Monthly Archives: March 2018

“SCHOLARSHIP: WHAT’S THE POINT?”

If a committee may be defined as “a group of people talking about what they should be doing,” perhaps a scholar should be defined as “an individual writing about what he/she should be doing.”

In other words, does scholarship really matter?  Or, is scholarship just an unhelpful way of exercising my mental and digital dexterity?

I am working on a scholarly paper right now, so this is not an academic question for me.  (No extra charge for the pun.)

My scholarship focuses on the Bible and related matters that (may) help in understanding the Bible.  However, the question that always haunts me is this: Shouldn’t the Bible simply be read and understood, and then either taken seriously or rejected?

Certainly, there are many thoughtful people would argue that these are the two choices.  Read it, understand it, and then choose to either take it seriously or conclude that it is an ancient, irrelevant book.

So, as I indicated in the title of this post, I am struggling with a very basic question: What is the point of scholarship?

Biblical scholarship, at least as I see it, deals with two things.  On the one hand, biblical scholarship is concerned with understanding the original meaning of the Bible when it was written.  The second concern of biblical scholarship is suggesting how we might understand this original meaning today.  These two concerns might be encapsulated in two questions:

  1. So, what was the meaning of this book, story, psalm, verse?
  2. So what?!?

Biblical scholarship has been good about answering question 1—or at least arguing with other scholars about question 1.  We have not been nearly as good about wrestling with question 2.

However, the fact that we haven’t been very good at dealing with the so-what question doesn’t mean that the entire enterprise is a waste of time.

There are two things that help me to remember that what I am doing, and what other scholars are doing, matters.  One of those things is my own pastor.  He doesn’t claim to be a biblical scholar.  However, that says more about his humility than it does about his scholarship.

This past Sunday, for example, he pointed out that the Greek word for compassion is related to their word for “bowels.”  He said (quite truly, from my experience) that when you feel real compassion for someone, your guts hurt.  He even pronounced the Greek word correctly!

Another thing that I recall whenever I struggle with the apparent futility of biblical scholarship is something that happened when I was fifteen.  My dad and I were making several panels to pin up our hogs when we needed to work them into a smaller area for any reason.

My dad cut the first two-by-six boards, and then handed the saw to me.  I grabbed a board, and made my first cut.  Then, I picked up one of the boards and started to cut another board, but Dad interrupted me.

“Is that the original?” my dad asked.

“Does it matter?” I asked.  “Wouldn’t they both be the same size?”

Instead of answering, he grabbed the two boards, the one he had cut originally and the board I had cut.  He held them side by side, and one of them was ever so slightly longer than the other.

“That won’t be a problem at first,” he said, but every board you cut will be slightly further from the original.  Finally, you won’t be able to make the boards of the panels fit with one another.”

Biblical scholarship, unlike scientific scholarship, does not so much seek to discover new things, as it seeks to continually return to the original meaning.  Sermons, teachings, and blogs that do not continually return to the original meaning eventually become meaningless.  Scholars and scholarship do have something to contribute after all.

Well, I need to get back to writing my scholarly paper!

“DOING AWAY WITH MYSELF”

DTEB, “DOING AWAY WITH MYSELF”

 

A man who is wrapped up in himself makes a very small package.” (Source unknown)

Selfishness—self-centeredness!  That, we think, is the root of our troubles.  Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity, we step on the toes of our fellows, they retaliate.  Sometimes they hurt us, seemingly without provocation, but we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt.”  (Alcoholics Anonymous, The Big Book, p. 62, italics mine)

I like to think of myself as a fairly generous, compassionate person.  Today, before worship even began, I realized that everything I had ever done or wanted to do that was good has been about me.

The worship music spoke of what God had done for us in Christ.  It was wonderful music, but I couldn’t sing much.  I was too busy trying to hold back the tears.  I hoped to hear something encouraging in the sermon.  I didn’t.  The pastor talked about compassion.  Talking about compassion to a person who just realized his own core selfishness is like pouring water on a drowning man.

At the end of the worship service, there was an invitation to come forward for prayer.  I wanted to, but felt that I was just too far gone in my selfishness.  I felt so lost in myself.

However, afterwards I found one of the elders at the church with whom I have a good relationship, broke down crying, and asked him to pray for me.  (Nothing wrong with the rest of our elders; I just know Gary better.)

My first generous act was to give away my “secret” (??) about being so selfish.  Hey, feeble generosity is better than no generosity at all.

