Category: Pastors Corner

Sower and Soils Redux

I have three purposes behind this “corner.” A) To offer a meaningful engagement with the Word of God for those who might not make Sunday service or one of the Bible Studies.  B) To occasionally challenge or simply announce some activity or need of congregational life. C) To provide an example of Christian meditation.  The word is a lamp to our feet and a guide to our path.  What that means is that hopefully we are walking somewhere purposefully and not just aimlessly stumbling

The parable of the Sower and the Soils was the gospel reading last week.  And I know in my sermon delivered that I encouraged more meditation in the Sower and less on the soils.  More recognition that the Sower’s supply is inexhaustible, that He doesn’t care about the current soil status, and that sowing is not a once and done thing but moves in seasons. I think these are all the gospel elements  Less concentration on discerning the soil, unless that discernment was turned toward the status of one’s own heart.  Where have I been rocky soil, hard packed, shallow?  What weeding or cultivation of my own heart might I do?

I usually do not have trouble leaving the prior lessons behind.  Every Sunday before leaving the building I read the lessons for next Sunday.  They can sit in my head and gut on my day off out of the office. Maybe they have germinated by the time I get back.  But this week I could not shake the image of the soils. Many if not most of us give little thought to institutions.  It is popular to be cynical about them.  And many deserve it.  Or if we are not cynical, we assume that they will be around forever even without our help.  The seed sown is the Word of God.  But the Word of God turns into a plant that is supposed to be fruitful.  Maybe stretching the parable beyond what it is meant to take, but plants are planted somewhere.  We are planted somewhere.  We grow somewhere. And that somewhere is often various institutions.

At the most basic level we are all planted in specific families.  We are citizens of specific nations.  We are members of a specific church.  And within those three estates – or broad institutions – we often have roles to play in other groups.  And those groups are both shaped by us, but more often form us.  I’ve been reading Vice President Vance’s recent memoir of his return to faith.  My interest is professional.  What type of faith did he have?  What type of faith has he returned to?  What spurred it?  Who or what helped or hindered along the way?  And his story is largely one of formation by various institutions. His family gave him a faith, but honestly not one set on a very secure foundation.  He watched more televangelists with his memaw than Sundays he was in a church.  He had developed something of a relationship with one pastor in one of the phases where his Dad was active in his life, but it could not have been that great, because when he tried to contact that pastor he was surprised the man had taken a call elsewhere. “I had no pastor that I could turn to…and I was too far away to stay in close touch. (p49).” Life in the Marines and especially in Iraq had given him both the best witnesses and a perfect storm of cynicism as waiting for his discharge he got sucked into an attempt to end a Sarge’s career.

In his story it isn’t the institutions of Ohio State and Yale Law that destroy his early ungrounded faith.  That work had already largely been done.  But the soil of those institutions grew something different. Ohio State drilled in the idea that “I deserved everything that came to me…any sense of community attachment – that we owe something to the people from whom we come – gave way (p67).” Yale put that on steroids and added pure status.  “I wanted to go to a good law school because that is what other’s wanted (p72)…the belief system of places like Yale had a way of turning real vice into perceived virtue (p79).”

Vance’s loss of faith is a story of non-participation and weak institutions. His loss of faith is a story of his family absenting themselves from the institutions of that faith, and then stronger institutions stepping in to provide different ways for the plant to grow.  Within his story I think is something for us in general.  If you want good soil that produces 30, 60 even 100 fold, you’ve got to maintain it.  It is those institutions that are often the soil.  And we have not done the work to maintain them.

Dr. Luther and Summertime Sadness

Sure, you could pick up the Old Testament reading and mine it for something.  This week’s is Isaiah 55:10-13 and it is perfectly paired with the Gospel lesson – the parable of the Sower and the Soils. The Isaiah passage is surely part of the understanding of the soils. We do not live by bread alone, but every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. And that word does go out.  And that word does accomplish what it was sent to do. Now we might wonder at why some of it falls on hard soil and apparently does nothing, but that is about the human heart. The Word does do something.  It reveals the state of our hearts.  And maybe like the rain and snow of Isaiah’s passage, that Word can eventually crack even the hardest of hearts.  Or maybe they are like Pharoah. Knowing our own heart is tough.  Does it bring up thorns? Or shall it become a tree, a cypress, planted over the waters?

