Broken-hearted confidence + Adam “the son of God”

Today at Qurbana, I was moved by the serene melodies of our Syrian chant and a broken-hearted confidence in the mercy of God evident in the sedra. Despite my recent gripe about church life, I was struck today by the awesome privilege of worship and remembered this: whatever one may say about the Church, it is her life which manifests God’s salvation in the world. I do not save the Church; it is the Church who saves me. Today at the wellspring of her worship I found some kind of healing.

Today, the Lukan genealogy of Jesus (Luke 3.23-28). I’m still wondering what Luke meant by his reference to Adam as “the son of God,” but I’m captivated by Luke Timothy Johnson’s observation that it anticipates and parallels the list of nations present at Pentecost in Acts 2. After he reports the Spirit’s descent on Jesus at His baptism, Luke deploys the genealogy to emphasize the universality of Jesus’ mission by tracing his bloodline to our common father. In his account of Pentecost, the great day when the Spirit commenced descent on the Body of Christ, Luke draws our attention to diversity of the peoples present (Cretans, Arabs, etc.) and thus the universal reach of the Spirit’s action in the last days, bringing multitudes to faith both in the oneness and the multiplicity in language.

What do you all make of the reference to Adam as “the son of God”? What do you think is its function at this juncture of his story of Jesus? I welcome whatever you’ve got.

Of women and politics

This morning, a cleansing, baptismal kind of rain, which I like very much.

It only occurred to me today that Luke’s account of the Visitation (Luke 1.39-56) is a secretive political affair of sorts. One woman, the hidden mother of the hidden king, goes to see her cousin, the hidden mother of the hidden king’s herald. Luke’s preoccupation with the meeting is an overtly political one, as evidenced in the length he devotes to Mary’s Magnificat with its talk of the God of Israel vindicating the holiness of His name; of the rich becoming poor; of the powers that be being pulled down from their thrones….The impression one gets is that the women didn’t actually talk about much else.

I am intrigued by the paradox. Two socially and politically unimportant people discussing God’s plans for a social and political revolution (or is it “inversion”?) in an unnamed town in the hill country of Judea (probably not important enough to deserve mention). Two poor women talking politics in the sticks.

What is the relationship of this text to the Feast of Nativity which it anticipates? I’m not sure, but if you have any ideas I’d love to hear them.

In the meantime, the Nativity Fast approaches faster than I’d like it to.

Fathers

Sunday of the Annunciation to Zechariah. Of John the Baptist the Archangel said, “He will go before [the Lord] in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children…” (Luke 1.17).

Teaching at a college these past few months has once again forced me to confront the real, bleeding wounds left by absent fathers, whether of the psychological or physical kind. As someone who’s just crossed into the world of thirtysomethings, I have no idea what to do with the injured. The only thing that is becoming clearer to me is that there can be no true substitute for fathers. Not mentoring programs, not medication, not positive thinking…not even the kind of Christian piety that says that as long as God is your Father everything will resolve itself. The last might yet be the most dangerous lie the Church has told young people, especially young men. I don’t know.

A few days ago I thought of the words spoken by God at Jesus’ baptism: This is my son, my beloved, in whom I am well-pleased. Then I wondered how many of us men spend all our lives trying to get a father to say those words to us. No answers, but only brooding.

Forerunner, will you help us?

“Do not resist the one who is evil” (Part 2)

καὶ μὴ εἰσενέγκῃς ἡμᾶς εἰς πειρασμόν,
ἀλλὰ ῥῦσαι ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ.

And do not lead us into Tribulation
but deliver us from the one who is evil.

Matthew 6.13

Who is “the one who is evil” and what are we to do if we cannot use aggression against him? More recycling from an archived post:

Finally, the disciples must pray to be spared of the eschatological trial (peirasmos, usually translated “temptation”) that will precede Israel’s restoration, and to be delivered “from the evil one” (apo tou ponērou) (Matthew 6.13). It is important to note that these two statements are linguistically joined together in the Greek by the adversative alla (”but”). The pairing of peirasmos and ho ponēros is highly significant when viewed within the context of the Sermon. “The evil one” (ho ponēros) has already been identified as a potential provoker of the forbidden oaths (Matthew 5.33). More importantly, the ponēros is the enemy who strikes on the right cheek (Matthew 5.39), takes the disciple’s coat (Matthew 5.40), and commandeers him for one mile (Matthew 5.41).

For those who have ears to hear, he is none other than the Roman aggressor! Little wonder, then, that he is linked to the eschatological trial (peirasmos) which Israel must undergo as a prelude to redemption–”the evil one” is, in essence, the most tangible “obstacle” to national restoration! And from this “evil one” the disciples must pray to be delivered, for they have already been forbidden from the use of force: “Do not resist the one who is evil (ho ponēros)” (Matthew 5.39)! They must trust rather in the power of God to change even these enemies by the witness of the light of their good works (Matthew 5.16).

