The Working Class

Lenten Reflections: Jeremiah 1, John 4

I want to begin a series of brief thoughts during this season of Lent based on the Lectionary Readings. March 20 begins the second week of Lent. It also begins readings in the Books of the Prophet Jeremiah, the Book of Romans and the Gospel of John.

Jeremiah prophesies during a time which is quite akin to our time. Josiah is a young king who seeks to follow the LORD. Yet, political and religious leaders discourage him. Jeremiah himself is a young lad. When God's call comes to him, he exclaims, "Oy weh! LORD God, I am just a young fellow." God responds, "Don't you dare call yourself a young fellow. I am sending you . . . I have put my words in your mouth." (Jeremiah 1:6, 8). With tender words, God says through Jeremiah, "I remember the time my people were like a young bride, who followed the bridegroom (the LORD himself) into the wilderness." (Jeremiah 2:1). Then with sadness God exclaims, "Look what you have done now, you have forsaken me, and found other gods, which you have fashioned to suit your own vile ethics and injustices" (Jeremiah 2:13).

In the Gospel reading, John 4, Jesus encounters a woman at the well in Samaria. This woman suffers at the hands of many years of vile ethics and injustices. Her people, the Samaritans are outcasts. She is a woman, in a society where women of the outcast group are raped on a regular basis and trafficked. In these circumstances, Jesus, the Word become Incarnate, encounters her. He heals her. She rushes back to the place where she is trafficked, and exclaims, “I have found a Man, the Prophet, can this be the promised Messiah?” I have experienced and amazing healing. The people listen to her words, and follow her to the Messiah. The reviled one caused a transformation to take place in the vile and unjust land.

Our lent reading reminds us that in the world today, transformation can happen through young people and trafficked women, through the Messiah’s miraculous healing touch.

Rev. Dr. R. Boaz Johnson, Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies

Culture Of Voyeurs

The country is professing shock today at the suicide of Tyler Clementi. The Rutgers freshman killed himself by jumping from the George Washington bridge after his roommate Dharun Ravi recorded Clementi having sex with a man. Ravi then invited others to join him in watching another recorded encounter between Clementi and the man. This is only one of a number of recent teen suicides brought on by bullying, brutality and humiliation. Rene Girard would call this a form of scapegoating. Clementi was sacrificed to preserve the power and group identity of his tormenters. In uncertain times scapegoating produces unanimity and an ersatz, strictly temporary “peace”. When that “peace” is frazzled, it is time to find another scapegoat, another victim to sacrifice. What happens on a small scale in classrooms, dorm rooms, playgrounds and corporate offices happens on a larger scale in parliaments, palaces, and capital cities. Whether it is Islamic radicals rallying their followers against America, the “great Satan” or fundamentalist preachers threatening to burn the Koran the outcome is the same. In other words, what happened to Tyler Clementi was, so far as humanity is concerned, business as usual.

While many in the media are professing shock at what happened I am yet to hear anyone wonder if the climate nurtured by our media contributed to the suicide of Clementi. It is not that our media is any nastier than, say, the reporters and political cartoonists of the 19th century. Reporting, particularly political reporting, has always been a vicious game. It is rather that our current media people have more powerful tools to humiliate and denigrate their opponents. We have become used to “gotcha” journalism—reporters waiting around for a politician or other public figure to say something incautious. Reporters complain about political figures who speak in a careful and scripted manner. But when every offhand and thoughtless remark can be rebroadcast and distorted throughout the 24 hour news cycle, it is little wonder our politicians say as little as possible. “Gotcha” journalism is particularly evident during this political season. The suggestion that Social Security may need to be overhauled, for example, is distorted into a charge that this candidate wants to take away the social safety net and let seniors starve to death!

Savage mockery and brutal distortions for the sake of political gains or ratings growth is as American as apple pie. We see it every day on CNN and Fox. Its very popularity is a damning indictment of our culture. We evidently long to see the “other” humiliated. We long to see “our side” vindicated even if it as at the expense of the truth and common decency. Yes, sometimes the actions of our leaders need to be exposed and challenged. Yes, questions should be raised about going to war or raising taxes or bailing out banks. But if we accept the cruelties and venalities of junk journalism, if we put endure without protest the lies and distortions of pundits and politicians, we make ourselves complicit in a culture of corruption—the kind of culture that leads a young man to kill himself because someone thought it a hoot to expose and ridicule him.