You could turn to the Romans passage.  But that would be cannibalizing what you are going to say in Bible Study after worship.  Sure, that is only 20% of the worship population, but they deserve something prepared and fresh.  But supposedly 60% of the total roster opens this email.  If on any given summer Sunday you are fortunate to cross 50% of the roster in worship.  And you humor yourself into thinking that 80% who open might at least read the first paragraph.  You get to the idea that this little article is probably the item of work most engaged with in the week. And besides, as the epistle says (Romans 8:12-17), “you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear.” Oh, you could certainly come up with something that quickens the spirit from that.  At least if you are willing to cut it off there and ignore Romans 8:17, “provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” Even then maybe you could invoke Tennyson’s Odyssey – “made weak by time and fate, yet strong in will…to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.” Unlike Odysseus who angered Poseidon and suffered, we have not angered God and so suffer. Our journey home through suffering is walking with God, with angels, with Jesus all the way.

But as you stare at the blank page, maybe stuck in a bit of summertime sadness, you hear something moving down the hall. What soul is it in need of solace that without knowing it is giving your soul purpose?  And then you get the surprise. “Dr. Luther, it’s been a few years, I was beginning to think that we might not meet again in this realm.  How is Leo X doing? Are you guys having a good chuckle over another Leo excommunicating another group (SSPX) that insists they are just preaching and teaching what the church has always taught?”

“Heh.  Yes, that little episode has certainly come up.  Although maybe I’d point out with a little too much pride, half of Christendom sided with me.  Bishop Lefebvre’s group is smaller than even your little Synod.”

“You got me there Dr. Luther. Heaven doesn’t issues traveling passes lightly.  What brings you to my small corner today?  Why does the great man show up in this humble parish study?”

 “What is that pungent phrase you just invoked?  Summertime sadness?”

“Yes, well, I stole that, from the singer, Lana DelRey.  It’s kinda her entire vibe.  And it’s a little infectious.”

“Yes.  I can understand that.  All the best lines are stolen anyway.  We are all just recycling the Word that went out from God originally.  Although being German we never called it anything as trite as sadness.  We called it anfechtung.  There are so many different ways of suffering.  Stealing someone else’s line, everyone you meet is engaged in a great struggle.  Maybe not over half of Christendom.  Maybe over a single soul. Maybe theirs. Maybe that single struggle engulfs all of the Kingdom with it.”

“Dr. Luther, you’ve never been indirect before.  Is the sadness spreading, even in heaven?  Make it clear, why are you here?’

“Read your Isaiah again.  You know I called him the fifth evangelist.”

“Yes, who did you steal that line from?”

“That’s mine, or that’s my story. But focus now Herr Pastor. Does the Word fail?”

“No. But I know where you are going.  Look at things.  Does this look like success?”

“So are you now the judge? Were you there when he laid the foundations? Have you discerned all the purposes of almighty God?  I remind you I’ve had 500 years in paradise and Leo and I are just starting to put some of our lives together.”

“Fine. No. I’m not.  But what it your point.”

“You live by faith.  God’s word goes out and it accomplishes his purposes.  Whether you know them or not.  You can go out and come back in in joy.”

And with that Dr. Luther must have been needed elsewhere.  Although without a good bye, maybe I shall see him again.

Prisoners of Hope

Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of Hope; today I declare that I will restore to you double. – Zechariah 9:12

Some phrases just dwell in the imagination.  Prisoners of Hope. That’s one of them. Two words that you wouldn’t normally put together. Prisoner and Hope. Prisons of various types are famed for the words put over their entry.  The entry is Hell in Dante is “Abandon Hope All You Who Enter Here.” The entry to Auschwitz was “Work will set you free.” On Riker’s Island (NYS Prison) you will find the correction facility motto “New York’s Boldest.”  On one Soviet Gulag it said, “Shock labor is the path to early release!”  It is absurdly funny that Hell might have been the most honest.  In most ways we might think of prison as being the opposite of Hope.  Yet the prophet Zechariah ties these two things together to describe faithful Israel, prisoners of Hope.