Does this interpretation of ho ponēros necessarily contradict the traditional Christian reading in which “the evil one” is thought to be Satan himself?  I don’t think so.  Although I think the primary historical meaning of “the evil one” is the Roman soldier, the heritage of Christian (especially patristic) exegesis warrants a polyvalent understanding that is still rooted in Jesus’ concrete, historical context.

We can say, for instance, that “the evil one” is someone who stands in the way of the kingdom.  Satan would of course be the chief contender for this title from a Christian perspective, but his work of deception and rebellion finds concrete expressions in the world—in real people and real institutions governed by his lies.  This is why the Book of Revelation did not hesitate to depict the Roman Empire of the first century as a terrifying beast (see Revelation 17), an instrument of Satan.

We can also say that, today, “the evil one” is “incarnated” in those who perpetuate what Shane Claibourne calls “the myth of redemptive violence” (the belief that violence can be ended with more violence) as the Jewish rebels did, as well as the many governments that tout their political ideals and economic progress as means by which human beings can find security, wealth, justice and freedom, much like the Roman Caesars who promised these benefits under the name of σωτηρια—”salvation”.  From these, too, we must pray to be delivered.

“Do not resist the one who is evil”

The Gospel for the Malankara lectionary this Sunday is Matthew 5.38-48. I posted the following commentary on this text over a year ago and thought to let it air a little bit more. Once again, your thoughts and comments are welcome.

*****

“Do not resist one who is evil” (Matthew 5.39). The verb for “resist”, antistēnai, is frequently used by Josephus to describe the military resistance against Roman rule, connoting violence in 15 out of its 17 uses by the Jewish historian. Israel is thus called to renounce not only strategies of violence, but the resistance itself—a departure from the many popular movements of the day. Rather, she must respond with “good works” so that the Roman aggressors might glorify her heavenly Father (Matthew 5.16).

When struck on the right cheek—an act of humiliation, since it is done with the back of the aggressor’s hand—, the disciple must offer his left. If the aggressor were to strike again, he must at least use the front of his hand, thereby recognizing at least to some degree the worth of his victim. By assuming a posture of vulnerability, the disciple thus draws to himself further opportunity to actually serve the offender.

If the aggressor sues him for his coat, the disciple must offer his cloak as well (Matthew 5.40), and if requisitioned by Roman military personnel to go “one thousand paces” (Matthew 5.41), he must go two instead. The word agareusei in Matthew 5.41 (translated “forces” by the RSV) means “presses into service”. Roman soldiers had the right in the first century to forcibly recruit a Jew for an operation. The classic example of this is Simon of Cyrene’s being “compelled” (Matthew 27.32) to bear Jesus’ cross.

For Jesus, Israel must break the cycle of violence that has been imposed upon her whether from within (by the resistance movements) or from without—that is, from Roman occupiers. She is called, not merely to non-resistance, but to go beyond non-resistance to love. In encapsulating his own words, Jesus presents the new perspective that Israel must adopt: the aggressor who takes her coat and commandeers her into forced labor is re-cast as “one who begs from you” and “him who would borrow from you” (Matthew 5.42)! Although commentators often see these sayings about generosity in monetary terms, thus necessitating a sudden shift in Jesus’ stream of thought, I think it is far better to read them as words which invite the hearer to see “the one who is evil” in new light—that is, God’s light—under which the Roman aggressor emerges as a fellow human being who is likewise caught in the drama of sin and violence. He, too, is a beggar and a borrower in need of mercy.

It is this radical perspective one’s enemy as a fellow human being in need—indeed, a “beggar” and a “borrower” to whom one must “give” and “lend”—that is the underlies Jesus’ invitation, not only to a passive non-resistance, but to meet brutality and force with abounding goodness. Only in this way could Israel’s light shine before others for their sake, that they might glorify her heavenly Father.

Jesus’ teaching concerning Israel’s relationship with “outsiders” reaches its climax in his command to love and pray for one’s enemies (Matthew 5.44). In doing so, the disciple will realize his divine sonship—”that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5.45) since God, too, gives to all without discrimination. This, then, is what it means to be one of the “peacemakers” whom Jesus blessed earlier and whom he promised would be called “sons of God” (Matthew 5.9). Unless Israel does this, she is no better than her enemies, be they tax collectors (Matthew 5.46) or “Gentiles”, that is, Roman occupiers (Matthew 5.47).

The conclusion, marked clearly with in the Greek with “therefore” (oun), cannot and must not be missed: it is in loving his enemies and in praying for them, not resisting them with violence, that Jesus’ followers will show themselves to be true sons of God. Indeed, they will then become like God—”perfect” just as he is “perfect” (teleios, Matthew 5.48). The Greek teleios designates not some kind of moral perfection or flawlessness (an interpretation which has sometimes led Christians to a despair induced by perfectionism). In the Septuagint, teleios translates the Hebrew word tamim, which has the basic meaning of “whole”, “complete”, or even “all-encompassing”. This last meaning of tamim fits excellently with the context of Matthew 5.48. The disciples’ love must be all-encompassing, just as their heavenly Father’s love is all-encompassing: “for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5.45).