Category Archives: Reading the BIble

Widows in context?

30 Friday Oct 2020

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Every now and then the lectionary throws up a reading which, as my old headmistress used to put it, “gives you furiously to think”; this morning’s reading, 1 Tim 5:1-16 is one such. Maybe you have to be a feminist to think that all sounds a wee bit sexist, but then I turned to the (wonderful) Reflections for Daily Prayer 2019-2020, to find Fr Marcus Green commenting:

These verses can seem patriarchal and even plain sexist. However, it’s always easy to sit in judgment on another community in another place in another age, and I am sure that others in future will do it to us too.

There is wisdom, let us attend!

Fr Green reminds us that in Paul’s time attitudes were different, and what Paul was counselling was, by the standards of the day, pretty radical. He also (and his reflections really are super) gets us to pause in our own day by referring to the fact that our first religious duty is to our own family:

In a world where the elderly and the infirm are too often viewed as a burden, and where care is seen as the State’s responsibility (or a business if we can afford to pay) perhaps we might be slower to feel uneasy with anything Paul writes. His solutions may not fit our lifestyles, but behind them lie the simple understanding that every person is a person loved by God

Again, let us attend to such wisdom!

It is also a reminder that context matters.

That said, would we really, even in our day, take seriously the instruction to “refuse to put younger widows on the list; for when their sensual desires alienate them from Christ, they want to marry.” There’s no getting away from the fact that to most modern ears this comes through as thoroughly sexist, and patriarchal. Paul clearly had his problems either with the way some women in the church behaved, or, as some think, with women and sex, full stop. That would hardly make him unique in the history of mankind, my father, who was already an old man when I was born, once said to me that: ‘any man who says he understands women is fooling only himself’.

But, if we can, and should, take Paul’s comments here in context rather than as prescriptive, it raises interesting questions about why we should read some of his other comments about women as definitive? In the Roman tradition there’s a ready answer, which is that the Papacy has accepted that it is so. In my own Church we have long taken a more balanced view of tradition.

As someone who considers herself an Anglo-Catholic, I value tradition hugely. I have written here about the value of the eucharist and how, for me, as for all Catholics, Christ is present in the consecrated bread and wine; I simply have no need for over-precise definitions. Tradition is a crucial check on what could otherwise be a gadarene rush to be on trend. But if it is not held in check, then it can lead to ossification.

Married priests are but one example. No one denies that in the early church and for long afterwards, priests and even bishops could be married, and there is nothing in Scripture against it. Equally, no one can deny that the Church came to take the view that this was not desirable and forbade it. That my own church, like others, came back to the earlier view is also undeniable. Where trouble comes is if a church insists that its view is definitive, when history shows there is no definitive teaching here. There is a view in the Church of Rome that priestly celibacy is a discipline, but it is not one which applies to some of the Easterm Rite Churches or to the Ordinariate. In other words, even there, there is adaptation to circumstances.

In my own church, this acceptance that tradition needs to be balanced with reason and scripture has led some to feel, as they always will, that we have gone too far, too fast, whilst others, equally naturally, feel that we have moved at a snail’s pace and then, only under huge pressure. But here we see another way in which the Anglican Church is a via media – a middle way. We seek to bring to the reading of Scripture the insights of scholarship as well of tradition, and working together, to find how best to preach the gospel to a world which has never really wanted to hear it.

Wheat and tares

26 Monday Oct 2020

Posted by in Bible, Faith, Reading the BIble, St Matthew's Gospel

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As part of a course I am on, we have been looking at some of the parables. Matthew 13: 23-30, 36-43, on the wheat and the tares is particularly rich, and the Rev. Paula Gooder’s new book on The Parables, throws a particularly interesting light on a parable which has long intrigued me. I didn’t know that there was a Roman law against the sowing of darnel (which is the weed at issue) in a wheat field as an act of sabotage; it suggests that the scenario Jesus was outlining was not uncommon. Darnel looks just like wheat at forst, but as it gorws it produces a black seed and a fungus which is toxic to us; those who heard the parable would have known this, which would have made its message even more telling. The contrast between the good seed and the black seed, the one giving life, the other bringing disease and even death is striking.

The focus in this parable is on our experience of the kingdom in the present, although of course there are lessons for the future. It directs our attention to how we deal with the presence of evil and wrong-doing in our world, not just in the church. I have always taken the ‘enemy’ to be Satan, who deliberately sets out to sabotage the kingdom, and was relieved and pleased to see that Dr Gooder suggests this is a reasonable interpretation. This invites the question of what we are to do in the face of deliberate evil, and here, Jesus surprises us (as he so often does). He does not advise that we go out and root up the tares because we might damage the good wheat in the process. His advice is to let God judge.