Zechariah is prophesying to Israel in exile.  Their kingdom gone, their temple destroyed, the reality of their covenant with God at least in question.  Would any God with any reality allow this for his people?  Israel’s exile for most of Christian history has been used as a metaphor for the church in this world.  Wherever you find the church, that is not its native ground.  That is a beachhead in Satan’s territory. The people of God an infiltrating Army in this old world.  And often an army surrounded.  Maybe an army in chains.  Most of the apostles found themselves in various prisons. Yet they were always prisoners of Hope. As Paul once said, “it is because of the hope of Israel that I am wearing this chain. (Acts 28:20)”

And what is that hope?

That you would behold your King coming to you righteous and having salvation. That the chariot and the war horse would be cut off.  That the battle bows would be broken.  That your King would speak peace to the nations.  That his rule would be from sea to sea, from The River to the ends of the earth.

That sounds great, by why is this my hope?  Why would I endure chains now, for that hope?  Why would I consider myself a prisoner held by this hope?

“Because of the blood of my covenant with you.”

Christ has shed his blood for you.  Christ has given you his body and blood.  He has marked you in your baptism as one redeemed.  And these things – these sacraments – are the acts of his covenant with you.  Now we might break contracts or covenants.  We might be faithless, but God is faithful.  God fulfills his promises, his covenant.  And He has given us a covenant sealed with the blood of his Son.  “I will set your prisoners free from the waterless pit.”

We have been washed in the waters of Holy Baptism.  The Good Shepherd will lead us beside still waters. Today, we might find ourselves in chains of various kinds.  Worldly chains of fame and status and want.  We might find ourselves in personal chains of besetting sins. But God has set us prisoners free in the blood of his Son Jesus.

Today we might be prisoners of Hope.  Tomorrow, God declares, “I will restore to you double.” As Jesus said last week. “You will not lose your reward.” We are prisoners of this hope. Even the shiniest and most gilded cage of the world’s prisons can’t promise this.  They all lied, other than Hell which has no hope.  But with Christ, we have hope. 

Election Returns

I’ve been struggling what if anything to write about our Synodical Presidential election.  I suppose I will start with the simple facts.  Matthew Harrison, who has been Synodical President for 16 years/5 terms, has been reelected to a sixth 3 year term.  To anyone handicapping the election that result would not have been a surprise.  The surprise was in how that came about. It took three ballots.  He won on the first ballot his previous times often with vote shares approaching 60%.  This time his share was 50.1%. He got 4 votes over the absolute minimum on the 3rd ballot. Now after 16 years the “time for someone else” vote is going to grow naturally.  But this particular vote was not just that.  Todd Wilken, the host of Issues, Etc, I think has it right.  “The Venn diagram of voters against Harrison often had a single point of overlap – anyone but Harrison.”  There were people in the Synod mad over the closure of various Concordia System schools and various lawsuits around those schools.  There are people mad because they want expansion of ways onto the ministerial roster.  There are people mad because they want a reduction in the ways onto the roster.  There are people mad over Harrison talking more explicitly about the order of service and Lutheran distinctives. There are people mad that he doesn’t cast out of the synod those who are not using “our hymnbook.”  And behind all of this anxiety is the fact of decline. Peak reported membership was around 2.8M in 1970 – the year before my birth. The last published reports (2026 Lutheran Annual) that number is 1.6M.  And of course membership is not attendance.  On any given Sunday the last reported attendance numbers were a little over 500K.

Something that I believe to be the truth that impacted this election, and impacts what this summer’s convention is going to debate, falls under Hemmingway’s observation about bankruptcy.  How did it happen?  Slow, then fast. I think the reality is that many congregations within the Synod have reached that “fast” part of the decline.  And there are a variety of reasons.  There are congregations on the great plains that are just the victims of their emptying out.  What used to take 100 people to farm now takes 1.  The town I grew up in at that time had a population of 6000. Today it is 3000.  In more populated areas either you have congregations spaced before the advent of the car, or based on assumptions rooted in 1960s attendance and growth, we spaced congregations too close. And when those assumptions didn’t pan out, you’ve had undersized, undercapitalized and in competition with each other congregations for decades. All of that exacerbated by other changes, like the wholesale move of women into the workforce.  Congregations that responded by hiring people to do what used to be done by volunteers benefited.  Those that did not saw entire generations leave.  And none of that incorporates all the one off church fights that blighted otherwise healthy congregations.  And none of that even touches doctrinal rails or failures.

