For church Sunday morning, I attended the Missouri Synod Lutheran
church, its Sunday School class on patristic interpretations of the
Gospel of John, and the “Word of Faith” church.
Here is my description of each, based on what stands out in my mind
right now. Occasionally, I will include personal commentary and
reflection.
A. The church has been using road and street signs to convey themes
of Lent. It used the “Stop” sign a week or so ago in discussing
repentance. This Sunday, it used a “Yield” sign. The pastor was
complaining about his struggles with traffic, and how drivers, including
himself, are not too interested in yielding to other drivers when they
are on the road. The pastor referred to Philippians 2:3, which states,
“Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of
mind let each esteem others better than themselves” (KJV). The pastor
criticized Facebook memes and posts that denigrate other people, for
political reasons or to lambaste other people’s parenting. The pastor
inquired if we are treating others as equal to ourselves when we do
that, let alone as better than ourselves.
Yielding to others is a basic Christian principle, one that was in
the forefront of my mind when I first became a Christian, but one of
which I frequently lose sight. I think that it is a valuable principle,
albeit one that can be misused. I recall Steven Covey’s principle,
“Think Win-Win,” which is about both parties arriving at a solution that
is beneficial and satisfactory to both of them, as opposed to one party
voluntarily losing and allowing the other to win. “Think Win-Win”
sounds reasonable to me. Moreover, if I am competing with somebody for a
job, as will probably often be the case in this day and age, of course I
will take the job if it is offered to me, rather than selflessly giving
it up for the benefit of another competitor. I will need the money,
like anyone else. Still, at times, there is a place for stepping aside
for the benefit of others. While this can take the form of being a
passive doormat, it can also be an exemplification of inner strength: a
person is strong enough not to get his or her own way, for the person
receives strength and identity, not from consistently winning, but from
Christ’s love.
B. The Sunday School class on patristic interpretations of the
Gospel of John got into a variety of issues, but I will highlight two.
First, once again, there is the issue of Jesus’ divine and human
nature. In John 11, Jesus weeps and his soul is troubled after his
friend Lazarus has died. Church fathers had issues with this, for did
not Jesus have a divine nature, and is not the divine nature free of
troubles and passions? Augustine essentially said that Jesus was able
to control when he was sad and wept, as opposed to being dominated by
his passions. Augustine also said that Jesus could control when he was
sleepy and hungry. I thought of the City of God, in which
Augustine stated that, prior to the Fall, Adam and Eve had sex, but Adam
was able to control when he had sexual desire, as opposed to being a
slave to concupiscence, which he was after the Fall.
Someone in the class said that such a view depicted Jesus’ human
nature as if it is an automaton, as Jesus chooses to turn the “sad”
lever when he decides to become sad. He expressed doubt that this would
be consistent with Jesus being truly human. We, after all, do not
decide when we become sad, or hungry, or sleepy: these things happen to
us. (This is not an absolute statement: if we fast, we will become
hungry; if we deprive ourselves of sleep; we will become sleepy. But
these things inevitably happen to us at some point, apart from our
choice.)
Some of the Fathers, incidentally, seemed to depict Jesus’ flesh as
rather vulnerable, and yet Jesus’ divine nature was able to discipline
it.
Second, the teacher was discussing the patronage system in the
ancient Roman empire. People had patrons, and people had clients. Even
a slave could have clients: a slave could do a favor for someone, and
that other person would be in the slave’s debt. The teacher said that
the favor bestowed by the patron was called grace, whereas the reception
of the favor, and the accompanying loyalty, allegiance, and obligation
to the patron, was called faith. The teacher suggested that this was
the way to understand Paul’s view of grace and faith: faith is not mere
intellectual assent to Christianity but is allegiance, loyalty, and
faithfulness to Christ.
Someone in the class raised a question. He said that he has
struggled with Jesus’ statements in the synoptic Gospels that people’s
faith has made them well. Was not Jesus’ power what made them well, as
opposed to their faith? The teacher tried to tie this with the
patron-client relationship: Jesus as patron was doing favors for people,
and people, in allegiance to Jesus, received them. There may be
something to this. I had long assumed that the faith that Jesus praises
in the synoptic Gospels is belief that Jesus, or God through Jesus,
would or could perform a miracle or an act of healing. I do not see
where allegiance or loyalty would fit into that, though, perhaps,
another definition of faith would: trust in God. But could allegiance
or loyalty fit into the equation, somehow: people, by accepting Jesus’
miracle, were not simply being healed, but they were declaring their
allegiance towards the Kingdom that Jesus was bringing, which included
healing?
C. At the “Word of Faith” church, the pastor contrasted Nicodemus in John 3 with the Samaritan woman in John 4.
The pastor had an interesting interpretation of John 3, which I will
neither endorse nor criticize, only present. According to the pastor,
Nicodemus came to Jesus by night, and the occurrence of the meeting by
night indicated that Nicodemus had a sinister political purpose, as
“night” usually accompanies something bad in the Gospel of John (i.e.,
John 9:4; 11:10; 13:30; 21:3). Nicodemus, speaking for the Sanhedrin,
wanted to bring Jesus under the Sanhedrin’s control; the Sanhedrin did
not care for John the Baptist, who was acting outside of its control.
Nicodemus was a rabbi, and he knew that Jesus was a rabbi. Nicodemus
wanted to speak to Jesus, rabbi to rabbi.
But Jesus would have nothing of it. Jesus told Nicodemus that he
must be born again. When Jesus tells Nicodemus in John 3:5 that he must
be born of water and of Spirit, he was essentially telling Nicodemus to
go to the Jordan river, be baptized by John the Baptist (whom Nicodemus
and the Sanhedrin scorned), and repent. And, according to the pastor,
Nicodemus was familiar, on some level, with what Jesus was talking
about: Nicodemus was aware of such passages as Ezekiel 36:25-27, which
includes the eschatological promises that God will sprinkle clean water
on the Israelites and put God’s Spirit within them. But Nicodemus was
not willing to play ball: he liked his power and thought he was
righteous already. He was resistant to Jesus’ Kingdom and what God
wanted to do with him and with Israel.
Jesus had two responses to Nicodemus. First, to Nicodemus’ desire to
speak with Jesus rabbi to rabbi, Jesus retorted that the two of them
were on different planes: Jesus’ plane was spiritual, whereas Nicodemus’
plane was limited. They could not speak to each other rabbi to rabbi,
as if they were on the same plane. Second, in John 3:14, Jesus referred
to the story of the uplifted bronze serpent in Numbers 21. The
Israelites are complaining, so God sends poisonous serpents to bite
them. Moses creates a bronze serpent, and the Israelites are to look to
that and be healed. Jesus compared himself to that bronze serpent.
The pastor said that complaining and grumbling bring curses upon us.
According to the pastor, Nicodemus was doing so by resisting God’s
Kingdom through Jesus, and what God wanted to do in his life. But Jesus
was offering a solution: look to Jesus and be healed.
In terms of the contrast between Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman,
the pastor suggested that there was a difference in Jesus’ approach to
the two. Nicodemus wanted to negotiate with Jesus and bring Jesus down
to his level, and Jesus said no. But Jesus was willing to meet the
Samaritan woman, who was sinful and knew she was sinful, where she was.
Nicodemus, at least in John 3, was self-righteous, whereas the
Samaritan woman knew she was a sinner. (By the way, the book, Vindicating the Vixens, contains an essay that disputes the idea that the Samaritan woman was promiscuous.)
I’ll stop here.