That’s a good reminder to all those of us who are apt to think we can help God out by judging who is and who is not in his kingdom; we can’t, and we shouldn’t. C451 is fond of saying that God is the only just judge, and that being the case, we should back off. But it invites us to think about what we should do, because the outcome for the tares is not going to be a good one when the harvest is gathered in.

The two main images used by Matthew are interesting. One, used in Matthew 8:12; 22:13 and 25:30 is ‘outer darkness, but here it is more graphic – and fiery. The suggestion is clear – that there will be a judgement and those who are toxic will be subject to it. How we align that with ‘outer darkness’ is another issue.

What can we do? The kingdom is coming, it is here, it is growing. It grows in us, and criticial here is the water of life and the body and blood of Christ. The one garden we can cultivate us our own, and we should concentrate on that rather than on passing judgment on others.

Refusing God?

11 Sunday Oct 2020

Posted by in Catholic Tradition, Reading the BIble, St Matthew's Gospel

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Today’s Gospel can be shocking on first reading and provides a perfect example of why we need guidance in reading Scriptures. Matthew 22.15-22 seems, on the surface, to provide all the reinforcement one might need to justify an almost vengeful reading of God’s nature. When those invited refuse the invitation, the King gets so angry that he sends his army to destroy those who have refused him. Then, having brought in those found in the highways and the byways, he picks on one poor man who has not dressed up and gets him thrown out. How, you might ask, can the poor man be all dressed up when he wasn’t even expecting to be invited to a wedding?

St Jerome, as so often, guides our feet to where they should be. He tells us, in his commentary on Matthew that the ‘wedding garments’ are ‘the Lord’s commands and the works that are fulfilled from the Law and the Gospel.’ If we have responded to God’s invitation then we have signed up to having ourselves changed – we have put on the ‘new Adam’ (or indeed the ‘new Eve’). The King asks the man why he has not done this and the man does not answer. He wishes to accept God’s invitation on his own terms, not God’s.

We see here the true meaning – and how correct it is. Initially God chose the Jews, but many of those rejected him, and so the invitation was thrown out to us all. In Christ there is no more ‘Jew’ nor ‘Gentile’, though we see from Acts how hard many of the Jewish religious establishment found it to accept Paul’s message. But so many of us are ‘too busy’ to take up the invitation. We have more important things to do; and even when some of us take it up, we think to do so on our own terms. We’re busy people. God loves us, but leaves us, as any father will, to make our own choice about whether that love is reciprocated.

St Augustine is clear that the proper wedding garment is the charity that is the fruit of our faith: ‘the garment required is in the heart, not on the body.’ (Sermon 90:4; 90:6) As St Paul tells us, we can do all manner of good things, but if we do not have ‘charity’ then they are of no avail. It is we who are rejecting God, not the other way around. We are warned here of the consequences of our actions, or rather, inactions.

The Good News is that there is time for us to change. The bad news is all around us, namely that so few of us do that. But before we get all censorious and risk being self-righteouss, let each one of us search her heart and ask what we have done and are doing to witness to the truth that is in us? Does the way we behave, does the way our church behave, suggest to others that the invitation is worth taking up? Are we, indeed, dressed in the ‘wedding garment’ or have we turned up on our own terms, expecting to be accepted on our terms?

By what authority?

28 Monday Sep 2020

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In yesterday’s Gospel, the chief priests and the elders put a critical question to Jesus, asking him by “what authority” he did what he did. It was a trick question. They were all learned enough in the Scriptures to know who it was had the authority to cleanse the courts of the Temple and to forgive sins – it was the Messiah. The question they really wanted to ask Jesus was whether he was the Messiah. Why did they not do so?

Part of the answer comes in verses 25 and 26 – “they were afraid.” Jesus put them on the spot by asking about John the Baptist. They were scared that if they said that his baptism was “of man” then they would fall foul of the people. But, of course, if they said it was “of God” they’d be asked why they had not believed him. Jesus was putting them in the same position with regard to their real question. If they had said that his authority was “of man” they would have fallen foul of those who had recently celebrated his entry into Jerusalem. If they acclaimned him as Messiah – well then what?

