Interpreting the NT with Coins

My first post at Near Emmaus has just gone up, and I encourage you to go check it out, if New Testament interpretation is your thing. It involves ancient coins, Revelation, and the mark of the beast.

Hope that whets your appetite.

Numismatics: An Underutilized Tool for NT Interpretation?

R. Albert Mohler, Jr., Homosexuality, and the Irresponsible Exegesis of Scripture

File this one under "Johnny-Come-Lately" for me. This story is a bit old, and I'm just now coming around to writing about it.

Near the end of May this year, CNN's BeliefNet Blog published an editorial by Al Mohler, the president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, KY, entitled, "My Take: The Bible Condemns A Lot, But Here's Why We Focus On Homosexuality." In this piece, Mohler presents a frequent objection to the fundamentalist interpretation of scripture over the issue of homosexuality; he then refutes this objection and mounts a less-than-convincing counter-argument of his own, citing selected snippets from the Pauline epistles and even (ironically) a quote extracted from a discourse on marital divorce in the ethical teachings of Jesus.

I would typically not even resort to responding to this kind of fundamentalist silliness—I am not a fundamentalist, and therefore quite simply do not view faith or scripture in the same way as Mohler. Personal beliefs on homosexuality aside, there is no need for fruitless debate between two people who by definition see the role of the Bible in completely different ways; two cars traveling on different streets three blocks apart will never meet. However, Dr. Mohler's haphazard treatment of scripture in his editorial left me scratching my head, and I have felt compelled to address him on his own terms.

A common argument for Christian acceptance and affirmation of LGBTQ individuals is that the so-called "clobber passages" which supposedly condemn homosexuality are found primarily in the Hebrew Bible, among other laws that have since become passé or culturally obsolete. Laying aside for a moment the fact that these scriptures are actually quite few in number, as well as the fact that the homosexual/trans* identity as we know it did not even exist until well into the 20th century, the point is, nevertheless, that Christians do not continue to abide by the commands to abstain from eating shellfish or pork, planting two different crops side-by-side, or wearing clothes of two different fabrics. This argument was made (in)famous by its appearance in an episode of the spectacularly written Aaron Sorkin political drama, The West Wing:

The above claim is the first argument with which Mohler takes issue in his essay.

"An honest consideration of the Bible," Mohler says, "reveals that most of the biblical laws people point to in asking this question, such as laws against eating shellfish or wearing mixed fabrics, are part of the holiness code assigned to Israel in the Old Testament." He then proceeds to cite Peter's vision in Acts 10 as evidence that Christians are no longer bound by the dietary restrictions of the holiness code. In the Acts passage, a hungry Peter sees a sheet descending from the sky with ritually unclean animals on it, accompanied by a disembodied voice commanding the disciple to "Get up; kill and eat." Peter vehemently refuses on the grounds of the Jewish holiness tradition, at which point the voice commands a second time, and then a third. Each time, Peter refuses. Finally, the sheet is whisked away into the heavens, and the voice responds, "What God has made clean, you must not call profane." To Mohler, this is enough evidence to disregard the above argument.

"In other words," he says, "there is no kosher code for Christians. Christians are not concerned with eating kosher foods and avoiding all others. That part of the law is no longer binding, and Christians can enjoy shrimp and pork with no injury to conscience."

This seems a solid enough interpretation, until one considers the fact that the story does not end here. What Mohler claims to be a conclusion reached by any "honest consideration of the Bible" is in fact a gross distortion and misrepresentation of the text.

Much of the theological narrative of The Acts of the Apostles is directly aimed at bringing and accepting Gentiles (i.e. non-Jews, outsiders, foreigners) into the Church, an emerging community of Jewish believers centered on the religious teachings of Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth. This context sets the backdrop for reading and properly interpreting Acts 10. Immediately following his vision, Peter is contacted by a Gentile in Caesarea Maritima named Cornelius, who requests that Peter come visit him at his home. By the time Peter arrives, it appears that he has finally worked out the meaning of his strange vision mentioned above:

And as [Peter] talked with [Cornelius], he went in[to the house] and found that many had assembled. And he said to them, "You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.

