By Dr. Jeff Arthurs, PhD
Professor of Preaching & Communication and Dean of the Chapel
Have you seen the film called March of the Penguins? It is a marvelous documentary about the breeding cycle of the penguins of Antarctica. Every year they march 60 or 100 miles into the interior of that continental ice box to mate. You may have noticed that penguins are not built for marching; they waddle and squirm for all those miles. After mating, the male returns to the sea to feed, while the female produces an egg. Then the male returns to care for the egg while the female makes a dash for the coast. Daddy penguin has to hold the egg on his feet, an inch above the deadly frozen ground, and shield it with a flap of belly skin covered with warm feathers. The poor father eats nothing for months, moves no more than a few inches a day because he’s got an egg on his feet, and stands exposed to the worst weather on our planet. Then the egg hatches and the father has to care for the mindless, rambunctious, fragile chick. The weather can kill baby penguin in hours. Finally, momma comes back with a crop full of fish, and the happy family march-waddles to the sea.
So . . . if penguin fathers can be this patient and selfless, can’t I? Here’s a sonnet I wrote, a prayer, asking God to give me the patience of a penguin:
Prayer for Patience in Fathering
Lord of all, if penguins can, can’t I?—
The plodding march, the hunger, pain, and trials.
They shuffle, stand, and shield their juveniles
With only instinct, hope, and feathers dry.
If they can nurture chicks in wind and trackless
Ice with predators, besides the wild
And mindless straying of the hatchlings beguiled
By shape and sound, can’t I? Do I have less
Instinct? Less hope? And surely human brain
Can compensate for flightless feathers. Yet,
I lack the penguin’s patience, just to let
Him molt, mature, and muddle in his vein.
Help me to wait, the penguin emulate;
He knows his role, his place, Your time, time’s state.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
This Is the Day the Lord Has Made: Reflections on Palm Saturday Children’s Program at Christ Church
Dr. John Jefferson Davis, PhD
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” That’s the familiar text from the psalm that I often use as a sentence-prayer and focus for meditation when I am driving in the car, waiting in line, or early in the morning just after waking up. Before this morning, I had customarily used the prayer as a way of thanking God for the new day even if, as is typically the case in New England in early spring, the “day” is a dreary, overcast, cold, and rainy one – This is the day the Lord has chosen to make; might as well rejoice and be glad in it – anyway.
But this Saturday morning a new layer of meaning emerged: about 7:20 am, as I went to the kitchen to make my morning cup of coffee, looking forward to quiet hour or so of undisturbed time reading my Bible and prayer and meditation, I heard the bump-bump-bump sound of my grandchildren’s footsteps coming down the stairways from the upstairs bedroom – looking for grandpa. (They were here for a three-week visit from their home in Sonoma Valley, California.) It suddenly dawned on me that this was the day and the type of morning the Lord had planned for me; I was to have an opportunity to have “morning devotions” and “practicing the presence of God” not through reading biblical texts, but by spending time with my grandchildren Hadley and Lincoln.
My wife Robin asked me, “How would you like to take the kids this morning over to the church for the Palm Saturday children’s program that runs from 9 to 1 – games, crafts, Bible stories, and lunch?” My initial reaction was honestly a bit mixed, as I saw God rearranging my typical expectation of morning “quiet time” devotions. I said, “Sure,” and soon we had arrived at the church for a very busy and more meaningful morning than I could have planned for myself.
Gifts Differing:
We went into the beautiful Christ Church chapel with its lovely stained-glass windows and English country church architecture, and the 35 or so kids – aged 2 to about 7, I suppose – sat more or less quietly on the floor while Betsy Retallack charmed them with songs and choruses on her guitar and bongo drum, after which Andrea Kelly held their attention for an amazing ten minutes with a flannel-graph story about the events of Holy Week. As I saw this I said to myself, “I could never do this – I am so glad that God has gifted these women so clearly for the children’s ministry they are doing.” Jesus had said, “Let the little children come to me, and forbid them not” – but how often do we (male) “ministers” not give serious attention and thought to such ministries aimed at the very young. “How important it is,” I mused, “to give the kids a positive impression of church and the faith when ‘the brick is still soft.’”
Low Tech, High Tech:
By the way, don’t let the reference to “flannel graph” put you off – this “low tech” approach to Bible teaching was more effective than any Powerpoint or video presentation I could imagine. The simple but artistically well-done figures appealed to the children’s imagination in a way that the more “literal” character of other media could not. In the media-saturated and over-stimulated environment in which our children are growing up, sometimes “less is more” and “low tech” can be better than “high tech.” It was a good reminder to be more attentive to the types of technology that we use in the church.