John E. Phelan, Jr. is Senior Professor of Theological Studies for the North Park Theological Seminary. This post is reprinted with his permission from his blog: Additional Markings

The Internet and Civil Discourse

I was a child during the McCarthy hearings, a teenager during the key years of the civil rights struggle, and a young adult during the escalation of the Vietnam War. I have lived through protests and riots, murders and assassinations. I remember James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner buried in an earthen dam in Mississippi in 1964. I remember vividly the assassinations of John Kennedy in 1963 and of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy in 1968. In many ways the latter year, the year I graduated from high school, was one of the worst in American history. For me the 50s were no “golden era” in American history, but a time of brutality and conflict over the very soul of the country. I grew up in the American south, in Tennessee and saw and heard the racism and xenophobia that held my home state and region in thrall.

You would think that having lived through all this I would take our current conflicts in stride. As far as we know there are no bodies buried in Mississippi dams. Protests have been rather mild. No major political figure has been assassinated—yet. And yet, I find myself more concerned, more fearful of the state of the country than I ever have been. I fear we are standing at the brink of an era of bigotry and bloodshed that will make the 50s and 60s seem tame in comparison. I say this because we are living in an era of dehumanization fostered by the anonymity of the internet and the outrageous behavior of media personalities who mock, sneer, and demean their opponents with evident impunity. And the first step to brutality and murder is dehumanization.

Throughout the 20th century, perhaps the most murderous century in human history, the first step to genocide was dehumanization. Whether the hated minorities were capitalists or communists, Jews or Serbs, Hutus or Tutsis, the strategy was the same. They were vermin, cockroaches or leeches. There were infections or cancers on the body politic. They were diminished with crude epithets and mocked via cartoonish depictions. They were less than human. As a result they could be killed with impunity. Who worries over much about the fate of a rat? Whether they were locked up in camps, lined up and shot, imprisoned and starved to death, or sunk in misery at the margins of society, dehumanization was an aid to their demise.

Whether we are given the language of demonization by Glenn Back or Keith Olbermann, whether it comes from the Tea Party or Moveon.org, the result is the same. Human beings are reduced at best to intellectual stick figures and at worst to insects or viruses to be eliminated at all costs. Although the media and our politicians are to blame for fanning the flames of bigotry and fear, we are to blame for listening and responding. We no longer hear genuine concerns. We scoff at honest objections. As a result, truth is a victim of ideology. I have my views and convictions like everyone else. But I want to listen—because I could be wrong. And perhaps more important, I know people whose views are very different than mine who are generous, loving, good-hearted people—many in my own family.

It is tempting in such a brutal time to fall into despair. And I would be less than honest if I did not acknowledge that there are days I want to find that cabin in the woods. I am genuinely concerned about the world I am bequeathing to the grandchild that is on the way. But I am a Christian. And that means I live in hope. Not the “hope” or “change” offered every four years by politicians, but the hope of the new heavens and the new earth--the hope of resurrection. And I believe that the job of the church is to bring the light and life of the coming kingdom into the darkness and death of the present. Years ago Stanley Hauerwas argued that the failure of a Christian couple to desire children is a failure of hope and faith. Having children, he suggested, was a way of declaring our confidence in God in spite of the circumstances. So I look forward to welcoming a granddaughter and live in faith, hope, and love. But I also hope for a world in which she will be able to state her views without being diminished and scorned.

John E. Phelan, Jr. is Senior Professor of Theological Studies for the North Park Theological Seminary. This post is reprinted with his permission from his blog: Additional Markings

World Travels Lead Back to Luther and Ramabai

I have had a busy summer 2010. In May, I taught a course on World Religions at North Park University. In June I taught in Germany, a course on ancient texts called the Targums, in the language spoken during the time of Jesus, called the Aramaic. In July, I led a delegation of Covenant World Relief to see the work done in the slums of Mumbai, Pune, and Delhi, India. During my time in Germany and India, I had some of the most fascinating experiences related to the translation of the Bible.