And afterwards, I felt so much better.  I also felt that, perhaps, even though everything I had ever done had been tainted by my me-ness, there had been some genuine generosity in some of it.  The seeds—or at least the desire—had been there in me all along.  But the ground was too frozen or too hard for the seeds to germinate.

However, spring is here, no matter how much it may look or feel like winter.  Time to break up the soil a bit.  Time to tend the seeds.  Time to begin to harvest generosity.

I can’t do away with myself, but I can allow my generous God to do something with me!  I have repeatedly shown myself incapable of whole-hearted generosity.  However, with God, all things are possible.  Not easy.  Just possible.

I grew up on a two-hundred-acre farm in Adams County.  We had a huge garden.  One year, there wasn’t much (if any) rain, and the ground was very hard and crusty.  The lima beans weren’t able to push their way through the hard soil.  My dad bent down and began carefully scraping off the crust, allowing the lima beans to pop up.

I have a Heavenly Father, too.  He doesn’t really want to do away with me.  He doesn’t want me to do away with myself.

What does He want?

He wants me to allow Him to scrape away my hard, crusty soil.  He wants to allow the seeds of generosity to germinate and grow.

He wants that for all of us.

DTEB, “OF CAR WRECKS AND GRATEFUL LIVING”

Friday, March 23, 2018

I was in a car wreck yesterday afternoon.  I was on a stretch of divided highway on SR 32, just about two miles from my home.  I was passing a car that was in the right lane, when he tried to turn left into a driveway.  His car clipped mine, and sent me into a spin.  I ended up in the ditch, hitting the bank on the other side of the ditch pretty hard.

However, the hospital tests didn’t turn up anything problematic.  Thankfully, the young man in the other car was not hurt either.

After we left the hospital, my wife and I went out to Steak and Shake, I ate too much, drove home (in my wife’s car), went to bed, and slept well.  My car is probably totaled.

Life is a fragile, temporary business.  It can come to a screeching halt quicker than I can write this sentence, quicker than a car wreck can happen.  We/I should give thanks for it every day, every moment.

So, what will I do with today?  I will enjoy the day, and appreciate every moment.  I will do regular stuff as well as I can.  I will love as if it matters, because it does matter.

In the rock musical “Godspell,” there is this wonderful song “Day by Day.”  In the song, the singer says that she/he is praying for three things: “To see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly, day by day.”

‘Nough said.  ‘Nough prayed.

 

“CAN I MOVE?”

 “Can I move?” (Sundance to Percy Garris, in the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”  Sundance and Butch Cassidy were being interviewed for the position of payroll guards.  Percy had thrown a large gold coin a few yards away from Sundance.  However, Sundance had missed his first shot, with both the shooter and the target stationary.  After asking, “Can I move?” he moved, and hit the target—not once, but twice. After reholstering his revolver, Sundance said, “I’m better when I move.”  He got the job.)

I was reading a 12-step meditation this morning.  The author started off with a familiar Mother Goose rhyme.

“Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.”

And then, the author made a wonderful interpretive move on this very familiar rhyme.  The author suggested that, maybe, Humpty Dumpty just sat too long in one place.

I had never thought of that before.  It is amazing how much wisdom there is in apparently nonsensical (or at least simple) children’s rhymes.

We have a saying in addiction recovery meetings, “Move a muscle, change a thought.”  The idea is that if we are engaging in unhealthy, unhelpful thinking, the best thing we can do often is to move.  I have found this to be very helpful.

I am prone to blood clots, and the blood clots are prone to go to my lungs, heart, and brain.  One of these days, it is possible that, despite Warfarin (a.k.a. “rat poison”), one of these clots is going to do me in.  However, one of the ways in which I try to prevent clots from forming in the first place is to move around.  For example, I use the Promodoro Technique.  It is very simple.  I set an alarm clock to go off every twenty-five minutes.  Then, I take either a five-minute or a fifteen-minute break, and move around.  When the break is over, I reset the alarm for another twenty-five minutes.  This also helps my back and hip not to hurt so much.

So, if you’re struggling with unhelpful, unhealthy thoughts, you might want to try moving a bit.  It probably won’t hurt, and it might help.

This morning, I am having (or being had by??) by some unhealthy thoughts.  They, of course, lead to depressing thoughts, which are also unhealthy for me.  I sent a rather self-pitying email report to my sponsor, and he fired back a very unsympathetic (but very helpful) reply.

“No pity party allowed. You are in control of your own happiness.

