We are about to start a new series on “epithets” for Jesus. “Who do you say that I am?,” Jesus asks his disciples (Matthew 16). Which might be a question for us, too. Who is Jesus to you and me? A nice guy who lived his life well? A buddy? A Jewish rabbi? An older brother? A martyr? A prophet? Or, God Himself? We’ll look at all of the names Jesus either gives himself or gets called by all sorts of people, with a view to getting to know Jesus and our own hang-ups about Jesus a little better.
But for starters, I have a question: If you could ask Jesus anything that relates to who he is, what would you ask him? Join the conversation on our Facebook page, “Fellowship of Saints and Sinners.”
Primatology is on my mind today. Why? Because within only a few hours of having met a young woman who studies monkeys for a living, friend Paul Dominiak sent me this cartoon featuring an ersatz David Attenborough on the “Primate Crisis.” (Paul is the chaplain of Trinity College Chapel, Cambridge University and you can find his sermons here: http://www.trinitycollegechapel.blogspot.com/.)
I figure, if we can’t laugh at ourselves and our sacred cows- in this case, the funny, sometimes primitive ways we religious types go about organizing ourselves and resolving disputes within our “shrinking habitat” (as an Attenborough voice-over puts it)- then how will anyone take us seriously? Did I add that this is the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity? Christ, have mercy on us.
This is to invite you to “like” our new official Facebook page and to invite your ideas on a more appropriate profile picture than the goofy one currently up (of me). I’m all ears on ideas- just send your graphics to me at email@example.com. (I’m serious about this!)
My hope is that “Fellowship of Saints and Sinner’s” on FB will provide more of a community in which to share honest questions, gripes, doubts, fears, convictions and just about anything else about God, life, and the stuff in-between. You might say this is an experiment in “virtual” church, and I’m asking you to join me in it. “Virtual church for real people asking real questions about real life and God.” I hope you’ll join the community and the conversation!
The next day as they were leaving Bethany, Jesus was hungry. Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs. Then he said to the tree, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” And his disciples heard him say it…
In the morning, as they went along, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots. Peter remembered and said to Jesus, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree you cursed has withered!” “Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:12-14 and 11:20-25
If the fig tree could sing, I think it might pick the line from the 1980’s Pet Shop Boys hit, featuring Dusty Springfield crooning “What have I done to deserve this?” “What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?” Good question. And it would seem from first glance that the fig tree’s only fault is standing in the way of a hungry Jesus. After all, it isn’t actually the season for full-blown figs. The equivalent might be coming home ravenous to find that the Crockpot hasn’t warmed up to cook the mac n’ cheese- because you forgot to turn it on- so you cuss at the stupid thing for not doing its job.
Strange? I think so. And it is enough to roil the anger of any environmentalist. What is Jesus doing here?
It helps to know that the Old Testament often employs the image of a fig tree to describe the people of Israel and its withering as God’s judgment. So in the book of Micah, for example, God laments that when God comes to Israel looking for “good fruit” to eat, in the way of a life of Spirit-filled rightness with God, God finds none: “What misery is mine!,” God exclaims. “I am like one who gathers summer fruit at the gleaning of the vineyard; there is no cluster of grapes to eat, none of the early figs that I crave. This kind of imagery about barren fig trees proliferates in the Old Testament- and Jesus uses it to tell his own parable about a fig tree that does not produce fruit and is therefore “cut down” (Luke 13:6-9). It also helps to know that fig trees not in season for bearing fruit can still indicate by their leaves, or lack thereof, whether they will bear fruit in season. Chances are, this fig tree was not sporting much in the way of foliage.
It is possible that Jesus like any good teacher, then, is teaching the disciples with a hands-on experiment. The lesson? “If you want to know what happens when God comes back to find nothing in the way of spiritual fruit, fruit like love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, kindness and self-control among those who claim to follow God, this is what happens,” Jesus seems to be saying.