In Germany, I taught every day except for Sundays. One Sunday, I decided to take the train to a place called Eisenach. This town was in former East Germany. In this town, there is a castle called the Wartburg Castle. In this castle, a crucial historical person by the name of Martin Luther hid for 10 months because his life was in danger. He lived there in a room under the disguise of Junker George. He grew his hair and his beard so that no one would recognize him.

Yet, during this time, he did not waste his time in despair. Instead, he got busy translating the New Testament from Greek into the language of the common people—German. He believed that the Bible alone had the power to transform society and give people true freedom. For this to happen, they had to read the Bible in their own common language. He considered this task to be so important that it took him 10 weeks to translate the New Testament into German. This New Testament is called the September Testament.

When I went to Wartburg Palace, the guide talked about all the other things that happened in the palace—how the princes and princesses ate, drank, and made merry. Finally, she said, “There is a room in this palace that was used by a person by the name of Martin Luther.” It is sad that people have forgotten the immense historical significance of the event, which took place in this room, in September 1521.

I spent much time in prayer and meditation in this room.

In India, I decided to stay after the delegation left for the USA. I took a trip to Kedgaon, in a state called Maharashtra. At this place, in the early 1900s, a woman by the name of Ramabai accomplished the same task that Martin Luther accomplished for Europe. She translated the whole Bible from Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek into the language of the common people in India.

Ramabai was raised in a high caste family. In a culture which disdained womanhood, she learned Sanskrit, the language of the high caste gurus. She then married a low caste person, much to the contempt of her high caste relatives. Her study of the state of women in Hindu society led her to a wide quest for solutions for women in India. She eventually found the solution in the person and work of Jesus. She came to the conclusion that if this Jesus could give freedom to the Samaritan woman, and other women in biblical times, he could do the same for women in India today.

Fueled by this realization and calling, she began rescuing girls from temple prostitution, and from child widowhood, and female infanticide. She opened a huge home for hundreds of girls that she rescued. Parents began bringing female babies to her doorstep, instead of killing them. Her work of the emancipation of female slaves of various kinds continues today at Ramabai Mukti Mission, Kedgaon, India.

Ramabai did not merely rescue these hundreds of girls. She educated them, and trained them to multiply the task she had begun. At Mukti, I was taken to a room where Ramabai translated the whole Bible into the low caste language Marathi. She trained the girls to help her translate and put the text into print.

I spent much time in prayer and meditation in this room.

It is people like Luther and Ramabai who have sacrificially made it possible for us to read God’s Word in our languages. They did this because they came to the realization that the words of the Bible have the transformative power to radically change society; to give hope and freedom to the poor, the enslaved, widows, and more.

May we also spend much time in prayer and meditation!

May we be blessed with Luthers and Ramabais for our time!

Dr. R. Boaz Johnson, Chair, Department of Biblical and Theological Studies; and Director, Division of Christian Life and Thought

Spark in Zambia Dedicates Shelby Goldstein Schoolhouse

Saturday, June 26 was the dedication of the Shelby Goldstein Schoolhouse in Twapia—a village outside of Zambia. Last year, Spark Ventures raised the money to fund the construction of this new seven-classroom building now serving more than 350 orphans and vulnerable children. Many generous people invested in our Igniting Hope/Building a Future campaign. And we say thanks to all of you. One family made a very large contribution in honor of young Shelby Goldstein, who died at the age of four. Her memory and spirit of joy and the love of learning now live on at Hope Community School in this new facility, a building that is helping provide hundreds of extremely poor children with education, nutrition, and health care, thanks to the Spark-Hope partnership.

The ceremony was filled with singing and speeches, dancing and dignitaries. Board Member Tasha Seitz read a beautiful reflection on Shelby and message from the family. Joyful children, families, friends, colleagues, and community members came to mark the official opening. We'll have more about this important event in Spark's history in the coming weeks on our website. For now, a special thank you to Shank and Renee Lyer and Greg and Rachelle Goldstein for helping make this possible.

Here are just a few pictures from the day.

Crowd at the dedication. Zambian and USA flags in the background.

The student choir performing during the ceremony.

