Interpretation. A Journal of Bible and Theology Jan 2011

In This Issue

Volume 65 Number 1 January 2011

Liturgy and Easter

3

EDITORIAL

5

THE SEASON OF EASTER: IMAGINATIVE FIGURINGS FOR THE BODY OF CHRIST • CLA8UDIO CARVALHAES & PAUL GALBREATH The development of Easter as a fifty-day season in the church year was an extended historical process that allowed major theological themes to find their place as a part of this central celebration in the life of the church. Careful attention to the embodiment of these themes in our Easter celebration can foster the work of renewal in our own diverse communities of faith.

18

THE SOUND OF SILENCE: INTERPRETING MARK 16:1–8 THROUGH THE CENTURIES • CHRISTINE E. JOYNES The women’s silence in response to the message of the “young man” at the tomb is a feature found only in Mark. Its omission by Matthew and Luke suggests that they found this element in the narrative problematic. Yet Mark’s text has played a significant role in the Easter liturgy of the ancient church and beyond. The reception history of the narrative reveals both harmonization and discord.

30

RESURRECTION SOUNDS: WHEN MUSIC BEARS THE WORD • THOMAS H. TROEGER At Easter, hymns and sacred arias can work together with Scripture texts to proclaim in fresh ways that Christ is risen. If we come with attentiveness to focus upon the words, phrases, meter, and melody, we can experience new depths, wonders, and glories.

44

THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS IN ART • ULRICH LUZ In the New Testament, the resurrection of Jesus is not described as a visible event, and for this reason, the resurrection was not represented directly in visual arts for about one thousand years. Direct representations of the resurrection as an event appeared only after 1000 C.E. They were concrete, and they objectivized and historicized the resurrection in a problematical way.

56

EASTER PREACHING • DAVID G. BUTTRICK Preachers are faced with two unresolved issues at Easter: 1) Are the resurrection stories fact or legend? and 2) What does Paul mean by a spiritual body? Is he supposing something different from the stories? What is the Easter message we are called to preach?

Major Book Reviews

BETWEEN TEXT & SERMON 70

Psalm 31:1–5, 15–16

80

– W. Dennis Tucker, Jr. 72

Matthew 28:1–10

Accompany Them with Singing: The Christian Funeral by Thomas G. Long – Ronald P. Byars

84

– E. Carson Brisson

Philippians and Philemon: A Commentary by Charles B. Cousar – Dean Flemming

76

1 Peter 4:1–8 – Paul J. Achtemeier

88

John Calvin: A Pilgrim’s Life by Herman J. Selderhuis – Elsie McKee

90

Short Book Reviews and Notes

O F F I C E S TA F F

DEBRA REAGAN Managing Editor WILLA JACOB Subscription Manager NAROLA AO MCFAYDEN Editorial Fellow & Office Assistant

INDEXED BY

PUBLISHER

EDITORIAL OFFICE SUBSCRIPTIONS TOLL-FREE (U.S.) WEBSITE E-MAIL

ADVERTISING

PRINTING OFFICE

Academic Abstractions Arts & Humanities Citation Index Arts & Humanities Search ATLA Religion Database Book Review Index Current Contents/Arts and Humanities Guide to Social Science and Religion in Periodical Literature Humanities Index Index of Articles on Jewish Studies Index to Book Reviews in Religion International Bibliography of Book Reviews of Scholarly Literature on the Humanities and Social Sciences International Bibliography of Periodical Literature on the Humanities and Social Sciences Internationale Zeitschriftenschau für Bibelwissenschaft und Grenzgebiete New Testament Abstracts Old Testament Abstracts Theologische Literaturzeitung Union Presbyterian Seminary 3401 Brook Road Richmond, Virginia 23227 (804) 278-4296 (804) 278-4297 (800) 229-2990 ext. 297 www.interpretation.org [email protected] Address advertising correspondence to: Charles A Roth Jr Spire Advertising P.O. Box 635 Yarmouth, ME 04096-0635 mobile: 516-729-3509 fax: 914-470-0483 [email protected]

Carter Printing Co. 2007 N. Hamilton Street Richmond, Virginia 23230

Abbreviations used in Interpretation can be found in The SBL Handbook of Style (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1999). Subscriptions: U.S.

Copyright 2011, by Union Presbyterian Seminary. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America.

1 Year

29.00

$

2 Years

$

3 Years

$

Single copies

Non-U.S. U.S. Library Non-U.S.Library 40.00

$

48.00 91.00

$

112.00

$

$

52.00

$

74.00

$

70.00

$

97.00

$

8.00

$

10.50

$

$

13.50

$

55.00

104.00 128.00 $

15.00

Interpretation (ISSN 0020-9643) is published (January, April, July and October) by Union Theological Seminary–Presbyterian School of Christian Education. 3401 Brook Road, Richmond, Virginia 23227. Periodicals postage paid at Richmond, Virginia. Postmaster: Send address changes to Interpretation, 3401 Brook Road, Richmond, Virginia 23227. RETURN POSTAGE GUARANTEED.

Interpretation 3

Editorial This Easter issue continues our series exploring the resources for preaching and teaching during the church year (previous issues have been “Advent,” Vol. 62, no. 4, and “Lent,” Vol. 64, no. 1). We will complete the series with an issue devoted to “Pentecost and Trinity Sunday” in January, 2012, and “Ordinary Time” in April, 2013. Cla8udio Carvalhaes and Paul Galbreath combine a survey of the biblical and historical development of the liturgical calendar with examples of the diverse ways in which Easter’s central theological themes are embodied in congregational life in the United States, Mexico, and Guatemala. These “imaginative figurings” encourage the embodiment of a central Easter affirmation: “Creation is reclaimed, our past is redone, our present is firmly grasped, and our future holds a promise.” Mark 16:1–8, with its emphasis on the women’s silence at the empty tomb, may seem an odd resource for Easter’s joyful affirmations, but as Christine Joynes demonstrates, this text has played a significant role in both the ancient and modern church. Easter plays (e.g., Visitatio sepulchri), musical compositions (e.g., Bach’s Cantata BWV 31), and artistic depictions (e.g., the eleventh-century reliquary cover from St-Denis, Paris) invited communities not only to read Mark’s text, but also to participate in, hear, and visualize the resurrection event. Joynes notes that the sound of silence from the women who came to the tomb to anoint Jesus “has generated much noise.” Thomas Troeger reminds us that Easter is one of the high holy days “when music bears the word more than the preaching and the prayers.” The present tense verbs in the Easter hymn, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” for example, affirm that Christ “is risen at the very moment of its singing and that here and now the world of grief and despair is broken open again and again.” Both the lyrics and the melodies of such hymns “rescue us from one of the church’s chief afflictions: our propensity to turn faith into archaeology.” Jesus’ resurrection in the New Testament, Ulrich Luz notes, is “not a visible event happening in space and time so that it could be described by neutral witnesses.” By 1000 C.E., however, artists began to use symbols for the resurrection (e.g., the “Invincible Cross,” the eagle, and the phoenix). During the Middle Ages, more symbolic representations began to appear in the illustrations of liturgical works and gradually in larger paintings (e.g., Grünewald, El Greco, and Rembrandt). Modern religious art such as we feature on this issue’s cover has returned to more abstract, non-concrete representations of the resurrection. Luz delineates how works of art can be used effectively in worship to enable the faithful to see, even touch, the “re-present-ation” of the Easter message. Many will resonate with David Buttrick’s observation that “Easter is a tough day for preachers.” Is there any historical basis for the resurrection texts? What does Paul mean by a spiritual body (1 Cor 15:44)? Confronted by such questions, preachers must become “homiletic theologians.” They attempt to translate ancient texts into contemporary meaning sharpened by the church’s theological discussions, in the hope that “half-formed” understandings will take root in congregational consciousness. As Buttrick says, “Talk about a demanding job description.”

4 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Margins 2: Women of the New Testament and Their Afterlives (Sheffield Phoenix, 2009).

The Three Marys Bringing an Ointment to Christ’s Tomb Discover that It Is Open, Cristoforo De Predis (1440–1486), c.126v. Location: Biblioteca Reale, Turin, Italy. Photo Credit: Alinari / Art Resource, N.Y.

CONTRIBUTORS PAUL GALBREATH is Professor of Worship and Preaching at Union Presbyterian Seminary. He is an ordained Presbyterian minister and served as pastor for ten years in congregations in the Pacific Northwest. Galbreath’s research and writing specialize in the area of sacramental ethics, or the way that worship and the sacraments relate to our daily lives. He is the author of Leading from the Table (Alban Institute, 2008) and Leading through the Water (Alban Institute, forthcoming). CLA8UDIO CARVALHAES is Assistant Professor of Worship and Preaching at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary. From Brazil, he received his Ph.D. in Worship and Theology at Union Theological Seminary. Carvalhaes is interested in interdisciplinary approaches to worship and theology. He just published “Borders, Globalization and Eucharistic Hospitality,” in Dialog: A Journal of Theology 49:1 (Spring, 2010), and with Nancy Cardoso Pereira, “God’s Petticoat and Capitalism—Full Fashion,” in Dancing Theology in Fetish Boots: Essays in Honour of Marcella Althaus-Reid (SCM Press, 2010). CHRISTINE E. JOYNES is Director of the Centre for Reception History of the Bible at the University of Oxford. One of her current research interests is the reception history of Mark’s Gospel, and she is presently writing the Blackwell Bible Commentary, Mark’s Gospel Through the Centuries. Joynes has written a number of articles exploring the impact of the Bible on art, music, and literature. Most recently, she edited (with Christopher Rowland) From the

THOMAS H. TROEGER is Lantz Professor of Christian Communication at Yale Divinity School. He has written twenty books in the fields of preaching, poetry, hymnody, and worship. Troeger’s most recent publications are Wonder Reborn: Creating Sermons on Hymns, Music, and Poetry (Oxford University Press, 2010) and God, You Made All Things for Singing: Hymn Texts, Anthems, and Poems for a New Millennium (Oxford University Press, 2009). A flutist and a poet whose work appears in many hymnals and anthem settings, Troeger is both an Episcopal priest and Presbyterian minister. ULRICH LUZ is New Testament professor emeritus for the Faculty of Theology at the University of Bern, Switzerland. He is the author of the three-volume Hermeneia commentary on Matthew (Fortress, 2001–2007). Among Luz’s other books are Unity of the Church in the New Testament and Today (with Lukas Vischer and Christian Link, Eerdmans, 2010), Encountering Jesus and Buddha: Their Lives and Teachings (with Axel Michaels, Fortress, 2006), Matthew in History: Interpretation, Influence, and Effects (Fortress, 2009), and Studies in Matthew (Eerdmans, 2005). Luz is also editor of the ninevolume unpublished works of Albert Schweitzer, Werke aus dem Nachlass, (1995–2006). He is an ordained minister of the Swiss Reformed (Presbyterian) Church. DAVID G. BUTTRICK is Emeritus Professor of Homiletics and Liturgies at Vanderbilt Divinity School. Previously, he taught at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Lexington Theological Seminary, and Iliff School of Theology, among others. Buttrick’s many books include Speaking Parables (Westminster John Knox, 2010), Speaking Conflict: Stories of a Controversial Jesus (Westminster John Knox, 2007), Speaking Jesus: Homiletic Theology and the Sermon on the Mount (Westminster John Knox, 2002), and Mystery and the Passion: A Homiletic Reading of the Gospel (Wipf & Stock, 2002).

The Season of Easter: Imaginative Figurings for the Body of Christ CLA&UDIO CARVALHAES Assistant Professor for Worship and Preaching Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary PAUL GALBREATH Professor of Worship and Preaching Union Presbyterian Seminary The development of Easter as a fifty-day season in the church year was an extended historical process that allowed major theological themes to find their place as a part of this central celebration in the life of the church. Careful attention to the embodiment of these themes in our Easter celebration can foster the work of renewal in our own diverse communities of faith.

E

aster Sunday: The sanctuary is filling up while the brass section is warming up. The minister walks into the sanctuary to check on things one last time. A pitcher of warm water sits by the half-filled font—ready for the baptism of three infants and two adults.

The table is set with bread and wine. The Bible is marked and the sermon is ready to be preached. The minister is excited and weary from the services during the last three days— Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil. He nods to the young man sitting in the second pew who was baptized last night. As he looks around the sanctuary, he recognizes many of the Easter Sunday visitors dressed in their new clothes. He has not seen many of them since the Christmas Eve service. He knows that for some of them, the service fills the time slot between the morning Easter egg hunt and the special brunch at the tennis club. As he looks around the sanctuary, he wishes that the celebration of Easter would be more than a social, cultural observance. He longs for the good news of the resurrection of Christ’s body to take root in this sanctuary. What will it take for the church to reclaim the Easter story and to live in its light? Are there clues from the history of the church and from the work of liturgical scholars that can guide us to a more lasting and robust celebration of Easter that will nurture our Christian lives? In this article, we offer biblical and historical research on the development of the liturgical calendar and the lectionary as a basis for imagining how diverse congregations in vastly different locations can reclaim the celebration of Easter as a season that shapes our faith.

6 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS From its inception, the celebration of Easter was connected to the Passover calendar and Jewish seder practices. In a review of first-century C.E. seder rituals, Lawrence Hoffman underscores the fluidity of practices that coexisted at the time. Hoffman characterizes the seder as “sacred theater” and outlines the rudimentary elements that were needed for the celebration: a table with food; open-ended questions to prompt conversation; a general (but not necessarily textual) rendition of Exod 12; and a time of praising God, usually in the form of psalms.1 Furthermore, Hoffman argues that Greco-Roman meal practice in the symposium provided a venue that gave shape to the seder, which maintained an early emphasis on a shared meal and spontaneous conversation. Such a pattern served as a liturgical template for the development of Easter rituals while imbedding them in practices that provided other layers of meanings. The nature of early Christian celebrations of Easter has been characterized as unitive due to the association of resurrection with the broader account of Jesus’ incarnation, life, and death. Kenneth Stevenson suggests that, “It would never have occurred to Christians living then to have had a Holy Week at all. For them it was sufficient to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus in one fell swoop.”2 While scholars frequently use the language of the unitive nature of Easter to emphasize the way that it was inextricably connected to other services, this should not imply a uniformity to the assemblies’ gatherings. Hence, development of Easter practices can be seen as a complex merging of elements of the Greco-Roman banquet, Jewish seder practices, and the shared memories of Jesus’ final days in Jerusalem. Thus, even the language of Easter itself, known as pascha, “passing through,” began to carry a double memory of the Exod 12 text of the Israelites’ passing through the Red Sea as well as the story of Jesus’ passing from death to new life. Through associative, typological, and figurative readings of Hebrew Scripture, Christian communities developed interpretations and ritual actions that further distinguished the Christian meal practices from those of their neighbors. Karl Gerlach demonstrates how homiletical reflection on Exod 12 gave rise to narrative reinterpretation and ritualization within the context of a Christian assembly. Gerlach concludes, “As Christian authors view Exodus 12 as a narrative frame for stories about Christ and the Church, the paschal night provides a liturgical space for these stories to be told.”3 Such a shift in ritual interpretation is accompanied by a growing controversy over the appro1 Lawrence Hoffman, “The Passover Meal in Jewish Tradition,” in Passover and Easter: Origin and History to Modern Times (ed. Paul Bradshaw and Lawrence Hoffman; Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 13. 2 Kenneth Stevenson, Jerusalem Revisited: The Liturgical Meaning of Holy Week (Washington, D. C.: Pastoral Press, 1988), 5. 3 Karl Gerlach, The Antenicene Pascha (Leuven, Belgium: Peeters, 1998), 402. To cite but one example of this development, consider this excerpt from the paschal homily of Melito of Sardis from the late second century:

The scripture from the Hebrew Exodus has been read And the words of the mystery have been plainly stated, How the sheep (probation) is sacrificed And how the People is saved And how pharaoh is scourged through the mystery. Understand, therefore, beloved, How it is new and old, Eternal and temporary, Perishable and imperishable, Mortal and immortal, this mystery of the Pascha . . . (cited in Gerlach, 62)

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 7

priate time for this celebration. For some Christian communities, the connection of the events of Holy Week to the celebrations of Passover (and their subsequent reinterpretation) required that the primary gathering coincide with the Jewish liturgical calendar that fixed the date as Nissan 14/ 15 (known as Quartodecimans because of their allegiance to meeting on the 14th day of Nissan). Over time, other communities (for a variety of reasons) recognized the Sunday following Nissan 14/15 as particularly appropriate for the emphasis on Christ’s resurrection that had been a central theological rationale of the Sunday weekly assembly by Christians. The intense struggle over the differing dates for the celebration of Easter led Constantine to issue a decree directing churches to observe Easter on the same date. J. Gordon Davies describes the liturgical developments around the celebration of Holy Week as characterized by a move from the symbolic to that of historical commemoration. The goal was to provide a model of the life of Christ that was accessible to the burgeoning numbers of Christians who joined the church in the post-Constantinian time.4 According to Davies, the developments around the celebration of liturgical time in the fourth century served the primary purpose of providing a ritual narrative that invited participants to walk into these accounts. A closer examination of the accounts of these celebrations suggests a more nuanced approach. While fourthcentury celebrations of Holy Week in Jerusalem did make use of certain geographical locations (e.g., the Mount of Olives and Golgotha), other locations were surprisingly ignored. Paul Bradshaw notes that “no attempt was made to locate the Eucharistic celebrations on Holy Thursday at the supposed site of the Last Supper.”5 Stevenson refers to this development as “rememorative.” History and symbolism are blended together in ways that make the rituals and narratives accessible to participants.6 In the process, Easter began to take on its own emphasis. Accompanying this transition is the growing tendency to associate baptism with Easter. At the end of the second century, Tertullian recommended Easter as a primary time for baptisms to occur. The ritual actions themselves provide a reframing and reinterpretation of biblical texts. A service that places the reading of Exod 12 alongside baptism suggests links between the two that otherwise might go unnoticed. In his examination of homilies from ancient Syria, Gerlach notes the preferred status of baptismal typology in spite of attempts to develop eucharistic themes.7 Increasingly, the celebration of a collection of unitive events around Jesus’ death and resurrection that were marked in widely diverse ways in early Christian communities began to receive separate attention and was associated with particular occasions and designated services. Over time, the increasing frequency of baptism as part of the celebration of Easter shaped Lent as a time of intense preparation for those who were presented as baptismal candidates. In some parts of the church where catechumens prepared for two to three years, the time leading up

4

J. Gordon Davies, Holy Week: A Short History (Richmond: John Knox, 1963), 12–17. Paul Bradhaw, “Easter in Christian Tradition,” in Passover and Easter: Origin and History to Modern Times, 3. Stevenson, Jerusalem Revisited, 9. 7 Gerlach, The Antenicene Pascha, 405ff. 5 6

8 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

to their baptisms brought a heightened sense of anticipation.8 The journals of Egeria provide a sketch of this process in Jerusalem in the fourth century C.E.9 An important development in terms of Easter as a liturgical season was the designation of a period of services to reflect on one’s baptismal experience at the Easter service. The acceptance and transformation of Pentecost from a Jewish harvest festival occurring fifty days after Passover by early Jewish and Gentile Christian communities provided a period of time that took on increased importance. The book of Acts portrays a theological reinterpretation of this festival by associating it with the emergence of the church as a result of the work of the Holy Spirit. By the second century C.E., Christian observance of Pentecost had moved in a distinctly different direction from its Jewish antecedents. Martin Connell notes, “Unlike the Jewish feast, which marked the day of Pentecost alone, the Christian practice, when it first appears, marked a quinquagesima, a period of ‘fifty days’ including and following the feast of Easter.”10 The shift in calendar to marking this lengthy period of time accompanied a shift in tone that focused on a prolonged celebration with daily gatherings increasingly taking on Sunday practices, including a ban on fasting. These developments brought together a prolonged period of mystagogical reflection on baptism during the season of Easter with the theological notion of the church’s birth celebrated on Pentecost as the culmination of the great fifty days. Craig Satterlee has chronicled this approach to post-baptismal reflection in his work on the sermons of Ambrose of Milan. “Thus, the purpose of mystagogical preaching was to ‘explain’ to the neophytes or newly baptized ‘the meaning and nature of the liturgical actions in which they have participated: baptism and Eucharist.’”11 Accompanying these developments in separating the paschal events into distinct festivals was the growing importance of pilgrimage, especially to Jerusalem, and the association of events with particular historical sites. Such a process leads Martin Connell to conclude: The span of the first five or six centuries of the Christian faith seems to indicate a general movement from the integrity of quiquagesima to its dissolution in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages, perhaps as a result of the same tendency to historicize the life of Jesus of Nazareth in liturgical celebration that also brought Holy Week into being.12

In the midst of this process of liturgical adaptation, Anscar Chupungco has challenged us to note other influences at work. Chupungco underscores the cosmic claims of Easter and the theological possibilities of linking Easter to the cycles of nature. Following the spiritual and allegorical linking of spring with Christ’s passion, Chupungco concludes that, “Easter is a spring feast in every respect, from its origin and development to its ritual expressions. As a result there is a kind of sym-

8 A few recent attempts have picked up on this historic connection between Lent and baptism. See Stanley R. Hall, “Becoming Christian: Ash Wednesday and the Sign of Ashes—A Reflection on the Ash Wednesday Liturgy at Austin Theological Seminary,” Reformed Liturgy & Music 32.4 (1998), 191–95 and Paul Galbreath, “Ash Wednesday: A Three Act Play in Turning, Nurturing, and Growing,” Liturgy for Union Presbyterian Seminary Chapel, 2010. 9 See John Wilkinson, ed., Egeria’s Travels to the Holy Land (rev. ed.; Jerusalem: Ariel, 1981). 10 Martin Connell, “From Easter to Pentecost” in Passover and Easter: The Symbolic Structuring of Sacred Seasons (ed. Paul Bradshaw and Lawrence Hoffman; Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 94. 11 See Craig Satterlee, Ambrose of Milan’s Method of Mystagogical Preaching (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 2002). 12 Connell, “From Easter to Pentecost,” 105.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 9

biosis between the Christian feast and springtime. The qualities of one have been absorbed by the other.”13 In churches in the northern hemisphere, the celebration of the season of Easter retains ties to the return of spring and the renewal of the earth. By contrast, churches in the southern hemisphere experience these cosmic cycles so that the promise of Easter accompanies them on the seasonal journey through fall and winter. From either perspective, it is important to note the development of Easter as it relates to our relationship to the earth. Summary These insights from the historical development of the season of Easter are presented in order to highlight how certain theological themes emerged in different settings in the life of the early church: diverse ways of gathering around table, extending Easter as a season of fifty days, celebrating baptisms and reflecting on lives shared together, linking Easter with the rhythms of the earth. In light of their historical significance, we have developed three imaginary narratives of the ways in which the celebration of the season of Easter could be marked today.

S C E N E S F R O M C O N G R E G AT I O N A L L I F E 1. Congregational Rebirth in the United States. When you ask any of the old-timers how new life came to Grace Presbyterian Church, they all point to the same starting place. It began the spring that there was a hole in the roof of the sanctuary. For years, the congregation had been slowly declining. They had watched the neighborhood around the old church building change as well. Crime had increased and the old houses surrounding the church appeared to be decaying. Many of the church members moved out of the neighborhood to the suburbs, and while some continued to drive in to the city for Sunday morning services, it seemed only a matter of time until the church would close its doors for good. The congregation tried adding new services and offering programs. These worked for a while, but they never seemed to last. As the congregation grew smaller and smaller, all they could do was to gather for the regular services. When torrential rain came that spring, a leak in the sanctuary threatened to change the place where they gathered for worship. So the congregation used the last of the church’s endowment to patch up the roof. The roofer told them that he would start work during Holy Week, and that the sanctuary would be closed. When the session began to plan the Good Friday service, they looked for a different place to meet. Given the choices they were facing, their young pastor encouraged them to try something new. They would walk through the neighborhood and have a service of readings from the passion story at places where violence in the neighborhood had taken place during the last year. Amidst darkened skies, a small group of about twenty people met outside the old sanctuary

13

Anscar Chupungco, Shaping the Easter Feast (Washington, D. C.: Pastoral Press, 1992), 36.

10 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

at noon. They looked up to the sky and saw the roofing crew pounding nails. Slowly, they made their way down the street to the first gathering place. Late in December, a young boy had been killed by gunfire from a drive-by shooting while playing in his living room. The group from the church stopped in front of the house and began to sing, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” An elder read of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. And then they moved on to the next stop. In front of a small grocery store, they gathered at the place where an older woman had been robbed. The force of the blow on her head had caused her to fall, and she was injured so badly that she died several weeks later. Quietly the church group sang again, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” Tears filled their eyes as the gospel was read. After two hours of walking through the neighborhood, they returned to the church. The group was tired, but they promised to meet for an Easter service on Sunday morning. When they gathered three days later, the pastor stood up and announced, “This morning, I have asked a few of our members to speak about the service we held on Friday.” One by one, they told about how deeply they were moved by what they had seen and felt as they walked around the neighborhood. Then the pastor spoke: “We cannot stay inside the walls of this church any longer. This morning, we are unlocking the doors of this church, and we are committing ourselves to working for justice in this community. May the Spirit of God breathe new life into us as we go forth. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!” The change did not come about magically. Day after day, they gathered for a small meal and began to walk around the same streets of the neighborhood. On Fridays, they began serving a meal at the church for homeless people in the neighborhood. On Mondays, they worked in the community garden planting, watering, and weeding. On Wednesday afternoons, they volunteered as tutors in the elementary school. Every Saturday morning, they picked up the trash in the school yard down the street. Starting that season of Easter, each Sunday service included reports on the church’s involvement in the neighborhood and an open invitation to bring friends and neighbors to help with the work. At the end of each Sunday service, they gathered around the baptismal font and prayed for God to strengthen them and bless the work that had begun. Slowly, but surely, Grace Presbyterian Church began to grow. 2. Eucharist and Baptism during Easter Sunday in Mexico. It was Easter morning. After picking up people in various places around town, we traveled in two big vans for about two hours from Nogales into a small village in the countryside of Mexico. We arrived at a place where people were already waiting for us. The place was decorated with colorful banners and handmade paper crafts.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 11

It was a piece of land with fruit trees; a small house with a room, a kitchen, and a bathroom where the pastor lived by himself; a large unfinished church building without doors or windows; and what seemed to be a small swimming pool. After being welcomed and sharing la paz del Senor, everybody started to prepare the fire and set the table. Tortillas and wine were placed among the food. At one point, the pastor said, “Oremos hermanos y hermanas (Let us pray, brothers and sisters).” After he prayed, he said: “Today is special for us! As Christians we remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And to celebrate that vividly, we are going to have the Lord’s Supper and baptism! Around the table we eat and share the life of Christ and our lives together . . . y no podemos nos olvydar de esso (and we can’t forget that).” He went on, talking about the ways in which Christ transformed his own life. Then he said, “We are here because of Christ … remember that last night when Jesus ate with his disciples. . . .” He said the words of institution, breaking the tortillas and pouring the wine: “Mira, la comida de Dios para nosotros (Look, the food of God to us).” He then shared the tortillas and the wine with all of us, and we ate and drank together. We continued our eucharistic meal with fried chicken, tortillas, chili, tomato, lettuce, crema, and guacamole. Background music was playing as children, adults, and dogs were all fed. Afterward, we were called to sit under a tree instead of moving to the empty church building. We began to sing as if the service was continuing without any break. Testimonies were offered, songs were sung, and several Bible readings were shared. The pastor then preached, saying how important it was for us to get together on Easter day, because on that morning Jesus had resurrected and was alive and that day was very special. “Tenemos que celebrar hermanos y hermanas (We must celebrate brothers and sisters)! No death could hold Jesus down and Jesus’ life is what keeps us going. Vamos desde los dias de los muertos hasta el dia de los vivos (We go from the day of dead to the day of the living).” He added how many times in our lives we die and resurrect, and the fact that we ate together on that very special day was because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. “No es verdad hermana Maria, no es asi mismo hermano Jorge? (Isn’t it true, sister Maria? Isn’t it like that, brother Jorge?).” He proceeded to talk about baptism as a new life out of death, that the Christian church has always celebrated how we become part of God’s world family, and how, through the love of God in Christ, we now have a deep sense of belonging. He invited us all to the tiny swimming pool. Once we were all gathered there, he said: “This water is our water reservoir. Here, we pour the water that comes to us during the week and also save the water when it rains. But now, our water reservoir is going to be our baptismal font, our Jordan river, where our brothers and sisters will be baptized. Hay mucha agua para nosotros! (There is lots of water for us!) Our lives are marked by the waters of our bautismo and the remembrance of our baptism sustains and continues to transform our lives. Jesus es la agua de la vida hermanos y hermanas (Jesus is the water of life, brothers and sisters)!”

