Why Did Jesus Have to Die?
Roman, Jewish, and Christian Perspectives

Click here for an updated and complete version of this series.

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Introduction

As we approach the season of Lent, and then Holy Week and Easter, I propose to consider the question: “Why did Jesus have to die?” At the outset, I must say that this isn’t an easy question to answer for several reasons. Let me mention three.

//www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/files/import/photos/crucifixion-menorca-question-5.jpg First, when it comes to the death of Jesus, we’re dealing with an historical event concerning which we have limited historical sources. We don’t have some of the sources that would make our task much easier, the diary of Pontius Pilate, for example, or notes from the proceedings of the Jewish council that examined Jesus prior to his crucifixion. Therefore, when I try to explain why Pilate or certain Jewish leaders believed that Jesus had to die, I’ll have to extrapolate from the evidence that is available to us. I do believe, however, that this evidence, both in the New Testament Gospels and in other ancient sources, is strong enough to allow us to formulate likely hypotheses concerning Roman and Jewish motivations for the crucifixion of Jesus.

Second, the question of why Jesus was put to death is a matter of considerable scholarly disagreement. For centuries it was common to put all the blame on “the Jews.” But the horror of the Holocaust combined with new historical insights has led scholars in almost completely the opposite direction. Many claim that “the Jews,” even Jewish leaders, had little or nothing to do with the death of Jesus. In my opinion, as you’ll see, the pendulum that had once swung way too far in the direction of “the Jews” has now swung too far back in the opposite “Romans only” direction. I’ll have more to say about this later.

I should add at this point that I am aware of the shameful history of anti-Semitism and the danger of anti-Semitism that is very much alive today. This does make it tricky to deal with the historical evidence in a straightforward way, because if one concludes that some Jews were somewhat responsible for the death of Jesus, this might fuel anti-Semitic attitudes and actions. So, I will say at the outset that nothing in the historical record justifies hatred of or mistreat of Jews, or any other people, for that matter.

Third, there is not one, simple, obvious answer to the question of why Jesus had to die. From a historical point of view, we have to deal with at least two perspectives, Roman and Jewish. In fact, I’ll show that there was more than one Jewish point of view on Jesus’ death. So it is really too simple to speak of “the Jewish perspective” on the necessity of Jesus’ death.

Furthermore, historical explanation doesn’t exhaust the realm of discourse when it comes to the reason for Jesus’ death. We also need to deal with the whole area of theology. We’ll want to know why, in light of his understanding of God, Jesus himself believed that he needed to die. Moreover, we must also examine early Christian thinking concerning why Jesus’ death was necessary for the salvation of the world. In the end, therefore, the answer to the simple question “Why did Jesus have to die?” will be anything but simple. It will have multiple layers and nuances.

Nevertheless, this is a task well worth the effort, both in the writing and in the reading. No matter what you think about Jesus, you will help yourself and your world if you’re able to discuss his death intelligently. This is especially true given the tendency of this conversation to become terribly anti-Semitic. In a world where hatred of Jews is on the increase, all thoughtful, compassionate human beings need to be informed about just who was responsible for the death of Jesus and why.

Finally, if, like me, you believe that the crucifixion of Jesus stands at the very center of history, then knowing why Jesus had to die is just about the most important bit of knowledge you can have.

In my next post I’ll lay out some basic parameters for the rest of this series: how I’m going to structure the series and some of the foundational facts upon which I’ll build the structure.

Where Do We Start When Considering the Death of Jesus? Some Basic Facts

Where should we start in our effort to discover why Jesus had to die? I propose to begin with some basic historical facts, facts that are affirmed by almost every historian and biblical scholar, even those who approach this question from a highly critical and skeptical starting point. So what are these facts:

Jesus was crucified. There were many ways in the first-century for a criminal to be put to death, including stoning, beheading, being torn apart by beasts, etc. Yet all the earliest sources attest to the crucifixion of Jesus. These sources include, in addition to the New Testament writings, the Jewish historian Josephus (Antiquities 18.3.3, A.D. 95) and the Roman historian Tacitus (Annals 15.44, A.D. 109)(Photo: Painting by El Greco, “The Crucifixion,” 1596-1600)Jesus was crucified during the governorship and under the authority of Pontius Pilate. Once again, this basic fact is confirmed in Josephus and Tacitus in addition to the New Testament.

Pilate placed a sign on Jesus’ cross that read “The King of the Jews.” This fact is found in all four New Testament Gospels and in some later non-canonical gospels as well. This “title” helps to explain the nature of the charges against Jesus.

Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem on or near the Jewish feast of Passover. Again, all New Testament Gospels agree on these basic facts, and there is every reason to believe that they are accurate (though the precise timing of Jesus’ death in relationship to Passover is hard to pin down).

These basic facts, though apparently obvious and unspectacular, will actually prove to be very helpful as we try to figure out the reasons for Jesus’ death.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the question “Why did Jesus have to die?” doesn’t have a simple answer. I propose to address this question from four different perspectives:

• Roman: Why did Pontius Pilate think Jesus had to die?• Jewish: Why did some Jewish leaders think Jesus had to die?

• Jesus: Why did Jesus himself think that he had to die?

• Early Christian: Why did early Christians think Jesus had to die?

In my next post I’ll begin with the Roman perspective.

Click here for an updated and complete version of this series.

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective, Part 1

The fact that Jesus was crucified rather than stoned, hanged, or killed in some other way means that the Romans were ultimately responsible for his death. Of course this is clear in the biblical gospels. But even if we lacked such primary sources, the simple fact that a man was crucified in Jerusalem around A.D. 30 implies that, for some reason or other, he was condemned by Roman authorities. Jews in the first-century A.D. didn’t crucify people. This horrible means of execution was the prerogative of the Romans, who used it with chilling effect.

The Roman Practice of Crucifixion

If we want to know why a Roman authority, in this case, the prefect Pontius Pilate, would choose to crucify someone, we might look first at the Roman practice of crucifixion in general. Although Rome didn’t invent this means of execution, the nation perfected it as one of the most horrible means of putting criminals to death. In fact, not all Roman convicts sentenced to death were crucified. Crucifixion was reserved for the lowest of the low, and most of all for those who openly opposed Roman power. Commit a serious crime and Rome might cut off your head; rebel against Roman rule or upset Roman peace and you might be headed to a cross. I say “might be” because Roman citizens were protected from crucifixion, unless they happened to be treasonous soldiers. (Photo: The Via Appia in Rome. When the slave Spartacus led a rebellion against Rome in 73-71 B.C., the Romans finally prevailed. They crucified 6,000 men, stringing them along the Via Appia for 120 miles, from Rome to Capua.)

Why was crucifixion so horrible? For one thing, the victim experienced some of the most extreme pain that a person can experience and the duration of suffering often lasted several days. But, even beyond personal suffering, the crucified person experienced extreme shame in a world that valued honor supremely. Contrary to most portrayals of Jesus’ death, those sentenced to crucifixion were naked when attached to the cross, in full view of the masses.

The Romans made every effort to crucify people in public places, such as along major thoroughfares. The point was to augment the dishonor and suffering of the one being killed, not to mention his family and colleagues. (It seems, by the way, that the Romans did not crucify women.) As the Roman rhetorician Quintilian explained, “Whenever we crucify the guilty, the most crowded roads are chosen, where most people can see and be moved by this fear. For penalties relate not so much to retribution as to their exemplary effect” (Quintilian, Declamations 274). Thus the point of crucifixion was not only punishment, but also deterrence.

Not surprisingly, the Romans crucified Jews when they rebelled against imperial rule. I’ll examine a couple of telling instances in my next post.

The Roman Perspective, Part 2

In my last post I began to examine the Roman practice of crucifixion, arguing that if we want to understand why a Roman governor had Jesus crucified, we should first understand why Rome used crucifixion in general. What we discovered was that crucifixion, in addition to being an extremely horrific punishment of criminals, was thought to be an effective deterrent against sedition. “Watch someone get crucified for challenging our authority,” the Romans believed, “and you’ll be unlikely to challenge our authority yourself.” If you’ve seen The Passion of the Christ, you can certainly understand Roman logic here. Crucifixion was cruel beyond cruel.

Roman Crucifixion Among the Jews

Even the threat of crucifixion didn’t completely squelch attempts to overthrow Roman rule, however, least of all among the Jews. Shortly after the death of Herod the Great in 4 B.C., thousands of Jews sought to toss the Romans out of Judea. Of course the Romans didn’t take kindly to this, sending an army to squash the rebellion. When the rebels fled into the country, the Roman general Varus pursued them. The first-century Jewish historian Josephus describes what happened next:

Upon this, Varus sent a part of his army into the country, to seek out those that had been the authors of the revolt; and when they were discovered, he punished some of them that were most guilty, and some he dismissed: now the number of those that were crucified on this account were two thousand. (Antiquities 17.10.10)

Two thousand rebels crucified at one time! Now that would surely give restless Jews second thoughts before challenging Roman tyranny again. (Photo: The Arch of Titus in Rome, which celebrates the Roman victory over the Jews in A.D. 70.)

Seven decades later, thousands upon thousands of Jews revolted against Roman rule. For a short time they appeared to have prevailed. But, once again, Rome sent a superior military force to Judea. Soon the Jews were trapped in Jerusalem, surrounded by the Roman army besieging the city. Recognizing their hopeless condition, some Jews actually tried to escape, but to no avail. According to Josephus, when they were caught, “they were first whipped, and then tormented with all sorts of tortures before they died, and were then crucified before the wall of the city” (Jewish War, 5.11.1). This happened to at least 500 people daily, according to Josephus. So disgusting was the mass torture of Jewish prisoners that even the Roman General Titus felt pity on them. But he let the brutality continue. Why? Josephus explains: “The main reason why he did not forbid that cruelty was this, that he hoped the Jews might perhaps yield at that sight, out of fear lest they might themselves afterwards be liable to the same cruel treatment” (Jewish War, 5.11.1).

To conclude what we have learned about Romans and crucifixion, Rome reserved crucifixion for the worst of criminals, especially for those who stirred up rebellion against the state. Because the point of crucifixion, beyond punishment, was deterrence, crosses were placed in public places so people would learn to fear the wrath of Rome. When Jews challenged Roman authority, they, like others rebels against Rome, were crucified if caught.

But is this relevant of the case of Jesus? Did Jesus challenge Roman authority such that Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea in the time of Jesus, believed he must be crucified? Does what we have learned about Roman crucifixion help to explain Jesus’ own death? To these questions I’ll turn in my next post.

The Roman Perspective, Part 3

Introduction to Pontius Pilate

If we’re going to understand the Roman perspective on the death of Jesus, we need to know something of the Roman man who was legally responsible for his crucifixion: Pontius Pilate. Traditionally, Pilate has been seen by Christians in relatively positive terms, as one who really didn’t want to crucify Jesus but who did so because he was compelled to by the Jewish leaders and crowds. This image of Pilate, that seems to emerge from the New Testament gospels, doesn’t fit with what we know about Pontius Pilate from historical sources, including the gospels themselves. Let me survey this evidence briefly.

Pontius Pilate was the governor of Judea from 26-37 A.D. An inscription discovered in the ruins of a Roman theater in Caesarea reveals that Pilate’s official Roman title was “prefect” (Latin, praefectus). In this role he was ultimately responsible for all matters in Judea, including judicial and financial affairs. Pilate governed from the provincial capital of Judea, Caesarea (Maratima), a city on the Mediterranean coast, about 75 miles northwest of Jerusalem. He would make the trip to Jerusalem only when necessary. Pilate was accountable to the governor of Syria, through whom he was ultimately subservient to the Roman Emperor. (Photo: This inscription identifies Pontius Pilate as the [Praef]ectus Iuda[eae]).

Pilate does not figure prominently in first-century Roman histories, a fact that suggests that he was a relatively insignificant leader. Moreover, the assignment to govern Judea was no plum, and some of those who served in Pilate’s position were known to complain about it. Not only was it potentially a dead-end job, but also it was fraught with complications.

The complications had largely to do with what the Romans would see as the peculiarities and propensities of the Jews. The peculiarities were, by and large, Jewish religious sensibilities that put them at odds with Roman norms. Jews, for example, did not follow the Roman model in welcoming all sorts of gods into their pantheon. On the contrary, Jews would die for their belief in one and only one God. Jewish propensities had to do with general unrest and fairly regular attempts by some Jews to rebel against Roman rule. When one became prefect of Judea, one could expect trouble.

Pilate’s inability (or unwillingness) to respect Jewish sensibilities is seen in an event recorded by the Jewish historian Josephus (Antiquities 18.3.1). Unlike previous governors, when Pilate took charge, he brought images of Caesar into Jerusalem in order to display them. This enraged the Jewish population, who took this as a violation of their law and as an insult. Multitudes of people traveled to Caesarea in order to ask Pilate to remove the images. At first he refused and, when the petitioners persisted, he was prepared to kill them. But when they showed themselves willing to die rather than have their laws violated, Pilate finally relented. In another instance when he offended Jewish sensibilities, Pilate did not show mercy, and those who protested were slaughtered by soldiers under Pilate’s command (Antiquities, 18.3.2).

The New Testament actually confirms this picture of a cruel Pilate. In Luke 13:1 we read, “At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.” We don’t know anything else about this incident. But it appears that, for some reason, Pilate killed some Galileans who had come to the Jerusalem temple in order to offer sacrifices to God. Yet, not only did Pilate have them killed, he also had their own blood mingled with the blood of the animals they had sacrificed. Talk about adding insult to injury!

The first-century Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria once wrote a letter to Caesar, in which, among other things, he complained about the harshness of Pontius Pilate. Philo blames Pilate explicitly for: “briberies, insults, robberies, outrages, wanton injustices, constantly repeated executions without trial, and ceaseless and grievous cruelty.” (Legatio ad Gaium, 301-302). Even granting Philo’s bias against Pilate, this text doesn’t reflect well upon Pilate’s governorship. In the end, he was removed from office by the Syrian governor, Vitellius, though we don’t know exactly why.

But what about the image of Pilate as the reflective leader who is reticent to kill Jesus, and who even converses with Jesus about the nature of truth? I’ll address this picture in greater detail later. But for now, I’d simply observe that the gospel accounts of Jesus’ trial can be read as confirming the negative image of Pilate.

Pilate’s ultimate responsibility was to oversee Judean affairs, to squash outright rebellion, to keep the tax money flowing to Rome, and, in general, to preserve the fragile peace of the region. And it is this, which, above all, seemed to be at risk when Jesus came to Jerusalem around the feast of Passover. In my next post in this series I’ll examine the peculiar dynamics of Jerusalem in the time of the festival.

The Roman Perspective, Part 4

As I explained in my last post, Pontius Pilate, the prefect of Judea during the time of Jesus, governed his territory from Caesarea, a city on the Mediterranean sea about 75 miles northwest of Jerusalem. Immediate authority over Jerusalem itself he had delegated to Caiaphas, whom Pilate had appointed high priest of the Jewish temple.

Pilate and the Danger of Passover

But, each year during his tenure in Judea, Pilate journeyed to Jerusalem in the spring. He wanted to be in this city during the Jewish celebration of Passover. It’s not that he had any fondness for the Jews and their rituals. Rather, Pilate needed to be in Jerusalem at this time to preserve order. He didn’t trust Caiaphas with such an important task at such a volatile time.

The Passover was, after all, a festival in which Jews remembered how God had delivered them from foreign domination. During the celebration of the Passover meal they not only thanked God for his deliverance in the past, but also prayed for him to do so again. Thus the Passover itself could easily inspire anti-Roman feelings, if not outright rebellion.

Moreover, the population of Jerusalem swelled greatly during the festival. Though it’s difficult to determine precisely the population of Jerusalem during the time of Roman rule, 35,000 wouldn’t be too far off base. During the Passover, however, this number swelled by a figure of ten or more. Josephus reports that 2,000,000 to 3,000,000 people gathered in the city for the festival (Jewish War, 2.14.3, 6.9.3). While most scholars believe that Josephus exaggerated, his estimates testify to the large number of pilgrims who came to Jerusalem for Passover. A more conservative estimate would be in the 300,000-400,000 range. Pilate knew that crowds of Jews jammed together in a small area was a formula for disaster. (Photo: A picture of a crowd in Jerusalem, gathered by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in 1989.)

Given the themes of Passover and the massive temporary population of Jerusalem, it’s easy to see why Pilate felt it necessary to come to the city and why he would have done so with trepidation. Pilate was well aware of the fact that Jerusalem was a powder keg ready to blow during Passover. In fact, Josephus, talking about an earlier ruler who had tyrannized the Jews, mentions that “the nation of the Jews made an insurrection against him at a festival; for at those feasts seditions are generally begun” (Jewish War, 1.4.3, emphasis added).

Pilate didn’t come to Jerusalem unprepared. To help keep the peace, he brought with him a few thousand Roman soldiers from Syria. But, even then, the odds would not be in his favor if the Jews decided to stir up rebellion, since the soldiers were outnumbered by a factor of at least one hundred to one.

Given the tenuous peace of Jerusalem, Pilate must have been greatly distressed by early reports about Jesus’ actions in Jerusalem. This popular prophet from Nazareth had been welcomed into the city by a crowd of his followers who hailed him as a conquering king. Then, Jesus created a ruckus in the Jewish temple, even prohibiting sacrifices from being offered for several hours. So, while Pilate might have smirked to think of the distress this had given Caiaphas, nevertheless he’d be worried. What was Jesus’ agenda? What had he come to Jerusalem to do? Was he seditious? Was he fomenting rebellion against Rome? Pilate’s initial strategy was to watch and wait. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be lucky, and the Passover would conclude without incident. Then Jesus would go back to Galilee where he came from, and Pilate would return to Caesarea, where he could govern Judea a safe distance away from the time bomb of Jerusalem.

Pilate’s hopes for an uneventful Passover were dashed when, early on Friday morning, the problem posed by Jesus of Nazareth exploded in his face. In my next post, I’ll examine more closely Pilate’s interaction with Jesus and his accusers.

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective, Part 5

In my last two posts in this series on the death of Jesus, I offered a picture of Pontius Pilate and described the unique dangers he faced in Jerusalem during the Jewish celebration of Passover. In light of this background, today I’ll examine the biblical account of Pilate’s interaction with Jewish leaders.

Pilate’s Encounter with Jesus and the Jewish Leaders

Early on Friday morning, after Jesus of Nazareth had entered Jerusalem, Pontius Pilate was awakened by a group of Jewish leaders who had brought Jesus to him with the intention of having Jesus crucified. They accused Jesus of “perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king” (Luke 23:2). When Pilate questioned Jesus, the accused was strangely quiet. Finally the governor cut to the chase. “Are you the king of the Jews?” he asked. “You say so,” was all Jesus said in reply (Luke 23:3). When Pilate mentioned to the Jewish leaders that their charges against Jesus weren’t persuasive, they added, “He stirs up the people by teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to this place” (Luke 23:5). It’s likely that this was not news to Pilate, who had probably been following the unusual exploits of Jesus for some time. Roman governors kept an eye out for Jewish prophets who announced the coming of God’s kingdom. (Photo: Mihály Munkácsy, Christ in front of Pilate, 1881.)

Once the Jewish leaders had brought Jesus to Pilate, the question of his fate lay in the governor’s hands. Certainly he could follow the recommendation of the leaders, including the high priest, Caiaphas, whom he had appointed. But killing Jesus had a considerable downside. Pilate was surely aware of Jesus’ popularity among the people. He might even have known before Friday that the Jewish leaders were trying to do away with Jesus, but were reticent to do so because he was so popular with the people. Killing Jesus might well have incited the people to riot (Mark 14:2), something neither the Jewish officials nor Pilate would have wanted. If Pilate were perceived by the people as the one responsible for the death of their popular prophet, then he might end up causing a ruckus or even a revolt that could very well lead to his own downfall.

Yet Pilate would surely have preferred to get Jesus out of the way somehow. Though he was not seditious in the ordinary sense – Jesus carried no weapons, organized no army, and had not assaulted any Roman authorities – nevertheless the Nazarene was clearly a rabble-rouser from Pilate’s point of view. And even if he didn’t explicitly espouse the overthrow of Rome, he certainly flirted with the seditious language of kingship.

Two other factors contributed to Pilate’s reticence to execute Jesus. First, his interaction with Jesus convinced him that the Galilean was no ordinary insurrectionist. It’s hard to reconstruct from the Gospel accounts exactly what Pilate thought of Jesus. If he truly believed him to be innocent and no threat to Rome, then it’s unlikely that he would have had Jesus crucified. But, Pilate must have seen that Jesus was in a completely different league from the others he had crucified. (Of course I’m aware that Christian tradition paints Pilate as a truth-seeker who genuinely believes in Jesus’ innocence. But this image doesn’t fit what we know about Pilate from history, not to mention the indisputable fact that Pilate himself was, in the end, responsible for Jesus’ death. It’s very hard to imagine that Pilate was bullied, either by Jewish leaders or by the mob, into doing something that he really didn’t want to do. I believe that many of the statements in the gospels that seem to reflect the “noble Pilate” were in fact originally spoken by the governor in order to incite the Jews to accept greater responsibility for Jesus’ death, thus exonerating Pilate in the eyes of the people. Or, in other cases, I believe Pilate’s tone was ironic or sarcastic. When he asked Jesus, “What is truth?” Pilate wasn’t beginning a philosophical dialogue, but simply mocking Jesus, who had just spoken of “belonging to the truth” (John 18:37-38).

The second factor that contributed to Pilate’s reticence to execute Jesus was a recommendation from his wife that he should “have nothing to do with” Jesus. Pilate’s wife claimed to have “suffered a great deal because of a dream about him” (Matthew 27:19). Pilate, like most pagans, was in all likelihood quite superstitious, and his wife’s nightmare would have spooked him as well.

From Pilate’s perspective, what would have been the best outcome of this whole mess? Somehow get Jesus to stop causing trouble, but without inciting the people to riot. If silencing Jesus required his death, then so be it, but let it be someone else’s fault other than Pilate’s. If Jesus could be shut down by some other means – like flogging – then this would also be an acceptable option.

In my next post I’ll finish explaining the necessity of Jesus’ death from the Roman perspective of Pontius Pilate.

The Roman Perspective, Part 6

In my last post I began to describe Pontius Pilate’s predicament on the Friday morning after Jesus had entered Jerusalem. The problematic prophet had been brought to Pilate by several Jewish leaders who demanded that he be crucified. But, for reasons I outlined previously, Pilate was reticent. Most of all, he didn’t want to incite the crowds who had gathered in Jerusalem for Passover. Silencing Jesus was a fine idea, but, from Pilate’s perspective, it had to be done in a why that protected him from the wrath of the Jewish people.

Pilate’s Decision to Have Jesus Crucified

Pilate tried passing the buck. He told the Jewish leaders to judge Jesus themselves, but they averred that they couldn’t execute him (John 18:31-32). He said, perhaps sarcastically, that they should go ahead and crucify him themselves (John 19:6-7), even though Pilate knew that crucifixion was legal only under Roman authority. At one point during the “trial” of Jesus, Pilate tried to pass the buck to Herod Antipas, who, as Tetrarch over Galilee, had the legal right to put Jesus to death. But Herod didn’t grab the bait. Instead, he used his meeting with Jesus as an occasion to mock him (Luke 23:6-12). (Photo: Nicolaes Maes, “Christ Before Pilate,” c. 1670.)