Churchill Lombanya (advisor to the President of Zambia), Rich Johnson, and Charles Mumba (Executive Director of Spark’s partner Hope Ministries.

All quiet on the school front a few days before the celebration.

To follow the Spark in Zambia story, visit the Spark in Zambia blog.

Rich Johnson is the Director of University Ministries at North Park University.

A Canonical Journey through the Bible – Reading 12

Readings: Genesis 11; Isaiah 11; Matt: 12:15-42; Acts 2:1-12

In the Christian calendar, this year May 23, 2010 was celebrated as Pentecost Sunday. It is the remembrance of the day when the Holy Spirit descended upon the early disciples of Jesus. The narrative is found in Acts 2. In the Greek text, the words of Acts 2:1 are literally, “When the Day of Pentecost had come to its full fruition, they were all ‘at one in one’.”

There was a sense of oneness among the early disciples of Jesus, in spite of a seeming lostness of the past days. They had recently witnessed the horrible crucifixion of their Messiah and Lord. On the third day, they witnessed a remarkable event—the resurrection. Thereafter, for a period of 40 days, the risen Messiah appeared to them intermittently. Sometimes he would just appear to them in a room, while the doors were shut. At other times, he would appear to them while they were walking along the road.

Then, on the 40th day, he was taken up from their presence into the sky, while they looked up—quite dumbfounded. Now, it was the 50th day. It was the Day of Pentecost. It was a remembrance of the giving of the Torah to Moses in the wilderness. They somehow sensed that something was going to happen. They were “at one in one”–(the word “place” is not there in the Greek).  There was eager expectation.

In the Jewish liturgy, the Torah reading for the day focused on Genesis 11. It reminded them of the time when the languages of humanity were confused. However, it also reminded them of a period of time in the history of humanity which may be termed as an Ideational period. It was a time when globally people worshipped one God. This is borne out by archeology.

In the Indus Valley civilization, this God was called the Dyaus Pitr; in the ancient Chinese civilization, this God was called Shang-ti; and in Sumerian civilization, he was called AN. In all these texts, he is described as the Heavenly One, who is the creator and is holy.

Archeology further shows us that that later, somewhere between 2500 and 1500 BC, global society degenerates into polytheism. Genesis 11 describes this period. First, it describes the earlier Ideational period, a time when there was “One tongue and One Word” (Gen. 11:1, literal translation). However, after this time, humanity degenerates into Idealistic polytheistic religions. Human beings sought to build temples, to “make a name for themselves.” (Genesis 11:4). During this time, high-class priestly and kingly people developed high-class gods. Through these, “they made divine names for themselves,” which had to be worshipped by the low-class people. Historically, this era saw the development of many polytheistic religions across the world—religions which were used as tools to enslave thousands of low-class people. Polytheistic religion was thus a tool for injustice against the poor, low-class masses. The scattering and confusion of the Babel in Genesis 11 was to stem the intensity and tide of these unjust religions.

Unfortunately, the history of Israel as it is found in the Bible shows that the people of God who were themselves saved from the slavery of the high-class gods and priests of Egypt also succumbed to the injustice oriented practices found in ancient Near-Eastern societies. They worshipped pagan gods and goddesses, and this caused a chasm in society.

The widows and orphans of the poor were no longer cared for.  The rich people, who worshipped these gods and goddesses, like Baal and Ashtoreth, became richer, while the poor became poorer.  The prophets tell us that as a result of this, the people of Israel and Judah were also “dispersed” into different parts of the world.  They became the victims of slavery, which they themselves practiced.

Was there any hope left?

The prophets affirm that the only hope is found it the coming of a Messiah. This was the text, which was read on the Day of Pentecost. In Isaiah 11, the prophet Isaiah looks towards the time when the Messiah will come from “the root of Jesse,” i.e., from the family of David (Isaiah 11:1). He will bring about justice. “He will assemble the ‘outcastes’ of Israel and gather the ‘dispersed’ of Judah (Isaiah 11:12). There will be justice and reconciliation between those who suffered injustice and those who were the perpetrators of injustice.  The latter will confess their sins and injustices.