12 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

The pastor knelt, and moving the waters with his hand, he said: “Through the waters, God seals us with God’s love, and today we remember this love in Jesus’ death and resurrection for us.” He stood up and brought one candidate at a time into the water. There, with the help of two deacons, he asked questions pertaining to the candidate’s faith. After they responded, they were immersed in the water. When they came out, there was an explosion of claps and praises among the community with people shouting: “Gracias a Dios que esta vivo, somos una familia (Thanks to God who is alive, we are a family)!” After the candidates were baptized, we sang a song. A baptismal certificate was given to each of the new members while the pastor said, “When you go to the consulate to get your visa to go to the United States, they will ask for your birth certificate. Now, you can bring your baptismal certificate because they will accept it, too. You are now born into God’s love and belong to God’s family.” We prayed and sang once more while the new members received hugs from everybody. We sang Pues si vivimos, para el Senor vivimos, somos del senor, somos del Senor (When we are living, it is in Christ Jesus; We belong to God, we belong to God). The pastor invited us back to the table to continue eating while the kids went to the water reservoir/baptismal tank that became once more their swimming pool. The pastor blessed us by saying: “Brothers and sisters, what a joyful day today. We ate together, we celebrated Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, and we participated in the baptism of our family members. Now, our kids are playing in the water. The water of our baptism is the water of our lives, the waters that quench our thirst, that wet our lands and give us food, that give us life, joy, and new life. This Easter, let us remember that we belong to the water, gift of God to the world, and through the waters of our baptism, we belong to Jesus Christ, gift of God to the transformation of the world. Go in peace under God’s resurrected son, preserve the water and keep your faith, Amen.” 3. Eucharist and Pilgrimage in Guatemala. It was Easter day. The church was filling at six o’clock, and there was incense burning inside this church made up of indigenous people from Guatemala. People were gathering at the sanctuary and making conversation as they prepared for the service. Children were running around playing with each other. The band went to their space, and people started winding down their talks. A man came to the microphone and said: “Buenos dias, hermanas y hermanos (Good morning, brothers and sisters). We are here today very early in the morning to remember the day when the women went to Jesus’ tomb only to find that the tomb was empty. Alleluia! We are here at this Easter Sunday to celebrate that the tomb is empty, that the women saw Jesus resurrected, and that Jesus won death forever. Praise be to God!” He prayed and invited people to sing. After a time of singing hymns and coritos, people sat down and the pastor began to preach from the pulpit:

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 13

Hermanos y hermanas, in the midst of the life that Jesus gave to us, we must remember our brothers and sisters who died trying to cross the desert looking for a better life for their families. We must remember those who are still on their way and we haven’t heard from them anymore. We must remember those who cannot come back and those who have no means to try a new life. We must remember the families that stayed here and are fractured by the absence of a mother, a father, a son, or by going through illness without means to be treated. As we remember Jesus Christ, the way he passed from life to death and back to life again, the Passover is very important for us, too. Because, like the Hebrews in Egypt, who were trying to find a promised land, we, too, are trying to pass-over the desert both ways to keep our families fed and alive. Sometimes the crossing of the desert for us is like the cross of Jesus Christ, crossing from death to life, being crossed by the border fences, injustices, and with a high price to pay. The sacrifice of Jesus becomes our sacrifice as we also try to search for more just ways to live. Ai hermanos y hermanas, we all belong to Jesus, who cross-ed so many borders and distances, hatreds and antagonisms, self-righteousness and arrogance. In Jesus, a migrant himself, we understand ourselves. It is through his cross and the cross-ing over so many borders that his life, death, and resurrection entails that we understand our attempts to cross over whatever prevents us from having a dignified life. Let us not forget that Easter was only possible because of Good Friday! So, if you are crossing the desert alone or with your family in the future, among bandits and robbers and drugdealers, don’t forget that we must keep the promise of Easter and the hope of a new life! Let us pray for all of those who are passing/crossing over places and doing it for the love of their families. Let us pray that God gives them and us, cross-er people, a promised land as well, be it here, in our pilgrimage or anywhere else. . . .

He paused, took a breath, and said “Let us pray… .” As the church started to pray, the space was filled with loud prayers and soon, overflowing tears. For about an hour, people prayed alone, then together, then alone again, standing, shouting, jumping up and down, crying quietly on bent knees, supplicating God’s mercy and favor towards them and their families. We could hear several people praying for children without fathers and mothers, and for those who were deported and had nothing else to do in their homeland; for kids who learned about gangs in the U.S., were deported to their countries and started violent gangs; for women raped and abused by the coyotes (people who lead migrants across the border) and border patrol police along the desert. . . . We heard about families torn apart by the lack of jobs; family members threatened by the people who lent them money to cross the desert, after they came back home without any success; and about couples estranged by such a long time without seeing each other. . . . The prayers made the atmosphere heavy, and after a while, movement started to slow down. As the prayers started to lose intensity, people sat down and remained seated in the pews. A

14 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

deep silence overtook the worship space, and the whole congregation did not say a word or make a move. After what seemed a very long time, the pastor came to the Eucharist table, and helped by two women, uncovered the bread and the wine. The pastor said, “Hermanos y hermanas, hay aqui alguno que quiera dar un testimonho? (Brothers and sisters, is there anybody here who wants to give a testimony?)” People were too tired to speak; the silence was kept intact. From the table, the pastor continued: Don’t give up! God has given us life! God has provided for the journey. Look and see, we have food for the journey! Especially at this Easter day, as we eat and drink this food, we MUST remember and never forget that life is bigger than death! No matter what you or your family is going through, or where you might be in your pilgrimage, there is promise of life for you to keep going. Today is the Easter of our Lord Jesus Christ and because of Jesus, it is our Easter as well! Like the women who went to the tomb, we are called to go there and see that our Lord is risen! Let us keep going, brother and sisters. We cannot stop, or we will die before our time like so many of our people! Here at this table are the signs and the promises of our new life, life always renewed to us. Like Jesus with his disciples and friends, it is the eating and drinking together that help us continue our journey. Here, we stop and renew our strength; here, we stop and find rest; here, we stop and gain new perspectives; here, we stop and are reminded that we are not alone, that God almighty is with us and that the church of Jesus Christ, God’s family, is with us, here in Guatemala, in El Salvador, in Honduras, in Mexico, and in Estados Unidos. As we are about to eat this bread and drink this wine, remember the powerful life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Jesus fought against the injustices of his time and was killed. Now, in Jesus’ memory, get your portion of strength and renewal and transformation and go back to the road trusting that God in Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, will walk with you, will be part of your pilgrimage, and will give you a new Jerusalem, a promised land here and also when you die. See, we can still be thankful for God’s love in our lives, can’t we? Let us do this: as you take a piece of this bread, give it to somebody else and receive it from somebody else as a gesture of our life together, of our dependence on each other, as a reminder that we are not alone and that God is here in our midst through each other.

And raising the bread, he said, “on the night Jesus had his last supper with his friends. . . .” CONCLUSION These figurings of the church of Jesus Christ in different places show the diversity of situations where people are celebrating Eucharist, each place with its own specificity and a different reading on

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 15

the season of Easter. Since its inception, Easter is the weaving of God’s story into our story and of our story being reshaped by the story of God. Easter is not an isolated event, but a culmination of the present, past, and future of God’s presence in history. At Easter, creation is reclaimed, our past is redone, our present is firmly grasped, and our future holds a promise. In Easter, we celebrate not only Jesus’ resurrection but also Jesus’ life and death, because resurrection only makes sense in light of the ethical ways that Jesus lived his life. In Christ, Easter becomes a political project to the world, as it embraces the world with prophetic admonitions and the promise of transformation. Grace Presbyterian Church finds a way back when they reach out to others. The repetitive signs of a dwindling church are deeply entrenched in the people’s souls, and a sense of helplessness carries the scent of death. However, Easter time provided new life to this congregation. Instead of ending in the cemetery, their journey took another route, and new life came upon then. Where there was death, now there is a stubborn sense of newness. The Mexican Baptist church shows us that life is interconnected in deep ways. There was no compartmentalization of the congregation, no separation between Christian education, testimonies, drinking water, baptism and fun, preaching, the pastor’s house, the worshiping tree, tortillas, guacamole, crema, grape juice, hymns, coritos, and life together. In this community, drinking water became the baptismal font that prepared the way into Easter and then the water became once more the place of play for children who are nurtured by the community. Citizenship and baptism are understood as the same, and the nation-state and church family are closely connected, for better or for worse. Easter time is about families connecting, new people joining, and the world gathered around the dining table and the baptismal font/reservoir/pool. The Guatemalan Pentecostal church seems to be the only place where people can go and feel the world as bearable. The weight of disgrace crushing people’s lives is so pervasive that life is always at risk of being taken away in a heartbeat. In the midst of death, of rupture, of brokenness, Easter is the “brute flower of desire”14 that forces life into the midst of this people who, instead of nihilism, chooses the painful path of believing that life is still stronger than death. In a world that denies them the luxury of living simply with their families, that does not allow them to live with a minimum assurance of help/providence, that prevents them from moving, that persists in constricting their social/economic choices, Easter becomes the place of safety, a country of radical belonging without borders and walls, where dreams of a just society and family reunion can be nurtured. In these figurings of the churches of Christ in times of Easter, we can notice the following: 1. Easter goes from being a celebration on a given Sunday of the calendar to becoming a way of

14

Caetano Veloso, “O Quereres,” in Personalidade (Polygram Recording B0000046MU, 1993).

16 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

living. The development of celebrating Easter as a season of fifty days marks the understanding of Easter as not simply a point in time, but as a continuing journey. Ultimately, Easter saturates the entire liturgical calendar/life as it is repeated every Sunday. No matter when we are celebrating, it will always be Easter. 2. Yet, Easter never comes without the struggles of life and the brutalities of Good Friday. The celebrations of Easter in the early church held closely to the inherent relationship between death and life. Sundays arrive only after the announcements of death along the way: the tenebrae of Wednesdays, the anguish of Maundy Thursdays, the desperation of Good Fridays, and the numbness and revolt of Holy Saturdays. Then and only then, we are able to figure out what Easter Sunday is all about. 3. Easter links together a basic sacramental pattern for the life of the church. Gathering for a meal and welcoming new brothers and sisters through the waters of baptism are basic to the Easter celebration. 4. Easter then provides a framework to live in the world according to the ways in which Christ lived. There is the proclamation of a new and alternative way of living in God’s “kin-dom,”15 with the beatitudes; the parables; the harsh demands to love our neighbor; to share food, feelings, and belongings with those excluded. This new way of living is always pressing against injustices, class divisions, and the status quo. Even if our culture has made Easter a cultural event and tamed its challenges and urgency, we are nonetheless required by Easter to pay attention to the things God and God’s kin-dom require of us, as demonstrated in the life of Jesus. 5. Easter brings a sense of becoming, not only in a figurative way but very concretely. Easter begins social processes of liberation, of justice, of transformation, freedom, and dignity; it reunites people in relationship; it prevents evil from destroying lives; and it teaches us to share our belongings and to pay attention to the lives of others. We are required to offer help, presence, means, and tools to our brothers and sisters who wrestle with whatever is at stake in their lives. 6. Easter prompts people to probe for a sense of gratitude and to offer thanksgiving as a way of maintaining balance with the difficulties of life. 7. Easter is about a “dangerous and liberating memory”16 of Jesus that becomes a source of continuous hope and social transformation for all and especially for the crucified people. 8. Easter is the unbelievable promise and possibility of life in a world where death spreads everywhere.

15 The term “kin-dom” has been used by liberation theologians to reflect inclusive community and to avoid the colonial and hierarchical associations of the word “kingdom.” 16 “. . . memoria passionis, mortis, et resurrectionis Jesu Christi . . . a dangerous and liberating memory, which badgers the present and calls it into question . . . [and] compels believers to be in a continual state of transformation in order to take this future into account,” from Johann Metz, Faith in History and Society: Toward a Practical Fundamental Theology (trans. Matthew J. Ashley; New York: Crossroad, 2007), 88–89.

Interpretation 17

LITURGY AND EASTER

Evangelically Rooted.

Critically Engaged.

New from IVP Academic

Reclaiming the Old Testament for Christian Preaching Edited by Grenville J. R. Kent, Laurence A. Turner, Paul J. Kissling Based on the conviction that the Old Testament texts are pertinent to Christian practice, this volume offers guidance for expository preaching. Contributors include: David G. Firth, Tremper Longman III, R. W. L. Moberly, Christopher J. H. Wright and others. 978-0-8308-3887-5, $23.00

“We are fortunate to be studying and preaching on the Old Testament at a time when critical study has produced many approaches to the Old Testament that will aid the preacher. This volume is a most useful guide to the way those approaches resource preaching on different kinds of texts in the Old Testament.” —John Goldingay, Fuller Theological Seminary Follow us on Twitter

Images of Salvation in the New Testament Brenda B. Colijn Brenda Colijn draws on New Testament theology and literary criticism to uncover how New Testament images provide the building blocks of the master story of redemption. 978-0-8308-3872-1, $25.00

“[Brenda Colijn] refuses to flatten images and metaphors into propositions, but rather seeks to unleash afresh their power to transform our experience.” —David A. deSilva, Ashland Theological Seminary

Join us on Facebook

The Drama of Ephesians Timothy G. Gombis Combining elements of commentary and specialized studies in Ephesians, Timothy Gombis has rediscovered Ephesians as a dramatic text that follows the narrative arc of the triumph of God in Christ. 978-0-8308-2720-6, $20.00

“Timothy Gombis has written an eloquent and compelling engagement with Ephesians as an invitation to participate in God’s subversive, dramatic rescue mission. . . . Those who read it will see Ephesians—and themselves—in a whole new light.” —Michael J. Gorman, St. Mary’s Seminary and University

800.843.9487

ivpacademic.com

The Sound of Silence: Interpreting Mark 16:1–8 through the Centuries CHRISTINE E. JOYNES Director, Centre for Reception History of the Bible University of Oxford The women’s silence in response to the message of the “young man” at the tomb is a feature found only in Mark. Its omission by Matthew and Luke suggests that they found this element in the narrative problematic. Yet Mark’s text has played a significant role in the Easter liturgy of the ancient church and beyond. The reception history of the narrative reveals

A

both harmonization and discord.

t first sight, Mark 16 may not be the most obvious text to use when celebrating Easter. Its lack of resurrection appearances and conclusion with the women’s fearful flight from the empty tomb contrasts starkly with the other Gospels’ resurrection accounts.1

And they went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. (16:8)

Mark’s emphasis on fear, awe, and silence is strikingly different from the joyful affirmations traditionally associated with the Easter proclamation of resurrection. It is perhaps surprising, then, to discover that Mark 16:1–8 played a key role in the Easter liturgy in the ancient church and continued to exercise considerable influence through the centuries. This essay seeks to highlight the rich potential of the Markan text by sampling a selection of interpretations from different contexts and periods. As we will see, the women’s silence evokes discordant interpretations, which challenge us to think afresh about the Easter message. GOSPEL HARMONY? Mark’s narrative of the women’s visit to the empty tomb is widely regarded as the earliest tradition of this event.2 The evangelist describes how Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices and went to the tomb to anoint Jesus. En route, they discuss how they will remove the stone from the tomb entrance to gain access, but upon arriving, they discover the stone rolled back. Entering the tomb, they find a young man (neaniskos) “dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed” (16:5). He gives them a message of reassurance (“Do not be alarmed”) and news of the resurrection (“You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was cruci-

1 There is not scope in this article to discuss the emergence of Mark 16:9–20 as a secondary, later ending to the Gospel. For a good analysis of the issues, see James A. Kelhoffer, Miracle and Mission: The Authentication of Missionaries and their Message in the Longer Ending of Mark (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). 2 See, for example, Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 781.

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Interpretation 19

fied. He has been raised, he is not here,” 16:6) as well as a commission (“. . . go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee,” 16:7). But, Mark concludes, instead of fulfilling their commission, the women fled and “said nothing to anyone” (16:8). As the earliest interpreter of Mark, Matthew attempts to remove some of the ambiguities and anomalies in the Markan text. Hence, the women do not come to the tomb to anoint Jesus— which would have been futile after two days in the grave—but rather to see the tomb. Matthew also explains who moved the stone from the entrance of the tomb—an angel from heaven—in contrast to the mystery that surrounds the removal of the stone in Mark (16:4). Mark’s neaniskos is clearly interpreted as an angel by Matthew, and Matthew includes his own material regarding an earthquake. While the command to go to Galilee remains, the singling out of Peter is omitted and, even more significantly, Matthew also removes the silence of the women who, in contrast to Mark, impart the angel’s message to the disciples. Luke has some significant agreements with Mark (against Matthew) in his retelling of the empty tomb story: the women bring spices (presumably to anoint the body, as in Mark) and the mystery about who removed the stone remains. But he also includes special Lukan material, with two “men in dazzling clothes,” who give a rather different message to the women. The command to go to Galilee is omitted, and instead, the theme of fulfillment is found through recollecting the passion prediction (24:7–8). Like Matthew, Luke removes the Markan reference to the women’s silence. While twenty-first-century interpreters have been concerned to discuss the historical accuracy of Mark’s empty tomb account, this was not the predominant concern of earlier commentators. Rather, their tendency was to harmonize the different gospel records, clarifying the relationship between the events narrated. Thus, Pseudo-Jerome, the seventh-century author of the first fulllength commentary on Mark, constantly links the Markan narrative to other biblical texts. He interprets Mark’s detail, “And they said nothing to anyone” (16:8), by explaining, “because they alone see the mystery of the resurrection who themselves have deserved to see it.”3 He then points the audience to a different version of the story where someone is told the news of the resurrection, citing John’s account where Peter runs to the tomb to see for himself what he has heard (John 20:3–7). The impact of reading Mark 16 in the light of the other Gospels illustrates a typical approach to Mark’s concluding emphasis on silence, namely the assumption that the women did not really remain silent. This is clearly the position adopted by Pseudo-Jerome, since he makes a point of portraying the women as messengers of good news: “Because death was announced through a woman, so through a woman the news of resurrection life.”4

3 Michael Cahill, The First Commentary on Mark: An Annotated Translation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 130. 4 Ibid., 129.

20 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

FA L L I B L E F O L L O W E R S ? This is not to say that the women have generally been viewed in a positive light by earlier interpreters; indeed, their reaction to the events at the empty tomb has often been used as a foil to urge congregations to exhibit greater faith. Here, we might note the approach of Peter Chrysologus, for example. He regards the women’s question “Who will roll back the stone for us?” as indicative of their lack of faith, and similarly suggests that their intention to anoint Jesus is misplaced: In this text the women hasten with feminine devotion; they bring to the tomb not faith in One who is alive, but ointments for one who is dead; and they prepare for the duties of mourning for one who is buried instead of preparing for the joys of divine triumphs for One who is risen.5

Chrysologus’ interpretation emphasizes the resurrection as the fulfillment of prophecy, a point made clear in the Markan text by the phrase,“there you will see him, just as he told you” (16:7), which refers back to Jesus’ promise in 14:28 (“But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee”). On this basis, according to Chrysologus, the women ought not to have gone to anoint Jesus. In contrast, Bede adopts a more positive stance towards the women who visit the tomb, attributing their actions to the “great fervency of their love.” He is much more concerned to point to the magnitude of the resurrection miracle, suggesting that the stone’s removal illustrates the gradual revelation of the glory of the resurrection because “so great was the virtue of the miracle that the weak hearts of mortals could not grasp the significance of this all at once.”6 He thereby highlights the unprecedented nature of the event that, despite Jesus’ prediction beforehand, was beyond the mind’s grasp for those involved in the drama. Differing interpretations of the women continue to appear through the Reformation period. For Luther, the women symbolize “the good conscience that still lives in error,” and for Calvin, they demonstrate that God elects those who in the eyes of the world are foolish and weak (1 Cor 1:27). Musculus shows an ambivalence towards the women, combining the earlier interpretations we have found in Chrysologus and Bede. Thus, the women’s love for Christ deserves praise, but directing their attention toward a dead body and forgetting Christ’s resurrection prediction is reprehensible.7 We have so far concentrated on interpretations from key church figures in different periods, but the impact of the Markan text is more far-reaching. It is a resource for poets and artists as well as clergy. At this point, I mention by way of example the poet Sir John Stradling (1563–1637). As the following excerpt from his Divine Poems (1625) makes clear, he adopts a similar position to Calvin with regard to the women’s actions: 265 Hath not God chosen things of small esteeme,

5 Chrysologus, Sermon 82 (PL 52: 430C). Translation by W. B. Palardy, St Peter Chrysologus: Selected Sermons (FC 17; New York: Catholic University of America Press), 44. 6 Bede, Homilies on the Gospels 2.9. Cited by Thomas C. Oden and Christopher A. Hall, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: Mark (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1998), 242. 7 Martin Luther, D. Martin Luther’s Evangelien-Auslegung (ed. Erwin Mühlhaupt; 5 vols.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1964–1973), 5.275 [=Sermon from 1524]. John Calvin, A Harmony of the Gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke (ed. David W. Torrance and Thomas F. Torrance; trans. A. W. Morrison and T. H. L. Parker; 3 vols.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972), 3.221. Wolfgang Musculus, In Evangelistam Matthaeum Commentarii (Basel: Heruagius, 1561), 611. Cited by Ulrich Luz, Matthew 21–28 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 603.

LITURGY AND EASTER

266 267 268 269 270

Interpretation 21

And foolish in appearance [1 Cor 1:27], to confound Such as in th’ eyes of worldlings glorious seeme? Examples daily prouing this, abound. Christ’s birth to simple shepheards first made knowne, His Resurrection first to women showne.8

A contrasting literary example can be found in Sir William Vaughan’s “The Seventh Dayes Exercise” (1641), which uses arguments from nature to argue, along the lines adopted by Chrysologus, that the resurrection was to be expected. Thus, Vaughan reasons, if swallows can rise, if silk worms and butterflies undergo changes, if flies grow from putrefaction and the phoenix can be reborn from fire, then it is only to be expected that Christ should have risen from the dead.9 When we briefly sample interpretations of the women’s actions, both inside and outside the church, it becomes apparent then that they are not universally regarded as fallible followers; but neither are they unequivocally held up as paradigms of faith. The discord among interpreters on this point highlights tensions within the text. PA S S I N G F R O M V I C E T O V I R T U E Irrespective of whether the women are viewed as exemplars of faith or fallible followers, in both instances, Mark’s resurrection narrative is frequently used to encourage spiritual growth. This is epitomized by Gregory the Great’s concluding exhortation in his twenty-first Homily (on Mark 16:1–7): “Let us pass from vice to virtue, so that we may be worthy to see our Redeemer in Galilee.”10 This emphasis on moral exhortation explains the preoccupation of commentators with the temporal details in the Markan narrative, in particular the timing of the women’s visit in Mark 16:2: “very early … when the sun had risen.” The repetition in Mark’s account here is interpreted as indicative of his desire to emphasize the transition from darkness to light and new life in Christ; from sorrow to joy. To quote Pseudo-Jerome again: “After the sad sabbath” a happy day shines forth. This is the most important of days, since as the first light dawns on that important day, my Lord rises up in triumph and says, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Ps 118:24)… the true sun rises after the setting of the body.11

Mark’s detail that the women entered the tomb is also regarded as significant. Hence, Chrysologus suggests “they entered the tomb so that having been buried together with Christ they might rise from the tomb with Christ.”12 Chrysologus’ emphasis upon dying and rising with Christ illus-

8 John Stradling, “The Seventh Classis” from Divine Poems, 1625. Literature Online Database. Online: http://lion.chadwyck.co.uk/marketing/index.jsp. Accessed August 30, 2010. 9 William Vaughan, “The Seventh Dayes Exercise” in The Soules Exercise in the Daily Contemplation of our Saviour’s Birth, Life, Passion, and Resurrection (London, 1641), 269–70. 10 Gregory the Great, Homily 21 (PL 76: 1174A). Translation by David Hurst, Gregory the Great. Forty Gospel Homilies (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian, 1990), 163. 11 Cahill, First Commentary on Mark, 127.