There is a subtle but important difference, though, between condemning a fruitless fig tree to death and causing an otherwise fruitful tree to die. There is undoubtedly foreboding judgment in Jesus’ words here for those of us who belong to the church. God will return to judge God’s people first based on what we have produced in the way of the fruit of the Spirit. But that judgment does not comprise some sort of “double predestination” by which God at the beginning of time dispenses a certain number of “fig trees” and then destines a certain number to wither in hell. God’s judgment is primarily one of truth-telling- it is naming in the light of day and in the fullness of time the life we have chosen to live.
This reality scares me. But it also invites me to recognize that the one doing the judging is also the one who goes to great lengths to help me bear fruit. By sending His Spirit. And promising that we can do many things with faith the size of a mustard seed. And making a world in which new life somehow manages to inch its way in even after death. Even after our own best efforts to do good fail and wither on the vine.
What is most remarkable and life giving is that Jesus goes to the cross knowing full well that he lives in a world where fig trees don’t bear fruit. In fact I suspect He goes to the cross because of that. And when we go there with him, by the power of His Spirit, we, too, can glimpse the first new sprigs and buds of life on the other side.
This concludes our “Weird Jesus Sayings” series. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll keep coming back to visit for our upcoming series on “Jesus Epithets.” You’ll also get to indulge- or grin and bear?- some of my own experimental engagement with feminist theology in an upcoming graduate seminar taught by Emory religion professor, Wendy Farley. All of this and more in the weeks to come! Thanks for walking with me.
In light of yesterday’s spirited discussion on Facebook around women’s leadership issues, sparked by Michael Frost’s re-posting of Mars Hill teaching pastor Mark Driscoll’s very controversial radio interview, I wanted to recommend a wonderful not-so-little (1,100 pages in fact) tome of a book written by Prudence Allen. The book, The Concept of Woman, is actually her second volume of this magnitude: it continues where her first volume left off, in the early humanist period of 1250 through 1500.
Allen is a Catholic nun in Denver, Colorado who teaches young male seminarians preparing for priesthood in the Catholic church. (Don’t you love it? I would love to be a fly on the wall in that classroom.) With a view to building up men and women today in such a way that they are better able to relate to one another with mutual respect, appreciation and understanding, The Concept of Woman traces how “woman” as a category evolved across centuries of philosophical and theological reflection. University of Chicago ethicist Jean Bethke Elshtain has noted of Allen’s work that “there is no work to compare with [Allen’s] in its systematicness, intellectual rigor, and scholarly integrity.”
My own journey through this book, which involves a short snippet every night at the end of a tiring day of mommy work, will probably take at least two years to complete at the rate I’m going. (I am currently making my way through the juicy exclamations of the thirteenth century nun, Hadewijch, whose slightly obsessive love affair with St. Augustine, nine centuries her junior, becomes the stuff of impassioned theological reflection.) But I’m grateful to Allen for undertaking a study of this breadth and fairness, and for the opportunity to commend it to you as part of a very important dialogue.
As I said yesterday to missional church thinker and activist Michael Frost, I believe the issue of women’s leadership is the most important issue facing the missional church today as it seeks to effectively participate in God’s mission all around the world. Where we place stumbling blocks in front of women and their call to serve equally alongside their brothers in being part of the good things God is doing (sometimes in the church and mostly in the world outside our churches), we do not just place obstacles in front of women. We hamper the growth of the missional church in living out her call to serve God in the world around her. I give thanks for Prudence Allen and her faithfulness to embrace God’s call on her life; just as I also give thanks for the many men and women like her (Mark Driscoll included, despite my strong disagreement with him) who have responded to God’s call on their lives.
Laughter is the best tonic for my and my husband’s anger this morning after reading Mark Driscoll’s latest series of blatantly chauvinistic remarks- (if there is a fine line between chauvinism and misogyny, I’m not sure where it is)- about women in leadership. Maybe Driscoll’s remarks, excerpted below from an interview with British radio host Justin Brierley on Brierley’s program, “Unbelievable,” ought not to come as a surprise, in light of Driscoll’s newly released book (see earlier commentary on Real Marriage); but because they present such a big stumbling block to the Good News of God’s love in Jesus Christ for the many women who will read them, I feel compelled to speak out against their message. (“Love Wins,” after all, to quote one of Driscoll’s associates.)
