Apocryphal

I was reading from the Apocrypha* today.  Wait, isn't that, like, apocryphal?  What are you doing reading that?

Apocryphal has come to mean "from an unreliable source" and, more baldly, untrue or fabricated.  Can't trust that stuff - avoid it at all costs.  As Protestants we are at best, disinclined to read the texts of the Apocrypha, at worst, inclined to burn them.  How are we to think of these texts?

The Protestant Reformation sentiment around these texts is well-articulated in one of Anglicanism's 39 Articles of Religion (find them all here), number VI to be exact.  I will summarize as the sixth is a long one.  The articles enumerates the canonical (authoritative books of the Old Testament) and states that all the commonly received books of the New Testament are solid (I am sure St. Paul is relieved to have had this endorsement).  It also enumerates the books of the Apocrypha calling them "other books" following the usage of St. Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin (the Vulgate).

Here (finally) is my summary: The Old and New Testaments contain everything necessary for salvation and we can teach as doctrine only what may be established from them. As to these other writings, they may be read for "example of life and instruction in manners" but cannot be used to establish doctrine.  Quite other than our usual avoidance or vilification.

I like to think of it like this.  We read other non-canonical texts for wisdom and understanding or even devotional edification.  Here is a smattering of examples from my favorites list: C.S. Lewis, Tim Keller, Oswald Chambers, Dorothy Sayers.  But there are others: Max Lucado and Beth Moore.  But, one might argue, these are modern authors.  That's different.  (Don't get me started on the appalling poverty of mind and spirit that results from reading only recent authors.) We read also John Calvin, Martin Luther, Brother Lawrence, Dante, St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Augustine, the Desert Fathers.  At least some do. Again a smattering.  

Except where these authors articulate the truth established in the canon of the Old and New Testaments, we cannot say that their teaching is necessary for salvation.  It isn't.  But it certainly can provide insight and encouragement from time to time.  We might find the same in the Apocrypha.

The Apocrypha is a collection of largely intertestamenal writings (authored between when Malachi put down his pen and whenever the first Gospel writer took up his.**)  

It includes, among others, books like Tobit -- an interesting account of a young man and his quest to save a woman who has a remarkable problem with losing husbands.  This one also includes Raphael, in tradition understood to be one of the seven Archangels.  This is, of course, apocryphal and cannot be understood as doctrine, so don't quote me on his heavenly status. Raphael's namesakes include the Renaissance artist and one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

We also find in these writings the story of the Maccabees, the Jewish brothers who overthrew the Selucid oppressors and reclaimed the Jewish temple for worship.  This is a helpful text in understanding intertestamental history, the establishment of the Jewish festival of Hanukkah, and also New Testament references to the Feast of the Dedication (Hanukkah, by any other name...)

Another one is entitled Bel and the Dragon, which sounds like a modern fantasy novel.  Or apparently a burgundy.   Its hero is Daniel, of lion's den fame.  It is actually two stories, one about Bel, the Babylonian counterpart to the Canaanite Baal, in which Daniel is the Jewish Hercule Poirot.  He is sleuth and shows that Bel is a false god.  In the Dragon part Daniel is the first dragon-slayer.  In this he is like Jesus, who crushes the serpent's head (see Genesis 3), and a precursor to St. George and Arthur's Knights.

I do draw a distinction between the Apocrypha and other writings such as the Gospel of Thomas, now in trendy resurgence in some circles.  The Gospel of Thomas and other texts have come to be known as the Gnostic Gospels.  Their resurgence is due, perhaps, to the growth of gnostic*** thought in the Church today.  Unlike the Apocrypha, these texts were rejected by those determining the canon of Scripture as teaching that which is contrary to the faith.  These ones I do avoid.

Today I read from the Apocrypha.  And something struck me.

There is for all one entrance into life and one way out. (Wisdom 7:6)

It comes in the context of the king reflecting on his origins and eventual ends and his commonality with all people.  It reminded me that earthly distinctions between persons are just that, earthly.  Our beginning and end make that clear.  It also reminded me that my life has a beginning and an end, like all others.  In the end it was to me an exhortation to humility.  Necessary for salvation?  No.  Helpful as I walk before God?  Absolutely.

