and a better mood comes along.
So there. You needn't read your 'scope ever again. Just paste this to your computer screen and you are good.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Tours: Language School
Warning : rock and roll post coming :
I came across this obscure single from 1979. What a great power pop single. Apparently, this English band, The Tours, released just two singles and no album, in 1979 and 1980 and then broke up.
Such is rock and roll. One moment of glory that no one notices.
Enjoy the song. I have no idea what the lyrics are about... but who cares.
I came across this obscure single from 1979. What a great power pop single. Apparently, this English band, The Tours, released just two singles and no album, in 1979 and 1980 and then broke up.
Such is rock and roll. One moment of glory that no one notices.
Enjoy the song. I have no idea what the lyrics are about... but who cares.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Retired Lutheran pastors sue church
Retired Lutheran pastors sue church over reduced annuity payments
Four retired Lutheran pastors are suing the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, alleging that the church guaranteed lifetime annuity payments that it later decided to “drastically reduce.”
The pastors were told in September 2009 that their guaranteed retirement payments would be cut 9 percent in 2010, with more cuts in 2011 and 2012.
The plaintiffs are the Rev. Benjamin Johnson of Minnesota; the Rev. Ronald Lundeen and the Rev. Larry Cartford, both of Arizona; and the Rev. Arthur Haimerl of Ohio.
They are not alone.
During the past 21 years, more than 10,000 eligible church employees elected to take their retirement accumulations in a lifetime annuity or a pension, according to court filings.
The pastors’ lawsuit seeks class-action status and hopes to win back full payments for all retirees affected by the cut in annuity payments. The suit was filed in Minnesota state court last month and recently moved to federal court.
The ELCA Board of Pensions, in a message to the Pioneer Press newspaper, said the cuts are the result “of the historic and virtually unprecedented downturn in the investment markets in late 2008 and 2009.”
ELCA, based in Chicago, has more than 10,300 congregations and 4.5 million members.
Four retired Lutheran pastors are suing the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, alleging that the church guaranteed lifetime annuity payments that it later decided to “drastically reduce.”
The pastors were told in September 2009 that their guaranteed retirement payments would be cut 9 percent in 2010, with more cuts in 2011 and 2012.
The plaintiffs are the Rev. Benjamin Johnson of Minnesota; the Rev. Ronald Lundeen and the Rev. Larry Cartford, both of Arizona; and the Rev. Arthur Haimerl of Ohio.
They are not alone.
During the past 21 years, more than 10,000 eligible church employees elected to take their retirement accumulations in a lifetime annuity or a pension, according to court filings.
The pastors’ lawsuit seeks class-action status and hopes to win back full payments for all retirees affected by the cut in annuity payments. The suit was filed in Minnesota state court last month and recently moved to federal court.
The ELCA Board of Pensions, in a message to the Pioneer Press newspaper, said the cuts are the result “of the historic and virtually unprecedented downturn in the investment markets in late 2008 and 2009.”
ELCA, based in Chicago, has more than 10,300 congregations and 4.5 million members.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Denominational colleges losing grip on denominational students.
Generic Christian U. by Bobby Ross Jr. ( From CT ... click here.)
Faith-based universities with historically strong denominational ties—Nazarene, Mennonite, and Southern Baptist schools among them—are enrolling fewer students from within their own ranks.
Paul Corts, president of the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU), said the trend, seen even in institutions with "very strong, close connections" to denominations, is bound to shape future denominational leadership.
For example, at 18 schools associated with the Churches of Christ (non-instrumental), members of associated churches composed 70 percent of first-year students a decade ago. By fall 2009, that figure had dropped to 53 percent, according to a study by the Harding University Center for Church Growth.
The perceived high cost of a Christian education alongside drops in denominational loyalty have contributed to the changing demographics, said Corts and others.
"So many people now think that everything is just a different flavor," said Mike O'Neal, president of Oklahoma Christian University, a Church of Christ school. "If I'm a Methodist, generally I don't care that a university is Nazarene or Calvinist or whatever. The perception is, we're all alike."
At Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, Mennonites represent 45 percent of undergraduates, a decline from previous decades, said president Loren Swartzendruber.
"We know from surveys that a Mennonite student who attends a Mennonite college will be far more likely to be active in a Mennonite congregation as an adult," he said. "Consequently, this trend not only impacts potential leaders but general membership."
Over the past decade, the proportion of Nazarene students at Point Loma Nazarene University has dropped from 30 percent to about 20 percent, said Scott N. Shoemaker, the San Diego school's associate vice president for enrollment.
"The loyal adherence to attending a denominational institution has certainly been diluted through the weakening of historic ties to the church and its clergy," he said.
Union University, a Southern Baptist school in Jackson, Tennessee, has bucked the trend "with intentional outreach to Baptist students," said Rich Grimm, senior vice president for enrollment services. Its entering class is about 65 percent Baptist.
However, Grimm said that by design or not, "There are a number of schools enrolling significantly fewer Baptist students."
Amid heightened competition for students, some universities acknowledge marketing more aggressively outside their denomination. Phil Schubert, president of Abilene Christian University in Texas, said that his school is no less determined to reach out to its Churches of Christ base, "but we're also making a direct appeal to students who [value] our brand of Christian education."
Much of the evidence of the trend remains anecdotal, Corts acknowledged. "I don't know that anyone has done a detailed study on why it's the case," he said. The CCCU might conduct just such a review.
Faith-based universities with historically strong denominational ties—Nazarene, Mennonite, and Southern Baptist schools among them—are enrolling fewer students from within their own ranks.
Paul Corts, president of the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU), said the trend, seen even in institutions with "very strong, close connections" to denominations, is bound to shape future denominational leadership.
For example, at 18 schools associated with the Churches of Christ (non-instrumental), members of associated churches composed 70 percent of first-year students a decade ago. By fall 2009, that figure had dropped to 53 percent, according to a study by the Harding University Center for Church Growth.
The perceived high cost of a Christian education alongside drops in denominational loyalty have contributed to the changing demographics, said Corts and others.
"So many people now think that everything is just a different flavor," said Mike O'Neal, president of Oklahoma Christian University, a Church of Christ school. "If I'm a Methodist, generally I don't care that a university is Nazarene or Calvinist or whatever. The perception is, we're all alike."
At Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, Mennonites represent 45 percent of undergraduates, a decline from previous decades, said president Loren Swartzendruber.
"We know from surveys that a Mennonite student who attends a Mennonite college will be far more likely to be active in a Mennonite congregation as an adult," he said. "Consequently, this trend not only impacts potential leaders but general membership."
Over the past decade, the proportion of Nazarene students at Point Loma Nazarene University has dropped from 30 percent to about 20 percent, said Scott N. Shoemaker, the San Diego school's associate vice president for enrollment.
"The loyal adherence to attending a denominational institution has certainly been diluted through the weakening of historic ties to the church and its clergy," he said.
Union University, a Southern Baptist school in Jackson, Tennessee, has bucked the trend "with intentional outreach to Baptist students," said Rich Grimm, senior vice president for enrollment services. Its entering class is about 65 percent Baptist.
However, Grimm said that by design or not, "There are a number of schools enrolling significantly fewer Baptist students."
Amid heightened competition for students, some universities acknowledge marketing more aggressively outside their denomination. Phil Schubert, president of Abilene Christian University in Texas, said that his school is no less determined to reach out to its Churches of Christ base, "but we're also making a direct appeal to students who [value] our brand of Christian education."
Much of the evidence of the trend remains anecdotal, Corts acknowledged. "I don't know that anyone has done a detailed study on why it's the case," he said. The CCCU might conduct just such a review.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The promise of life versus the experience of death
This is a peculiar doctrine of the church, namely, to know that God is the almighty Creator who creates for this life and and later destroys to make alive for another life. The promise reads, "You must live." But experience conflicts with this. It says "You will die." It is certainly a very serious matter to teach and believe contradictions. Nor is there who perseveres in this faith unless he holds fast to the mind of Christ.
Martin Luther, American Edition Volume 8, 80.