I’m also grateful to FB friend Cliff Haddox for introducing me to Radio Free Babylon’s wickedly funny, sometimes deeply meaningful comic strip, “Coffee with Jesus,” which you can find regular installments of here: http://radiofreebabylon.com/Comics/CoffeeWithJesus.php. If Driscoll were to sit down for coffee with Jesus, I suspect the conversation might look something like the following:
Driscoll: Jesus, I am just a nobody trying to tell everybody about you. What I don’t get is how there are women in the church who would steal that part.
Jesus: Mark, what makes you think that your penis entitles you to be a bigger nobody preaching the Gospel than your wife, Grace, if she feels so led? Or, the woman at the well? Or, any of the many women who have become my friends and have walked with me and told others all about me in the many years since? I have coffee with them, too, you know. Mark, you know I love you, but what makes you think that half of the human race should not be represented in the leadership of my church? Are you living in the Stone Age?
Driscoll: But Jesus, you know that only a male God would impose conscious literal eternal torment on people. If you won’t answer the question, I think I know the answer.
Jesus: Huh?? Let’s save the eternal torment for later. At most it might involve my taking you to the back of the wood shed. For now, how about a hug instead?
For less humor and more indigestion, below is the excerpt in question from Brierley’s interview of Driscoll (or was it Driscoll’s inquisition of Brierley?):
“Much of the interview revolved around Driscoll’s views on women and their role in marriage and the church. When Brierley confessed that his own wife is, in fact, the pastor of his church, things got incredibly awkward:
Driscoll: I’m not shocked by the answer, by the questions you ask. I love you, but you’re annoying. ‘Cause you’re picking on all the same issues that those who are classically evangelical, kind of liberal, kind of feminist do.
Brierley: I think it’s because those are the issues here that people are thinking about. … [Brierley says he’s impressed by much of what Mars Hill Church is doing].
Driscoll: Kay, let me ask you a few hard questions.
Brierley: Go ahead, go ahead.
Driscoll: So, in the church that your wife pastors, how many young men have come to Christ in the last year?
[It’s clear from the tone of Driscoll’s question that this is not a bona fide inquiry about the souls in Brierley’s church. It’s a veiled criticism. Driscoll is going to prove that women pastors can’t get the job done (i.e. attracting men to the church) and he’s going to belittle Brierley’s wife & church to do it.]
Brierley: Well we’re not a huge church, unlike yours, but I’d say there’s two or three probably in the last year who certainly, yah, I’d say have come to Christ in a pretty meaningful way.
Driscoll: Okay and in the church, what percentage is young men, single men?
Brierley: It’s difficult to say off the top of my head, but I’ll freely say it’s certainly not a big percentage, no.
Driscoll: Kay, and are you okay with that? Do you think that’s the best way to go?
Brierley: No, but can it be so easily put down to the fact that the church is being run by a woman? I mean, is that …
Driscoll: Yup. Yup. You look at your results, you look at my results, and you look at the variable that’s most obvious.
[Yes, he did just say that. His results are better than hers. And it’s because he’s a man and she’s a woman.]
Brierley: Well, in our case, the …
Driscoll: This is where the excuses come, not the verses. This is where the excuses come, not the verses.
Brierley: … Up to the point my wife took over, it had been run by men. Since she’s come, lots of new families, lots of younger people, both men and women, have come. I wouldn’t say the balance is right perfect yet by any means. But it’s certainly a lot better than it ever was. And so I don’t necessarily see quite the same situation that you paint there in terms of men not relating. I see more men in the church since she’s been there than before she was there, in a way.
Driscoll: What kind of men? Strong men?
[The implication here is obvious. Only weak, limp-wristed mama’s boys would be attracted to a church with a female leader, right? Tough men like Driscoll certainly wouldn’t be. Brierley seems genuinely baffled by such a stupid question.]