Fly on the Wall:
The program continued in the church hall: craft tables with Palm Sunday “icons” painted on wood; crosses weaved from palm branches; decorated candles for Holy Week; Bible stories from Holy Week acted out – real foot-washing by the kids, for example – snacks, games, and finally lunch. I enjoyed being a “fly on the wall” and grandparent and helper, rather than “seminary professor”. “Jack,” said Jennifer, who was doing the story, could you get me a pan of warm water for the foot washing? This one is a bit too cold for the kids.” “Sure,” I said, and Jack ran off to the kitchen to fetch a pan of water.
So my alternative “morning devotions” continued, but in a different and really more meaningful way that morning. Even as Jennifer retold the familiar story of Jesus’s cry of dereliction from the cross – “My God, my God – Why have you forsaken me” – and said, “For the first time in his life Jesus felt separated from his Father” – that profound statement struck me with new force. “Morning devotions” had “happened” again.
It occurred to me as the morning went on that every seminarian and pastor should take the time to be a “fly on the wall” in his or her own church, observing as a helper or parent every aspect of the life of the church, from the crib nursery to youth group to children’s ministries – from “A to Z”, so to speak. It just might turn out to be more valuable spiritually and professionally in the long run than that morning cup of coffee and “quiet time” that you had planned.
“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice in it.”
Palm Saturday, April 4, 2009
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” That’s the familiar text from the psalm that I often use as a sentence-prayer and focus for meditation when I am driving in the car, waiting in line, or early in the morning just after waking up. Before this morning, I had customarily used the prayer as a way of thanking God for the new day even if, as is typically the case in New England in early spring, the “day” is a dreary, overcast, cold, and rainy one – This is the day the Lord has chosen to make; might as well rejoice and be glad in it – anyway.
But this Saturday morning a new layer of meaning emerged: about 7:20 am, as I went to the kitchen to make my morning cup of coffee, looking forward to quiet hour or so of undisturbed time reading my Bible and prayer and meditation, I heard the bump-bump-bump sound of my grandchildren’s footsteps coming down the stairways from the upstairs bedroom – looking for grandpa. (They were here for a three-week visit from their home in Sonoma Valley, California.) It suddenly dawned on me that this was the day and the type of morning the Lord had planned for me; I was to have an opportunity to have “morning devotions” and “practicing the presence of God” not through reading biblical texts, but by spending time with my grandchildren Hadley and Lincoln.
My wife Robin asked me, “How would you like to take the kids this morning over to the church for the Palm Saturday children’s program that runs from 9 to 1 – games, crafts, Bible stories, and lunch?” My initial reaction was honestly a bit mixed, as I saw God rearranging my typical expectation of morning “quiet time” devotions. I said, “Sure,” and soon we had arrived at the church for a very busy and more meaningful morning than I could have planned for myself.
Gifts Differing:
We went into the beautiful Christ Church chapel with its lovely stained-glass windows and English country church architecture, and the 35 or so kids – aged 2 to about 7, I suppose – sat more or less quietly on the floor while Betsy Retallack charmed them with songs and choruses on her guitar and bongo drum, after which Andrea Kelly held their attention for an amazing ten minutes with a flannel-graph story about the events of Holy Week. As I saw this I said to myself, “I could never do this – I am so glad that God has gifted these women so clearly for the children’s ministry they are doing.” Jesus had said, “Let the little children come to me, and forbid them not” – but how often do we (male) “ministers” not give serious attention and thought to such ministries aimed at the very young. “How important it is,” I mused, “to give the kids a positive impression of church and the faith when ‘the brick is still soft.’”
Low Tech, High Tech:
By the way, don’t let the reference to “flannel graph” put you off – this “low tech” approach to Bible teaching was more effective than any Powerpoint or video presentation I could imagine. The simple but artistically well-done figures appealed to the children’s imagination in a way that the more “literal” character of other media could not. In the media-saturated and over-stimulated environment in which our children are growing up, sometimes “less is more” and “low tech” can be better than “high tech.” It was a good reminder to be more attentive to the types of technology that we use in the church.