Martin Luther, American Edition Volume 8, 80.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Cling to this verse
Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. John 1:29
Therefore a Christian must cling simply to this verse and let no one rob him of it. For there is no other comfort either in heaven or on earth to fortify us against all attacks and temptations, especially in the agony of death.
Martin Luther, Vol. 22, American Edition, p. 163.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Spoiler alert: Christ did not return in 1988
A writer shares his experience with followers of Harold Camping:
My teenaged years were spent in my father's small Reformed Baptist church in Ohio. We never had thoughts of becoming a mega-church, but we never turned away a new family or two. A sight I remember seeing repeatedly, however, was the tendency for us to suddenly have a caravan of visitors.
There would be nothing for months. Just the regulars would show up. They'd worship on Sunday, fix the roof or cut the grass on Monday, worship on Wednesday, show up for Bible study on Thursday, clean the church on Saturday and repeat.
Then visitors often showed up in groups of three to five families, and there was often a story involved -- a story of being removed from another church. At times, these stories were one of injustice, and in some situations, my father would try to help them heal the rift with their previous churches.
Often, however, it was a case of what I see as a messianic complex. The new arrivals believed they had some truth, the ultimate truth, which would range from a hyper-Calvinistic determinism to a secret knowledge of when the end of the world would come.
We were Reformed, so having some extreme Calvinism enter our doors made sense, but on more than one occasion we had several end-of-the-world prophets. In 1988, the book 88 Reasons Why the Rapture will be in 1988 was in circulation. I remember a very large man with white hair and a trademark white suit leading that call. My father welcomed them to the church, but with a warning -- ultimately unheeded -- not to use their views to divide the community.
Spoiler alert: Christ did not return in 1988. That, however, did not stop new predictions for just about every year after. In the early 90s, another group came to our church, followers of a man named Harold Camping, founder of Family Radio and the author of the book, 1994. (Clever titles are rarely the thing of end of the world prophets.)
They were on the move, looking for a receptive church for Camping's end of the world predictions. Things came to a boiling point. Leadership was being interrupted with absurd interpretations of the Bible during morning services. They emptied their bank accounts to pay for large black billboards across the city. They printed pamphlets and bought 1994 by the cart-load.
Read the rest here.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
The King James Bible at 400
Here is a short essay on the anniversary of the KJV.
Some bits:
Sometime in 1611, a new English Bible was published. It was the work of an almost impossibly learned team of men laboring since 1604 under royal mandate. Their purpose, they wrote, was not to make a new translation of the Bible but “to make a good one better, or out of many good ones, one principal good one.” What was published, 400 years ago, was indeed one principal good one: the King James Version of the Bible.
...
Tyndale’s aspiration was to make his New Testament accessible to “the boy that driveth the plough.”
...
Its words are almost never Latinate, and its rhythms are never hampered by the literalism that afflicts other translations.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
All theology is pastoral theology
Or should be. That is the gist of this excellent essay posted at First Things. The author argues that theology has too often been shunted off to the academy and pastors are not seen as primarily or even remotely involved in the theological task.
This is a serious problem both for theology as an enterprise and for pastors and local congregations. Both are impoverished. As the author says, in the church's history her primary theologians have always been pastors of churches. It is only until the modern period and the advent of rationalism and the Enlightenment that theology sought to recast itself as a primarily an academic discipline. It is first a churchly activity.
This is not to say that theology is not scholarly or academic or intellectual or that somehow we do not need academically trained scholars as professors at seminaries. We do. But we also need pastors who are and see themselves as theologians and are involved in the task of proclaiming and articulating Christian theology.
Here is the essay below. Here is the link to the essay at : First Things.
The Pastor as Wider Theologian, or What’s Wrong With Theology Today
Jan 3, 2011
Gerald Hiestand
Pastors, not professors, should be setting the theological agenda of the church. This is, of course, a loaded statement, and one that requires more nuance than I’ll be able to give it here. But I stand by it nonetheless. As a pastor who cares deeply about theology, I’ve become convinced that the present bifurcation between theological scholarship and pastoral ministry accounts for much of the theological anemia facing the church today.