*From the Greek αποκρυπτειν (apo-kryptein), to hide away, to obscure.  The root verb, κρυπτειν (kryptein), is also where we get the English word cryptic which also means obscure or hidden. I am not sure if Superman's home Krypton has also the same root.  Perhaps Jerry Seigel and Joe Shuster, in addition to being Hebrews, were Greek scholars.

**Yes, I know that Matthew appears first in the New Testament canon, but it is not certain that he was the first to write.  Most scholars think Mark's economical and "immediately" peppered text was first.  For that matter, We aren't sure that Malachi was the last of the Old Testament canon written, but you get my point.

***Gnosticism was one of the earliest heresies in the Church.  St. John's first epistle is a Christian defense against gnostic thought.  "God is light, in him there is no darkness at all" (I John 1:5) sounds like an inspired description of his nature.  It is, but it is also a clear polemic against the idea that within God there is a little bit of darkness - the yin/yang idea.  I am not a fan.

The Why of Mercy

We all, I hope, have been the recipients of mercy at some time or other,  moments in our lives when the axe should have fallen, but it did not.  This may have been because our error or transgression went unnoticed.  Or it may have been that the judge in the circumstance showed clemency.

There are a lot of reasons why a magistrate might exhibit leniency.  Perhaps we are first-time offenders. Or maybe there were "extenuating circumstances" which led to our poor decision or behavior.  Sometimes we experience mercy because we demonstrate real contrition.  (I say "real" contrition to contrast it with dramatic emotional displays intended to evoke sympathy.  Real contrition is not about the amplitude of our wailing but our change in behavior: "Bear fruit in keeping with repentance.")

I was reading Exodus 32 this week, the story of Aaron and the Israelites making a golden calf to worship because Moses is delayed on the mountain with God.  The story has a number of details which are so illustrative of our response to criticism or judgment as to be almost amusing.  Take, for example, Aaron's response to Moses' question, "What did this people do to you that you have brought such a great sin on them?"   

And Aaron said, “Let not the anger of my lord burn hot. You know the people, that they are set on evil. For they said to me, ‘Make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’ So I said to them, ‘Let any who have gold take it off.’ So they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf.”  (Exodus 32:22-24 ESV)

In spite of the fact that I was left in charge and was intimately involved in this enterprise, I really had nothing to do with it.  These people, I mean, what can you do with them?  I did ask for their earrings and melted them -- nothing wrong in that. And out came this calf.

It's the "out came this calf" bit that gets me.  I suppose that there is some infinitesimal chance that a bunch of metal thrown into a fire  might melt and take the form of a calf, spontaneously, by itself, if the laws of physics were entirely different.  (I'm no smelter but I think molten metal left on its own tends to form a roundish puddle rather unlike a young bovine.)  But even given this chance, Aaron is busted as obviously someone noticed that he "fashioned it with a graving tool and made a golden calf." (v. 4)

It is either a) someone else's fault -- see the blame fest in Genesis 3 -- or b) something that just "happened" or c) both of the above.  These are attempts by us (and we are all like Aaron) to avoid the responsibility.  I have noticed even in conversation that we often say things like "I ended up going to a movie" or "ended up driving to Tijuana" or "ended up drinking 14 bottles of wine."  (All these are merely examples and I myself have never driven to Tijuana or consumed so much wine -- unless you are counting this last one over a lifetime.)  I have not "ended up" doing anything.  Ridiculous.  I have made decisions to do x, y or z. 

But this was about mercy.  God, in Exodus 32, warns Moses that the people have "erred and strayed from his ways" before Moses even goes down the mountain.  Before he even views the scene Moses pleads the clemency or mercy of God.  And God grants it.

Now what are Moses' arguments?  "Lord, they are first time offenders.  I'm sure it's just a phase they are going through.  Have a heart and give them another chance."  Not exactly.  Did he say, "It's been a rough go for them since leaving Egypt.  They've been hungry and thirsty.  Tired as well.  You know the silly things people do when they are sleep-deprived.  Surely these are extenuating circumstances."  No, not that either.  What about, "No disrespect intended God, but you did rather go on and on these past 40 days here on the mountain.  You can't expect them to wait forever for a religious festival, or drinking party or whatever it is.  You could have written these tablets a little quicker.  Surely that should be part of your consideration."  Definitely not.

Moses' appeal for mercy on behalf of the people is not about the people at all.  Not one little bit.  It is about the Name of God and his character.  Here is the "legal" argument before the judge:

But Moses implored the LORD his God and said, “O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you have brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘With evil intent did he bring them out, to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earth?' Turn from your burning anger and relent from this disaster against your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, to whom you swore by your own self, and said to them, ‘I will multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your offspring, and they shall inherit it forever.’”

(Exodus 32:11-13 ESV)

No mention of the trials and tribulations of the Israelites, their honest mistake or understandable impatience.  

God be merciful that your name may be honored and that you manifest your character and faithfulness.

1.  God do not wipe this people out because the Egyptians will speak ill of your name.  For Moses the first concern is that God's name be honored.  It is one of our first concerns or at least it is our first petition when we say the Lord's prayer, "hallowed be thy name."  

2.  God remember your promise to our forefathers.  You are true to your promise.  That is who you are. 

Moses' cry to God for mercy for the people is for the honor of his Name.  As is always the case, the Biblical narrative we read is actually about God and not the Israelites, or us, or our comfort or even our sins.

Why is God merciful here (or anywhere)?  Because it is his nature and character and for the honor of his Name.  Honor and glory and might and blessing be unto his Name now and evermore.

Encouragement

Barnabas, missionary and sometime traveling companion of Paul, had a particular gift.  James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were also known as sons of thunder.  I am uncertain whether this appellation is a description of the two apostles or their father - either way it is likely an indication of temperament.  But Barnabas, whose given name was Joseph, means "son of encouragement”. (Acts 4:36)    We could use more sons of encouragement.”

The meaning of the word “encourage” is not in the least arcane.  It means to put courage in.  Encouragement gives us confidence to move forward.  

But here are some things that encouragement is not.  Encouragement is not building someone's self-esteem, although this might be a byproduct of the process.  In our efforts to protect and nurture self-esteem in others, we are often anxious to affirm everything in them.  You are the best _________ (fill in the blank).  While this is very nice and preferable to constant critique, it is quite often just telling them lies.  Encouragement is always about what is true.

Here's another:

For there is no truth in their mouth;

    their inmost self is destruction;

their throat is an open grave;

    they flatter with their tongue. (Psalm 5:9 ESV)

Encouragement is not flattery.  The flatterer uses empty words that appeal to our vanity.  The purpose of flattery is not to build the other up but rather to curry favor or ingratiate oneself.  I met someone a few years back, who was very nice and "encouraging" but I always felt something amiss in interactions with him.  I eventually realized that he was a flatterer and that his words of encouragement were not intended to build the other up, but rather to enhance his position with others.  It seems to be other-centered but it is not.  

The thing about flattery is that it might be true - or not. But we always wish it were true.  When we are subtly manipulated by flatterers, we must remember that it is not just the flatterer's fault.  The flattery appeals to our own vanity (for which we are responsible). We like to be thought of as clever or attractive or athletic or compassionate. (At least I do.)  That fondness is the way in for flattery.

Encouragement is always about the truth and always about the other.  It is an admiration or appreciation for a quality or act in someone that is named.  Aloud.  The aloud part matters.  My miss on the encouragement front is the failure to state the truth, the appreciation aloud.  This is for two reasons.  First, I am a problem-solver.  Sounds good.  Might put it on my resume.  But it means I am always alert first to the problem, what is not good in persons and situations.  Thus I am far too easily critical.  The second reason is that I have, as we say in our family, a "rich inner-life”.  Which means that I have many conversations with myself in my head.  My appreciation and encouragement is named, but not aloud.  I am not an encourager if I just think something.  Nor am I encouraged if I don't hear the words.

While the indiscriminate self-esteem builders and the flatterers use insincere or self-seeking words, encouragers boldly speak true words for others when they are needed.  And sometimes even when they are not.  This encouragement, the naming of our true gifts and strengths, is necessary for us to grow and further develop those strengths.  We grow and become in dialogue, not monologue.  We are given courage when we hear these words and we are confident to move forward.

But there is another kind of encouragement that is not about naming our strengths.  It is still all about truth and other-centered.  Courage is poured into us when we hear the truth about God.  "...he will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deuteronomy 31:6)  That gives me courage.  One of the names of God in the Old Testament is Jehovah Jireh, or more accurately YHWH* Jireh, the Lord provides - an encouraging reminder.  "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." (Romans 8:1)  I could go on. 

So my prayer is that I would see first the good, and then speak it aloud, so I too can be a Barnabas.

* This is one of my favorite little Hebrew titbits.  The tetragrammaton (four letters) is a technical word for the name for God we Christians often pronounce "Yahweh."  Truth be told, no one knows how the letters יהוה should be pronounced because observant Jews do not say the name of God and usually write it G-d.  And Hebrew is a vowelless written language (at least originally).  So when one sees יהוה one is meant to either not say the name or say something else - and the something else is usually Adonai אֲדֹנָי.  You will notice in this second word the little squiggly marks around the letters.  Squiggly is not the technical term.  They are called diacriticals.

So suppose here I am, an observant Jew recopying a manuscript  somewhere between the 7th and 10th centuries.  By this time diacriticals were used in Hebrew to indicate the pronunciation of the word.  But tragically, I must not pronounce יהוה so when I see it I say "Adonai".   But what do I do as I copy it down?  Well since I say "Adonai" why don't I use its diacriticals or something very close to them to indicate what the reader should pronounce.  So I now write יהוה as  יְהוָה .  A good Jew would know to say Adonai here.  Not so the unsuspecting Christian who later discovers this text and who, frankly, isn't in conversation with Jewish scholars.  These scholars then see the word and sound out the letters with the vowels and they get "YeHoWaH" or "JeHoVaH" (caps are the Hebrew consonants).  Trust me, this is how it would sound.  

I can never bring myself to tell the Jehovah's Witnesses at my door that their denomination's name is based on a Christian's mistaken pronunciation of a Hebrew word.  Where's the harm?

Jehovah has become a common name for God and is widely used.  And I think this worth continuing if only for the fact that "Guide me O thou great Adonai" would be rather jarring to sing.

Laugh

My wife told me yesterday I am not a relaxed person, or a relaxing person or something like this.  The comment came when she was opining about how much more relaxing it is to travel with the friends whose guests we are this week.  She made some attempt to suggest that there was something good, or at least endearing about my enervating presence but I remain unconvinced.

I can take little umbrage at this for I am, without question, what people often describe as intense.  I take life, work and even play seriously. (Tamara does not see how 400 mile cycle trips could be fun - although she has yet to try...). I remember that my mother used to say, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." This from the woman who slept about 4 hours a night and often was found making bread at 5 am.  Very little sitting about eating bonbons for her.

Being serious about work is a virtue encouraged by generations of my Scots ancestors.  The characteristic of the Protestant Reformation that most left an impression on my family was perhaps the work ethic of the same name.  All well and good.  But my mother was right about Jack.

As a Christian I am attentive, I hope, to the way in which my behaviors and attitudes affect how others perceive the faith.  And all intensity and seriousness has its drawbacks.  One of my greatest objections to serious Christians when I was younger was just exactly the fact that they seemed to be the Jacks of which my mother was speaking.  The Christian club in my high school was a collection, I am sad to say, of people who seemed to have had their sense of humor surgically removed.  Serious and intense.  Dull.  To be fair I made no particular attempt to get beyond the surface and discover their inner joviality. (Joviality they might have objected to in principle as it comes from the influence of the pagan Roman god Jove.)  But I come back to my struggle -- there was nothing about them which incited any such attempt.

Too often we forget the exhortation that opens Psalm 100: "Be joyful in the Lord, all you lands!" And Paul's reminder that God loves a cheerful giver.  I know that in the context Paul is commenting on financial giving, but might it not also apply to the giving of our selves, souls and bodies?  Just a thought.

It is worth noting that I first took Christian faith as something desirable when I met a young woman in France who loved Jesus and life, dare I say it, jovially.  She was the kind of person who, for the sheer joy of it, would turn a cartwheel in the street. (I used to have photographic evidence, but alas I have lost that snapshot.)  I remain indebted to her witness -- she was the first person who portrayed to me something appealing about being a Christian.

All very interesting, you might be saying, but where is he going?  And that, dear reader, is the question.  I have always desired (seriously and intensely) to be a writer.  This blog has been part of the fulfillment of that desire for me.  I have often thought that the most beneficial and useful sort of writing I could do would be to encourage people to a deeper knowledge of God.  This I long for.   He is always, larger, more glorious, more gracious and merciful than we think.  It is also something I believe he longs for.  One of the few ways in which I reflect his character.

But all seriousness and intensity makes Jack a dull boy, and frankly, a poor witness.  There is something else I desire -- to laugh and to hear others laugh.  "If you can't be good," think I, "at least be funny."  As I continue to write this, and other things (I hope), I will be pleased if it encourages others to deeper love of Jesus.  But I will also be pleased if, from time to time, you laugh.

And laughing may not be far from what he longs for either.  In Lewis' last of the Narnian chronicles,  The Last Battle, Aslan says to those assembled, "You do not yet seem as happy as I mean you to be."  I think that might apply to more than just me.

Missing the point

Last Sunday was Easter.  We were assisted in our praise of the resurrection by trombone and trumpet with the processional hymn - spectacular in our small congregation.  A few people remarked to me that it was a beautiful service.  To which I responded, "It's hard to wreck Easter."  Hard, but not impossible...

I am distressed to say that I once attended an Easter Sunday service where someone thought it would be a good idea recite an alternative creed.  This is alarming enough as the word "alternative" should be used only with words like "rock" and "therapy."  But not half so alarming as the creed itself.  It began as I recall, "I believe in butterflies and bunnies..."  I experienced this sentimental twaddle many years ago, before I was a follower of Jesus and even then I thought it piffle.  (How often can one use "twaddle" and "piffle" in one sentence?)  Missing from this theological marvel was any reference to Jesus' resurrection from the dead.  As much as I am warm to beautiful and cuddly animals, butterflies and bunnies are slightly less spectacular than destroying the power of death.  Although, to be fair, I have never seen the Monarch Butterfly migration site in Mexico.  I hear that's quite good.  Nope.  Still doesn't cut it.

Today I was forwarded an article reporting on the Easter service the President apparently attended.  Here's a quote:
"At Saint John’s Episcopal Church, Rev. Luis Leon talked about things you might expect from an Easter sermon: love, hate, peace, faith and belief. "

Yes.  Things you might expect from an Easter sermon. Too true.  I concede that "love, hate, peace, faith and belief" are an improvement over insects and rodents, but still.  Could we not just say, "Alleluia, Christ is risen!  The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!" (We did.)  In all of those vague and silly attempts to make Easter or Christianity "relevant" or something like that, we are ignoring the elephant in the room. He who was dead is alive again.  

Let me repeat it for those who had the misfortune of attending a "relevant" Easter service this week - He who was dead is alive again.  Jesus, crucified, died and buried lives.  Mary Magdalene running from the tomb to tell the disciples "I have seen the Lord."  Men in shining robes asking those coming to the tomb that Sunday morning, "Why do you seek the living among the dead?"  That is what Easter is about.  Nary a bunny in the story.

For some reason some have come to feel the resurrection is embarrassing or irrelevant.  How can it possibly be more embarrassing than the above-mentioned creed?  You might think it irrelevant to you.  I can assure you that the dying friend I visited this week finds it terribly relevant - and we will all be in her situation some day.

If we as Christians are going to be held in derision for something, let it be for proclaiming the Gospel - Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again - rather than sentimental and TRULY irrelevant claptrap.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!  Everything else is missing the point.