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6 August 2015  •  No. 32

Invocation. With haggard hearts each voice / imparts this plea for constancy. / Draw near, dispel confounding fear, / with Heaven’s clemency. / Each tongue, by supplicating lung, / invoke bright morning’s rise! / Through darkest night let love’s Delight / condole all mournful eyes. (Continue reading Ken Sehested’s “Draw Near.” )

Marvel in the stunning visual effect of reflective photography, like the one at right by Arty Ali. A search of “reflective photography” yields a number of sites. My favorite is “One Hundred Remarkable Examples of Reflection Photography.”

Call to worship. Watch James Taylor perform “Shed a Little Light” with the (South Carolina) Low Country Singers, to mark, mourn, transpose and transfigure the massacre at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.

The man who stopped the desert. “Yacouba Sawadogo is an exceptional man—he single-handedly managed to solve a crisis that even scientists and development organizations could not. The simple old farmer’s re-forestation and soil conservation techniques are so effective they’ve helped turn the tide in the fight against the desertification of the harsh lands in northern Burkina Faso.” —Sumitra, “Meet Yacouba Sawadogo—The Man Who Stopped the Desert

Left, photo by Andrea Borgarello/TerrAfrica.

More remarkable news on the lgbt front. Last week the Boy Scouts of America ended its ban on openly gay adult leaders, though the new policy exempts church-sponsored local units, allowing them to maintain the restriction. The move was supported by 79% of the Scouts’ national executive board, composed of 71 civic, corporate and church leaders.
        •In related news: A New Jersey jury found a gay-to-straight conversion therapy organization guilty of consumer fraud in state Superior Court. Three gay men and two parents sued JONAH (Jews Offering New Alternatives for Healing), saying it made gross misrepresentations in the sale and advertisement of its program and that it constituted an unconscionable commercial practice.
        Also related news: The US Equal Employment Opportunity Commission has issued a groundbreaking ruling protecting gays and lesbians from employment discrimination.

Prayer of confession. “When I closed my eyes so I would not see, my Lord did trouble me. When I let things stand that should not be, my Lord did trouble me.” —Susan Werner. Listen to the full song, “Did Trouble Me.” This has become a favorite in our congregation's worship.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombing: 70th anniversary. It’s hard to say precisely how many people died in atomic bombing of Hiroshima (6 August 1945) and Nagasaki (9 August 1945). Each city’s population was uncertain, and the bomb blasts and resulting fires incinerated scores of bodies. The figures most widely used are 60,000-80,000 immediate deaths in Hiroshima, with tens of thousands more dying in the months to follow as a result of serious injuries and radiation poisoning. In Nagasaki, at least 40,000 died instantly, another 10,000-20,000 dying from injuries in the following months. Long-term fatality estimates reach as high as a quarter million.

Keep in mind, though, that the earlier firebombing of Tokyo killed an estimated 100,000 people in one night, the deadliest single bombing raid of the war, including the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

“‘My God, how many did we just kill?’ The day Hiroshima was obliterated 70 years ago, through the eyes of the bomber crew – and the few who survived,” an hour-by-hour account of 6 August 1945 of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, by Jonathan Mayo and Emma Craigie, Daily Mail.

Ranking American military and political leaders’ criticisms of the atomic bombings:
        • “[I]n being the first to use it, we . . . adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages. I was not taught to make war in that fashion, and wars cannot be won by destroying women and children.” —Admiral William D. Leahy, President Truman’s Chief of Staff
        • “The Japanese had, in fact, already sued for peace before the atomic age was announced to the world with the destruction of Hiroshima and before the Russian entry into the war.” —Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet
        • “The first atomic bomb was an unnecessary experiment. . . . It was a mistake to ever drop it. . . . [the scientists] had this toy and they wanted to try it out, so they dropped it.” —Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., Commander U.S. Third Fleet
        • The use of the atomic bomb "was not necessary to bring the war to a successful conclusion. . . ." Rear Admiral L. Lewis Strauss, special assistant to the Secretary of the Navy from 1944 to 1945 (and later chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission)
        •”[H]ad we been willing to wait, the effective naval blockade would, in the course of time, have starved the Japanese into submission through lack of oil, rice, medicines, and other essential materials.” —Ernest J. King, commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet and chief of Naval Operations
        • “General MacArthur definitely is appalled and depressed by this Frankenstein monster [speaking of the atomic bomb]. I had a long talk with him today, necessitated by the impending trip to Okinawa.” —Weldon E. Rhoades, General Douglas MacArthur’s pilot
        • “[W]e didn't need to do it, and we knew we didn't need to do it, and they knew that we knew we didn't need to do it, we used them as an experiment for two atomic bombs.” —Brigadier Gen. Carter W. Clarke, the officer in charge of preparing intercepted Japanese cable summaries in 1945
        • "[I]t wasn't necessary to hit them with that awful thing." —Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe

Post just-war theory. “There are no innocent civilians. It is their government and you are fighting a people, you are not trying to fight an armed force anymore. So it doesn't bother me so much to be killing the so-called innocent bystanders.” —US Air Force General Curtis LeMay, who designed and implemented the massive bombing campaign against cities in Japan.

“Thomas Merton and the Original Child Bomb” is one of a group of what Merton called “anti-poems,” this one spurred by news of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. This site has a link for a 27+ minute audio rendition, beginning with the original news broadcast of the bombing of Hiroshima by President Harry Truman, along with several pieces of music. A remarkable listening experience. Consider using it as a guided meditation.

Left: Atomic bomb-defaced angel sculpture at the Urakami (Roman Catholic) Cathedral, Nagasaki, Japan. The Cathedral, filled with worshipers at the time, was near ground zero.

Censoring film of atomic bomb’s effect. “In the weeks following the atomic attacks on Japan sixty-six years ago this week . . . the United States engaged in the airtight suppression of all film shot in Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the bombings. . . . The public did not see any of the newsreel footage for twenty-five years.
        “’I always had the sense that people in the Atomic Energy Commission were sorry we had dropped the bomb,’ said  Lt. Col. (Ret.) Daniel A. McGovern, who directed the US military film-makers in 1946. ‘I was told by people in the Pentagon that they didn’t want those [film] images out. . . . They didn’t want the general public to know what their weapons had done—at a time they were planning on more bomb tests.’” —Greg Mitchell, “The Great Hiroshima Cover-up: How the US hid shocking footage for decades

Make time for these four brief profiles by Dan Buttry on “Read the Spirit” site: On the Korean slave laborers who were killed in Hiroshima; Japeses painters Iri and Toshi Maruki, who created 15 wall-sized paintings of the Hiroshima aftermath; US Army Air Corps Chaplain George Zabelka, whose parishioners included the crews of Enola Gay and Bock’s Car, the B-29s that dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki; and Sadako Sasaki and the “peace crane” story

Right: "Sadaku and the Thousand Cranes" sculpture by Daryl Smith, Seattle, Washington.

The US has 18 Trident (“Ohio-class”) submarines. Each can launch nuclear missiles with the explosive equivalent 5,000 times the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. After the first sub’s missiles are unleashed, the next 17 simply bounce the rubble.

Other anniversaries:
        • Name that invasion. “A century ago, American troops invaded and occupied a foreign nation. They would stay there for almost two decades, install a client government, impose new laws and fight insurgents in bloody battles on difficult terrain. Thousands of residents perished during what turned out to be 19 years of de facto U.S. rule.” —Ishaan Tharoor, “100 years ago, the U.S. invaded and occupied this country. Can you name it?”
        • Voting rights. 6 August is the 50th anniversary of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, a piece of legislation that literally required the spilling of blood, most notorously on "Bloody Sunday” in Selma, Alabama. The American Civil Liberties Union has a brief “Voting Rights Act” timeline, which concludes with recent state efforts to scale back accessibility to the polls. Significantly, this past Wednesday a federal appeals panel overturned a strict voter identification law in Texas, saying that it discriminated against black and Hispanic voters, violating the ’65 Voting Rights Act.
        • Last month marked the 20th anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre—declared a genocide by the International Court of Justice—when more than 8,000 Muslim Bosnians, mainly men and boys, were killed in and around the town of Srebrenica during the Bosnian War.

Left: “Mothers of Srebrenica prayer” at the Srebrenica Genocide Memorial.