Robert Jenson, in his Systematic Theology, defines theology as the church’s “continuing discourse about her individuating and carrying communal purpose.” A typically dense Jensonian statement, but one that rightly captures the essence of theology. Theology is “church speak” about the God who calls and constitutes the church and about the message she proclaims. Reflection on this message—its meaning and specific cultural application—constitutes the church’s theology.
What’s more, guardianship of this message is vital to the health of the church. Yet while all Christians are called to guard the apostolic trust, there is an ascending level of theological responsibility within God’s economy. At the most basic level, all Christians are called to draw a circle of theological protection around their own lives. Beyond this, some have been entrusted with a family and are called to draw a larger circle of protection around a spouse and children. Elders and pastors among us are called to draw a still larger circle, encompassing an entire local Christian assembly. And finally, there are those who are tasked with the theological care of large swaths of the Christian tradition, or even the whole of the tradition itself (think Athanasius, Augustine, Thomas, Luther, and Calvin). These we may call, after a fashion, “wider theologians”—theologians who have been tasked with caring for the theological needs of the wider church.
And so we arrive at a pressing question, one that I believe speaks to a significant shortfall in Christian theology: Who should the church call upon to serve as its wider theologians?
Postmodern theology—on the whole—makes too much noise about the effect of social location on theological formation. But one need not drink the entire cup of Derridian Kool-Aid to see that postmodernity has a valid point here. Social location plays a key role in shaping the agenda of one’s theology. And, while perhaps obvious, it must be stated that the social location of pastoral ministry is different than the social location of the academy. Simply put, the questions facing clergy are not always congruent with the questions facing professors. This is not in itself troubling. We need not discount the validity of either set of questions. What is troubling is the fact that nearly all of our theologians have entered the academy, expending the greatest part of their energy answering academic questions. And when academic theologians do get around to addressing ecclesial questions, they tend to do so in academic ways. The chronic “disconnect” between the academy and the church is the inevitable result.
Historically, the church’s most influential theologians were churchmen—pastors, priests, and bishops. Clerics such as Athanasius, Augustine (indeed, nearly all the church Fathers), Anselm, Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Edwards, and Wesley functioned as the wider theologians of their day—shaping not only the theological vision of their own parishes, but that of the wider church. In their day, the pastoral community represented the most influential, most insightful, and most articulate body of theologians.
But since the nineteenth-century (in North America, at least) the center of theological reflection has shifted from the parish to the university. The pastoral community is no longer called upon—as a matter of vocation—to construct theology for those beyond their congregations. Instead, our present context views the academy as the proper home for those with theological gifts. Those with shepherding gifts are directed toward the pastorate. And those who are gifted in both areas? Well, they’ll have to choose. But can this be right? Do we really mean to suggest that the proper home of a theologian is in the academy, disconnected from the pastoral vocation?
The drain of our wider theologians from the pastorate to the academy has resulted in a two-fold problem. First, the theological water-level of our local parishes has dropped considerably. Inasmuch as the pastoral vocation is no longer seen as a theological vocation, pastors no longer bring a strong theological presence to their local parishes. The net effect (particularly in the evangelical tradition in which I reside) is a truncated understanding of theology and its import among the laity. Theology has largely left the local church.
The second part of this problem is perhaps more even troubling. Not only has theology left the church, but the church has left theology. To be sure, many academic theologians view themselves as self-consciously serving the theological needs of the church. But on the whole, academic discourse has lost its way, becoming preoccupied with questions—especially questions regarding its right to exist—that minimize its ecclesial relevance. As Karl Barth noted in his Evangelical Theology,
Theology [given its place in the academy] has taken too many pains to justify its own existence. It has tried too hard, especially in the nineteenth century, to secure for itself at least a small but honorable place in the throne room of general science. This attempt at self-justification has been no help to its own work. The fact is that it has made theology, to a great extent, hesitant and halfhearted.