All of this reflects our Old Testament lesson this week too much for my comfort.  You’d have to back up to the start of the chapter – Jeremiah 28.  It takes place before the full exile, but the King of Judah and the temple artifacts – ark, candelabras, etc. – have been deported to Babylon. Jeremiah has been prophesying this – absent repentance, absent change – for more than 28 years. But Hananniah, a temple priest stands up and says he has a word from the LORD.  The King and the temple vessels would be returned within two years and peace would be established, that Babylon would be broken.  It reminds me of what many a Synod President has said over the years. That everything is fine.  Everything will be fine.  That nothing large needed to be done. Many congregations have heard that over the decades.  Meanwhile Jeremiah hears Hananiah and responds.  “Amen! May the LORD do so.”  It is not that this wouldn’t be nice.  But Jeremiah points everyone back to the authentic prophets that everyone accepts.  Is it ever that easy?  They all prophesied something like “rend your hearts, not your garments.” They all prophesied absent doing something hard, returning to the LORD your God, returning to you first love, “war, famine, pestilence.”

God works in a peculiar way his wonders to perform.  He works by death and resurrection. He does a new thing, and the old thing often has to die for the new to come in. Whether that death is the death of the old Adam in ourselves that often stands in the way of the Kingdom, or that death is not just the loss of the temple artifacts, but the temple itself, it happens. But the Kingdom ours remains. Because the Kingdom is not of stones – even such great stones as the temple.  The Kingdom is the living stones built on Christ. And God has placed that stone.  It shall not be moved.

The Man of Sorrows & The Sparrow

Jeremiah is a hard book and when I first looked at the lessons for this week I wondered what they were doing pairing this reading (Jeremiah 20:7-13) with the gospel lesson.  But the pairing might not be as off as I first thought.

The first thing you should put in your memory is the context of Jeremiah.  He is a prophet for forty or so years.  And his message the entire time is essentially “you guys are doomed.” Jeremiah is the archetype for the “The End is Near” sandwich board guy ringing a bell. He’s the archetype, but with two primary differences.  That guy to us is a character of mirth.  The end never comes.  The end most definitely was coming for Jerusalem.  That comedic guy is not self-aware.  He goes ringing that bell with the pure bliss of ignorance. Jeremiah is self-aware.

And that is where our lesson today starts, with one of the most heart rending verses of the entire bible.  “O LORD, you have deceived me, and I was deceived; you are stronger than I, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all the day, everyone mocks me (Jeremiah 20:7).”  Jeremiah has been preaching doom for 40 years, and it has not yet come.  He has been shouting “violence and destruction” for decades, and the walls of Jerusalem still stand. Everyone wants him to just shut up to the point they would be willing to kill him.  “Denounce him! Let us denounce him…and take our revenge on him! (Jermiah 20:10).” It’s the guy with the sandwich board who knows how everyone looks at him.  And know that his message has no effect.

This burden is enough for Jeremiah that he attempts to put it down himself.  “I will not mention him, or speak anymore in his name.”  But the Word of the LORD, the prophetic calling is too powerful.  “There is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot (Jeremiah 20:9).” The LORD is stronger and has prevailed.  The Word finds its way.  Yet the question I think lingers to anyone who reads it.  How can God do such a thing?  Is this really how God is, a divine tyrant making us the rump of jokes?

Jeremiah works his way to his answer.  Those who laugh at him now will not have the last laugh.  “The LORD is with me as a dread warrior; my persecutors will stumble, they will not overcome me.”  He even manages to get in a bit of bragging.  They are laughing at Jeremiah like sandwich board guy, but “They will be greatly shamed…Their eternal dishonor will never be forgotten (Jeremiah 20:11).”  And indeed it is not forgotten.  2600 years later the book of Jeremiah is still read. 2600 years later his message continues to resonate and spread the warning to those with ears. 2600 years later, those residents of Jerusalem standing on the precipice of destruction who would not hear, who looked to kill the prophet of the LORD are held up for derision, for blind eyes and stubborn hearts. Jeremiah’s ultimate answer is that the LORD “tests the righteous and sees the heart and mind.”  That this LORD justifies all who commit their cause to Him (Jeremiah 20:12).  And like all hard meditations, it ends with praise. “Sing to the LORD!”