Fly on the Wall:
The program continued in the church hall: craft tables with Palm Sunday “icons” painted on wood; crosses weaved from palm branches; decorated candles for Holy Week; Bible stories from Holy Week acted out – real foot-washing by the kids, for example – snacks, games, and finally lunch. I enjoyed being a “fly on the wall” and grandparent and helper, rather than “seminary professor”. “Jack,” said Jennifer, who was doing the story, could you get me a pan of warm water for the foot washing? This one is a bit too cold for the kids.” “Sure,” I said, and Jack ran off to the kitchen to fetch a pan of water.
So my alternative “morning devotions” continued, but in a different and really more meaningful way that morning. Even as Jennifer retold the familiar story of Jesus’s cry of dereliction from the cross – “My God, my God – Why have you forsaken me” – and said, “For the first time in his life Jesus felt separated from his Father” – that profound statement struck me with new force. “Morning devotions” had “happened” again.
It occurred to me as the morning went on that every seminarian and pastor should take the time to be a “fly on the wall” in his or her own church, observing as a helper or parent every aspect of the life of the church, from the crib nursery to youth group to children’s ministries – from “A to Z”, so to speak. It just might turn out to be more valuable spiritually and professionally in the long run than that morning cup of coffee and “quiet time” that you had planned.
“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice in it.”
Palm Saturday, April 4, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Thetis and the Dishes
By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament
Oft of an evening, as I am cleaning up after dinner, my mind turns to Thetis. She was, you may recall, the mother of Achilles who famously dipped her baby into the river Styx in the hopes of rendering him invulnerable to any weapon. She was mostly successful; but, alas, she forgot to re-dip the boy to account for the still dry heel by which she had dunked him. Achilles went on to become the most formidable warrior of the ancient world, but today we remember him more for his heel than his heroism. He was ultimately done in by the ladies’ man Paris, who hid in a bush and shot a poisoned arrow at Achilles’… Achilles Heel.
Which brings us back to the dishes. Whenever I am holding a particularly impure item – say a cutting board with raw chicken or pork on it -- I always remind myself of Thetis: I may scrub my fingers to the bone on 99 percent of the surface area, but if I don’t attend to the bit currently under my thumb, the whole enterprise will be for naught. Our family will be just as vulnerable as poor Achilles: you slice some salami, and salmonella may well come along for the ride. Indeed, at times I wonder whether the whole Thetis-Achilles story first arose in the daydreaming of some mythically-inclined dishwater working away on a Grecian urn.
Now the point of all this is…that there is no point (at least not yet). Thetis and Achilles don’t really have anything to do with my doing the dishes. Now, dishwashing can be a pretty tedious business, so I don’t think anyone will call me to account for mentally riffing on themes in Greek mythology (which would include, now that I think of it, rosy-fingered Dawn – though our Dawn is blue). But neither am I about to walk into a classroom and try to argue that my plate scraping and bowl rinsing holds the key to a central motif in ancient literature.
The real problem – and the real point here – is that we often read the Bible with more or less the same hermeneutical strategy I employ with Thetis and the dishes. The contours of a story, the rhythms of a psalm, the historical exigencies of an epistle – all are quickly tossed aside in the pursuit of “what this means to me”. Scripture reading can degenerate into a spiritual Rorschach test: what matters is not the apparently random blots of ink on the page in front of me, but rather how those blots speak to my all important personal story.
Now, I am hardly against a deeply personal application of the biblical text – provided it an application of the biblical text. When Jesus says we should love our neighbor, I need to go and love my neighbor. Even an ancient story of a bitter prophet complaining that God hasn’t wiped out his enemies according to plan (post-whale Jonah) is meant to inform my understanding of how God regards the world and how I should do so in turn. But we need to respect the people to whom God first made the revelation.
One final image: God in providing us with the Scriptural witness has, as it were, sent us off to explore the rich biology of a vernal pool. But we become so enraptured by our own image reflecting off the surface of the pond that we completely forget about probing the depths beneath.
Wake up, Narcissus.
Associate Professor of New Testament
Oft of an evening, as I am cleaning up after dinner, my mind turns to Thetis. She was, you may recall, the mother of Achilles who famously dipped her baby into the river Styx in the hopes of rendering him invulnerable to any weapon. She was mostly successful; but, alas, she forgot to re-dip the boy to account for the still dry heel by which she had dunked him. Achilles went on to become the most formidable warrior of the ancient world, but today we remember him more for his heel than his heroism. He was ultimately done in by the ladies’ man Paris, who hid in a bush and shot a poisoned arrow at Achilles’… Achilles Heel.