22 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

trates the close connection that emerged between the resurrection and baptism (cf. Rom 6), with the latter offering believers the opportunity to participate in the drama of salvation.13 Thus, Basil of Seleucia focuses upon baptism as a recapitulation of Christ’s resurrection in his Easter Homily: In one instant he destroyed all record of our ancient debt incurred under the law, in order to lead us to heaven where there is no death but only eternal life and righteousness. By the baptism which you, the newly enlightened, have just received, you now share in these blessings. Your initiation into the life of grace is the pledge of your resurrection. … Grace transforms all who are placed in the font as the seed is transformed in the womb.14

Basil’s reference to Christ “destroying all record of our ancient debt” is just one example of the various atonement theories that emerged to try and explain the significance of Christ’s death and resurrection. While it is beyond the scope of this essay to survey the range of doctrinal positions that developed, we might note that they all share the common view of the resurrection as a central tenet of Christian faith. ENACTING THE EASTER DRAMA The idea of participation in the resurrection event also appears in a different context through the emergence of Easter plays. The earliest extant Easter dramas, known as Visitatio sepulchri, appeared in the ninth century. They centered around the women’s encounter with the angel at the tomb. The dialogue, known as the Quem quaeritis on account of its opening words, was probably sung antiphonally: Angel:

Quem quaeritis in sepulchro, O Christicole? (Whom do you seek in the tomb, O Christians?) Women: Jesum Nazarenum, O celicole (Jesus of Nazareth, O heaven dwellers15) Angel: Non est hic, surrexit sicut predixerat; ite nuntiate quia surrexit de sepulchro (He is not here; he is risen just as he foretold; go announce that he is risen from the sepulcher)

This dialogue was initially performed prior to the Introit for the Easter Mass or at Matins on Easter morning, though its liturgical positioning shifted in the eleventh century to just after Matins.16 Amalarius, Bishop of Metz (?780–850), notes that Mark 16:1–8 provided the basis for the majority of the Quem quaeritis, and indeed some versions—such as the following one from Klosterneuberg—make their dependence on the Markan narrative very clear, with their special reference to Peter (Mark 16:7 cf. Matt 28:7):

12

Chrysologus, Sermon 82 (PL 52: 431C). Translation by Palardy, St Peter Chrysologus, 46. For a more extensive discussion of the connection between resurrection and baptism, see my article “Wombs and Tombs: The Reception History of Mark 16:1–20,” in From the Margins 2: Women of the New Testament and their Afterlives (ed. Christine E. Joynes and Christopher C. Rowland; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009). 14 PG 28.1079–82. Cited by Oden and Hall, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: Mark, 245. 15 Smoldon suggests that the use of the plural “heaven dwellers” is probably for rhyming purposes, although the text is derived from Mark, where only one angel is mentioned. See W. L. Smoldon, “The Easter Sepulchre MusicDrama,” Music & Letters 27 (1946), 10. 16 On the complex relationship between the Quem quaeritis trope and the Visitatio sepulchri, see David A. Bjork, “On the Dissemination of Quem Quaeritis and the Visitatio sepulchri and the Chronology of their Early Sources,” Comparative Drama 14 (1980), 46–69. 13

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 23

Angel:

Quem quaeritis o tremule mulieres, in hoc tumulo plorantes (Whom do you seek, O trembling women in this tomb lamenting?) Women: Jesum Nazarenum crucifixum quaerimus (We seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified) Angel: Non est hic quem quaeritis, sed cito euntes nunciate discipulis eius et Petro quia surrexit Jesus. (He is not here whom you seek, but go quickly and tell the disciples and Peter that Jesus has risen.)17

The original liturgical setting for the Quem quaeritis is significant. Due to the monastic context in which it was performed, men played the role of the women at the empty tomb, dramatically reenacting the events of Mark 16. An insight into how this functioned can be found in the tenthcentury Regularis concordia (Agreement of the Rule), which was ordered by King Edgar as part of the restoration of Benedictine monasticism after the Viking invasions: While the third lesson is being read, four of the brethren shall vest. . . . One of them, wearing an alb and carrying a palm goes to the place of the sepulchre while during the third respond [following the lesson] three others vested in copes and holding thuribles in their hands shall advance as though searching for something. Now these things are done in imitation of the angel seated at the tomb and of the women coming with perfumes to anoint the body of Jesus.18

As David Bjork notes, the purpose of this practice was “above all to make dramatically clear the manner in which past time is rendered present again in cultic acts.”19 The audience is encouraged to identify with the women approaching the tomb, participating in the drama of human redemption, hearing the news of resurrection afresh. The Quem quaeritis came to exercise a broader impact as a result of its transition from an original monastic setting into vernacular drama. Over 1,000 manuscripts of Visitatio plays exist from all parts of Europe. According to Luz, the influence of these plays on popular piety cannot be overestimated: “Along with visual art these plays were in a sense the Bible of the people.”20 The plays had a pedagogical purpose, aimed at instructing the audience about salvation: Be quiet and sit on the ground; We want you to learn How our Lord has risen From the bitter bonds of death As solace to the human race So that he might redeem all people21

17

Reproduced in Smoldon, “The Easter Sepulchre Music-Drama,”10. Lynette Muir, The Biblical Drama of Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 15. Bjork, “On the Dissemination,” 50. 20 Luz, Matthew 21–28, 318. 21 Innsbruck Easter play 5.5–10, cited by Luz, Matthew 21–28, 318. 18 19

24 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

In addition, as Luz points out, their intent appears to have been the cultivation of piety, summoning people to repentance and a godly life. This is exemplified by Mary Magdalene’s response in the Vienna passion play: Oh my beloved master, forgive my sin; I throw myself at your feet, inflame my heart!22

Warnings against godless activity are commonplace in the Easter plays, alongside a summons to share in Christ’s sufferings.23 Incidental details from the Markan text were elaborated upon, as in the case of the women purchasing spices from a merchant figure. This distinctively Markan feature, interpreted as folly by Peter Chrysologus, becomes the occasion for humor in many of the dramas; for in the transfer from a church context to the marketplace, these plays became entertainment as well as retaining a didactic function. The merchant (Mercator) thus acquires a wife, son, and an apprentice in various elaborations on the biblical account. After summarizing the popularity of the Visitatio, whose zenith was in the thirteenth century, William Smoldon concludes that the Quem quaeritis trope is the “germ of all European drama.”24 This indicates the extensive impact of our Markan text, beyond the confines of the church. Yet in both contexts, the audience is encouraged to imagine themselves as participants in the events narrated in Mark 16:1–8, identifying with the biblical characters. The Bible is not viewed as a historical document to be dissected, but rather as a dynamic text that impacts on the present. HEARING THE NEWS OF RESURRECTION As mentioned earlier, traditionally, the Easter proclamation is one of joyous affirmation, which composers have sought to express through music. While Mark’s focus on fear, trembling, and silence in response to the resurrection may appear unpromising in this respect, it has nevertheless had some impact musically. First, we should note that the Quem quaeritis trope discussed above has its origins in a musical context, since it was originally sung. Its musical function was subsequently overshadowed following the transition into vernacular drama, although occasionally the music and drama have again been linked.25 Several other features that we have already encountered are manifest in musical interpretations, particularly the harmonization of Mark’s narrative with details from other Gospels. We also find a summons to the hearer to share in Christ’s resurrection victory, even amidst an acknowledgement of the women’s fearful reaction at the tomb, as in J. S. B. Monsell’s hymn “Christ is Risen! Alleluia!”:

22

Cited by Luz, Matthew 21–28, 319. See further Peter Loewen, “Mary Magdalene as Joculatrix Domini: Franciscan Music and Vernacular Homiletics in the Shrewsbury Officium Resurrectionis and Easter Plays from Germany and Bohemia,” in Joynes and Rowland, From the Margins 2, 94–113. 24 Smoldon, “The Easter Sepulchre Music-Drama,” 2. 25 See, for example, James MacMillan’s Visitatio Sepulchri (1993), a sacred opera specifically written for stage performance using the text of a thirteenth-century Latin Easter play from Notre Dame, Paris. MacMillan’s text conflates the Matthean and Lukan versions of events: instead of remaining silent, the women tell the disciples the angels’ message. 23

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 25

Christ is risen! henceforth never death nor hell shall us enthral; we are Christ’s, in him for ever we have triumphed over all; all the doubting and dejection of our trembling hearts have ceased; on his day of resurrection; let us rise and keep the feast26

The theme of passing from vice to virtue, has also been explored musically. By way of example, I mention Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 31 “Der Himmel lacht! Die Erde jubiliert” (The heavens laugh, the earth exults in gladness), a piece composed for Easter 1715. This interprets the women’s visit to the tomb as a challenge to purge vice and put on virtue. Listeners are exhorted to “spiritually rise and leave the tombs of sin, if you are a member of Christ.” Here again, we find the women’s flight from the tomb interpreted symbolically. Following Donald Juel, we therefore suggest: To hear in Mark’s elusive ending the strains of Handel’s “Halleluia Chorus” would require drowning out the music being performed. But to insist that the discordant ending offers no promise of resolution whatever is to do equal violence to the story. 27

Mark’s account of the empty tomb, despite its lack of closure, still offers resurrection hope.

VISUALIZING THE RESURRECTION EVENT An important part of understanding how Mark 16 has been interpreted through the centuries is to be found in visual representations of the narrative. As I have illustrated elsewhere, significant similarities emerge between textual interpretations of Mark’s resurrection account and material evidence from the same period.28 So, for example, the connection between resurrection and baptism is highlighted by the representation of the women who visit the tomb on baptismal fonts.29 Indeed, it is striking that the earliest representation of the women at the empty tomb is to be found in the (badly preserved) third-century fresco from the baptistery of Dura Europos (Syria), c. 250 C.E. A further feature to arise from the reception history of Mark 16:1–8 is that, perhaps surprisingly, the earliest imagery of the resurrection was not of Jesus coming out from the tomb but rather of the women encountering the angel there.30 Portrayals of Christ rising from the tomb only gradually begin to appear in the eleventh century.31 Furthermore, the wide range of media on

26 J. S. B. Monsell, “Christ is Risen! Alleluia!,” Baptist Praise and Worship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 358. 27 Donald Juel, “A Disquieting Silence: The Matter of the Ending,” in The Ending of Mark and the Ends of God: Essays in Memory of Donald Harrisville Juel (ed. Beverly Roberts Gaventa and Patrick D. Miller; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005), 11. 28 Joynes, “Wombs and Tombs,” 232–38. 29 Ibid., 232–33. 30 Gertrud Schiller, Ikonographie der Christlichen Kunst. Band 3. Die Auferstehung und Erhöhung Christi (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus G. Mohn, 1971), 17. 31 Ibid. Other symbols of resurrection are of course apparent, such as the raising of Lazarus. See Robin Jensen, Understanding Early Christian Art (London: Routledge, 2000), 156–82 for a summary of the range of symbols used.

26 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

which the women’s visit to the tomb is depicted—from ivories and oil lamps to altar pieces and book covers—also indicates the widespread influence of the passage. As we noted above, the tendency of interpreters prior to the Enlightenment was to harmonize the Gospel narratives. Even though an artist may point to the Markan text by depicting three women (Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome), features from the other Gospels—such as the sleeping guards—will probably also be included.32 And sometimes, even though just two women are portrayed, their actions correspond most closely to the Markan text. By way of illustration, we might note the following representations of two women fleeing from the tomb in fear (a scene that occurs much less frequently than the traditional portrayal of the women approaching the angel), namely a ninth-century silver container from the Vatican33 and an eleventhor twelfth-century reliquary cover from St-Denis, Paris. The former juxtaposes the women’s flight from the tomb with scenes from the road to Emmaus and John and Peter’s visit to the empty tomb. This juxtaposition suggests that fear and silence is not regarded as the end of the story. The silver reliquary cover (figure 1) shows the women’s impending flight, demonstrated by their outward turned feet and corroborated by the citation of Mark 16:8 (“They were overcome with trembling and shock”) on the reliquary cover. Although the Markan text is cited in the above image, only two women are shown. The reliquary cover raises further questions about the relationship between text and image since, alongside the biblical quotations, the text of a Greek hymn is cited, which focuses upon the divine glory of the angel figure. This clearly implies that the women’s trembling and shock are to be understood as the response to epiphany, an encounter with the divine.

Fig.1. Women at the empty tomb, silver reliquary cover, 11th/12th century. Location: St-Denis, Paris. Photo credit: Hirmer Verlag, München.

32 In contrast to the Markan account, Matthew mentions only two women (Matt 28:2), Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, and Luke’s account mentions a larger group: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them (Luke 24:10). 33 Reproduced in Joynes, “Wombs and Tombs,” 236.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 27

The eleventh-century shift towards portrayals of Christ emerging from the tomb eclipsed representations of the women’s encounter with the angel, with the result that images of the resurrection became much more male dominated. Indeed, often the women are omitted altogether. Here, I might mention Matthias Grünewald’s Isenheim altarpiece (1515), or similarly, El Greco’s Resurrection (late 1590s), which both depict Christ coming out of the tomb, provoking a terrified response from the sleeping soldiers. The prominent role played by the women who visit the tomb in early Christian art again testifies to the significant impact of our Markan text. The frequency with which the Gospels are harmonized in such images again raises important questions about the extent to which Mark’s note of silence was ever heard. More often than not, the Markan conclusion is subverted by reading his narrative through the lens of other biblical texts.

R E A D I N G M A R K ’ S R E S U R R E C T I O N N A R R AT I V E T O D AY Despite discernible hermeneutical shifts, such as the move by Reformers away from allegorical interpretation to focus on the literal meaning of the Bible, there is a clear emphasis across the centuries on the existential significance of Mark’s resurrection narrative for Christians, experienced in their Easter worship. So Luther can write, “We should not merely regard how the resurrection happened; you should recognize that it happened for you.”34 This existential focus became less central with the post-Enlightenment development of the historical-critical approach to biblical interpretation. Instead of emphasizing the similarities between the gospel accounts, seeking to harmonize them, interpreters came to dwell on their differences. This led in turn to the attribution of considerable influence to each individual evangelist. As a result, Mark’s Gospel also came to be appreciated more fully as a self-contained story, to be read independently of the other gospels. When we read Mark’s ending in relation to the rest of his narrative, several significant features emerge. First, Jesus remains the crucified one (16:6) even after the resurrection. This highlights Mark’s emphasis on Jesus’ suffering and the necessity for suffering discipleship. Secondly, as Joel Marcus points out, our passage demonstrates that the new age does not obliterate fear, misunderstanding, and opposition to the divine will.35 These are features throughout the Gospel, and continue even after Jesus has been raised. Indeed, the women’s silence is to be understood as part of Mark’s messianic secret motif. Earlier in the gospel, silence concerning Jesus’ true identity has been enjoined but disobeyed (1:44–45; 7:36). Mark 9:9 defines the time limit for this silence (“until the

34 35

Luther, Evangelien-Auslegung, 5.352. Cited by Luz, Matthew 21–28, 603. Joel Marcus, Mark 8–16 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 1087.

28 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Son of Man should have risen from the dead”). Yet here in 16:7–8, where proclamation is finally commanded, ironically the women are silent. Reading Mark’s conclusion in conjunction with the rest of his narrative is of course fundamental in order to grasp its import. But even here, we find that interpretative discord remains. Thus, Marcus argues that the women’s silence is to be understood as unwillingness to speak, rather than being the response to a divine epiphany as Adela Yarbro Collins suggests. Similarly, Morna Hooker’s view that the angel’s message of a forthcoming resurrection appearance in Galilee would be accepted as reliable since Jesus’ other prophecies have all been fulfilled, stands in stark contrast to William Telford’s view that Mark is engaging in a polemical attack on Jewish Christian leaders in the church, by omitting any resurrection appearances to them.36 So we find no more harmony in contemporary readings than we found in those from the ancient church.

CONCLUSION This article has sought to provide some examples for reflection from the extensive reception history of Mark 16:1–8. As the earliest of the gospel accounts, and a source for Matthew and Luke, we cannot overestimate the impact of the Markan resurrection narrative on the subsequent development of the Easter proclamation. Indeed, we have seen that the “afterlife” of Mark 16:1–8 is surprisingly far-reaching. It extends beyond ecclesiastical confines to influence popular culture through art, music, and literature. But its impact within church liturgy is also noteworthy, prompting commentators to grapple with its implications. 1. Harmonizing Mark. A key feature to emerge from surveying the text’s reception is the frequency with which Mark’s narrative is read through the lens of the other Gospels. So Donald Juel complains: For the less sophisticated readers who are familiar with Matthew, Luke and John, it is difficult even to hear Mark. Endings are automatically supplied. . . . The history of the Markan ending in manuscript and commentary betrays an unwillingness or inability to take the disappointment seriously.37

A further subversion of Mark’s radical ending can be found in the idea that the women told no one “for the present,” a view that Juel rejects as having little support in Mark’s narrative. It nevertheless crops up frequently among interpreters across the centuries. 2. Discordant Interpretations and the Open Text. Another noteworthy characteristic to arise from the reception history of Mark 16:1–8 is the continuing discord among interpreters about its

36 Morna D. Hooker, Mark (London: A & C Black, 1991), 393; William R. Telford, The Theology of the Gospel of Mark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 150. 37 Juel, “A Disquieting Silence,” 4–5.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 29

meaning. As we have seen, this is not just a feature of contemporary biblical scholarship, but is evident in the earliest responses we have to the Markan text. This in itself calls into question any quest to find a single meaning of the narrative. Rather, as Frank Kermode concludes, “There can be no ending. Mark will continue to generate new readings. Readings will always be particular—and limited.”38 David Ford expresses a similar sentiment as follows: The biblical text itself is a new communicative performance which embraces fresh elements but still can only act as an indicator of the full richness to which it testifies. This very undetermination of the text opens the way for generation after generation of interpretation in many modes, from commentary and liturgy to drama, ethics and systematic theology.39

Mark’s open ending should therefore disconcert and challenge contemporary believers seeking to comprehend the significance of resurrection hope, as it has in previous generations. “The sound of silence” may at first glance seem paradoxical as a title. Yet we have seen that the silence of the women who came to the tomb to anoint Jesus has generated much noise. Amidst the harmonization and discord, we should not lose sight of the promise of resolution offered in the Gospel; but this resolution lies in the future beyond Mark’s narrative.

38

Kermode cited by Juel, “A Disquieting Silence,” 10. David Ford, “Dramatic Theology: York, Lambeth and Cambridge” in Sounding the Depths: Theology Through the Arts (ed. Jeremy Begbie; London: SCM, 2002), 75. My italics. 39

Resurrection Sounds: When Music Bears the Word THOMAS H. TROEGER Professor of Christian Communication Yale Divinity School At Easter, hymns and sacred arias can work together with Scripture texts to proclaim in fresh ways that Christ is risen. If we come with attentiveness to focus upon the words, phrases, meter, and melody, we can experience new depths, wonders, and glories.

T

here are high holy days in the church year when music bears the word more than the preaching and prayers. Easter is one of them. Music proclaims the good news of the risen Christ in two complementary ways. It carries a hymn or anthem text home to our hearts so that the words take on deeper meaning than if they were simply spoken. But music does more than enhance language. The sound of voices and instruments blending together is itself a form of sonic witness to the wonder of the resurrection. Easter music thus helps to overcome a major pastoral, theological problem that H. A. Williams identified many years ago in his book True Resurrection.1 Although I cannot now put my hands on the volume, it remains fresh in my memory. Williams observed that for many people the resurrection is primarily a past event and a future promise, but not a reality in their present life. My goal in this article is to model how preachers can draw upon the text and the music of hymns and sacred arias to proclaim anew that Christ is risen here and now.2 I begin with one of the most beloved Easter hymns in the English language. Depending on one’s tradition, there may be variations in the first line and in the order of the stanzas. For example, in the United Methodist hymnal it begins,“Christ, the Lord, is risen today,” while in the Presbyterian and Episcopal hymnals it starts,“Jesus Christ is risen today.” But in all the hymnals I own and in all the churches where I have sung it over the last sixty years, the text is set to “Easter Hymn” from Lyra Davidica, a book published in England in 1708. Congregations love to belt out its stirring “Alleluias.” Sometimes, we know a piece of the tradition so well that we assume we have mined all of its riches. It holds a warm place in our hearts, but it no longer engages our creative energies. This is

1

H. A. Williams, True Resurrection (Springfield, Ill.: Templegate, 1983). Portions of this article are adapted from Thomas H. Troeger, Wonder Reborn: Creating Sermons on Hymns, Music and Poetry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). Copyright © 2010 Oxford University Press. Used by permission. 2

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Interpretation 31

especially true of hymns and congregational songs. We must sing them on certain high and holy days or the congregation will feel they have not rightly celebrated the occasion, but we do not look to them to inspire fresh prayers and sermons. However, I have discovered that if I turn with an attentive mind and heart, slowing down, reading the text word by word, phrase by phrase, analyzing its metrical and rhetorical devices, humming the melody, paying close attention to what the music does with the poetry, then I begin to see depths, to hear wonders, and to sense glories that I had never before realized. Such is the case with this beloved Easter hymn. Most hymnals limit the hymn text to four or six stanzas, but the oldest version I find has ten stanzas, and that is the version I will work with: first, setting it in the context of the gospel accounts; next, providing a close theological and poetic analysis of the text; and finally, suggesting some ways one could effectively sing all ten stanzas on Easter Sunday or on other Sundays in Eastertide. 1. Christ, the Lord, is risen today, Alleluia! Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia! Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia! Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, Alleluia! 2. Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia! Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia! Lo! the Sun’s eclipse is over, Alleluia! Lo! He sets in blood no more, Alleluia! 3. Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia! Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia! Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia! Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia! 4. Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia! Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia! Once He died our souls to save, Alleluia! Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia! 5. Soar we now where Christ hath led, Alleluia! Following our exalted Head, Alleluia! Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia! Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia! 6. Hail, the Lord of earth and heaven, Alleluia! Praise to Thee by both be given, Alleluia!

32 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Thee we greet triumphant now, Alleluia! Hail, the resurrection day, Alleluia! 7. King of glory, Soul of bliss, Alleluia! Everlasting life is this, Alleluia! Thee to know, Thy power to prove, Alleluia! Thus to sing and thus to love, Alleluia! 8. Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia! Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia! Who endured the cross and grave, Alleluia! Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia! 9. But the pains that He endured, Alleluia! Our salvation have procured, Alleluia! Now above the sky He’s King, Alleluia! Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia! 10. Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia! Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia! Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia! Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia!3

I read the hymn aloud, and then turn to the gospel accounts of the resurrection. The first thing I note is how different in tone the biblical stories are from the celebratory character of the poetry. For if one places the gospel narratives side by side, many of them share a similar opening: grieving followers do not recognize the risen Christ. In our eagerness to get to the joy of Easter, we may skim over this important detail, and, as a result, we fail to see the extraordinary relevance of the resurrection stories to the sorrow of the world and the state of the church. Each story opens with Christ’s followers in grief and despair. When they awake on the first Sunday after Good Friday, the one thing they know with absolute certainty is that the world is sealed shut to hope. There is no exit from the despotic power of the Roman Empire and its collusion with repressive religion, and there is no entrance to a better future. It is a world of solid meaning, and the solid meaning is this: there is no exit, there is no entrance into a new creation. Not a single one of the resurrection stories begins with the words: “Christ the Lord is risen today” or “Jesus Christ is risen today.” Despite variations about this or that detail, the resurrection stories share in common a somber, sorrowful opening. In Mark, the women carry spices to anoint the cadaver of Jesus, and while they walk, wonder who will roll the stone away. In Luke, the disciples

3

This text is available to be printed at: http://www.hymns.me.uk/christ-the-lord-is-risen-today-hymn.htm.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 33

on the road to Emmaus lament to a stranger their loss of hope. In John, Mary Magdalene weeps outside the tomb, assuming the body has been stolen. In each case, the character or characters carry with them an assumptive world of solid meaning in which there is no door or window or crack for other possibilities to shine through. No wonder the women in Mark ask,“Who will roll away the stone?” (16:3). No wonder the disciples going to Emmaus lament,“. . . we had hoped he was the one to set Israel free” (Luke 24:21). No wonder Mary in the garden assumes that the person speaking to her must be a gardener who has moved the body to another location. In every case, their assumptive world adds up to a state of no exit, no entrance. No exit from grief, no entrance to joy. It is not unreasonable to speculate that this repeated pattern represents what first-century Christians may have often felt in light of Rome’s continuing tyranny and their rejection by the established religious authorities. But in every story of the first Easter, the enclosed world of grief and despair crumbles. The women in Mark discover the stone is rolled away. The two disciples invite the stranger in for a meal; when he breaks bread, their eyes are opened and they recognize him. Mary hears the supposed gardener call her by name, and she realizes it is her beloved teacher. The resurrection of Christ opens a way out where previously there was no exit; it opens a way in where there was no entrance. We come to realize that the way we see the world is not the final word on reality. At any moment, we may be as surprised by resurrection as the women carrying the spices to the tomb and wondering who will roll away the stone. We may be as surprised as the disciples in Emmaus when their eyes are opened by the one who blesses and breaks bread with them. We may be as surprised as Mary when she hears her name pronounced by the voice of the one she mourns. To the world, it looks as though there is no exit, no entrance. But faith in the resurrection reveals the world is wrong. Reality has possibilities we never dreamed of, including that new life can spring from death. The risen Christ discloses the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities that set the atoms spinning, the creation breathing, and the heart sighing and sensing how love and grace persist beyond every human effort to kill and bury them. Christ teaches about the resilience of the divine vitalities before his death and resurrection. On Palm Sunday, the beginning of Passion Week, Christ rides into town, and when the crowds in the street begin to sing his praises, the religious authorities, according to Luke, tell him to order his disciples to stop. Christ responds that if his followers were silent,“the stones would shout out” (Luke 19:40). The idea that the stones would shout is not original with Jesus or with Luke, who ascribes these

34 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

words to him. Some of the psalms are filled with verses that exhort sun and moon and stars, earth and sea monsters, hills and trees to praise God. The psalms suggest that the natural order itself gives witness to the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities that set the whole creation humming and buzzing in the first place. In the presence of the Christ through whom all things were made, it is not possible to kill or to muffle the praise and gratitude that arise from the human heart and even from the rocks. That is why we cannot refrain from the worship of God and from living a life of hope. If we failed to make such a witness, the rocks would drown us out. Like them, like the sun and moon and stars, like the depths of the ocean and the sea monsters, we are alive with the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities that move through the cells and tissue of our human bodies. We feel that resilience every day when we awake, knowing that “Each breath is borrowed air/not ours to keep and own,”4 and we trust that after our final breath, the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities will transform us in ways that are in complete harmony with the grace and love of the risen Christ. Our beloved Easter hymn,“Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” puts us in touch with those divine vitalities by affirming that resurrection is not a one-time event locked away in history. The hymn does not put resurrection in the past or future tense, but in the present tense, suggesting that Christ is risen at the very moment of its singing, and that here and now the world of grief and despair is broken open again and again. The hymn is not entirely original with Charles Wesley. It is based on a fourteenth-century Latin carol from Bohemia: Surrexit Christus hodie. The first English translation appeared in London in 1708 in Lyrica Davidica. Wesley’s version was first published in 1739, but given the joy and conviction with which most congregations sing the hymn, a newcomer to the faith might conclude that it was sung on the very first Easter! I went online to find the original text of “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” and found the tenstanza version printed above, now in the public domain and not requiring copyright permissions to be reproduced in a bulletin or insert. Although the poem uses the past tense in a few stanzas, whenever the past tense occurs, it is about Christ’s death, not about the resurrection. We do not sing, “Christ the Lord Was Risen that Day,” but rather, “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.” This proclamation of resurrection in the present is immediately followed by an exhortation to the natural order to sing, an exhortation that resonates with the psalms and with Christ’s declaration that the rocks will shout if his followers are silenced: Earth and heaven in chorus say, Alleluia! Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia! Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply, Alleluia!

4 Thomas H. Troeger, Above the Moon Earth Rises: Hymn Texts, Anthems, and Poems for a New Creation (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 8.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 35

The hymn throbs with the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities. The hymn raises us out of a state of grief and despair. I went through the ten-stanza version, and wrote down every present tense declaration about the resurrection. Here they are, in the order in which they appear in the original: Christ the Lord is risen today Love’s redeeming work is done Lives again our glorious king Soar we now where Christ has led Made like him, like him we rise Thee we greet triumphant now Everlasting life is this Jesus Christ is risen today

Wesley’s insistence on using the present tense for resurrection represents a profound theological insight. It rescues us from one of the church’s chief afflictions: our propensity to turn faith into archaeology. Becoming a Christian means taking an excursion back to ancient Palestine, where we revisit Jesus as though he were fixed in the past. To feel the difference between a faith stuck in the past and a faith alive in the present, imagine if all Wesley’s present tense words were to be replaced with the past tense so that they read like this: Christ the Lord was risen back then, Love’s redeeming work was done. Lived again our glorious king. Soared we then where Christ had led, Made like him, like him we rose. Thee we hailed triumphant then, Everlasting life was this, Jesus Christ was risen back then.

Of course, Christ rose back then, but Christ is not bound to the past. Resurrection is not confined to what is over and done with because “Christ the Lord is risen today.” When I quoted all the present tense verbs from the hymn, I left out the “Alleluias” so your eye could easily catch the present tense in each line. But it is theologically significant that every single line of the hymn ends in “Alleluia.” When resurrection happens in the present moment, the irrepressible resilience of the divine vitalities bursts forth in us. We cannot sing more than seven syllables without breaking into an “Alleluia,” for resurrection faith dances with praise: Everlasting life is this, Alleluia!

36 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Thee to know, Thy power to prove, Alleluia! Thus to sing and thus to love, Alleluia!