Lection for Sunday next. “Don’t let yourselves get taken in by religious smooth talk. God gets furious with people who are full of religious sales talk but want nothing to do with [the Beloved]. Don’t even hang around people like that.” —Ephesians 5:6-7, The Message

This is what worship is for. “It is not sufficient to discuss the present crisis on the informational level alone, or seek to arouse the public to action by delivering ever more terrifying facts and figures.  Information by itself can increase resistance, deepening the sense of apathy and powerlessness.  We need to help each other process this information on an affective level, if we are to digest it on the cognitive level.” —Joanna Macy, Despair and Empowerment in a Nuclear Age

My favorite piece of musical satire. “No one likes us—I don't know why / We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try / But all around, even our old friends put us down / Let's drop the big one and see what happens.” —Randy Newman, “Political Science

Just for fun: Classical music with a comedic kick. The Salut Salon quartet.

Preach it. “We have grasped the mystery of the atom and rejected the Sermon on the Mount. . . . Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants.  We know more about war than know about peace, more about killing than we know about living.” —General Omar Bradley

Closing hymn. “And finally brethren after while, the battle will be over. For that day when we shall lay down our burdens, and study war no more.” —Moby, “Study War

Benediction by Victor Hugo (at right).

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Featured this week on prayer&politiks:

• “The melody of restful hearts,” a litany for worship inspired by Psalms 46 and 130

• “Draw Near,” a litany for worship inspired by Psalm 130

• “Amnesty,” a litany for worship inspired by Psalm 130

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Language not otherwise indicated above is that of the editor. Don’t let the “copyright” notice keep you from circulating material you find here (and elsewhere in this site). Reprint permission is hereby granted in advance for noncommercial purposes.

Your comments are always welcomed. If you have news, views, notes or quotes to add to the list above, please do. If you like what you read, pass this along to your friends.

 

In praise of the undazed life

A personal recollection about my Dad, marking the anniversary of his birth in 1922

by Ken Sehested

“Why stand ye gazing . . . ?" (Acts 1:11)

       My Dad wasn’t the least bit athletic; nor were others in his family. So we’re not sure where my sporting interest and coordination came from. I played every kind of ball available, whether organized or sandlot ad hoc. (And, last I heard, I still own my high school’s record in the discus throw.

       Dad found a way to stay connected with my love of sport by volunteering as an assistant coach of my Little League baseball team. It required little experience—or skill, for that matter. Only attentiveness. (There’s a lesson in there for us all.) It certainly wasn’t for the glamour.

       The demands of his job meant he arrived late to practice—straight from work in his grease-smudged overalls, having wrestled large diesel engines all day. No one noticed his attire, though, since most of us came from blue-collar homes.

       Our practice field was a baked dirt lot on the edge of a Mexican American neighborhood in our small West Texas town. It would be a few years before African Americans were integrated into our schools and cultural institutions (like Little League baseball). But Chicanos were school-and-playmates from an early age. My earliest Spanish language tutoring involved schoolyard cuss words.

Right: Walking in Dad's boots, circa 1954.

       On the field, two-handed catches were stressed. Anyone failing to do so had to run to the railroad tracks in the distance, through patches of tumbleweed and prickly pear cactus. From time to time foul balls grazed passing autos. Cracked bats were heavily taped and reused.

       Local businesses sponsored different teams in the league, providing bats and balls and game uniforms—though I don’t recall them using our jerseys to advertise. The “Mad Men” ad culture hadn’t yet infected backcountry regions like ours. Moms repaired the occasional uniform tears. Our head coach bought us hotdogs and colas after every game, win or lose.

       We were taking infield practice one afternoon when, from the corner of my eye, I was startled to see Dad sprinting toward the road paralleling our field, yelling “Hey! Hey!” The rest of us stood gazing, frozen in shock—focusing now on a young boy rumpled on the pavement, having fallen from the back of a passing pickup truck. (Pickup bed passengers were a common sight in that era.)

       Whether it was Dad’s yelling, or other pickup passengers, I don’t know; but the driver quickly screeched to a halt.

       Luckily the boy suffered no serious injury, though the pavement took a layer of skin from parts of his face, arms and hands and knees. Likely some lingering frightful memories, too. The whole affair was over as quickly as it began. And we got back to play, nursing dreams of dramatic game-ending catches and big league walk off home runs.