Which brings us back to the dishes. Whenever I am holding a particularly impure item – say a cutting board with raw chicken or pork on it -- I always remind myself of Thetis: I may scrub my fingers to the bone on 99 percent of the surface area, but if I don’t attend to the bit currently under my thumb, the whole enterprise will be for naught. Our family will be just as vulnerable as poor Achilles: you slice some salami, and salmonella may well come along for the ride. Indeed, at times I wonder whether the whole Thetis-Achilles story first arose in the daydreaming of some mythically-inclined dishwater working away on a Grecian urn.
Now the point of all this is…that there is no point (at least not yet). Thetis and Achilles don’t really have anything to do with my doing the dishes. Now, dishwashing can be a pretty tedious business, so I don’t think anyone will call me to account for mentally riffing on themes in Greek mythology (which would include, now that I think of it, rosy-fingered Dawn – though our Dawn is blue). But neither am I about to walk into a classroom and try to argue that my plate scraping and bowl rinsing holds the key to a central motif in ancient literature.
The real problem – and the real point here – is that we often read the Bible with more or less the same hermeneutical strategy I employ with Thetis and the dishes. The contours of a story, the rhythms of a psalm, the historical exigencies of an epistle – all are quickly tossed aside in the pursuit of “what this means to me”. Scripture reading can degenerate into a spiritual Rorschach test: what matters is not the apparently random blots of ink on the page in front of me, but rather how those blots speak to my all important personal story.
Now, I am hardly against a deeply personal application of the biblical text – provided it an application of the biblical text. When Jesus says we should love our neighbor, I need to go and love my neighbor. Even an ancient story of a bitter prophet complaining that God hasn’t wiped out his enemies according to plan (post-whale Jonah) is meant to inform my understanding of how God regards the world and how I should do so in turn. But we need to respect the people to whom God first made the revelation.
One final image: God in providing us with the Scriptural witness has, as it were, sent us off to explore the rich biology of a vernal pool. But we become so enraptured by our own image reflecting off the surface of the pond that we completely forget about probing the depths beneath.
Wake up, Narcissus.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Beware the Theological “Silly Season”
By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament
During the recent presidential campaign there were several references to the political “silly season” – that stage in election campaigning when candidates (or, more frequently, their ) say outrageous things about their opponents in the hopes of spreading fear or misinformation that would move their opponent into a dehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giffensive mode. There is a seasonal silly season, a political silly season and at least a couple of theological silly seasons: the periods before Christmas and Easter. On March 23 I received an email from Time Magazine with a list of the “10 Most Popular Stories of the Week.” The http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifstory on the top of the list? “Scholar Claims Dead Sea Scrolls 'Authors' Never Existed.” This is a pretty silly piece that really has nothing to do with the Christian faith. It is about an Israeli scholar, Rachel Elior (whose views on several issues are , who denies the Essenes (an ancient Jewish sect thought to have produced the Dead Sea Scrolls) ever existed. It can only be for the sake of sensationalism that we are told that the scholar’s theory “has landed like a bombshell in the cloistered world of biblical scholarship.”
Bombshell? Haven’t even heard a firecracker recently, and it’s not because I’m deaf or not listening. The author bases her claim, it seems on the grounds that “the Essenes make no mention of themselves” anywhere in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Not that the authors of the scrolls don’t ever refer to themselves, but they don’t use the term “Essenes” when they do. To the credit of the author of the article, he points out that “James Charlesworth, director of the Dead Sea Scrolls project at Princeton Theological Seminary and an expert on Josephus, says it is not unusual that the word Essenes does not appear in the scrolls. ‘It's a foreign label,’ he tells TIME. ‘When they refer to themselves, it's as “men of holiness” or “sons of light.”’” Professor Elior, for her part, suggests those who disagree with her “should read the Dead Sea Scrolls — all 39 volumes. The proof is there.” But those who disagree happen to be experts on the Dead Sea Scrolls. And one wonders how carefully she has read the scrolls. Has she never noticed that the authors of the scrolls never mention the Pharisees or Sadducees by name either (it seems the former are referred to as “those who seek smooth things” (people who look for easy interpretations to avoid the rigorous teachings of the Law)? Perhaps we should conclude that neither of those groups ever existed either?