When the responsibility for Jesus’ fate fell back upon Pilate’s shoulders, he preferred to take the course of least resistance: have Jesus flogged, which would surely silence him for a while, and which, Pilate hoped, would keep the people from going on a rampage. But many of the Jewish leaders, combined with a mob that gathered outside of Pilate’s headquarters, pressed for Jesus’ crucifixion. Three factors seemed to have persuaded Pilate that executing Jesus was the best course of action. First, his reticence to kill Jesus appeared to put his loyalty to the emperor in doubt (John 19:12). Even the slightest appearance of imperial disloyalty could have terminal implications for Pilate. Second, the Jews who had gathered in his courtyard, although a tiny percentage of the current population of Jerusalem, were fervent enough in their desire for Jesus’ death that Pilate believed he could convincingly lay the blame on them. Third, his reticence to crucify Jesus was itself starting to cause a riot, which was the very thing Pilate was attempting to avoid by not executing Jesus (Matt 27:24). So his primary motivation for keeping Jesus alive – maintenance of order – was no longer valid. Jesus had to die.

In sentencing Jesus to death, Pilate revealed himself to be devious, if not spineless. He sent Jesus to the cross. The responsibility for this decision was his – at least from a legal-historical point of view. Yet when announcing Jesus’ fate, Pilate tried to avoid taking responsibility for his action. Symbolically washing his hands in front of the crowd, he said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood” (Matthew 27:24). Of course this wasn’t true. No matter now much others might have urged Pilate to take Jesus’ life, in the end, he and he alone had the authority to make that fateful decision.

The fact that Pilate had Jesus crucified strongly suggests that he saw Jesus as a threat to Roman order. Though not your ordinary brigand or revolutionary, Jesus proclaimed the kingdom of God (not Caesar) and accepted adulation as a messianic (kingly) figure. Moreover, even if his answers to Pilate were minimal, Jesus didn’t reject the charge that he claimed to be king of the Jews. So, even though Jesus wasn’t your run-of-the-mill Zealot, he was still the sort of person who was dangerous to Rome, and was therefore worthy of death, at least from the Roman point of view.

Pilate’s legal justification for crucifying Jesus appeared on the sign attached to Jesus’ cross: “The King of the Jews.” The wording and placement of this sign tells us much about Pilate’s ultimate motivation for killing Jesus. On the one hand, Jesus was being crucified because he dared to make a claim to kingship. On the other, by identifying the crucified Jesus as “King of the Jews,” Pilate was mocking Jesus, the Jewish people, and their kingdom aspirations – all in one ironic statement. In a manner consistent with what we know about Pilate from other sources, he was saying, “Here you go, you Jews. Here is your king – beaten to a pulp, powerless, a victim of superior Roman power.” Furthermore, by crucifying Jesus, Pilate also held him up as a persuasive deterrent: “Next time you think about having someone other than Caesar as your king, remember the crucifixion of Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective: Conclusion

From a Roman perspective, why did Jesus have to die?

•   Because he disturbed Roman order.
•   Because he spoke seditiously of a coming kingdom other than that of Caesar.
•   Because he allowed himself to be called “King of the Jews.”
•   Because he made a nuisance of himself at the wrong time (Passover), in the wrong
place (Jerusalem), in the presence of the wrong people (Pilate and the temple
leadership under his command).
•   Because his crucifixion would be a powerful deterrent that might keep other Jews from
following in his footsteps.

In my next post I’ll begin to look at the death of Jesus from one Jewish perspective.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 1

Placing This Conversation in Context

Before I proceed to discuss one Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death, I must say a bit about the contemporary context for this conversation. For centuries, many Christians hated Jews. Part of the Christians’ justification for their hatred was their belief that “the Jews killed Christ.” Even though Jesus himself had called his followers to love their enemies, somehow the belief that “the Jews killed Christ” justified a very un-Christ-like hatred of all Jews. This sort of twisted reasoning contributed to the unspeakable horror of the Holocaust, in which over six million Jews were murdered by the Nazis.

The ugly history of anti-Semitism makes it difficult to talk objectively about Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus. If one suggests that some Jews were in some way responsible for Jesus’ death, this person runs the risk of being labeled anti-Semitic. When I was in graduate school, I was encouraged to ask all sorts of creative and critical questions about early Christian history. But when it came to the death of Jesus, there was an unspoken rule that prohibited even discussing the possibility of some Jewish responsibility for the death of Jesus. The party line was that the Romans killed Jesus for their own reasons and that the early Christians made up the parts of the passion narrative that implicate Jews. The Christians did so, we were told, partly because they weren’t getting along with Jews during the latter half of the first-century A.D., and partly because they wanted to improve their relationship with the Roman Empire. This theory – filled with more holes than Swiss cheese – was something my colleagues and I were not welcome to examine critically. It was simply off limits. The painful history of anti-Semitism required that the history of early Christianity be told in a certain way, whether it actually happened that way or not. (Photo: Anti-Semitic graffiti in Lithuania in 2005.)

Therefore, before I discuss Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus, I must say three things quite clearly:

1. Anti-Semitism is wrong. From a Christian perspective, it is a sin. No matter who was actually responsible for the death of Jesus, there is no excuse for anti-Semitism. It’s something that Christians and all sensible people should oppose.

2. Even if “the Jews” were completely responsible for Jesus’ death (which I’ve already shown to be false, given the involvement of Pontius Pilate), this would in no way justify anti-Semitism today.

3. Even if a Christian considered “the Jews” to be his or her enemies, that Christian would be compelled by the very words of Jesus to love the Jews, not to hate them.

4. Anti-Semitism is alive and well today (or, alive and sick, perhaps). All moral people, including Christians, should reject and oppose it. Anti-Semitism is morally wrong, unjustifiable, and unchristian.

As you can infer from this introduction, I am going to argue that some Jews were involved in the crucifixion of Jesus, and that they believed that Jesus had to die. But, I think it’s historically incorrect to speak of “The Jewish Perspective” on the necessity of Jesus’ death. If we wish to be accurate, we must talk in terms of “One Jewish Perspective” on the question: “Why did Jesus have to die?” I’ll explain what I mean in my next post.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 2

Why “One” Jewish Perspective?

As a young Christian, I had a clear picture of what happened to Jesus in the last week of his life. This picture resulted from my knowledge of the Gospels, and, to a great extent, from images I had seen in Sunday School booklets and filmstrips. My mind had been impressed with scenes of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, of his “trial” before Pilate, and of his being assaulted by Jewish leaders. These images led me to believe that Jerusalem in the time of Jesus was a relatively small town inhabited by a relatively small number of Jews, and that the same Jews who had welcomed Jesus into town as a king on Sunday had turned against him on Friday. From my juvenile viewpoint, “the Jews” of Jerusalem had, as a single group, both hailed Jesus and then condemned him. Since only a few close disciples supported Jesus until the bitter end, it would have seemed appropriate to me to speak of “the” Jewish perspective on why Jesus had to die. (Photo: Jesus on Palm Sunday in a classic film version of his life. For the other side of the story, check out this video from Vintage 21 Church.)

I no longer believe that my youthful picture of Jesus’ last week was historically accurate, though I do believe that the New Testament Gospels provide historically reliable viewpoints on what really happened that week. For one thing, the actual scale of life in Jerusalem was far greater than anything I had imagined. As I explained earlier in this series, it’s likely that the normal population of Jerusalem in the time of Jesus was around 35,000. But during the festival of Passover the population swelled to eight or ten times that number, perhaps even more.

This means, among other things, that a tiny percentage of the overall population of Jerusalem actually welcomed Jesus into the city on Palm Sunday or called for his crucifixion early on Good Friday. Since scholars cannot agree on the precise location of Pilate’s headquarters, we cannot say definitively how many people might have gathered in his courtyard to call for Jesus’ death. This number is probably less than 500, possibly quite a bit less. What this means, therefore, is that something like .2% of the Jews in Jerusalem were demonstrably eager to have Jesus crucified.

But, one might object, perhaps this tiny percentage represented the majority. This objection is unlikely for three reasons:

First, we know from the Gospels that Jesus was, for the most part, very popular among the masses (for example, Matt 4:25; 8:1; 9:8; 12:15; 13:2; 14:14; 15:30; 20:29; 21:8).Second, we also know that the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem who wanted to have Jesus killed hesitated precisely because Jesus was so popular among the masses there (Matt 21:46). Nothing in the Gospel records suggests that this popularity ended magically by Good Friday.

Third, in fact the Gospel records suggest that large numbers of Jews were deeply distressed by the death of Jesus. For example, as Jesus was walking along the Via Dolorosa, Luke tells us that “A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him” (Luke 23:27). Then, after Jesus was crucified, the crowds who “saw what had taken place, . . . returned home, beating their breasts” (Luke 24:48). In other words, vast numbers of Jews were horrified by the death of Jesus.

Thus it’s historically accurate to speak, not of “the” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death, but of several diverse Jewish perspectives. It’s quite likely that the majority of Jews in Jerusalem did not want Jesus killed at all. But the perspective that had greatest impact on the fate of Jesus was that of Caiaphas and other principal leaders of Jerusalem. This is the “one” perspective I’ll begin to examine in my next post.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 3

The Perspective of Jewish Leaders in Jerusalem

Although the majority of Jews in Jerusalem may not have wanted Jesus to die, or may have had no opinion either way, some of the most influential Jews did see Jesus’ death as necessary. All four New Testament Gospels testify to the key role of the “chief priests” and other Jewish leaders in the effort to have Jesus crucified. The chief priests included the high priest Caiaphas, who was appointed by Pilate, and other priests who provided leadership, not only for the temple, but also for all religious and civic affairs in Jerusalem. Some other learned and powerful Jewish leaders joined with the chief priests in the effort to silence Jesus once and for all.

Although not providing specific names or titles, the first-century Jewish historian Josephus concurs with what we find in the New Testament. In his Jewish Antiquities, Josephus devotes a short section to the antics of Pontius Pilate. In this context the historian writes that Pilate, “at the suggestion of the principal men amongst us,” had Jesus “condemned to the cross” (Antiquities 18.3.3). Unfortunately Josephus does not explain why these “principal men,” presumably the chief priests and other leaders, had it in for Jesus.

Why did leading Jews in Jerusalem believe it was necessary for Jesus to die? Part of the answer to this question comes from the Gospel of John, in a scene where a group of Jewish leaders was debating the problem of Jesus’ problematic popularity. “If we let him go on like this,” they said, “everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation” (John 11:48). Jesus was stirring up the people with his message of God’s kingdom and with his mighty deeds, and he wasn’t the first to walk down this perilous road. Others had done so before him and the result hadn’t been good for the Jews. Inevitably the Romans swept into Judea with their armies, slaughtering some, crucifying others, and taking still others into slavery. They had no hesitation about destroying an entire city if only some its residents had challenged Roman authority. So it would be logical for Jewish leaders to fear that Jesus might indeed bring down Roman wrath upon both the temple and the nation. (Photo: The ruins of a theatre in Sepphoris in Galilee. Shortly after Jesus was born, a man named Judas led a makeshift militia in a successful assault against the royal palace. Of course Rome didn’t wink at Judas and his gang. Ultimately the Roman army recaptured Sepphoris, taking all of its residents as slaves and burning the city to the ground. (See my book Jesus Revealed, p. 104)

Ruins of the coliseum at Sepphoris

In the midst of this debate about the problem of Jesus, John records the counsel of the high priest, Caiaphas: “You know nothing at all! You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed” (John 11:50). Since Caiaphas did not believe that Jesus fit the job description of God’s messiah, and since he shared with his colleagues the fear of Roman reprisals against the Jews, his argument made sense. Better that Jesus should die than the whole nation be destroyed.

When Caiaphas and his cohort finally captured Jesus and brought him to Pilate so that he might be crucified, their accusations touched upon several ways he was endangering the Jewish people. “We found this man perverting our nation,” they said, “forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king” (Luke 23:2). When Pilate was underwhelmed, they added, “He stirs up the people by teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to this place” (Luke 23:5). In other words, Jesus was both undermining orderly Roman rule (forbidding taxes, claiming to be king, stirring up the people) and seducing the Jewish people to abandon their religious commitments (keeping the Sabbath, offering sacrifices in the temple, separating themselves from “sinners”).

Although we Christians may want to argue that these accusations were false, it’s easy to see how, from the perspective of the Jewish leaders, they appeared to be true, dangerously true. Moreover, we find in Jewish sources basic confirmation of what Luke puts upon the lips of the leaders. In the Babylonian Talmud (a fifth-century collection of earlier Jewish oral traditions), we read the following:

There is a tradition: They hanged Yeshu on the Sabbath of the Passover. But for forty days before that a herald went in front of him (crying), “Yeshu is to be stoned because he practiced sorcery and seduced Israel and led them astray from God”. (b. Sanhedrin 43a)

Although the details don’t fit perfectly with the New Testament accounts, the charges against Jesus confirm what we have already seen. Jesus was said to “practice sorcery,” which is how his miracles would have appeared to his opponents, and which explains his ability to arouse the people. He also “seduced Israel and led them astray from God.” How similar this is to the charges in Luke 23, where Jesus was said to have perverted the nation and stirred up the people.

The concerns of Jewish leaders and their desire to get rid of him would probably not have come to fruition except for something Jesus did to provoke their concerted effort to have him crucified. I’ll examine this action in my next post.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 4

The “Crime” of Jesus

My last post in this series focused on the reasons why some Jewish leaders in Jerusalem believed that it was necessary for Jesus to die. The bottom line? He was a threat to their conception of faith and national life, indeed, to the very existence of the Jewish people. If left unchecked, Jesus would either pervert the Jewish nation with his peculiar notions of the kingdom of God, or he would bring down the wrath of Rome upon Judea, leading to its destruction. Either way, Jesus needed to be taken out of the game – permanently.

The concerns of the Jewish leaders, however pressing they might have been, would probably not have been enough to bring about Jesus’ execution except for something Jesus himself did, something shocking, unexpected, and utterly unacceptable from the perspective of the Jewish leaders. I’m speaking of his activity in the temple, that which Christians call “the cleansing of the temple.” Here’s Mark’s account of this scandalous action:

Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.” (Mark 11:15-17)

How did the Jewish leaders respond to Jesus’ action? “And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him” (Mark 11:18).

Why was Jesus’ behavior in the temple worthy of death?

First of all, he was suggesting that the current state of the temple was unacceptable and that the temple leadership – the chief priests – were unworthy of respect. They were like a bunch of robbers.

Model of the temple in Jerusalem. Photo with permission of holylandphotos.org.

Second, Jesus actually prohibited the crucial function of the temple: the offering of sacrifices. From the point of view of the priests, he was keeping the Jewish people from worshipping God in the way God had prescribed – a serious if not a capital offense.

Third, Jesus’ activity in the temple was consistent with his earlier actions, whereby he implied that the temple was no longer necessary. If Jesus himself could forgive sins (Mark 2:1-12), then why bother with the temple? Thus Jesus was saying to a temple-centered religion: The very center of your relationship with God is wrong. Such a critique would not be taken lightly by those who embraced a temple-centered Judaism.

But it wasn’t only what Jesus did in the temple that provoked a negative response from the leaders, but also what he said. You see, by referring to the temple as a “den of robbers,” Jesus was doing far more than insulting the chief priests. He was actually quoting from the prophet Jeremiah. In Jeremiah 7, the prophet condemned the tendency of Israel to put their faith in the existence of the temple. Many in Jeremiah’s day believed that they could do all sorts of evil deeds without fear of punishment because God’s temple was in their midst. The temple was their spiritual safety net, so to speak. But God was neither fooled nor pleased. So, through Jeremiah the Lord prophesied,

Here you are, trusting in deceptive words to no avail. Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, “We are safe!” – only to go on doing all these abominations? Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight? . . . And now, because you have done all these things, says the LORD, . . . therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name . . . just what I did to Shiloh. (Jer 7:8-14)

And what did the Lord do to Shiloh? He destroyed it and the tabernacle it once housed (Psalm 78:60).

In the day of Jeremiah, the people had turned the temple into a “den of robbers,” a place of supposed safety for those who did evil deeds out in the world. For this reason, God promised to destroy the temple, which he did in 586 B.C. Similarly, by quoting from Jeremiah 7 as he overturned the tables in the temple, Jesus implied that the same judgment applied in his day. Those who took refuge in the temple could not presume to be safe. God was about to destroy the temple because of the sin of the people, even as he had done to Shiloh and to the first temple in Jerusalem.

Thus Jesus’ action in the temple, combined with his words, not only insulted and upset the chief priests, but also conveyed God’s judgment upon the temple itself. This crime against the temple could not be tolerated, as far as its leaders were concerned. Jesus, the blasphemous criminal, deserved, not only to be silenced, but also to die. In my next post I’ll examine two fascinating parallels that will help us to see that the Jewish leaders who condemned Jesus were acting in ways fully consistent with their predecessors and successors. Right or wrong, they were doing exactly what Jewish leaders in their position had done and would do again. They thought they were defending God’s temple and, indeed, God himself.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 5

Jewish Leaders Respond to Offenses Against the Temple

In my last post, I suggested that one of the major causes of Jesus’ death was his “cleansing” of the temple. By interrupting the sacrificial system and by quoting Jeremiah’s own condemnation of the temple, Jesus was threatening the very core of Judaism in his day. In the perspective of the Jewish leaders, this would have been blasphemy – speaking against God himself.

For those whose experience and viewpoint is far removed from that of the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem, it may seem that their intended punishment simply doesn’t fit the crime. But, if we look for historical parallels, we find two incidents in which other leaders acted much as did Caiaphas and his associates when dealing with Jesus.

Rembrandt van Rijn, "Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalam," 1630

The first example comes from the ministry of Jeremiah, some 600 years before Jesus. The Lord told Jeremiah to stand in the Jerusalem temple and speak the following:

“If you will not listen to me, to walk in my law that I have set before you, and to heed the words of my servants the prophets whom I send to you urgently – though you have not heeded – then I will make this house like Shiloh, and I will make this city a curse for all the nations of the earth” (Jeremiah 26:4-6).

What response did this prophecy spark in the Jewish leaders and others? Sorrow? Repentance? Hardly! In fact, here’s what happened:

And when Jeremiah had finished speaking all that the LORD had commanded him to speak to all the people, then the priests and the prophets and all the people laid hold of him, saying, “You shall die!” (Jeremiah 26:8)

There it is, the same pattern we see in the last days of Jesus: Speak judgment on the temple and the leaders will believe that you need to die. In the case of Jeremiah, however, he insisted that he was only passing on God’s own message, so the people spared his life (Jer 26:12-16).

Now jump forward in history more than six centuries, to an incident that occurred about thirty years after the death of Jesus. Curiously enough, this incident involved another man named Jesus, son of Ananus (Hananiah), who came to Jerusalem during a feast an began to cry out “against Jerusalem and the holy house.” According to the Jewish historian Josephus, Jesus’ persistent proclamation of judgment on the temple and city offended “certain of the most eminent among the populace,” which is to say, the leaders of Jerusalem. So, at first they beat Jesus severely. But when this didn’t shut him up, they brought Jesus to the Roman procurator “where he was whipped [flogged] till his bones were laid bare.” When even this didn’t silence Jesus, the procurator dismissed this Jesus as a madman and a nuisance. (The story of this Jesus can be found in Josephus’s Jewish War, 6.5.3.)

In this case of Jesus ben Hananiah, the Jewish leaders seem not to have pressed for his crucifixion. Of course, this Jesus didn’t pose the same threat as Jesus of Nazareth once did, nor did he do anything resembling the cleansing of the temple. Yet, merely by proclaiming God’s judgment on the temple, Jesus son of Ananus earned several beatings, including what must have been an almost fatal Roman flogging. And, like Jesus of Nazareth, the Jewish leaders dealt with him, first on their own and then by handing him over to the Roman governor.

The experiences of Jeremiah and Jesus ben Hananiah, though different in detail and time period, nevertheless illustrate how Jewish leaders were apt to deal with those who spoke against the temple. They were worthy of severe punishment, if not death. And when the Jewish leaders no longer had the authority to execute someone, they would turn him over to the Roman governor. Thus the actions of Caiaphas and his associates in response to the problem of Jesus of Nazareth reflect the same commitments and tendencies of similar leaders in similar positions. This greatly increases the likelihood that the historical scenario I have been proposing with respect to Jesus of Nazareth is, in fact, accurate.

In my next post I’ll sum up what we have learned about “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 6

Summing Up One Jewish Perspective

In the last five posts I’ve been examining “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death. Let me briefly summarize my findings, adding some observations along the way.

1. It’s more accurate to speak of “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death than to speak of “the” Jewish perspective because not all Jews agreed with the viewpoint of those who conspired to have Jesus crucified. Only a tiny percentage of Jews in Jerusalem were actually involved in the effort to persuade Pilate to execute Jesus. Moreover, the New Testament Gospels attest to the widespread popularity of Jesus among his Jewish contemporaries. “A great number” of those in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ death were horrified by what had happened to him (Luke 23:27). Thus, if anything, the numerically dominant Jewish perspective would have supported Jesus. But those who held power in Jerusalem we able to do what the masses would not have wanted.

2. Some of the leading Jews in Jerusalem, including Caiaphas, the High Priest, sought to have Jesus crucified. Evidence for this comes not only from all four New Testament Gospels, but also from the Jewish historian Josephus.

3. The Jewish leaders who sought to have Jesus crucified believed that his death was necessary for the following reasons:

a. By stirring up the people, Jesus was threatening the peace and life of the Jewish people, thus increasing the likelihood that Rome would destroy both Jerusalem and the temple. The death of Jesus would be preferable to the destruction of the nation.

b. Jesus “seduced Israel and led them astray from God” (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 43a). His message and ministry lessened the people’s commitment to living out their Judaism in the way approved of by the Jewish leaders (priests, Pharisees).

c. Jesus interrupted the orderly system of sacrifices in the Jerusalem temple, speaking against the temple and its leaders, thus opposing not only the core of Judaism, but God himself. Jesus’ quotation from Jeremiah 7 (“den of robbers”) combined with other things he had said during his ministry clarified his condemnation of the temple – a blasphemous offense. Moreover, he insisted that God was on his side, thus adding blasphemy to blasphemy.

d. Jesus presented himself as the Messiah, the one anointed by God to bring divine salvation to Israel. But he failed to do what the Messiah was supposed to do, notably, lead a successful revolt against Rome. Instead, Jesus turned his judgment against God’s own temple. Thus Jesus was a false messiah. This fact alone might not have warranted his crucifixion. But, when combined with his other offenses, his false claim to messiahship increased further the chances that his actions would bring devastation upon Judea.

4. The efforts of Jewish leaders to silence Jesus by physical violence were consistent with what other Jewish leaders did in similar situations (vs. the prophet Jeremiah in Jer 26 and vs. Jesus ben Hananiah in Josephus, Jewish War, 6.5.3). This consistency greatly increases the probability that the Gospel accounts accurately portray the role of Jewish leaders. Caiaphas and company did exactly what Jewish leaders in their position thought they had to do when someone insulted or threatened the temple.