Peter's vision is not about food at all—it is about people. Mohler has here missed the mark quite dramatically. Somehow, Dr. Mohler—who holds a PhD in Systematic and Historical Theology—has overlooked the story's own self-explanation, and therefore broken the number one rule of biblical exegesis: If you're going to read the Bible, read the Bible. Mohler's interpretation of this passage not only does violence to the text itself by ascribing such a simplistic meaning to a complicated text (does he really think that this story was included in the Acts account for no other reason than to grant Christians the ability to chow down on shrimp and bacon?), but it also ironically opens the door to a more solid argument against the fundamentalist approach to homosexuality—that is, Christians are not called to pronounce the rejection/uncleanliness of individuals, but are to love and accept all with humility and divine reverence.

I would expect such a glaring and irresponsible exegetical error from a freshman undergrad Bible student—but from the president of the largest Christian seminary in the world? Something is amiss.

Furthermore, Mohler's interpretation addresses only the food-based portion of the argument. Several more questions remain, even without fully reading the Acts story: What about wearing clothes of two different fabrics, or planting two different crops next to one another? If Peter's vision was indeed intended as a lukewarm rescission of Jewish kosher law, how then does Mohler explain our lack of adherence to these non-food-related laws?

Such is the problem with the fundamentalist approach to scripture—in their tyrannical quest to accept the unilateral truth of the "whole Bible," fundamentalists are quite often led to the scriptural cherry-picking that they so fearfully and publicly decry.

Queering the Church, Part Two: Praxis

In my last post, I discussed how the letters of Paul are not as clear on the issue of homosexuality as many in the Church would prefer—indeed, of the two primary pericopae often utilized by “Christian” heterosexist pastors and theologians, the language is in some places quite murky. In contrast, however, Paul does iterate multiple times the absolute necessity of unity, fellowship, love, and submission to one another in the body of Christ. How then do we illustrate this to our congregations? How can the quickly growing field of biblical scholarship and gender studies begin to turn around such an ambling, socially and culturally stunted behemoth? I suggest that this might best be done by “queering” the Church.

             This term, coined by literary queer theorists and theologians in the 1990s, refers to the reappropriation by a marginalized group of a word or object that was previously used to degrade, demoralize, and dehumanize members of that group. Great theological strides have been made in recent years in “queering the Bible,” that is, reading and studying the Bible from an LGBTQ perspective. In this particular case, “queering the Church” refers to the act of making the Church—an institution whose most recognizable public trait is homophobia—into not only an institution which is unashamed and unafraid of its gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, but an institution which openly embraces them. But the term “queering” has another connotation, as well: the action of setting apart, or “peculiarizing.” This is a notion that has deep roots in the liberation theology of the Exodus: “You shall not wrong or oppress the stranger in your midst, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt.” In queering the Church, we should hope not only to become opened to the LGBTQ community, but stand out among our culture as God’s peculiar, inclusive people, for the simple reason that at some point in our long history, we knew what it was like to be despised, persecuted, “queer.” Is this not the greater mission of the body of Christ?

While it should be observed that no persecuted group has ever achieved justice with a magical catchall sermon or speech, I would here like to briefly outline five specific ways in which our congregations and faith communities might begin to push forward in this dialogue.

1. Begin the conversation

People fear what they do not understand. The more an issue can be discussed, however, the closer our brothers and sisters in the church can be moved toward understanding. David L. Tiede spells out the responsibility of church and seminary leaders to their congregations and students: 

Those who believe that the prevailing mores are unjust or oppressive must either garner the authority of the institutions which articulate and maintain the moral standards of the community or they must challenge that authority. Institutions such as seminaries, congregations, and church offices steward their legitimate authority in these matters more by persuasion than coercion. They must listen to the arguments of those who believe the standards are inept for the many or unjust to the few.[1] 

Sometimes the best way to initiate revolutionary change is to be open with our questions, and not be afraid to push back a little against the presumptions of others.

2. Illustrate the inherent misogyny that underlies homophobia.

As mentioned above, when the Bible is appealed to as a source of wisdom worthy of the so-called “problem” of homosexuality, it may be helpful to very carefully frame the issue within the historical context of misogyny in the ancient world. Most (though not all) modern Christians recoil from the accusation of sexism, and upon further discussion it will become evident to our congregations that our heterosexism is actually just thinly veiled sexism. As Martin claims, “The ancient condemnation of the penetrated man was possible only because sexist ideology had already inscribed the inferiority of women into heterosexual sex. To be penetrated was to be inferior because women were inferior.”[2] If we confront our churches and ourselves with the knowledge that our historical hatred of gays and lesbians is less about sin and morality than it is about deep-rooted assumptions about the superiority of men to women, we can then repent and begin to press beyond such social structures.