Jesus himself is a fulfillment of Jeremiah – the man of sorrows. We put him to death in the most shameful way possible.  But his cause was trusted to his Father who raised him from the dead.  And we disciples are not above our teacher. We can expect these things. Cause part of our message is definitely “The End is near.” If not capital T capital E THE END, we all meet our end.  “Fear not those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. (Matthew 10:28).”  The LORD is not the tyrant we might fear, but one who shared the temporal shame. He is one who knows when every sparrow falls.  And are you not worth more than a sparrow? Entrust your cause to the LORD.

(Not So) Ordinary Time

The church calendar and its divisions are not biblically mandated stuff.  As the apostle says in Romans, “One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. (Rom. 14:5 ESV).” But I do think there is a reason that it was created rather early, that it perpetuated, and that it keeps coming back.  Even Calvinist Presbyterians and Free Will Baptists tend to have Christmas and Holy Week these days. Which is basically how that calendar originally started.  And then everything else fell into place around those “High Holy Days.”

And there is a fundamental division in that Calendar that we have gently passed.  From Advent to Trinity the focus is on the life of Christ. And so our meditation tends to be about the 2nd article of the creed.  It is the proclamation of who God is and what he has done for us. But when you pass into the long green season, for us the season after Pentecost – others have called it the season after Trinity and still others “Ordinary Time” – it is more about the 3rd article of the creed, what the Holy Spirit is doing.  And that is calling, gathering, enlightening, sanctifying and keeping.  That is the Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sin, the preparation for life everlasting.  As so last week opened the season with the Call of Matthew the tax collector. The Holy Spirit calls sinners and only sinners.  And the readings early will continue in that discipleship vein. How exactly does following Christ work?

And so reading Romans all summer and into fall – and that is what our lectionary does – creates a realistic problem.  Summer is when we all check out, right?  We’ve made it through the High Seasons, this is me time.  When the livin’ is easy. And yet the calendar and assigned reading are serious stuff.  We’ve received the call.  What the heck does that mean for us…for me?  Can’t we just kick back and let it be for a bit?  It’s summer. 

Most of Paul’s letters have an immediacy to them. He’s responding to some crisis in a baby congregation he founded. He writing to a young kid and the young leaders of congregations how to pastor and be a congregation of God’s people.  He’s doing what we all can do, putting off the reflection and ordering of things, to react and respond to the squeaky wheel.  And that wheel does need oiled.  It will always need oiled.  And then one day the question of why the heck am I doing this oiling of this stupid wheel at all sneaks up.  Romans is Paul’s answer. Romans is an invitation to: why does this Jesus and church thing work?  Why does it work for me?

And it simply starts out with a reflection on the law.  Think about the law as simply “the way the world works.” And this is the trouble with that law. It works 95% of the time.  If you follow it, your life will actually be better.  The Taoist knows this, be water, conform yourself to the shape of the world.  The living is much easier.  But the problem is I don’t want to do that.  I want to do what I want to do.  Or the problem is the 5%.  I have kept all these things since my youth, why is my life a complete mess? Paul the Jew asks, “What is the value of circumcision (the covenant marking of the Jew)?” Has God lied to me?  Because exactly when I needed it to work – that 5% – it kills me. I can’t do it, or it doesn’t work. Something has gone wrong with creation because the good are punished and the evil prosper.

Why does this following Christ work?  Why do I keep walking the discipleship way?  Because the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law (Romans 3:23). The creation was subject to futility that it might be set free from its bondage to corruption (Romans 8:20).  We are more than conquerors through Christ who loved us (Romans 8:37). The hope of the disciple is not this world, but the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Which are freely given to us by faith. Because God loves us

Opening Romans

We are going to be reading from the book of Romans for most of the Summer and all the way into the fall.  So we will be taking it up closely in the Sunday morning Bible Study after service.  Technically we started last week and it will take a couple of weeks to catch up with he lectionary readings.  I’d invite you to join us.