Brierley: Well, men. I mean, men come in different shapes and sizes. I mean, yah, both really. Men who are very masculine, men who are, I guess, on a spectrum, more effeminate. But I couldn’t say that there’s been a sort of dearth of men in the church since she’s arrived. I mean, Mark, I don’t want to get into a sort of argument.
Driscoll: No, no, you don’t want to sit in my seat, I understand. So does your wife do counseling with men? Sexual counseling? Does she talk about masturbation, pornography, the stuff that I do?
Brierley: Well no, she doesn’t.
Driscoll: Well, who does talk to the men about those things, especially the young men?
Brierley: Well there are other people that she can pass them on to. We have male elders in our church who, you know, would be able to tackle those kinds of questions. I mean, but would you speak with those kinds of issues to a female in your church?
Driscoll: Uh no. If they’re a married couple we might meet with them as a couple. But if it’s a woman, we would have women leaders meet with them.
Brierley: Sure, well it’s the same scenario in our church really.
Driscoll: Well except for who’s in charge.
[This part is almost comical. Driscoll seems to think he’s got a real zinger. If a woman is pastor, who’s going to do all that important sex counseling that Driscoll seems so obsessed with? Faced with the rather obvious explanation that it’s the same in Brierley’s church as in his own (men counsel men and women counsel women) Driscoll insists that it’s still not as good because the men aren’t “in charge”.]
Brierley: Well what’s wrong with… I mean, I agree, obviously theologically we’re not on the same page here Mark in terms of…
Driscoll: Do you believe in a conscious literal eternal torment of hell?
Brierley: What has that got to do with the issue of women in leadership, if you don’t mind me asking?
Driscoll: It does. It depends on your view of God. Is God like a mom who just embraces everyone? Or is he like a father who also protects, and defends, and disciplines? If you won’t answer the question, I think I know the answer.”
When today we honor the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., who in 1964 received the Nobel Peace Prize for his heroic and painstaking work as a civil rights activist, I am struck by King’s words on the eve of the Montgomery bus boycott in 1955. At the time, King was a young, relatively unknown Baptist minister who had just been chosen to lead the boycott. In his first speech as the newly dubbed leader of the effort, he said this: “We have no alternative but to protest. For many years we have shown an amazing patience. We have sometimes given our white brothers the feeling that we liked the way we were treated. But we come here tonight to be saved from that patience that makes us patient with anything less than freedom and justice.”
“To be saved from patience that makes us patient with anything less than freedom and justice.” How often do we stop to think that our “salvation” includes deliverance from complacence with all that is wrong with our world? Could this be what it means to “work out our salvation with fear and trembling,” as Paul in Philippians exhorts? I can’t help but think so.
Today’s admonition in the devotional, Today, was to be “peace makers”: “Cosmic peace has been secured by God in Christ (Colossians 1:19-20), yet God tells us to ‘let the peace of Christ rule.'”
When God “breaks into” our world in the person of Jesus Christ, God shows that “peacemaking” is not the same thing as just “keeping the peace.” “Peacemaking,” I suspect, is nothing less than the disruption of our comfort with the status quo wherever “business as usual” fails to reflect the peace that God in Christ has already made with our world. A peace that, if real, is inseparable from justice or freedom.
And yet we remarkably have the freedom to choose whether “to let the peace of Christ rule.” God does not force God’s Self on us: God gives us free wills; but when we decide to be part of the peace that God has made with our world, which sometimes can be as simple as not getting in its way, we have the opportunity to live into a God-given dream. A dream that King not only preached about but died for.
It is easy to die for certain things. We can work ourselves to death by trying to build ourselves a nice retirement nest. We can smoke and drink ourselves to death in the spirit of Christopher Hitchens, who said his two bad habits made him a better writer. We can kill our very selves and who we were meant to be because of others’ expectations. We can die trying to be good. These forms of dying are almost second nature to us. But to die because we truly believe in God’s dream- a dream that all of us will one day be “saved” from the injustices of our world, including our own complacence- how many of us will do that?