Implications for the Current Debate

Given this picture of “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death, I want to draw out two implications.

First, it is historically irresponsible to say, “The Jews killed Christ.” Yes, I’m aware that the Gospel of John uses “the Jews” in a way that seems to lay blame for Jesus’ death upon “the Jews.” But, when read in context, “the Jews” means “some Jewish leaders.” Ultimate and legal blame for Jesus’ death fell upon the shoulders of Pontius Pilate, no matter how he might have tried to wriggle out of it. Moreover, many, and quite probably the vast majority of Jews in the time of Jesus, did not want him killed, and were horrified when it happened. Given the tragic history of Christian anti-Semitism, we Christians must speak carefully and accurately about Jewish involvement in his death. The truth: some influential Jews believed Jesus had to die and sought to convince Pilate to crucify him.

Second, it is historically irresponsible to deny all Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus. Some scholars, no doubt responding to the horrors of anti-Semitism, have applied their critical scalpels to the New Testament records, cutting from them any implication of Jewish complicity in the death of Jesus. In their surgery, however, they bleed historical probability to death. In fact two ancient Jewish sources, Josephus and the Talmud, indicate that some Jews were involved in the death of Jesus and help us to understand why they would have been. Plus, the picture of Caiaphas and his associates in the Gospels makes historical and logical sense. These leaders were protecting that which they believed to be essential, including both the temple and their own civic/religious position. The actions of other leaders in similar situations confirm the conclusion that the New Testament Gospels paint an historical reliable picture of Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus.

Finally, there was another Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death, a perspective I haven’t yet mentioned. It was the most important Jewish perspective of all, that of Jesus himself. To the question of why Jesus believed he had to die I’ll turn in my next post in this series.

How Lent Can Make a Difference in Your Relationship with God

How Lent Can Make a Difference in Your Relationship with God

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Note: You may download this resource at
no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use
in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for
sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Introduction to Lent

Growing up as an evangelical Christian, I experienced Lent
as little more than a joke. “What are you giving up for Lent?” my
friends would ask. “Homework,” I’d say with a smirk, or “Obeying my
parents.” Lent was one of those peculiar practices demanded of Roman
Catholics – another great reason to be Protestant, I figured. It never
even occurred to me that Lent was something I might actually be
interested in, or benefit from, or decide to keep, or come to value as a
way of getting to know God better.

In the last fifteen years I’ve discovered that Lent is in
fact recognized by millions of Protestant Christians, in addition to
Catholic and Orthodox believers. (The Eastern Orthodox Lent
is longer than the Catholic or Protestant Lent, and it begins before
Ash Wednesday.) Lent (the word comes from the Middle English word for
“spring”) is a six-week season in the Christian year prior to Easter.
(Technically, Lent comprises the 40 days before Easter, not counting the
Sundays, or 46 days in total.)

In the ancient church, Lent was a time for new converts to
be instructed for baptism and for believers caught in sin to focus on
repentance. In time, all Christians came to see Lent as a season to be
reminded of their need for penitence and to prepare spiritually for the
celebration of Easter. Part of this preparation involved the Lenten
“fast,” giving up something special during the six weeks of Lent (but
not on Sundays, in some traditions.)

Historically, many Protestants rejected the practice of
Lent, pointing out, truly, that it was nowhere required in Scripture.
Some of these Protestants were also the ones who refused to celebrate
Christmas, by the way. They wanted to avoid some of the excessive
aspects of Catholic penitence that tended to obscure the gospel of
grace. These Protestants saw Lent, at best, as something completely
optional for believers, and, at worst, as a superfluous Catholic
practice that true believers should avoid altogether.

A Pastoral Word: Let me note, at this point,
that if you think of Lent as a season to earn God’s favor by your good
intentions or good works, then you’ve got a theological problem. God’s
grace has been fully given to us in Christ. We can’t earn it by doing
extra things or by giving up certain other things in fasting. If you see
Lent as a time to make yourself more worthy for celebrating Good Friday
and Easter, then perhaps you shouldn’t keep the season until you’ve
grown in your understanding of grace. If, on the contrary, you see Lent
as a time to grow more deeply in God’s grace, then you’re approaching
Lent from a proper perspective.

Some segments of Protestantism did continue to recognize a
season of preparation for Easter, however. Their emphasis was not so
much on penitence and fasting as on intentional devotion to God.
Protestant churches sometimes added special Lenten Bible studies or
prayer meetings so that their members would be primed for a deeper
experience of Good Friday and Easter. Lent was a season to do something
extra for God, not to give something up.

After
ignoring Lent for the majority of my life, I’ve paid more attention to
it during the last two decades. Sometimes I’ve given up something, like
watching television or eating sweets, in order to devote more time to
Bible study and prayer. (The television fast was especially tough
because I love watching March Madness, the NCAA basketball tournament,
on TV.) Sometimes I’ve added extra devotional reading to my regular
spiritual disciplines. I can’t claim to have had any mystical
experiences during Lent, but I have found that fasting from something
has helped me focus on God. It has also helped me to look ahead to Good
Friday and Easter, thus appreciating more deeply the meaning of the
cross and the victory of the resurrection. Before I began honoring Lent,
Good Friday and Easter always seemed to rush by before I could give
them the attention they deserved. Now I find myself much more ready to
meditate upon the depth of Christ’s sacrifice and to celebrate his
victory over sin and death on Easter.

Let me be very clear: Lent is not a requirement for Christians.
Dallas Willard has said that if a certain spiritual discipline helps
you grow in God’s grace, then by all means do it. But if it doesn’t,
don’t feel like you must do it. I’d say the same about Lent. If it helps
you prepare for a deeper celebration of Good Friday and Easter, if it
allows you to grow in God’s grace, then by all means keep it. If Lent
isn’t your cup of tea, then don’t feel obligated to keep it. You should
realize, however, that millions of Christians – Catholic, Orthodox,
Protestant, and Independent – have found that recognizing the season of
Lent enriches our worship and deepens our faith in God.

In my next post in this series I’ll consider some of the
symbolism of Lent, and suggest some possible Lenten practices to help
you keep the season.

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Do You Have to Give Up Something for Lent?

I
grew up hearing about Catholics who had to fast during the season of
Lent. No meat on Fridays, only fish. This, you must understand, was a
costly sacrifice in the cafeteria of Glenoaks Elementary School! The
fact that my Catholic friends had to give up decent food in Lent always
seemed to me to be one more good reason to be a Protestant. (Photo: I
expect that the Lent Promo at the Luby’s in Kerrville is much better
than my elementary school’s cafeteria rations.)

But, in the past fifteen years or so, I’ve sometimes
decided to join my Catholic sisters and brothers in giving up something
during Lent. This means, depending on how you count the days of Lent,
fasting from something for about six weeks. (Officially in the Western
world, Lent comprises the days from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday, the
day before Easter. But many traditions do not count the Sundays during
this period as belonging to Lent. Thus Lent covers 46 days, but only 40
days belong to the Lenten fast.)

People in my theological tradition (the Reformed tradition,
pioneered by John Calvin) tend not to emphasize Lenten fasting. Partly
this had to do with the conscious rejection of Roman Catholic practices
that were not clearly based on Scripture. Lent is not prohibited in
Scripture. But it isn’t taught there either. One can be a faithful,
biblical Christian and never recognize Lent. So, in days gone by, many
Reformed folk and other Protestants who wanted to make the season before
Easter special in some way, chose instead to add a spiritual discipline
to their lives as a way of preparing for Easter. It’s quite common
today for churches that don’t have midweek Bible studies, for example,
to offer a Lenten Wednesday Evening Study or something like this.
Special Lenten spiritual retreats are also increasingly common in
Protestant in addition to Roman Catholic circles.

But fasting still plays a prominent role in Lenten
practices of many Christians across the denominational and theological
spectrum. Throughout church history there have been different kinds of
Lenten fasts. Nobody, to my knowledge, expected anyone to give up all
food for the whole season. In the Middle Ages it was common for
Christians to give up certain sorts of food, like meat and/or dairy
products, for example. This explains why, in my youth, Catholics
abstained from meat on the Fridays of Lent. Many Catholics still
observe this discipline. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Lenten fast
is taken even more seriously than in the Roman Catholic church, with
many Orthodox folk eating vegetarian meals during the season.

In
recent years I have sometimes given up something in Lent, perhaps
chocolate or watching television. The latter was particularly hard
because I enjoy college basketball, and March Madness (the NCAA
bastketball tournament) always falls in the middle of Lent. This year I
have decided to give up something I enjoy. I’ve also adopted an
additional daily spiritual discipline. It don’t think it would be
appropriate for me to speak in detail about what I’m doing at this time.
But I would like to share some reflections on what I’ve been learning
through my version of a Lenten fast.

What I’ve Learned by Fasting During Lent

First, giving up something allows me to make a tangible
sacrifice to the Lord. Although certain sacrifices are already present
in my life, they’re sort of “built in” at this point. I don’t often
experience giving up something for God on a daily basis. The act of
sacrifice reminds me of my commitment to God and my desire to make him
first in my life.

Second, by giving up something I usually enjoy on a daily
basis, I have sometimes found myself yearning for that thing. Frankly,
I’ve been tempted to give up my Lenten fast at times. I could easily
argue that it’s unnecessary (it is optional, after all) and certainly
not taught in Scripture. But, though I don’t think my effort at fasting
makes God love or bless me more, I do think it raises my awareness of
how much I depend on other things in life rather than the Lord. I see
how easy it is for me to set up all sorts of little idols in my life.
Fasting, in some way, helps me surrender my idols to God.

Third, when I give up something I like and then feel an
unquenched desire for it, I’m reminded of my neediness as a person. And
neediness, I believe, is at the heart of true spirituality. Jesus said:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. . . .
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
Matthew 5:3, 6

Of course feeling hungry for one of life’s pleasures isn’t
quite the same as hungering and thirsting for righteousness. But when I
feel my hunger, when I sense my neediness for some other thing, I can
use this to get in touch with my hunger and need for God.

Fourth, as I continue with my Lenten fast, I find myself
less eager for the thing I’ve given up. Ironically, this makes my fast
easier. It’s almost something I can take for granted, thus dulling the
spiritual impact of the fast. But I’m also gratified to know that one of
my little “idols” is being set aside in my heart, as I learn to depend
more upon God. I’m experiencing a bit of freedom that makes me gladly
thankful for God’s grace at work in me.

Adding a Lenten Discipline

Instead of or in addition to fasting during Lent, you might
add a spiritual exercise or discipline to your life. If your church
sponsors a Lenten Bible study, you might choose to join this study. Or
you may want to participate in some act of kindness, such as feeding
people at a homeless shelter.

I like to add something that I can do every day. It needs
to be realistic, given my nature and patterns of life. So, for example,
it would be a bad idea if I decided to get up at 5:00 a.m. to pray for
an hour each day of Lent. This would stretch me so far that I’d surely
fail. But I could take on additional Bible reading. Some years I’ve read
one chapter of a gospel each day of Lent, taking it in slowly and
meditating upon it. Other years I’ve used a Lenten devotional to focus
my thought.

If you have no idea what to do during Lent, let me suggest
the following. Set aside some time of quiet to as the Lord what he wants
you to do. See if the Spirit of God guides you to something. If nothing
comes to mind, I’d recommend that you read a chapter of a gospel each
day. If you start with Mark, you’ll have time to read all of Mark plus
all of one other gospel during Lent.

Perhaps some of my readers would like to suggest Lenten
disciplines that they have tried in the past, and how they have
experienced God’s grace through these exercises.

So, as we enter the season of Lent, I am grateful for the
saints who have gone before me, some of whom discovered the blessings
of giving up something in Lent, while others grew in their faith by
adding a Lenten discipline. No matter what you do during this Lenten
season, I pray that God will draw us closer to him, and prepare us for
a fresh experience of Good Friday and Easter. May God’s peace be with
You!

Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning

Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series

Note: You may download this resource at
no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use
in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for
sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

What is Ash Wednesday?

What is Ash Wednesday? For most of my life, I didn’t ask
this question, nor did I care about the answer. I, along, with most
evangelical Christians in America, didn’t give Ash Wednesday a thought.

But then, in 2004, Ash Wednesday loomed large in American
Protestant consciousness. Why? Because on that day Mel Gibson released
what was to become his epic blockbuster, The Passion of the Christ.
For the first time in history, the phrase “Ash Wednesday” was on the
lips of millions of evangelical Christians, not just Catholics and other
“high church” Protestants, as we anticipated the official release of The Passion.

I grew up with only a vague notion of Ash Wednesday. To me,
it was some Catholic holy day that I, as an evangelical Protestant,
didn’t have to worry about, thanks be to God. In my view, all of “that
religious stuff” detracted from what really mattered, which was having a
personal relationship with Jesus Christ. In my early evangelical years
it never dawned on me that some of “the religious stuff” might actually
enrich my faith in Christ.

During
the spring of 1976, my first year of college, I was startled to see a
woman who worked in my dining hall with a dark cross rubbed on her
forehead. At first I wondered if it were a bizarre bruise. Then I
noticed other women with similar crosses. It finally dawned on me what I
was seeing. Here was my introduction to Ash Wednesday piety. These
women, who were are Roman Catholic, had gone to services that morning
and had ashes placed on their foreheads. I felt impressed that these
women were willing to wear their ashes so publicly, even though it
seemed a rather odd thing to do. It never dawned on me that this would
be something I might do myself one day.

Fast forward sixteen years, to the spring of 1992. During
my first year as Senior Pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church, I learned
that this church had a tradition of celebrating Ash Wednesday with a
special worship service. It included the “imposition of ashes” on the
foreheads of worshippers. I, as the pastor, was expected to be one of
the chief imposers! So I decided it was time to learn about the meaning
of Ash Wednesday. I wanted to be sure that the theological underpinnings
of such a practice were biblically solid, and that it was something in
which I could freely participate.

Here’s some of what I learned . . . .

Ash Wednesday is a Christian holiday (holy day) that is not
a biblical requirement (rather like Christmas and Easter).
Nevertheless, it has been honored by Christians for well over ten
centuries at the beginning of Lent, a six-week season of preparation for
Easter. In the earliest centuries, Christians who had fallen into
persistent sin had ashes sprinkled on their bodies as a sign of
repentance, even as Job repented “in dust and ashes” (Job 42:6). Around
the tenth century, all believers began to signify their need for
repentance by having ashes placed on their foreheads in the shape of a
cross. Notice: even this sign of sinfulness hinted at the good news yet
to come through its shape. Ash Wednesday is not some dour, depressing
holy day because it symbolically anticipates Good Friday and Easter.

Today, celebrations of Ash Wednesday vary among churches
that recognize this holiday. More and more Protestant and even
evangelical churches hold some sort of Ash Wednesday services. At Irvine
Presbyterian Church, where I served for sixteen years as pastor, and at
St. Mark Presbyterian Church in Boerne, Texas, where I now attend,
ashes are placed on our foreheads as a reminder of our mortality and
sinfulness. The person who imposes the ashes quotes something like what
God once said to Adam after he had sinned: “You are dust, and to dust
you shall return” (Gen 3:19). This is the bad news of our sinfulness
that prepares us to receive the good news of forgiveness in Christ.

What
I value most about Ash Wednesday worship services is the chance for us
all to openly acknowledge our frailty and sinfulness. In a world that
often expects us to be perfect, on Ash Wednesday we freely confess our
imperfections. We can let down our pretenses and be truly honest with
each other about who we are. We all bear the mark of sin, from the
youngest babies to the oldest seniors. We all stand guilty before a holy
God. We all are mortal and will someday experience bodily death. Thus
we all need a Savior.

Perhaps one of the greatest benefits of Ash Wednesday is
that it begins the season of Lent. This is also a foreign concept for
many evangelical Christians. In a couple of days I’ll weigh in on the
meaning and benefit of Lent. Tomorrow I’ll stay focused on Ash
Wednesday.

Staring Death in the Face

The denial of death . . . it’s all around us. When people
die, they are often alone, sequestered in hospitals far away from the
sad eyes of friends and family. If someone happens to die at home, the
corpse is quickly sent away from the grieving relatives. In polite
society one doesn’t talk much about death. And when it’s necessary to
say something that has to do with dying, nifty euphemisms keep us from
confronting the brute facts. When I lived in California, people would
say, “Uncle Fred passed away.” In Texas, for some reason, people are
more succinct, saying, “Uncle Fred passed.”

Of course our own fears concerning our own demise match
our cultural squeamishness about death. We don’t want to think about our
own mortality, and we do many things to pretend that its not
approaching. We dye our graying hair. We cover our age spots with make
up. We get cosmetic surgery to preserve the image of youth. Rarely do we
seriously think about our own death. As a pastor, I’m amazed at how
unusual it is for someone to make plans for his or her own memorial
service, or even to leave notes for the family. These are things we’d
rather not have to bother with.

I’m reminded about a story told by my friend Tim, who was a
restaurant manager. Part of his job was to explain the company’s
benefit package to his new employees. One time, Tim hired a young man
who didn’t speak English very well because he had recently immigrated to
the United States. Tim explained the vacation policy, sick leave, and
health insurance, all without incident. Then he came to the life
insurance. He showed that if the employee died, his family would get
$25,000.

At this point the employee had a shocked look on his face, and said, “No, no, Tim!”

Tim wasn’t sure he had been clear, so he explained, once again, “Look, if you die, your family will get $25,000.”

Again, the employee was unhappy. “No, I don’t want it,” he said urgently.

“Why not?” Tim asked. “If you die, this will be good for your family.”

“But Tim,” the employee cried, “I don’t want to die!”

Ash Wednesday is a day when we stare death in the face.
Christians who observe this holiday get ashes “imposed” on their
foreheads, while a minister or lay church worker says, “You have come
from dust, and to dust you will return.” In other words, “You are going
to die. And here are some ashes to remind you, just in case you’ve
forgotten.”

For sixteen years of Ash Wednesday services at Irvine
Presyyterian Church, I put ashes on the heads of older adults, some of
whom had serious cancer and didn’t live much longer. I also put tiny
black crosses made of ash on the foreheads of babies far too young to
realize what was happening to them. I imposed ashes on teenagers and
senior citizens, on men and women, on boys and girls. All of these I
reminded of their mortality, and they freely received the reminder. “You
are dust,” I said, implying, “You are going to die.”

What
gives us such freedom to think about death? Are we Christians morose?
Do we have some peculiar fascination with dying? I don’t think so.
Rather, what allows us to stare death in the face is the assurance of
life, real life, eternal life. When we know our lives are safe in the
hands of God, and that this physical life is just the beginning of
eternity, then we’re free to be honest about what lies ahead for us. We
can face death without fear or pretending, because we know the One who
defeated death.

I’ll never forget my last visit with a dear member of my
congregation named Helen. She was a tiny woman when healthy, but old age
and disease had ravaged her body. I wouldn’t be surprised if she
weighed 75 pounds on the day of my last visit.

There was no question that Helen was soon to die. And there
was no point for me to pretend as if that weren’t true. So I asked her
straightaway: “Helen, it’s obvious that you don’t have too much time
left in this body. How are you feeling about dying?”

“Mark,” she said with a weak but confident voice, “I’ve
lived a good, long life. I’ve been blessed far beyond what I could have
hoped. You’re right, my body is giving out. I don’t have much longer to
live. But I want you to know that I am ready. I’m not afraid. I’m eager
to see my Lord. I hope I get to soon.”

Talk about staring death in the face! What gave Helen such
unusual bluntness and boldness when it came to her own imminent death?
Her faith in God. Her confidence that her life was really just
beginning. Her assurance that her soul was safe in the hands of a
gracious, loving God.

And so it is for Christians on Ash Wednesday. We can face
death. We can admit our own mortality. We can talk openly about the
limits of this life. Why? Because we know that through Christ we have
entered into life eternal, the fullness of life that will not end when
our bodies give out.

The
emotional result of Ash Wednesday observance isn’t depression or gloom,
but gratitude and new energy for living. When we realize how
desperately we need God, and how God is faithful far beyond our
desperation, we can’t help but offering our lives to him in fresh
gratitude. And when we recognize that life doesn’t go on forever, then
we find new passion to delight in the gifts of each and every day, and
to take none of them for granted.

One year, as I returned to my seat after imposing ashes
upon dozens of worshipers, I sat next to my 12-year-old son. I couldn’t
help but notice the prominent black cross on his forehead, placed there
by another leader. All of a sudden it hit me that my dear boy will die
someday. Though I knew this in principle, I had never really thought
about it before. My boy won’t live forever. His life, like mine and that
of every other human being, will come to an end. At that moment I
prayed that God would give Nathan a long and blessed life. And then I
hugged him for a good minute, treasuring the life we share together.

How grateful I am for the grace of God that allows us to
stare death in the face so we can live with greater passion and delight!
And how thankful I am for a day that allows me to think about death so I
can cherish life even more!

A Christmas Miracle?

My daughter, Kara, was born in November 1994. Though she was a delightful baby most of the time, in her first weeks she did have a habit of crying uncontrollably in the early evening. This was not a major problem for my wife and me, except that Irvine Presbyterian Church wanted us to play the holy family in the Christmas Eve children’s pageant. The timing was perfectly wrong. We would be in front of a sanctuary full of people at precisely the time Kara would be bawling. Not exactly conducive to a celebrative Christmas Eve service! How would we be able to sing “Silent Night” with “the baby Jesus” howling away?

Nevertheless, my wife, Linda, and I agreed to give it a try. We formulated various contingency plans, fully expecting Kara to cry. Yet, when it was time for us to make our grand entrance, Kara was wide-awake but strangely silent. We stood before the congregation for many minutes, ready to try and comfort Kara when the inevitable crying began. But Kara rested in Linda’s arms, happy, peaceful, and miraculously quiet. In fact, she never once made a single peep while she played her crucial role as the baby Jesus. And, if you can believe it, that was the end of her evening crying episodes. She never again had them.

The Piazza del Popolo and Its Augustan Obelisk

A view of the Piazza del Popolo in Rome:

The obelisk in the piazza, once dedicated to an Egyptian pharoah, but “repurposed” by Augustus to glorify himself. This was once in the Circus Maximus in Rome, but was moved to its current location in the sixteenth century.

A closeup of the inscription on the base of the obelisk. This was added by Augustus. It reads:

IMP . CAESAR . DIVI . F
AVGVSTVS
PONTIFEX . MAXIMVS
IMP . XII . COS . XI . TRIB . POT . XIV
AEGVPTO . IN . POTESTATEM
POPVLI . ROMANI . REDACTA
SOLI . DONUM . DEDIT

In English, this would be translated:

“Emperor Augustus Caesar, son of the divine Caesar, Supreme Pontiff, given the title of imperator [a former word for emperor and also meaning Supreme Chief] for the eleventh time, and, after subjecting Egypt to the Romans, entitled to represent the people [Tribunicia Potestas] for the fourteenth time, offered this obelisk as a gift to the sun”.

Christmas According to Dickens

Christmas According to Dickens

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

For an updated and reformatted version of this series click here.

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Our Favorite Christmas Carol?

What Is Your Favorite Christmas Carol?