Of course, Barth’s critique does not hold true for every academic theologian. Barth, himself an academic theologian, writes self-consciously in service to the church. And similar contemporary examples can be found in John Webster, Robert Jenson, Kevin Vanhoozer, R.R. Reno, and David B. Hart, among others. But who will gainsay that theology—on the whole—has taken an unhelpfully academic turn?
Not only has academic theology neglected to focus on the right questions, but it has also lost its ecclesial dialect. The ultimate telos of Christian theology is the edification of the church. And not simply the church in its broad intellectual sense, but the church as comprised of regular people—the widower, the business executive, the married mother. Theological reflection is—if nothing else—our best efforts to preach the content of the divinely spoken Word to such as these in a way that births faith. And though much of a theologian’s project will inevitably remain inaccessible to the laity, all of a theologian’s labors should be pressing toward the pulpit.
But academic theologians do not—as a matter of vocation—have to do draw connections between theology and pulpit. Thus academic theology has become unhelpfully nuanced—a more sophisticated, gentlemanly discourse that can get away with flying at 50,000 feet. It often lacks a bare-fisted, take-no-prisoner, prophetic, pulpit voice. And yet, in reading the work of past wider theologians such as Athanasius and Calvin, one encounters theologians who draw weekly, if not daily, connections between their most profound thoughts and the lives of average people. Pastor-theologians, by means of their vocation, are best positioned to remember the inherent preachy-ness of theology.
Of course, my critique of academic theology is inevitably subjective. Some will not find the situation so dire. But all Christians of good will must agree that the church could use more ecclesially focused theology—theology that is born within an ecclesial context, driven by ecclesial concerns, and prosecuted by ecclesial theologians. We need a theology that moves boldly beyond self-justification, and that answers ecclesial questions in pastorally rich ways.
The ecclesial renewal of Christian theology will not take place apart from a concerted effort to reestablish the pastoral community as the church’s most significant body of theologians. The pastoral community must once again become serious about the duties of the theological task—study, prayer, writing, and theological dialog. The pastoral community as a whole must once again don the mantle of theological responsibility for the wider church.
I am not simply stating that pastors must become more theologically informed, or that pastors much preach with more theological precision. True enough, but this will not solve the problem. Rather, an entire paradigm shift is needed. Pastor-theologians, not academic-theologians, must once again become the leading theological voices of the church. We ask too much of our academic theologians when we ask them to answer—from the outside, as it were—the pastoral questions facing the church.
Ecclesially sensitive academic theologians have much to offer the church; I count them among my most valuable dialog partners. But we pastors must stop outsourcing the entire theological enterprise to the academy. Maintaining the theological integrity of the people of God is a task that has been assigned to the pastors of the church.
Of course, not every pastor must be—or can be—a wider theologian. Indeed, we pastors have neglected the theological calling for so long that the present pastoral community no longer possesses the theological resources necessary for the task. But a reversal is possible. Our hope for the future lies with the emerging generation of theology students.
While some of these students would make poor pastors, many have both intellectual and pastoral gifts. We must stop insisting that pastorally sensitive theologians and theologically sensitive pastors choose between theological scholarship and the church. Theologians not only belong to the church, they also—in the main—belong in the church.
Gerald Hiestand is Senior Associate Pastor of Calvary Memorial Church in Oak Park, Illinois, and executive director of The Society for the Advancement of Ecclesial Theology (SAET)—an organization dedicated to assisting pastors in the production of biblical and theological scholarship for the ecclesial renewal of Christian theology and the theological renewal of the Church.
This is a serious problem both for theology as an enterprise and for pastors and local congregations. Both are impoverished. As the author says, in the church's history her primary theologians have always been pastors of churches. It is only until the modern period and the advent of rationalism and the Enlightenment that theology sought to recast itself as a primarily an academic discipline. It is first a churchly activity.
This is not to say that theology is not scholarly or academic or intellectual or that somehow we do not need academically trained scholars as professors at seminaries. We do. But we also need pastors who are and see themselves as theologians and are involved in the task of proclaiming and articulating Christian theology.
Here is the essay below. Here is the link to the essay at : First Things.