This expectation of the prophet Isaiah is fulfilled in the life and work of Jesus the Messiah.  In Matthew 12, the crowds follow him and the text says, “this was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah…he will proclaim justice to the nations, the Gentiles…in his name the Gentiles will hope” (Matthew 12:18, 21). These are the same ethnos, Gentiles who are scattered on the face of the earth, in Genesis 11. Yet, they come looking for justice and salvation.

In Acts 2, on the day of Pentecost, what began in Genesis 11 comes full circle.  The narrative tells us that people are gathered from different parts of the then-known world in one place, Jerusalem. They witness an amazing event. Divided tongues of fire descended upon the early disciples, and they began speaking in all the languages of the dispersed people.  They spoke the one name through whom injustice would come to an end—the name of Jesus the Messiah (Acts 2:22).  The dispersed are gathered into one community—the community of the Church.

When I look at the modern Church today, sometimes I wonder: do we picture the dispersed and confused societies of the world, or do we picture the unity, salvation, and justice of the Acts 2 Church?

Boaz Johnson is Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies

Why do we try to solve environmental problems by eliminating the cause?

Try the following experiment: Pick any environmental problem and then write down the first three solutions to that problem that come to your mind. Now, go through each solution, and note whether that solution somehow involves eliminating the cause of the problem. For example, if you listed air pollution as your problem, perhaps your solutions were to put better scrubbers on power plants, give incentives for people to junk older automobiles, and make lawn mowers less polluting. If so, you’re three for three: all three of your solutions would involve eliminating the cause of the problem, in this case sources of air pollutants. 

Now if I were a betting man, I'd wager that the vast majority of us would have done something similar, namely, provide solutions that focused on eliminating the cause of the problem. But why should eliminating the cause be our preferred type of solution?  Certainly, there are many different types of solutions available. To get a sense of what kinds, let's first consider that we can think of all problems as having the following form:

A " B

where A is some action or activity, B is some consequence with undesirable traits, and """ is the causal connection between A and B. Thus, the three possible solutions to any problem (beyond doing nothing) are to eliminate or remove A, to eliminate or remove the connection between A and B, or to isolate B so none of the undesirable features of B can affect others.  

For the case of pollution by hazardous waste, A might be the dumping of the waste into the ground, B the exposure of the waste to people or animals, and """ the process by which the waste reaches people. For the case of global warming, A might be anthropogenic emissions of carbon dioxide, B might be increased global mean surface temperature, and """ the greenhouse effect. Of course, for any given environmental problem, there may be multiple causes, effects, and connections between the two, but in principle, we can think of all solutions to environmental problems as falling into these three categories.

As an example of these kinds of solutions, consider our hazardous waste scenario. A solution that eliminates the cause might be to remove the waste from the ground altogether, such as by excavation. A solution of the second type, to break the connection between the cause and effect, might be to cordon off the contaminated area so human beings and animals cannot access it. An example of the third type of solution might be to make medical treatments available to those who are exposed that prevent those people from being harmed (e.g., an antidote of some sort).  

For the case of global warming, an example of eliminating the cause would be measures to decrease emissions of carbon dioxide, such as by decreasing fossil fuel use, capturing and sequestering carbon dioxide at the point of power generation, improved energy conservation measures, etc. An example of breaking the connection between A and B is a proposal to place gigantic parasols in space to shade the Earth from part of the incoming solar radiation, to balance out the increase in temperature due to the increase in carbon dioxide. And examples of the last solution include moving houses out of areas vulnerable to increased storm activity (such as floodplains), building sea walls to combat sea-level rise, etc.  

Each of these different types of solutions has its own strengths and weaknesses, and many different factors contribute to the desirability of each option: cost, effectiveness, ethical concerns, scientific uncertainty, etc. And it is beyond the scope of this post to address what standards we should use to decide between these types of solutions. Instead, I only want to note that for real-world problems, though many of us prefer only one type of solution (eliminating the cause), many times the solution that is actually implemented is of the other two types. For instance, with respect to hazardous waste, removal of the waste may be deemed unsafe or too costly, with isolating the waste from the community being preferred. When the hazardous waste is something very hazardous, and the "environment" is the entire Earth (such as with high-level radioactive waste from nuclear power plants), isolation is the only realistically feasible solution; removal by launching the waste into the Sun, while intriguing, is currently very difficult to accomplish safely.  