       Even so, to this day when the memory arises, it plays in slow motion: Dad running. Yelling. The rest of us gazing like deer in a headlight daze.

       I want to live undazed like my Dad.

       More than any other, this is the injunction under which I live, sometimes joyfully, sometimes in complaint: drawn back, through and from beatific gaze, toward Jerusalem’s deceit; back toward skinned children; back toward the site of Heaven’s assault on Earth’s duress.

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©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

 

News, views, notes, and quotes

23 July 2015   •   No. 31

Hark, here—aka "the Gerald Angel," in my role as prayer&politiks’ guardian angel.

The usual weekly “Signs of the Times” column will be abbreviated this week and next, to allow Ken to focus on other deadlines.

This week features a batch of new annotated book reviews in the “What are you reading and why?”  section of this site.

Also, this short story:

"In praise of the undazed life:
A personal recollection about my Dad, marking the anniversary of his birth in 1922."

“Why stand ye gazing . . . ?" (Acts 1:11)

My Dad wasn’t the least bit athletic; nor were others in his family. So we’re not sure where my sporting interest and coordination came from. I played every kind of ball available, whether organized or sandlot ad hoc. (And, last I heard, I still own my high school’s record in the discus throw.)

Dad found a way to stay connected with my love of sport by volunteering as an assistant coach of my Little League baseball team. It required little experience—or skill, for that matter. Only attentiveness. (There’s a lesson in there for us all.) It certainly wasn’t for the glamour.

The demands of his job meant he arrived late to practice—straight from work in his grease-smudged overalls, having wrestled large diesel engines all day. No one noticed his attire, though, since most of us came from blue-collar homes.

Our practice field was a baked dirt lot on the edge of a Mexican American neighborhood in our small West Texas town. It would be a few years before African Americans were integrated into our schools and cultural institutions (like Little League baseball). But Chicanos were school-and-playmates from an early age. My earliest Spanish language tutoring involved schoolyard cuss words.

On the field, two-handed catches were stressed. Anyone failing to do so had to run to the railroad tracks in the distance, through patches of tumbleweed and prickly pear cactus. From time to time foul balls grazed passing autos. Cracked bats were heavily taped and reused.

At right: Walking in Dad's steel-toed boots, circa 1954.

Local businesses sponsored different teams in the league, providing bats and balls and game uniforms—though I don’t recall them using our jerseys to advertise. The “Mad Men” ad culture hadn’t yet infected backcountry regions like ours. Moms repaired the occasional uniform tears. Our head coach bought us hotdogs and colas after every game, win or lose.

We were taking infield practice one afternoon when, from the corner of my eye, I was startled to see Dad sprinting toward the road paralleling our field, yelling “Hey! Hey!” The rest of us stood gazing, frozen in shock—focusing now on a young boy rumpled on the pavement, having fallen from the back of a passing pickup truck. (Pickup bed passengers were a common sight in that era.)

Whether it was Dad’s yelling, or other pickup passengers, I don’t know; but the driver quickly screeched to a halt.

Luckily the boy suffered no serious injury, though the pavement took a layer of skin from parts of his face, arms and hands and knees. Likely some lingering frightful memories, too. The whole affair was over as quickly as it began. And we got back to play, nursing dreams of dramatic game-ending catches and big league walk off home runs.

Even so, to this day when the memory arises, it plays in slow motion: Dad running. Yelling. The rest of us gazing like deer in a headlight daze.

I want to live undazed like my Dad.

More than any other, this is the injunction under which I live, sometimes joyfully, sometimes in complaint: drawn back, through and from beatific gaze, toward Jerusalem’s deceit; back toward skinned children; back toward the site of Heaven’s assault on Earth’s duress.