3. Be your faith community’s Paul.

            The Apostle Paul was perhaps the very first Christian contextual theologian, and we admire him for this. Should we not fulfill the same role for our congregations and faith communities that are struggling to accept gays into the family of God? Paul wrote on Kingdom ethics from a specific cultural and historical context. We should, therefore, also let our culture and historical context influence how we perceive Kingdom ethics today. It makes little sense to attempt to plug Paul’s contextual theology neatly into our own.

4. Value experience.

Our congregations have too long sat in the festering stagnant water of bibliolatry. When experience ceases to inform reason, and when scripture is treated as a god and not as a tool for communing with God, the Church will lose relevance. To prevent this, we must open ourselves to the moving of the Spirit in our lives, not restricting it to the pages of a book. It is criminally myopic for a church to publicly condemn gays without having ever met one. Actual face-to-face encounters with the LGBT community help to connect faces with the growing number of openly gay Christians who are struggling for a place in the Church, and it is hard to hate someone whom you know and love deeply. We simply cannot afford to place the Bible in such high esteem that we alienate and devalue the experience of others. Our churches need to develop a sensitivity to the Biblical text which is not often seen among people absolutely certain of the truth of their perspective, moving forward with fear and trembling.

5. Love.

Above all, we must love. Often, those claiming to be moderates circumvent the issue of
homosexuality by proclaiming that we should “hate the sin, not the sinner.” Unfortunately,
what we have thus far failed to grasp is that hate is the sin, as described by Paul in the
opening verses of Romans 2. It is easy to isolate two verses in 1 Corinthians 6 and read
what we want to hear from them, giving ourselves permission to discriminate and
marginalize by right of Biblical authority. It is a much more difficult task to take in the
entire letter through the pivotal locus of 1 Corinthians 13: unless we infuse our discourse
with openhearted love, we are but clanging cymbals. And now, perhaps more than ever, is
when the public needs to hear the melody of the Church ringing clearly, a song of freedom
and acceptance.

---

[1] Tiede, 153.

[2] Martin, 48.

Queering the Church: It's About Time (Part One)

Note: This is Part One of my two-part series on homosexuality and the Church. The first part examines supposed references to homosexuality in the letters of Paul; Part Two, which I will post tomorrow, will outline five primary ways to introduce this information to a church congregation.            

For the Evangelical Christian who leans even modestly leftward, it is not a difficult task to hermeneutically bypass Hebrew scripture that appears to condemn homosexual activity. The admonition found in Leviticus 20:13 that anyone found to be engaged in same-sex intercourse should be put to death can be cast in doubt simply by engaging in the process of questioning: In our current cultural context of modern and postmodern American Christianity, who should be deemed worthy by the public to carry out the sentencing of such a crime? Should it be our officers of the law who are to put all homosexuals to death? The absurdity of the question exposes the cultural and contextual gap between ancient Hebrew Yahwism and twenty-first century American globalism, and is often left unconsidered by many who vehemently defend what they call “traditional marriage.” The New Testament Gospels contain virtually no references to homosexuality at all (with the exception of a few queer theological interpretations of extracanonical Gospels[2]), so little can be argued from the authoritative words of Jesus of Nazareth. On this particular issue, he remains peculiarly silent. But what of the letters of Paul? How do we confront the theology of a man whose writings make up more than a quarter of the New Testament with our rapidly shifting knowledge of gender identity and human sexuality? Such is the aim of this study.

In Part One I will address two primary pericopae from the writings of the Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and Romans 1:24-27, and their literary, historical, and social context. In Part Two of this post, I will help to outline a method in which the material of Part One might be disseminated within a congregational or ministerial setting. 

PART ONE: Textual Analysis

1 Corinthians 6:9-10

Paul’s first letter to the Church in Corinth deals with several important issues with which the early Christians in that city struggled, particularly unity, holiness, love, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and sexual morality. It is the latter with which this section is concerned. Paul was undertaking no small task to preach to the Corinthians about sexual ethic. Of the cultural setting of Corinth, David L. Tiede writes, “Corinth was a town with a reputation for cosmopolitan airs, for bawdy sex in the marketplace, for crafty dealings among the traders at the port…The human meat markets of every age have looked about the same, and every generation has had its high priests of sexual freedom and pornography.”[3] With this context in mind, two words in particular should be given special attention from 1 Corinthians 6:9-10: arsenokoitai (arsenokoitai) and malakoi (malakoi).