God has given us a beautiful day. This could be the last snowfall of the season. How are you going to embrace it?”

Man, is my sponsor ever a good one!

Here is my reply.

“Thanks for the cold water.  No, really!  Thanks!

I will go for a walk in the snow, and make a snow man.  (I also need to clean off the driveway, but I think I’ll do the fun stuff first.)”

Excuse the abrupt ending to this post.  I need to go outside and play in the snow.  I’m better when I move.

“ON THE MAKING OF LISTS”

I like to make lists.

Of course, as with everything else that I enjoy, I tend to overdo it at times.  Sometimes, my lists become a disease, multiplying like a fast-moving virus.  I import the expectations of others, in addition to my own excessive self-demands.

However, the fact that a thing can become demonic doesn’t mean that it wasn’t once angelic.  The Bible seems to indicate that the demons are actually fallen angels.  Whether or not demons can ever be rehabilitated, I don’t know.  But I think that lists can be.

So, what do lists do for me?

Well, for one thing, they keep my attention-deficit-mind a little more focused.  I don’t want to oversell this, but lists do help me—provided, of course, that I can remember where I put the list and remember to look at it every once in a while.

Also, there is a satisfaction that comes from checking off, one-by-one, the items on my lists.  It is a pretty cheap form of entertainment, but it entertains me nevertheless.  Years ago, I heard someone speak of “the satisfaction of a bill marked PAID.”  There is a similar satisfaction that is the fruit of an item on the list that is checked off.

Of course, a TO-DO list is no substitute for having worthwhile goals in the first place.  And these goals must themselves flow from a commitment to good, solid values that not only serve me well, but also serve other people, our planet, and God.  A list populated with trivia is still trivial, even if I check it all off.

However, it is precisely at the point of my values and goals that I find the greatest benefit to lists.  Here is how this works for me: Lists often make me ask difficult questions that I don’t really want to ask.  Lists invite me to ask such questions as  these:

  • Do the items on this list reflect my best values and goals?
  • Does doing this item and crossing it off my list make me a better person?
  • Do the things on this list have a shot at helping to make other people better?
  • Does what I’m doing benefit the planet?
  • Does this list and the items on it make God look as good as God is?
  • If the answer to any of the above questions is “No” or “I don’t know,” why am I doing this stuff?

And then, I can ask two more questions:

  • What can I take off the list to make room for the things that do matter?
  • What do I need to add to the list?

I am comforted a bit in my list-making by the fact that God apparently likes lists as well.  There are of course, various lists in the Bible: lists of sacrifices, lists of holy days, and so on.  One of the most famous lists is the Ten Commandments.  It is always good to remind myself that I must not murder anyone today.  (I think that, by extension, this might include not assassinating anyone’s reputation.)

The most famous list of the New Testament actually quotes and puts together two commandments from the Old Testament.  Jesus was asked what was the greatest commandment.  Jesus did not answer with one commandment.  Instead, he made a list of two: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.  Perhaps my individual lists would be improved if I remembered this two-item list.

“JUST MESSENGERS—BUT WHAT A MESSAGE (AND WHAT A SENDER!)”

My wife had me read out loud John 13 this morning.  (Her women’s Bible study group is working their way through John’s Gospel.)  She had me go back and reread vss. 12-17.

 

“12 After washing their feet, he put on his robe again and sat down and asked, “Do you understand what I was doing?

13 You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and you are right, because that’s what I am.

14 And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet.

15 I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.

16 I tell you the truth, slaves are not greater than their master. Nor is the messenger more important than the one who sends the message.

17 Now that you know these things, God will bless you for doing them.” (New Living Translation)

 

My wife and I are older than we’ve ever been up to this point.  We often wonder about our significance these days.  Sometimes we take turns doing this.  At such times, the person who isn’t struggling can comfort the other one.  At other times, we are both in the same feelin’-like-we’re-washed-up funk at the same time.  At those times we are in real trouble.

What does this have to do with John 13?  A lot!

John 13:12-17 comes right after John 13:1-11.  Amazing how that works, isn’t it?  So, what was going on in John 13:1-11?

Jesus was busy knowing what was about to take place, but also knowing where he came from and where he was heading for.  So, what did he do with this knowledge?  He washed his disciples’ feet.

That doesn’t sound very dramatic, does it?  It isn’t.  It was a just a nasty task that needed to be done.

It was also a nastily necessary lesson for his disciples.  He wanted them to do the same kinds of things for others, beginning with their fellow disciples.