When Christ the Lord is risen today, a new way of being and acting—everlasting life—comes alive in us here and now. Instead of being paralyzed in a state of no exit/no entrance, no exit from despair/no entrance to joy, we give witness to what the rocks would shout if we kept still. And what would the rocks shout? The rocks would tell the world there is an exit, there is a way out of the wounded, bloody, and chaotic mess we have made of God’s creation. The rocks would tell the world: There is an entrance into a new way of living and being, there is an entrance to a mode of existence that will stop the religious violence and feed our spiritual hunger. The rocks would tell the world: Follow Christ and you will find the exit and the entrance. Follow Christ and tend to the broken, the hungry, the ill, the imprisoned, and the despairing. Follow Christ and your whole life will turn into an Alleluia! But on Easter Sunday, we do not let the rocks have the last word. Instead, we sing “Christ the Lord is risen today! Alleluia!” If one preaches on the full text of the hymn, it would be effective after the sermon to do all the stanzas, possibly using varied instruments to accompany different stanzas. Many of our churches have numbers of young people who play instruments well enough that they could easily accompany the hymn and/or play the descant to some verses. See, for example, the descant that is printed in The Presbyterian Hymnal.5 I can imagine trumpets on the opening and closing stanzas and in between using different woodwinds or stringed instruments. Another way to use the hymn would be to break it up into three sections, preceding each group of stanzas with a brief homily based on its theological affirmations. Or one could build sermons on the biblical allusions of the stanzas, or set up a dialogue between the gospel accounts of resurrection and the unfettered joy of the hymn, much as I have done in this article. One might lift out a single line of the hymn and use it to structure the whole sermon. For example, I think the final line of stanza 5 is rich with compressed homiletical potential: “Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!” In one line, the poet suggests the whole drama of holy week, its suffering (“the cross”), its grief and despair (“the grave”), and the way that resurrection opens that closed world to breathtaking new possibilities (“the skies”). Even if your church does not sing all the stanzas, it would be good to print the full text of the hymn on the bulletin cover or as an insert, to encourage people to take it home and put it on their refrigerators and to read a stanza every day until Eastertide gives way to Pentecost. Even congregants who are not very musical or who only come on the high holy days might find the memory of the sung Alleluias sounding in their heads and the poetry working its way into their hearts.

5 The Presbyterian Hymnal: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1990), hymn number 123.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 37

So far, I have been drawing primarily on the words of a hymn text to revitalize our sense of the risen Christ, present with us here and now. This is an effective way to use a hymn, especially one so well known and beloved. But another approach might draw more heavily on the musical setting than on the text. Consider, for example, the ebullient seventeenth-century Dutch melody “Vruechten,” which appears with two utterly different but equally strong Easter texts in The Hymnal 1982, Episcopal (no. 192 “This Joyful Easter Tide”)6 and The Presbyterian Hymnal (no. 105 “Because You Live, O Christ”).7 Even if the congregation does not know it, this is music that sets the soul dancing. Whatever one’s denomination, a preacher could work out a sermon along the following lines. Begin by acknowledging that resurrection may awaken music before it awakens language. Many people come to church on Easter because they love the sound of the joyful music, and that is a phenomenon preachers ought never to put down. As Paul the apostle says, “. . . the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words” (Rom 8:26). Those sighs can sometimes be sighs of joy, sighs awakened by the unspeakable wonder of Christ alive among us, sighs that find sonic manifestation in music. So, imagine a sermon that begins something like this: “How does resurrection sound in your heart? What kind of melody lifts you up at the great glad news that Christ is risen? Perhaps it is a melody like this.” (I hear an organ playing through “Vruechten,” but without words. Next, the preacher continues to reflect on the music.) The musical setting starts with those wonderful upward notes, the melody leaping up and the heart cheerfully following. Resurrection is sometimes like that for us. It awakens in us a springing, a flowering, a bursting forth, a tune blossoming in the heart, a dance sweeping through the soul, or an astonishment stretching the mind beyond every rational category. Because our response to resurrection may be a melody before it is a word does not mean it will never crystallize into language. Two different hymnals take the same resurrection tune that we have just heard and supply different lyrics. The poet George Woodward in The Hymnal 1982 sings: This joyful Eastertide, a way with sin and sorrow! My Love, the Crucified, hath sprung to life this morrow.8

The poet Shirley Erena Murray in The Presbyterian Hymnal sings: Because you live, O Christ, The garden of the world has come to flower

6 The Hymnal 1982 according to the use of The Episcopal Church (New York: The Church Hymnal Corporation, 1985), hymn number 192, “This Joyful Easter Tide,” lyrics by George Woodward. 7 The Presbyterian Hymnal: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1990), hymn number 105, “Because You Live, O Christ,” lyrics by Shirley Erena Murray. 8 Woodward, “This Joyful Easter Tide,” stanza 1.

38 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

The darkness of the tomb Is flooded with Your resurrection power.9

I am not sure I would choose one hymn text over the other. I love that word “Eastertide” in Woodward’s verse. It sounds a tad old fashioned, but it is the name for the season from Easter Sunday to Pentecost in the church year. The word attracts me because it suggests Christ’s resurrection has brought in a tide, a tide of love, a tide of grace, and a tide of new life. Of course, tides come in and go out and come in again. But I think of Eastertide as a high tide, a welcome tide, the kind of thing that Murray describes: “The darkness of the tomb/Is flooded with/Your resurrection power.” For Murray, it is a “flood,” and for Woodward it is a “tide.” There is buoyancy in both metaphors, a lifting up. I think, for example, of a boat that has run aground in low tide and that then floats freely as the tide floods in. The preacher asks, “Is that what you need: a resurrection tide that floods and lifts your hearts that have run aground on doubt or fear?” (Have the keyboard instrument play the setting through once again with no singing. Let the music provide the congregation a breathing space to reflect on how they need to answer the question the preacher has raised.) The poet Woodward sings in the second stanza: Death’s flood hath lost its chill, since Jesus crossed the river: Lord of all life, from ill my passing life deliver.10

Woodward pictures death as a river, a metaphor that has roots in the ancient myths and stories of many cultures. By his crucifixion, Christ crossed the river of death, but now by his resurrection, he has come back over to be hailed as the “Lord of life,” and as a result “Death’s flood hath lost its chill.” These are powerful images that resonate with Paul’s interpretation of baptism as a way of dying and rising with Christ so that “. . . we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4). Murray sings: Because You live, O Christ, The spirit bird of hope is freed for flying; Our cages of despair No longer keep us closed and life denying.11

Murray gives us another set of images to help us feel the impact of Christ’s resurrection on our lives here and now. Instead of death’s chill, she pictures the human condition as one of imprisonment.

9

Murray, “Because You Live, O Christ,” stanza 1. Woodward, “This Joyful Easter Tide,” stanza 2. 11 Murray, “Because You Live, O Christ,” stanza 2. 10

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 39

Before resurrection, we are in “cages of despair” that “keep us closed and life denying.” But because Christ is now alive, “The spirit bird of hope is freed for flying.” How sharp the contrast between these images and the devastating statement that the two disciples on the road to Emmaus make to Christ before they recognize him: “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.’’ (Luke 24:21) There is no sadder phrase in any language than “we had hoped,” for it indicates that hope is now a thing of the past, and when hope is left behind, then the present and future are indeed “closed and life denying.” The preacher raises the questions: “What do you need this Easter from the risen Christ? Do you need to sense anew ‘[h]ow death’s flood hath lost its chill?’ Or do you need to see once again that ‘[t]he spirit bird of hope is freed for flying?’ Or do you need them both?” (Once again, give the congregation breathing time to reflect on your questions as they listen to “Vruechten.” This time, I suggest playing the melody line only on a solo wind instrument—flute or clarinet would be ideal. Varying the timbre through the use of different instruments provides varied slants on the melody, just as the vivid images from the hymn texts are providing varied perspectives on the meaning of resurrection.) The poet Woodward sings in the third and final stanza: My flesh in hope shall rest, and for a season slumber, till trump from east to west shall wake the dead in number.12

In Woodward’s final stanza, Christ’s resurrection gives the poet faith to face his own death with a profound equanimity of soul: “My flesh in hope shall rest,/and for a season slumber.” Death is not a chilling river, but a period of sleep. The word “slumber” is often associated with a baby’s deep sleep, as in the phrase “a slumbering infant.” Thus, the line implies a complete confidence in the care of our fathering, mothering God. The tide of Easter has now suffused the poet’s heart and mind so that he can slumber in the sure and confident hope of the resurrection, when the “trump from east to west/shall wake the dead in number.” There is an allusion here to the apostle Paul, who proclaims: “The trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed” (1 Cor 15:52). Murray sings in the third stanza: Because you live, O Christ, the rainbow of your peace will span creation,

12

Woodward, “This Joyful Easter Tide,” stanza 3.

40 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

The colors of Your love, Will draw all humankind to adoration.13

While Woodward invokes the trumpet from 1 Corinthians, Murray calls upon the rainbow that God places in the sky following Noah’s flood: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. (Gen 9:13–15)

The combination of the rainbow image in this final stanza and the restored garden image in Murray’s first stanza suggest that the resurrection is interwoven with God’s restoration of the entire creation to its intended wholeness. The preacher asks, “What do you need to see or hear this Easter: the rainbow of God’s peace or the distinct notes of Easter’s joyful trumpet or perhaps both?” (Play “Vruechten” one final time without words, using a trumpet or if not available, a trumpet stop on the organ.) The poet Woodward offers as a refrain after every stanza: Had Christ, that once was slain ne’er burst his three-day prison, our faith had been in vain; but now is Christ a risen, arisen, arisen, arisen.14

Woodward’s refrain echoes the apostle Paul’s reasoning about the centrality of resurrection to Christian faith: “If Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain” (1 Cor 15:14). The poet repeats the word “arisen” four times, making it a clarion call to confident faith in the resurrection. Each time we repeat the word while singing, the accented syllable falls on a note higher up the scale so that the musical pattern gives expression to the resurrection of Christ and to the ascending joy and hope that lift our hearts. Murray sings in her refrain: The stone has rolled away And death cannot imprison! O sing this Easter Day, For Jesus Christ has risen, has risen, has risen, has risen!15

Murray describes the stone rolled away, a detail that in one form or another is included in all four

13 14 15

Murray, “Because You Live, O Christ,” stanza 3. Woodward, “This Joyful Easter Tide,” refrain. Murray, “Because You Live, O Christ,” refrain.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 41

gospel accounts of the empty tomb. But she does not write as if the resurrection were only in the past, back in ancient Palestine. Instead of singing,“The stone had rolled away/And death could not imprison!” she sings: “The stone has rolled away/And death cannot imprison!” In a similar fashion Woodward sings,“now is Christ arisen.” Both celebrate the resurrection as an event in the life of faith that happens here and now. The preacher continues, “What do you need to reclaim this Easter: Paul’s assurance that your faith is not in vain or a vision of a stone rolled away that raises you to new life with Christ or both? Whatever your answer, come and celebrate that Christ indeed has risen, has risen, has risen, has risen!” (The keyboard instrument then introduces the hymn setting, and this time the entire congregation joins in singing either the Woodward or the Murray hymn text, depending upon which one they have available or the one that is most congruent with the congregation’s theology.) Another possibility is to sing one of the hymns all the way through, then create an Easter prayer of thanksgiving for new life in Christ that employs images from the hymn text not sung. Or the congregation could sing them both, separating them with prayers or Scripture readings. In whatever way the hymns are used, they serve as midrashim on the Easter story, demonstrating how the Easter story is retold and relived in our present life as well as in the past and the future. Here is one more way to draw on music to develop sermons for Eastertide. Instead of using one setting with two strong, complementary texts in dialogue with each other, take a single resurrection theme and explore its meaning through contrasting musical idioms. For example, consider the theme of “walking with Christ.” I can imagine a sermon in two parts that gives two radically different perspectives on that walk: sometimes we need the risen Christ at our side, and sometimes we need to catch up with Christ who is out in front of us. The first need is captured perfectly in the great African American spiritual,“I Want Jesus to Walk with Me,”16 and the second finds breathless ebullience in J. S. Bach’s “We Hasten with Weak yet Eager Steps, O Jesus,” a duet for soprano and alto from Cantata 78.17 This duet requires accomplished singers, but I have heard it performed well by amateurs as well as professionals. If the congregation lacks such singers but is in a college or university town, one might find young musicians who could handle the parts well. I can imagine pairing the spiritual with the Emmaus road story (Luke 24:13–34). I would start the sermon with the whole congregation singing the spiritual. It is the perfect accompaniment to Luke’s portrayal of two disciples so devastated by the crucifixion that they do not even recognize the risen Christ. The spiritual cries out to be sung at a tempo slow enough to convey the weight of the words—“my trials,” “when my heart is almost breaking,” “when I’m in trouble,” and “when my head is bowed in sorrow.” The slow tempo and the minor key combine to resonate with the disciples’

16

The Presbyterian Hymnal: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs, hymn number 363. I have found the following book to be the most thorough and helpful analysis of Bach’s cantatas in English: Alfred Dürr, The Cantatas of J. S. Bach: With Their Librettos in German-English Parallel Text (trans. Richard D. P. Jones; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). A non-specialist will find the book lucid and readable. It includes a close musical analysis of nearly every movement of all the cantatas. For more detailed instructions on how to preach on Bach’s music, see Thomas H. Troeger, Wonder Reborn: Creating Sermons on Hymns, Music and Poetry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). 17

42 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

heavy hearts in the Emmaus story. The sermon could develop the theme of the risen Christ walking with us in our sorrow, and our failure to recognize who our fellow traveler is. Then there comes the dramatic shift in the story and in the sermon: the moment when the stranger takes, blesses, breaks, and gives bread to the disciples, and they recognize he is the Christ. Note how dramatic and energetic their response! Though Christ vanishes,“That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem” (Luke 24:33). Instead of the slow and languorous pace of their heavy hearts, I imagine them half jogging, half power-walking through the dark, sometimes stumbling on a stone or root that the stars and the moon fail to illumine, but pushing on eagerly through the night. They have been turned from Christ’s mourners to Christ’s followers. Listen to Bach portray the way the heart hastens toward the risen Christ. Although the lyrics do not literally retell the Emmaus story, the ebullient, energetic music captures the spirit of joy that fills those disciples as they rush back to Jerusalem to announce to their friends that Christ is risen indeed. The lyrics and music together paint a picture of disciples who are enthusiastically running to Jesus for help: “We hasten with weak yet eager steps, O Jesus, O Master, for help to you.” The soprano and alto sing in canon, one following the other with the same melody, suggesting in musical terms that they are following Christ. The buoyant music could be a movie score for people running along a path to catch up with a friend who moves ahead more easily and swiftly than they do. The singers’ sprightly canon stops for a moment, and they call out together to their Lord,“Ah, hear! Ah, hear! Ah hear!” (Ach höre! in German.) The first two “Ah, hears” feature a musical rest between the interjection “Ah” and the verb “hear.” It is as if Christ’s followers have stopped running for a second and are so out of breath they can only pant one word at a time while they call to their Master. But on the third “Ah hear,” there is no musical pause. They are panting less now, and they take off again as the vigorous canon returns. Bach paints through music how joy, exertion, exhaustion, and renewed joy flow together in the human heart as it hastens toward the risen Christ. We do not run continuously at a steady pace. Sometimes our prayer is buoyant and robust, but then we slow down and call out hoping to be heard by the One we are trying to follow. We are very much like the psalmist who exclaims: “‘Come,’ my heart says,‘seek his face!’ Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help” (Ps 27: 8–9a). As you listen to the aria, I invite you to imagine yourself one of the runners in the aria who is praying “We hasten with weak yet eager steps.” Next recall those times when, exhausted, you have called out: “Ah, hear! Ah, hear! Ah hear!” Then finally let yourself pray for the confidence to say, as the psalmist does several verses later in the psalm,“I believe that I shall see the goodness of the

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 43

Lord in the land of the living” (Ps 27:13). The congregation listens to the aria: Wir eilen mit schwachen, doch emsigen Schritten (We hasten with weak yet eager steps) O Jesu, o Meister zu helfen zu dir (O Jesus, O Master, for help to You) Du suchest die Kranken und Irrenden treulich. (You faithfully seek the sick and straying) Ach höre, wie wir (Ah, hear, how we) Die Stimme erheben, um Hilfe zu bitten! (Lift up our voices to pray for help!) Es sei uns dein gnädiges Antlitz erfreulich! (May Your gracious countenance be gratifying to us!)18

Sometimes our hearts sing with the sorrow of the spiritual, sometimes with the joy of the Bach aria. These contrasting musical idioms allow us to enter into the fullness of the meaning of resurrection: the risen Christ walks with us along our pilgrim journey, and the risen Christ moves out ahead of us beckoning us to follow in joy and faith. Resurrection sounds though preaching and worship as music bears the word in ways that help us encounter the risen Christ as a living reality in our midst.

18

Dürr, The Cantatas of J. S. Bach, 523.

The Resurrection of Jesus in Art ULRICH LUZ Professor of New Testament, Emeritus Universität Bern, Switzerland In the New Testament, the resurrection of Jesus is not described as a visible event, and for this reason, the resurrection was not represented directly in visual arts for about 1,000 years. Direct representations of the resurrection as an event appeared only after 1000 C.E. They were concrete, and they objectivized and historicized the resurrection in a problematical way.

THE VISIBILITY OF THE RESURRECTION In the Orthodox Liturgy of the “Great Week,” the Passion Week, are many dramatic elements, at least in Greek villages. Many events of the passion are “actualized” by the congregation: The cross is erected in the church; the epitaph of Jesus is decorated with flowers and then carried through the streets of the village with mourning. These and other dramatic elements add to the liturgy of the Great Week a touch of a passion play. In some Greek villages, it even happens that Judas is punished for his treason: a puppet bearing his name is burnt with great ado. However, nothing like this happens with Easter. Rather, at midnight the priest carrying the Easter-light comes out of the church and proclaims to the waiting congregation that Jesus is risen from the dead. This corresponds to the NT texts. Let me start by recalling the oldest Easter text, the pre-Pauline creed of 1 Cor 15:3–5, that Paul handed down to the Corinthians: “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and was buried, he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve.” Here, we have a temporal sequence of events: the death, the burial, the resurrection of Jesus, and lastly his appearances. Nothing seems to disturb this temporal sequence, except for the one singularity that in the Greek text, the temporal forms that are used for the events are the aorist in three cases: for the death, the burial, and the appearances, indicating an event that happened once. For the resurrection, the perfect is used, indicating not so much that something happened once, but rather the lasting effect of a completed event: a reality that remains valid in the present. When we turn to the gospels, we can make a similar, even more impressive observation. Mark, our oldest gospel, narrates the death of Jesus and his burial. But then, it does not continue with a resurrection narrative. Rather, in his last text, the story of the discovery of the empty sepulcher, he

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Interpretation 45

narrates how the women going to the tomb in order to anoint the body of Jesus find it open and empty, and they were alarmed and shocked. Then an angel liberated them from their fear and told them, “Be not alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised, he is not here” (Mark 16:6). The women did not discuss the problem of why the tomb was empty like modern people would have done; they did not formulate their explanations and their conclusions; instead, they listened to the message of the angel. The resurrection proper is not narrated in spite of the fact that the angel looks back on it as an event: he has been raised. The angel then foretells the appearances of Jesus in Galilee. Then the Gospel of Mark ends abruptly. In the other gospels, it is similar. The death, the burial, and the appearances of Jesus are narrated—but the resurrection is not narrated. Matthew comes closest to a narration of Jesus’ resurrection, because he introduces the figures of the soldier-guards of the sepulcher into his narrative (27:62–66; 28:4, 11–15). They could have been valuable witnesses of the resurrection of Jesus. However, Matthew tells only that there was a great earthquake and that an angel came down from heaven and rolled away the stone.“For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead” (28:4). At that time Jesus had been raised already, but Matthew tells nothing about it. The mere appearance of the angel caused a shock to the guards, so that they became as dead. This is the reason why they could not function as witnesses, neither for the resurrection nor for the theft of Jesus’ body. Thus, Matthew comes closest to a concept of the resurrection of Jesus as a visible event that could have been attested by neutral witnesses. But he stops before taking this step. Therefore, we have to say: In the NT, the resurrection of Jesus is no visible event happening in space and time so that it could be described by neutral witnesses. In Matthew’s Gospel, different from the later Gospel of Peter, the Jewish elders are not neutral witnesses of the resurrection, in spite of the fact that they knew that their explanation of the empty sepulcher was a lie. The resurrection of Jesus is an event, but evidently an event of a very special character. This is important both for the representations of the resurrection of Jesus in visual arts and for our modern discussion as to whether the resurrection of Jesus was an “historical event” or not. We find the first description of the resurrection of Jesus as an event in the apocryphal Gospel of Peter, probably written shortly before 150 C.E. It is not fully preserved to us—all that has come down to us is a long fragment of the Passion Narrative and two or three smaller fragments. This gospel clearly presupposes the Synoptic Gospels. Its author knew their texts more or less by heart— this is the easiest explanation for the numerous verbal allusions to the other gospels, particularily to the Gospel according to Matthew.1 The resurrection narrative of the Gospel presupposes the Matthean traditions about the soldier-guards (27:62–66). It describes the resurrection of Jesus in mythical and cosmic dimensions. I present the text in the translation of Raymond Brown:2

1 I follow the common opinion about date and sources of the Gospel presented, e.g., by Hans Josef Klauck, Apokryphe Evangelien: Eine Einführung (Stuttgart: Kath. Bibelwerk, 2002), 110–18 (ET: Apocryphal Gospels (London: T & T Clark International, 2003). The—at one time popular—hypothesis of John Dominic Crossan (The Cross that Spoke: The Origins of the Passion Narrative [San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988]) that the original layers of the Gospel of Peter antedate the Synoptic Gospels and go back to the first century has found hardly any followers outside the United States. 2 As found on http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/gospelpeter-brown.html. Accessed 3/15/2010.

46 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

[32] And having rolled a large stone, all who were there, together with the centurion and the soldiers, placed it against the door of the burial place. [33] And they marked it with seven wax seals; and having pitched a tent there, they safeguarded it. [34] But early when the Sabbath was dawning, a crowd came from Jerusalem and the surrounding area in order that they might see the sealed tomb. [35] But in the night in which the Lord’s day dawned, when the soldiers were safeguarding it two by two in every watch, there was a loud voice in heaven; [36] and they saw that the heavens were opened and that two males who had much radiance had come down from there and come near the sepulcher. [37] But that stone which had been thrust against the door, having rolled by itself, went a distance off the side; and the sepulcher opened, and both the young men entered. [38] And so those soldiers, having seen, awakened the centurion and the elders (for they too were present, safeguarding). [39] And while they were relating what they had seen, again they see three males who have come out from they sepulcher, with the two supporting the other one, and a cross following them, [40] and the head of the two reaching unto heaven, but that of the one being led out by a hand by them going beyond the heavens. [41] And they were hearing a voice from the heavens saying, “Have you made proclamation to the fallen-asleep?” [42] And an obeisance was heard from the cross, “Yes.” [43] And so those people were seeking a common perspective to go off and make these things clear to Pilate; [44] and while they were still considering it through, there appear again the opened heavens and a certain man having come down and entered into the burial place. [45] Having seen these things, those around the centurion hastened at night before Pilate (having left the sepulcher which they were safeguarding) and described all the things that they indeed had seen, agonizing greatly and saying: “Truly he was God’s Son.”

With this, the narrator resumes traditions he knows from the Synoptic Gospels (= Matt 27:54). Pilate, to whom “those around the centurion,” i.e., the Roman soldiers and the Jewish elders, had gone, answers them with the well known Matthean saying: “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves” (= Matt 27:24). The elders, afraid of the revenge of the Jewish people who are seen here as having a potentially friendly or at least a neutral attitude towards Jesus, then ask Pilate to order the soldiers to keep silence over what they have seen (= Matt 27:11–15). The situation now is ready for Mary Magdalene to go to the sepulcher (= Matt 28:1). The “certain man” had already come down from heaven and is waiting her in the sepulcher. The resurrection of Jesus is described here as an “historical” event in mythical dimensions. We have for the first time neutral witnesses who have seen it: the Roman soldiers and the Jewish elders. The enemies of Jesus—in the Gospel of Peter, both the Jewish leaders and the Roman authorities— act against better knowledge and against visible evidence. The Gospel of Peter could have been further developed and embellished in later popular apocryphal gospels. This, however, was hardly the case. It could have become the starting point of a tradition of representation of the resurrection of Jesus in Christian visual arts. But for about 1,000 years,

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 47

it did not become so. For me, it is interesting to see to what extent this gospel was not received by the later church tradition, but rather passed by.3 It hardly left any traces in later Christian writings and remained largely unknown until it was rediscovered towards the end of the nineteenth century in a manuscript of the fifth or sixth century in the tomb of a monk in Akhmim, Upper-Egypt.

THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS IN VISUAL ARTS4 Early Christian visual art does not know representations of the resurrection of Jesus as an event. Instead, there were different other possibilities of visualizing the resurrection. Firstly, artists could use symbols for the resurrection. Such a symbol is the “Invincible Cross”—the cross in the shape of an imperial standard with a garland (a sign of victory) encircling the Greek letters X and R. Another symbol is the eagle, which is not only a biblical symbol of God but also a symbol of the imperial power. Both symbols demonstrate the interrelation between Roman imperial power and the power of the risen Christ in post-Constantinian time. Another symbol of the resurrection is the phoenix. This is—according to the Greek Physiologos, a small and extremely popular booklet interpreting animal symbols in the light of the Bible and legendary traditions—a beautiful bird existing in Egypt that is able to burn itself and to regenerate itself out of the worms of its ashes. Another animal symbolizing the resurrection of Jesus is the lion, symbolizing according to the Physiologos, both the victorious lion of Judah and the dying and living Christ; it was said that a lion while sleeping in his cave keeps his eyes open.5 This leads us to a second way of representing the resurrection of Jesus. According to the biblical tradition, the resurrection of Jesus is no “visible” event in spatial and temporal dimensions in the sense that it could be testified by neutral witnesses. But there are two kinds of events that can be attested by witnesses who were skeptical and became believers of the risen Jesus through what happened to them. These events are not identical with the resurrection of Jesus but are, so to speak, its consequences. I speak about the women visiting the empty sepulcher on Easter morning and about the appearances of the risen Jesus to the disciples in Judea and in Galilee. These events could be represented and were represented by artists already in the fourth and fifth century. They point to the resurrection of Jesus. Such representations were very popular both in Eastern and Western Christian art. There is no biblical narrative of an appearance of the risen Jesus that was not painted in various ways. However, I choose as an example an early book illustration representing the women visiting the tomb, the famous Rabula Codex, written and painted in Eastern Syria around 586 (figure 1). This painting consists of two parts: the crucifixion of Jesus in the upper part and the women

3 Probably independent from the Gospel of Peter is Codex Bobbiensis, a Latin manuscript of the fourth century (Nestle–Aland: siglum k). To Mark 16:3, it adds: “ . . . and angels descended from heavens and raised him up in the brightness of the living God and immediately they ascended to the paradise with Him and immediately there was light. . . .” 4 The two most important books on the subject are older German books: Hubert Schrade, Ikonographie der christlichen Kunst. Die Sinngehalte und Darstellungsformen, vol. 1: Die Auferstehung Christi (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1932) and Gertrud Schiller, Ikonographie der Christlichen Kunst, vol. 3: Die Auferstehung und Erhöhung Christi (Gütersloh: G. Mohn 2, 1986). As far as I know, only vols. 1 and 2 (on Incarnation and Passion) of this invaluable work have been translated into English. Both works contain a huge collection of photographs. A very short survey is given in my commentary on Matthew: Ulrich Luz, Matthew 21–28 (trans. James E. Crouch; Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 600–602. Also useful for photographs is http://www.bible-art.info/Resurrection.htm. and valuable collections in http://www.silk.net/RelEd/bibleart.htm and http://www.artbible.info/. 5 Physiologos, chs. 7 and 1.