While this “bombshell” is supposed to be shaking up our understanding of Judaism in Jesus’s day, it hardly merits serious academic interest, in my opinion. And it really has nothing to do with Jesus or the Christian faith. Nevertheless, the editors embed this link in the middle of the online article: (Read "Is This Jesus's Tomb?"). The article about “Jesus’s tomb” was written at the beginning of Lent last year. That’s right – it was last year’s contribution to the http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftheological silly season. Evidently they are having a hard time coming up with something nearly as sensational and settled on this strange view about the Essenes and the opportunity to embed a link to last year’s sensational story within it.
But the theological silly season is not necessarily over yet. This may just be the first round. We can expect news reports and television shows intended to exploit the heightened interest in Jesus and the resurrection (or the Christian faith in general) by promoting controversial or sensational claims.
As a Christian I guess I have no right to complain. I have my own sensational and controversial claim to highlight at this time of year and I also hope that heightened interest in the subject will win for this outrageous claim the attention it deserves: That Jesus of Nazareth, who died on a Roman cross 2,000 years ago rose from the dead, appeared to many and then was exalted to the right hand of God the Father and that “God has made this Jesus, whom [we] crucified, both Lord and Messiah" (Act 2:36 TNIV). This message is not one that lasts just until the silly season is over, but has changed the course of history and the course of millions of lives through the centuries. It is a message which has withstood the test of time and which brings a renewal of life and hope to people in every season of life.
Associate Professor of New Testament
During the recent presidential campaign there were several references to the political “silly season” – that stage in election campaigning when candidates (or, more frequently, their ) say outrageous things about their opponents in the hopes of spreading fear or misinformation that would move their opponent into a dehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giffensive mode. There is a seasonal silly season, a political silly season and at least a couple of theological silly seasons: the periods before Christmas and Easter. On March 23 I received an email from Time Magazine with a list of the “10 Most Popular Stories of the Week.” The http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifstory on the top of the list? “Scholar Claims Dead Sea Scrolls 'Authors' Never Existed.” This is a pretty silly piece that really has nothing to do with the Christian faith. It is about an Israeli scholar, Rachel Elior (whose views on several issues are , who denies the Essenes (an ancient Jewish sect thought to have produced the Dead Sea Scrolls) ever existed. It can only be for the sake of sensationalism that we are told that the scholar’s theory “has landed like a bombshell in the cloistered world of biblical scholarship.”
Bombshell? Haven’t even heard a firecracker recently, and it’s not because I’m deaf or not listening. The author bases her claim, it seems on the grounds that “the Essenes make no mention of themselves” anywhere in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Not that the authors of the scrolls don’t ever refer to themselves, but they don’t use the term “Essenes” when they do. To the credit of the author of the article, he points out that “James Charlesworth, director of the Dead Sea Scrolls project at Princeton Theological Seminary and an expert on Josephus, says it is not unusual that the word Essenes does not appear in the scrolls. ‘It's a foreign label,’ he tells TIME. ‘When they refer to themselves, it's as “men of holiness” or “sons of light.”’” Professor Elior, for her part, suggests those who disagree with her “should read the Dead Sea Scrolls — all 39 volumes. The proof is there.” But those who disagree happen to be experts on the Dead Sea Scrolls. And one wonders how carefully she has read the scrolls. Has she never noticed that the authors of the scrolls never mention the Pharisees or Sadducees by name either (it seems the former are referred to as “those who seek smooth things” (people who look for easy interpretations to avoid the rigorous teachings of the Law)? Perhaps we should conclude that neither of those groups ever existed either?
While this “bombshell” is supposed to be shaking up our understanding of Judaism in Jesus’s day, it hardly merits serious academic interest, in my opinion. And it really has nothing to do with Jesus or the Christian faith. Nevertheless, the editors embed this link in the middle of the online article: (Read "Is This Jesus's Tomb?"). The article about “Jesus’s tomb” was written at the beginning of Lent last year. That’s right – it was last year’s contribution to the http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftheological silly season. Evidently they are having a hard time coming up with something nearly as sensational and settled on this strange view about the Essenes and the opportunity to embed a link to last year’s sensational story within it.
But the theological silly season is not necessarily over yet. This may just be the first round. We can expect news reports and television shows intended to exploit the heightened interest in Jesus and the resurrection (or the Christian faith in general) by promoting controversial or sensational claims.