Then their world would have been turned upside down. They were a privileged class. They were, in effect, the “second son” to whom Jesus refers in verse 30. They paid lip-service to doing the work of the Father, but in practice they put burdens on the people and puffed themselves up. Like the rich man getting into Heaven, their privileges blinded them to the Good News. They prayed that the Messiah would come, they knew from their Scriptures that he would – one day. But that “one day” was that day, and they were in no way ready to receive him. It ran counter to their interests to do so.

That was no the case with the outcasts, who here are symbolised by the “tax collectors” and “prostitutes”. They, who had already lost all in the eyes of the religious and the righteous, had no barriers to receiving the hope brought by Jesus. For them, having their world turned upside down was a good thing. How remarkable for them, as for us, that in spite of the things we have done – and not done – we can receive the Good News. We are not asked to “earn” it by “good works”. But if we have received it, then we give as we have received, not in the hope of reward, but because we have been rewarded.

As with the elders and chief priests, perhaps our own preconceptions can blind us to the Good News. How hard is it for us sometimes to accept that Grace is free when we can feel that we work hard in the vineyard – and yet those who join at the final hour are rewarded as though they had done a full day’s work. But then which of us could ever be worthy of salvation? Which of us does not want that precious gift and to emphasise its preciousness in the way the world does that, by talking about the price paid; and here were are being told that even if we start by disobeying the Father, if we turn and do his work, then we are saved.

As usual, Jesus’s wisdom is beyond that of the religious establishment of his day – and not, perhaps just his day. We can set up all sorts of rules and regulations, dos and don’ts, but if we receive his word as children and obey, then we do his work.

Going to the dogs?

18 Tuesday Aug 2020

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If you want a good example of what my last post was talking about, read the excellent critique by Dr Ian Paul of the recent trend to treat Sunday’s Gospel reading as a sign that Jesus was fallible and even racist, as one author puts it: ‘Jesus’ statement was full of prejudice and ethnocentrism.’ I shan’t trespass on Dr Paul’s quite brilliant dissection of this nonsense, for nonsense it is, but what I will do is use it as a more detailed illustration of why we can’t just use our own reading of a text as normative. The reason that some writers come to the conclusion just quoted is that they bring their own preconceptions to the text and then seem to stand amazed that they have found them there. But what happens if you read it with the mind of the Church and with some knowledge of the background?

Yes, it is true that then, as now, ‘dog’ was meant as an insult. Nowadays you generally only hear this when it is applied to women, as in ‘stupid bitch!’ (Okay, okay, I had almost scraped his wing mirror, but the operative word is ‘almost’). None of the ancient commentators doubted that for a moment, but not being of the view that Christianity was “white” and needed a “Black lives matter” moment, they help take us to the heart of what is going on in these verses.

The tension is best understood if we take on the realisation that Matthew’s is the most Jewish of all the Gospels. We see this in microcosm here, where the emphasis we see elsewhere is particularly focussed: it is the ‘lost sheep’ of Israel who are the target of Jesus’ mission. The Jews are likened to ‘children’, on account, Theodore of Mopsuestia tells us ‘of the fact that they appeared to be devoted to God.’ (Fragments, 83.0. He has come to offer them the ‘bread’ of life. But we know they will reject it. As St Augustine put it (Sermon 77.11-12) “because of that pride, they were unwilling to respond to Christ the author of humility.” This is not true of the Canaanite woman, who in the face of being treated as she would have expected to have been treated makes no protest and shows two things the Jews lack – humility, and with it, faith. In short, it is the Jews who are being criticised here. As in the case of the centurion, it is the Gentiles who show faith when the people of Moses lack it.

So, if we read in the eye of faith and with tradition, we save ourselves from the folly our own arrogance can bring on us. That’s never to say that our own reason cannot help provide insights, but it is to say it’s best checked against what others have read before us. The very idea that Jesus was ‘racist’ would mean he was a sinner, and we are told that he was like us in all things save sin.

What we see here is that the Jews will need to learn the lesson that Paul will teach them, that in Christ there is neither male nor female, Jew nor Gentile, and we all need to learn the lesson the woman shows us – that faith moves mountains and that we should trust in the Lord – because we shall never be confounded.

We need to beware of and check our own biases, which is not to say that there’s some ‘neutral’ reading possible. What there is, however, is a spiritually informed reading, made in prayer and with reflection and guidance. That’s why I love commentaries. If I only know what I bring to the Scriptures, I am unlikely to take anything else away, unless, as is sometimes the case, I feel the Spirit move me. But the latter, I note, happens more often if I have prepared the way by prayer and through study. The Good Lord gave me a brain and reason, I should be prepared to pay the tribute of using them. Then, of course, there’s a really good sermon, which can be the most wonderful way of igniting our passion to know more.