            The fluidity of language has a long history of birthing numerous interpretations of the Biblical text, both in ancient times and throughout recent history. Dale B. Martin, in his excellent study of human sexuality and the Church, Sex and the Single Savior, notes that both of these mysterious terms included in Paul’s Corinthian vice list held, until the 19^th or 20^th century, a distinctly male connotation, with no respect to our modern concept of sexual orientation. The term arsenokoitai, for example, took on new meaning when the Greek noun—which refers solely to men—was translated in the early twentieth century with the generic label of “homosexual,” thereby feeding the growing misconception that both the male and female gay identity stemmed from what was commonly considered to be a mental disorder.[4]

Furthermore, Martin suggests that arsenokoitai (arsenokoiteV) has a much more specific meaning than any generic homosexual activity. This specific meaning might be lost to us, but contextual hints may be found in the Sibylline Oracles (2nd - 5th cent., CE), an ancient Greek text which utilizes the word in a vice list very similar to (yet totally independent of) Paul’s reference in 1 Corinthians. However, arsenokoiteV here takes on a distinctly economic meaning, sandwiched between such admonitions as “Do not steal seeds. Whoever takes for himself is accursed,” and “Give one who has labored his wage. Do not oppress the poor man.”[5] In addition, two other early Christian texts, The Acts of John (2^nd cent.) and Theophilus of Antioch’s To Autolychus, also include arsenokoiteV among economic vice lists.[6] It is possible that by including aresenokoitai among such sexual sinners as adulterers (moicoi) and fornicators (pornoi), Paul is attempting to single out those who are motivated by their own greed toward sexual exploitation. In any case, it should be pointed out that the exact definition of this term has been and will most likely remain a mystery, and that due to this ambiguity, translations will continue to be influenced by the particular ideological milieu or bias of the translator. 

Unlike arsenokoiteV, however, the word malakoV (plural: malakoi) does have a well-documented meaning. Long before Arnold Schwarzenegger referred to his political opponents as “girly-men,” the ancients used the term malakoV to refer to any man with a less-than-masculine demeanor, a physically feminine build, distaste for hard work, or an otherwise milquetoast disposition. Josephus and Plutarch both use the term in their writings to refer to the cowardly.[7] The Greek word is actually the etymological ancestor of the English word malleable, and means, literally, soft. Often translated together with arsenokoitai as “sexual perverts” or “homosexuals,” a much closer understanding of the word might be its original King James English translation, effeminate, which inadvertently takes into consideration the inherent sexism of Paul’s culture. Men were chiseled and virile, but women were weak, both in will and in physical stature. The ancient understanding of the feminine was very much influenced by the coital act—men were aggressive penetrators, while women were to passively allow themselves to be penetrated. Any man who was seen to be “soft” followed the natural order of distinction bestowed specifically upon women, and was therefore weak and cowardly. As Martin concludes, the difficulty with Paul’s use of the term malakoV is not the inherently sinful nature of homosexuality, but instead the “rank misogyny” implied by the term.[8] This concept will be explored further in Part II of this study, which will be posted tomorrow.

Romans 1:24-27

In this text-segment, as in the Corinthian correspondence, context becomes one of the key issues to interpreting the passage. It should first be noted that the overarching theme of the Romans letter involves the complicated interplay of salvation for the Jews and salvation for the Gentiles, and it is through this lens that Romans 1:24-27 must be viewed. Specifically, when Paul speaks of what many today consider to be a theological re-hashing of the Fall of Humanity, he is actually referring to the idolatry of the pre-Christian Gentiles, as is revealed by the preceding paragraphs.