As a Christian I guess I have no right to complain. I have my own sensational and controversial claim to highlight at this time of year and I also hope that heightened interest in the subject will win for this outrageous claim the attention it deserves: That Jesus of Nazareth, who died on a Roman cross 2,000 years ago rose from the dead, appeared to many and then was exalted to the right hand of God the Father and that “God has made this Jesus, whom [we] crucified, both Lord and Messiah" (Act 2:36 TNIV). This message is not one that lasts just until the silly season is over, but has changed the course of history and the course of millions of lives through the centuries. It is a message which has withstood the test of time and which brings a renewal of life and hope to people in every season of life.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Lessons from the Deep
By Jeffrey Arthurs
Professor of Preaching & Communication and Dean of the Chapel
Last June I became a swimmer. I’ve been a consistent exerciser for many years—jogging and weights— but on the advice of my wife and chiropractor, I switched to swimming. Eyeing my stature and bulk, my chiropractor commented that brontosauruses spent a lot of time in the water to help bear their weight.
Last February I preached a short series on financial stewardship, and one of my main emphases was generosity. Of course, I meant generosity with money and possessions, but the Lord recently broadened that application for me.
When I swim, I hate sharing a lane. Because I’m as large as a brontosaurus, I don’t fit well with another swimmer in a single lane. My strokes sweep out to fill the whole shebang, so that when the other swimmer passes me, going the opposite direction, I have to time my stroke so that I’m sweeping in, not out. This probably adds a milli-second to my ordeal each time I pass the swimmer. I hate milli-seconds. Furthermore, the other swimmer makes waves, and these jostle me, adding more milli-seconds.
So when I’m in my own lane, happy as a bronto in the primeval ooze, and the pool is full, and a new swimmer enters the pool area, I dread the inevitable. He walks up to me, makes eye contact, and asks if he can share my lane. Of course, I say yes, but my heart throws a little hissy fit.
But it recently hit me—I need to be generous not only with money, but with swimming lanes. I need to have compassion on poor, lowly, downcast, laneless swimmers. I’ve been one myself. I need to welcome eye contact, not avoid it. I need to share out of my bounty. That was Jesus’ way.
What lanes do you need to share?
Professor of Preaching & Communication and Dean of the Chapel
Last June I became a swimmer. I’ve been a consistent exerciser for many years—jogging and weights— but on the advice of my wife and chiropractor, I switched to swimming. Eyeing my stature and bulk, my chiropractor commented that brontosauruses spent a lot of time in the water to help bear their weight.
Last February I preached a short series on financial stewardship, and one of my main emphases was generosity. Of course, I meant generosity with money and possessions, but the Lord recently broadened that application for me.
When I swim, I hate sharing a lane. Because I’m as large as a brontosaurus, I don’t fit well with another swimmer in a single lane. My strokes sweep out to fill the whole shebang, so that when the other swimmer passes me, going the opposite direction, I have to time my stroke so that I’m sweeping in, not out. This probably adds a milli-second to my ordeal each time I pass the swimmer. I hate milli-seconds. Furthermore, the other swimmer makes waves, and these jostle me, adding more milli-seconds.
So when I’m in my own lane, happy as a bronto in the primeval ooze, and the pool is full, and a new swimmer enters the pool area, I dread the inevitable. He walks up to me, makes eye contact, and asks if he can share my lane. Of course, I say yes, but my heart throws a little hissy fit.
But it recently hit me—I need to be generous not only with money, but with swimming lanes. I need to have compassion on poor, lowly, downcast, laneless swimmers. I’ve been one myself. I need to welcome eye contact, not avoid it. I need to share out of my bounty. That was Jesus’ way.
What lanes do you need to share?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Patrick Smith, Palliative Care, and Religious Pluralism
Dr. John Jefferson Davis, PhD
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics
Recently I had the pleasure of chatting with one of our new faculty members, Prof. Patrick Smith, who was in town to teach his weekend course in Cultural Apologetics at our Boston campus. Patrick, who is completing his dissertation at Wayne State University on religious epistemology in the context of religious pluralism, will be on campus on a full-time basis next fall teaching courses in apologetics, philosophy of religion, and systematic theology. Our conversation ranged over a wide range of topics, including natural law theory, the challenge of naturalism to Christian belief, the philosophical implications of the “multiverse” hypothesis, and much more.