Consistent with love?

01 Saturday Aug 2020

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I recently had occasion to quote this to our long-time commentator, Bosco: “Whatever is not consistent with love of God and neighbour cannot be a right interpretation of Scripture.” St Augustine was the author of this wise saying, and it is the key to our understanding of Scripture.

One reason, politeness apart, that I interact with Bosco here is that beneath the unappealing surface of what he writes, there is a child of God and a man who believes that he is “saved” and has a concern for the rest of us. Ironically, when he criticises St Thomas More and others in the Church for the way they treated heretics in the past, he fails to see that they were motivated by much the same thoughts that motivate him, namely the view that someone else is teaching “another gospel” and putting their soul in peril, as well as the souls of others. More, like his Protestant successors, had the power of the State on his side and could use it to correct error. Bosco only has the internet, which he uses to scarify the Catholic Church, which he believes is in error. And so it goes on.

The Bible is not a text-book, it is not a history book, it is not a work of scientific accuracy, and yet we believe, nay we know, that it contains everything we need to know in order to attain salvation. But how are we to understand it? Bosco tells us confidently that it explains itself to the person of faith, and follows that up by demonstrating that it doesn’t, by coming to conclusions the diametric opposite of others who read it. Now, it is of course, just possible that a small group of American Fundamentalists understand the Book Canonised by the Church better than the Church which Canonised it, but on the balance of probabilities, it would be unwise to bet the farm, let alone your soul, on it.

At this point in internet “dialogue” it is common to get into proof-texting. Well, I can speak only for myself and I don’t kow about you, but I am heartily sick of Christians from different Churches throwing proof texts at each other.

In her post yesterday, Audre advised us that she was a “big picture” person, and that is good advice. Once we realise that the biggest picture is that God is love, and therefore any interpretation of Scripture inconsistent with love of God and neighbour cannot be correct. It follows that in our dealings with each other, whilst love might lead us to be alarmed that x or y is “wrong” in their interpretation, so might we be.

It is for that reason that Catholics, Anglicans and Orthodox look to the teaching of the Church to support the readings which their own reasoning suggests. No-one who knows anything about the Catholic Church could believe what only those who know nothing about it propound when they suggest that it seeks to tell its members how the read the Bible in every aspect of its richness. That is not, and never has been, the function of the Church.

The Church is the repository of the “rule of Faith”. It is the guardian of the Creeds through which it interprets what it received from the hands of the Apostles themselves. So, to take one example, you can argue about what you think the Trinity is, and you can support yourself with proof-texts, but the Church knows that heretical positions were, in the past (as now) supported by clever men (and it is always men … just saying) with arguments of their own devising, and so, if we are wise, we will turn to the Church to see what it has to say on the matter. There we discover the wisdom of the ages, guided by the Holy Spirit. We can then measure our own conclusions against that collective wisdom. If we think we are right, then of course, we shall act on that. But if we are wise, we will pray for discernment. I don’t know about you, but I lack whatever spirit it is that leads people to believe that they know better than the mind of the Church.

Love is the guide for how we should read Scripture. We bring to it emotional and cultural baggage which is bound to influence how we read and interpret, and it is right that should be the case; even were it not right, it is inevitable. But then let us measure our thoughts against the yardstick that God is Love. The Holy Spirit speaks to us in love, but in the struggle to translate that into words, we can miss the deeper level at which He communicates to us. God abides with us always. Of course we will feel ourselves “unworthy”, and we are – by our standards. If we look at us through God’s eyes, we are the reason that Christ suffered, died, was buried and rose again, we are loved that much. Do you get it? I don’t in my head, but I do emotionally. It makes no sense to my earthly standards, but that just tells me how far those are from God’s.