It should not be overlooked or ignored that the primary sin that Paul is speaking against here is not some modern concept of sexual orientation, but the sin of idolatry. The  “exchanging of natural intercourse [Greek: cresin, or use] for unnatural” among men and women is not the sin being committed, but is instead punishment meted out by God for the sin of worshiping false gods! Furthermore, David L. Balch observes that “Paul is not evaluating homosexual ‘relationships,’ a modern value, but judges the psychological state of the person experiencing addictive desire…Paul's terms desire, passion, inflame, appetite, and error suggest that he is critiquing unbridled eros, sexual passion.”[9] Paul, like many other ancient moralists, viewed homosexual activity as “the most extreme expression of heterosexual lust.”[10] This interpretation of the pericope holds that Paul was instead noting the consequences of idolatry; that is, the total abandonment of will to appetite. Indeed, the link between sexual promiscuity and gluttony has been well-explored by recent scholars:

Sexual desire and hunger for food were thought to be analogous. The pleasure or use of sex is to be limited by satisfaction, as a full stomach limits eating. The Greco-Roman question of sexual use does not ask about the gender of the subject or the object, does not ask whether the activity is homo- or heterosexual.[11] 

Women being inflamed with passion for women and men being inflamed with passion for men is not, then, the result of any innate, natural, sexual orientation that causes one to be attracted to a person of the same sex, but is instead the carrying out of a natural sexual drive to its depraved ultimate conclusion.

Finally, it is a tragic irony that those who utilize this very passage as fuel for the fires of judgment against the LGBTQ community apparently (and most unfortunately) read no further than the end of the first chapter of Romans. The very next portion of the letter contains the following admonition:

Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, when you judge others; for in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things. You say, ‘We know that God’s judgment on those who do such things is in accordance with truth.’ Do you imagine, whoever you are, that when you judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself, you will escape the judgment of God? 

The same Paul who proclaims that the New Age of Christ has arrived, urging Gentiles and 

Jews alike to embrace one another as brothers and sisters, also writes to the Church in 

Galatia that “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no 

longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” This understanding of God 

as no respecter of persons bears a remarkable resemblance to Peter’s epiphany in Acts 10, 

as he preaches to Cornelius following his own vision regarding the acceptance of the 

profane: “You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a 

Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean.” As long 

as proof-texting is utilized by those perceived to be in power as a tool for marginalization 

and rejection of our gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender brothers and sisters, the church 

will never be seen by the oppressed as the catalyst for the New Age of Christ that Paul 

envisioned it to be.

---

[2] For more on this, see Teresa J. Hornsby and Ken Stone, Bible Trouble: Queer Reading at the Boundaries of Biblical Scholarship (Society of Biblical Literature Semeia Studies) (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), particularly Jione Havea‘s chapter, “Lazarus Troubles.”

[3] David L. Tiede, "Will idolaters, sodomizers, or the greedy inherit the kingdom of God : A pastoral exposition of 1 Cor 6:9-10." Word & World 10, no. 2 (March 1, 1990): 152.

[4] Dale B. Martin, Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), 39.

[5] Ibid, 40.

[6] Ibid, 41.

[7] Ibid, 45.

[8] Ibid, 47.

[9] Balch, David L. "Romans 1:24-27, Science, and Homosexuality." Currents In Theology And Mission 25, no. 6 (December 1, 1998): p 437.

[10] Victor Paul Furnish, “The Bible and Homosexuality,” in Homosexuality: In Search of a Christian Understanding, ed. by Leon Smith, p 13, quoted by Martin, p 49.

[11] Balch, 437.

Kingdom? What kingdom?

Not long ago, I was asked to read a piece of scripture for my seminary's spring convocation service. At this service, my wife and the rest of the students in her MDiv cohort will be commissioned as they prepare to travel on a pilgrimage to Burma, where they will be spend some of their time visiting a Burmese refugee camp.

The verses I was asked to read are from Luke 17:20-21:

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the Kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The Kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, “Look, here it is!” or “There it is!” For, in fact, the Kingdom of God is among you.’

There are lots of translational eccentricities with this text-segment. For instance, we have all heard it translated as "The Kingdom of God is among you," as well as the way in which it is picked up in Tolstoy's Christian anarchist manifesto, The Kingdom of God is Within You.  Since I was going to be reading this out loud to a large gathering of people, I felt it was important to get this right. I quickly shot a question back to the seminary: Should I say that the Kingdom of God is among you, or the Kingdom of God is within you? That one word makes all the difference: among implies that the Kingdom is physically present within the crowd (perhaps in the person of Jesus of Nazareth?), while within suggests that the Kingdom lives within the hearts and minds of those gathered.

Came the reply from the seminary: "You should use "The Reign of God is among you."

This brings up a completely different translational issue: what do we do about the word "Kingdom"?