48 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

visiting the empty tomb in the lower. Both parts belong together and interpret each another. Both illustrate that the crucifixion and the resurrection belong together in the ancient and medieval church and cannot be separated. The crucified Jesus is always identical with the risen Jesus and the risen Jesus is always the crucified Jesus. Good Friday and Easter overlap in paintings and can be seen simultaneously—e.g., on altarpaintings. In the Rabula Codex, the crucifixion of Jesus forms the center of the page. But who is this crucified Christ? He hangs at the cross—remember the lion!—with open eyes. He is represented as the living Logos whose body remains alive. The sun symbolizes his divine nature and the moon his human nature. The sun is well known to the spectators as an Easter symbol (cf. Fig. 1. Crucifixion and the Women at the Tomb from the Rabula Mark 16:2). Unlike the two robbers, Jesus Gospels. Zagba on the Euphrates, Syria, ca. 586 C.E. Ms. Plut. 1, 56, f13r. Location: Biblioteca Laurenziana, Florence, Italy. Photo wears a purple robe with gold stripes, a credit: Scala/Art Resource, N.Y. symbol of his heavenly kingship. The other figures around the cross illustrate the painter’s “synoptic” view of the crucifixion: on the left,6 we find Mary and the beloved disciple (John 19:25–27), and on the right the three women of Matt 27:55ff. In the middle of the picture, under the cross, soldiers are casting lots for his garment. From the left, the man designated in Greek for the first time as “Longinos” thrusts his spear into Jesus’ side (John 19:34). From the right, the mocker known later as Stephaton offers Jesus the sponge with vinegar (Mark 15:36; Matt 27:48). Is Jesus still alive, as Matt 27:48 would lead us to expect, or is he already dead, as John 19:34 presupposes? The painting leaves this question undecided. Jesus, the risen Lord of the Universe, is crucified and living. The lower part of the painting shows again a “synoptic” version of the empty-sepulcher story. In the center, we see the sepulcher, painted not as a cave, but as a monument according to the model of the anastasis-monument that was erected in the post-Constantinian Holy Sepulcher Church in Jerusalem at its place. Flashes of light radiate through the open doors of the monument.

6

The directions are from the point of view of the spectator.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 49

The soldiers in front of it are falling down like dead according to Matt 28:4; one of them is running away out of fear of the light. On the left side, the angel explains to the two Marys—once more the painter follows the Matthean tradition (Matt 28:1) and not the Markan tradition (16:1) of three women—what happened and what they now have to do. On the right side, the next episode of the Matthean narrative is painted: Jesus appears to the two women (Matt 28:9ff.). The whole painting is a testimony of the faith of the Syrian Church, as it is summarized by the Church Father Ephrem: “He mounted the throne and ruled from Golgotha.”7 The third way of indirectly representing the resurrection of Jesus are representations of the descent of Jesus into Hades and of the liberation of the OT—just and pious people from their captivity between Good Friday and Easter morning. Perhaps 1 Pet 4:6 is a real NT testimony for this idea. In the history of interpretation from the second century onward, texts like Matt 12:40; 27:52; Eph 4:9ff; 1 Pet 3:19ff; and various OT psalms were also taken as biblical proof-texts for the descensus ad infernos. In the second century, this idea was widespread. A very detailed and influential description of what was happening during the descent of Christ to Hades can be found in the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus (chs. 17–27), dating back at least to the middle of the second century.8 Artistic representations of the descent are comparatively late; the first examples are around 700 C.E. These soon became popular both in the Eastern and in the Western church. In the iconography of the Eastern church, this type of icon received a kind of canonical dignity and is simply called Anastasis. There are different types — one illustrates the descent of Christ to Hades and his victory over Satan and Hades; another, his ascent into Heaven with the OT fathers. Both of these illustrate well the identity of the death of Jesus and Easter in the faith of the early church: Jesus’ death is victory over the death; his descent into Hades and his ascent to Paradise are ultimately identical. I select as an example a Russian Anastasis icon from the fourteenth century (figure 2). This Anastasis, painted in the style of the school of Pskov and under the influence of Teofan the Greek, is extremely intensive in colors. Christ, in red clothes, in a black

7

Fig. 2. Descent into Hell, Pskov School, 14th Century, Russian State Museum, St. Petersburg.

Ephrem Syrus, Contra Haeresis 25:2 = CSCO 170:92.15ff. Cf. Klauck, Apokryphe Evangelien, 118–31. The text of this Gospel exists in many variants and was continuously developing, so that it is difficult to date single text-passages exactly. 8

50 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Mandorla in the center, is full of power and strength. He is ascending to heaven; the icon belongs to the ascent-type. This is strongly indicated by his stepping upwards and by the ascending lines under the two side-figures. He reaches his hands to the forefather Adam on the left and to the foremother Eve on the right, taking them with him. Waiting behind them are the just kings, prophets, and saints of the OT. All mythological elements are omitted. On the top of the icon is a kind of Deesis-scene with Saint Nicolas (instead of Christ) in the center—very unusual for this type of icon. The fourth type symbolically or indirectly representing the resurrection of Jesus are typological representations, using OT types instead of Christ. They, too, were very common, particularly in the West. The most common types are Jonah and Samson. The former goes back to Matt 12:40; Jonah stays for three days and nights in the belly of the fish. The latter recalls various biblical scenes, most importantly, Samson’s opening the gates of Gaza and carrying them to Hebron (Judg 16:3). However, in the Middle Ages, mere symbolical representations of the resurrection of Jesus were not enough to satisfy the desire of the people to know what the resurrection of Jesus really was like. They wanted to see it in a more concrete way. After around 1000 C.E., painters and Bible illustrators started to depict directly what happened, at first in illustrations of liturgical books and psalm-books and only gradually in larger paintings. Resurrection now means that Jesus is leaving the sepulcher and ascending from it. The often painted concrete paintings of the resurrection of the deads in the last judgment also facilitated this step. My first example is a sculpture from the Wienhausen monastery from around 1290 C.E. It is still full of medieval spirit (figure 3). This sculpture had its place on the altar of the church that contained a holy host. Therefore the figure of the risen Christ had a very concrete liturgical function: Christ was really present in the cult held in the monastry. The figure of Christ on the sepulcher is disproportionally large, pointing like this to the celestial, supra-human character of the risen Lord. His right hand is lifted and forms a gesture of victory. His left hand originally carried an Easter-flag. The figures of the two angels who accompanied him originally are lost—the now solitary character of the figure of Christ increases for the spectator the im-

Fig. 3. Christ in the Resurrection from Moorland Express, Lower Saxony, c. 1290. Seated figure, sculpture Oak. Location: Niedersaechsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover, Germany. Photo Credit: Foto Marburg/Art Resource, NY.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 51

pression of heavenly sovereignty. The three small guardian figures—one under the feet of Christ and two in the niches of the sarcophagus—almost disappear because it is the victorious Christ alone who attracts the eyes of the spectator and even more of the worshiper. The subject of this representation of Easter is realistic, but not its spirit. In paintings of the fifteenth and sixteenth century, this changes rapidly. The problem now arises of how the mystery of the resurrection of Jesus can be expressed through the reality of the event that is painted. This becomes more and more difficult. My next example is the resurrection scene as it is painted by Hans Multscher on the so-called Altar of Wurzach (1437 C.E.; figure 4). The risen Jesus is sitting on the sarcophagus, again with a gesture of victory. The sarcophagus is closed—emphasizing the reality of the miracle. His gesture of victory contrasts with his posture and his face. Compared with the Christ of Wienhausen, he looks very different. He is is no more standing in heavenly sovereignty, but sitting on the sarcophagus—in a human way. The sarcophagus with the sitting Christ is not directly oriented towards the spectator but turned aside. Christ’s face does not radiate heavenly beauty, but looks rather like the face of a local farmer. The nimbus is hardly visible. In size, Christ is not different from the three guardians who could have been Fig. 4. Resurrection of Christ, Hans Multscher (1400– local noblemen. The setting is earthly: The 1467), 1437. Panel from the outer wing of the Wurzach Altar. Canvas on pine panel, ca. 150 x 140 cm. Inv.: 1621. trees and the wall remind the spectator that Photo: Joerg P. Anders. Location: Gemaeldegalerie, the sepulcher of Jesus was in a private garden. Staatliche Museen, Berlin, Germany. Photo Credit: Bildarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz / Art Resource, N.Y. In this impressive painting, the mystery of the resurrection is irritatingly combined with the realism of the scenery. In this new type of resurrection-image, the resurrection seems to be a miraculous event within the limits of time and space. This is more evident in a type of image that we could call “Christ walks out of the empty sepulcher.” Examples9 of this type are the paintings of Andrea Mantegna (ca. 1457/232), *Piero della Francesca (ca. 1460/233), *Hans Memling (ca. 1480/229), Albrecht Dürer (1510/237),10 Albrecht Altorfer (ca. 1510/245), and *Peter Paul Rubens (1611 and 1616). A second type of painting, originating in Italy, which I would call “Christ hovers or flies out of the sepulcher,”

9 Pictures of artists marked in this paragraph with an asterisk (*) can be found in http://www.bible-art.info/ Resurrection.htm. The first number behind an artist denotes the approximate year of origin of a painting, the second denotes the number of the plate in Gertrud Schiller, Ikonographie der christlichen Kunst, vol. 3 (see note 4), where photographs can be found. 10 About Dürer’s resurrection in the “Small Passion” cycle, cf. Ulrich Luz, Matthew 21–28, 600ff (with photograph).

52 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

has some similarity to traditional ascension-paintings and might have been inspired by them. To this type belong the well known paintings of *Fra Angelico (1440), *Giovanni Bellini (ca. 1479/236), Matthias Grünewald (ca. 1515/238), Tiziano Vecellio (ca. 1520/246), Jacopo Tintoretto (1577/409), El Greco (ca. 1603/249) and, eventually, *Rembrandt (1639/254). Increasingly, the difficulties of painting the resurrection as a worldly event happening in space and time become apparent: for example, when the risen Jesus with his transformed heavenly body is painted as a muscular and strong young man (e.g., Tiziano, Rubens), or when Jesus is flying in the air in a physically impossible posture (e.g., Bellini). For me, the most impressive of all these “resurrection-as-event” paintings is Rembrandt’s, because he renounced painting the exalted body of the risen Christ, but simply painted a cloud of brilliant light with an angel. In Western art from the sixteenth century on, this type of “painting the resurrection of Jesus as an event” became more and more dominant and replaced the earlier, symbolical and indirect artistic representations of the resurrection almost completely. It is no wonder that in the eighteenth century, enlightened radicals like Hermann Samuel Reimarus11 thought that such kind of events cannot happen. In the art of the Eastern church, the “resurrection-as-event” paintings has never found an entry. In modern religious art, the resurrection of Jesus is rarely painted. There is a tendency to return to symbolical representations—partly enforced through the rise of abstract, non-concrete art. This seems to me a chance to recover the mystery of the resurrection. Let me close this section by commenting upon a colored lithograph by the French artist Alfred Manessier (1948). It is the next to last lithograph of a cycle entitled “Easter,” consisting of eight sheets. The sixth sheet, entitled “Guardians of the Sepulcher” consists of a black circle with black spears, covering two chambers (is it a sepulcher? Or is it a human heart?) in strong yellow and red colors. The seventh sheet,“Resurrection,” is its exact contrast. The colors are bright, between orange and yellow. At the edges only, there remain some splinters of black. The circle in the center, corresponding to the one in the preceding sheet, is yellow or orange, too. It looks as if this circle of light could explode and send out bright patches over the whole rectangular space of the lithography. One gets the impression of energy, of strength, of brightness, and of joyfulness that fills the sheet and the heart. Nothing in this non-concrete cycle reminds one directly of Jesus, except its titles.

T H E U S E O F R E S U R R E C T I O N PA I N T I N G S I N E A S T E R W O R S H I P When I close with some remarks about Easter worship, I naturally speak from a European perspective. Or better: I speak as a Presbyterian Christian in Switzerland. And I naturally speak in my perspective because not every Swiss Reformed Christian would share my views. Switzerland is a secularized country. On an Easter Sunday, not very many people go to church. Traditionally, we Swiss

11 A recent English translation of the work of Reimarus is Herman Samuel Reimarus, Reimarus: Fragments (ed. Charles Talbert; trans. Ralph S. Fraser; Cascade, Ore.: Wipf & Stock, 2009).

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 53

Reformed Christians used to go to church on Good Friday and stay at home on Easter Sunday, because Easter morning is the time when we hide all the nicely colored eggs and chocolate hares in our gardens for our children. Nowadays, most people do not go to church on Good Friday either; rather, they take the opportunity of the holidays to go away to the mountains for the last skiing of the winter season. As long as I can remember, Easter was never a day when very many people went to church. In Orthodox Eastern Europe, this is naturally quite different. What is the reason for this? I think it has something to do with the difficulties that enlightened Europeans have with the resurrection of Jesus. Many Protestant Western Europeans possess something like a “Reimarus gene”: They think that Jesus was an impressive ethical teacher because he was faithful to his convictions until his death. But with his resurrection, they have problems. Many people tend to think that Reimarus’ hypothesis of the theft of Jesus’ body by the disciples12 is not unlikely. What they should believe about their own future after their death they do not really know. Many investigations have shown that belief in immortality of the soul or belief in metempsychosis is more popular among Western Europeans than belief in resurrection of the bodies—not to mention all those who believe that with death, everything is finished. The reason for this is evident: resurrection of the body seems to be unreasonable and implausible; the evidence of church graveyards speaks definitely against it. Why should they thus believe in a resurrection of Jesus? That Jesus continues to live in his post-history, e.g., in persons like Albert Schweitzer, is okay for them—but no resurrection of his body is necessary for this. People who are inclined to understand his resurrection verbally and physically, even theologians such as Gerd Lüdemann,13 consequently reject it. They overlook that the mere words for “rise” (anistanai = “stand up” or egeirein = “wake up”) are images, metaphors that resist a literal understanding. When the minority of conservative church people ask for a belief in a material concept of resurrection and insist that the resurrection of Jesus is an “historical event” (or better: what they believe to be an historical event!), then the majority of others activate their “Reimarus-gene,” join the position of Lüdemann, and tend to believe, like him, that churches hide the truth in order to save the so-called “integrity” of the church, in this and other matters. For such people, naturally, there is no reason to go to church on an Easter Sunday. The “image” character of words like “rise” or “wake up (from the dead)” has something to do with the representations of the resurrection in visual arts. First of all negatively: The “direct” representations of the resurrection have contributed much to this literal interpretation of the resurrection of Jesus, which finally has collapsed in the Enlightenment through Reimarus and others. Its unrepresentability and its symbolic and metaphorical character were lost. What remained for many was a very strange, if not ridiculous, piece of an antiquated Christian Weltanschauung. But—and this is the second point—we also have spoken about the iconic tradition of the ancient and the Eastern

12

See Reimarus, “On the Resurrection Narratives,” in Reimarus: Fragments. Gerd Lüdemann, Die Auferstehung Jesu. Historie. Erfahrung. Theologie (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994); English version: The Resurrection of Jesus: History, Experience, Theology (London: SCM, 1994). 13

54 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Orthodox Church: there, the resurrection of Jesus was not represented in this superficial face-toface way, but symbolically. The traditional Anastasis icon can illustrate this. We often say, lamentingly, that Orthodox Christians from Eastern Europe have not been as influenced by Western Enlightenment, because Communism has cut them off from the traditions of the West. This may be true, but there is also another way of looking at this. It might be that their iconic tradition has made them at least partly immune to interpreting Christian dogmas as doctrines that have to be accepted verbally as descriptions of God in direct conceptual language. Their iconic tradition has helped them to preserve a deep feeling for the symbolic character of the Divine Mysteries. I have indicated how works of art could be used in an Easter worship in our Western,“enlightened” part of the world. They can be a great help in regaining the image-character, or better: the iconic character, of the truth of the Easter-kerygma. This has several aspects. First, paintings and works of art that have a place in the church or that are shown during a worship service are different from a mere verbal, explanatory teaching that speaks strongly to the intellect, but less to the heart of humans. They show that the Easter-message can be experienced, seen with our eyes or, in the case of sculptures, even touched with our fingers, and not only heard with our ears. Through this, we realize that images are much more than representations of an absent reality. Rather, they are re-presentations; i.e., through them, what they represent is present. It is strange, and maybe also a sign that we have lost much through the Enlightenment, that we tend to say that something is only symbolically true, but not in reality.14 Secondly, works of art help to overcome the definitional character of the Easter faith: paintings are much more “open” than words. In looking at a painting and then sharing our impressions and feelings with others, we realize that our fellow Christians “see” and interpret the same paintings quite differently. We also will realize that it is impossible to say what is the “correct” interpretation of a painting, or at least much more difficult than the definition of a “correct” interpretation of a text. Similarly, the use of paintings in an Easter worship can help to overcome splits that arise in a parish about different interpretations of the resurrection of Jesus, for example, the question of whether a Christian must believe in the historicality of Jesus’ resurrection. This is a totally misleading question. Thirdly, the use of paintings in an Easter worship can lead to the question of why it was impossible for Christians to paint the resurrection of Jesus “directly” for 1,000 years and why once more today—in a century where the great Christian meta-narratives have melted away—it seems to be quite difficult for artists to represent Jesus’ resurrection directly. It can lead also to a discussion about why no gospel narrates Jesus’ resurrection, especially why the narrative of the Gospel of Peter seems to be inappropriate—not only for the ancient and medieval church, but also for us. This might lead

14 This is evidenced by the reception history of Calvin’s theology of the Lord’s Supper: What Calvin meant was surely not a theory about a form of absence of the Lord in the Lord’s Supper, but a theory of his presence. The difference between Calvin and Luther has been overstated through the confessional debates.

Interpretation 55

LITURGY AND EASTER

to the discovery that symbolic or iconic language is in many cases not less, but rather more than direct conceptual language, especially in religious language. Naturally, a congregation cannot make these discoveries when a minister monologizes in a sermon about them. Only in a dialogical form of worship are such discoveries possible. The use of art in an Easter service requires a dialogical form of worship. And this corresponds to the fact that the Divine Mysteries are not given to ministers only, but to the whole congregation.

Coming up next in Interpretation April 2011

Usury

July 2011

Reading Scripture from a Bicultural Perspective

October 2011

“Creation Groaning”: The Ecological Crisis

January 2012

Pentecost/Trinity Sunday fourth in the Church Year series

April 2012

The Book of Joshua

July 2012

The Book of Acts

October 2012

Seminary & Church: In This Together

Easter Preaching DAVID G. BUTTRICK Professor of Homiletics and Liturgics, Emeritus Vanderbilt University Preachers are faced with two unresolved issues at Easter: 1) Are the resurrection stories fact or legend? and 2) What does Paul mean by a spiritual body? Is he supposing something different from the stories? What is the Easter message we are called to preach?

E

aster is a tough day for preachers. They have had extra services during Holy Week and often heavy pastoral duties as well, calling on the ill and the grieving. Though weary, they still must rise to the occasion and prepare a sermon for Easter, the most significant day in the Christian calendar. Churches are filled for Easter, but congregations are restless. Kids are dolled up in Easter finery, with jellybean sugar feeding their fidgets. Family pews are often crowded with visiting relatives. Then there are the irregulars, well-meaning folk who show up on Christmas and Easter, propelled by some sort of residual faith. They are not shaped by a regular hearing of the gospel message and thus present a problem of apologetics for speakers. Preaching the Easter message has never been easy. Death is more than a statistic in our lives. Obituaries show up, day after day, and hearses still travel our boulevards. And these days, with the increasing pattern of cremation followed by memorial services, the notion of bodily afterlife is difficult to imagine. Then, recently, there have been the big-time tragedies: a Tsunami in the Indian Ocean (2004), an earthquake in provincial China (2008), and more recently a massive quake in nearby Haiti. When we hear of 100,000 human beings swept into death in a matter of seconds, the whole idea of a tailor-made resurrection seems to border on science fiction fantasy. On top of everything else, preachers must reckon with the resurrection stories that tag-end the gospel records. They feature an emptied tomb, bedsheet angels, and bodily appearances by a risen Christ, who sometimes strides through doors or stops in for a bite of food. Even for all-star believers, the stories are something of a stretch. They do not agree and cannot be arranged into any recognizable history. They come across as more fairy tale then fact. But they are required for preachers, particularly for preachers who may follow a lectionary. So how on earth do preachers preach on Easter Day?

*I have previously written on the resurrection texts in the following: The Mystery and the Passion (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992; repr., Eugene, Ore.: Wipf and Stock, 2002); Preaching Jesus Christ (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988; repr., Eugene, Ore.: Wipf and Stock, 2002); “Preaching on the Resurrection,” Religion and Life (Autumn,1976); 278–95.

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Interpretation 57

THE PROBLEMS Preachers as readers will be acquainted with issues that surround the resurrection texts. In 1994, biblical scholar Gerd Lüdemann wrote a book checking the historicity of the several Easter stories.1 Beginning with the story of Joseph of Arimathea’s supplying a tomb for Jesus, Lüdemann worked through resurrection narratives, one after another, and found absolutely no historical basis underlying any of the stories. In Germany, the book provoked a huge flap, with some upset readers suggesting legal action against the author. But Lüdemann is not an enfant terrible who gets a rush from kicking over Christian apple carts. He is a devout scholar who seeks to separate fact from legendary fictions; and we must play fair with his findings. In America, the Jesus Seminar subsequently published a study guide that ended up with Lüdemann’s same blunt conclusions.2 But, about the same time as Lüdemann published his analysis, Stephen Davis issued a semi-philosophical apologetic, defending the factual truth of resurrection narratives.3 Back and forth, the debate continues. Question #1: Is there any historical basis for the resurrection stories? Recently there have been two massive (800-page) works, one by Jewish scholar Alan F. Segal and the other by Bishop N. T. Wright.4 Side by side, the books underscore another issue. In 1 Cor 15, Paul supplies an early report of Jesus’ resurrection; but according to Segal, his understanding of resurrection seems sharply at odds with the stories that conclude the Four Gospels. The issue centers on Paul’s enigmatic phrase soma pneumatikon, sometimes translated “spiritual body,” a body provided by the Spirit, which Paul contrasts with our natural “flesh and blood” bodies. On the other hand, Wright, after a somewhat circuitous exegetical procedure, argues that there is no dissonance between the sources, that Paul and the gospel writers affirm a similar resurrection body.5 Question #2: What kind of body is a resurrection body? The issues are not merely scholarly nitpicking; they relate to preaching. How do you preach stories that at best appear to be pious fiction? They may express our faith, but they flunk the test of history. So what does a preacher do with the stories? The other issue, the question of a resurrection body, cannot be sidestepped either. Our bodies are connected with our sense of identity. They are us. What will resurrection mean for all of us as embodied human beings? Again, how does a preacher preach on Easter Day?

AN APOSTOLIC WITNESS I begin with the first developed presentation of the resurrection, 1 Cor 15:3–8. The chapter starts with a brief recitation formula (my translation):

1

Gerd Lüdemann, The Resurrection of Jesus: History, Experience, Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994). Bernard Brandon Scott, ed., The Resurrection of Jesus: A Sourcebook (Santa Rosa, Calif.: Polebridge, 2008). Stephen T. Davis, Risen Indeed: Making Sense of the Resurrection (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993). 4 Alan F. Segal, Life After Death: A History of the Afterlife in the Religions of the West (New York: Doubleday, 2004); and N. T. Wright, The Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003). 5 Marianne Sawicki, in her very smart if somewhat quirky Seeing the Lord: Resurrection and Early Christian Practices (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), seeks to trace a connection between resurrection texts and early ritual practices. A fascinating book. 2 3

58 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

I passed on to you as most important what I myself had received; namely, that Christ died for our sins as in the scriptures; that he was buried, and he was raised on the third day as in the scriptures; that he was disclosed to Cephas, to the twelve, and then, to more than five hundred brothers [and sisters] at once, most of whom are still around, although some have fallen asleep. He was then disclosed to James, to all the apostles, and, last of all, as if to someone born unexpectedly, he was also disclosed to me.

The formula seems to be crystallized language that Paul apparently picked up in Jerusalem years earlier. As the Corinthian letter is usually dated around 52 C.E., the recital formula might be as early as the late 30s C.E. Thus, it is the earliest declared testimony to the resurrection of Jesus we possess. The text is historical testimony, in contrast to the stories that end the Gospels. No wonder that many scholars, though skeptical when it comes to the stories, still believe in the resurrection of Jesus. My translation of the passage is peculiar. Most texts, including the NRSV, translate ophthe “appear,” as in “he appeared to Cephas.” Ophthe is an aorist passive form of orao, a notoriously difficult word to pin down. Scholars are split on the translation, with some scholars arguing that the word implies an action of God.“Appear” could mean no more than that an image of Jesus appeared in Peter’s mind like a picture on a screen. To use “disclosed” tilts the text in the direction of revelation. Most biblical translators go with “appear,” but “disclosed” is helpful for understanding what the passage may convey. Whatever the disclosure was, it was obviously vivid and so compelling that it generated the Christian movement. Do we know exactly what the disclosure of risen Jesus was? No, not really. Was it visual? Apparently, and apparently it repeated, so that Peter’s experience was duplicated by others. Is there any historical basis for the resurrection of Jesus? There is this testimony of the apostles that Paul has passed along to all of us. Christianity began with apostolic good news,“The Lord is risen!” But what about the stories? At Christmas, we preach stories that are also quite shaky historically, what with choiring angels in the sky chanting their carol to cloddish shepherds, and the magi, dazzled by starshine, dropping by to offer homage to a stable-born baby. They sound like folktales, but as a local church pageant planner once complained,“They are distressingly theological.” The

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 59

stories rest on the hard fact of a baby born, but they also affirm theological mystery. In a way, they are the first Christmas carols and thus set the tune for composers and preachers to follow. So perhaps we should accept the Easter narratives as stories, rather than histories. Are they the first Easter hymns based on the reality of Christ risen, prompting hymnody and sermons ever since? Actually, the Easter narratives are a more sophisticated genre. For example, look at the Emmaus road story in Luke 24:13–35. Two disciples are trudging the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They are rehashing, back and forth, Jesus’ cruel death when Jesus himself joins them. They are kept from recognizing him, presumably by God. They tell their anonymous companion about the crucifixion, “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel”—a confession of past-tense faith now shattered. Jesus turns on them, saying something like,“You blockheads,” and goes on to hand them a summary theological statement about the necessity of the Messiah’s death (v. 26). Then of all things, right there in the road, Jesus draws himself up and preaches a formal sermon,“beginning with Moses and all the prophets.” Later, at supper, the anonymous Jesus “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.” The phrase, including “took,” “blessed,” “broke,” and “gave,” is a familiar eucharistic formula. Then, according to the story,“their eyes were opened and they recognized [Jesus].” Thereafter, the two disciples recall his fervent preaching and their recognition of him in the breaking of bread. They go back to Jerusalem declaring the resurrection. Notice the structural components of the story: 1) indication of God’s supernatural involvement—Jesus appears unrecognized and later vanishes; 2) a brief creedlet, the theological statement; and 3) allusions to beliefs and/or practices of early Christian communities. These same components show up, one way or another, in all of the resurrection narratives. In the Gospel of Mark, as an example, God’s involvement is displayed by a gravestone tossed like a Tiddly-Wink. The creedlet is “He is not here. He is risen.” And the allusion to the life of the early Christian community is the young man in what may represent a baptismal robe, seated as he preaches good news. Mark is preoccupied with preaching; and whatever else he may be, the young man is a preacher. Perhaps the fact-or-fiction debate is somewhat bootless. The resurrection stories are neither history nor legend, but are a separate, quite distinctive genre, marked by a recognizable pattern. If preachers insist on preaching the stories as hard history, look what they will be missing. If my analysis is correct, the stories are tied to early Christian experience. They join resurrection with those moments, many liturgical, when the presence of the risen Christ may be known in community—in preaching, in Eucharist, in ritual forgiveness, and so forth. Thus, history is not in the recorded events (Lüdemann is no doubt correct), but history is in the allusions to life in early Christian communities.6 Do you sense that neither “history” nor “legend” is an appropriate label

6 See Peter Lampe, “Paul’s Concept of a Spiritual Body” in Resurrection: Theological and Scientific Assessments (ed. Ted Peters, Robert John Russell, and Michael Welker; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 103–14.

60 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

to paste on the stories? They are “homiletic theology.” As such, they are a wondrous gift to preachers.