Which brings me back to my earlier question:  why do we so seldom think of other solutions besides eliminating the cause? If as a society we always solve our environmental problems by implementing the eliminate-the-cause solution, it would make sense for us to have that solution-type as our default. But that is not what we do as a society.  So why the preference for eliminating the cause? I have some of my own ideas, but since this is a blog, let me throw this question out to you. What do you think? Do we have such a preference? Why or why not? Is this good or bad?

-Johnny Wei-Bing Lin, Associate Professor of Physics

A Canonical Journey through the Bible – Reading 11

Readings: Genesis 1; Genesis 50; Joshua 1; Malachi 4; Psalm 1; Matthew 28

The canonical journey through the Gospels ends in an amazing miracle—the resurrection of Jesus the Messiah. Matthew’s account—the Gospel in our series—begins with the narrative of Mary Magdalene, with the other Mary going to the sepulcher on “the first day of the week… And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow… the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen.” (Matthew 28:1-6).

The themes which are underlined in the Resurrection narrative of Jesus are quite clearly themes which are intentionally related to the beginning and the end of the Torah; the beginning and the end of the Prophets, the second section of the Hebrew Bible; and the beginning and end of the Hebrew Writings, the third section of the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament). In the interpretive study of the Bible, this is called biblical intertextuality.

The Gospels stress that Jesus rises on the “first day of the week.” This is the day when God began creation. He created the light (Genesis 1:1-4). This is a resurrection theme. Genesis 50 ends with the death of Jacob and Joseph. Yet there is a hope of resurrection. This hope is depicted in narration of Jacob being buried in the Promised Land. Deuteronomy 34 ends in the death of Moses, yet before he dies he sees the hope of resurrection in the Promised Land. Hebrew Prophets begins with Joshua 1, with a new resurrected community in the Promised Land. Malachi, the last prophet, ends with the hope of resurrection. A new Elijah would proclaim this resurrection (Malachi 4). The Hebrew Writings, the third section of the Hebrew Bible, begins with Psalm 1. It describes an ideal human being who is compared to an everlasting tree—a resurrection theme (Psalm 1:3). Hebrew Writings then ends with the hope for a new resurrected earth, where the land will “enjoy its Sabbaths.” (1 Chronicles 36:21).

It is clear from this brief overview that at crucial junctures, the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament) looks forward to resurrection. The resurrection narrative of Jesus the Messiah, in the Gospels, stresses that all these aspirations in the Hebrew Bible are fulfilled in Jesus, the resurrected Messiah. Through him, there is the hope for a new resurrection for humanity and for all creation.

When Matthew describes the resurrection of Jesus, he intentionally stresses themes which are found in the Creation narrative of Genesis 1. Allow me to explain some of these themes, in the following section.

In Genesis 1, “on the first day”, the very first entity God created was “Light.” Themes of light also surround the resurrection narrative in Matthew 28. This is the distinct opposite ofthemes which surround the crucifixion and burial of Jesus. Intertextually, these themes are related to the state of the universe before creation. Genesis 1:2 reads, “ The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” Matthew notes that when Jesus was crucified, “there was darkness over all the earth (land) from noon till 3 PM. About 3 PM Jesus cried out the words of the Messianic Psalm 22, Eli Eli Lamah Sabachthani, My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:45, 46).

The themes that are stressed in the crucifixion and burial of Jesus bring the universe back to state of pre-creation. There is darkness. There is earthquake, and the like. Yet it should be mentioned that there is a note of hope, seen in Genesis 1:2—“the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters.” These words suggest that despite the seeming hopelessness, there is the hope of creation. The crucifixion and burial narratives give the same sense of hope—something good will come out of this horrible de-creation. This hope finally materializes in resurrection, just as the foreboding darkness of pre-creation finally and distinctly results in creation.

Much can be written about the intertextual relationship. Let me stress one more theme. It is significant to note that the women were told by the messengers (angels) of God, “Go quickly, tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead.” (Matthew 28:7). This is the crux of the message of resurrection. Jesus the Messiah’s resurrection initiates a new creation. He conquers death, which is the consequence of de-creation, and then initiates re-creation through his resurrection.