The Pastor as Wider Theologian, or What’s Wrong With Theology Today
Jan 3, 2011
Gerald Hiestand
Pastors, not professors, should be setting the theological agenda of the church. This is, of course, a loaded statement, and one that requires more nuance than I’ll be able to give it here. But I stand by it nonetheless. As a pastor who cares deeply about theology, I’ve become convinced that the present bifurcation between theological scholarship and pastoral ministry accounts for much of the theological anemia facing the church today.
Robert Jenson, in his Systematic Theology, defines theology as the church’s “continuing discourse about her individuating and carrying communal purpose.” A typically dense Jensonian statement, but one that rightly captures the essence of theology. Theology is “church speak” about the God who calls and constitutes the church and about the message she proclaims. Reflection on this message—its meaning and specific cultural application—constitutes the church’s theology.
What’s more, guardianship of this message is vital to the health of the church. Yet while all Christians are called to guard the apostolic trust, there is an ascending level of theological responsibility within God’s economy. At the most basic level, all Christians are called to draw a circle of theological protection around their own lives. Beyond this, some have been entrusted with a family and are called to draw a larger circle of protection around a spouse and children. Elders and pastors among us are called to draw a still larger circle, encompassing an entire local Christian assembly. And finally, there are those who are tasked with the theological care of large swaths of the Christian tradition, or even the whole of the tradition itself (think Athanasius, Augustine, Thomas, Luther, and Calvin). These we may call, after a fashion, “wider theologians”—theologians who have been tasked with caring for the theological needs of the wider church.
And so we arrive at a pressing question, one that I believe speaks to a significant shortfall in Christian theology: Who should the church call upon to serve as its wider theologians?
Postmodern theology—on the whole—makes too much noise about the effect of social location on theological formation. But one need not drink the entire cup of Derridian Kool-Aid to see that postmodernity has a valid point here. Social location plays a key role in shaping the agenda of one’s theology. And, while perhaps obvious, it must be stated that the social location of pastoral ministry is different than the social location of the academy. Simply put, the questions facing clergy are not always congruent with the questions facing professors. This is not in itself troubling. We need not discount the validity of either set of questions. What is troubling is the fact that nearly all of our theologians have entered the academy, expending the greatest part of their energy answering academic questions. And when academic theologians do get around to addressing ecclesial questions, they tend to do so in academic ways. The chronic “disconnect” between the academy and the church is the inevitable result.
Historically, the church’s most influential theologians were churchmen—pastors, priests, and bishops. Clerics such as Athanasius, Augustine (indeed, nearly all the church Fathers), Anselm, Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Edwards, and Wesley functioned as the wider theologians of their day—shaping not only the theological vision of their own parishes, but that of the wider church. In their day, the pastoral community represented the most influential, most insightful, and most articulate body of theologians.
But since the nineteenth-century (in North America, at least) the center of theological reflection has shifted from the parish to the university. The pastoral community is no longer called upon—as a matter of vocation—to construct theology for those beyond their congregations. Instead, our present context views the academy as the proper home for those with theological gifts. Those with shepherding gifts are directed toward the pastorate. And those who are gifted in both areas? Well, they’ll have to choose. But can this be right? Do we really mean to suggest that the proper home of a theologian is in the academy, disconnected from the pastoral vocation?
The drain of our wider theologians from the pastorate to the academy has resulted in a two-fold problem. First, the theological water-level of our local parishes has dropped considerably. Inasmuch as the pastoral vocation is no longer seen as a theological vocation, pastors no longer bring a strong theological presence to their local parishes. The net effect (particularly in the evangelical tradition in which I reside) is a truncated understanding of theology and its import among the laity. Theology has largely left the local church.
The second part of this problem is perhaps more even troubling. Not only has theology left the church, but the church has left theology. To be sure, many academic theologians view themselves as self-consciously serving the theological needs of the church. But on the whole, academic discourse has lost its way, becoming preoccupied with questions—especially questions regarding its right to exist—that minimize its ecclesial relevance. As Karl Barth noted in his Evangelical Theology,
Theology [given its place in the academy] has taken too many pains to justify its own existence. It has tried too hard, especially in the nineteenth century, to secure for itself at least a small but honorable place in the throne room of general science. This attempt at self-justification has been no help to its own work. The fact is that it has made theology, to a great extent, hesitant and halfhearted.