The Holy Spirit speaks through the Church, and He speaks to all of us if we have ears to hear and a heart open to receiving Him. I am unworthy, and yet Christ died for me, so I am worthy. Yes, I see the distance between this weak and fallible person and the infinite goodness of the Trinity, but then through prayer and through Grace, I have faith that the gap will narrow and I can enter more deeply into the ultimate reality of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Choosing the Canon (4) the rule of faith

31 Friday Jul 2020

Posted by in Bible, Catholic Tradition, Early Church, Faith, Reading the BIble

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“Wherefore, let us leave empty and vain thoughts, and come unto the glorious and venerable rule of our holy calling,” thus  Titus Flavius Clemens, or as he is better known to history, Clement of Alexandria, in  his first letter to the Corinthians. what was this “rule of faith’? Irenaeus outlines it in chapter 9 of the first book of Adversus Heraesis when he writes about St John:

proclaiming one God, the Almighty, and one Jesus Christ, the Only-begotten, by whom all things were made, declares that this was the Son of God, this the Only-begotten, this the Former of all things, this the true Light who enlighteneth every man, this the Creator of the world, this He that came to His own, this He that became flesh and dwelt among us

We see it in Tertullian (c.160-225), Hippolytus (c.170-236), as well as later in St Athanasius (c.296-373) and St Augustine (c. 354-4300. It consists of a statement of early Christian teaching and communal belief which could be used, as Clement used it, to refute heresy.

The core belief was that Jesus is the Son of God, the Creator of all things, who had become man and dwelt among us, and who died on the Cross, rose from the dead, and later ascended into Heaven, and who is the Way, the Truth and the Light. These beliefs were supported in the Apostolic writings which were identified by tradition because they were the “rule of faith” by which Christians could be assured of these things. That did not stop some Christians, like Irenaeus taking a view which rested on revelation, tradition, and on the power of the Holy Spirit, or others, like Clement, taking a more philosophical view. The “rule of faith” allowed both idioms; what it did not allow was Gnostic claims that there was “another Saviour, and another Logos, the son of Monogenes, and another Christ produced for the re-establishment of the Pleroma.” This “rule of faith” we see across the Mediterranean and what we call the Middle East, it was not the product of Rome or, indeed, of any central authority, it was the common possession of the Church from the “elders” supported by the Canon.

This is expressed best by Irenaeus when he wrote:

The blessed apostles, then, having founded and built up the Church, committed into the hands of Linus the office of the episcopate. Of this Linus, Paul makes mention in the Epistles to Timothy. To him succeeded Anacletus; and after him, in the third place from the apostles, Clement was allotted the bishopric. This man, as he had seen the blessed apostles, and had been conversant with them, might be said to have the preaching of the apostles still echoing [in his ears], and their traditions before his eyes. Nor was he alone [in this], for there were many still remaining who had received instructions from the apostles. In the time of this Clement, no small dissension having occurred among the brethren at Corinth, the Church in Rome despatched a most powerful letter to the Corinthians, exhorting them to peace, renewing their faith, and declaring the tradition which it had lately received from the apostles, proclaiming the one God, omnipotent, the Maker of heaven and earth, the Creator of man, who brought on the deluge, and called Abraham, who led the people from the land of Egypt, spake with Moses, set forth the law, sent the prophets, and who has prepared fire for the devil and his angels. From this document, whosoever chooses to do so, may learn that He, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, was preached by the Churches, and may also understand the apostolical tradition of the Church, since this Epistle is of older date than these men who are now propagating falsehood, and who conjure into existence another god beyond the Creator and the Maker of all existing things. To this Clement there succeeded Evaristus. Alexander followed Evaristus; then, sixth from the apostles, Sixtus was appointed; after him, Telephorus, who was gloriously martyred; then Hyginus; after him, Pius; then after him, Anicetus. Sorer having succeeded Anicetus, Eleutherius does now, in the twelfth place from the apostles, hold the inheritance of the episcopate. In this order, and by this succession, the ecclesiastical tradition from the apostles, and the preaching of the truth, have come down to us. And this is most abundant proof that there is one and the same vivifying faith, which has been preserved in the Church from the apostles until now, and handed down in truth.

This is worth quoting at length as it conveys better than any summary the way in which Bishops like Irenaeus saw themselves as receiving and passing on what had been received from the Apostles themselves, as recorded in the canonical Gospels. As Clement put it:

42:1 The Apostles received for us the gospel from our Lord Jesus Christ; our Lord Jesus Christ received it from God.

42:2 Christ, therefore, was sent out from God, and the Apostles from Christ; and both these things were done in good order, according to the will of God.

42:3 They, therefore, having received the promises, having been fully persuaded by the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, and having been confirmed by the word of God, with the full persuasion of the Holy Spirit, went forth preaching the good tidings that the kingdom of God was at hand.

42:4 Preaching, therefore, through the countries and cities, they appointed their firstfruits to be bishops and deacons over such as should believe, after they had proved them in the Spirit.

42:5 And this they did in no new way, for in truth it had in long past time been written concerning bishops and deacons; for the scripture, in a certain place, saith in this wise: I will establish their bishops in righteousness, and their deacons in faith.