The Greek word is βασιλεια (basileia), literally, "kingdom." But there are problems with translating this word literally—I'll get to that in a minute. Yesterday, while discussing this issue over coffee with friends, I began to develop a few possible answers (or, at least, conversational perspectives):

1. We should translate βασιλεια as "Kingdom." Two of my friends said that it's a good thing to leave well enough alone—the word kingdom is a good, accurate translation.

2. We should translate it as "Reign." This is understandable. The word kingdom has obvious bias based in a patriarchal society. Why not "Queendom of God"?

3. My friend Mark says that words like kingdom can have negative connotations within oppressed cultures, and suggests that "Dream of God" might be a better way to communicate the idea behind βασιλεια. This holds special meaning among societies who have gone through such economic and social hardship that they have let go of dreaming of future possibilities.

4. Still others say that we should leave the word in its Greek form. If we don't have an adequate translation, we should let the word speak for itself.

These are all good answers. The difficulty is that words like kingdom and reign have lost their meaning in the global culture of the 21st century. You don't see too many true blue kingdoms in the world anymore, and the word reign doesn't mean much within a democratic context. And the word dream (while certainly beautiful) fails to communicate the deeply political dichotomy between the Basileia of God and the Empire of Caesar in first-century Judea. I also think that leaving the word as it stands in Greek is difficult, as well, as Basileia doesn't adequately convey the passage's spiritual context to the normal, everyday (non-Greek speaking) person in the church pew.

I don't have a solid answer as to how this verse should be translated. I just know that 1) it should be appropriately political, 2) it should be deeply spiritual, and 3) it must be approachable from the perspective of "the least of these."
I'm interested in what you think. You can post your opinions in the comments below.

Everyday RevoLectionary, 10/16

Thoughts on the Gospel reading for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost:

In this strange story, we find Jesus being approached by Jewish representatives of two opposing ideological camps who are working together to trip him up: the disciples of the Pharisees and the Herodians. The pairing of these two groups is rather odd; while the Pharisees were a religious sect who opposed Roman imperialism (they were a religious class "for the people," truly the religious Tea Party of their day), the Herodians were a political movement of Jews who were supportive of Herod Antipas and the legacy of his father, Herod the Great, and were very likely supporters of the Roman occupation.

Faced by these opposing views, the question is asked of Jesus: "Do we pay taxes to the Empire, or don't we?"

If he says, "Yes, pay those taxes," he is supporting the Herodians and their enthusiasm for the political power of the Empire, suggesting that Jesus himself is more Roman than Jew; if he says "No, don't pay the taxes," he is liable to be arrested, or worse, executed as an insurrectionist and all-around rabble rouser.

The writer of Matthew is very interested in the relationship between the power of the Kingdom of Heaven and the power of earthly authority, especially when it comes to money.


Just a few chapters earlier, Jesus and his disciples are approached by the collectors of the Temple didrachma tax, asking if the Teacher "pays his dues" to the established religious order. Jesus suggests to Peter that children of the Heavenly Father should be exempt from paying such a tax, but—so as not to offend—he sends Peter to catch a fish, and in the fish's mouth is a stater coin (a tetradrachm, or four-drachma), which serves to pay the Temple tax for both Jesus and Peter. Strangely enough, the demands of the human institution are satisfied by nature's provision. 

The miracle of the fish exposes the triviality of the entire Temple tax system.

In both stories, Jesus is actually somewhat flippant, in a way that recalls his answer to Peter's question about "the disciple whom Jesus loved" at the end of the Gospel of John:


Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them; he was the one who had reclined next to Jesus at the supper and had said, ‘Lord, who is it that is going to betray you?’ When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, ‘Lord, what about him?’ Jesus said to him, ‘If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? Follow me!’—John 21:20-22 

In a dualistic world, Jesus is a perpetual proponent of the "third way." Jesus almost always answers with a non-answer to show that the issues which seem most pressing to us, in an eternal sense, are really non-issues. We betray our own humanity by consistently asking precisely the wrong questions.


"What about him?" we ask. "What about him?" Jesus answers.

So what is it that serves to "tax" you?

Jesus, do we pay taxes or not?
Jesus, do we support gay marriage or not?
Jesus, do we vote Democrat or Republican?
Jesus, do we support our five wars or not?
Jesus, do we shop at Wal Mart or not?