#  #  #

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org

Unveiling Empire: Reading Revelation Then and Now

by Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther (1999), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

The book of Revelation in the Christian canon, interpreted literally, has resulted in bizarre scenarios and fanciful prediction tables.  Conventional interpretation saw it written when the early church was suffering great persecution.  But historical analyses find no evidence for a widespread persecution of Christians in first-century Asia.  “Evidence of both historical documents and the text of Revelation itself suggests that it was seduction by the Roman Empire from within a context of relative comfort that describes the original audience” (p. xxii).  “Revelation is a call to have faith in G-d rather than the empire . . . and is a call to how the disciples were to live in the midst of empire’ (p. xxiii).  “Revelation, like all the other biblical texts, was involved in a pitched battle over issues of spirit such as economics and politics” (p. xxiv).  “The empire itself stood in contradiction to the ways of G-d” (p xxvii).  “Revelation casts a critical eye on Rome’s economic exploitation, its politics of seduction, its violence and its arrogance” (p. 116).  “It was a reminder to the followers of Jesus of the commitment they had made at their baptism” (p. 117).  “The futurist preoccupation with Revelation ignores the verb tenses referring not to a sequential future but to the always co-present other reality in which G-d and the Lamb have already conquered empire” (p 124).  Heaven and earth have the same postal code but represent differing perspectives.  “When the lies and injustices of empire are given currency, there is earth.  Whenever the truth of G-d is believed and practiced, there is heaven” (p 128).

A powerful treatment of the early church’s faith in the face of empire, and a call to that same faith to us.

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Church and State: Lutheran Perspectives

by John Stumme and Robert Tuttle (eds.) (2014), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

        This collection of seven essays examines the nature of religious life in the context of religious pluralism and a post-Theodosian world [the Theodosian dynasty was the last of significance in the Roman Empire], as seen from perspectives of classical Lutheran confessions.  The final three chapters deal with “the legal contexts of church-state interaction,” with reference to issues of religious freedom, education and land use contexts, the latter an area frequently overlooked in issues of church and state relations.

        The first essay, “Lutheran thinking on Church-State Issues” summarizes the Lutheran perspective.  “Lutherans recognize government as one of the "masks" of G-d. Government is one of the divinely instituted orders or structures embedded in creation (p. 7).  (The other three “orders” are family, church and labour.)  “Each (order) is a place where the Christian can legitimately live out his or her vocation….  The gospel does not overthrow these orders but requires that they be kept” (p 8). Anabaptists are given short shrift; they “underestimated the presence of G-d in the world and thus failed to understand the nature and extent of G-d’s creation activity” (p 12).  Well!!

        A historical comment came to mind after reading “the Lutheran view of the state keeps the state within limits” (p 13); interesting that there is no mention of the Bethel and Barmen documents (of 1933 and 1934) and the disputation in Germany that did not keep “the state within its limits.”  While the issues of “religious freedom, education and land use” are key in today’s church-state dialogue, to make no mention of violence embedded in the state through bombing and drones and strategic assassinations is to ignore a crucial contemporary issue. 

        A good book that inexplicably remains silent on issues of peace and armaments. (The Lutheran Peace Fellowship could have been granted at least passing mention.)

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

 

Paul and Empire

by Richard Horsley (ed. 1997), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

“Christianity was product of empire. . . . Paul (established assemblies (ekkleisia) that were alternatives to official assemblies at cities such as Philippi and Corinth. . . . The principal social dimensions of this world that is passing away were overcome in these communities of the nascent alternative society. ‘There is no longer Jew or Greek . . . slave or free . . . male or female; all of you are one in Christ Jesus.’” (p. 1)  Contributors to Horsley’s anthology on the clash between Roman society and Christianity make their points clearly with reference to four major points of conflict between the imperial culture and upstart Christian religion.

The most pointed clashes/conflicts were on the issue of the gospel of imperial salvation, the cultural pattern of patronage, Paul’s counter imperial gospel, and building an alternative society (pp. 1-3).

One:  The imperial gospel (the emperor understood as being god, with shrines, temples and games sponsored in his honour) was countered by Paul’s contention that G-d had highly exalted Jesus Christ so that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Phil. 2:9-11).

Two: The patron social system embodied social relations of dependency.  “Such a hierarchical structure was dramatically opposed to the pattern of horizontal reciprocal social-economic relations” (p. 5).

Three: Paul’s theological formulations (gospel, salvation, cross, faith) stand over against Roman imperial theology (p. 6).  Paul’s message is not directed against Judaism but against “the rulers of this age”.  Paul’s gospel stands counter primarily to the roman imperial order (p. 7) not to the Jewish faith.