In the ancient world, it was the old, broken-down servants who were charged with washing guests’ feet before a meal.  I imagine that was because, even these servants could wash feet.  Perhaps these servants were already bent over.  Why not have them bend a little further, and wash some feet?  After all, you can at least scoot around and wash feet when you’re already close to the floor.

Being a used-to-be pastor is not easy.  It is easy to remember how honored you were when you were a pastor.  Resentment and self-pity are continual pitfalls.  (Of course, remembering how honored you were to be God’s messenger involves choosing to forget all the times you were anything but honored.)  My wife mentioned this lack of a sense of being honored, and said, “But the message, and the One who sent us with the message are the main thing, aren’t they?”

I just hate it when my sweetheart hits this close to the truth!

Anybody need their feet washed?

“SEEKING AND RESTING”

A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem. A psalm of David. LORD, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp.

  2 Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

  3 O Israel, put your hope in the LORD– now and always.” (NLT  Psalm 131:1-3, italics mine)

All night long I search for you; in the morning I earnestly seek for God.” (NLT Isaiah 26:9a, italics mine)

Our puppy is fairly contented a good deal of the time.  Much of the time, she is satisfied with lying on my lap or my wife’s lap for longish periods of time.  Such long contented lies help us to relax as well, I think.  (Besides, she keeps our laps warm!)

However, there are other times when she will not be denied.

Take the other day, for example.  I had her blocked off in the kitchen, while I was lying on the living room floor, doing some stretches.  These exercises help with back and hip problems.  Our puppy paced back and forth in front of the gates that I placed between the kitchen and the living room.

Our little girl is afraid of the gates.  She has succeeded in knocking them down on at least one occasion, and it frightened her pretty badly.  So she tends to stay well back from them.

This time, however, while I was doing my stretches, I noticed her getting closer and closer to the gates.  She stood on her hind legs, whining, trying to get into the living room. Finally, she went to the edge of the door jamb, where there was a small, barely puppy-sized gap.  I just had time to notice the courage and determination in her eyes, before she was in, and I was smothered with kisses on my bald head.

I think that God values those times when we simply rest in him, like a small, weaned child who leans against his or her mother’s breast, but not for food.  After all, as the psalmist says, he is like a weaned child.  Instead of needing anything, the psalmist is leaning against God just for warmth and affection—for God’s presence.  Like any good mother, God loves those times.

But God also values those times when we seek him in spite of all the barriers—real and imaginary—that keep us from God.  He loves that courageous, determined look that precedes us bursting into his presence.

So, rest and seek!  Seek and rest!  Either way, God loves it.  And God loves you!

“ ‘A WRINKLE IN TIME’: MOVIES VERSUS BOOKS”

DTEB, “ ‘A WRINKLE IN TIME”: MOVIES VERSUS BOOKS”

My wife and I went to see “A Wrinkle in Time” on Saturday.  It was worth going to see, and I would recommend it to others.  However, I still like the book better.  I generally like books better than I do movies.  I wonder why?

I don’t think that it has anything to do with the fact that Oprah Winfrey had a minor part in it.  I actually like Oprah Winfrey—at least, some of the time.

Nor was it the fact that Meg (one of the main characters) was the daughter of interracial parents.  I was surprised by that, but not terribly put-off by it.  I think that my preference for the book “A Wrinkle in Time” (as well as my general love for books) stems from other reasons.

I think part of it may be that, with books, I can read at my own pace.  Movies drag me along at their own break-neck speed.  While reading a book, I can pause, or go back and read a sentence or a paragraph again.  I can ponder.  In the case of movies, there isn’t a lot of pondering time allowed.  You’ve no doubt noticed some of the announcements that they run just before the movie.  “TURN OFF YOUR ELECTRONIC DEVICES!”  That sort of thing.  Perhaps they should make an announcement “NO PONDERING ALLOWED!”

Then too, movies tell me and show me too much.  Good books suggest, but also leave room for imagination.  Movies suggest too much.  (It gives “suggestive movies” a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?)

As a particular aspect of books leaving more room for imagination, books let me identify with the various characters more than movies do.  In the case of movies, I am seeing characters.  In the case of books, I am being characters.

Of course, as a lover of the Bible, you would expect me to say that I like the Bible better than movies based on the Bible.  And you would be right!  The Bible (the book, not the movie) draws me into it, causes me to ponder, argue with it, fuss and fume.  The Bible gives me time to ponder . . . and ponder . . . and ponder some more.