W H AT I S A S O M A P N E U M A T I K O N ? Now what about the character of the resurrection body? Paul uses his odd phrase soma pneumatikon, and he seems to intend something quite different from Jesus’ body in the storied appearances. Paul discusses the body in 1 Cor 15:35–50 (my translation): But, someone may ask: How are the dead raised? With what body do they come? How silly, what you sow doesn’t come to life unless it dies; and when you sow, you don’t sow the body that is going to be, but a bare grain of wheat perhaps or something else. God gives it a body as [God] chooses; to each seed its own body. So also is the resurrection of the dead; it is sown perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in disgrace, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual one. I tell you this, brothers [and sisters], flesh and blood cannot inherit God’s new order.

At the outset, Paul uses the image of the “bare grain of wheat” that is sown dead but will have a new body given by God. Whenever a plant sprouted in the first century, it was deemed a miracle. In those days, people had no real understanding of germination, so after a dead seed was planted, the new plant’s blossoming was truly miraculous. The image is appropriate to Paul’s thought. Then, subsequently, Paul recites a series of contrasts between our human bodies and the body that God will give—perishable/imperishable, disgrace/glory, weakness/power, and natural/spiritual. The natural body, soma phychikon, is our mortal body. But the spiritual body, soma pneumatikon, is the resurrection body and is produced by the Spirit of the living God. Do we know what such a new body might be? No, except by inference. The risen body will be as a flower is to a seed: imperishable,

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 61

glorious, and powerful. But, please note, the Bible does not promise a body alone; the Bible imagines a new body in a whole new creation. By the way, Christianity does not despise bodily things: food for the body, drink for the body, or sex for the body. “Spiritual” is not opposed to bodily things. Elsewhere, Paul may seem to set spirit against flesh, but the term “flesh” is a code word in Paul’s thought. “Flesh” is the fallen human world’s way of thinking and doing; it has a social meaning, as in “All flesh is grass.” But body, soma, in Paul’s thought is not a bad word at all. As some wiseacre once quipped, “I wouldn’t be caught dead without a body.” Neither would Paul. But he specifies a new body for the new creation. In some Greek thought, the body is despised, something to be dumped as soon as possible. Not only is the body a hindrance; but material things, things of the body, are also viewed as second class hindrances. But according to Genesis, the body is something God designed; and God does not trade in second-rate products. Is the body fallen as we are? Yes. But redeemed, the body is considered good and bodily pleasures are also good. To affirm a resurrection body is to reject the notion of a detachable soul that will live on after the body is shucked off in dying. When we die, we die bodily. We are misled by consciousness. Just because we are conscious of having been born and of having to die, we are not therefore detached from death. Self-transcendence in consciousness is a product of our remarkable brains, and with death, the brain ends. So death is real. Death is terrifying. Death is the end of us as we know ourselves. Resurrection is thus an astonishing gift from God, who loves us. With resurrection, we are given a redeemed us, in a new embodiment provided by the Spirit of God. The point is quite right: None of us will be caught dead without a body. So what does Paul have in mind with a soma pneumatikon? At the outset, Paul is a Jew and therefore has a holistic view of the body. In some ways, soma could better be translated “self.” As Paul does not list any component parts of the self (soul, body, mind), soma is one, living self. Though soma pneumatikon is often translated “spiritual body,” the translation is misleading. “Spiritual” does not indicate a qualitative difference, something spiritual, in contrast to material. No, the word indicates agency. The risen body is a body to be created by the Holy Spirit of God.

WHY ARE THE CORINTHIANS SO SURE THEIR LORD IS RISEN? Immediately after the recital language in 1 Cor 15:3–8 is an astonishing paragraph (my translation): Now, if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there’s no

62 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

resurrection of the dead? If there’s no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised. And, if Christ hasn’t been raised, our preaching is emptiness and your faith also. What’s more, we are shown up as false witnesses for God, because we testified that God raised Christ, whom God hasn’t raised if the dead are not raised. If the dead aren’t raised, Christ hasn’t been raised: your faith is illusion, you’re still stuck in your sins, and those who have “fallen asleep” in Christ are gone forever. If in our Christian lives we only have hope, we are more pitiable than anyone. But, now, Christ has been raised from the dead— the first blossoming of those who have “fallen asleep.”

Notice the argument here. Apparently some of the Corinthian crowd doubts that we, followers of Jesus, will be raised in a promised general resurrection, either because inwardly we are already raised or because Jesus’ resurrection is regarded as a special case. Paul’s answer is peculiar: “If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised.” His logic is odd, a little like,“If there are no heffalumps, there has been no purple heffalump.” The fact is most people do not credit heffalumps at all. Paul seems to expect Corinthians to reply,“But we are absolutely certain Christ is risen,” and thus clinch his argument. But here is the puzzle: How are they so certain of Jesus resurrection? They doubt a general resurrection, but seem to be totally sure that Christ is risen. Has there been some common experience that has shaped their certainty? Perhaps we can reverse Paul’s brief list of projected negatives in verses 14 and 17: The preached gospel message has been convincing, their faith has grown strong, and they know their sins have been forgiven. Some years ago, in 1987 to be exact, Peter Carnley wrote The Structure of Resurrection Belief, which examines ways in which theologians have interpreted the resurrection tradition.7 Broadly, Carnley reviews three positions: 1) For some theologians, the resurrection is an historical event generally involving an empty tomb and the several appearances. 2) Others, like Karl Barth, regard resurrection as an objective event not open to normal historical research. Perhaps we might call it a “biblical event.” 3) Finally, Carnley notes theologians who suppose resurrection is the product of the disciples’ overall faith in Jesus. Within the three broad positions, Carnley locates virtually every major theologian writing in the 1980s. Of course, we could add to Carnley’s list a secular option, a simple belief that when you are dead, you are dead and gone forever. Like Job, who asked,“Can a man live again after dying?” and answered flatly “No.” A lot of such unfaith is going around these days. Finally, toward the end of his book, Carnley makes a move that we (and he) should have considered all along. Here are his words: The belief that Jesus was alive and that he had been raised . . . is not traced back to an experience or vision of the bodily Jesus of some kind, but to the continuing presence of the Spirit of Christ. This provided Paul with an additional empirically based indication of the fact that Jesus was alive as one who had been raised.8

7 8

Peter Carnley, The Structure of Resurrection Belief (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987). Ibid., 249–50.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 63

The awareness of the Spirit within early Christian communities is crucial to resurrection faith. Early Christians were absolutely sure that Christ was risen, because they were living in the Spirit, the same Spirit that was in Christ Jesus. Not only was Lord Jesus alive, he still broke bread with them, and still spoke to them through their preachers as well as via resident “Christian prophets” in their congregations9 (1 Cor. 12:28 and 14:29–33). Short exclamatory sentences, such as “The Lord is risen” are prompted by life in the Spirit and may well have their origin in liturgical moments. They show up and are repeated in the Epistles. For example, variations of “God who has raised Jesus from the dead” are found in Rom 4:24, 8:11; 2 Cor 4:14; Gal 1:1; Eph 1:20; Col 2:12; and 1 Pet 1:21. There are also two-sentence affirmations, such as the one spoken by the young man preaching at the tomb in Mark’s stripped down resurrection story: “He is not here. He has been raised.” Such evocative cries of faith may eventually have expanded into hymnic materials.10 Liturgical cries surely predate the formula Paul recited in 1 Cor 15:3–8. They celebrate life in the Spirit, the same Spirit that was in Christ Jesus. Oddly enough, the passage in 1 Cor 15:3–20 matches the strategy we noticed in the stories: an affirmation of God’s action, a creedal formula, and then allusions to the common life of the Christian community. Instead of trying to prove resurrection, Paul points to preaching and its power within the community. He appeals to common contemporary experience, and so do the stories.

THE LORD IS RISEN! What does the resurrection mean? Most scholars suppose that at first resurrection meant nothing more or less than exaltation: God raised up Jesus. The man who was put down, God has lifted up. The man condemned, God has acquitted. Exaltation expressed the surprise of disciples for whom resurrection was almost beyond belief. To any first-century Jew, a bad death was a sure sign of God’s outright disapproval. But no, suddenly God raised up Jesus. Exaltation was the message. Of late, some scholars have read exaltation as having political meaning. While Jesus’ mission may have been primarily religious, news of his resurrection echoed in a world dominated by Rome. Rome was a superpower (sound familiar?) that had conquered the entire Mediterranean world. Roman law was established in every conquered country, and coins depicting the “The Divine Caesar” circulated everywhere. But superpowers become nervous with any sign of dissent. So when Jesus staged a protest within Temple precincts, during the crowded Passover season, Rome reacted quickly. A Roman governor pronounced the skewed sentence that sent Jesus to the cross; and a Roman garrison ridiculed him, beating him almost senseless before they hung him on his cross. Then, all of a sudden, resurrection! God overruled vaunted Roman law and completely reversed

9 Two scholars have studied the role of the “prophets” in early Christianity. See David Aune, Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983); and M. Eugene Boring, The Continuing Voice of Jesus: Christian Prophecy and the Gospel Tradition (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1991). 10 Xavier Leon-Dufour, Resurrection and the Message of Easter (trans. R. N. Wilson; New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1971). “Stage One” provides a useful discussion of these early texts.

64 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Jesus’ sentence. His resurrection announced that God’s power was ultimately greater than Caesar’s. Christian impudence toward Roman power began with the resurrection. As time passed, the simple cry,“The Lord is risen” was amplified in hymnody and primitive creedal statements (e.g., see Phil 2:5–11 and 1 Tim 3:16). Early Christianity put together Jesus’ death by crucifixion and the surprising news of his resurrection into something like a single event. Meanings then enlarged profoundly. We sing the well-known spiritual “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” No doubt in a way we were, but we were not alone. We showed up within social groupings. Look at Golgotha: Roman citizens were around, proud to be number one in the world (sound familiar, again?). The military, armed and flush with power, was on hand. And, yes, religious leaders were there and not unhappy to see the Jesus annoyance removed. They were concerned to keep religion at the center of society, as are we. Undoubtedly, zealous nationalists were around, eager for Israel to throw off Roman rule. Though Barabbas was spared, many scholars believe the two “thieves” on their crosses flanking Jesus were probably local insurrectionists. In Passover season, Jerusalem was jammed with pilgrim people. Passover was a religious feast, but not without financial benefit. Although community leaders may have been upset by the show of Roman power, they were not too dismayed to see a public disturber like Jesus deleted. The disciples, vulnerable and afraid, were long gone. Everyone was on hand for the best of reasons, according to their social, political, and economic groups. With the resurrection, the whole world was suddenly under the judgment of God; yes, we were there when they crucified the Lord. With resurrection, God reversed all our human causes, and we were forced to see ourselves as sinners before the holiness of God. We Americans read the word “sin” as a personal label; sin describes individual deeds done by individuals. Thus, if a person is not involved directly, the word “sin” does not apply. We would never attach the word to corporate entities, nations, or large companies. But around the cross, people were involved not as discrete individuals, but always in concert, as members of collectives with shared intent and loyalties. It is precisely in our shared intent and committed loyalties that we are involved and judged. Now hear the good news,“He appeared to Peter. . . .” Remember, Peter denied his Lord. When he was quizzed three times, he kept on denying Jesus. So with the crucifixion, Peter was left to live with his guilt forever, and not only guilt but also disgrace. With the resurrection, the finality of Jesus’ death was lifted and the onus of disgrace eased. Jesus had come to Peter with mercy. The resurrection set Peter free; he was given a second chance to serve the Lord. The good news spread: “He appeared to the twelve. . . .” Suddenly, the doubt and dismay was lifted and Christian communities came alive again,“dying and rising with Christ” became a reality. For the church, resurrection was a recommissioning by their Lord.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 65

When crucifixion and resurrection are joined into one symbolic event, what does it mean for us? We know we are under God’s judgment even though we were not actually there. We are sinners all. But in light of the resurrection, we know we are ultimately forgiven. The Christian life is a strange life indeed. We bow in honest acknowledgment of our recurring ethical failures. But then in split-second recognition, we exhale in laughter. We live in The Mercy. In The Mercy, we live and move and have our being.

T H E G O D W H O I S G R E AT E R T H A N D E AT H Let us now think about death. We tend to think of death as individual—John Doe is going to die. If you check the obituary columns, you see pictures of particular people who have died. If you are quite old, you get realistic; to some extent, death becomes your horizon. If you are in your 80s, you count fingers on two hands, knowing the odds are against your getting ten more years, that in fact you may be down to one or two. Still, you are thinking of individual death, namely your own. But, temporarily, let’s enlarge the picture and consider death as a social force. Death is very much the logic of everyday life. Insurance companies consult actuary tables. Lawyers write wills that notaries stamp and witness. We spend a fortune on mortuary science. Go bigger still. The huge United States’ defense budget, currently more than 600 billion dollars, is ultimately dedicated to death. We assess weapons, like the daisy-cutter bomb, by how many they kill; the term of choice is “effective.” Yet without such investment in death, our economy might falter. Our penal code, with its capital punishment policies, lives under a cruel threat of death. A recent airline magazine featured the profile of a successful corporate executive who was admired for his “killer instinct” when it came to the competition. We evaluate health care by death percentages. Maybe death is not just a personal horizon, but instead casts a shadow over all aspects of contemporary life. Another step: The natural world also faces the horizon of death. According to Saint Paul, nature is also groaning, waiting for redemption, indeed for resurrection (Rom 8:19–23). A flower’s loveliness is heightened by the inevitability of its dying. Nothing lasts in the natural world, but is under sentence of death. Indeed, scientists remind us that earth itself has a life span. The whole human enterprise, including its natural stage setting, will face some final curtain. Of course, we have failed as managers of creation, misusing resources and corrupting streams, forests, fields, and mountains. What about climate? We have been contaminating the air we breathe. Beyond our misuse of the world, some theologians cite the tsunami that sweeps thousands into the sea or a fearful quake such as has devastated Haiti that buries 200,000 people in an instant as signs that nature itself, like human nature, is somehow fallen, fallen but groaning for redemption.

66 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

When the Christian gospel speaks of resurrection, it is something that defeats not only my dying, but death as a social-natural force that permeates our world. God’s new order (the kingdom of God) is a society in which people serve one another instead of flexing a “killer instinct.” God’s order is empowered not by threat of death, but by the free, glad Spirit of the living God. Resurrection is always a corporate reality. But hold on. Do we not preach the defeat of death to individuals? Well, no, not really. The whole idea of a discrete human being is suspect. Philosophers speak of the inter-human, acknowledging that we are always inter-involved. We are born in a mother’s womb and brought up in families, churches, schools, and societies. Even when we are alone, these same figures and forces are in our minds, dreams, emotional ties. We are never separate selves, but always interactional creatures. What could individual resurrection amount to? The raising of reduced less-than-selves, nothings. In both Jewish and Christian traditions, resurrection is a new creation, not just for human community, but for the whole wide human world. The notion of “resurrection of the body” is bigger than we know; it includes the body of the world in which we live as well as our own embodiedness. Essentially, resurrection is the promise of a new creation. The initial creation, a work of God’s Spirit, may well be passing away; but God’s new creation, also a work of the Spirit, happens by resurrection. Remember, we cannot be in isolation, we are inter-human. Nor can we be without a world to live within. When humans age, gradually they lose their world; their senses falter, their memory slips, their mobility narrows. Finally, they lose their world altogether. So, resurrection has to include a new world of some sort. The enigmatic word “heaven” stands for just such a new world. Are you beginning to notice the shape of your Easter day preaching? A recent book by two authors, both of whom are faculty at Harvard, one Jewish and the other Christian, presents the Jewish-Christian understanding of resurrection.11 When the book was published, Peter Steinfels, writing in the New York Times, summed up their conclusions: Resurrection does not mean going to heaven or life after death. Resurrection is not a belief that divides an other-worldly Christianity from a this-worldly Judaism. Nor is resurrection something that refers only—or even primarily—to the individual’s survival after death. Instead the [authors] emphasize that in classic Jewish and Christian teachings, resurrection refers to a collective resurrection of people and a renewal of all creation at the end of time.12

Truly glad news for Easter preaching! Of course, the exciting addendum to the promise of resurrection and a new creation is that it begins now. To pick up still another Pauline notion: “Anyone in Christ is of a new creation” (2 Cor

11 See Kevin J. Madigan and Jon D. Levenson, Resurrection: The Power of God for Christians and Jews (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008). 12 Peter Steinfels, “Resurrection is often Misunderstood by Christians and Jews” (review of Kevin J. Madigan and Jon D. Levenson, Resurrection: The Power of God for Christians and Jews), New York Times, March 15, 2008.

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 67

5:17, my translation). Paul seems to believe that those of us who are in Christian community and thus “in Christ” have a preview of the new order. Such anticipation is of course a gift of the Spirit, the same Spirit who will shape the soma pneumatikon in the someday of God’s sure promises. No wonder that for centuries on Easter day, Christians have greeted one another saying, “The Lord is risen,” and then in reply, “Yes, risen indeed,” with joyful laughter, as they embrace one another.

A POSTSCRIPT We have almost forgotten the final task for preachers who cope with Easter preaching. Biblical texts (sometimes handed out in lectionaries) must be interpreted and the people assembled should hear good news. Finally, every preacher must become a theologian. What happens when we die? Some texts seem to suggest immediate judgment, an up-or-down call. Other texts pose the prospect of a sleepy delay until a literal last trumpet sounds. Still other texts celebrate martyrs’ taken to the throne of God, who immediately join singing in heavenly choirs. Do we grab a single verse and frame it as descriptively certain; “Here’s what the Bible says—end of discussion.” Of late, there has been a sort of crypto-fundamentalism in our churches. But remember: Many centuries have passed since texts were first scribbled; times, cultures, and language have changed. In addition, the church has maintained ongoing theological discussion to help us. (“Discussion” is a better word than “dogma.”) So, every Sunday, preachers must become homiletic theologians. We take texts, translate them into contemporary meaning, allow them to be sharpened by the church’s theological discussions, and finally turn our half-formed understandings into words designed to form in congregational consciousness. Talk about a demanding job description. The Gospel of Mark has a terse resurrection story (16:1–8) that in Greek appears to end in an incomplete sentence. In the story, there is a young man, dressed in white, sitting beside the empty tomb. Who is he? Some few scholars suppose he is the same young man who earlier ran from the scene of Jesus’ arrest, half-naked, leaving his robe behind. But here he is again, symbolically scrubbed up, reclothed, and converted, declaring the resurrection. Most scholars, however, suppose that as Mark is an apocalyptic Gospel, the young chap is an angel, dropped in for the occasion.13 From the beginning of his Gospel, Mark has focused on preaching and just maybe the young man is a preacher. So shake hands with another preacher; you both speak good news on Easter day.

13 For an article tying the two young men together, see Robin Scroggs and Kent I. Groff, “Baptism in Mark: Dying and Rising with Christ,” JBL 92 (1973) 531–48; but see also Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary (ed. Harold W. Attridge; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), excursus on pp. 688–93, and further discussion, 795–96.

68 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

New Introductions

The Hebrew Prophets An Introduction JACK R. LUNDBOM

Lundbom surveys the elements of each prophet’s message, describes the characteristics of prophetic rhetoric and symbolic behavior, and discusses the problems of authenticity. The Hebrew Prophets offers an authoritative introduction to the h phenomenon of ancient prophetic speech for the contemporary reader—and hearer. 978-0-8006-9737-2 pbk 240pp $24.00

Soundings in the Theology of the Psalms Perspectives and Methods in Contemporary Scholarship ROLF A. JACOBSON

The many introductions to the psalms overlook the different theological approaches to the Psalter. This volume brings together leading psalms scholars from Catholic and Protestant traditions and takes into account recent scholarship on the shape and shaping of the Psalter and on the rhetorical interpretation of the Psalms. 978-0-8006-9739-6 pbk 224 pp $32.00

Introducing the New Testament Third Edition JOHN DRANE

Written for a broad audience, John Drane’s survey textbook provides a solid historical foundation for understanding the persons, events, and cultural context of the New Testament—from the world of the first Christians to how the New Testament was formed and has been interpreted and used by later generations. 978-0-8006-9750-1 pbk 512 pp $45.00

At bookstores or call 1-800-328-4648 fortresspress.com

Interpretation 69

LITURGY AND EASTER

Surprising p g New Perspectives p

Honor among Christians

Jesus and the Powers

The Cultural Key to the Messianic Secret

Conflict, Covenant, and the Hope of the Poor

DAVIS W. WATSON

RICHARD A. HORSELY

Watson considers Mark’s depiction of Jesus as part of a larger effort to promote a radically different understanding of honor within the family of faith.

Horsely rediscovers Jesus’ response to the imperial power of his day and challenges readers to reimagine their own response to the political realities in our own day.

978-0-8006-9709-9 pbk 256 pp $29.00

978-0-8006-9708-2 pbk 256 pp $29.00

The Arrogance of Nations Apostle to the Conquered Reading Romans in the Shadow of Empire

Reimagining Paul’s Mission

NEIL ELLIOT

Lopez presents a new and more critical perspective on the systematic violence of the Roman Empire, and a renewed understanding of “Paul’s politics of the new creation.”

Elliott offers a fresh and surprising reinterpretation of Paul’s letter to the Romans in the context of Roman imperial ideology. 978-0-8006-3844-3 hc 238 pp $29.00

DAVINA C. LOPEZ

978-0-8006-6281-3 272 pp hc $29.00

At bookstores or call 1-800-328-4648 fortresspress.com

Between Text & Sermon W. DENNIS TUCKER, JR.

Psalm 31:1–5, 15–16

George W. Truett Theological Seminary Baylor University, Waco, Texas

IN HIS BOOK The Shattered Lantern (Crossroad, 2005), Ronald Rohlheiser laments what he perceives as a “quiet agnosticism” that pervades the lives of most Christians. This agnosticism stems, Rohlheiser claims, from our inattentiveness to the full presence of God in all moments of our lives. He writes, “The issue is obviously not so much one of God’s presence, or absence, as it is one of the presence or absence of God within our awareness. God is always present, but we are not always present to God” (p. 21, italics added). To some, lament psalms may appear as little more than “lofty language” or shrill rhetoric meant to articulate the suffering of a petitioner. These psalms, however, are much more, often serving as the vehicles that enable us to be fully present to God when the circumstances of life appear to drive us elsewhere. Words of lament become our words in our attempts to find our way to God. Lament psalms may at times lead us to invoke the prayer of Karl Rahner who wrote of God, “You have seized me; I have not ‘grasped’ you” (Words of Faith, Crossroad, 1987, 3). When life circumstances have caused us to lose our grip on the world around us, and we no longer feel we can even grasp God or understand God’s way in the world, we still need to know something of the God that has seized us. When life causes words of lament to spill forth from our lips, it is before the God that has seized us that we desire to be most fully present. Such thinking does not reflect a delusional or escapist view of reality, but instead clarifies that which is “most real.” In Ps 31, the psalmist does not whitewash the crisis being confronted (note the withering experiences outlined in vv. 9–13), nor does he allow the crisis to have the final word. Instead, the psalmist challenges us to lean fully into the One who has seized us so completely. T H E G O D A LW AY S P R E S E N T The psalmist begins with the affirmation “In you, O LORD, I seek refuge.” All that follows in the psalm must be heard in light of the short phrase,“in you.” These opening words suggest that Ps 31 is not a soliloquy uttered by a lone sufferer, but rather a prayer comprised of language that is fraught with relational and covenantal overtones. Three times in the psalm, the psalmist references the h9esed of YHWH (vv. 7, 16, 21) and ten times the psalmist uses the covenant name “YHWH.” The psalmist is not conferring with a disinterested bystander, but with the One who has been fully enmeshed in the life of God’s people. The hope of the psalmist is the h9esed of YHWH—the steadfast love, the uncompromised loyalty, the unbending commitment of a covenant partner. In vs. 1, the psalmist implores YHWH: “in your righteousness, deliver me.” The reference to the righteousness (s9e5da4qa=) of YHWH “recalls God’s character as one committed to his people in covenant” (Peter Craigie, Psalms 1–50, Word, 1983, 260). Further, as Clint McCann has noted, the language in the opening verses of Ps 31 is replete with verbal allusions to the exodus event (“Psalms,” New Interpreter’s Bible IV, Abingdon, 1996, 800). The God of the exodus is the God ever present, even now. All of this leads the psalmist

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 71

to speak of YHWH as )e3l )e5met, the “faithful God” in v. 5. The rich compilation of images, allusions, and verbal cues challenges the reader to lean fully into the one who has seized us, but not because of who we are, but because of who YHWH is, the one aptly named )e3l )e5met.

F I N D I N G A P L A C E T O S TA N D Circumstances that generate lament are nearly always de-centering and destabilizing events. Such circumstances require us to find a new place to stand. The psalmist announces in v. 9 that he is in distress (s@ar), and equally troubling, that he has become the scorn of all his adversaries (s@o3re3r). In some sense, his reality has been defined by both the state of s9ar in which he finds himself as well as the aggression of the s@o3re3r who seem to surround him. Yet the psalmist does not believe his present condition is his final condition. Frequently, OT writers use alliteration or assonance as a stylistic technique to create dramatic effect. In the case of Ps 31, the psalmist recognizes that his present condition is defined by his own s@ar and the s@o3re3r around him, but he pleads with YHWH in vv. 2–3 to be his rock. In v. 2, the term for “rock” is s@u=r, and in v. 3, a synonym is used, but one that maintains a similar alliterative quality (sela(). Elsewhere in the OT (2 Sam 22:2; Ps 42:9; Isa 32:2), “rock” functions as a descriptive name for God. Not only does the term represent the protection and care of YHWH, it also alludes to the idea of Zion as the “foundation of the world,” a place “that is solidly grounded and lifted on high” (Hans Joachim Kraus, Psalms 1–59, Augsburg Fortress, 1988, 259). Thus, in a world that had been de-centered and destabilized, overrun with s@ar and s@o3re3r, the psalmist yearns for the rock, the s@u=r and the sela(, a place that is “solidly grounded and lifted on high,” a place where the psalmist is brought fully into the presence of God.

P L A C I N G O U R S E LV E S I N T H E H A N D O F G O D The circumstances that generate prayers of lament frequently test our ability to trust fully in the God who has seized us. The psalmist describes his existence as one seized by the “hand of the enemies and persecutors” (v. 15). His life is understood as a life threatened with shame (vv. 1, 17), a life entangled by nets of entrapment (v. 4). For those who read Ps 31 and feel entangled and entrapped by such hands, the hands of foes and adversaries, they can do little more than follow the cry of the psalmist in v. 5,“Into your hand I commit my spirit,” or again in v. 15,“My times are in your hand.” Such confessions, do not signal quiet resignation, or futile desperation, as though there is little else one can do. Rather, such a confession can only be made when one knows )e3l )e5met,“the faithful God,” and such a confession can only be made when one knows firmly that the places of s@ar and s@o3re3r are not the final places for us to stand. We commit ourselves into the hand of God, into the firm grasp of the God who has seized us because that is the place we long most to be. When Jesus utters such words from the cross in the Gospel of Luke,“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (23:46), his confession is not one of quiet resignation, nor of futile desperation. Rather, he confirms that the God who has seized him will not let the places of s@ar and s@o3re3r have the last word, nor will the hands of the men who have seized him (Luke 22:54) be the final hands that hold him. Instead, with such a confession, he leans fully into the belief that the )e3l )e5met, “the faithful God,” will hold him firmly in his grasp.

72 Interpretation

Matthew 28:1–10

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

E. CARSON BRISSON Union Presbyterian Seminary Richmond, Virginia

AMONG THE CANONICAL GOSPELS, Matthew alone lodges his witness to Jesus’ resurrection between accounts of official attempts to undermine claims that Jesus’ crucifixion failed and to quell popular hopes regarding his messianic candidacy. Precautions are taken to insure that what has been entombed stays entombed (27:62–66). When these do not succeed, lies are purchased (28:11–15). This unique canonical arrangement may point to a robust discussion between Matthew’s community and its opponents concerning whether Jesus’ body had been stolen by some of his followers in service to their outrageous proclamation that death had not held him (cf. Acts 2:22–24; 4:1–22).