Why is it that it is women who are the first ones to proclaim this crucial resurrection message? May I suggest that it is because women have historically and internationally suffered the most awful consequences of de-creation and human fallenness.The first act of re-creation and resurrection is an amazing elevation of the status of women. They are told to proclaim the word of resurrection. It seems to me that this carries intentional intertextuality, with God proclaiming in Genesis 1, “Let there be light, and there was light . . . God called the light day.” The first “proclaimers” in the resurrection narrative are poor women who were ostracized by society: Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary. It seems clear that the resurrection narrative seeks to resurrect the status of women to what it was meant to be in the creation narrative. The Resurrection of Jesus the Messiah carries amazingly complex ramifications.

This canonical reading makes it very clear to me that the call of Christianity today is to be a Resurrection Community, a Re-creation community. In doing so, the Church is called to transform all aspects of de-creation in the world today into re-creation and resurrection.

May we live the message of resurrection: “He is risen from the dead.”

Dr. R. Boaz Johnson, Chair, Department of Biblical and Theological Studies; and Director, Division of Christian Life and Thought

A Canonical Journey through the Bible – Reading 10

Genesis 50:22-26; Deut. 34:1-12; Malachi 4:4-6; Psalm 21; Matthew 17:1-13

One of the last major encounters with his disciples before Jesus enters into Jerusalem for the Holy Week is called the Transfiguration on the Mount. It is found in Matthew 17. Significantly, it happens six days after Peter, the spokesperson for the disciples, declares Jesus to be the Divine Messiah (Matthew 16:16). In this text, Jesus leads Peter, James, and his brother John to a high mountain. There Jesus is “transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light. And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah talking with him” (Matt. 17:2-3).  Why Moses and Elijah? What is the relationship between Jesus, Moses, and Elijah?
 
It is significant to observe that reference to Moses and Elijah is found as the grand finale of three sections of the Hebrew Bible¾the Torah, the Pentateuch; the Prophets; and the Writings. Moses, the great Law Giver, is the one who spoke with God “face to face;” thus he was given the Torah. The ending of the Torah declares, “there has not arisen a prophet since in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face, none like him for all the signs and wonders the LORD sent him to do” (Deut. 34:10-11). The rest of the Hebrew Bible—the Historical prophets and the Classical Prophets—is a quest for this “Mosaic Prophet.” Many prophets come and go. Yet, there is none like this special Prophet. The ending of the Prophets therefore declares, “Remember, the Torah of Moses . . . Behold, I will send you Elijah the Prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.” (Malachi 4:5). Elijah, the prophet par excellence of this second section of the Hebrew Bible, it is anticipated, will come to prepare the way of this special Prophet.
 
Interestingly, the ending of Genesis, the last part of the Joseph narrative which we have been studying, also declares the same thing. Joseph declares, “God will visit (Hebrew, paqad) you.” (Genesis 50:25). God, indeed, does “visit” the people during special times, during the course of the history of God’s people. One of those dramatic points of visitation is depicted in the last part of the Hebrew Writings, the last chapter of 2 Chronicles. (We must note that Chronicles is the last book of the Hebrew Bible). In this, a pagan king, Cyrus king of Persia, declares, “the LORD, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and has charged (literally, visited me, Hebrew, paqad) to build him a house in Jerusalem.” (2 Chronicles 36:23). God did indeed “visit” his people after Genesis, in the Exodus narrative. God also did “visit” his people during the days of Ezra and Nehemiah. However, these “visitations” of God were nothing compared to this final visitation. In the light of these climactic texts, the Jewish people were anticipating a climactic “visitation, paqad” of God.
 
The Matthew account of transfiguration must be seen in the light of these crucial climactic passages of the Hebrew Bible. Significantly, while Peter was saying, “Let us build three shrines, one for Moses, one for Elijah, and one for you,” the other two—Moses and Elijah—disappeared. The narrative says, “They saw no one but Jesus only,” (Matt. 17:7), “and a voice from the cloud said, ‘this is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him’” (Matt. 17:5). This is the final “visitation” of God, which both the Torah and the Prophets anticipated.
 