Jesus's response reminds us that the answer is both strikingly simple yet intimately complex:

"Don't bother me with trivialities. As for you, you follow me."

The Kingdom has bigger fish to fry.

Everyday Revo-Lectionary, 10/9

Thoughts on the Gospel reading for the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost:

Growing up, I attended a tiny United Methodist church in my hometown. It was there that I developed a fascination with church liturgy and holy day observance that has continued (with the occasional lapse here and there) to this day. We hung the greens for Advent and decorated the Christmas tree with chrismon ornaments that my great-grandmother had made, we held baptisms in the river not far from our chapel, and each spring practiced a number of somber observances for Holy Week. 

Every year on the morning of Good Friday, the 20 or 25 members of my church would gather together for a somber recitation of a Good Friday litany, followed by a breakfast of homemade hot cross buns, coffee, and "Russian Tea" (which I later learned was really just hot tea, orange juice, and cinnamon). For me, this simple gathering and observance of one of the holiest days on the Christian calendar has dug itself into my memory, and it has become an integral piece of my outward expression of my own faith.

photo credit

Every Good Friday for the last three years, I have tried to uphold the breakfast tradition so familiar to me from my childhood. Each year I wake up at 3 a.m. to begin making the hot cross buns from scratch; I keep a silent vigil while the dough rises, and at around 7 a.m., I put on some liturgical music to listen to while I wait for people to arrive. When everyone has gathered, we participate in a litany that I have written, followed by prayer, and just being together. 

However, in the last three years combined of keeping this tradition, I'm pretty sure I can count on one hand the number of people who joined me for Good Friday breakfast. This year, only one person showed up—our friend Lake. Alyssa and I were left with two enormous pans of fluffy, newly-iced hot cross buns, and no one else to eat them. 

At the time, we lived in a coffee shop, and the shop was open on that day. After it was clear that no one else was going to join us, Lake, Alyssa, and I took the hot cross buns downstairs and shared them with our community of friends there. Folks that came from a variety of backgrounds—very few were religious at all, let alone Christians who observed Good Friday. Gay, straight, Pagan, art students, biology students, young folks, older folks. People who came to mean a lot to us during our time at the shop. These were people that we loved. 

Perhaps not everyone grasped the gravity of the holiday—heck, we were giving out free buns! who cares about the religious tradition?—but we all certainly felt the importance of community and we all enjoyed one another's company. Though no one showed up to our planned event and we felt disappointed and under-appreciated for the briefest of moments, we were given the gift of celebrating community with food and conversation. To this day, that Good Friday has been one of the most memorable holy day observances I have ever experienced.

In our work for the Kingdom, sometimes we operate under the assumption that If you build it, they will come. And, most unfortunately, this is very often quite untrue. Sometimes people just aren't going to show, no matter how big you build it, or how well it is built. Sometimes our best ideas fall flat simply because of a lack of interest from others. Sometimes folks just don't want to get out of bed, even if for some delicious hot cross buns. 

There are many possible pieces of Christ's parable of the wedding banquet to fixate upon: the seemingly over-the-top rage of the king that essentially leads to the genocide of all who are "too busy" to come to the wedding (surprisingly, not an option I have previously considered for my Good Friday gatherings); I could go into Jewish wedding customs from the time of Christ; I could analyze why the king calls the mysterious robe-less man "Friend" before proceeding to throw him into the darkness for showing up without the proper attire (seems pretty harsh—beggars shouldn't be choosers, after all).

But to me, the entire parable hinges on verse 10. Those who were welcomed to the feast initially but turned down the invitation suddenly become the subject of the king's wrath. So his servants take to the streets dragging in everyone they can find. Good and bad, all are brought to the wedding feast together. The great message here is that it doesn't take the people who are "worthy" to build the Kingdom of God. It takes everyone: good and bad alike (we might say insiders and outsiders). A wedding without guests is lousy. So is a Kingdom without people who are willing to help build it together. Perhaps, if we personally commit ourselves to building it regardless of who shows up to help us, we just might receive the unexpected surprise of unintentional community. And therein lies unexpected grace.

Bible Problems--A Few Reasons I Don't Believe in Biblical Inerrancy

Hello, fellow revolutionaries!

It is late, and I can't sleep; so I'm passing along some thoughts that have been going through my brain lately on the subject of biblical inerrancy--the belief that the scriptures are free of error/contradiction.