 

“THE WAR I NEED TO LOSE”

Everybody wants to win the war.  This is true whether the war is fought against Isis or the war to lose a few pounds.

It occurred to me this morning that there is a war that I really need to lose.  It is the war within my own deepest self.

I am one of the combatants, but I am also the battlefield.  The war has been going on ever since I can remember, probably from the moment I was conceived.

Sometimes, there will be a brief lull in the fighting, but it never lasts long enough to be mistaken for peace.

I am told that the rightful king has been exiled.  Sometimes I believe that.  Sometimes, not so much.

But one thing I know for sure: I like to play the king, but I know very well that there is a power behind the throne.  This power is the real king.  He/it/they will allow me to pretend to rule.  I can even wear royal rags at times, but I cannot long sustain the illusion.

Sometimes, the exiled king launches raids on my petty, pretend kingdom.  There are victories.  Sometimes I am able to fend off these raids; sometimes not.

Sometimes (more often these days), I wish for a full-scale invasion, a personal D-Day that would sweep away the resistance.

There have been repeated assaults, but so far I have unsuccessfully beaten them back.  It seems as if the exiled King, the Real King, is waiting for some sign from me, some sign that I am no longer willing to be a puppet king in the hands of a malevolent power.

This is a war I need to lose.  I need to lay down my weapons, take off these silly rags I call my royal robes, and abdicate my throne.

This is a war I need to lose.  And having lost, I may discover, to my shock, that I have won.

“THE PROBLEM RELIGION AND SCIENCE SHARE”

The following is from a website that I like a lot—“A-Word-a-Day”.  (https://wordsmith.org/words/today.html), accessed 03-09-2018

“A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:

‘What has occurred over the course of the last few centuries is a growing (but by no means universal or certain) recognition that science gets the job done, while religion makes excuses. Sometimes they are very pretty excuses that capture the imagination of the public, but ultimately, when you want to win a war or heal a dying child or get rich from a discovery or explore Antarctica, you turn to science and reason, or you fail. -PZ Myers, biology professor (b. 9 Mar 1957)’ ”

Now, as will soon become apparent, I don’t entirely agree with this quote.  However, quite often, those who oppose us can teach us a great deal.  This is, at least in part, because they are right and we are not.

Religion does, far too often, make excuses.  And science has indeed enriched our lives. I wrote part of this post while waiting for my coffee to perk.  It stopped on its own.  I used to watch my grandmother keeping an eagle eye on her boiling coffee pot.  She didn’t dare leave it and do something else, lest it boil dry.  What enabled my coffee pot to stop on its own?  I’ll give you a hint: It wasn’t religion.

If I were using an old-fashioned pot to make my coffee (and given my attention deficit disorderly mind), I might burn our house down.  Religion might help me to feel forgiven, but my house would still be ashes and cinders.

On a much more serious note, I heard a man being interviewed on “Fresh Air” on NPR.  Terry Gross asked him about his church involvement.  He said that he had left the church when he was in his early teens.  He had asked serious questions about the evil in the world, and had been simply told that it was God’s will.

Often, for believers and unbelievers alike, such words are not an explanation.  They are an excuse.  The gentleman who was being interviewed was struggling with the death of a favorite uncle, and also with some children about his age who had died.

Of course, science has its own problems.  Science (and its stepchild technology) have been used to win wars, but also to make them even more lethal.  Chemistry is usually considered a science.  Chemical warfare is likely not something most scientists are proud of.

Perhaps the problem with both science and religion is that they share a problem: human nature.  Both science and religion are connected with human nature.  The virtues and vices of both science and religion are the virtues and vices of humankind.  Both have a tendency to become all-consuming.

And, frankly, both science and religion tend to offer excuses, instead of “getting the job done.”  Both science and religion have a tendency to say, “Don’t blame us!  We’re fine!  It’s just how people use us that’s the problem!”

That may well be true at one level.  However, at a deeper level, it sounds to me like an excuse, rather than a rational explanation.  It doesn’t matter whether science or religion is saying it.

It should also be asked whether science and religion are always as incompatible as the quote above implies.  Sometimes, no doubt, they are.  However, there have been (and still are) excellent scientists who are also very religious.

I’m not an expert on either science or religion, but I suspect that the same things might make both stronger and better.  One is an unrelenting quest for what is true.  The other is a dogged humility about how much we actually know about that truth.

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