As Irenaeus put it:

WE have learned from none others the plan of our salvation, than from those through whom the Gospel has come down to us, which they did at one time proclaim in public, and, at a later period, by the will of God, handed down to us in the Scriptures, to be the ground and pillar of our faith. 

These men were not part of some “orthodox” conspiracy designed to impose order on “diversity:, they were the stewards the the Gospel message which they had the duty to protect and proclaim. It is not surprising that this “rule of faith” became the origin of the Nicere Creed.

That should not be taken to mean that there were not theological developments along the way, the Trinity is one example of such a development, but it does mean that, as Larry Hurtado put it:

Well before the influence of Constantine and the councils of bishops in the fourth century and thereafter, it was clear that proto-orthodox Christianity was ascendant, and represented the emergent mainstream. Proto-orthodox devotion to Jesus of the seond century constitutes the pattern of belief and practiced that shaped Christian tradition thereafter. [L.W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity].

I would be tempted to tweak that a little after what has been outlined here and to say that the Creeds approved by the Church Fathers, like the Canon they confirmed, served as a theological continuation of inherited orthodoxy, and as its chief means of transmitting what had been inherited.

None of that is to take away from the fierce debates over heresy and the part they played in focussing the mind of the Church on subjects such as the Trinity and Christology, but it is to say that it was the Church which preserved and transmitted what it had received from the Apostles.

My thanks to those of you who have borne with me thus far, and to those who have commented. The attempt to summarise such a vast topic inevitably produces simplifications, but I hope I have reflected what I have read. I am conscious that the sources here are Western in the main, and in later posts I hope to explore other examples of the tradition.

 

Choosing Scripture (1) Canon

28 Tuesday Jul 2020

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How do we know what is “Scripture”? Despite the ingenious answer of our long-time commentator, Bosco, that “it’s in the contents page,” that is not the right answer. Indeed, one question we need to pose at the start is whether the Evangelists knew that they were writing “Scripture”? Even before that we need to ask how we know who wrote the Gospels? Since the answer in both cases is “the Church” we also need to know what that means? This is not just to combat the anti-Catholic gut instinct which recoils from the idea, but also to combat the conspiracy theorists who claim that we owe the Bible to some nefarious work under the Emperor Constantine.

The first thing to note here is that when the Evangelists wrote they knew what they meant by “scripture”, it was what we call the Old Testament. The Law, the Prophets and the Writings, the three divisions of the Hebrew Bible were at the heart of Jewish culture and all Jews would have been versed in them. We know that about 85 A.D. there was a council at Jamnia which decided what books were canonical, but most scholars agree that simply ratified long practice – something which, as we shall see, was true of what we call the New Testament too.

The first part of Jewish Scripture, the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testment were substantially complerte by the fifth century B.C., but may date back even earlier. The Prophets and the Writings date back to about 165 B.C. As the Jewish author Josephus, writing in the first century AD. put it: “We do not possess  myriads of inconsistent books, conflicting with each other, our books, those which are justly accredited, are but two and twenty.” At Jamnia there was a pruning process which excluded writings classed .as apochrypha. There were two common forms of Scripture.

Some time in the third century BC. the large Jewish population in Alexandria produced what we call the Septuagint, that was a Greek translation of the Jewish Scriptures designed to meet the need of the already numerous diaspora. The original Septuagint included only the Books of the Law, the rest of the Old Testament was translated by the early Christians as a service to those coming to the Faith.

The Jews regarded these books as inspired by God and the list of books was seen as a rule of faith – the Greek kanon means a measuring rod or a rule. It was not until the fourth century AD. that the word came to be used to describe the list of Christian books which contained the rule of faith. To be clear, the Canon reflected a consensus on the books already in circulation in the early Church, and as at Jamnia, the Canon reflected the choices made by that Church. There was no grand Council at which learned men argued the case for book x or book y, there was no choice between the “Gospel of Thomas” and the “Gospel of Mark” at which the latter was accepted and the former rejected; what they was instead was a recognition of what the early Church considered to be the Canon, or the rule of faith which summed up Christian teaching. That is a vital point to bear in mind. What we call the New Testment did for Christians what the Old Testament did for the Jewsm which is to act as a summary of Christian teaching; the Old Testament books had also been accepted for the same reason, they were vital to understanding what one writer called “the memoirs of the Apostles.”