Most of Paul’s letters are written either to congregations that he has founded on his journeys, or they are written to his travelling companions like Timothy and Titus.  After Paul himself would get chased out of one place, Timothy and Titus would often stay behind to wrap up necessary things, or if not stay behind they would be sent back to take care of anything lacking.  That is why the letters to them are often called the pastoral letters, because they are about how that office should be carried out.  First by Timothy and Titus and then by those whom they appoint.  The letter to the Romans is different. Paul did not found the church at Rome.  In fact is it often put forward that the Letter to the Romans is a fundraising letter.  Paul intends to go on a missionary journey to Spain (Romans 15:24) and he hopes to stop by Rome on his way.  Romans 1:8-15 is Paul’s introductory pitch for missionary support.

I’m being slightly tongue in cheek there.  First because everyone in the Christian world would have heard of Paul.  His collected letters were already being read in the churches.  Nevertheless Paul butters up his potential backers.  “First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, because your faith is proclaimed in all the world (Romans 1:8).”  It is always flattering to have the guy who is known throughout the world tell you that you are.  And he continues that “without ceasing I mention you always in my prayers (Romans 1:10).” And then adds that “I may impart some spiritual gift to strengthen you.” It is not every day that an apostle visits, even the church at Rome.   And it is surely true that as Paul says, “I have often intended to come to you.”  All roads lead to Rome and everyone surely hoped to see the Imperial City some day.  Just like I assume everyone hopes to see New York City.

And it is here that there is a great question.  Did Paul make this trip?  We know Paul made one trip to Rome at the end of Acts, under guard as part of his appeal to Caesar.  Acts ends saying Paul “lived there two whole years…proclaiming the Kingdom…and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ…without hinderance (Acts 28:30).” We know that Paul was martyred in Rome either in 64 AD by Nero after the fire, or in 68 AD. It is one or the other.  There is scattered evidence of an actual trip to Spain, but nothing biblical beyond his remarks in this letter. In the Theology of Acts, the gospel made it to Rome, and in making it to Rome, the gospel had made it to the ends of the earth. There was no reason in that book to narrate either further missionary journeys or the death of the apostle.  The gospel has made it from Jerusalem to the ends.

If Paul was following his normal routine, the people that sponsored his missionary trip are where he would return.  You could imagine Paul being released, making that trip to Spain and returning to Rome. Which is unprovable but helps to hear “in order that I may reap some harvest among you as well as among the rest of the Gentiles (Romans 1:13).” I Paul might not have founded this church, but I think I can help you, and I know that you can help me, by taking a collection for a mission trip to Spain.

And what every missionary ever seeking financial support does is spell out exactly what they will be preaching.  This is how your funds shall be put to good use. “I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.  For the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, “the righteous shall live by faith (Romans 1:16-17).”  Paul, the apostle, proclaims the gospel he always has.  The free gift by faith.

Axiom not Analogy

You either loved geometry or you hated it. We all learned Euclidean geometry which has five axioms.  And yes, I’m hurting people’s heads, sorry, I promise this goes somewhere on a Trinity Sunday.  An Axiom is just something that is or at least is taken as something that is.  In Euclidean geometry the famous axiom is that parallel lines never cross. Or at least that is the simple rendering of it. And then you learn a bit about non-Euclidean geometry, usually polar.  Because lines of longitude are parallel, but they meet at the poles.  Euclidean geometry you could say is a limit case.  It holds in the common sense human scale, but if you get really big or really small that axiom breaks.  It is not a universal one.  Parallel lines can cross. And all the rest of Euclidean geometry is built on the foundation stones of those axioms.

Many Trinity Sunday attempts are attempts at analogy. You know them all I’m sure: St. Patrick’s clover, The Sun (which is actually perfectly Arian), the apple (which has its own CPH book that I remember loving as a kid, and so is probably the seed of my bad theology).  These are all attempts at an analogy for the Trinity itself.  And they are all ultimately failures.  Because the Trinity is not something you can explain.  It is. If you could explain it, it would not be God. Which is more the point of my analogy with geometry. The Trinity is an axiom.  Now the biggest difference between Euclid’s axioms and The Trinity is that Euclid’s were asserted from nature.  You could look at the world and understand that parallel lines don’t cross. Or the first one, given two points there is a straight line that connects them.  These are known by observation.  The Trinity is known by revelation. The God who is revealed himself to be this way.