I would like to bring to your attention two of Patrick’s recent articles that we discussed, one on medical ethics, and the other on religious pluralism. In the article “Puling the Sheet Back Down: a Response to Battin on the Practice of Terminal Sedation,” to be submitted to the Hastings Center Report, a leading journal of medical ethics, Prof. Smith and his co-author make a crucial clarification of terminology between “palliative sedation” and “terminal sedation”, arguing cogently that “
palliative” (pain relieving) sedation is crucially different in intent than a “terminal” sedation that could be intended to cause the patient’s death, and so constitute an act of physician-assisted suicide or euthanasia. Prof. Smith serves as a medical ethics consultant to the Angela Hospice Care Center in the Detroit area, and will bring to our school additional expertise in the areas of end-of-life treatment and medical ethics.
Patrick’s other article, “The Plurality of Religious Pluralism: Clarifying the Terms,” written for a forthcoming issue of Modern Reformation, makes some very helpful distinctions between three different senses of “religious pluralism”: the sociological fact of religious diversity; the legal sense of freedom of religious belief and practice; and the philosophical and theological belief that “all religions lead to the same God or salvation,” or the like. Smith points out that senses one and two pose no principial threat to Christian faith, but that the third sense must be challenged on the basis of the clear biblical witness to the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the one way of salvation. The article demonstrates the usefulness of the tools of analytical philosophy in clarifying language in the service of Christian faith.
If you are interested in either of these articles, you could email Prof. Smith at psmith@gcts.edu, and ask for a copy. Be sure to welcome Prof. Smith to our campus when you see him in the months ahead.
Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics
Recently I had the pleasure of chatting with one of our new faculty members, Prof. Patrick Smith, who was in town to teach his weekend course in Cultural Apologetics at our Boston campus. Patrick, who is completing his dissertation at Wayne State University on religious epistemology in the context of religious pluralism, will be on campus on a full-time basis next fall teaching courses in apologetics, philosophy of religion, and systematic theology. Our conversation ranged over a wide range of topics, including natural law theory, the challenge of naturalism to Christian belief, the philosophical implications of the “multiverse” hypothesis, and much more.
I would like to bring to your attention two of Patrick’s recent articles that we discussed, one on medical ethics, and the other on religious pluralism. In the article “Puling the Sheet Back Down: a Response to Battin on the Practice of Terminal Sedation,” to be submitted to the Hastings Center Report, a leading journal of medical ethics, Prof. Smith and his co-author make a crucial clarification of terminology between “palliative sedation” and “terminal sedation”, arguing cogently that “
palliative” (pain relieving) sedation is crucially different in intent than a “terminal” sedation that could be intended to cause the patient’s death, and so constitute an act of physician-assisted suicide or euthanasia. Prof. Smith serves as a medical ethics consultant to the Angela Hospice Care Center in the Detroit area, and will bring to our school additional expertise in the areas of end-of-life treatment and medical ethics.
Patrick’s other article, “The Plurality of Religious Pluralism: Clarifying the Terms,” written for a forthcoming issue of Modern Reformation, makes some very helpful distinctions between three different senses of “religious pluralism”: the sociological fact of religious diversity; the legal sense of freedom of religious belief and practice; and the philosophical and theological belief that “all religions lead to the same God or salvation,” or the like. Smith points out that senses one and two pose no principial threat to Christian faith, but that the third sense must be challenged on the basis of the clear biblical witness to the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the one way of salvation. The article demonstrates the usefulness of the tools of analytical philosophy in clarifying language in the service of Christian faith.
If you are interested in either of these articles, you could email Prof. Smith at psmith@gcts.edu, and ask for a copy. Be sure to welcome Prof. Smith to our campus when you see him in the months ahead.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Outsourced Flock
By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament
A few years back, a friend of mine was visiting a church plant in the Midwest. When he asked who was going to do the preaching, he was informed that they were planning on using a video feed of the Senior Pastor’s sermons from the mother church. Similar stories abound: well known preachers broadcast their messages into a variety of locations or “campuses”; eloquent speakers deride the poor preaching in many churches and suggest that videos of more competent communicators ought to replace these pitiable orators; local pastoral preaching is easily supplemented (or replaced) by podcasts of stars from around the country.
“Ah, yes” you may now be saying to yourself, “I can feel it coming: another Gordon-Conwell professorial diatribe against anything innovative in the ministry. Let the tirade begin.” But I am happy to report that your suspicions are unfounded. In fact, I want to ask the question: Why stop with the video pastor?