It is, as so often, St Paul, in the earliest of the writings which comprise the Canon, who sets out its purpose. Writing to the Colossiansas early as thirty years after the crucifixion, he tells them that Jesus is “the image of the God we cannot see”, the “one by whom all things were made” and for whom they were created. He tells the Corinthians that they are the “body of Christ,” and that, as he told the Colossians, Jesus is the Head of that Church: “For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead [f]bodily; 10 and you are complete in Him, who is the head of all [g]principality and power.” Even earlier, in the 50s, Paul had told the Philippians that:

Christ Jesus, 6 who, being in the form of God, did not consider it [b]robbery to be equal with God, 7 but [c]made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross. 9 Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, 11 and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

What a huge claim! But that is what the early Christians believed, it was not added later by others, it was there from the start. We see it in St Mark’s opening words: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. St Matthew is at pains to point out in his first chapter that Jesus’ name means “God with us.” We see the same in Luke and John. This was the dinstinctive Christian message – all authority on Heaven and Earth had been given to Jesus – He is Lord and God. That being so, the followers of Jesus saw His words as Scripture and naturally did what the Jews had done with the Old Testament, they wrote down His teachings. It has been plausibly argued that Paul’s first letter to Timothy is the first sign that Christian writings could be considered Scripture.

The idea of the Canon was there from the start in the form of what we call the Old Testament, and such was the impact of the Risen Christ that His early followers accorded the same status to the writings of the Apostles – and it is to that we turn next.

Did You Know?

22 Wednesday Jul 2020

Posted by in Anglicanism, Reading the BIble, st cyril of alexandria

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A word of explanation from Neo. For some months, as many of you know, at NEO, I have had a new co-blogger. Audre Meyers. She brings something to my blog that it has missed since Jessica left, a lighter touch, perhaps a woman’s touch, and a bit of wandering off the reservation, which is needed.

The other day, she sent me a very pleasing draft, about a lesson from her Bible study group led by her priest. She is a Continuing Anglican, essentially an American Amglo-Catholic, and it shows. Her draft recalled something to me, which took some time to place. This is it. In it, she strikes many of the same notes that Jessica did in her best posts. Well, at least one of my commenters has remarked that she thought Audre was Jessica in disguise. She’s not but they do share an outlook and a style which I find very refreshing.

In any case, as I read her draft, I came to the conclusion that it belongs here, not on NEO. NEO too, has an underlying Christian ethos, but is far more political, and likely will continue as such at least until the election. Audre finds this collection of curmudgeons intimidating (I can’t imagine why!) something about the way we speak our minds clearly and robustly, I think. But I think we all also listen to that still small voice in our hearts and souls. That’s where I think Audre’s viewpoint comes from.

Eventually, I convinced her to let me post it here as sort of a guest post. So be nice to her, she’s my friend as well as co-blogger. Here’s Audre!

I’ve read my Bible front to back many times throughout the years. While I’m not good at quoting chapter and verse numbers, my understanding of what I’ve read is pretty sound. So imagine my surprise at Bible study yesterday when our priest gave a new insight into what we were reading in the Book of John.

The chapter is 3 and the verse is 30. “He must increase and I must decrease” (KJV)

This is obviously John the Baptist explaining to his followers, his disciples, that Jesus is the Man and he, John, just the herald; that he will be eclipsed by Jesus and that Jesus is the One to follow. Simple. Read it quick and move on. But what our priest suggested brought me to a screeching halt. He said he is impressed with John’s great humility. Humility? Our priest, Fr. Ellis, pointed out that John was very popular and had a fairly large following; he was, in effect, telling his followers that they must now follow Jesus and he himself was not the one they should be looking to. I hadn’t thought of the common, very human trait of ‘pride’ – there had to have been, within John, a sense of being important and noteworthy. Here he was, the momentary Elvis and all that it implies, saying,  “I’m not going to sing anymore because you need to listen to Roy Orbison whose voice is way beyond that of mine.” Who does that sort of thing? Who walks away from fame? A very, very humble soul.

But here’s the concept that rocked my boat. Fr. Ellis stated that the verse applies to us. Head snap. What? The verse applies to us today and forever. We are to decrease and Jesus is to increase. How is that so? We are so self-centric; life is, after all, all about us. Individually. What I want, what I need, what I like, what I think, what I have. The ‘great’ imperative. Me. We lament that our prayers aren’t answered, that things aren’t going our way, that we want change and we want it now. But He can only act in our lives when we give Him room. We believe we are the masters and captains of our lives and as such, we blunder, fail, hurt ourselves, hurt others, have a skewed perspective of the world around us. Just take a look at the world if you don’t believe me.