Now this revelation in the history of the Bible was progressive. The Patriarch’s knew God simply as God Almighty (Genesis 17:1). Moses receives “the name” – often rendered Yahweh – which the Hebrews refused to pronounce and wrote in LORD. Your bibles will have LORD all capitalized when that name appears. (Exodus 6:3). Then Jesus talks about Father, Son and Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19). Now we would say that Father, Son and Spirit with the gift of hindsight make clear appearances in the Old Testament.  For example Genesis 1:1-2 with God and the Spirit of God.  Or the three men who visit Abraham (Genesis 18). The LORD is a name of the unity of the Godhead. The persons become known through interaction and revelation.  Jesus came to reveal the Father (John 1:8, John 14:9, Matthew 11:27). The Holy Spirit testifies to the Son (John 15:26).  And it is this revelation of Jesus that is the cornerstone planted.  Christ himself is the foundation that everything is built on.  If Christ is not raised from the dead, our faith is in vain. If this axiom does not hold, the entire edifice might be pretty like Euclidean geometry, but not eternally true, only locally true.  And if God is only locally true, then He isn’t God.

And this is what the Athanasian Creed does so well for me.  It is simply the best statement of what is. “The Catholic Faith is this…”.  The creeds are the axioms of the faith.  If you proved one of them wrong, the entire edifice falls. If you prove something in them wrong, you have proved Christ a liar.  And CS Lewis’ trilemma – Liar, Lunatic or LORD – kicks in. It’s a good thing people have been trying to disprove them for 1800 years. They have been rejected – there are always people who will say “this is a hard teaching, who can accept it (John 6:60).” – but disproven?  No. “This is the Catholic Faith, whoever does not believe it faithfully and firmly cannot be saved.”  The creeds are not analogies or proofs.  The creeds are proclamations.  This is God.  This is The Faith. They are to be believed as foundations for eternal life.

Pentecostal Fire

Pentecost is the forgotten major Christian Holy Day.  Like the Holy Spirit is the forgotten person of the Trinity.  At least in respectable churches. Let the snake handlers and tongue-speakers have the Spirit.  Ok, I’ll drop the joking around.

The Jewish religious calendar had three High Festivals on which all true Jews were supposed to sojourn to the temple: Passover, Pentecost and Sukkot.  You know what Passover was, the exit from Egypt. Sukkot was a harvest festival.  And like all harvest festivals it looked backwards in thanks for bringing us to this place while looking forward to some better final fulfillment, the last harvest.  But what was Pentecost? It was the remembrance of Israel at the foot of Sinai receiving the law.  It was the cutting of the covenant of Moses.

Passover fulfillment is rather easy.  Jesus is our Passover lamb, and in his resurrection the angel of death passes over us. Sukkot doesn’t have a completed fulfillment.  That would happen when Jesus comes to judge the living and the dead.  But I often think about All Saints’ Day as a Christian Sukkot.  We give thanks for those who came before and where we are. And we look forward to that uncountable number.  Pentecost’s fulfillment is ongoing.

Unlike the law of Moses which was a static thing.  It was written on stone tablets. It stood outside us as a word.  We can read it and understand it and pledge allegiance to it…and then immediately go break it.  We can twist it to say what we want it to say.  We are all expert lawyers looking for the loopholes. Unlike that static law of Moses, the Christian Pentecost is God’s living covenant with us.  It is not outside of us, but resident in our hearts. It is not a word directed at us, but the word of God spoken by us at the right time. It is not the proclamation of what we should do, but what God has done for us.  Pentecost is when the things that separate us, primarily sins, are broken down and overcome. The curse of Babel is undone in the working of God. Because God is no longer casting out and spreading abroad but calling all his own to him.