Four: Paul did not found a religion called Christianity that broke away from a religion called Judaism.  Paul’s emphasis was that his assemblies (ekkleisia) should be exclusive communities, recruiting from the wider imperial society.  Paul was building an international alternate society (the assembly, the “church”) based in local egalitarian communities (assemblies, “the church”) (p 8).

Each article in the anthology than develops one of these clashes/conflicts/themes.  E.g., the fourth clash clarifies Paul’s attempt at building an international alternative society.  (“I Corinthians: a Case Study of Paul’s Assembly as an Alternative Society”.)  Paul achieves this by avoiding the marketplace of religious competition for the more intensive intervention of small groups in peoples’ homes by encouraging the assemblies to conduct and monitor their own affairs (solving their own legal disagreements internally), withdrawing from some forms of social interaction (no participation in feasts from food offered to idols), behave in different economic patterns (not accepting economic support), and sharing money with the poor, unprecedented in antiquity.  “The network of assemblies had as international political economic dimensions diametrically opposed to the tributary political economics of the empire” (p. 251). 

A wonderful read of the tensions between Paul’s assemblies and Roman expectations.

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Jesus and the Spiral of Violence

by Richard Horsley (1993), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

Horsley summarizes the political and social times of Jesus and Jesus’ reactions to these, especially the role of violence in Palestine during Jesus’ time.  The reality of violence extends well beyond the direct, personal and physical; there is also psychological or spiritual violence, acts that impair other persons’ dignity or integrity. . . . To make (people) live on a subhuman level against their will, to constrain them in such a way that they have no hope of escaping their condition, is an unjust exercise of force (p. 21, 22).  Horsley quotes Dom Helder Camara (Brazilian bishop) ad his three stage ‘spiral of violence’:  injustice, revolt, force to preserve social order (p 23).  Horsley points out the spiral in Rome occupied Palestine as Jesus would have experienced it:  institutionalized injustice (the temple and priesthood), protest and resistance (generally non-violent), repression (use of terror, e.g., crucifixion), revolt (there were three instances of widespread revolt in this period:  4 BCE, 66-70 CE, 132-135 CE).  Key for Jesus to confront this spiral was the concept of the kingdom of G-d, the use of power to liberate, establish or protect the people in difficult historical circumstances (Egypt, Greek occupation)(p 168), focused on the needs and desires of people—the social-economic-political substance of human relations as willed by G-d… provided by G-d, in contrast to the emperor (p. 170).  Jesus emphasized G-d’s sovereignty, “excluding any other lordship and loyalty” (p. 312).  Jesus did not confine his activity to healing, preaching (telling cute little stories) and catalyzing renewal of local community life in rural Galilee (p. 285). The kingdom meant wholeness of life, and the audience was not just few charismatic villagers but the people generally.  For Jesus, pacifism was not a debating exercise or a tactic but the way to live together; he preached G-d’s liberation to a discouraged Jewish peasantry.  “Love your enemies” is not a cute bumper sticker slogan but a “social revolutionary principle, transforming local social-economic relations” (p. 326).

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

How to Read the Bible

by Harvey Cox (2015), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

Cox muses on his personal history of reading the Bible, identifying three stages in his life with the Bible.  The first stage saw the Bible primarily as stories (e.g., the Christmas pageant, daily readings in public schools).  The second stage was the historical-critical, where questions such as the multiple sources of the Pentateuch, or how many Pauline letters had actually been written by Paul, were raised.  The third stage was the spiritual, where Cox was involved with civil rights issues, and saw the bible as a living link in the long history of liberation movements.  The Bible “is an invitation, a living record of an open-ended history of which we can become a part.  It is a still unfinished story” (p. 8).  He quotes Krister Stendahl, who said that the two great questions about any biblical passage are, “What did it mean then?” and “What does it mean now?” (p. 10)  Interesting—this is the basic hermeneutical approach—peshar—of the Jewish community, especially of the Esssenes.  Cox adds a fourth step in biblical reading and interpretation, the “history of interpretation”, which brings in people who studied the Bible at different times and in different circumstances (p. 15).  (This reflects the Anabaptist emphasis on community-based and tested interpretation, and the prayer that the Ephesian congregation “may have the power to comprehend with all the saints” (Ephesians 3:18), what the Apostles’ Creed calls “the communion of saints”.)