Whenever I drive by Ebenezer Baptist Church in downtown Atlanta or, en route to the gym, stroll down the “Walk of Fame” featuring the shoe prints of famous civil rights leaders, I cannot help but marvel at the proximity of King’s story and the deep legacy it leaves. Which is a reminder, among many things, of the costliness of salvation and our invitation to be peacemakers. Happy Birthday, Dr. King. May you always rest in peace.
The below video, titled “Why I Hate Religion But Love Jesus,” has stirred controversy on Youtube by implying that Jesus is opposed to religion. Which begs a question: did Jesus come (at least in part) to abolish religion? If you’re brave, leave your thoughts below. I, for one, think that Jefferson Bethke (the video’s creator and preacher-rapper) is on to something- not dissimilar, I would add, from theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s concept of “religionless Christianity.”
“Jesus said to him, ‘What do you think, Simon? When the kings of the world collect taxes or duties, who do they collect from? From their own families, or from outsiders?’
‘From outsiders,’ he replied.
‘Well then,’ said Jesus, ‘that means the families are free. But we don’t want to give them offense, do we? So why don’t you go down to the sea and cast out a hook? The first fish you catch, open its mouth and you’ll find an coin. Take that and give it to them for the two of us.'” -Matthew 17:25-27
With Tax Day not far around the corner, how’s this for an option? Instead of taking the trouble to fill out all of that annoying paperwork, or paying H&R Block to spare you the pain, just go fishing instead. When you catch your first fish, be it the coy in your next-door neighbor’s backyard pond or that ugly grouper on the open seas, look for a coin or two in the fish’s mouth and send that to Uncle Sam.
Weird. Just plain weird. What could Jesus possibly be talking about here?
For starters, it helps to recognize that Jesus has a deadly sense of humor. He can be very good at dropping cynical, outlandish one-liners, and this is very likely one of those moments. Does it mean that Simon is actually meant to go fishing for the temple tax? Probably not- although if Jesus wanted to make this happen, I am sure he could.
What can safely be concluded from this passage is that Jesus is not a fan of the temple tax, which has become just another way to prop up a corrupt religious system, usually on the backs of the poor. Not long from now we will see him in the temple unleashing his anger. He overturns the tables of the money changers, declaring “my house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers” (Matthew 21:13).
That bumper sticker that reads “Born Free, Taxed to Death”? It’s not too different from the message that Jesus is sending here in his exchange with Simon Peter. Because in Jesus’ time, God’s holy meeting place had turned into the local mall, or worse. Those T.V. evangelists we often see offering healing to the next caller with a working credit card? They were all over the place in the temple, cheaper by the dozen, you might say. And they were sending the message that God’s Love could be purchased for a few extra gold coins.
I suppose this sort of thing makes Jesus of all people especially angry. If he has any idea what is in store for him- and Scripture gives an indication that he does- then he knows the costliness of God’s Love. He is about to demonstrate it on a cross. So Jesus has little time for religious leaders who claim they possess God’s Love by selling it to line their pockets.
Does this righteous anger suggest that Jesus would vote Republican or for politicians who promise lower taxes? Does it imply that he is a card-carrying Tea Party member? Maybe. Maybe not. Chances are that if Jesus were running for office, he would do plenty to infuriate both parties. Chances are that Jesus might not even vote. Who really knows? Because the truth of the matter is that we can’t answer this question from Scripture- and we ought to distrust anybody who claims to know Jesus’ political persuasion (be it Republican, Democrat, Independent, or other) on the basis of Scripture.
What we do know from this passage is that even as Jesus rejects injustice he chooses to pick his battles. Sure, he thinks the temple tax is wrong; but in this case we don’t see him inciting Peter to loud protest. Instead we see Jesus placating his rivals in a bit of a “wink-wink” moment with one of his disciples. His words here signify a coup-d’état of wit, with a view to dying in the ditch (or, in this case on a cross) for his principles later.
Jesus, I suppose, is no soundbyte-fed protester. He is a shrewd strategist with unwavering ideals- the priceless, undomesticated love of God for all human beings being one of them. And he is willing to die for those ideals when the time is right.