Things ‘come right’ when we decease. When we start to chip away at the ‘me’ and start to open up to Him. If we decrease, we open up space for Him to come in and fill us with all the love of the Father and all the aid and comfort of the Holy Spirit and a greater, deeper, sustaining relationship with Jesus.

So verse 30 applies to me – to us. I MUST (not a random word choice, it’s highlighted in the KJV by the format of the word)

I MUST decrease and He MUST increase.

Verse 30 is an instruction.

As St. Cyril said:
“If the poison of pride is swelling up in you, turn to the Eucharist; and that Bread, Which is your God humbling and disguising Himself, will teach you humility.”

Unclean lips: Sunday reflection

10 Sunday Feb 2019

Posted by in Bible, Faith, Reading the BIble

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Isaiah 6:1-8; 1 Cor 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11

Isaiah, like SS, Peter and Paul, knows he is not worthy. “Who, me Lord?” Paul is the “least” of the Apostles, while Peter is sceptical of Jesus’ advice to go back out and cast his nets in the deep. He knew himself to be a “sinful man.” And of course he was right.

Despite Jesus’ trust in him, when he was most needed in Gethsemane he was asleep, and later he lied about even knowing Jesus. In a conscious echo of that first calling, Jesus once more advises Peter about his fishing, and it is that which makes him realise to whom he is speaking. Thrice the Lord asks Peter if he loves him, and thrice Peter affirms it; ransomed, healed, restored forgiven, the Apostle is charged with the care of the sheep. He no longer protests he is not worthy. Why is that?

It is certainly not because Peter feels any more worthy than he had had the beginning; indeed if anything Peter knew he had not lived up to the promises he had made. The contrast here with Judas Iscariot is worth noting.

Peter and Judas both betrayed Christ. Judas despaired of the evil deed he had done and, in despair, hanged himself. He could not forgive himself and he did not believe that forgiveness could be had. His pride told him that there was no remedy for his sin; so he destroyed himself, throwing back to God the gift he had been given. He had not been there when Jesus had prayed to the Father for forgiveness for those who “knew not what they do.” Not had Peter. But there was a critical difference.

Peter, like Isaiah and Paul, had the humility not to let his own pride come between him and forgiveness. We have all sinned, not one of us has reached perfection. How easy it is to hide and evade, and even lie, when we have gone wrong and done bad things and then, when we are found out, to despair. It is as though by going to the very depth of despair we make some sort of amend. But that is to judge as men do, and as with Judas, it can be to put a barrier up to the actions of God’s grace.

There is one odd thing about love; you cannot ever deserve it. Even at the secular, physical level, one cannot make the object of one’s love, love you. One can hope that by paying attention to the beloved, one might receive favourable notice, but one cannot compel or deserve love. Love, like God’s grace, is uncovenanted. God’s love is freely available to us; we did not love Him first, He loved us from the beginning.

Christ came to show us what love will do. He died for us, though we are sinners. A man might die for his family or his friends, or even for a cause. But few if any of us die for our enemies, let along for those whom we do not know. Christ did that because He is God, and we see in His atoning sacrifice a glimpse of the Glory of God; for me He did that?

Peter faced the music, so did Isaiah. Sometimes when we have gone wrong, it is easier ti run away, to take the blames, to become the sacrificial lamb. How much harder it is to face the music and to carry on living.

We are not told what Peter did after the crucifixion, just that he ended up back where he had begun, working the family fishing boats, a sadder if not a wiser man. Perhaps he reflected that it would have been better for all if Jesus had listened to him when he had said he was a sinful man? But, of course, Jesus had listened. He who, alone, knows the devices and desires of our own hearts, knew that Peter had the ability to grow spiritually, if only he would learn humility. Well, that he did.

Peter remained, like us, deeply flawed. He thought that it would be fine to eat non-kosher with Gentiles and did not see why the Jewish dietary laws should apply to all followers of Jesus. But when James and the Church in Jerusalem took a dim view of that, Peter backed away and supported them. It was left to Paul to call Peter out and contradict him. Peter let that happen. He had indeed learnt humility, if not always wisdom.

We are all of us sinners. The moment one stops knowing that, then the way os open to all sorts of sins which come from pride. But today’s Bible passages remind us  that sin can have its own pride, and that if our guilt makes us think we are beyond redemption and God’s love, then we need to think again. We have unclean lips and we are a stiff-necked and sinful people. But God loves us, and if we will but receive the message His Son brought to us about love, then all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.