As a living covenant it is one that we can’t control. The Holy Spirit blows when and where and how He wills. Maybe in one time and place and age by Bach and Byrd and Gregorian Chant. And maybe in another by snake handling and tongues. And in yet others by something not yet seen our understood which we can scarcely imagine. This is probably why Pentecost tends to be forgotten.  There is nothing scary about a baby placed by his mother in a manger. And Easter is pure joy and triumph.  But Pentecost?  Pentecost is a walk into the unknown.  Young men see visions and old men dream dreams.  Male and female alike prophesy. Moons turn to blood.  All of which are visual codes for when God shows up, and acts, and changes hearts.  Maybe changes our heart. And that can be scary.  What does a living God ask of us?

The short answer is love. But that love is rarely our definition. That love is the cross. That love is a fire that burns yet does not consume.  At least not the eternal things,  even if it might burn away the dross of this mortal frame.

What is Asked of Us?

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you – 1 Peter 5:6

We are probably all cognizant of the 7 deadly sins even if we could not list them (Gluttony, Greed, Pride, Sloth, Lust, Envy and Wrath).  Counter that list of vices have been lists of virtues. Paul’s list of the gifts of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). Stretching back further the pagan cardinal virtues: prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance.  Which were expanded to the magic number seven by the three theological virtues: faith, hope and love. I don’t know where along the way but when I memorized the cardinal virtues – and it had to be something that was taught because as big of a nerd as I can be I can’t imagine committing them to memory without – but when I memorized the cardinal virtues my list had substituted patience for justice (Prudence, Patience, Fortitude and Temperance). Which I only noticed many years later when someone called out my switch, and how different it made the list.  Not that justice or righteousness depending upon how you wish to emphasize it isn’t Christian, but the idea that I can make myself more just or righteous is foreign. I can act with justice toward my neighbor.  I have a freedom in civil righteousness.  But before God, my virtue counts for nothing. Which is probably why that forgotten teacher substituted it with patience.  And patience is a peculiarly Christian virtue.  Even Captain Picard said something like that once. Talking with his Klingon officer Worf, “Patience is a human virtue, it is no such thing to a Klingon. (Season 5, Ep23)” as Worf was confronted with a problem of honor. Patience rests uneasily with Pagan or Klingon virtues. Maybe cunning Odysseus would use it, but to the Pagan there is a reason Achilles is the Hero of Heroes; Picard is good, but Captain Kirk is still the mold.

Some of this came to mind when cultural commentator Ross Douthat wrote this week about struggling with the line “why would you bring kids into this *&$3-ed up world.” His struggle was that as governments and institutions grapple with the birth dearth, “at the macro level this never comes up, yet in conversation you hear it all the time.” (And if you don’t know what I mean about birth dearth it is simply that in the US, which is not as bad as some, the number of kids has fallen to 1.62 per woman.  2.1 is considered replacement.  And over 30% of adults without children currently say they don’t want any.)  And while thinking through today’s Epistle lesson, and preparing for the Joshua Bible Study, something struck me about Mr. Douthat’s puzzle and the virtue of patience.

At least one political ideology at play in the United States is deeply tied to a cluster of ideas.  That cluster rests on two planks: utopian in that we can make this world substantially better and atheist in that this world is all there is. Sometimes that combination produces some amazing change.  The fierce urgency of now meeting a problem whose time has come. But it also curdles. When the arc of the universe doesn’t bend fast enough. Or a skeptic might say when the progress aimed for isn’t progress at all.  Or when a source of hope – a theological virtue after all – is not immediately present.  “Why bring kids into this messed up world?” 

Christian teaching should be something of an inoculation against such thinking. Given the fact of our fallen natures, this old world is never going to be a Utopia. Although I would simply point out that we live at a fantastic time. Not that there aren’t problems, and in some ways worse because they are spiritual in nature, but materially there is no comparison.  We are relieved from the burden of “making the eschaton immanent” – it is not our job to bring the New Jerusalem down.  God will do this in his own good time.  What is asked of us is hope, and faith and a bit of patience. Hope that the promises of God are true.  That he will certainly “exalt us.”  Faith that we might “humble ourselves” and accept our daily bread.  Faith that blessings, like children, are blessings. And a bit of patience. The Lord knows your frame.  “Christ will himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish you (1 Peter 5:10).”