If you are still unsure about how to vote, you might try consulting Beliefnet’s “Politic-O-Matic” here: http://www.beliefnet.com/Test/epasch/PoliticOMatic_EricTest.aspx.
“I’m telling you the truth: if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. But this kind only comes out by prayer and fasting.” Matthew 17: 20,21
Jesus’ claim here is weird because it seems so preposterous. If an itty-bitty display of faith on our parts can move a mountain, why is it that so often the “Mt. Everests” in our lives have an annoying habit of standing still, despite our best efforts to believe in God’s healing? The dear friend dying from cancer whose healing we have prayed for over and over again. The broken marriage that we keep pouring our best into with the hope that God will restore it. The homeless person you pray for every day, who is still jiggling their tin can at the local CVS asking for money while high on crack.
When Jesus makes this bold statement, he is responding to his disciples’ unsuccessful attempt to heal a man’s epileptic son. Which is notable in itself because the text tells us that the disciples have already witnessed many displays of divine power in answer to their prayers: when Jesus had sent them out in pairs in the power of the Holy Spirit, they had healed the sick, raised the dead and cast out demons (10: 8)- but here the disciples find themselves in a bind. This child’s condition is a tough nut to crack even for these spiritual heavyweights. Which can leave us feeling a bit inadequate. I mean, if we were at the gym, these guys would be pushing the 200-pound barbells while we would be flexing those wimpy 5-pound dumbbells. Where does this leave us?
The answer, Jesus says, is faith the size of a grain of a mustard seed.
For a long time what has made this passage so difficult is my presumption that Jesus had to be talking literally here. That when he says “I tell you the truth” there is no note of hyperbole in his voice. That he is rattling off a fact like any other, so that he could just as well be talking about today’s weather. Which is a strange inference, really, because there are plenty of places in Scripture where Jesus is clearly using exaggeration to make a point- “it is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God than a camel to enter the eye of a needle” being just one example.
But if Jesus is talking literally here, can our faith really move mountains? Many Egyptian Christians think so. They record the tenth-century story of a Muslim caliph who came to the Christian patriarch, Abba Abraam, asking the very same question we are, only with an accompanying threat to make the skin crawl: if the Patriarch and his Coptic Christian flock could not make the mountain move, their God was false and they would be put to death; and they had three days to come up with an answer. All the Copts fasted and prayed for three days, at the end of which the Patriarch was led in a dream to humble, one-eyed Simon the Tanner, whom God had chosen to move the mountain. Tradition holds that Simon, the Patriarch and their Coptic Christian flock all went out to the mountain with their Muslim interlocutors and prayed, chanted and bowed some forty times; and most remarkably, every time they raised their head in prayer, the mountain moved up, and every time they lowered it, the mountain moved back down again.
This story may be true- as true as stories of manna from heaven and the parting of the Red Sea centuries earlier. But whether or not it is true, and whether or not Jesus is talking literally here, I suppose the point is not so much our faith as it is God’s greatness. Greatness in the fact that even the things that we puny human beings think are totally impossible are of little difficulty to an all-powerful God.
I’ve often heard it said that we human beings use anywhere between 2 and 10 percent of our actual brain capacity. Which always leaves me wondering how I might tap into the other 90 to 98 percent. (Any ideas?) I can’t help but wonder if Jesus is sharing a similar sentiment when it comes to our spiritual life. Maybe the disciples had become smug in thinking that God’s healing depended on their own efforts. Maybe they had begun to doubt that God really was nearer than breath itself, all the while waiting for us to reach out in faith and claim God’s promises. Maybe they had fallen back into living in that 2 percent zone in which God was safely relegated to prayers for parking spaces but couldn’t be appealed to for help with the much bigger stuff.
Yet Jesus here seems to be saying that there is so, so, so much more available to us in the way of God’s healing power. All we need to do is reach out and ask for it- sometimes with our whole being, in prayer and fasting. And in this sense, yes, our faith can move mountains.