Most of this stemmed from a conversation I've had with some folks over at the iMonk monastery, where they thankfully have a very open and congenial forum for discussing issues like this in a civil manner. Here goes.

I don't believe--and haven't for quite some time--that the Bible is completely inerrant. And while I am a seminary student, a person of faith, a lover of God and of people, and a passionate follower of Jesus, I think that to believe the scriptures are free from all error is asinine; it's the proverbial ostrich putting its proverbial head in the proverbial sand. I present the following instances to support my understanding of the scriptures as writings that are just as flawed as the human men (and women?) who wrote them. It is by no means an exhaustive list, just a few things to get you thinking.

1) In Genesis 1, the author claims that all of life was created in a calculated order, with humanity being the pinnacle of Elohim's Creation. However, in Genesis 2, humanity is pretty much the first thing created, with all of the animals being created last for the purpose of giving Adam a chance to name them. Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 are two completely different creation accounts, with different orders and even different understandings of God--the former describes a vast, cosmic, transcendent deity, while the latter describes the kind of God who walks and talks with Adam and Eve in the garden.

2) The narrative of Joshua claims that the conquering of Canaan was swift and complete, in an idealized and miraculous show of military might. However, in the very next book (Judges), the claim is made that the conquering of Canaan was slow and incomplete.

3) In 1 Samuel, we find the old familiar story of David facing down the giant, and we are told that David son of Jesse killed Goliath son of Gath by using a slingshot to hit the dude between the eyes (and then a sword to cut off his head). However, in 2 Samuel, the claim is made that Elhanan son of Jaare-oregim killed Goliath son of Gath.

4) The prophets Isaiah and Micah both describe a time when people will "beat their swords into plowshares," while the prophet Joel explicitly calls his readers to "beat your plowshares into swords." (Admittedly, this could be explained away by the fact that Isaiah and Micah are speaking about a future kingdom, while Joel is giving a command for the present. However, this still serves as an example of how biblical authors used other sources and texts, and even used disagreement and contradiction as literary devices.)

5) Even the gospels have their little eccentricities--for example, Jesus saying both "Whoever is not for me is against me," and "Whoever is not against us is for us," is logically inconsistent. Rather than try to explain away how Jesus means both statements to be equally true, it is simpler (think: Occam's Razor) and more likely to believe that perhaps someone may have copied it down incorrectly. It is not a stretch to think that somewhere in that long game of telephone that eventually gave us the scriptures, someone innocently and accidentally wrote down the wrong thing--the two phrases are certainly easy enough to confuse.

Unless we are to use some extreme linguistic and exegetical gymnastics (or simply read something into the Bible that just isn't there--recently someone tried to explain to me that David and Elhanan could have been the same person), the fact remains that the Bible is full of little errors and contradictions. The difficulty with much of modern apologetics is that apologists often attempt to make the Bible jump through their hoops, rather than letting it speak for itself.

via ASBO Jesus

HOWEVER. When we view the scriptures as monolithic--some call it bibliolatry--we fail to recognize that the Bible was written over centuries--millennia, even--by dozens, if not hundreds, of authors and editors (read: "people liable to screwing up") who disagreed with one another, and had differing ideas of the nature and character of God. But to me, the true narrative of God shines through the scriptures--beautifully, mysteriously, divinely--despite the frailty of the Bible's very human writers.

It all just seems like people try too hard to force the Bible to fit together perfectly, when in reality, it does not. It's complicated--just like life and history are complicated. And I would argue that that's the beauty of it all. It's simply a fallacy to believe that just because the Genesis accounts contradict one another, or the fact that Esther, Job, and Jonah are very likely fictional accounts, means that God doesn't love us, that Jesus didn't have something to teach us, and that there is an ultimate plan for this whole ball of wax we call earth. The scriptures include letters, fiction, history, hagiography, poetry, songs, fables, melodramas, and allegories, and it is the most expansive collection of writings available to us that deal with the subject of who God is. We can't afford to take it too seriously.

To recognize that the scriptures are not infallible is to recognize their frailty, and make both the Bible and ourselves vulnerable. But vulnerability is exactly what Jesus was about--relying on God and on each other rather than our own understanding. And as a wise man once said, All instruction is but a finger pointing to the moon; Now, dear student, do not confuse the finger with the moon.