Theologically, this reasonable explanation of what did not happen at the Jesus’ tomb may create a subtle temptation toward a further argument for what did happen there. Those who preach from this passage may wish to resist that temptation. As even a gnostic text counsels, what the believing community declares happened on Easter is not the province of argument, but of faith: “For [resurrection] is the domain of faith . . . and not that which belongs to persuasion: the dead shall rise… . For we have known the Son of Man, and we have believed that he rose from among the dead” (The Nag Hammadi Library, Treatise on the Resurrection, trans. Malcolm L. Peel). The claim that Jesus the Crucified has become Jesus the Raised (by God) is made solely from faith and received solely by faith. Proofs do not avail. Indeed,“Faith dies from proofs. . . .” (Eduard Schweitzer, The Good News According to Matthew, John Knox, 1975, 520). In Matthew’s account, women (two, not Mark’s three) identified as Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” (28:1) journey to Jesus’ tomb. Unlike Mark’s account, they bear no spices for his crucified body and do not discuss any need for the stone at the tomb’s entrance to be moved. The motive for their visit does not appear in Matthew to be the fulfillment of domestic and religious duties and tasks related to death and burial, albeit important and expected of them due to their social location and gender—duties and tasks described in the Gospel of Peter as among “those things that women do on behalf of the dead who are beloved to them” (12:50). Mary Magdalene and the second Mary come to Jesus’ tomb in Matthew, as the purpose infinitive in 28:1b makes clear, because they desire “to see” (perhaps meaning to keep vigil as was custom) the last resting place of the one whose loss grieves and impels them. The exact timing of their arrival at the tomb presents a challenge. What is meant by Matthew’s construction “as the first day of the week was dawning” differs depending upon Jewish and Roman understandings of whether a day begins at sunset or at sunrise. What is clear in the passage, regardless of one’s decision as to the exact time of day the women arrive on the scene, is that they are not met by the silence and stillness of death, but by the eschatological drama of the world itself being transformed from the grave outward. The earth shudders; the great globe (lithon megan, 27:60) placed earlier across the tomb’s opening is on the move; a blazing heavenly intermediary,“the angel of the Lord,” is present and much at work; the guards are paralyzed; Jesus’ body is no longer in “the place where he lay” (v. 6; some texts already carry the gloss “the Lord” for “he”). The “from now on you will see” prediction of the dawn of God’s reign found in Matthew’s account of Jesus’ interroga-

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 73

tion by the high priest (26:64) has become a reality, though, strangely and beautifully, no one (ever) sees precisely when this new beginning begins (cf. 27:51–53). None of the four canonical Gospels offers an actual account of Jesus’ resurrection. Rather, all bear witness and present witnesses —celestial and human—that it has indeed taken place, unseen in se, visible (to the eyes of faith) only by and in its consequences. (For a different approach, replete with giants and other piously fantastic features describing the actual moment of Jesus’ resurrection, see Gospel of Peter 10:48–32; see also John Dominic Crossan’s Four Other Gospels and The Cross that Spoke [both Wipf & Stock, 2008]). Matthew’s brief transition, kai idou, (v. 2), from the women’s approach to Jesus’ tomb to the first of two epiphanies waiting for them at the grave house is abrupt. The phrase barely sutures v. 1 to the rest of the narrative. Instead, it immediately focuses attention on the cascade of events upon which the women have come. Signs and wonders, caused by nature yielding to divine activity and purpose (Mark knows of no earthquake), wrench the setting from that of two friends of the dead walking quietly together under the burden of shared grief to one of heaven burst open to rattle the earth to its bones. Both the descent from heaven and the approach of the heavenly messenger to Jesus’ tomb are expressed in participles; the effect lends a quality of determined intentionality to the then relatively easy (for the heavenly envoy) and sparsely narrated task of rolling the stone away from the tomb’s entrance. This effect is underscored by the (regal) act of the angel choosing the stone as his perch, or perhaps his trophy, and maybe even his temporary throne (Brown, Fitzmyer, and Murphy, The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, Prentice Hall, 1999, 673). While the angel’s apparel, like that of Mark’s “young man” (Mark 16:5) and similar to Luke’s two men dressed in “dazzling clothes” (Luke 24:4), befits and reflects his glorified heavenly status, Matthew’s reference to the seated one’s appearance as “like lightning” (a detail not found in Mark) at once underscores the presence of overwhelming divine power (cf. Ezek 1:13–14; Dan 10:6; Jer 10:13; 51:13) and signifies the dawn of the long-awaited eschatological age (Matt 24:27; Luke 2:22–38; 17:24). Meanwhile, the carefully posted “watch” (kustodias, 27:66) is, as guards are on more than one canonical occasion (Judg 2:15–25; Dan 3:19–23; Acts 5:17–21; 12:6–11; 16:25–34), hopelessly overmatched and hapless. The motif of powerless power is amplified in Matt 28:3–4 by parallel similes: just as the angel’s face is “like (‘os) lightning” (v. 3), those who guard the grave become “like (‘os) dead men” (v. 4). Indeed, Matthew paints a scene in which “the ones assigned to guard the dead themselves appear dead” (Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 14–28, Word, 1995, 869). It is worth noting that from this point, a contrast is drawn between these custodians of death and the women who originally set out to mourn their loss (Barton and Muddiman, eds., The Oxford Bible Commentary, 2001, 885). The guards are paralyzed with fear and do not engage in any way in what is unfolding all around (and despite) them; the women, too, are fearful, but are drawn fully into the dramatic events upon which they have come. The guards are never addressed; the women, on the other hand, are addressed and commissioned. The soldiers’ fear is their single, governing emotion; the women also fear, but their fear is mingled with and overcome by joy—perhaps suggesting a model for Matthew’s post-resurrection community. While a delegation from the guard leaves the tomb apparently at the same time as do the two women (“While they were going, some of the guard went into the city . . .”; v. 11), that (armed) delegation goes to be told (and paid “a large sum” for it) not to repeat “everything that had happened” (v. 11). Meanwhile the women, asking instructions of no one, leave

74 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

quickly and run (v. 8) to tell what has taken place, becoming as they do so “apostles to the apostles” (Jerome Biblical Commentary, 673), at a time when female testimony had little or no legal standing. The angel’s address to the woman and the announcement of good news employ three movements. First, the women are reassured (as opposed to the terrified guards). The heavenly messenger, with wisdom as befits his elevated status,“knows” why they have come (v. 5). Next, using the divine passive, or at least suggesting divine agency and no other means, the messenger declares (the liturgical formula by Matthew’s composition) that Jesus “has been raised” and can no longer be found in the tomb, adding, as is not found in Mark’s account, that this has occurred “as he [Jesus] said [it would]” (cf. Matt 12:38–40; 16:21; 17:22; 20:19; 26:32), a phrase that perhaps alludes to the postEaster community’s recollection of Jesus’ resurrection predictions to his disciples. Finally, the two Marys are commissioned (v. 7). Matthew’s tradition relates nothing about any hesitation on the part of the women when they receive the angel’s instructions. Unlike Mark’s shorter ending (Mark 16:7–8), in which three women flee from inside the tomb, in Matthew, Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” never enter the tomb itself. In Mark 16:8 (contrast Mark’s longer ending), they flee in terror and awe, and then out of fear say “nothing to anyone”; in Matthew, the women in fear and “great joy” dash away from the tomb to find the disciples and inform them of a planned rendezvous with Jesus in Galilee (v. 8). As the women run from the tomb, they are interrupted by a second epiphany. Angelophany shifts to theophany. Matthew’s transition is again the abrupt use of kai idou (v. 9; cf. vv. 2, 7), translated “suddenly” in the NRSV. Now, without warning, Jesus himself appears. His appearance seems deliberately understated in comparison to that of the divine messenger. The earth does not shake. His face does not shine. His clothes do not glitter. He performs no superhuman feats. Seeing that it is he (contrast John 20:14–16), the women immediately (fearlessly?) approach him, and embrace his resurrected feet ( a moment presented naturally in the narrative with no escorting metaphysical fireworks) in the posture of homage (v. 9). After greeting them (for a different greeting, cf. John 20:19), Jesus’ reassurance to the women and his command to them echo those of the angel’s, with the most notable difference that the filial term “brothers” (v. 10; cf. John 20:17) replaces the angel’s reference to “disciples” (v. 7) as those to whom they are being sent. No specific mention of or special material concerning Peter is found in Matthew’s account (cf. Mark 16:7; Luke 24:12; John 21:15–23). We are told that the disciples, the remaining eleven, do in fact go to Galilee where they, too, see and worship Jesus, and are then commissioned, for however long as the eschatological age may last (28:16–20). Matthew’s text offers to those who would preach by faith God’s resurrection of Jesus the story of Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary,” who set out to revisit the tomb of a beloved friend violently wrenched from them. The women have every sane reason to expect their friend’s tomb to be as last they saw it, tightly closed and utterly unattended (27:60). Instead of finding a landscape subdued by death, they stumble suddenly upon eternity busily reordering history, and in fear and joy then find themselves swept up into God’s victory over death as they are made the first glad heralds of the dawn of that age in which in “this Jesus” (Acts 2:32) there are now, and forever, no longer any limits (Rom 8:31–39) to the divine promise to make all things new (Rev 21:1–5). To the sword and the spear being recast into instruments of God’s holy and just peace, add the gravedigger’s shovel.

Interpretation 75

LITURGY AND EASTER

Feminist Mysticism and Images of God: A Practical Theology by Jennie S. Knight Feminist theologians often claim that “women’s experience” is their starting point. However, feminist theology is remarkably void of analysis of particular women’s experiences of imaging God. Knight provides practical recommendations to help people transform images in the context of religious practices. Paper, 192pp, 978-08272-10509, $24.99 (Available Spring 2011)

The Nature of Love: A Theology by Thomas Jay Oord If God is loving, why can evil persist? Oord contends that self-emptying kenosis love is essential to God’s character. What are the implications of the divine necessity to give human freedom and not retract it? Paper, 208pp, 978-08272-08285, $24.99

INVITE Q EQUIP Q SEND

Print and e-books at www.ChalicePress.com, or wherever books are sold

76 Interpretation

1 Peter 4:1–8

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

PAUL J. ACHTEMEIER, Professor Emeritus Union Presbyterian Seminary Richmond, Virginia

GOOD WILL, EVEN GOOD DEEDS, IS NOT ALWAYS ENOUGH to gain a neighbor’s respect. This was the problem addressed in our passage from 1 Peter. Practicing their Christian faith led the readers inevitably into conflict with their neighbors, and their larger society. The reason was simple enough: although they once followed the customs expected of any citizen in their locality, all of a sudden they wouldn’t do it anymore. As a result, they were accused of being aloof, and worse. Among the things they would no longer do is participate in the festivals that were a part of the culture of the whole Roman Empire. While practices that often accompanied those festivals bordered on the profligate, a normal part of the festival included fealty to the local gods and to the Roman emperor as the embodiment of the advantages conferred by Roman culture. Such activity could only appear as idolatry to the Christians, and as a result, they would not participate in many of these public festivities. Such non-participation invited the charge against the Christians that they would not do what everyone else did because they simply hated everyone. (The charge was “hatred of the human race” [Latin odium humani generis]). It also brought charges of treason—they did not respect the Roman authorities—and of rebellion against the gods who protected their localities. Such aloofness and irreligious, not to say treasonous, behavior meant that at any time the Christians could become the victims not only of opprobrium, but also of physical abuse and persecution. Being a Christian in that place and time was not an easy thing, and our passage reflects that situation. Yet Christ, their Lord and therefore, their example, had also suffered and had triumphed over the evil powers that opposed him, as 1 Pet 3:22 demonstrates. That means that those who follow him will similarly triumph over those same forces that had opposed Christ, and that now also oppose them. It is in that confidence that they can face the sufferings visited upon them, confident that they, too, will triumph at the hands of the God who also raised Christ to his own heavenly throne. The larger context of our passage, as the language of verses 1 and 6 shows, begins with 3:18, which in turn was a continuation of the discussion begun in 3:13. That larger context was introduced in 3:10–12 with a quotation of Ps 34:12. That the Psalm verses point to the gist of the discussion of the passage that begins with 3:13, and ends with 4:6, shows the concluding nature of our passage. First Peter 4:7–8 is the beginning of a passage that points to the way Christians are to live with one another, as 4:1–6 discussed how they are to live within their contemporary culture. For that reason, 1 Pet 4:7–8 ought to be considered separately within its own context of 4:7–11, and I will not discuss those verses further here. The passage begins with a reminder that as they must suffer, so Christ also suffered during his earthly life (the meaning here of “in the flesh”). The second half of the verse is closely tied to that statement, and means that those who follow Christ and have suffered have ceased from sin. It is

LITURGY AND EASTER

Interpretation 77

not a general statement that any human suffering purges that sufferer from sin. Verse 2 makes that clear, pointing out that those who have suffered because of following Christ now live the rest of their earthly lives no longer guided by human passion, but by the will of God, as that is manifested in Christ. Verse 3 then defines what the author means by “human passions,” and gives us an encapsulated view of his judgment on secular Roman culture. Because the author has taken over the language of God’s covenant with the descendants of Abraham to describe the Christian community and its members (see the opening words of v. 1), those outside the Christian community are described as “Gentiles,” meaning they are not people of the covenant established by Christ. It does not mean that the readers are Jews and their opponents are all non-Jews, i.e., Gentiles. But Christians no longer participate in that culture, and are abused for it. Although at present, the Christians have no way of defending themselves against such suffering and abuse, they may take confidence in the assurance that those who now oppose them will one day have to confront God, and explain their actions. Whether that happens sooner or later, they will have to face the judgment of the God who judges both the living and the dead. Here, the author probably reflects the common apocalyptic assumption that at the last time, the dead will be raised to face the final judgment of God for their conduct. Despite the fact that v. 6 is tied tightly to the preceding verse by its opening language (“because for this reason”), the verse can be confusing. Three problems can be identified: 1) who preached what; 2) how the final half of the verse is to be understood in light of its parallel Greek constructions (“judged…live”; “flesh…spirit”; “according to men…according to God”); and 3) the identity of the “dead” and hence the relationship of this verse to 3:19. 1. The verb for “preaching the gospel” is in the impersonal passive, i.e., no subject is given. This is a very rare use for the NT, and given the other uses of the verb, it is likely here that “good news” is probably to be understood as the subject, i.e., “the good news was preached.” 2. The last half of the verse is introduced with a preposition indicating purpose (hina), which, with the contrasting prepositions introducing the two phrases, indicates that the first phrase is to be understood as subordinate to the second half. The NRSV “although” is a good way to begin the parallels. The first parallel, live/judge, could be understood, as in v. 5, to refer to God’s final judgment, but that is made questionable by the rest of the phrase. It would be strange to describe God’s final judgment as taking place “in the flesh,” and in some way related to human standards. Here, the translation would perhaps be more accurately rendered not “like men,” but rather “according to human standards.” That is, it would read “although judged in the flesh according to human standards.…” The comparable phrase, “like God,” would then more likely bear a parallel meaning “according to divine standards,” and the parallel phrases would then read “according to human standards/according to divine standards.” Such a meaning is reinforced by the likelihood that the author is thinking of the abuse heaped on Christians described in v. 4 that results when they are judged by the human standards of their opponents. The parallel “in the flesh/in the Spirit” displays the contrast between human and divine that is found frequently in 1 Peter (e.g., 1:14–15; 2:4; 3:12; 4:2; 5:10), and probably describes the sphere

78 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

within which something occurs. That is, judgment occurs in the realm of human existence, while life occurs with the realm of the divine. The verse would then read “since it was for this purpose that Christ (or the gospel) was preached also to the dead, so that although they were judged by humanity according to what is appropriate to human beings, they may nevertheless live by the spirit according to what is appropriate to God.” Thus, the first half refers to the charges described in v. 4, the second half to the proper conduct to be described in vv. 7–11. 3. Who then were the dead to whom the gospel was preached? Many have drawn a parallel with 3:19, seeing here further reference to Christ preaching the good news to the dead. But that parallel is unlikely, since the one preaching and the word for dead, are not the same. In fact, in 3:19, Christ is the one preaching to “imprisoned spirits.” There is no indication that Christ is doing the preaching in 4:6, and the word “spirits” is never used to refer to the dead in the NT. That it could be a means to justify God’s universal judgment on living and dead, i.e., the dead also heard the good news, would imply a chance for conversion after death, an idea foreign to the NT. That it justifies God’s judgment on those who died prior to Christ’s incarnation runs up against the question concerning those who have died since the incarnation and have not accepted Christ. A more attractive interpretation would be to see the phrase as a reference to the Christian dead, who during their lifetime heard and accepted the gospel being preached, but who have since died prior to the return of Christ. Thus, even though they underwent the cultural rejection because of their faith, and died apparently without vindication, they will nevertheless be awakened at the final judgment to live in the spiritual realm with God. In this way, the author assured his readers that not even death can challenge the validity of their commitment to Christ. That is a word that one can read with encouragement in any age.

Interpretation 79

LITURGY AND EASTER

Exceptional New Books

Ephesians Frank Thielman 9780801026836 PPsC “Thielman manages an EXTRAORDINARYFEATACOMMENTARY THATISTHOROUGH HISTORICALLY astute, and written in engaging, CONVERSATIONALPROSEv —Lynn H. Cohick, Wheaton College

A Handbook of New Testament Exegesis Craig L. Blomberg with Jennifer Foutz Markley 9780801031779 PPsP h!MONGTHEMANYDISCUSSIONS OFTHEINTERPRETATIONOF3CRIPTURE THATHAVEAPPEAREDLATELY THISIS ONEOFTHEBESTANDMOSTHELPFULv —Grant Osborne, Trinity %VANGELICAL$IVINITY3CHOOL

1 Samuel Francesca Aran Murphy 9781587431722 PPsC h&RANCESCA-URPHYISATHER PERCEPTIVEANDWITTYBESTIN 1 SamuelvˆIain Torrance, PRESIDENT 0RINCETON4HEOLOGICAL Seminary

Synopsis of the Pauline Letters in Greek and English James P. Ware sPPsC h7AREHASPRODUCEDANINVALUABLETOOLFORBEGINNINGANDMOREADVANCED STUDENTSOF0AULvˆJoel B. Green &ULLER4HEOLOGICAL3EMINARY 4HISHANDSOMELYPRODUCED'REEK %NGLISHSYNOPSISOFPARALLELORRELATED PASSAGESINTHE0AULINECORPUSANDTHEActs of the ApostlesPROVIDESAN essential tool for studying the New Testament text. For more information visit www.BakerAcademic.com/SynopsisofthePaulineLetters

L

Available at local bookstores or by calling 1-800-877-2665. Subscribe to Baker Academic’s electronic newsletter (E-Notes) at www.bakeracademic.com. Subscribe to Border Crossings, the Brazos monthly electronic newsletter, at www.brazospress.com.

T

80 Interpretation

Major

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Reviews Accompany Them with Singing: The Christian Funeral by Thomas G. Long Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 224 pp. $24.95. ISBN 978-0-664-23319-8.

A TRAINED OBSERVER, ATTENDING worship over a period of time in the same congregation, learns to decode the messages that the service consistently telegraphs to everyone present, whether newcomers or longtime members. The messages telegraph what the particular church understands to be the character of the God whom it professes, as well as how the church understands itself, its own character, its mission, and its hope. So far, so good. The problem is that the message being telegraphed is not always the intended message. The analytic observer takes note of unintended messages that are at least as powerful as the intended ones. The message would be relatively easy to control were it only a matter of words spoken and sung. However, words are only a part of the message. The entryways; the architecture; the layout of the worship space; the physical and emotional relationship between the assembly and those in leadership; the demeanor, postures, and movement of leaders and the congregation; the presence, visibility, and arrangement of such pieces as the font, table, and pulpit— all these combine with other nonverbal cues to communicate an encoded message that has at least as much long-term formative effect as the words used in the service. And the encoded message is often quite different from the message the pastor and church leaders intend and which they imagine themselves to be communicating. What is true every Sunday in every church is also true of the funeral or memorial service. Those who gather for the service when a church member has died may be the same people who profess the Apostles’ Creed many Sundays: “I believe in the resurrection of the body. . . .” And yet, the encoded message being telegraphed at the funeral may say something more like “Bodies don’t matter.” Only souls matter, and this particular soul has already fled the body. Or, only memories matter, so please pay attention to the video being projected or the anecdotes being told. Or, only character matters, requiring us to engage in a project of selective eulogizing that would no doubt puzzle the deceased were he or she able to offer a comment. Ministers who have served congregations in more than one community can testify to the fact that funeral customs vary from place to place. In one community, the practice is most typically to have a service in the church. In another, the practice is normally to have a service in a funeral home. In North Linden, those attending the funeral accompany the body to the cemetery, but in South Linden, the body is interred or cremated before a memorial service. The normative practices of the community tend to be consistent across denominational lines, particularly in smaller cities and towns. At a time of death, everyone knows more or less what to expect and what their own role is. Change will be resisted until custom is quietly eroded by the larger culture.

REVIEWS

Interpretation 81

For a long time, the dominant culture has exercised a powerful influence on funeral rites. That influence went largely unnoticed, since local practice exhibited stability over a long period of time, and most ministers simply worked within the parameters of established tradition— though they were not too clear on how tradition had become established in the first place. Today, it is harder to miss the impact of cultural influences on rites for the time of death, since they are obvious enough to mark a watershed between what was, for so long, customary, and what is now becoming fashionable. Near my home, there is a new “legacy center,” a contemporary adaptation of the old funeral home. A bereaved family can find almost any kind of amenity there, including the technology to produce and show projected media of various kinds, and facilities for receptions, including meal service for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In fact, if you like the place, you can use it for a wedding reception or anniversary celebration. In other words, the legacy center is sensitive to its market, which is one inclining toward designer funerals—or, perhaps more accurately, “celebrations of life.” Like a similar trend in weddings, today it is possible to have a “theme” funeral—maybe Nascar, maybe Cincinnati Reds, or possibly “Gone with the Wind”—it’s your call! It would be easy—probably too easy—to make fun of farewells that look a lot like denial, and a lot like old-fashioned poor taste. They are rooted, in many cases, in a loss of faith, or a dilution of the power of faith to shape our rites of passage. And, churches have generally not done a good job of interpreting what Christian faith says about the meaning of death and the hope we bring to it. In fact, the old stable practices that now look comparably appealing were not that much more closely attuned to the gospel than the new build-it-your-own-way celebrations of life. When Thomas Long set out to research the project that resulted in Accompany Them with Singing, he did not question the typical presumption that the funeral is chiefly a matter of pastoral care for the bereaved. Indeed, that view is so conventional as to seem self-evident. What he came to believe was that “this consensus view is deeply flawed.”“Yes, funerals provide consolation . . . but they do so as part of a much broader work involving the retelling of the gospel story, the restoration of meaning, the reaffirmation of the baptismal identity of the one who has died, and the worship of God” (p. xiv). Funeral practices have, for a very long time, been profoundly influenced by a pervasive Gnosticism, which perceives the human being as composed of separable components, soul and body. The soul, being immaterial, is good, while the body is well left behind. (Long further develops his critique of gnostic influence in Preaching from Memory to Hope [Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009].) Christian faith, however, is incarnational, and its faith is not in a bodiless immortality, but in “the resurrection of the body”—a transformed body, according to Scripture (cf. John 20, Luke 24, and 1 Cor 15). The human body itself is, in a sense, sacramental, since all we know of another person has been communicated in an embodied way. The work of the church at a time of death is not to sweep the body out of sight, but to accompany the deceased in a kind of procession all the way to the grave or columbarium, accompanying them “with singing.” Which is to say, not denying death (small “d”), but defying Death (capital “D”), because “even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!” (from the Book of Common Prayer, quoted by Long, p. 169). Long recognizes that it is necessary to adapt to circumstances. But he insists that, for the sake of integrity, the funeral needs to be understood as a piece of drama, for which “it is crucial to

82 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

enact the gospel script” (p. 82). A theme that runs throughout the book is that a funeral “is built on the foundation of baptism” (p. 79) and “is a continuation and elaboration of the baptismal service” (p. 81). The death of a Christian brings to completion her/his union with Christ in his death, and brings to the fore once again the anticipation of a similar union with him in his resurrection. Long offers not only a theological commentary, but also a tour of funeral practices in comparison and contrast to Jewish and Roman practices, as well as historical observations of changing funeral customs in North America since the nineteenth century. He adds practical suggestions for ministers, describing the difference between funerals that are “personal” in contrast to those that are “personalized.” Observations with respect to preaching, serial addresses and eulogies by relatives and friends, appropriate music, and issues related to military and other ceremonies add to the book’s usefulness. This book is a much-needed challenge to today’s church to reaffirm its own basic conviction about death and the Christian hope. It is basically countercultural, and in some cases, the culture it intends to counter is one the church itself has unintentionally mimicked. Those who take its challenge seriously will need support; therefore, one of the best ways to use it might be to study it in company with other pastors. Ronald P. Byars, Professor Emeritus Union Presbyterian Seminary Richmond, Virginia

Interpretation 83

REVIEWS

Six Ways to Study the Bible by Trent C. Butler Noted biblical scholar Trent C. Butler provides accessible guidance to textual, historical, literary, exegetical, theological, and devotional approaches to study of biblical text. Provides applied examples and processes for each approach, with guidance on the use of supplemental tools and resources. Paper, 168pp, 978-08272-34703, $16.99

Interpreting the Psalms for Preaching and Teaching edited by Herbert W. Bateman, IV, and D. Brent Sandy Lays the foundation for interpreting and proclaiming the psalms as it considers fifteen representative psalms from the five books of the Psalter, providing models of interpretation along with suggestions for how to teach and preach the psalms. The book closes with four chapters on how the psalms apply to the Christian life with respect to devotional reading, incorporating the psalms into worship services, teaching, and preaching. Paper, 304pp, 978-08272-16358, $34.99

Isaiah: God’s Poet of Light by Carol J. Dempsey Literary and hermeneutical presentation of “Isaiah” as a literary character who recites/sings a ballad that spans time and space, includes various literary forms, styles, techniques, and genres, and which features multiple voices, all combined together to form a poetic masterpiece of events foreseen and events envisioned. Paper, 224pp, 978-08272-16303, $24.99

Print and e-books at www.ChalicePress.com, or wherever books are sold

INVITE Q EQUIP Q SEND

84 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Philippians and Philemon: A Commentary by Charles B. Cousar New Testament Library. Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 120 pp. $29.95 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-664-22122-5. CHARLES B. COUSAR’S COMMENTARY on Paul’s letters to the Philippians and to Philemon is a model of concise clarity. With an engaging writing style, Cousar offers pastors, students, and laypersons an informed and easily accessible guide for reading two of Paul’s most personal letters. The book’s layout follows the standard features of the New Testament Library series. A useful introduction to each letter leads into commentary that divides the text into sections, according to the author’s outline. Each section features a new translation and notes that explain translation and text-critical decisions. Cousar’s interpretation of the text moves through Paul’s argument, at times dealing with whole paragraphs, at times with individual verses. Although contemporary application is not a prominent feature of this commentary, Cousar ends several sections by noting that a passage appears in the Common Lectionary. He then reflects briefly on its implications for the church. This enhances the commentary’s usefulness for clergy. The volume also features a general bibliography and several indices. Not surprisingly, Cousar devotes most of the commentary to Philippians. His introduction is clear and useful. It provides the reader with an overview of current scholarly thought on a number of historical, literary, and theological issues relating to the letter. Cousar’s own conclusions yield few surprises. In line with the trend of recent scholarship, he takes Philippians to be a single, unified document. On the somewhat more controversial question of where Paul was imprisoned at the time of writing, he favors Ephesus to Rome, with an early dating of the letter (52–55 C.E.). The discussion of the letter’s literary character tackles recent attempts to classify Philippians as an ancient “letter of friendship.” Although Cousar recognizes that “the letter is packed with the language and conventions of friendship” (p. 12), he concludes, rightly, in my view, that Philippians cannot be forced into any single literary category. Unfortunately, Cousar pays little attention to the language of friendship in the course of his commentary, until he reaches Paul’s “thanksgiving” in 4:10–20. What, then, is Paul up to in Philippians? Like most recent commentators, Cousar thinks that Paul has multiple purposes for writing. Furthermore, he spotlights the apostle’s striking use of exhortations, as well as the positive and negative models he offers his readers. Given these consid-