Of course, Barth’s critique does not hold true for every academic theologian. Barth, himself an academic theologian, writes self-consciously in service to the church. And similar contemporary examples can be found in John Webster, Robert Jenson, Kevin Vanhoozer, R.R. Reno, and David B. Hart, among others. But who will gainsay that theology—on the whole—has taken an unhelpfully academic turn?
Not only has academic theology neglected to focus on the right questions, but it has also lost its ecclesial dialect. The ultimate telos of Christian theology is the edification of the church. And not simply the church in its broad intellectual sense, but the church as comprised of regular people—the widower, the business executive, the married mother. Theological reflection is—if nothing else—our best efforts to preach the content of the divinely spoken Word to such as these in a way that births faith. And though much of a theologian’s project will inevitably remain inaccessible to the laity, all of a theologian’s labors should be pressing toward the pulpit.
But academic theologians do not—as a matter of vocation—have to do draw connections between theology and pulpit. Thus academic theology has become unhelpfully nuanced—a more sophisticated, gentlemanly discourse that can get away with flying at 50,000 feet. It often lacks a bare-fisted, take-no-prisoner, prophetic, pulpit voice. And yet, in reading the work of past wider theologians such as Athanasius and Calvin, one encounters theologians who draw weekly, if not daily, connections between their most profound thoughts and the lives of average people. Pastor-theologians, by means of their vocation, are best positioned to remember the inherent preachy-ness of theology.
Of course, my critique of academic theology is inevitably subjective. Some will not find the situation so dire. But all Christians of good will must agree that the church could use more ecclesially focused theology—theology that is born within an ecclesial context, driven by ecclesial concerns, and prosecuted by ecclesial theologians. We need a theology that moves boldly beyond self-justification, and that answers ecclesial questions in pastorally rich ways.
The ecclesial renewal of Christian theology will not take place apart from a concerted effort to reestablish the pastoral community as the church’s most significant body of theologians. The pastoral community must once again become serious about the duties of the theological task—study, prayer, writing, and theological dialog. The pastoral community as a whole must once again don the mantle of theological responsibility for the wider church.
I am not simply stating that pastors must become more theologically informed, or that pastors much preach with more theological precision. True enough, but this will not solve the problem. Rather, an entire paradigm shift is needed. Pastor-theologians, not academic-theologians, must once again become the leading theological voices of the church. We ask too much of our academic theologians when we ask them to answer—from the outside, as it were—the pastoral questions facing the church.
Ecclesially sensitive academic theologians have much to offer the church; I count them among my most valuable dialog partners. But we pastors must stop outsourcing the entire theological enterprise to the academy. Maintaining the theological integrity of the people of God is a task that has been assigned to the pastors of the church.
Of course, not every pastor must be—or can be—a wider theologian. Indeed, we pastors have neglected the theological calling for so long that the present pastoral community no longer possesses the theological resources necessary for the task. But a reversal is possible. Our hope for the future lies with the emerging generation of theology students.
While some of these students would make poor pastors, many have both intellectual and pastoral gifts. We must stop insisting that pastorally sensitive theologians and theologically sensitive pastors choose between theological scholarship and the church. Theologians not only belong to the church, they also—in the main—belong in the church.
Gerald Hiestand is Senior Associate Pastor of Calvary Memorial Church in Oak Park, Illinois, and executive director of The Society for the Advancement of Ecclesial Theology (SAET)—an organization dedicated to assisting pastors in the production of biblical and theological scholarship for the ecclesial renewal of Christian theology and the theological renewal of the Church.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
Rock and Roll as religion
A song I came across which captures pretty well the now old fashioned idea that rock and roll music is worth giving your life to. It is a dangerous and false but intoxicating idea and I must admit on some youthful, naive level it is appealing.
In any event, a pretty good song.
In any event, a pretty good song.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)