Let’s say you are able to beam in the very best contemporary evangelical preaching into your church. You are still almost invariably stuck with a very mediocre congregation. All those delectable words are liable to fall into the mouths of theological Philistines unworthy of the repast put before them. Our virtual Pericles is saddled with a motley assortment of crying babies, bored teenagers, distracted parents, and generally lukewarm and befuddled disciples who are likely to forget most of the main points of the sermon before they even leave the sanctuary. Pearls before swine, indeed.
The solution to this problem is obvious: the Video Congregation. What’s good for the pulpit is good for the pew. Rather than relying on the flotsam and jetsam of our towns and neighborhoods to fill up our churches, we can capture on film the best of the contemporary evangelical laity: a flock of bright, attentive, and note-taking sheep culled from the finest pastures of North America. These well scrubbed digital pilgrims will never grow bored or combative or ask embarrassing questions after the service. They will simply sit and soak in the goodness flowing from the virtual pulpit.
Those, of course, are just a few of the benefits accruing to the church willing to ditch the old model of flesh and blood parishioners and ride the wave of the video congregation. Parking issues, like the congregants themselves, become immaterial. Church attendance problems likewise become a thing of the past. For a slightly higher monthly fee, pastor-facilitators could upgrade from the Family Plan (100-200 eager video parishioners) to Thriving Flock level (2 services of 400 people each) or even advance to Excelsior Club status (3,000-5,000 every Sunday). Current (embodied) church members will appreciate the savings in cost (no more need for troublesome tithes and overpaid staff) and time (Sunday am tee times? No longer a problem!).
One final point: how do we find willing and capable video parishioners? I suggest a televised nationwide talent search. We can have a panel of four celebrity Christian judges who will assess the candidates, and then people from around the country can vote for their favorites. It’s a familiar format, and we might even consider paying Fox to take over the name of their hit show– it would certainly fit well with much of the contemporary church landscape:
American Idol.
Associate Professor of New Testament
A few years back, a friend of mine was visiting a church plant in the Midwest. When he asked who was going to do the preaching, he was informed that they were planning on using a video feed of the Senior Pastor’s sermons from the mother church. Similar stories abound: well known preachers broadcast their messages into a variety of locations or “campuses”; eloquent speakers deride the poor preaching in many churches and suggest that videos of more competent communicators ought to replace these pitiable orators; local pastoral preaching is easily supplemented (or replaced) by podcasts of stars from around the country.
“Ah, yes” you may now be saying to yourself, “I can feel it coming: another Gordon-Conwell professorial diatribe against anything innovative in the ministry. Let the tirade begin.” But I am happy to report that your suspicions are unfounded. In fact, I want to ask the question: Why stop with the video pastor?
Let’s say you are able to beam in the very best contemporary evangelical preaching into your church. You are still almost invariably stuck with a very mediocre congregation. All those delectable words are liable to fall into the mouths of theological Philistines unworthy of the repast put before them. Our virtual Pericles is saddled with a motley assortment of crying babies, bored teenagers, distracted parents, and generally lukewarm and befuddled disciples who are likely to forget most of the main points of the sermon before they even leave the sanctuary. Pearls before swine, indeed.
The solution to this problem is obvious: the Video Congregation. What’s good for the pulpit is good for the pew. Rather than relying on the flotsam and jetsam of our towns and neighborhoods to fill up our churches, we can capture on film the best of the contemporary evangelical laity: a flock of bright, attentive, and note-taking sheep culled from the finest pastures of North America. These well scrubbed digital pilgrims will never grow bored or combative or ask embarrassing questions after the service. They will simply sit and soak in the goodness flowing from the virtual pulpit.
Those, of course, are just a few of the benefits accruing to the church willing to ditch the old model of flesh and blood parishioners and ride the wave of the video congregation. Parking issues, like the congregants themselves, become immaterial. Church attendance problems likewise become a thing of the past. For a slightly higher monthly fee, pastor-facilitators could upgrade from the Family Plan (100-200 eager video parishioners) to Thriving Flock level (2 services of 400 people each) or even advance to Excelsior Club status (3,000-5,000 every Sunday). Current (embodied) church members will appreciate the savings in cost (no more need for troublesome tithes and overpaid staff) and time (Sunday am tee times? No longer a problem!).
One final point: how do we find willing and capable video parishioners? I suggest a televised nationwide talent search. We can have a panel of four celebrity Christian judges who will assess the candidates, and then people from around the country can vote for their favorites. It’s a familiar format, and we might even consider paying Fox to take over the name of their hit show– it would certainly fit well with much of the contemporary church landscape:
American Idol.
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