If you were to ask
people “What is your favorite Christmas carol?” you’d get a wide variety
of answers. Many would offer up “Silent Night” or “Joy to the World.”
Folks who count all Christmas songs as carols might mention “Winter
Wonderland” or “The Christmas Song” (Chestnuts roasting . . .). In fact,
these two were the most popular holiday songs in the last decade, according to ASCAP. So far this year, “Sleigh Ride” is leading the pack.

But
when I refer to “our favorite Christmas carol,” I’m thinking of a
different genre. I want to talk about, not holiday hymns and songs, but a
book known as A Christmas Carol. Of course, I’m speaking of the
holiday classic by Charles Dickens. If you were to add up the sum total
of human love for this book, it might just be the most beloved of all
Christmas carols. It is surely the most popular of all Christmas
stories, save for the one that is found in the pages of the New
Testament. (The cover of the first edition of A Christmas Carol, released in December 1843).

A Christmas Carol Many Times Over

I have read A Christmas Carol
probably ten times, ever since I began doing so as a yearly holiday
tradition. I have listened to a recorded version of the book about three
times. I have watched cinematic renditions of the story at least ten
times, ranging from the sublime 1951 version starring Alastair Sim to
the ridiculous Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol from 1962. Moreover, I
have seen live dramatic presentations of this story at least a dozen
times, including the Christianized version that was presented every year
at the church where I grew up as well as the always outstanding
performance at the Glendale Centre Theatre
(which is still offering its winsome drama, now in its 46th year). In
fact, this week I’ll be playing the role of Marley’s ghost in a
shortened dramatic version at my work Christmas party. I hope there will
be more of grave than gravy in me.

When you add up the numbers, I have read or watched or listened to A Christmas Carol
at least thirty five times, and counting. No other work of fiction even
comes close to this number in my whole life experience, except,
perhaps, for reading Goodnight Moon to my children when they were young. Yet, even after thirty-five exposures, I still love A Christmas Carol. Indeed, I may very well appreciate it more now than ever.

Why Is A Christmas Carol So Beloved?

Well, there are several obvious features of A Christmas Carol
that augment its easy likability. First of all, it is short. You can
read it in less than two hours. When Dickens himself used to do public,
oral readings of the book (as he often did), he’d take only three hours
or so. In truth, A Christmas Carol really isn’t a novel. It’s more of a novella, or, as Dickens himself labels it, “Ghost Story of Christmas.”

Second, A Christmas Carol
is about Christmas, obviously enough. This is a popular subject, even
in today’s increasingly secular world. It’s hard to imagine that An Ephiphany Carol or even A New Year’s Eve Carol would capture our imaginations as much as A Christmas Carol. Yet, Dickens wrote four other Christmas books that are rarely read. This fact suggests that A Christmas Carol’s popularity has to do with more than just its happy theme.

Third, A Christmas Carol
features the literary elements that make Dickens such a delightful
author. It’s filled with mouthwatering descriptions of luscious food and
drink. It’s got lots of suspense and lots of humor. The characters are
truly memorable, even ones that have very few lines. Who doesn’t
remember Tiny Tim and his iconic “God bless us, everyone!”? And, of
course, A Christmas Carol is a salient example of Dickens’s
inimitable narrative style, a kind of “I’m-your-friend” storytelling
that draws the reader into the tale and features utterly enjoyable,
ironic, lush descriptions.

All of this contributes to the popularity of A Christmas Carol,
to be sure. But none of what I’ve suggested accounts for the
unprecedented popularity of Dickens’s little story. This, I believe,
results from the narrative core of the story, the changed soul of
Ebenezer Scrooge. Above all, we delight in watching an ice-cold, stony
heart become warm and tender. As we observe the transformation in
Scrooge, we just may feel a bit of it ourselves.

Christmas According to Dickens

Today’s post is the first part of a blog series I’m calling Christmas According to Dickens.
Since beginning my blog in December 2003, I have occasionally touched
on this topic before. Now it’s time for another go. In the days ahead,
I’ll give some background on Dickens and the writing of A Christmas Carol,
including some truly surprising details that are unknown to most
people. Then I’ll move into the center of this series, an exploration of
Scrooge’s miraculous transformation. I’ll be seeking to answer the
question: Why did Scrooge change? Finally, I’ll offer some thoughts
about what you and I can learn from the example of Ebenezer Scrooge.

I’m doing this series partly because I’m fascinated by the subject, also because I love A Christmas Carol and admire its author. Dickens is probably my favorite writer, or at least he ranks in the top three. I will be reading A Christmas Carol
not as a scholar of English literature (which I am not, at any rate),
but as a faithful enthusiast and also a Christian. Along the way, I’ll
offer some pastoral reflections on the story, touching upon ways that
Dickens encourages us in our life of faith. Though he was not an
orthodox Christian, Dickens was a believer in God whose work reflected,
in many ways, both a Christian worldview and Christian values. So, while
we ought not to derive our theology from Dickens, we can find much in A Christmas Carol to stir our hearts and inspire our actions.

Resources for A Christmas Carol

I’d like to recommend a couple of resources that will augment your appreciation of A Christmas Carol.

The first is an audio version of the book, performed by Jim Dale.
Dale, who is well known for his inspired reading of the Harry Potter
series, is a master reader. His interpretation of Dickens brings the
story to life. One of my favorite ways of “reading” A Christmas Carol is by listening to Jim Dale.

The second resource is a book that will help you understand every last word in A Christmas Carol. The Annotated Christmas Carol
includes a marvelous introduction and commentary by Michael Patrick
Hearn, a distinguished literary scholar. Now you can appreciate the
nuances and historical connections Dickens incorporated into the book.

Dickens: The Man Who Invented Christmas?

In 1988 the Sunday Telegraph of London gave Charles Dickens the title of
“The Man Who Invented Christmas.” If you’re not familiar with the
history of Christmas celebrations, this may seem like an enormous
exaggeration. But when you look more closely, the Telegraph’s hyperbole
turns out to be closer to the truth than you might expect. (Photo:
Charles Dickens)

The Context for Writing A Christmas Carol

Of course
Christians had been celebrating the birth of Christ for centuries before
Charles Dickens came along. And northern Europeans also had their
winter festivals, both pagan and secular. But, in England at the turn of
the nineteenth century, Christmas had almost vanished from the scene.
There were several reasons for this disappearance. In part, the
continued influence of conservative Reformed Christians-who believed
that people should do only what the Bible commands, and therefore should
not celebrate Christmas, especially given its popular excesses-meant
that for many in England Christmas was not a valid holiday. Now before
you’re too tough on my theological forebears, you should know that some
of the popular Christmas celebrations in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries were a long way from the festive gatherings we associate with
this time of year. They were rather like the worst of office parties,
rife with drunkenness and sexual license, combined with the hooliganism
we see in some extreme celebrations of Halloween. Even many Anglicans
were outraged by what they saw. The Reverence Henry Bourne of Newcastle
lamented that Christmas was “a pretense for Drunkenness, and Rioting,
and Wantonness” (Les Standiford, The Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday Spirits, p. 107. If you want the full story of “the man who invented Christmas,” Standiford’s book is an excellent source.)

Anyway,
even though English Christians of a Puritan stripe had actually
outlawed Christmas in the 17th century during their brief flirtation
with political power, their efforts to wipe out the holiday had been
largely unsuccessful. The disappearance of Christmas from English
culture had much more to do with the social impact of industrialization
and urbanization. As large numbers of people left their ancestral
villages to move to the large cities, they also left behind most of
their cultural traditions, such as the celebration of Christmas.
Moreover, in the cities, bosses weren’t inclined to encourage a holiday
that meant a day off from work, especially a day of paid vacation.
(Ebenezer Scrooge’s reticence to give Bob Cratchit a holiday on
Christmas wasn’t that unusual in his day.)

Another implication of
big city life in Victorian England was widespread poverty and human
suffering. Although many people worked in factories and offices, wages
were low and living conditions poor. This was an abiding concern for
Charles Dickens, especially in the fall of 1843. Amid his busy writing
career, he was working hard to raise support for institutions that
educated and otherwise helped the urban poor of England (not unlike the
“portly gentlemen” in Stave I of A Christmas Carol).

In
October 1843, a trip to Manchester poured fuel on the flame of Dickens’s
passion for the poor. As he spoke at the Athenaeum, an institution
devoted to caring for the poor in Manchester, Dickens’s heart was
strangely moved. Moreover, he had stayed with his beloved sister Fan
(the name of Ebenezer Scrooge’s dear sister in A Christmas Carol), who had two young sons, one of whom was frail and sick (not unlike Tiny Tim). So in October, Dickens began to write A Christmas Carol. According to his own testimony, his writing of this short book was rather a spiritual experience.

The Impact of A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol was
published on December 19, 1843. All 6,000 copies of the first edition
were sold by December 22. The book became instantly popular, though the
high cost of printing, including the fine illustrations, limited
Dickens’s profits. Before long, however, vast numbers of people in
England and America knew the story, not only from reading the book, but
also from dramatic presentations and many public readings by Dickens
himself.

Because our own celebrations of Christmas have been so
strongly influenced by Dickens, we can easily overlook his special
contributions to our traditions, such as:

â€¢ Christmas as a major holiday. At the time of Dickens, it was relatively ignored by most people.
â€¢ Christmas as a one (or two) day celebration rather than the traditional twelve.
â€¢ Christmas as an occasion for family and close friends to gather for luscious food, singing, dancing, and games. Before A Christmas Carol,
turkey was an uncommon on Christmas tables. After the book, it became
the meat of choice for this holiday (Standiford, 184-185).
â€¢ Christmas as a time for being generous to the poor.

Dickens
did not so much invent these traditions as he resurrected them and
popularized them. Much of what we assume to be true of Christmas
celebrations today derives from the vision of Dickens, especially as
portrayed in A Christmas Carol.

So close was the
connection between Charles Dickens and Christmas that, when he died in
1870, a young woman who heard of it was aghast. “Dickens dead?” she
exclaimed. “Then will Father Christmas die too?” Well, as it turns out,
Father Christmas didn’t die along with his greatest promoter, Charles
Dickens. The influence of this man, and most of all his masterful
novella, A Christmas Carol guaranteed that Christmas would be kept for generations upon generations.

In
my next post I’ll focus on one of the essential elements in a Dickens
Christmas, something I believe we all should include in our holiday
celebrations today.

The Real Business of Christmas

In Monday’s post I began to explain the impact of Charles Dickens, especially through A Christmas Carol, upon our celebrations of Christmas. In fact, it’s not too much of an exaggeration to describe him, in the words of the London Sunday Telegraph, as “the man who invented Christmas.”

Dickens’s
influence on our Christmas traditions is keenly felt today in many
ways, even though we may not be aware of it. In this post I want to
offer one salient example that flows from the pages of A Christmas Carol into our lives today.

Business in Stave One of A Christmas Carol

Early
in the first stave (chapter), Ebenezer Scrooge receives an unwelcome
Christmas Eve visit from his nephew. When his Uncle Scrooge questions
the value of Christmas, Fred responds:

“But I am sure I
have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round-apart from
the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging
to it can be apart from that-as a good time; a kind, forgiving,
charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their
shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they
really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of
creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has
never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has
done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

Even
apart from its religious significance, Fred sees Christmas as
worthwhile because it is a time of unusual generosity. Of course Scrooge
doesn’t buy into this one bit. (Photo: The two “portly gentlemen” from a
stage production of A Christmas Carol in Omaha, Nebraska)

No
sooner had Fred left his uncle alone than “two portly gentlemen,
pleasant to behold” dropped in on Mr. Scrooge. One explained his
business thus:

“At this festive season of the year, Mr.
Scrooge,” said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than usually
desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and
destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in
want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common
comforts, sir.”

When Scrooge was unmoved, the man
explained, “We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others,
when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices.” Of course Scrooge
wants nothing to do with their efforts to make provision for the poor,
exclaiming: “It’s not my business. . . . It’s enough for a man to
understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s.”

But
some ghostly interference in Scrooge’s life changed his opinion on the
matter of his business, especially at Christmastime. When visited by the
ghost of his former partner, Jacob Marley, the ghost lamented his
failure to have lived his life well by caring for others. Scrooge
attempted to reassure him by saying, “But you were always a good man of
business,” to which the ghost responded:

“Business!”
cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The
common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and
benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a
drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

Then Marley’s ghost added an extra note about Christmas:

“At
this time of the rolling year,” the spectre said, “I suffer most. Why
did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and
never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor
abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted
me?”

Notice that if Jacob Marley had imitated the Wise
Men, he wouldn’t have been led to worship the Christ child, but rather
to be generous to the poor. This, rather than the religious meaning of
Christmas, is central to Dickens’s vision of the holiday.

Business in Stave Five of A Christmas Carol

As
Scrooge is visited by Marley and his coterie of ghosts, Scrooge’s heart
softens towards all people, especially the poor. Thus when his
transformation is complete in Stave 5, the very first thing Scrooge does
is to purchase a giant turkey for the family of his poor clerk, Bob
Cratchit. Then, as he is walking about on Christmas morning, he runs
into the same portly gentlemen who had the unfortunate experience of
meeting Scrooge the previous day. Yet, now, things are quite different.
Scrooge approaches them, offers them Christmas greetings, and then
whispers something in the ear of one of the men, presumably revealing
how much he will contribute to their effort to help the poor. Here’s the
following dialogue:

“Lord bless me!” cried the gentleman, as if his breath were taken away. “My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?”

“If
you please,” said Scrooge. “Not a farthing less. A great many
back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that
favour?”

“My dear sir,” said the other, shaking hands with him. “I don’t know what to say to such munificence-”

“Don’t say anything please,” retorted Scrooge. “Come and see me. Will you come and see me?”

The primary and most obvious proof of Scrooge’s transformation in the end of A Christmas Carol
is not simply his delight in Christmas, nor his attendance at church,
nor even his joining his nephew’s Christmas party. Rather, the proof
that Scrooge is a changed man is seen in his exceptional generosity,
both with the Cratchit family in particular and with all needy people in
general.

So when Dickens concludes that Scrooge “knew how to
keep Christmas well,” he means more than that he abolished “Bah!
Humbug!” in favor of “Merry Christmas!” Ebenezer Scrooge kept Christmas
well by becoming “as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other
good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.” This goodness
is seen especially in his generosity both at Christmas and throughout
the year. He learned the truth that eluded Jacob Marley in this life,
namely: “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business;
charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business.”
These became the business of Ebenezer Scrooge, even as they are now
central to the business of Christmas.

The First “Ebenezer Scrooge”

If I were to tell you that Charles Dickens wrote a story about a
solitary, crotchety old man who despised both people and Christmas until
some supernatural visitors came to him on Christmas Eve and taught him
to have a new perspective on life, you’d probably say, “Yes, of course,
Ebenezer Scrooge.” But if I were to tell you I wasn’t thinking of
Ebenezer Scrooge at all, but rather of Gabriel Grub, you might be a bit
surprised. So go ahead and be surprised, if you wish, because what I’m
saying is true.

Introducing Gabriel Grub, the First “Scrooge”

In 1836, seven years before he wrote A Christmas Carol, Dickens published a short story as Chapter 29 of The Pickwick Papers.
“The Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton” relates the strange
experiences of Gabriel Grub, the sexton (caretaker and gravedigger) for a
church in a rural village, and a literary cousin of Ebenezer Scrooge.
According to Dickens, Gabriel Grub was “an ill-conditioned,
cross-grained, surly fellow – a morose and lonely man, who consorted
with nobody but himself.” He had “a deep scowl of malice and ill-humor.”
Sounds like Scrooge, doesn’t he? (Photo: the churchyard of Elmley
Castle Church, Worcestershire, Great Britain)

One
Christmas Eve, Grub decided to go to the churchyard to dig a grave. As
he walked through the streets of his village, he watched people making
preparations for Christmas parties-parties he wouldn’t even think to
attend, should he have been invited. When he saw children playing games,
Grub amused himself with the thought of “measles, scarlet fever,
thrush, whooping-cough, and a good many other sources of consolations
besides.” If his neighbors offered him a Christmas greeting, Grub
returned “a short, sullen growl,” not “Humbug!” but its preverbal
precursor. When a young lad was singing a Christmas song in the street,
Gabriel Grub cornered the boy and “rapped him over the head with his
lantern five or six times.” As he began digging a grave, Grub cheered
himself with this thought: “A coffin at Christmas! A Christmas box! Ho!
ho! ho!”

But then Gabriel Grub received a surprise visitor, a
grinning goblin who taunted him with clever dialogue. Soon this goblin
was joined by “a whole troop of goblins” who captured Grub and dragged
him down into the earth. Grub found himself in a cavern with the first
goblin, the “king of goblins,” and his band. They proceeded to show him a
series of scenes that were magically projected in the end of the
cavern. The first scene was of a poor family: many children and their
mother. The children rejoiced when their father joined them. But then
the scene shifted to a bedroom, in which “the fairest and youngest child
lay dying.” “Even as the sexton looked upon him with an interest he had
never felt or known before, the little boy died.” Yet the family had
assurance that their little one was in “happy Heaven.” (The similarity
between this scene and that of Bob Cratchit’s family in A Christmas Carol is striking.)

After
the magic scene ended, the goblins beat Gabriel Grub, and then showed
him another ghostly video. This sequence of viewings and beatings
happened many times over, and “many a lesson it taught to Gabriel Grub.”
“He saw that men who worked hard, and earned their scanty bread with
lives of labour, were cheerful and happy . . . because they bore within
their own bosoms the materials of happiness, contentment, and peace.” On
the other hand, Gabriel Grub “saw that men like himself, who snarled at
the mirth and cheerfulness of others, were the foulest weeds on the
fair surface of the earth, and setting all the good of the world against
the evil, he came to the conclusion that it was a very decent and
respectable sort of world after all.” At this point he fell asleep, only
to awake in the churchyard on Christmas morning.

After his
encounter with the goblins, Grub “was an altered man.” Yet “he could not
bear the thought of returning to a place where his repentance would be
scoffed at, and his reformation disbelieved.” So, Gabriel Grub
disappeared from his village for ten years. When he finally returned, he
was “a ragged, contented, rheumatic old man.” The moral of the story,
according to the narrator, was “that if a man turn sulky and drink by
himself at Christmas time, he may make up his mind to be not a bit the
better for it: let the spirits be never so good.”

Gabriel Grub and Ebenezer Scrooge

Reading
the story of Gabriel Grub is like looking at the charcoal sketches of
an artist getting ready to paint a masterpiece. The parallels between
“The Story of the Goblins” and A Christmas Carol are obvious: a
solitary, nasty old man not only refuses to celebrate Christmas, but
also spurns the greetings of those who do, and even tries to hurt a boy
who sings a Christmas carol. On Christmas Eve, this man receives
unexpected supernatural visitors who proceed to show him many scenes of
life, including a moving scene of a poor, loving family whose youngest
child is terribly ill. In the end, the man is changed by this
experience. These are some of the obvious parallels between the story of
Gabriel Grub and that of Ebenezer Scrooge.

Of course there are also many differences between “The Story of the Goblins” and A Christmas Carol.
One of the most striking differences emerges when we compare
conclusions. Whereas Gabriel Grub slunk away out of fear that the
townspeople would laugh at him, Ebenezer Scrooge resolved to live a
changed life. After the Ghost of Christmas Future revealed to Scrooge
his own sorry death, Scrooge exclaimed: “I will honour Christmas in my
heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the
Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within
me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.” And so he did.

Yet,
in light of the tale of Gabriel Grub, who ran away from town for fear
of people’s laughing scorn, let’s read once again from the conclusion to
A Christmas Carol. Scrooge had just promised to Bob Cratchit
that he would raise his salary and help his struggling family. After
this Dickens writes:

Scrooge was better than his word. He
did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he
was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and
as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city,
town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the
alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he
was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for
good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the
outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought
it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as
have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and
that was quite enough for him.

Both in “The Story of the Goblins Who Stole a Sexton” and in A Christmas Carol,
Dickens recognizes that people will laugh when a person is transformed
from bad to good. Yet, whereas fear of this response kept Gabriel Grub
in bondage, Scrooge was able to transcend it. “His own heart laughed:
and that was quite enough for him.” Just as Gabriel Grub recognized that
people must have happiness in their hearts, and that this helps them
overcome life’s difficulties, so it was with Ebenezer Scrooge.

But
the differences between Grub and Scrooge suggest a tantalizing
question: Why did Ebenezer Scrooge change? And why did he change so
thoroughly that he didn’t even mind if people were to laugh at him? To
these questions I’ll return in my next post in this series.

“Ebenezer Scrooge” – The Meaning of the Name

As
a first step in our consideration of the question “Why did Ebenezer
Scrooge change?” I want to examine the character’s name. Charles Dickens
was an author who paid attention to the tiniest details of a story.
Surely he chose the name “Ebenezer Scrooge” quite intentionally, fully
aware of its multiple layers of meaning.

The Meaning of “Scrooge”

For
us, the word “Scrooge” is synonymous with “cranky, selfish miser.” The
character of Ebenezer Scrooge is so familiar that if you were to refer
to someone as a “Scrooge,” just about everybody in the Western world
would know what you mean. They’d understand that you were not offering a
compliment!

In fact, however, the name “Scrooge” is a variation
of an obscure English verb: “to scrouge” or “to scruze.” This verb means
“to squeeze” or “to press.” The fact that Dickens chose the name
“Scrooge” with this meaning in mind is clear in the classic description
of the character in Stave One of A Christmas Carol:

Oh!
But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-stone, Scrooge! a
squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old
sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out
generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin
lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime
was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his
own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the
dog-days; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

It’s as if Dickens opened his thesaurus and copied down every synonym of “squeezing.”

What
did Ebenezer Scrooge squeeze so tightly? Most obviously, he squeezed
his money. He grasped it and clung to it. He held it so tightly that he
was unwilling to part with a farthing. But Ebenezer Scrooge also
squeezed his heart. He suffocated his own soul with his obsession with
gain. Greed was choking the life out of Ebenezer Scrooge.

I
believe without a doubt that Dickens chose the name “Scrooge” primarily
because of its underlying meaning. But I wonder if a couple other
factors figured into the naming equations. First, I wonder if Dickens
chose a name that was uncommon or unique. If you’re going to produce a
character who is a classic miser, you may not want to name him “Mr.
Smith” or “Mr. Roberts,” out of deference to those who have these
surnames. Second, the word “Scrooge” just begs to be spoken in a slow,
resonant, ghostly manner. When Marley’s ghost drones “Scroooooooge,”
that works much better, for example, than “Craaaaachit.” I wouldn’t be
surprised if Dickens chose “Scrooge” for its sound as well as its
meaning.

The Meaning of “Ebenezer”

In English, Ebenezer is a man’s name. Today it is quite uncommon, apart from its association with A Christmas Carol.
In the time of Charles Dickens, men were called Ebenezer, though I’m
not able to judge how common the name was. So, for example, in 1840, a
man named Ebenezer Elliott, who identified himself as a “Corn-Law Rhymer,” published a book of his poetical works (Edinburgh: William Tait, 1840).