The final and complete “visitation” of God, the human face of God, the Messiah, in the following days, goes to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. He celebrates Passover with his disciples, and declares himself to be the Passover Lamb. Then on Good Friday, this Passover Lamb was sacrificed on the Cross. This is not the end of the story, thankfully. On the Day of Firstfruits, or Day of Resurrection, he rises from the dead. He forever becomes the Transfigured One, the glorious “Visitation of God.”
 
May we have a visitation of God during this Holy Week.
 
Dr. R. Boaz Johnson, Professor and Chair, Department of Biblical and Theological Studies; Director, Division of Christian Life and Thought

A Canonical Journey through the Bible – Reading 9

Genesis 37, 39-41; Psalm 18; Matthew 16

I have just returned from India, along with a group of 17 students and some Covenant pastors. We, along with an organization called Truthseekers, went to India to serve the poorest of poor people in the slums of North India. I am very proud of our students. Most university students in the USA would rather go to places like the beaches of Florida. But these students decided to spend their spring break serving the low caste people of India, who have been enslaved by the high caste people of India for hundreds of years. It is estimated that these people comprise 80% of the population of India. 

In New Delhi, we also visited the slum where I was born and reared. Unfortunately, the majority of the slum has been destroyed and the hundreds of people who lived in my slum have been evacuated to far flung areas outside Delhi, where they find themselves in deeper poverty, and prone to more enslavement.

This week was a life changing experience for my students. It seems to me that during spring break 2010, my students and I learnt in a profound way the meaning of the incarnation of Christ, and of Lent. God became human⎯the Word became flesh, to “come down” to the slums of humanity, to live and die on the Cross.

In this series of blogs, we have been making a canonical journey through the Bible. In the light of the season of Lent, in the next few blogs, I want to fast-forward to the last days of the life of Jesus, and the concomitant canonical readings from the Hebrew Bible. 

We begin with Matthew 16. Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Of course, people had all sorts of interpretations. Then Jesus asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter, the ever-ready one, responds, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” This is what I call a fulcrum text, a text around which the whole Gospel revolves. Once the disciples get this crucial lesson about the person of Jesus, the text says, “From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” (Matthew 16:21). This is the main purpose of the Incarnation of God. This ought to be the central focus of an incarnational people of God. The Hebrew Bible’s portrayal of God is precisely this. 

The Bible reveals to us the creator God, the Sovereign King of the universe. Yet we see this God reveal himself as the one who suffers with the poorest of poor, the lowliest of low people. We see this in Genesis 4, where God says to Cain, the murderer, “What have you done? The voice of your brother cries out (to me) from the ground.” (Genesis 4:10). The concomitant Torah reading from the life of Joseph shows the same theology of God. 

Joseph is sold into slavery. He “goes down” into Egypt (Genesis 37:25 ff; Genesis 39:1). On many occasions he was saved from being hung on the “tree,” as was the lot of one of the people, whose dream Joseph had interpreted (Gen 40:19, 22). Egypt is called the land of “his suffering,” (Gen. 41:52). Towards the later part of the Joseph narrative, God says to Jacob, “I am the God, the God of your father. Do not be afraid to ‘go down’ to Egypt . . . I myself will ‘go down’ with you to Egypt” (Genesis 46:3, 4). The children of Israel suffer brutally under the hands of the cruel Pharaoh (Exodus 1). Yet God “goes down” and suffers with his people. He reveals himself to Moses, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters. I know their sufferings, and I have ‘come down’ to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians” (Exodus 3:8).

Throughout the Hebrew Bible, God is depicted as one who suffers for the weak and downtrodden. The final revelation of God is indeed seen in the last days of the life of Jesus the Messiah. God became incarnate, so that he might show the apex of suffering and die⎯indeed, die for the poorest of the poor.

It seems to me that just like Jesus, our students this week, in a very real way, experienced the suffering of the outcastes and the low castes in India. The sights, sounds, and images of suffering, I am certain are indelibly etched on their minds and hearts. In many senses, just like Jesus, our students learnt what it means to be an incarnational community during this season of Lent. 

See the entire online photo album of the trip to India.

–Dr. Boaz Johnson, Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies