marramgrass

I began blogging my exploration of this book last week. I didn’t originally intend a blogging-through-the-book series, but that looks like where it’s going.

Following on from that previous post, the next two chapters comprise the remainder of the first section of the book. In these Wright offers a defence of belief in the actual, bodily resurrection of Jesus. In doing so he places the events of the first Easter in context alongside Jewish understanding of resurrection — that it will be the experience of all believers on the ‘last day’ — and identifies how he sees that early Christian belief expresses, to use his terminology, ‘modifications’ or ‘mutations’ of that understanding. These changes, of course, came about as a result of the resurrection of Jesus, an event that Wright argues must affect completely how we view the world around us — he talks in terms of paradigm shift1. I agree.

While, in these chapters, Wright addresses in varying detail many of the arguments against belief in the resurrection of Jesus as it is recorded in Gospel, he is careful to not hang too much on historical and scientific enquiry.

Surprised By Hope (2007), SPCK, p75:

But this is where I want to heed carefully the warnings of those theologians who have cautioned against any attempt to stand on the ground of rationalism and to attempt to ‘prove’, in some ‘mathematical’ fashion, something which, if it happened, ought itself to be regarded as the centre not only of history but also of epistemology, not only of what we know but of how we know it. I do not claim, in other words, that I have hereby ‘proved’ the resurrection in terms of some neutral standpoint. I am offering, rather, a historical challenge to other explanations, and to the worldviews within which they gain their meaning. Precisely because at this point we are faced with worldview-level issues, there is no neutral ground, no island in the middle of the epistemological ocean as yet uncolonized by any of the warring continents. Historical argument alone cannot force anyone to believe that Jesus was raised from the dead; but historical argument is remarkably good at clearing away the undergrowth behind which scepticisms of various sorts have long been hiding. The proposal that Jesus was bodily raised from the dead possesses unrivalled power to explain the historical data at the heart of early Christianity. The obvious fact that this remains hugely challenging at the personal and corporate level ought not to put us off from taking it seriously. Or were we only playing when we entertained the question in the first place?

(The question to be entertained being simply, “did it happen?”)

I found it encouraging and refreshing that a serious, contemporary theologian is happy to state his belief that Jesus was actually, bodily raised from the dead.

The discussion in these two chapters is compelling, but often a little quick and shallow. The author recognises this, and rightly points out that to go into full detail just isn’t possible in this book, but he regularly left me wanting more detail. As the end notes frequently point towards his earlier work (frequently The Resurrection of the Son of God, all 817 pages of it), I suspect that I am about to start a long journey through the writings of Wright.

Glenn recently posted his thoughts on this book, and sparked my interest in a volume which has been working its way up my reading pile for the last few weeks. Yesterday I finally had the chance to sit down and read the first couple of chapters, and at this early stage these are my thoughts in progress. Please note that I am blogging this as I read the book, so at two chapters in it is naturally incomplete.

I tend to read too fast. It means I can get through an astonishing number of books in a year, but when it comes to digesting the more thoughtful texts I have to deliberately slow down. If I don’t force myself to take it easy, I may as well not read the book at all.

Surprised By Hope is NT Wright’s examination of a right Christian understanding of what happens when we die, and what happens next. He begins with the assertion, with plenty of supporting illustration, that we have lost the notion of ‘bodily resurrection’ and all its implications for life now and later, and that when most of us use the word ‘heaven’ we are meaning something very different to what is portrayed in Scripture.

A natural first question is, “so what?”

Surprised By Hope, 2007, SPCK, p37:

What role does a belief in life beyond the grave play within the larger issues which face us in Christian life and thought?

Karl Marx famously spoke of religion as the opium of the people. He supposed that oppressive rulers would use the promise of a joyful future life to try to stop the masses from rising in a revolt. That has indeed often been the case. But my impression is that this is what happens when the ‘religion’ in question includes the Platonic downgrading of bodies and of the created order in general, regarding them as the ‘vain shadows’ of earth, which we shall happily leave behind at death. Why try to improve the present prison if release is at hand? Why oil the wheels of a machine that will soon plunge over a cliff? That is precisely the effect created to this day by some devout Christians who genuinely believe that ’salvation’ has nothing to do with the way the present world is ordered.

When I was studying at Bible college, we had a lecturer in doctrine who spent a great deal of time exploring with us the various views of the ‘end times’ (hear phrases like ‘pre-millenial’ and ‘post-millenial’, and shudder). An American, he acknowledged that while the debate between these various positions had been a big deal in the US, it hadn’t really come to anything in the UK. Yet he impressed on us — and convinced me — that whatever beliefs we claim to hold or actually hold about what will happen in the end, and what will happen to us then or if we die beforehand, have tremendous implications for how we approach day-to-day life in the here-and-now.

As the title of the book suggests, it’s about the nature of the hope that we, as Christians, claim.

The first two chapters are a quick survey of some of the beliefs and assumptions about death and ‘after-life’ that are expressed in our Western society and in the Church, and a fascinating survey it is. Wright then lays out the path the book will take, exploring past beliefs about life after death, presenting the ‘ultimate Christian hope’ — what is a right, Biblical understanding? — and concluding with what all this means for life as it is lived, right now.

Surprised By Hope, 2007, SPCK, p41:

Our task in the present… is to live as resurrection people in between Easter and the final day, with our Christian life, corporate and individual, in both worship and mission, as a sign of the first and a foretaste of the second.

That’s an assertion that excites me, and that has me eager to read the rest of the book.

The Archbishop of Canterbury seems to have have caused a bit of a stir yesterday. He certainly got the politicians jumping :-)

On the surface Dr Williams’ remark seems a pretty daft thing to say, but giving it some thought it leaves me with a couple of questions.

In civil matters (divorce, property disputes, etc.) it may make some sense, as long as all parties agree. Then it becomes mainly a contractual thing (beware, IANAL). Still, let me emphasise may and some. I’m not qualified to go any further, so I’ll leave it with a question mark: ?

The bigger question I find is that of what it means to be a ‘multicultural’, ‘diverse’ or ‘plural’ society?

Law is a different case, of course, but more generally if we want to be able to say we accept and value other cultures, are we kidding ourselves if we then go on and insist that cultural distinctives get left at the door (or the customs checkpoint)? How do we integrate and celebrate difference, rather than ending up with some sort of cultural lowest common denominator where differences are glossed over in case we find we disagree on something? (When did we forget that it’s okay to disagree?)

I had a chat with a friend recently who helps out with a youth group in a church of a mainstream Protestant denomination. One of the young people who comes along is Roman Catholic with a big wide Republican streak. This young person asked if they could do something to commemorate the events of Bloody Sunday, as you’ll surmise a controversial suggestion in that context. I don’t know how that conversation went, but consider this: with all this talk of A Shared Future, how can we acknowledge and accept a shared past and a shared present?

Love him or hate him — I’ve many friends who’ll be distressed when I say I have a soft spot for him — Rowan Williams has certainly got people talking.

All of a sudden, tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. It’s only been about three hours since Christmas, hasn’t it?

In my infant and growing discovery of the liturgical calender, Lent is a season that I’m not terribly familiar with. It’s never been more than that funny time when folks give up chocolate, but we don’t really understand why.

Maggi Dawn has posted a timely reminder of a popular skewed understanding of Lent, and points to an earlier series of posts she made in 2005. If you’re interested in the ideas and the history of the season (I am), I suggest reading them. I will be.

John 1:1-14 (NIV):

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God — children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

As The Message has it, “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighbourhood.”

This portion of the prologue to John’s Gospel is a slip of Scripture that I return to again and again, largely on account of those words. There’s a word theologians use when they talk about it:

Incarnation.

Advent is closing, this is why we’re here.

I had thought about a lengthy post on this one, but I’ve decided to leave it at this: God became man, with all the mess and the fuss and the need that comes with the territory. If you think about it too much, the implications can leave you dumb. So keep it simple: Immanuel — God with us.

Tomorrow the celebration of that birth is upon us. Merry Christmas all.

(What have I been doing?)

Matthew 2:1-12 (NIV):

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.”

When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written: ‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will be the shepherd of my people Israel.’”

Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.”

After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

(What am I doing?)

Luke 2:8-16 (NIV);

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.

According to Luke’s account, the first to hear the news of Jesus’ birth are the shepherds keeping an eye on their sheep overnight — those unlucky souls who spend their nights in the cold, and when they come into town to see the baby they bring their dirt and their sheep-smell with them.

That line, “when the angels had left them and gone into heaven” — I wonder how long the shepherds stood there, watching and listening, amazed by what they were witnessing?

(What am I doing?)

Luke 2:1, 3-7 (NIV):

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.

And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

(What am I doing?)

Luke 1:26-35, 38 (NIV):

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.” Then the angel left her.

The angel greets Mary by telling her that she is “highly favoured” for the “Lord is with you.” Why would that be troubling to her? A young girl, pledged but not yet married, on the wrong side of a military occupation, and it only gets stranger from there. Yes, I can imagine why she might be a little unsure.

Somewhere in the last two thousand years, has the Church lost sight of the way God became man? We became nice and respectable — when? What do we now value? How have we forgotten where we come from?

How can we remember?

Glenn has posted a couple of telling reflections that follow this thread more ably than I can.

(What am I doing?)

Isaiah 11:1-4a, 6-9 (NIV):

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him — the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD — and he will delight in the fear of the LORD. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.

The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.

The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child put his hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

The title says it.

(What am I doing?)