The
name “Ebenezer” was not original to the English language. In fact, it
was an anglicized version of a Hebrew name, which is itself composed of
two Hebrew words. In 1 Samuel 4:1, for example, the Israelities camped
at a place called Ebenezer. This name is a combination of the Hebrew
word for stone (eben) and the Hebrew word for helper (‘ezer). Thus, an ebenezer (literally, ha-eben ha-‘ezer)
would have been a stone that offered some sort of assistance. In 1
Samuel 7:12, the judge Samuel sets up a stone as a monument in
remembrance of God’s special help. It was a “help-stone” that reminded
the Israelites of God’s care. It was rather like those little monuments
you find along highways throughout the United States. They commemorate
some event long past, helping us to remember what we would otherwise
forget.

Interestingly enough, the name “Ebenezer” appears rarely in A Christmas Carol.
Scrooge’s first name is not mentioned in the first pages of the book.
We don’t hear it until Marley’s ghost speaks the name, first in
explaining that he has no comfort to offer his former partner. Marley’s
second use of “Ebenezer” comes when he explains the purpose of his
visit: “I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and
hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.”
This is the first instance of grace given to Scrooge, and he receives it
with his first communication of gratitude, saying, “You were always a
good friend to me. . . . Thank ‘ee!” The only other character to use the
name “Ebenezer” is Old Fezziwig, Scrooge’s former employer whom Scrooge
holds in high esteem. The final use of “Ebenezer” in A Christmas Carol comes on a literal ebenezer,
Scrooge’s gravestone. This stone completes the transformation of
Scrooge, showing him of how his life might end if he does not become a
new man.

Charles Dickens, though not orthodox in his Christian
faith, was certainly familiar enough with the Bible to have known the
meaning of the name Ebenezer. Given this knowledge and his attention to
character names, it seems to me likely that he chose the name “Ebenezer”
quite intentionally. Ebenezer Scrooge was not only a man with a
“squeezing, wrenching, grasping” character. He was also to serve as a
monument for readers of A Christmas Carol. Dickens intended
Ebenezer Scrooge to remind us of things we ought not forget, lest we end
up like Jacob Marley and the other spirits who walked the earth in
sorrow, dragging the heavy chains they forged in life.

What Does Scrooge Remind Us Of?

Ebenezer Scrooge reminds us of several things. First and most obviously, he reminds us of Christmas. One cannot read A Christmas Carol without renewing one’s excitement for this unique holiday. As I have noted earlier in this series, when Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol,
Christmas was by now means a major or beloved holiday. Dickens used the
“help-stone” of Ebenezer Scrooge to promote the importance of
Christmas.

But for Dickens, the principal value of Christmas was
not to celebrate the birth of the Son of God into the world. Rather,
Christmas was a time for enjoying friends and family. Moreover, and most
of all, it was an occasion for generosity. Dickens’ own estimation of
Christmas appears in Stave One on the lips of Scrooge’s nephew, Fred,
who says:

But I am sure I have always thought of
Christmas time, when it has come round–apart from the veneration due to
its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart
from that–as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time;
the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and
women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to
think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to
the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.

As the story of A Christmas Carol plays out, this theme is emphasized time and again. Thus, for Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge is an ebenezer
who reminds us, not only to celebrate Christmas, but also to do so
through being generous to the poor, especially to poor children.

What Made Scrooge Scrooge?

If you call somebody a Scrooge today, everybody will know what you mean.
You’re implying that someone is miserly, grumpy, and selfish,
especially but not only during Christmastime.

Soon I want to
examine what made Ebenezer Scrooge change from being, well, Scrooge, to
being a generous man who loved both people and Christmas. But before I
get to this, I want to consider what turned the human being named
Ebenezer Scrooge into the archetypal mean-spirited miser.

I
realize this question is more of a 21st century question than a 19th
century question. It’s only been in recent times that we’ve become
fascinated, one might say, obsessed by psychological causes of behavior.
Yet, even though Charles Dickens didn’t supply a lengthy biography of
Scrooge, we can nevertheless discover some of what made him the man he
became. This knowledge may also help us to understand what unmade and
remade him.

Scrooge’s Difficult Childhood

Most of what formed the soul of Ebenezer Scrooge appears in Stave 2 of A Christmas Carol,
when the Ghost of Christmas Past shows Scrooge images of his past
experiences. Our very first view of the younger Scrooge comes as he sits
alone in his boarding school on Christmas Eve. He is “a solitary child,
neglected by his friends.” Seeing his young, abandoned self, the grown
up Scrooge sobs with a peculiar kind of empathy. The only joy in this
lonely boy’s life comes from fantasy books. (Photo: The first page of
the original edition of A Christmas Carol.)

The
next scene from Scrooge’s past begins, once again, when he is abandoned
by the other boys who had gone home for Christmas. But this time
Ebenezer receives a surprise visit from his sister, Fan. She brings the
good news that Ebenezer will be coming home for Christmas, and even
beyond that. Here’s a bit of the dialogue:

‘Home, little Fan?’ returned the boy.

‘Yes!’
said the child, brimful of glee. ‘Home, for good and all. Home, for
ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home’s
like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to
bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home;
and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And
you’re to be a man!’ said the child, opening her eyes,’and are never to
come back here; but first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long,
and have the merriest time in all the world.’

In this short paragraph, we learn some crucial facts about Ebenezer Scrooge’s sorry childhood:

â€¢ He had been sent away from home to a boarding school.
â€¢ His father used to be cruel.
â€¢ He had previously been left alone at school for Christmas.
â€¢ His mother was dead (implied, since she isn’t mentioned at all).

These
bits of data begin to explain why Scrooge became Scrooge. But the next
scene in Scrooge’s past shows that he hadn’t been completely corrupted
by his difficult childhood. In this scene, he is serving as an
apprentice for a fun-loving, generous man named Fezziwig. Ebenezer
appears to have thrived under Fezziwig’s tutelage, and also been close
to his fellow apprentice, Dick Wilkins. We have no hint of the selfish,
Christmas-hating man whom Scrooge became.

Scrooge’s Young Adulthood

Yet
something happened after Scrooge’s apprenticeship under Fezziwig that
changed his heart for the worse. We learn about this from the next scene
in Scrooge’s past. There his fiancÃ©e informs Ebenezer that she is to
break their engagement. Why? Because “another idol has displaced me,”
she explains. And this idol is “a golden one,” which Dickens calls
“Gain” and we would call “Greed.” The dialogue continues:

[Scrooge
says,] “There is nothing on which [the world] is so hard as poverty;
and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the
pursuit of wealth!”

“You fear the world too much,” she answered,
gently. “All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond
the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations
fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have
I not?”

Scrooge has become the tight-fisted,
hard-as-nails man who cares only about financial gain. What has driven
him to this? Partly it’s his recognition of how difficult poverty is.
This came for Scrooge, as it did for Charles Dickens, from his own
bitter experience. And it has led him to be consumed, not just by
materialism, but also by fear. He is so afraid of poverty’s lash that he
has abandoned his “nobler aspirations,” including the desire to marry
the woman he loves and who had once loved him.

No doubt the
rejection Scrooge experienced from his fiancÃ©e hardened his heart still
further. Love itself was to be scorned, which is exactly what Scrooge
had done in the Stave 1, when his nephew admitted to marrying because he
fell in love: “‘Because you fell in love!’ growled Scrooge, as if that
were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry
Christmas.”

The hard-hearted, grasping Scrooge found strength and
solace in the social philosophy of his day, which thought of the poor
as deserving their sorry fate, and even as being a threat to the
well-being of the world. When, in Stave 1, Scrooge rejects the request
of the two “portly gentlemen” for a charitable gift for the poor, he
suggests that the poor might die “and decrease the surplus population.”
Here Scrooge echoes the views of the influential economist Thomas
Malthus, whose theories would have allowed a man like Scrooge to defend
his greed and lack of compassion for the poor.

What Made Scrooge Scrooge?

So,
what made Scrooge Scrooge? You start with an unhappy childhood: mother
dead; cruel father; sent away from home to overly strict boarding
schools; no friends among classmates; only solace in books; the only
student not going home for Christmas. Then you throw in a strong fear of
poverty along with a growing love for the safety represented by
material gain. Add the rejection of a fiancÃ©e. And top it off with
popular philosophy that praises acquisitiveness and derides the poor as
deserving of their condition. What have you got? Scrooge! Scrooge: whose
heart has been squeezed by the impact of a sorry life and his own sorry
choices. Scrooge: who squeezes his hand around the only thing that
gives him meaning and security in life . . . money.

So if this
explains, at least in part, how Scrooge became Scrooge, now the question
is: What caused Scrooge to change? To this question I will turn in my
next post in this series.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave I

As A Christmas Carol begins, Ebenezer Scrooge is one of the most
unlikable characters in all of literature. Here, once again, is the full
version of Charles Dickens’s classic description:

Oh!
But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. a squeezing,
wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and
sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire;
secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within
him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his
cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and
spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head,
and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low
temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days;
and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

Don’t you
love that description? Now there’s a man in need of an attitude
adjustment, or, indeed, a life adjustment. And that’s exactly what
happened to Ebenezer Scrooge, and in less than 100 pages! By the end of
the story, here’s the new Scrooge:

Scrooge was better
than his word [to Bob Cratchit concerning help for his family]. He did
it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a
second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good
a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or
borough, in the good old world. . . . [A]nd it was always said of him,
that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the
knowledge.

What in the world can explain such a transformation? Why was Scrooge able to change? How did it happen?

We
might begin by saying that nothing in this world can account for the
transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge. He needed, and indeed, received
supernatural assistance. The change in Scrooge is a direct result of the
impact of four ghosts upon him, the spirit of his departed colleague
Jacob Marley and the spirits of Christmas past, present, and future. The
metamorphosis of a man like Ebenezer Scrooge requires other-worldly
influence. In this regard, Ebenezer Scrooge is like his literary
forefather Gabriel Grub (see my post entitled “The First Ebenezer
Scrooge”), though Scrooge was haunted by ghosts rather than goblins.
And, unlike poor Grub, Scrooge didn’t get physically pummeled into
submission. The ghosts worked on Scrooge’s heart, not his body.

It
wasn’t the mere fact of ghostly visitors that changed Scrooge, however,
as if he had been scared into repentance. Rather, it was what he
experienced with the spirits that made all the difference. Indeed, the
ghosts weren’t really necessary for Scrooge’s transformation. It could
have all been just a dream with the same result, although would have
been much less fun.

The Impact of the Spirit of Jacob Marley

Before Scrooge is
visited by Jacob Marley, he shows not the slightest bit of kindness or
tenderness. His heart is hard. His focus is utterly self-centered. He
has nothing to offer others but scorn and an occasional “Humbug!” Inhis
interaction with Marley’s ghost, however, Scrooge first shows the
tiniest morsel of positive feeling to anyone.

When the ghost of
Jacob Marley visits Scrooge, he at first doubts the veracity of his
visitor. In one of my favorite lines from A Christmas Carol, Scrooge
argues that his vision is probably “an undigested bit of beef, a blot of
mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There’s
more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!” Yet with loud
cries and a horrifying change of appearance, Marley’s ghost prevails
upon Scrooge’s good sense, who finally believes that the ghost is real.

Scrooge’s
first response to this recognition is fear and trembling. His fear
grows when he learns that he is destined to wear even heavier
post-mortem chains than the onerous ones that Marley himself is forced
to carry. “Speak comfort to me, Jacob,” Scrooge begs, in his first real
demonstration of some sort of human vulnerability. Yet Marley can offer
no real comfort. (Photo: “Marley’s Ghost” by John Leech, from the first
edition of A Christmas Carol).

Here
we catch a glimpse of a speck of tenderness in Ebenezer Scrooge, though
it is completely self-centered. He desires comfort because he is
terrified to learn about the Hell that awaits him after death. Thus, the
frozen heart of Scrooge begins to thaw just a smidgen, even if his
feeling is still egocentric.

As Marley continues, he explains
that he has come to warn Scrooge so that he might escape Marley’s dire
fate, “a chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.” To this Scrooge
responds, “You were always a good friend to me, . . . Thank’ee.” Here is
the first bit of tenderheartedness directed by Scrooge to someone other
than himself.

What begins to thaw the frosty heart of Ebenezer
Scrooge? It’s the fact that Marley has acted to help Scrooge. It’s
Marley’s gift of undeserved kindness that first touches Scrooge’s soul.

Theological Reflections

Undeserved kindness. Theologians
call this grace. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Marley
extended grace to his former partner. In no way did Marley owe Scrooge
anything. And there’s no reason to believe that Marley stood to gain
anything for himself in helping Scrooge, other than, perhaps, the sense
of having made a positive difference in Scrooge’s life (and afterlife).
Moreover, in no way whatsoever had Scrooge done anything to deserve
Marley’s help. Marley’s intervention was simply an act of grace. In
fact, it was a demonstration of what theologians call prevenient grace.

Prevenient
grace is, simply, grace that comes before anything we do. Prevenient
grace takes the initiative. It gets the ball of transformation rolling.
The fact that God’s grace is prevenient makes all the difference in the
world. It means that we cannot do anything to earn God’s favor, nor must
we. It means that God’s favor is given first, and everything we do for
good is in some measure a response to that prevenient grace.

Although
Dickens was not an enthusiastic Christian-his own faith seemed to be
more of a romantic, deistic, Unitarian variety-his anthropology bore
much in common with his evangelical contemporaries (of whom he was not
particularly fond). According to both Dickens and the evangelicals,
human transformation comes as a result of grace, grace that is
communicated through a supernatural agent. Of course in the Christian
case, grace comes from God, not a human ghost, and is delivered through
the Holy Spirit, not the spirit of a dead colleague. Jacob Marley
doesn’t appear in Scripture when I last checked. So when it comes to
theology, A Christmas Carol isn’t especially Christian. But Dickens’s
understanding of human nature is surprisingly similar to the Christian
perspective in some ways. We change in response to grace, with the help
of a supernatural spirit.

Though Scrooge’s initial experience of
grace softens his stony heart just a bit, it hardly transforms it. This
arduous task remains for the spirits of Christmas past, present, and
future. To their work I’ll return in my next post in this series.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave II

In my last post, I began to examine A Christmas Carol to discover
why Ebenezer Scrooge changed so dramatically. I showed that we see the
tiniest hint of his transformation in his interaction with the ghost of
Jacob Marley, whose graciousness to Scrooge elicited a morsel of
gratitude from the old miser. Yet Marley’s impact would be most keenly
felt, not in his visit, but in his sending three other spirits to
“haunt” Scrooge.

The Impact of the Ghost of Christmas Past

The Ghost of
Christmas Past is a strange apparition who explains the purpose of his
visit as Scrooge’s “welfare,” or, indeed, his “reclamation.” This
process begins with an easily overlooked but crucial interchange between
Scrooge and the Spirit. When the Spirit clasps Scrooge’s arm and begins
to lead him towards the window, Scrooge resists, saying, “I am a
mortal, and liable to fall.” Notice carefully the spirit’s response:
“‘Bear but a touch of my hand there,’ said the Spirit, laying it upon
his heart, ‘and you shall be upheld in more than this!'” The Spirit
touches, not just Scrooge’s arm, but also his heart. And Scrooge would
be upheld, not only in his supernatural travels, but also in the opening
of his tightly-shut heart.

Then the Spirit magically transports
Scrooge to the place where he spent his boyhood. The sights and sounds
of his youth begin to soften Scrooge’s heart. Yet the Spirit has only
started his transforming effort. Next Scrooge sees his fellow students
merrily on their way to celebrate Christmas. The school is deserted, all
except for one boy, “a solitary child, neglected by his friends.” It is
Scrooge, of course, left alone with nothing to cheer him but the
characters from his beloved books. The old man weeps bitter tears for
the child he once was. For the first time in a long time he feels
compassion for someone else, even if that “someone else” is really just
an earlier version of himself. Yet, as he feels for himself as a boy,
Scrooge also shows the first glimmer of care for another human being as
well: “There was a boy singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night,”
he explains to the ghost. “I should like to have given him something.”
Ironically, Scrooge had almost given that boy something – a rap with his
ruler!

On some Christmas Eve following the time of his isolation
in the school, the young Scrooge receives a visit from Fan, his beloved
sister. (Dickens himself had a sister named Fanny.) Fan informs
Ebenezer that he can come home for Christmas. (Years later Fan dies,
leaving behind a child-the nephew Fred whom Scrooge had so badly
mistreated only hours before.) (Photo: “Mr. Fezziwig’s Ball” by John
Leech, from the first edition of A Christmas Carol.)

After
this tender family scene, the Ghost of Christmas Past takes Scrooge to
the warehouse of Old Fezziwig, to whom Scrooge had once been
apprenticed. The mere sight of his generous old master brings joy to
Scrooge’s heart. Then, as he witnesses a grand Christmas party, “Scrooge
had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the
scene. . . .” When the Ghost challenges Fezziwig’s actions, Scrooge
defends his generosity. And, once again, this begins to be translated
into a desire to be generous in his own life: “I should like to be able
to say a word or two to my clerk just now,” Scrooge says.

The
next scene is not a happy one for Scrooge. He watches as his fiancÃ©e,
Belle, breaks their engagement, recognizing that Ebenezer loves money
far more than he loves her. Then the Ghost shows Scrooge one more scene,
in which a Belle is much older, with a husband and daughter. Their
family love stands in stark contrast to Scrooge’s own miserly
loneliness. At this, Scrooge begs to be removed. “I cannot bear it!” he
exclaims.

How Do the Events of Stave II Transform Scrooge?

How does
all of this help to transform the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge? His journey
starts at a most curious place, with Scrooge looking upon himself as a
lonely child. It’s as if Dickens realizes that even hard-hearted people
might have the tiniest soft spot for themselves and their own suffering.
One might almost be tempted to say that Scrooge is acting out a sort of
psychological Golden Rule, loving himself so that he might love others
as well. From a psychotherapeutic angle, Scrooge is getting in touch
with his inner child.

The vision of the Fezziwigs’ party not only
lures Scrooge into a bit of vicarious celebration, but also it forces
him to reexamine his own values. Mr. Fezziwig, whom the old Scrooge
continues to hold in high regard, saw fit to spend a bit of money for
the sake of others. “The happiness he gives,” Scrooge insists, “is quite
as great as if it cost a fortune.” There’s more to life than money, the
old miser begins to realize for the first time in a long time.

The
Ghost of Christmas past, beyond conjuring up within Scrooge feelings of
nostalgia and celebration, helps him see-and feel-the harsh contrast
between love and loneliness. Love figures prominently in his boyhood
encounter with his sister Fan. Remembering her love for him-and his for
her-makes Scrooge’s grouchy rejection of Fan’s son Fred all the more
grievous. Moreover, the scenes featuring Belle press into Scrooge’s
heart the lack of love in his own life. Where Scrooge had once felt
genuine love (from and for Fan, from and for Belle), he had chosen to
cut himself off from this love, whether with his former fiancÃ©e, or with
Fred. He realizes he has made poor choices for his life, and he starts
to wish for something better.

It’s interesting to me that Scrooge
doesn’t reject all of this as a bunch of maudlin nonsense. What, I
wonder, gives him the ability to see, really to see, his life as it
truly was? And what gives him the ability to feel emotions that had for
so long been absent from his heart? Yes, seeing himself as a hurting
young boy might very well have opened Scrooge’s heart a bit. But this
might not have happened were in not for the earlier intervention of the
Spirit, when he touched Scrooge’s heart and promised that he would be
“upheld” in more than just their other-worldly travel.

Theological Reflections

What can transform a stony heart?
For Charles Dickens, the answer has several layers. Nostalgia for the
past seems to help. Looking afresh at one’s life makes a difference.
Supernatural assistance contributes. But, at the core, love changes
people. Love, not of the romantic sort, but of the compassionate,
self-giving variety, transforms hearts. When Scrooge witnesses the love
of his sister Fan and his master Fezziwig, something happens inside of
him. And when he sees how he spurned the love of his former fiancÃ©e and
how happy she is with a loving husband and daughter, Scrooge realizes
how much he has lost be shutting his heart to love.

Here, once
again, Dickens’s anthropology is virtually Christian. Christians believe
that ultimate transformation in life comes as we experience God’s love
for us given through Jesus Christ. Over a century before Charles Dickens
wrote A Christmas Carol, another Englishman had something to say
about the power of love to transform one’s life. Consider how these
words of hymn writer Isaac Watts express something like what happened to
Ebenezer Scrooge:

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride. . . .

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

For
the Christian, the deepest and most transforming kind of love is
celebrated, not at Christmas, but on Good Friday. Christmas is what
makes Good Friday possible, as the Son of God chooses to love by
enduring the cross.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave III

When we last left Ebenezer Scrooge, he had just finished being visited
by the first of three Christmas Spirits, the Ghost of Christmas Past. He
fell into bed, exhausted. At the beginning of Stave III, Scrooge
awakes, ready for the visit of the next of the three Spirits. This
visitor is the Ghost of Christmas Present, a giant being who exudes the
extravagant joy of Christmas (picture Hagrid in a Santa Suit having just
eaten way too many Christmas cookies). Though at first hesitant to look
at this Spirit, soon Scrooge shows how his heart has begun to change:
“Spirit,” said Scrooge submissively, “conduct me where you will. I went
forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working
now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.”
(“The Ghost of Christmas Present” by John Leech from the first edition
of A Christmas Carol.)

Like
his older brother, the Ghost of Christmas Present shows Ebenezer
Scrooge many scenes of Christmas. Here Dickens is at his “Dickensiest”
in lavish descriptions of food and festivity, all of which accentuate
the joyfulness of Christmas. At first an observer of such delights, in
time Scrooge begins to participate in the Christmas games as if he were
actually present in the celebrations. He does this most of all as he
watches the Christmas party of his nephew, Fred, who, in spite of having
been mistreated by his uncle the day before, nevertheless wishes
Scrooge a Merry Christmas.

What has turned Scrooge into a man
who delights in Christmas parties? His observation of genuine
celebration leads, it seems, to an openhearted desire to become an
enthusiastic celebrator. Dickens believes that festivity, especially of
the pure-hearted variety, is contagious.

The Impact of the Crachit Family

Yet what touches Scrooge’s
heart in Stave III isn’t merely his looking upon numerous Christmas
parties. One scene in particular has special impact upon his soul. It
comes as he observes the family of his clerk, Bob Cratchit. Though this
family has little in the way of money, they abound in love and joy. The
center of their passion is Tiny Tim, the Cratchit’s sickly little boy,
who walked with a crutch and was supported by “an iron frame.” This
sweet boy may have a crippled body, but his heart is bigger and stronger
than most. He’s the one, after all, who offers the generous wish: “God
bless us every one!”

Viewing Tiny Tim in his weakened state, Scrooge asks the Spirit “if Tiny Tim will live.”

“If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future,” the Spirit responds, “the child will die.”

“No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.”

To
which the Spirit quotes Scrooges own words from Stave 1: “If he be like
to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”
Confronted in this way, “Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words
quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.”

Precisely
at this point in the story, Bob Cratchit offers a toast to Mr. Scrooge,
“the Founder of the Feast.” Even though his family is none too happy to
drink to Mr. Scrooge’s health, they dutifully follow their father’s
lead. Thus compacted into a minute’s worth of action, Scrooge feels
compassion for Tiny Tim, learns that he will die unless something
unexpected happens, is confronted by his former hard-heartedness,
repents profoundly, and then witnesses the extraordinary grace of his
mistreated clerk, Bob Cratchit. Now that’s a formula for personal
transformation!