Cox then applies these stages of enquiry to the major classifications of biblical material (the Pentateuch, the prophets, the gospels, the epistles, Revelation).

The book is a good read making for a better understanding of the essence of biblical literature.  “My hope,” Cox concludes, that in reading this book “you may come to know both G-d and yourself a little better, since in the end the two cannot be separated” (p. 231).

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

How to Read the Bible and Still be a Christian: Struggling with Divine Violence from Genesis Through Revelation

by John Dominic Crossan (2015), reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

Do we have to deal with a bipolar G-d, a G-d of vengeance and retribution in the Old Testament and a G-d of mercy and love and rehabilitation in the New Testament?  A violent G-d and a non-violent Jesus?  Crossan develops a way to deal with this conundrum.  He takes seriously the full sweep of biblical data.  For example, the Year of Jubilee, Leviticus 25, spells out that the land belongs to G-d and every fiftieth year was to be a Jubilee, a year of liberation, redemption and restoration.   But if this was the understanding of land tenure, why is there so little mention of it in later texts?  E.g., Isaiah 5:8 is a diatribe against expansion of real estate ownership.  Why the move from divine decree to mere suggestion?  Crossan points out the process; ‘there is a struggle between G-d’s radical ideal for us (Lev. 25), which I call the radicality of G-d, and the standard coercive ways that culture in fact operate (Is. 5:8) which I call the normalcy of civilization’ (p 24).

Crossan documents this biblical sequence of acceptance/rejection, assertion/subversion (p. 24), in its views on slavery; the radicality of G-d prompts Paul to ask for Onesimus’ manumission; normalcy of the Roman culture concerning slavery is assumed by Ephesians and Colossians; a vision of the radicality of G-dis put forth, and then later that vision is domesticated and integrated into the normalcy of civilization so that the established order of life, slavery, is maintained.  A powerful hermeneutical methodology, especially as Crossan uses it to overcome ‘escalatory violence’.

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Do We Worship the Same God? Jews, Christians and Moslems in Dialogue

by Miroslav Volf (editor) 2012, reviewed by Vern Ratzlaff

The fundamental question of multi-faith pluralistic society is not so much, ‘Do we have a common G-d?’ as ‘can we live together?’  This anthology of six articles by Christians, Jews and Moslems, explores both question, but places greater emphasis on the second.  Catholic Christopher Schwoebel puts it well.  ‘The goal of history is not that all people will become Christian. . . . In history we continue to live under pluralistic condition and therefore our efforts must be directed at managing the pluralistic situation in the light of faith’s apprehension of G-d’s character and of the human destiny’ (p 15).  This requires a tolerance, not the Enlightenment tolerance based on the uncertainty of religious faith, but toleration based on the certainty of faith.  Become more religious (in touch with our faith) will mean becoming more tolerant.  The corollary of this sense of tolerance is that our interfaith dialogue is not intended to issue in consensus but in gaining a better understanding of our difference (p 16).  The aim of dialogue is not a dogmatic consensus but working at common goals that are justified within each tradition by different goals interpreted from our different perspectives, in which we have to act together for our common good (p. 17).
 

There is fascinating discussion on the nature of Trinitarian thought (e.g., Christian and Moslems agree there is one and only one G-d—polytheism is ruled out, and there is no multiplicity of gods (p. 26).  A Muslim writer cites an event in 631 when a Christian delegation came to Medina to engage in theological discussion.  When they requested to leave the city in order to perform their liturgy, the Prophet invited them to worship according to their rites, with him in his own mosque.  The Prophet showed that ‘disagreement on the plane of dogma can—and should—coexist with spiritual affirmation on the spiritual plane of ultimate reality ‘ (p 104).  Personal relationships are key to true dialogue:  ‘I would not make judgements about others’ worship until I had extended contact with them’ (p. 163).

A great treatment not only clarifying inter-faith dialogue, but also useful for inter-Christian ecumenical conversations.

Vern Ratzlaff is a pastor and professor of historical theology at Lutheran Theological Seminary in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.