Dickens uses Tiny Tim, perhaps more than any
other character, to warm the icy heart of Ebenezer Scrooge. This
reflects Dickens’s own experience of being touched by children,
especially their suffering. I noted earlier in this series that the
first sign of tenderness in Scrooge comes as he observes his own
childhood loneliness. This prepares him to be compassionate with other
children. Dickens once wrote to a friend, “Certainly there is nothing
more touching than the suffering of a child, nothing more overwhelming” (Annotated Christmas Carol, p. 97).

The Strange Ending of Stave III

Dickens’ conviction about
the suffering of children no doubt explains the bizarre and unexpected
conclusion to Stave III. As the Ghost of Christmas Present nears the end
of his mission to save Scrooge, he reveals two children hiding beneath
his robe. They are “wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable.”
Who are these emaciated beings? “This boy is Ignorance. This girl is
Want.” Their presence calls forth compassion from Scrooge, who asks,
“Have they no refuge or resource?” Once again the spirit hurls Scrooge’s
own words back in his face: “Are there no prisons? Are there no
workhouses?” And with this, the Ghost of Christmas Past disappears along
with his pitiful children.

So what in Stave III contributes to
the transformation of Scrooge’s heart? I’ll answer this question in my
next post and add some theological reflections.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave III (Part 2)

In yesterday’s post, I began considering what in Stave III contributes
to the transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge’s heart. I summarized the
events of Stave 3, focusing especially on Scrooge’s response to children
in need: Tiny Tim of the Cratchit family and the two wretched children
who hide under the robe of the Ghost of Christmas Present. Today I want
to offer some conclusions and reflections on the events of Stave III.

What in Stave III Contributes to the Transformation of Scrooge?

What
in this stave contributes to the transformation of Scrooge’s heart?
Partly, it’s the observation of Christmas celebrations, especially those
of common folk, most of all the poor, who, in spite of their material
deprivation, enjoy the jovial spirit of Christmas. (Photo: John Leech’s
drawing of Want and Ignorance in the first edition of A Christmas Carol.)

Yet
even more powerful than this observation is Scrooge’s vision of
children who suffer (Tiny Tim and the two children who hide under the
robes of the Ghost of Christmas Present, Want and Ignorance). Like
Dickens, Scrooge finds himself moved by the plight of a child in need.
Yet the Spirit of Christmas Present doesn’t merely allow Scrooge’s heart
to be touched by childhood pain. He also confronts Scrooge twice with
his own words of scorn for the poor. In response to the first of these,
Scrooge repents with much sadness. We don’t know of how he responds to
the second confrontation, however, because the Ghost of Christmas Yet to
Come Makes his appearance before Dickens can relate Scrooge’s feelings.

In
Stave III, Scrooge also witnesses people whom he has treated poorly
extending grace to him. His nephew, Fred, and his clerk, Bob, both drink
to Scrooge on Christmas and wish him well. The scene at Fred’s party
ends this way:

“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
to the old man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t
take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!”

Uncle
Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he
would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them
in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time.

Grace is invading Ebenezer Scrooge’s heart.

Theological Reflections

Sometimes I think Dickens has too
much confidence in the power of celebration to thaw Scrooge’s heart.
Yet, I have seen this sort of thing happen. For example, during my
tenure as Senior Pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church, perhaps the
strangest worship service of the year occurred on the Sunday following
our Vacation Bible School week. In our Sunday worship services, worship
leaders dressed in costume and led children’s songs with lots of hand
motions. The children were exuberant in their worship and predictably
wiggly and noisy during times of prayer and Scripture reading. The
“sermon” was a dramatic sketch in which I and a couple of my colleagues
are dressed up as wacky characters who inevitably discovered the truth
of the Gospel in spite of our silliness.

Children
loved VBS Sunday. No surprise here. But what about the grown ups? When
we first did VBS Sunday this way, I was afraid that some of our more
sedate and refined adults would be upset. Was I ever wrong! They loved
it just as much as the children, in some ways even more. There was
something about the unsophisticated celebrations of children that
allowed even very grown up people to rejoice, sometimes even clapping
their hands or joining the children in their hand motions during songs.
So, given the right circumstances, I do think that celebration,
especially that of children, can be contagious. (Photo: My partners and I
are VBS pirates. Arrrrgh!)

I also agree with Dickens that the
suffering of children, perhaps even more than their celebration, can
open hearts in a unique way. Consider, for example, the case of African
children orphaned because of AIDS. Their tragedy has touched the hearts
of millions, even people who might have been reticent to care about the
HIV/AIDS crisis because of its association with sexual immorality.

Moreover, World Vision
and other charitable organizations have found that people will give
generously to help hungry children even when they might be less inclined
to help equally hungry adults. If you go to World Vision’s website,
you’ll find pictures of struggling children, along with ways to
contribute to their well-being. When I visited the website today, a
giant headline on the page read: “SPONSORING A CHILD is the greatest
give you can give this Christmas.” But you won’t find any pictures of
adults in similar distress. This is not an accident. Partly it reflects
World Vision’s laudable focus on children. It also reflects a realistic
judgment of what moves people to give. I’m not criticizing World Vision
for this, please understand. In fact, my family and I regularly
contribute to World Vision. If you are looking for a place to make a
special year-end gift, I can think of no better one. My point is simply
that children in need can open the hearts of people like nobody or
nothing else.

Dickens is right to realize that compassion alone
won’t change people’s hearts, however. The Ghost of Christmas Present
rightly confronts Scrooge with his own hard-heartedness, that which
Christians call sin. Scrooge needs, not just an infusion of kindness,
but a complete change of heart. And this requires repentance and
reformation.

Once again, I see Dickens’s understanding of human
nature to be much in accord with Christian anthropology. Christians
believe that the transformation of human beings requires repentance. In
fact, we believe that a Spirit, in this case, the Holy Spirit of God,
brings conviction of sin so that we might turn to God (see John
16:7-11).

The complete transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge doesn’t
happen at the end of Stave III, however. More is still needed. To this I
will turn in my next post in this series.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave IV

The final Spirit to visit Ebenezer Scrooge is the “Ghost of Christmas
Yet To Come” or simply the “Ghost of the Future.” This silent Spirit,
shrouded in black, takes the mythic form of death. Not surprisingly, the
visions it reveals to Scrooge also focus upon death and its meaning.

The
largest portion of Stave 4, which is shorter than Staves 2 and 3,
describes various reactions to the death of some unknown figure. At
first, several men of business talk about this man’s death with curious
indifference. Then Scrooge observes three people who robbed the dead man
and are selling their booty in creepy part of town. Of course the
reader guesses that the deceased victim is none other than Scrooge
himself, but this doesn’t occur to Scrooge at this stage in the story,
or, at any rate, he is unwilling to acknowledge what he senses. In fact,
when he stands next to the covered body of the dead man, Scrooge is
unable to lift the covering and discover whose body lies beneath it. He
just can’t bring himself to face his own mortality.

The most
touching scene in Stave 4 involves the Cratchit family, minus Tiny Tim,
who has just died. Their shared grief is almost tangible as they try
nevertheless to enjoy a bit of Christmas cheer. Even so, Bob Cratchit
breaks down with sadness, crying out “My little child!” Before Scrooge
leaves the Cratchits, the family members resolve never to forget Tiny
Tim, whom the narrator addresses: “Spirit of Tiny Tim, they childish
essence was from God.” (Photo: “The Last of the Spirits.” Illustration
by John Leech in the first edition of A Christmas Carol.)

In
the final scene of this stave, Scrooge demands that the Spirit reveal
the identity of the mysterious dead man. Soon Scrooge stands in a
deserted graveyard, directed by the Spirit’s pointing finger to a
neglected grave, the stone of which reads “Ebenezer Scrooge.” The
horrified Scrooge realizes the sum total of his life, which amounts to
zero (or less). He will die unloved and unnoticed, unless he chooses a
different course of living from that moment on.

This is exactly
what Scrooge resolves to do, even though the Spirit refuses to assure
him that his life is redeemable: “Spirit!” he cried, tight clutching at
its robe, “hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I
must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past
all hope? . . . I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it
all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The
Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the
lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on
this stone!”

Yet the Spirit doesn’t speak, and, as Scrooge attempts to hold him, the Spirit turns into a bedpost, Scrooge’s own bedpost.

One might wonder why Dickens associates the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come with death. Michael Hearn, in The Annotated Christmas Carol, cites something Dickens wrote eight years after A Christmas Carol was first published:

“Of
all days in the year, we will turn our faces towards that City upon
Christmas Day, and from its silent hosts bring those we loved, among us.
City of the Dead, in the blessed name wherein we are gathered together
at this time, and in the Presence that is here among us according to the
promise, we will receive, and not dismiss, they people who are dear to
us!” (Hearn, p. 126)

Dickens seems to have experienced
Christmas in the way many others do, as a time for remembering loved
ones who have died. Therefore Christmas itself can lead to the
remembrance of death. What appears to have altered Scrooge’s character,
however, is not merely the fact of his mortality, but also the fact that
his sad death accentuates the worthlessness of his life. The
revelations of the Spirit make clear to Scrooge the emptiness of his
life as seen from a post mortem perspective.

Theological Reflections

Death,
it seems to me, does have a way of refocusing our vision, helping us
see what matters most in life. I’ve frequently had this experience as I
participate in memorial services, something I have done quite often as a
pastor. Considering the death of someone else and the things said about
that person after death cause me to examine the value of my own life.
When my days on this earth have passed, will I have lived my life to the
fullest? What will people say about me when my life has passed?

Moreover,
confronting one’s own mortality can, indeed, lead to personal
transformation. I think of people I’ve known who have had serious
cancer, and who, in the aftermath, have decided to live with new
priorities. Yet Christians believe that moving from death to life isn’t
something we can will into existence, but requires the regenerating work
of God. Indeed, we all need a Spirit, not a Christmas Spirit, but the
Holy Spirit of God, to give us new life.

Finally, the theme of
“death within Christmas” is also central to Christian theology. Though
we celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas, we remember that his birth
was a precursor to his death on the cross. It’s common to interpret the
gift of myrrh as a symbolic foretaste of Christ’s death, since myrrh
was used for embalming (see John 19:39). So, from a Christian point of
view, the presence of death in A Christmas Carol makes sense.

Evidence of Scrooge’s Changed Life: Stave V

When we left Ebenezer Scrooge in my last post of this series, he had
come to the end of the visits by the Spirits of Christmas past, present,
and future. In response to these visits, he promised to be a changed
man:

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep
it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the
lessons that they teach.”

Stave V, the final section of A Christmas Carol, reveals that Scrooge wasn’t lying or exaggerating. He was indeed a new man.

The
first evidence of his transformation is his giddy enjoyment of life.
He’s almost crazy with joy, especially when he finds out that it’s
Christmas day. This stands in stark contrast to the gruff negativity of
the former Scrooge.

Apart from silly excitement, what is the
first evidence Dickens supplies of Scrooge’s renewal? Generosity, of
course. Charity. Given what we’ve seen earlier in this series, namely
Dickens’s association of Christmas with helping the poor, we are not
surprised that the new Scrooge jumps at the chance to help the family of
his clerk, Bob Cratchit, by sending them a giant turkey for their
Christmas dinner. Calling this “charity” doesn’t quite get the feel of
Scrooge’s action, however. “Playful charity” might be a better
description, since he intends to surprise the Cratchits and not even
reveal his identity as their patron.

Soon, however, Scrooge’s
benevolence takes a more serious and costly turn. As he’s walking the
streets, wishing everyone he sees a “Merry Christmas,” Scrooge spies the
two “portly gentlemen” who had visited him the previous day, seeking
his help for the poor. That was not a pleasant encounter, of course,
since Scrooge dismissed the men without the tiniest gift. But the new
Scrooge not only greets the two gentlemen warmly, but also offers a
surprisingly large financial gift.

The next evidence of Scrooge’s
transformation is easily lost if one reads too quickly. It’s not often
picked up in dramatic presentations of A Christmas Carol, though
it figures prominently in the 1999 film starring Patrick Stewart as
Scrooge. Dickens writes simply, “He went to church.” Since we don’t have
more to go on than this, we shouldn’t imagine that Scrooge has
experienced some sort of religious conversion. Yet Dickens hints that,
in some way or another, Scrooge has a new interest in God, or at least
in religious observance at Christmas time.

Following church,
Scrooge visits his nephew Fred, asking to join him and his wife for
Christmas dinner. Together they experience, in Dickens’s inimitable
description: “Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity,
won-der-ful happiness!”

The last scene in A Christmas Carol
mirrors the opening scene, with Scrooge in his office. He hopes to
catch Bob Cratchit coming in late, and his wish is fulfilled. Scrooge
uses this opportunity to scare poor Bob half to death with his newfound
generosity and Christmas joy. He promises to raise Bob’s salary and help
his family. (Photo: John Leech’s illustration from the first edition of
A Christmas Carol. Scrooge and Bob Cratchit enjoy some “smoking bishop” as they discuss Cratchit’s job and family.)

The closing paragraphs of A Christmas Carol
explain that “Scrooge was better than his word.” He became like a
second father to Tiny Tim. Moreover, he “became as good a friend, as
good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any
other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.” Yes, from
then on Scrooge “knew how to keep Christmas well,” but his
transformation wasn’t limited to one day or one season. Rather, he
fulfilled his promise “keep Christmas all year,” both in his joviality
and in his generosity.

So what evidence do we have of Scrooge’s
transformation? Most simply, we see joy, generosity, and childlike
playfulness. Earlier in this series I explained how central children
were to Dickens’ heart, especially his heart for the poor. The suffering
of children touched him more than any other suffering. At the end of A Christmas Carol,
Dickens shows that if people allow their hearts to be transformed by
children, not only will they care for needy children, but also they will
become childlike. Even Scrooge’s generosity has an innocent, playful
dimension as he surprises both Bob Cratchit and the portly gentlemen.

Theological Reflections

Once
more, I’m impressed with the extent to which Dickens’ understanding of
human life is similar to my own Christian point of view. Transformation,
for Dickens and for the Christian, has both internal and external
aspects. It’s a matter both of feeling and of action. The new Scrooge
feels new. But he also takes tangible steps to act in new ways in the
world, principally through financial generosity and general kindness.
This is the sort of thing that happens when a person is transformed, not
by Christmas Spirits, but by the Spirit of God.

Though I don’t
want to be a humbug sort of person, I should say that we have no
evidence that Scrooge made any attempt to right the social wrongs of his
day apart from his commitment to private generosity. We don’t see
Scrooge becoming a crusader for the right of the poor to, say, a decent
education. Of course we don’t see much of anything about Scrooge’s
transformed life. I’m simply pointing out that Scrooge’s generosity,
however laudatory, is not explicitly tied to any effort to help the poor
in more structural ways. His transformation may have changed his
private relationships, but it may also have left his politics intact.

I
do think Dickens is right in his notion that a softened heart is a
childlike heart. Jesus himself says that one must become like a child in
order to enter the kingdom of heaven. Though I’m pretty sure he wasn’t
thinking of playfulness at Christmas, Jesus rightly saw that a life
renewed by God has an essential childlike aspect to it. The more our
hearts are touched by the Spirit of God, the more we are able to be like
children: trusting, free, expressive, spontaneous, enthusiastic,
joyful. I’d like to be this sort of person, even more in 2011 than I was
in 2010. I don’t need any ghostly visitors, however. Yet I do need to
pay more attention to the third member of the Trinity, the one we used
to call the Holy Ghost. The Spirit of God is able to do in reality what
the Spirits of Christmas were able to do in fiction, and much, much
more.

What Changed Ebenezer Scrooge? What Changes Us?

I’m finally ready to answer the question that has guided most of this series on A Christmas Carol: Why did Ebenezer Scrooge change? Today I want to sum up what we’ve discovered and make some connections to our own experience.

Transformation begins when something interrupts our ordinary experience.

For
at least a couple dozen years, Ebenezer Scrooge had been a committed
grouch, miser, and Christmas-hater. But then something interrupted his
otherwise ordinary experience. In his case, the interruption was
supernatural: the spirit of Jacob Marley and the three Spirits of
Christmas past, present, and future. These Spirits forced Scrooge out of
his rut and propelled him along a life-changing path. (Photo: An
autographed manuscript of A Christmas Carol. From the Morgan Library and Museum.)

I’ve
seen this sort of thing happen time and again in life. People are going
along their merry way when all of a sudden something causes them to
veer off their established path. Sometimes it’s an unexpected blessing: a
new job, a new love, a new friend. Often, perhaps most commonly, the
catalyst for change is something unwelcome, at least at first, such as
cancer, marital conflict, or being laid off.

Transformation comes through pain.

Throughout
Ebenezer Scrooge’s momentous night, he frequently felt pain: the pain
of having been a lonely boy, the pain of his broken engagement, the pain
of suffering children, the pain of his own wasted life. This pain was
essential to Scrooge’s transformation in a number of ways. For one
thing, it warmed his frozen heart, helping him to feel things had had
not felt for ages. Yet pain also caused Scrooge to desire a different
life, a life filled with the joys of living.

In my pastoral
experience, people are rarely interested in renewal when they’re happy
with their lives. When everything’s great, they’re understandably
pleased to stay on their familiar course. But if that course leads to
suffering, then they’re all of a sudden interested in God.

Sometimes,
unfortunately, that pain-driven interest is short-lived. I think of a
couple who had been irregularly involved in my church in Irvine. When
they first started attending many years ago, it was because their
marriage was on the rocks. But when God helped them find healing, they
were happy to return to life apart from Christian community. Then,
several years later, the husband had severe heart problems, ones that
might have been fatal. Once more, he and his wife were eagerly involved
in church. But when the surgery was successful and life got back to
normal, this couple stopped showing up at church. I fully expect that
they’ll return to church when the next crisis hits, but not in the
meanwhile. Pain alone doesn’t forge lasting change in people, however,
though it surely can help.

Transformation comes through children.

Scrooge
is changed because he sees children in a new light, joining in their
celebration and pitying their suffering. The latter was especially
significant for Charles Dickens, who himself felt compassion for the
plight of poor children, in part because he himself had once been in
their shoes.

Children do have way of thawing icy hearts. I’ve
seen this especially in men who are trapped in their inexpressive
machismo until they become fathers. All of a sudden tenderness flows
from their hearts, as if by magic. Or, to cite another example, I think
of how the presence of children can bring joy to senior adults in a
convalescent home.

Of course it doesn’t always work this way.
Sometimes cranky people are made even crankier by the noisy gladness of
children. So there’s no guarantee that exposure to children will work
positive change in people. Usually, more is required.

Tomorrow
I’ll talk about that “more,” as I finish this discussion of
transformation and wrap up this series on Christmas according to
Dickens.

What Changed Ebenezer Scrooge? What Changes Us? (Part 2)

Yesterday, I began to gather together the strands of this series and
weave some conclusions about what transforms us. I suggested that:

â€¢ Transformation begins when something interrupts our ordinary experience.
â€¢ Transformation comes through pain.
â€¢ Transformation comes through children.

Today I want to add to further reflections on what changes us.

Transformation is a result of seeing with a fresh perspective.

As I explained earlier in this series, seven years before he wrote A Christmas Carol,
Dickens wrote a short story about a grouchy man who is changed through
his interaction with goblins on Christmas Eve. Part of what altered
Gabriel Grub was the beating he took from the goblins. They literally
knocked some sense into him. Scrooge, on the contrary, experiences no
physical pummeling from the Spirits who visit him. They work their
wonders simply by showing Scrooge scenes of Christmas past, present, and
future. This enables Scrooge to see life from a fresh perspective, and
as a result, he resolves to become a changed man.

Part of what
Scrooge saw wasn’t new. In fact, some of it was his own past. Yet he was
seeing from the perspective of an outsider, and this altered his
vision. Part of what Scrooge saw was new to him. For example, prior to
his travels with the Ghost of Christmas Present he had never observed
the Cratchit family’s Christmas celebrations, so joyful even though so
humble.

It seems clear that Dickens believed in the transforming power of fresh perspective. He wrote A Christmas Carol
not only because he needed additional income, but also and especially
because he wanted people to experience the joy of Christmas, and
especially the joy that comes from generosity, both in giving and in
receiving. Dickens hoped that his little book would function in the
lives of his readers much as the Spirits functioned in the life of
Ebenezer Scrooge. There is ample evidence that his hopes have been
fulfilled thousands if not millions of times over since 1843.

I’ve
also witnessed the power of a fresh perspective to change lives. For
example, during my tenure as pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church,
several hundred members went to a small community in northern Mexico
called El NiÃ±o in order to assist the poor who live there. When they
returned, they often saw life differently and acted differently too.
They saw in a new way, for example, how richly blessed they were
financially. Many resolved to live more simply and to give away more
than they had before in order to help the poor.

Transformation requires supernatural help.

There’s
no question that Ebenezer Scrooge needed supernatural assistance in
order to change his ways. Apart from Jacob Marley’s intervention,
Scrooge would have continued to forge for himself a hellishly-long chain
which he’d be forced to drag about for eternity. Yet because the Spirit
of his former partner interrupted Scrooge and sent the three Christmas
Spirits, Scrooge’s life was renewed.

I’m not enough of an expert
on Dickens to know whether he would agree with the claim that
transformation requires supernatural help. Though he was a theist of
sorts, Dickens didn’t share many of my Christian convictions. He may
have believed that literature, unaided by spirits of any kind, was
powerful enough to effect change in the Ebenezer Scrooges of this world.
Nevertheless, I believe that profound, lasting human transformation
does indeed require supernatural assistance, namely that of the Holy
Spirit.

The good news for those of us who are in need of
transformation, and to some extent that means all of us, is that God’s
Spirit is in the renewal and reformation business. According to the New
Testament, the Holy Spirit “gives life,” offers “renewal,” and leads us
into “new life” (2 Cor 3:6; Titus 3:5; Rom 7:6). The Spirit draws us to
confess Jesus as Lord (1 Cor 12:3) and then empowers us to live in a
whole new way (Rom 8). The Spirit of God also helps us see with fresh
perspective, opening our minds and touching our hearts. And, unlike the
Spirits in A Christmas Carol, this Spirit doesn’t disappear when
Christmas is over. Though I’m quite sure it wasn’t Dickens’ intended
purpose, my reading of A Christmas Carol produces in me an
enhanced desire and a more fervent resolve to live this life less by my
own strength and more by the power of God’s Spirit. In this way, my own
“Scroogishness” might be transformed, by God’s grace.

Advent Calendar 2010

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Note: You may download this Advent calendar of the pictures it contains at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

December 1

Why do you say, O Jacob,
        and speak, O Israel,
    “My way is hidden from the LORD,
        and my right is disregarded by my God”?
Have you not known? Have you not heard?
    The LORD is the everlasting God,
        the Creator of the ends of the earth.
    He does not faint or grow weary;
        his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
        and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary,
        and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength,
        they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
    they shall run and not be weary,
        they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:27-31

Advent is a season of waiting. That’s something my dog, Sandy, does quite well.

December 2

The people who walked in darkness
        have seen a great light;
    those who lived in a land of deep darkness–
        on them light has shined.

Isaiah 9:2

A tunnel of Christmas lights in Marble Falls, Texas.

December 3

“Do
not judge others, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn others, or
it will all come back against you. Forgive others, and you will be
forgiven. Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in
full–pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over,
and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount
you get back.”

Luke 6:37-38

Talk about a full lap!

December 4

December 5: The Second Sunday of Advent

December 6

December 7

December 8

December 9

December 10

December 11

December 12

December 13

December 14

December 15

December 16

December 17

December 18

December 19

December 20

December 21

December 22

December 23

December 24

December 25

Introduction to the Christian Year

Introduction to the Christian Year

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Note: If you’re looking for information about Advent in particular, please check this series: Advent Introduction: What is Advent? Why Does It Matter? How Can We Celebrate It?

Happy New Year!?!?

Happy New Year!

Are you having a Happy New Year?

Yes, I
know it’s early in December. Yes, I know we’re still in 2010. And, yes, I
know that the giant crystal ball in Times Square hasn’t yet fallen. Of
course I’m aware that we haven’t even celebrated Christmas yet. (Photo:
The crystal ball that fell in Times Square at the beginning of 2008.
Photo by Clare Cridland, Wikimedia Commons.)

Still, I want to ask: Are you having a Happy New Year?

If
you’re a member of a highly liturgical church, such as Catholic,
Episcopal, or Lutheran, what I’ve just said makes sense. (If you’re
Eastern Orthodox, you think I’m three months behind the time.) But if
you’re not involved in such a church, I had better explain what I’m
talking about.

The Christian year, sometimes called the church
year or the liturgical year, is a centuries-old way that many Christians
have ordered the 365-day year. It depends, not on the positions of the
sun and moon, or on the start and end of school, or on the requirements
of the IRS, but rather on key aspects of the life of Christ that are
coordinated with the solar calendar. The major holidays (literally, holy
days) in the church year are Christmas (December 25), Good Friday and
Easter (in the spring, dated according to Jewish Passover), and
Pentecost (seven weeks after Easter). Every other special day or season
fits around these crucial days (Advent, Epiphany, Ash Wednesday, Lent,
Palm Sunday, Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, etc.).

When I have
taught worship leaders from around the country, I have often asked about
their awareness of the liturgical year. It used to be that the vast
majority had little or no knowledge of it, apart from the big holidays,
Christmas and Easter. If they had any sense of the liturgical year, they
assumed that it was something for Catholics and other high church folk,
with little relevance for the rest of us. I can understand this
perspective because I was raised in a church that recognized Christmas,
Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter, but that’s about it. I had always
assumed that things like Lent were for my Catholic friends. And since
Lent seemed to involve some sort of fasting, I was happy to leave it
well enough alone. Give me the feasts, I reasoned. Leave the fasts for
the Catholics and Jews. (I didn’t have any sense of Ramadan back then.)

It
wasn’t until I was preparing for ordained ministry that I gained some
exposure to the Christian year. I learned – much to my surprise – that
many Presbyterians and other Protestants take this stuff quite
seriously. For the first time in my life, I heard a Presbyterian pastor
get excited about the benefits of the church year for corporate worship
and private devotions. I was curious, though I didn’t quite get his
enthusiasm. What difference would the liturgical year make in my life?
The answer seemed to be: none at all.

When I became the Senior
Pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church in 1991, the church had a history
of recognizing more of the liturgical year than I had acknowledged
before. During my sixteen-year tenure there, I grew to appreciate the
richness that such a perspective can bring to the worship life of a
church, as well as to my own devotional life. The truth is, all kidding
aside, that I actually began to experience the first Sunday of Advent
(in late November or early December) as the beginning of a new year.

Today,
though I am no longer a parish pastor, I can feel the flow that begins
with Advent and carries me through the birth of Jesus to his death and
resurrection, and beyond that to the sending of the Spirit and the
celebration of Christ’s kingly reign. Believe it or not, there’s a sense
in which early December begins my preparation, not just for Christmas,
but also for Easter. I know this may sound odd to you, even esoteric and
weird. But I’ve found that recognizing the Christian year has enriched
my faith in many ways. I’d like to share some of these with you.

Now,
let me hasten to add that nothing in Scripture demands recognition of
the church year. We do not have in the New Testament some equivalent to
Leviticus 25, where God lays out for Israel the major fasts and feasts
during the year. So, although the liturgical year is structured around
the biblical story of Jesus, it is not commanded in Scripture in the way
of the Jewish holidays for the Jews. Of course, Christians aren’t
commanded to celebrate Easter or Christmas in the way we do either. The
church year, therefore, is not something all Christians must observe, or
must observe in exactly the same way. (In fact, Eastern Orthodox
believers have a different pattern throughout the year and even
celebrate Easter on a different day!)

Nevertheless, I believe
that an awareness of the liturgical year can enrich our worship and
therefore our relationship with God. In fact, when I’ve taught on this
subject to worship leaders who have very little idea of what I’m talking
about, they have come away excited about the potential for their
churches.

On Monday, I’ll provide a brief overview of the Christian year, highlighting some of its main features.

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Overview of the Christian Year

In last Friday’s post, I began describing the Christian year (or
liturgical year, or church year). Today, I want to provide an overview
of this year in case you are not familiar with it.
Before I do this,
however, I should say that there is not one, universally-recognized
version of the Christian year. In fact, you’ll find variation in timing
and practices, sometimes even within one denomination or tradition. For
example, many Presbyterian churches use purple as a primary Advent
color, while other Presbyterian churches use royal blue, and other
Presbyterian churches decorate their worship spaces with secular
Christmas colors of red and green without paying much attention to
Advent. None of these choices is necessarily wrong or right, though, as
you may guess, I would encourage any church to recognize Advent and be
enriched by its themes. Color schemes are clearly secondary in
importance. (Photo: My Advent wreath combines purple and pink candles
for Advent, with a white candle for Christmas, with the greenery we
associate with secular Christmas celebrations.)

All
versions of the Christian year, to my knowledge, recognize Christmas
and Easter as the twin hubs around which rotate a wide variety of
feasts, fasts, and seasons of the year. But even the specific dates for
Christmas and Easter vary among different Christian traditions. So, the
Christian year I’m going to describe is a version of the Western
tradition, which you’ll find in many Protestant denominations, as well
as the Roman Catholic Church.

Here, in summary form, are the basic days and seasons of the church year, along with some of the main themes:

Advent

When:
Begins four Sundays prior to Christmas. Includes all days until
Christmas Eve. Length varies according to date of first Sunday. The
beginning of the Christian year.

Themes: Waiting; Expectation;
Hope; Yearning; Our need for a Savior. A minor theme of joy. Christians
remember the Jewish yearning for the “advent” (from Latin for “coming”
or “visit”) of the Messiah. We also get in touch with our hope for the
Messiah’s second advent.

Christmas

When: December
25th through January 5, a twelve-day season. Many Christians begin
celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve. Of course most people think of
Christmas as a day, not a season. But, as the song narrates, there are
twelve days of Christmas.

Themes: Celebration of the Incarnation of the Word of God; Salvation; Joy; Kingdom; Peace; Giving.

Epiphany

When: January 6, the day after the season of Christmas.

Themes:
Some traditions emphasize the visit of the Magi (Wise Men) and the
universal import of salvation in Christ. Other traditions focus on the
baptism of Jesus.

Ordinary Time

When: Times during
the year when there is not a special day or season. Ordinary time
begins the day after Epiphany and extends until the day before Lent
(Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday). Ordinary time begins again after Pentecost,
extending until the day before Advent.

Themes: Ordinary time is
not “plain, boring time,” but rather “counted” time. Different
traditions include many celebrations during ordinary time, such as
Trinity Sunday, Christ the King Sunday, All Saints Day, and so forth.
The themes of ordinary time include the basic elements of the Christian
life.

Lent

When: Forty weekdays prior to Easter,
beginning with Ash Wednesday. The precise dates vary according to the
date of Easter, which can range from March 22 to April 25. The six
Sundays during the season of Lent are not counted in the forty days.

Themes:
Penitence; Morality; Human Limitations; Need for a Savior; Self-Denial;
Preparation for Good Friday and Easter. Some Christian traditions
emphasize Lenten fasting (from food and other delights). Other
traditions focus on adding spiritual disciplines.

Holy Week

When:
The last seven days of Lent, prior to Easter. Holy Week includes: Palm
Sunday (Passion Sunday), Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy
Saturday.

Themes: The last week of Jesus’ life; The death of
Jesus and its meaning; Love for one another (Maundy Thursday). Palm
Sunday celebrates Jesus and king, but leads into a solemn preparation
for remembrance of his death.

Easter

When: A
fifty-day season of the year, beginning on the evening before Easter and
continuing for seven Sundays until Pentecost. Includes Ascension Day.
Easter Sunday or Resurrection Day is celebrated on the first Sunday
after the first full moon after the Spring equinox (March 21). (The
Eastern Orthodox Easter occurs a week later.)

Themes: Salvation; Victory; New life; Joy; Christ reigns.

Pentecost

When: The seventh Sunday after Easter.

Themes:
The outpouring of the Holy Spirit; The birth of the church; Power for
service in the church and the world; The inclusion of all of God’s
people in ministry. “Pentecost” comes from the Greek word for fifty,
from the phrase “fiftieth day [after Easter].” In some traditions it is
called Whitsunday (White Sunday), perhaps owing to the white garments of
those baptized on this Sunday.

Ordinary Time (again)

When: From the day after Pentecost through the day before Advent, about five months.

The Eastern Orthodox Alternative

The
Orthodox year begins in September and includes several feasts and fasts
that are not part of the Western Christian year. For example, what
Western Christians call Advent, for Orthodox Christians, is called the
Christmas or Nativity Fast. It begins on November 15 and is a 40-day
season of serious fasting in preparation for the 12-day season of
Christmas. For more information on the Orthodox calendar, see this
article on “Easter Orthodoxy Sacred Time.”

In tomorrow’s post I’ll explore in greater detail the colors associated with the Christian year.

The Colors of the Christian Year

Part of what makes observing the liturgical year special is color.
Different events and seasons are reflected in a variety of colors,
including purple, white, green, black, red, pink, blue, gold, and some
other colors as well. The seasonal color, usually displayed in various
ways in the place of worship, reflects and augments the thematic
elements of the season. So, for example, because purple is understood to
symbolize penitence (among other things) it is used during the season
of Lent.

Once again, I should emphasize that there is no single
color scheme either recognized by or imposed upon all Christians. In the
twelfth-century, Pope Innocent II systematized the Roman Catholic color
scheme, but since Vatican II in the 1960s, Roman Catholic churches have
exercised some freedom in their use of alternative or additional
colors. In recent years, many Protestant churches have moved from using
purple in Advent to using royal blue. This move reflects a variety of
motives, depending on the congregation. For the most part, it seems to
be an effort to distinguish Advent from Lent. Blue continues to
symbolize royalty and solemnity. Some churches connect blue with the
color of the night sky or as a symbol of creation. A compromise popular
in some congregations is the use of purplish-blue in Advent and a
reddish-purple in Lent. Such freedom in the use and interpretations of
color can allow for innovation and distinctive celebration, though it
can also be a bit confusing.

If you’re looking for a more
in-depth examination of the church year, I would highly recommend an
outstanding website: The Voice: CRI Institute. Their material on the church year is top-notch.

The
chart below is my attempt to reflect what seems to be a consensus among
many churches. I will identify the day or season, along with calendar
dates, themes, and common colors.

In tomorrow’s post I’ll talk a bit more about the colors of the Christian year and their use in worship.

Liturgical Colors and Visual Art in Worship

In yesterday’s post, I gave an overview of the Christian year, including
a chart that listed key themes and colors. Today, I want to talk a bit
more about liturgical colors and their meaning.

The use of color
and visual art in worship is nothing new. For centuries, the Roman
Catholic church incorporated elaborate artistic works in her
sanctuaries. But, with the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century,
and especially in the Reformed branch of the Reformation (my theological
tradition), the perceived excesses of Catholic art in worship led to
the virtual excommunication of visual art from worship. Visual symbolism
in Reformed churches was minimal (cross, pulpit, baptismal font) and
modest.

This artistic minimalism continued to be the dominant
force in most evangelical churches in the United States, though some
mainline Protestant churches developed visual traditions along the
familiar lines of the Roman Catholic tradition.

In the last
decade, however, many churches throughout the Western world have
“discovered” the power of the visual in worship. Owing partly to the
pervasive influence of visual imagery in our culture, partly to the
cross-pollination between different streams of Christian tradition, and
partly to the power of digital projection, churches that would never
have considered the use of visual art in worship have not only begun to
use it, but even to major in it. Many large evangelical and charismatic
churches, the kind that only twenty years ago would have incorporated
only words and music in worship, have even hired staff whose primary
responsibility is to provide stunning visuals for liturgical purposes
(though they would avoid the word “liturgical” in favor of something
like “celebrative” or “worshipful”). (Photo: The cross at the front of
the sanctuary of Irvine Presbyterian Church.)

I
believe that, for the most part, the rediscovery of visual art in
worship is a positive development. Yet some churches have set off on the
journey of liturgical art as if they were groundbreaking pioneers,
rather than pilgrims traveling along a well-worn path. These churches
might do well to look into the use (and occasional misuse) of visual art
in Christian history. We all have much to learn from the centuries of
Christian worship that precede us. Or, to use a different metaphor, we
who are beginning to utilize the visual in worship might just find in
Christian tradition a treasure trove with gems just waiting to be used
afresh.

In my opinion, the colors of the Christian year are part
of this treasure trove. The intentional use of colors and color changes
in worship spaces can enliven and deeper our worship, as well as add to
the beauty of the experience. Colors can symbolize truth. Colors can
delight the eyes. Colors can move the heart. Colors can suggest and
symbolize and hint in a way that words cannot.

Let me give just
one example among many from the worship in Irvine Presbyterian Church,
where I served as senior pastor of sixteen years. One of the most
striking aspects of the worship space in this church is the cross at the
front of our sanctuary. Its simplicity and power convey symbolically
and emotionally the truth of the Gospel. During my tenure as pastor,
along with the members of my congregation, I meditated upon this cross
many times, remembering what Jesus did for me. It impacted both the
depth and the passion of my worship. (Photo: The Irvine Presbyterian
cross on Good Friday. In the foreground are crosses upon which members
of the congregation nailed pieces of paper on which we listed our sins.)

The
cross stands alone, not as a decoration, but as a simple image of
salvation. We never hung anything from the cross, except for one day of
the year: Good Friday. Early in the morning of Good Friday, somebody
draped a basic black cloth over the horizontal bar of the cross. I knew
in advance that this would be there. I was not surprised to see it. Yet,
every year, when I entered our sanctuary on Good Friday and saw the
black drape, my heart was struck. For some reason that black cloth
hanging on the cross brought home to me the horror and the wonder of
Jesus’s death. I often found myself brought to tears by that compelling
yet basic symbol.

This is just one example among many
possibilities from my personal experience. It illustrates, I think, the
potential power of color to motivate and shape our worship.
I know
that some of you will relate immediately to what I’m saying because your
experience is similar. Others of you will understand what I’m
describing, but it isn’t something you yourself know in a personal way.
Some of my readers will no doubt wonder if the use of color is
consistent with biblical teaching. My response to this concern would
point to God’s good creation of a colorful world. I would also
underscore the colors of the Tabernacle in the Old Testament, not to
mention the brilliant colors of the new creation as seen, for example,
in Revelation 21. Surely a God who has created such a wide spectrum of
color would welcome our use of his colorful creation to worship him.

Speaking
of worship, tomorrow I’ll say a bit more about how paying attention to
the Christian year can enrich our worship. Stay tuned . . . .

The Christian Year and the Textures of Worship

In this post I want to pursue a bit further how the Christian year can
enhance our worship and therefore our relationship with God.

As
Christians we worship in light of the Gospel. Our worship is a response
to the God who has reached out to us in Jesus Christ, saving us from
sin, death, isolation, and meaninglessness. Thus, Christian worship is
consistently infused with joy and gratitude. Moreover, since we worship
the King of king and Lord of lords, we approach God humbly as well as
boldly. And because God is glorious and majestic, our worship is filled
with praise.

At the core and in many of the details, Christian
worship from day to day, from week to week, and from year to year, is
essentially the same. If we ever stop worshiping the one true God, if we
ever stop responding to God’s love given in Jesus Christ, if we ever
stop offering ourselves to God in gratitude and love, then we’ve lost
the core of worship. But this is not to say that our worship should be
monotonous and monochromatic. In a given worship service we might focus
on one particular aspect of God’s nature and therefore utilize
distinctive expressions. We might, for example, focus on the holiness of
God, praising God’s perfection, thanking him for the gift of the Holy
Spirit, and asking God to finish in us his work of sanctification
(making us holy). In another service we might emphasize God’s grace,
praising him for his forgiveness, and seeking help to be gracious with
one another. And so forth and so on. When our worship responds to the
multifaceted character of God, and especially when it is shaped by the
diversity of biblical revelation, it will have different textures and
colors, even though the basic fabric is consistent from week to week.

The
liturgical year can enrich the variety of our worship. Therefore, it
helps us to have a broader, deeper, and more vital relationship with the
living God. It keeps us from the possibility of our worship becoming so
routine that we cease to wonder at the grandeur of God. To put it
bluntly, the variations of the Christian year help us not to become
bored in worship.
Bored in worship? Is it possible? Logically
speaking, this seems utterly impossible. If we remember that we worship
the awesome Creator of the universe, it’s hard to factor boredom into
the worship equation. But, sometimes, no matter how wonderful God is,
and no matter how truthful our worship might be, if our expressions of
worship are virtually the same from week to week, a kind of monotony can
set in, and we can become – Heaven forbid! – bored. Perhaps you’ve had
the experience of learning a new hymn or worship song and absolutely
loving it. As you sing, your mind and heart are truly lifted before God.
But, after you’ve sung the same song for the hundredth time, it loses
some of its punch. Its tune is still memorable and its lyrics still full
of truth, but its power to move your heart and stretch your mind has
been diminished. (Photo: The Grand Tetons)

Worshiping
in the same mode every week is a little like driving for a long
distance through awesome mountains. When I first see the Rocky
Mountains, for example, my heart explodes with joy and awe. These
feelings continue for quite a while. But, after I’ve driven among the
Rockies for a day or more, I must confess that my appreciation begins to
wane just a bit. I no longer remark on the stunning scenery, but begin
to take it for granted. Of course the mountains themselves are still as
majestic as ever. They haven’t changed or diminished, but my own
sensibilities have become dull. I need refreshed vision so I can see the
Rockies once again in their awesome beauty.

If, however, my
scenic menu were to be varied a bit, I’d be much less likely to become
complacent in my admiration of the scenery. A few summers ago, my family
and I took a driving trip from Southern California, through the
southwestern desert, the rangelands of Utah, and the verdant forests of
eastern Idaho. We drove through the varied terrain of Yellowstone
National Park and alongside the majestic Grand Tetons. Then we returned
by way of the stunning redness of Zion National Park. In over two weeks
of travel, I was never bored because my world kept changing. There were
always new wonders to behold. (Photo: Angels Landing in Zion National
Park)

What
I’ve just described is analogous to worshiping in light of the
liturgical year. We begin in the rising plain of Advent, which leads us
to the top of the celebrative pinnacle of Christmas. Then, after a month
of travel through the fertile grasslands of “ordinary time,” we enter
the parched desert of Lent in which our thirst for God is magnified.
Holy Week guides us through the tortuous geography of Jesus’ last week,
culminating in the dark cave of Holy Saturday. On Easter morning, the
sun breaks forth with glorious light, and we are filled with awe as we
gaze upon the towering mountain of God’s victory over death. Throughout
the season of Eastertide, the world seems brighter, more alive than ever
before. At Pentecost, we remember the our fellow travelers and refuel
to continue on through the rolling hills of ordinary time, until we
return to where we began at the start of Advent.

I’ve known
Christians who have been uncomfortable with certain aspects of the
Christian year. They haven’t liked the waiting of Advent or the focus on
our mortality in Lent. They want to live each day as if it were Easter.
Now, in a sense, my friends are theologically correct. We should indeed
live daily in light of the victory of God in Christ. But, speaking from
my own experience, the less celebrative seasons of the church year
(Lent, Advent) actually prepare me to experience greater vitality and
rejoicing on the great feasts of Christian year, Christmas and Easter.
Before I paid much attention to Lent and Holy Week, Easter zipped by
without making a major dent in my consciousness. Now, as I keep the
seasons of Lent and Holy Week, and as Easter has been stretched to
include Eastertide, my joy over the resurrection has been multiplied
several times over.

Once again I should emphasize that what I’ve
been describing here is not a matter of biblical rule. You don’t have to
recognize the Christian year to be a faithful follower of Jesus. But
the experience of countless believers throughout the centuries should at
least encourage you to consider shaping your yearly life by the themes
and narratives of Scripture – and this is, after all, what the Christian
year is really all about.

/series/

/pages/

Why Did Jesus Have to Die?

Why Did Jesus Have to Die?
Roman, Jewish, and Christian Perspectives

Click here for an updated and complete version of this series.

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Introduction

Finally, if, like me, you believe that the crucifixion of Jesus stands at the very center of history, then knowing why Jesus had to die is just about the most important bit of knowledge you can have.

In my next post I’ll lay out some basic parameters for the rest of this series: how I’m going to structure the series and some of the foundational facts upon which I’ll build the structure.

Where Do We Start When Considering the Death of Jesus? Some Basic Facts

Jesus was crucified. There were many ways in the first-century for a criminal to be put to death, including stoning, beheading, being torn apart by beasts, etc. Yet all the earliest sources attest to the crucifixion of Jesus. These sources include, in addition to the New Testament writings, the Jewish historian Josephus (Antiquities 18.3.3, A.D. 95) and the Roman historian Tacitus (Annals 15.44, A.D. 109)(Photo: Painting by El Greco, “The Crucifixion,” 1596-1600)Jesus was crucified during the governorship and under the authority of Pontius Pilate. Once again, this basic fact is confirmed in Josephus and Tacitus in addition to the New Testament.

Pilate placed a sign on Jesus’ cross that read “The King of the Jews.” This fact is found in all four New Testament Gospels and in some later non-canonical gospels as well. This “title” helps to explain the nature of the charges against Jesus.

Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem on or near the Jewish feast of Passover. Again, all New Testament Gospels agree on these basic facts, and there is every reason to believe that they are accurate (though the precise timing of Jesus’ death in relationship to Passover is hard to pin down).

These basic facts, though apparently obvious and unspectacular, will actually prove to be very helpful as we try to figure out the reasons for Jesus’ death.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the question “Why did Jesus have to die?” doesn’t have a simple answer. I propose to address this question from four different perspectives:

• Roman: Why did Pontius Pilate think Jesus had to die?• Jewish: Why did some Jewish leaders think Jesus had to die?

• Jesus: Why did Jesus himself think that he had to die?

• Early Christian: Why did early Christians think Jesus had to die?

In my next post I’ll begin with the Roman perspective.

Click here for an updated and complete version of this series.

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective, Part 1

The Roman Practice of Crucifixion

Not surprisingly, the Romans crucified Jews when they rebelled against imperial rule. I’ll examine a couple of telling instances in my next post.

The Roman Perspective, Part 2

Roman Crucifixion Among the Jews

Upon this, Varus sent a part of his army into the country, to seek out those that had been the authors of the revolt; and when they were discovered, he punished some of them that were most guilty, and some he dismissed: now the number of those that were crucified on this account were two thousand. (Antiquities 17.10.10)

The Roman Perspective, Part 3

Introduction to Pontius Pilate

The Roman Perspective, Part 4

Pilate and the Danger of Passover

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective, Part 5

Pilate’s Encounter with Jesus and the Jewish Leaders

In my next post I’ll finish explaining the necessity of Jesus’ death from the Roman perspective of Pontius Pilate.

The Roman Perspective, Part 6

Pilate’s Decision to Have Jesus Crucified

Why Did Jesus Have to Die? The Roman Perspective: Conclusion

From a Roman perspective, why did Jesus have to die?

•   Because he disturbed Roman order.
•   Because he spoke seditiously of a coming kingdom other than that of Caesar.
•   Because he allowed himself to be called “King of the Jews.”
•   Because he made a nuisance of himself at the wrong time (Passover), in the wrong
place (Jerusalem), in the presence of the wrong people (Pilate and the temple
leadership under his command).
•   Because his crucifixion would be a powerful deterrent that might keep other Jews from
following in his footsteps.

In my next post I’ll begin to look at the death of Jesus from one Jewish perspective.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 1

Placing This Conversation in Context

Therefore, before I discuss Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus, I must say three things quite clearly:

3. Even if a Christian considered “the Jews” to be his or her enemies, that Christian would be compelled by the very words of Jesus to love the Jews, not to hate them.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 2

But, one might object, perhaps this tiny percentage represented the majority. This objection is unlikely for three reasons:

First, we know from the Gospels that Jesus was, for the most part, very popular among the masses (for example, Matt 4:25; 8:1; 9:8; 12:15; 13:2; 14:14; 15:30; 20:29; 21:8).Second, we also know that the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem who wanted to have Jesus killed hesitated precisely because Jesus was so popular among the masses there (Matt 21:46). Nothing in the Gospel records suggests that this popularity ended magically by Good Friday.

Third, in fact the Gospel records suggest that large numbers of Jews were deeply distressed by the death of Jesus. For example, as Jesus was walking along the Via Dolorosa, Luke tells us that “A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him” (Luke 23:27). Then, after Jesus was crucified, the crowds who “saw what had taken place, . . . returned home, beating their breasts” (Luke 24:48). In other words, vast numbers of Jews were horrified by the death of Jesus.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 3

The Perspective of Jewish Leaders in Jerusalem

Ruins of the coliseum at Sepphoris

There is a tradition: They hanged Yeshu on the Sabbath of the Passover. But for forty days before that a herald went in front of him (crying), “Yeshu is to be stoned because he practiced sorcery and seduced Israel and led them astray from God”. (b. Sanhedrin 43a)

One Jewish Perspective, Part 4

The “Crime” of Jesus

Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.” (Mark 11:15-17)

How did the Jewish leaders respond to Jesus’ action? “And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him” (Mark 11:18).

Why was Jesus’ behavior in the temple worthy of death?

Model of the temple in Jerusalem. Photo with permission of holylandphotos.org.

Here you are, trusting in deceptive words to no avail. Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, “We are safe!” – only to go on doing all these abominations? Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight? . . . And now, because you have done all these things, says the LORD, . . . therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name . . . just what I did to Shiloh. (Jer 7:8-14)

And what did the Lord do to Shiloh? He destroyed it and the tabernacle it once housed (Psalm 78:60).

One Jewish Perspective, Part 5

Jewish Leaders Respond to Offenses Against the Temple

Rembrandt van Rijn, "Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalam," 1630

The first example comes from the ministry of Jeremiah, some 600 years before Jesus. The Lord told Jeremiah to stand in the Jerusalem temple and speak the following:

“If you will not listen to me, to walk in my law that I have set before you, and to heed the words of my servants the prophets whom I send to you urgently – though you have not heeded – then I will make this house like Shiloh, and I will make this city a curse for all the nations of the earth” (Jeremiah 26:4-6).

What response did this prophecy spark in the Jewish leaders and others? Sorrow? Repentance? Hardly! In fact, here’s what happened:

And when Jeremiah had finished speaking all that the LORD had commanded him to speak to all the people, then the priests and the prophets and all the people laid hold of him, saying, “You shall die!” (Jeremiah 26:8)

In my next post I’ll sum up what we have learned about “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death.

One Jewish Perspective, Part 6

Summing Up One Jewish Perspective

In the last five posts I’ve been examining “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death. Let me briefly summarize my findings, adding some observations along the way.

3. The Jewish leaders who sought to have Jesus crucified believed that his death was necessary for the following reasons:

a. By stirring up the people, Jesus was threatening the peace and life of the Jewish people, thus increasing the likelihood that Rome would destroy both Jerusalem and the temple. The death of Jesus would be preferable to the destruction of the nation.

b. Jesus “seduced Israel and led them astray from God” (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 43a). His message and ministry lessened the people’s commitment to living out their Judaism in the way approved of by the Jewish leaders (priests, Pharisees).

c. Jesus interrupted the orderly system of sacrifices in the Jerusalem temple, speaking against the temple and its leaders, thus opposing not only the core of Judaism, but God himself. Jesus’ quotation from Jeremiah 7 (“den of robbers”) combined with other things he had said during his ministry clarified his condemnation of the temple – a blasphemous offense. Moreover, he insisted that God was on his side, thus adding blasphemy to blasphemy.

d. Jesus presented himself as the Messiah, the one anointed by God to bring divine salvation to Israel. But he failed to do what the Messiah was supposed to do, notably, lead a successful revolt against Rome. Instead, Jesus turned his judgment against God’s own temple. Thus Jesus was a false messiah. This fact alone might not have warranted his crucifixion. But, when combined with his other offenses, his false claim to messiahship increased further the chances that his actions would bring devastation upon Judea.

Implications for the Current Debate

Given this picture of “one” Jewish perspective on the necessity of Jesus’ death, I want to draw out two implications.

How Lent Can Make a Difference in Your Relationship with God

How Lent Can Make a Difference in Your Relationship with God

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Note: You may download this resource at
no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use
in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for
sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Introduction to Lent

A Pastoral Word: Let me note, at this point,
that if you think of Lent as a season to earn God’s favor by your good
intentions or good works, then you’ve got a theological problem. God’s
grace has been fully given to us in Christ. We can’t earn it by doing
extra things or by giving up certain other things in fasting. If you see
Lent as a time to make yourself more worthy for celebrating Good Friday
and Easter, then perhaps you shouldn’t keep the season until you’ve
grown in your understanding of grace. If, on the contrary, you see Lent
as a time to grow more deeply in God’s grace, then you’re approaching
Lent from a proper perspective.

In my next post in this series I’ll consider some of the
symbolism of Lent, and suggest some possible Lenten practices to help
you keep the season.

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Do You Have to Give Up Something for Lent?

What I’ve Learned by Fasting During Lent

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. . . .
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
Matthew 5:3, 6

Adding a Lenten Discipline

Perhaps some of my readers would like to suggest Lenten
disciplines that they have tried in the past, and how they have
experienced God’s grace through these exercises.

Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning

Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series

Note: You may download this resource at
no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use
in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for
sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

What is Ash Wednesday?

Here’s some of what I learned . . . .

Staring Death in the Face

At this point the employee had a shocked look on his face, and said, “No, no, Tim!”

Tim wasn’t sure he had been clear, so he explained, once again, “Look, if you die, your family will get $25,000.”

Again, the employee was unhappy. “No, I don’t want it,” he said urgently.

“Why not?” Tim asked. “If you die, this will be good for your family.”

“But Tim,” the employee cried, “I don’t want to die!”

A Christmas Miracle?

The Piazza del Popolo and Its Augustan Obelisk

A view of the Piazza del Popolo in Rome:

A closeup of the inscription on the base of the obelisk. This was added by Augustus. It reads:

IMP . CAESAR . DIVI . F
AVGVSTVS
PONTIFEX . MAXIMVS
IMP . XII . COS . XI . TRIB . POT . XIV
AEGVPTO . IN . POTESTATEM
POPVLI . ROMANI . REDACTA
SOLI . DONUM . DEDIT

In English, this would be translated:

Christmas According to Dickens

Christmas According to Dickens

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

For an updated and reformatted version of this series click here.

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Our Favorite Christmas Carol?

What Is Your Favorite Christmas Carol?

A Christmas Carol Many Times Over

Why Is A Christmas Carol So Beloved?

Christmas According to Dickens

Resources for A Christmas Carol

I’d like to recommend a couple of resources that will augment your appreciation of A Christmas Carol.

Dickens: The Man Who Invented Christmas?

The Context for Writing A Christmas Carol

The Impact of A Christmas Carol

Because our own celebrations of Christmas have been so
strongly influenced by Dickens, we can easily overlook his special
contributions to our traditions, such as:

â€¢ Christmas as a major holiday. At the time of Dickens, it was relatively ignored by most people.
â€¢ Christmas as a one (or two) day celebration rather than the traditional twelve.
â€¢ Christmas as an occasion for family and close friends to gather for luscious food, singing, dancing, and games. Before A Christmas Carol,
turkey was an uncommon on Christmas tables. After the book, it became
the meat of choice for this holiday (Standiford, 184-185).
â€¢ Christmas as a time for being generous to the poor.

In
my next post I’ll focus on one of the essential elements in a Dickens
Christmas, something I believe we all should include in our holiday
celebrations today.

The Real Business of Christmas

Business in Stave One of A Christmas Carol

Early
in the first stave (chapter), Ebenezer Scrooge receives an unwelcome
Christmas Eve visit from his nephew. When his Uncle Scrooge questions
the value of Christmas, Fred responds:

“But I am sure I
have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round-apart from
the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging
to it can be apart from that-as a good time; a kind, forgiving,
charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their
shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they
really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of
creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has
never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has
done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

No
sooner had Fred left his uncle alone than “two portly gentlemen,
pleasant to behold” dropped in on Mr. Scrooge. One explained his
business thus:

“At this festive season of the year, Mr.
Scrooge,” said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than usually
desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and
destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in
want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common
comforts, sir.”

“Business!”
cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The
common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and
benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a
drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”

Then Marley’s ghost added an extra note about Christmas:

“At
this time of the rolling year,” the spectre said, “I suffer most. Why
did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and
never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor
abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted
me?”

Business in Stave Five of A Christmas Carol

“Lord bless me!” cried the gentleman, as if his breath were taken away. “My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?”

“If
you please,” said Scrooge. “Not a farthing less. A great many
back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that
favour?”

“My dear sir,” said the other, shaking hands with him. “I don’t know what to say to such munificence-”

“Don’t say anything please,” retorted Scrooge. “Come and see me. Will you come and see me?”

The First “Ebenezer Scrooge”

Introducing Gabriel Grub, the First “Scrooge”

Gabriel Grub and Ebenezer Scrooge

Scrooge was better than his word. He
did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he
was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and
as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city,
town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the
alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he
was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for
good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the
outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought
it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as
have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and
that was quite enough for him.

“Ebenezer Scrooge” – The Meaning of the Name

The Meaning of “Scrooge”

Oh!
But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-stone, Scrooge! a
squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old
sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out
generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose,
shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin
lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime
was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his
own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the
dog-days; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

It’s as if Dickens opened his thesaurus and copied down every synonym of “squeezing.”

The Meaning of “Ebenezer”

What Does Scrooge Remind Us Of?

But I am sure I have always thought of
Christmas time, when it has come round–apart from the veneration due to
its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart
from that–as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time;
the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and
women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to
think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to
the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.

What Made Scrooge Scrooge?

If you call somebody a Scrooge today, everybody will know what you mean.
You’re implying that someone is miserly, grumpy, and selfish,
especially but not only during Christmastime.

Scrooge’s Difficult Childhood

‘Home, little Fan?’ returned the boy.

‘Yes!’
said the child, brimful of glee. ‘Home, for good and all. Home, for
ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home’s
like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to
bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home;
and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And
you’re to be a man!’ said the child, opening her eyes,’and are never to
come back here; but first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long,
and have the merriest time in all the world.’

In this short paragraph, we learn some crucial facts about Ebenezer Scrooge’s sorry childhood:

â€¢ He had been sent away from home to a boarding school.
â€¢ His father used to be cruel.
â€¢ He had previously been left alone at school for Christmas.
â€¢ His mother was dead (implied, since she isn’t mentioned at all).

Scrooge’s Young Adulthood

[Scrooge
says,] “There is nothing on which [the world] is so hard as poverty;
and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the
pursuit of wealth!”

“You fear the world too much,” she answered,
gently. “All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond
the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations
fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have
I not?”

What Made Scrooge Scrooge?

So if this
explains, at least in part, how Scrooge became Scrooge, now the question
is: What caused Scrooge to change? To this question I will turn in my
next post in this series.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave I

As A Christmas Carol begins, Ebenezer Scrooge is one of the most
unlikable characters in all of literature. Here, once again, is the full
version of Charles Dickens’s classic description:

Oh!
But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. a squeezing,
wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and
sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire;
secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within
him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his
cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and
spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head,
and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low
temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days;
and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

Scrooge was better
than his word [to Bob Cratchit concerning help for his family]. He did
it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a
second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good
a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or
borough, in the good old world. . . . [A]nd it was always said of him,
that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the
knowledge.

What in the world can explain such a transformation? Why was Scrooge able to change? How did it happen?

The Impact of the Spirit of Jacob Marley

What begins to thaw the frosty heart of Ebenezer
Scrooge? It’s the fact that Marley has acted to help Scrooge. It’s
Marley’s gift of undeserved kindness that first touches Scrooge’s soul.

Theological Reflections

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave II

The Impact of the Ghost of Christmas Past

How Do the Events of Stave II Transform Scrooge?

Theological Reflections

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride. . . .

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave III

The Impact of the Crachit Family

Viewing Tiny Tim in his weakened state, Scrooge asks the Spirit “if Tiny Tim will live.”

“If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future,” the Spirit responds, “the child will die.”

“No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.”

The Strange Ending of Stave III

So what in Stave III contributes to
the transformation of Scrooge’s heart? I’ll answer this question in my
next post and add some theological reflections.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave III (Part 2)

What in Stave III Contributes to the Transformation of Scrooge?

“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
to the old man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t
take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!”

Uncle
Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he
would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them
in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time.

Grace is invading Ebenezer Scrooge’s heart.

Theological Reflections

The complete transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge doesn’t
happen at the end of Stave III, however. More is still needed. To this I
will turn in my next post in this series.

Why Did Ebenezer Scrooge Change? Stave IV

Yet the Spirit doesn’t speak, and, as Scrooge attempts to hold him, the Spirit turns into a bedpost, Scrooge’s own bedpost.

“Of
all days in the year, we will turn our faces towards that City upon
Christmas Day, and from its silent hosts bring those we loved, among us.
City of the Dead, in the blessed name wherein we are gathered together
at this time, and in the Presence that is here among us according to the
promise, we will receive, and not dismiss, they people who are dear to
us!” (Hearn, p. 126)

Theological Reflections

Evidence of Scrooge’s Changed Life: Stave V

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep
it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the
lessons that they teach.”

Stave V, the final section of A Christmas Carol, reveals that Scrooge wasn’t lying or exaggerating. He was indeed a new man.

Theological Reflections

What Changed Ebenezer Scrooge? What Changes Us?

Transformation begins when something interrupts our ordinary experience.

Transformation comes through pain.

Tomorrow
I’ll talk about that “more,” as I finish this discussion of
transformation and wrap up this series on Christmas according to
Dickens.

What Changed Ebenezer Scrooge? What Changes Us? (Part 2)

Yesterday, I began to gather together the strands of this series and
weave some conclusions about what transforms us. I suggested that:

â€¢ Transformation begins when something interrupts our ordinary experience.
â€¢ Transformation comes through pain.
â€¢ Transformation comes through children.

Today I want to add to further reflections on what changes us.

Transformation is a result of seeing with a fresh perspective.

Transformation requires supernatural help.

Advent Calendar 2010

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Note: You may download this Advent calendar of the pictures it contains at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

December 1

Isaiah 40:27-31

Advent is a season of waiting. That’s something my dog, Sandy, does quite well.

December 2

The people who walked in darkness
        have seen a great light;
    those who lived in a land of deep darkness–
        on them light has shined.

Isaiah 9:2

A tunnel of Christmas lights in Marble Falls, Texas.

December 3

Luke 6:37-38

Talk about a full lap!

December 4

December 5: The Second Sunday of Advent

December 6

December 7

December 8

December 9

December 10

December 11

December 12

December 13

December 14

December 15

December 16

December 17

December 18

December 19

December 20

December 21

December 22

December 23

December 24

December 25

Introduction to the Christian Year

Introduction to the Christian Year

by Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Note: You may download this resource at no cost, for personal use, for use in a Christian ministry, or for use in an educational venture, as long as you are not publishing it for sale. All I ask is that you give credit to this website: //www.beliefnet.com/columnists//markdroberts/. For all other uses, please contact me at mark@markdroberts.com. Thank you.

Note: If you’re looking for information about Advent in particular, please check this series: Advent Introduction: What is Advent? Why Does It Matter? How Can We Celebrate It?

Happy New Year!?!?

Happy New Year!

Are you having a Happy New Year?

Still, I want to ask: Are you having a Happy New Year?

On Monday, I’ll provide a brief overview of the Christian year, highlighting some of its main features.

Click here for an updated and reformatted version of this series.

Overview of the Christian Year

Here, in summary form, are the basic days and seasons of the church year, along with some of the main themes:

Advent

When:
Begins four Sundays prior to Christmas. Includes all days until
Christmas Eve. Length varies according to date of first Sunday. The
beginning of the Christian year.

Christmas

Themes: Celebration of the Incarnation of the Word of God; Salvation; Joy; Kingdom; Peace; Giving.

Epiphany

When: January 6, the day after the season of Christmas.

Themes:
Some traditions emphasize the visit of the Magi (Wise Men) and the
universal import of salvation in Christ. Other traditions focus on the
baptism of Jesus.

Ordinary Time

Lent

Holy Week

When:
The last seven days of Lent, prior to Easter. Holy Week includes: Palm
Sunday (Passion Sunday), Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy
Saturday.

Easter

Themes: Salvation; Victory; New life; Joy; Christ reigns.

Pentecost

When: The seventh Sunday after Easter.

Ordinary Time (again)

When: From the day after Pentecost through the day before Advent, about five months.

The Eastern Orthodox Alternative

In tomorrow’s post I’ll explore in greater detail the colors associated with the Christian year.

The Colors of the Christian Year

If you’re looking for a more
in-depth examination of the church year, I would highly recommend an
outstanding website: The Voice: CRI Institute. Their material on the church year is top-notch.

The
chart below is my attempt to reflect what seems to be a consensus among
many churches. I will identify the day or season, along with calendar
dates, themes, and common colors.

In tomorrow’s post I’ll talk a bit more about the colors of the Christian year and their use in worship.

Liturgical Colors and Visual Art in Worship

In yesterday’s post, I gave an overview of the Christian year, including
a chart that listed key themes and colors. Today, I want to talk a bit
more about liturgical colors and their meaning.

Speaking
of worship, tomorrow I’ll say a bit more about how paying attention to
the Christian year can enrich our worship. Stay tuned . . . .

The Christian Year and the Textures of Worship

In this post I want to pursue a bit further how the Christian year can
enhance our worship and therefore our relationship with God.

Mark D. Roberts

The Rev. Dr. Mark D. Roberts is a pastor, author, retreat leader, speaker, and blogger. Since October 2007 he has been the Senior Director and Scholar-in-Residence for Laity Lodge, a multifaceted ministry in the Hill Country of Texas. Before coming to Laity Lodge, he was for sixteen years the Senior Pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church in Irvine, California (a city in Orange County about forty miles south of Los Angeles). Before his time at Irvine Pres, Mark served on the staff of the First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood as Associate Pastor of Education. (Thanks to Janel Pahl for taking the photo to the right.)

Mark studied at Harvard University, receiving a B.A. in Philosophy, an M.A. in the Study of Religion, and a Ph.D. in New Testament and Christian Origins. He has taught classes in New Testament for Fuller Theological Seminary and San Francisco Theological Seminary.

Mark has written several books, including No Holds Barred: Wrestling with God in Prayer (WaterBrook, 2005), Dare to Be True (WaterBrook, 2003), Jesus Revealed (WaterBrook, 2002), After "I Believe" (Baker, 2002), and Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (Word, 1993). His most recent book is Can We Trust the Gospels? Investigating the Reliability of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (Crossway, 2007). He is currently working on a commentary on Ephesians that will be published by Zondervan in 2014.

Mark writes a devotional for The High Calling of Our Daily Work, a website associated with Laity Lodge. His "Daily Reflections" can be viewed online or sent as a daily email. If you wish to receive this email, just visit TheHighCalling.org and sign up.
Mark serves on the editorial board of Worship Leader magazine, where he publishes articles and reviews, including his regular column "Lyrical Poetry." Additionally, he has published dozens of articles in leading magazines and journals. He often speaks for churches and other Christian groups, and has been interviewed on over seventy-five radio programs nationwide.

Mark is married to Linda, who is a Marriage and Family Therapist, a Spiritual Director, and a retreat speaker. They have two children, Nathan and Kara.For Publicity Photos and Bio Statements for Mark, please check here.

Mark's Dossier

Professional History:

Senior Director and Scholar-in Residence, Laity Lodge, October 2007 to present.

Senior Pastor Irvine Presbyterian Church, June 1991 to September 2007

Adjunct Assistant Professor Fuller Theological Seminary, 1994 to 2007. Courses: New Testament Theology and Exegesis.

Adjunct Instructor San Francisco Theological Seminary, 1995 to 2001.
Courses: New Testament Greek and Exegesis

Associate Pastor of Education First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood, 1987-1991

Teaching Fellow Harvard University, 1980-1983

Education:

Ph.D. in the Study of Religion. Harvard University, 1992. Area: New Testament and Christian Origins

M.A. in the Study of Religion Harvard University, 1984.

A.B. magna cum laude in Philosophy Harvard University, 1979. Phi Beta Kappa; Danforth Fellowship

Books:

Can We Trust the Gospels? Investigating the Reliability of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Crossway, 2007

No Holds Barred: Wrestling with God in Prayer. WaterBrook, 2005

Dare to Be True: Living in the Freedom of Complete Honesty. WaterBrook, 2003.

Jesus Revealed: Know Him Better to Love Him Better. WaterBrook, 2002.

After "I Believe": Experiencing Authentic Christian Living. Baker, 2002.

Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther in the Communicator's Commentary Series. Word, 1993.

Contacting Mark:

You can reach Mark at:

E-mail:

mark@markdroberts.com
mroberts@laitylodge.org

Phone:

Laity Lodge: (830) 792-1216

Address:

Laity Lodge
719 Earl Garrett
Kerrville, TX 78028