REVIEWS

Interpretation 85

erations, Cousar concludes that “Philippians is a community-building letter in which the apostle seeks to mold the thinking of his readers in a distinctively Christian way” (p. 17). By focusing on this positive, community-forming aim, Cousar avoids the assumption that Paul writes Philippians primarily to deal with some problem within the church, either internal divisions (4:2–3) or dangerous agitators (3:2–3, 18–19). Cousar is surely right that the main “opponents” behind the letter were likely Roman pagans, mentioned in 1:27–30. However, he may be casting the net too narrowly in identifying them as “Roman civil authorities” (p. 15). Peter Oakes, in his 2001 monograph Philippians: From People to Letter (Cambridge University Press), has argued convincingly that Christians could well have experienced harassment from their pagan neighbors in Philippi, including various forms of social and economic suffering. Furthermore, since Cousar sees imperial worship and opposition from the Roman powers “looming large” (p. 18) in Philippians, it would have been helpful to develop these themes further in the introduction. A statement of Cousar’s approach and goals for the commentary would also have been welcome. Cousar’s interpretation of individual passages in Philippians is generally informed and cautious, drawing on his years of expertise as a student of Paul. He regularly alludes to other recent exegetes (but not to ancient or pre-modern interpreters), both to support his own decisions as well as to provide contrast with them. For instance, after reviewing the options for interpreting the phrase pistis Christou (literally, “the faith of Christ”) in 3:9, he argues that Richard Hays’ subjective genitive reading (Christ’s faithful obedience) makes more sense theologically. Clearly, one of Cousar’s main gifts to his readers is a fair and accessible evaluation of recent scholarship on Philippians. But this strength also has a flip side. I was often left feeling that Cousar had not fully engaged the text itself. One notable example is his treatment of the celebrated Christ hymn of 2:6–11, which Cousar takes to be pre-Pauline. Cousar skillfully orients the reader to the complex debates that surround the passage; e.g., whether the hymn reflects an Adam Christology (Cousar thinks it does not), or whether the story of Christ functions in the letter primarily as an ethical paradigm to follow or as a depiction of the drama of salvation (Cousar defends the latter). His discussion of the hymn, however, consists largely of an evaluation of the views of other scholars, rather than an interpretation of the text itself. There are numerous positive aspects to Cousar’s unpacking of Philippians. But two seem particularly helpful in guiding the reading of the letter. First, he emphasizes the formative role that examples hold in Paul’s argument. The “primary model to be followed” (p. 13) is, of course, that of Christ, as set forth in Phil 2:5–11. The story of Christ then sets the pattern for other models to which Paul appeals: Timothy, Epaphroditus, and the apostle himself; likewise, it shapes the community as a whole. I fully concur. However, the argument works better if we read 2:6–11 in the first place as a paradigm for how Christians should live (see 2:1–5), rather than, with Cousar, as a soteriological drama. Second, Cousar wisely recognizes that “there is a strong sense of mission in the letter” (p. 30), a theme that commentators often miss. For example, the “good work” that God has begun among the Philippians includes their partnership in mission with Paul (1:5–6). Likewise, against the

86 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

majority of scholars, Cousar translates 2:16 as a call for the community to “hold forth” the word of life. This rendering makes full sense in the context of 2:14–16. It also constitutes a rare Pauline exhortation for the church to engage in missionary activity. Cousar’s treatment of Philemon is brief, filling only ten pages of text. The introduction surveys the way that other interpreters read the story behind the letter. Against the traditional interpretation that Onesimus is a runaway fugitive, Cousar thinks the slave probably got into trouble with his owner, then appealed to Paul to intervene on his behalf. Along with such historical questions, more attention to literary, rhetorical, and theological features of the letter would have strengthened the introduction. In his interpretation of Philemon, Cousar rightly resists speculating too specifically on the many questions the text raises, such as whether or not Paul intends for Onesimus to be set free. The commentary closes with a helpful excursus on “Paul and Slave Ownership.” More of these explanatory excurses would have been welcome throughout the commentary. Cousar appropriately cautions today’s reader not to impose modern ethical perspectives on Paul’s situation. Nevertheless, the message of Philemon is transforming: Paul “lays out an entirely new structure of relationships” between Philemon and Onesimus, “relationships that can be seen in marked contrast to that of the typical slave and owner” (p. 105). My biggest reservations about this commentary have to do not with what is there, but rather, what is not. Some important interpretive matters beg for further development. For instance, in a commentary series that claims sensitivity to the theological implications of the biblical text, this dimension is underdeveloped. For example, Paul’s contrast between his own, law-based righteousness and the true righteousness from God in Phil 3:9 calls for more comment than the brief treatment it receives. And although Cousar notes the use of positive and negative models in Philippians, I would like to have seen more attention to Paul’s rhetorical forms and strategies in these letters. Such omissions are surely due in part to the relatively brief size of the commentary, even in comparison with other volumes in the New Testament Library series. Jerry L. Sumney’s commentary on Colossians, for example, is more than three times the length of Cousar’s book. Readers will want to consult more in-depth commentaries on these letters for fuller exegetical and background discussions. Nevertheless, Cousar offers us a valuable entry point into these two letters and sound interpretation in light of current scholarship. Interpreters of Paul, especially busy preachers, will find this to be a useful commentary. It is a welcome addition to the series. Dean Flemming EUROPEAN NAZARENE COLLEGE BÜSINGEN, GERMANY

Interpretation 87

REVIEWS

Exceptional Commentaries in Critically Acclaimed Series

Romans

Matthew

The Gospel of Matthew

Frank J. Matera 9780801031892 PPsP

Charles H. Talbert 9780801031922 PPsP

Curtis Mitch and Edward Sri 9780801036026 PPsP

“Students will find here an excellently organized, clear, and substantial description and discussion of this important and complex letter. Matera’s personal passion for Paul’s magnificent convictions in Romans energizes this fine introductory commentary.” —L. Ann Jervis, professor of New Testament, Wycliffe College, University of Toronto

“Most commentaries rewrite earlier commentaries. The better ones, to the contrary, often go their own way. Talbert’s work happily is of the latter type. It regularly offers fresh readings and new comparative materials, especially from Greco-Roman sources. This is not a tired rehashing but a welcome contribution.” —Dale C. Allison Jr., Pittsburgh Theological Seminary

“This extremely readable commentary should be on the shelf of any priest, deacon, seminarian, or layperson who wants to bring out ‘treasures new and old’ from the pages of the First Gospel.”—Brant Pitre, Notre Dame Seminary, New Orleans

u

Available at local bookstores, www.bakeracademic.com, or by calling 1-800-877-2665. Subscribe to Baker Academic’s electronic newsletter (E-Notes) at www.bakeracademic.com.

88 Interpretation

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

John Calvin: A Pilgrim’s Life by Herman J. Selderhuis; translated by Albert Gootjes InterVarsity, Downers Grove, Ill., 2009. 304 pp. $25.00. ISBN 978-0-8308-2921-7. CALVIN-BASHING IS SUCH A COMMON phenomenon in North American culture that even responsible pastors find it difficult to help members of their congregation reach a more balanced view of this most controversial Protestant reformer. The celebration of the 500th anniversary of John Calvin’s birth brought out the legends again, along with some equally inappropriate adulation. Those who want to make sense of this long-dead man who still arouses both love and hate will find real assistance if they have Herman Selderhuis’ book in hand. Selderhuis is one of the leading Calvin scholars in Europe, and his work is always worth reading. He brings to this book years of teaching young students, and the text reads like personal conversation, with the liveliness of a very engaged but appropriately critical friend of Calvin. Selderhuis’ knowledgeable story of the Genevan reformer’s pilgrimage avoids the tendency to make Calvin either a Protestant saint or a tyrannical killjoy, and provides a good (re)introduction for those who have been put off by all they have heard about this man who was so influential—for better or worse. The text is arranged in a fashion that combines topics with chronology. Each chapter characterizes Calvin with (sometimes arresting) one–word captions: “orphan,” 1509–1533; “pilgrim,” 1533–1536; “stranger,” 1536–1538; “refugee,” 1538–1541; “preacher,” 1541–1546; “victim,” 1546–1549; “widower,” 1549–1551; “patient,” 1551–1554: “sailor,” 1555–1559; and “soldier,” 1559–1564. Analogies bring Calvin the man and Geneva to life for modern students, e.g., a description of the qualities of Calvin’s church order as egalité, liberté, and fraternité (p. 123) or the common view of Geneva as a “Reformed DDR” (p. 127). Humor seasons the information, e.g., when explanation of sexual moral standards concludes with a joke that “there was little for [engaged] couples to do except read the Institutes together” (p. 181). The major theme is expressed in the subtitle, A Pilgrim’s Life, and provides a continuing motif, but it is not belabored. Particular chapters cast light on Calvin’s pilgrimage in different ways. For example, in ch. 1, Selderhuis pictures Calvin as an “orphan” who was distant from his birth father, while important junctures in his life were shaped by much more appreciated father figures like Farel and Bucer. Under the final subheading of this chapter, “Honest Kid,” Selderhuis

Interpretation 89

REVIEWS

assesses the reformer thus: “Though aware of his own faults, Calvin did think he lived as he had taught others to live, a claim the truth of which is more and more corroborated by research. . . . Anyone who thought Calvin was a sycophantic slimeball knew nothing of him at all. . . .” (p. 31). The treatments of his conversion (“pilgrim”), the exile to Switzerland and Geneva (“stranger”), and the time in Strasbourg (“refugee”) carry further the sense of Calvin’s pilgrimage to the association with Geneva to which he believed God had called him. But there was a struggle in Geneva: this chapter speaks of him as “victim.” Under the subheading “Devotion,” Selderhuis describes the conflict of purposes: Geneva’s attitude had nothing in common with Calvin’s all-or-nothing style. Whatever he did, he did well, and this mindset became typical for many Reformed people after him . . . . Calvin had biblical ideals, but also tried to stay realistic. Nevertheless, he expected to see the devotion that marked his own life in the lives of others as well, and such expectations were bound to bring him problems, even if he did not cause them himself. Calvin suffered from an inability to accept that not everyone was as enthusiastic as he. (p. 145)

Some chapters group issues in thought-provoking ways, e.g., marriage and family matters are dealt with under “widower,” since Selderhuis judges that “[a]s far as [Calvin personally] was concerned, marriage was unnecessary,” though he rejected obligatory celibacy (p. 165). (Others would read Calvin’s marriage more positively.) The years that encompassed major theological conflicts (Bolsec, Trolliet, Servetus, consistory battles) are entitled “patient,” since physical ills were also taking a greater toll. The final subheading, “Drive,” asks what made Calvin so intense: “The answer has everything to do with his walk with God . . . . What does not fit the presentday image of Calvin is that he could laugh even as he was caught up in his drive” (pp. 211–12). The period when the voyage of life was smoother (“sailor”) includes Calvin’s widening international influence. The last chapter (“soldier”) covers the period when his beloved France was falling into war. The subheading “Militancy” focuses especially on the Christian’s lifelong struggle against Satan “with little opportunity for down time. . . . If there is a militant tendency or a willingness to fight among Reformed believers, they did not get it from a stranger. Nevertheless, if they go out looking for a battle, they did not learn this from Calvin” (p. 237). As is often the case with published lectures, there are a number of minor slips. A sharper editorial eye would have been useful, particularly with regard to the translation. Most North American readers may simply find it funny or inelegant, but those for whom English is a second language will be perplexed by the frequent use of inappropriate colloquialisms, e.g., “sycophantic slimeball,” “greenhorn,” “a bad rap,” “quality time together,” “pad his file with the doctor,” “scarf everything” [meaning to eat], “big wheels,” and “down time” (pp. 31, 85, 120, 181, 196, 197, 226, 237). Such language also dates the book, unfortunately. Despite these slips, this new and engagingly written interpretation of Calvin by a major scholar will be very useful for jaded readers who are willing to give Calvin another chance—and rediscover the very human, very real sixteenth-century person. Elsie McKee PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

90 Interpretation

Shorter

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Reviews

Trauma Recalled: Liturgy, Disruption, and Theology by Dirk G. Lange Fortress, Minneapolis, 2010. 192 pp. $29.00. ISBN 978-0-80066462-6.

“WHY DID I SURVIVE the death of God?” (p. xi). This is the question that haunts Dirk Lange’s intriguing and incisive interrogation of liturgical theology, Lutheran tradition, literary criticism, and the emerging field of trauma theory. Lange marshals an unlikely assortment of expert witnesses, among them Martin Luther, Sigmund Freud, Jacques Derrida, contemporary trauma theorist Cathy Caruth, venerable Lutheran historian Heiko Oberman, and celebrated liturgical scholar Enrico Mazza, to make the compelling and challenging case that the language and action of Christian liturgy is a perpetual struggle with the singular trauma of the Christ event (or paschal mystery). This event confronts us as an unexpected return, unsettling assumptions and resisting systematization. Furthermore, there is something of this event that remains unknowable, inaccessible—and it is precisely this “something” (which Lange names grace) that continually irrupts into the liturgical event and disrupts theological foundations. Lange’s appeals to sacramental themes are particularly illuminating and provocative. He highlights baptismal images in the Praefatio to the Complete Edition of Luther’s Latin Writings, demonstrating how, near the end of his life, Luther saw himself as one drawn out of the chaotic swirl of history and clothed with a new vocation (thereby confounding the scholarly desire to isolate and elevate some Turmerlebnis epiphany in Luther’s life). Lange points instead to Luther’s singing of the psalms (an experience cited in Luther’s Table Talk) as the prayerful practice that framed his wrestling with God’s justice and mercy. Turning to Luther’s treatises on the Eucharist, Lange disputes the “institutional” understanding of the Lord’s Supper as remembrance or reactualization of the (so-called) Last Supper, reified by the requisite utterance of the Words of Institution. For this argument, Lange summons an early witness to Christian meal-sharing: chs. 9 and 10 of the Didache, which include no such verba and are

strangely silent with reference to the cross. In the sacrament of the Eucharist, Lange contends, the event of a shared meal displaces the violence of the cross with the dissemination of the gospel—a scattering like broken bread. Trauma Recalled is a difficult work, but with the potential to haunt and disrupt the disciplines of liturgical and theological hermeneutics for generations to come. In a world wrecked by the trauma of war, Lange’s rewriting of liturgical theology also holds the promise of an ethical reorientation, retuning our ears to the anguished cry of the neighbor: “Don’t you see I’m burning?” (p. 178).

DAVID GAMBRELL OFFICE OF THEOLOGY AND WORSHIP (PCUSA) LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY

Hymns for Today by Brian Wren Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 142 pp. $16.95. ISBN 978-0-664-22934-4.

IN HIS PUCKISH WAY, Erik Routley, the dean of twentieth-century hymnologists, defined a hymn as “a bad poem set to a bad melody.” He meant that a hymn’s text and tune had to be immediately accessible—the kiss of death for many of his contemporary poets and musicians. But for centuries, hymn texts have been widely used not only for congregational singing, but also for reading as formative, devotional poetry—and poetry of considerable depth, if not complexity. In Hymns for Today, Brian Wren seeks to reclaim this use by the faithful, especially by those whose experience of congregational singing is limited to praise songs and choruses. He offers a large body of texts written within the last generation as a convenient resource. These are “hymns for today,” not only because they seek to respond to the questions and concerns being raised today, but also because they were written, if not today, then within the very recent past. Choosing which texts to include and which to omit must have been a delightful task as well as a frustrating one, even for Wren, who has been in the forefront of hymn-writing on both sides of the Atlantic since the 1960s. As a wise way to provide

Interpretation 91

REVIEWS

breadth of coverage, he surveys the contents of twenty-three recent denominational hymnals for texts written since 1950. Of the 250 hymns most commonly “anthologized,” he offers both the most used, and the ones he believes will prove particularly durable. This collection, then, is both popular and personal. In each of seven chapters, he demonstrates how one might explore a particular theological topic (e.g., Christ, the Spirit, the church) using passages from selected hymns. Most valuably, the book ends with complete texts of thirty-five hymns (fifteen more are quoted in their entirety in earlier chapters), well-displayed for study and prayer. This collection is of considerable value for preachers. The craft of hymn-writing, of course, has many connections to that of preaching: explication of a text; attention to rhetorical devices; and concern for communicability. It is, therefore, particularly unfortunate that no hymns by Herman G. Stuempfle, who was equally skilled as a homiletician, preacher, and hymn-writer, were chosen. But the ones that were chosen provide a good overview of the theological questions of the past half century, as well as the riches hymn texts have to offer the preacher both within and surrounding the sermon.

MARK OLDENBURG LUTHERAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Psalms for Preaching and Worship: A Lectionary Commentary edited by Roger E. Van Harn and Brent A. Strawn Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2009. 535 pp. $35.00. ISBN 978-08028-6321-8.

THERE ARE MANY THINGS for which we profess a passion—fresh fruits, vigorous exercise, the classics of literature. But if we run a quick check of our purchases or scan the blocks on our calendars, such passions seldom translate into practice. Perhaps there is none so frequently professed and so little practiced as the regular use of the Psalms in Christian worship, either as the sermon text or the substance of the liturgy. Editors Roger Van Harn and Brent Strawn are determined to correct this fault. The heart of this anthology is an exposition of all the psalms that appear in the Revised Common Lectionary (as well as the responsorial Psalms and Canticles). If this was all the book had to offer, it

would simply compete for space with other recent collections (such as Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox). Two things set this work apart: the deep immersion in the Psalms of its expositors (including William Brown, James Limburg, and Clinton McCann); and the opening and closing essays that frame their expositions (an essay on preaching the psalms by Brent Strawn and an essay on using the psalms in worship by John Witvliet), both with extensive and up-to-date bibliographies. This book is not simply another paean to the power of the Psalter (though you get a good one of these in the foreword by Walter Brueggemann). This is a how-to book, a “Whole Psalms Catalogue.” As Brueggemann declares, quoting Sigmund Mowinckel, the Psalms can be “effective” in constructing a “strange new world” within which the dialogue of “extreme abandonment” and “extreme claim” may be practiced (p. xvii). A preacher or worship leader who wants to be part of this movement should buy this book and do more than read it. Put it into practice—for the sake of Christ’s church and the world.

RICHARD BOYCE UNION PRESBYTERIAN SEMINARY AT CHARLOTTE CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA

Struggling with God: An Introduction to the Pentateuch by Mark McEntire Mercer University Press, Macon, Ga., 2008. 249 pp. $25.00. ISBN 978-0-88146-101-5.

MARK MCENTIRE SUCCEEDS in the daunting task of introducing students to the polymorphous world of contemporary pentateuchal criticism. Starting with a competent introduction to critical methods ranging from source to ideological criticism (ch. 1), he then surveys the five books of the Pentateuch. Following the cue of the Pentateuch itself, McEntire uses narrative analysis to structure the whole, but does not ignore other issues. He carefully summarizes debates over contents as well as methodology, in each case giving an evaluation of their conclusions. This approach naturally leads him to emphasize literary issues, but also to find overarching themes and connections that more detailed analysis often misses. For example, he points out how the combination of two creation stories with the flood story sets the stage on which the subsequent stories

92 Interpretation

in Genesis play out. McEntire compares pentateuchal plot lines to those typical of various kinds of modern fiction, pointing out similarities as well as differences between the cultures’ uses of literary conventions. He highlights the moral issues that arise from the interpretation of biblical law. The book thus provides a guide through the pentateuchal books that is both literarily nuanced and appreciative, but also critical in the historical and ideological senses. The need to survey a huge number of critical approaches makes the first chapter less successful at presenting a synthesis. McEntire makes effective use of tables to summarize complicated theories. He provides good, even-handed coverage of research of the last three decades. Inevitably, however, the chapter reads like a list of one theory after another and will be hard for students to appropriate. That problem is unavoidable and the text-based exposition of the following chapters makes up for it. Struggling with God provides a fine introduction for undergraduate or seminary students. Advanced scholars will also profit from its synthesis of issues within a narrative framework.

JAMES W. WATTS SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY SYRACUSE, NEW YORK

Esther Through the Centuries

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

book’s silence about God. From there, she reviews interpretations of Esther chapter by chapter, in narrative sections, following the biblical story as it unfolds. By the commentary’s end, it is clear that the text of Esther stands firmly in the communal and liturgical life of the Jewish community, much more so than in that of Christianity, historically and today. Carruthers is quite successful in presenting a history of interpretation of Esther through the centuries. Her discussion reveals a breadth and depth of material that is provocative and encompassing. Further, the reader gains a great sense of the varied ways that the book of Esther has been and continues to be appropriated and understood by faith communities. Interestingly, considerably more pages in the volume are dedicated to the reception history of the first four chapters of Esther than the last six chapters, raising the question of whether interpretations have focused more on that material. Carruthers does not say, and one is left to wonder. Finally, and not surprisingly, readers will not find in this commentary Carruthers’ own views of how to read a particular passage in Esther. While she reports what others see as the pivotal moment in the book, and how one artist depicts Esther versus another, she does not share her own impressions. But that is not the aim of this commentary series. And as such, this volume offers readers a wonderful resource for seeing how Esther has been understood through the ages.

by Jo Carruthers

DONNA DESARRO-RAYNAL

Blackwell Bible Commentary. Blackwell, Malden, Mass., 2008.

WILSON COLLEGE

304 pp. $100.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-4051-3213-8.

CHAMBERSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

THE EDITORS OF the Blackwell Bible Commentaries series assert that the main interest of this series is the reception history of biblical books, for “how people have interpreted, and been influenced by, a sacred text like the Bible is often as interesting and historically important as what it originally meant” (p. xiii). Thus, in the volume devoted to the book of Esther, Jo Carruthers presents a comprehensive discussion of significant and influential Jewish, Christian, and secular interpretations of the material. These interpretations include not only written sources, but also those found in art, music, and drama throughout the centuries. Carruthers begins the commentary with an extensive introduction that addresses basic themes evident in the book, including nationalism, Jewish identity, nationhood, and exile, as well as the

Jonah by Phillip Cary Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible. Brazos, Grand Rapids, 2008. 193 pp. $29.99. ISBN 978-1-58743-137-1.

I AM GUESSING THAT the folks at Interpretation wanted to have fun with this. They invited a philologist (me) to review a HB commentary by a colleague who has no Hebrew. My own effort on Jonah almost two decades ago (1969) bristled with notes, citing more authorities than is sensible. Phillip Cary’s commentary has a handful of footnotes, citing just one Hebraist. I wrote for inclusion in the Anchor Bible, a series that, at the close of the past millennium, sold zillions, but increasingly was serving mostly biblicists. For the series, the goals were “anthropological”

Interpretation 93

REVIEWS

Society of Biblical Literature The Bible in/and Popular Culture "
$SFBUJWF
&ODPVOUFS Philip Culbertson and Elaine M. Wainwright, editors
5IJT
DPMMFDUJPO
PG
FTTBZT
FYQMPSFT
B
SBOHF
PG
QPQVMBS
NFEJB‰IJQIPQ
SFHHBF
SPDL
BOE
DPVOUSZ
BOE
XFTUFSO
NVTJD
QPQVMBS
BOE
HSBQIJD
OPWFMT
BOJNBUFE
UFMFWJTJPO
TFSJFT
BOE
BQPDBMZQUJD
GBOUBTZ‰BOE
UIF
XBZ
UIF
#JCMF
GFBUVSFT
JO
UIFN
BQQMZJOH
WBSJPVT
IFSNFOFVUJDBM
BQQSPBDIFT
FOHBHJOH
XJUI
DSJUJDBM
UIFPSZ
BOE
QSPWJEJOH
DPODFQUVBM
SFTPVSDFT
BOE
FYBNQMFT
PG
IPX
UIF
#JCMF
SFBET
QPQVMBS
DVMUVSF
BOE
IPX
QPQVMBS
DVMUVSF
SFBET
UIF
#JCMF

1BQFS



QBHFT

$PEF
1
4FNFJB
4UVEJFT

)BSECBDL
FEJUJPO
XXXCSJMMOM

Noah and His Book(s) Edited by Michael E. Stone, Aryeh Amihay, and Vered Hillel
5IJT
DPMMFDUJPO
PG
PSJHJOBM
FTTBZT
PGGFST
OFX
JOTJHIUT
PO
UIF
RVFTUJPO
PG
UIF
MPTU
iCPPL
PG
/PBI w
BT
XFMM
BT
TUVEJFT
PG
/PBIT
mHVSF
JO
QPTUCJCMJDBM
MJUFSBUVSF
*U
GPDVTFT
PO
BODJFOU
+FXJTI
MJUFSBUVSF
JODMVEJOH
UIF
4FQUVBHJOU
UIF
"QPDSZQIB
BOE
1TFVEFQJHSBQIB
UIF
%FBE
4FB
4DSPMMT
1IJMP
+PTFQIVT
BOE
SBCCJOJD
MJUFSBUVSF
CVU
$ISJTUJBO
TPVSDFT
FTQFDJBMMZ
$ISJTUJBO
JDPOPHSB QIZ
HOPTUJD
MJUFSBUVSF
BOE
4ZSJBD
NBUFSJBM
BT
XFMM
BT
MBUFS
TPVSDFT
TVDI
BT
UIF
2VSBO
BOE
+FXJTI
NFEJFWBM
USBEJUJPOT
BSF
BMTP
DPOTVMUFE
1BQFS



QBHFT

$PEF
1
&BSMZ
+VEBJTN
BOE
*UT
-JUFSBUVSF

)BSECBDL
FEJUJPO
XXXCSJMMOM

The Story of the New Testament Text .PWFST
.BUFSJBMT
.PUJWFT
.FUIPET
BOE
.PEFMT Robert F. Hull Jr.
i3PCFSU
)VMM
IBT
XSJUUFO
B
MJWFMZ
BOE
JOTJHIUGVM
OBSSBUJWF
PG
UIF
IJTUPSJ DBM
EFWFMPQNFOU
BOE
DPOUFNQPSBSZ
QSBDUJDF
PG
/FX
5FTUBNFOU
UFYUVBM
DSJUJDJTN
CSJOHJOH
JU
SJHIU
VQUPEBUF
*O
UIF
QSPDFTT
IF
PGGFST
TVGmDJFOU
EFUBJM
BOE
OVBODF
UP
TIPX
DPNQFUFODF
QFSDFQUJPO
BOE
BDDVSBDZ
BOE
SFNBSLBCMZ
IJT
USFBUNFOU
JT
CPUI
TVDDJODU
BOE
DPNQSFIFOTJWF
JO
EFTDSJCJOH
B
IJHIMZ
DPNQMFY
mFME
"MPOH
XJUI
UIF
CBTJD
(SFFL
UFYUT
BOE
UFYUDSJUJDBM
UPPMT‰BMM
EFTDSJCFE
JO
UIF
WPMVNF‰JU
DPVME
TFSWF
XFMM
BT
BO
JOUSPEVDUPSZ
UFYUCPPLw‰Eldon Jay Epp, Harkness Professor of Biblical Literature Emeritus, Case Western Reserve University
1BQFS



QBHFT

$PEF

3FTPVSDFT
GPS
#JCMJDBM
4UVEZ

)BSECBDL
FEJUJPO
XXXCSJMMOM

4PDJFUZ
PG
#JCMJDBM
-JUFSBUVSF
t
10
#PY

8JMMJTUPO
75
 1IPOF

UPMMGSFF
PS

t
'BY
 0SEFS
POMJOF
BU
XXXTCMTJUFPSH 1PTUBHF
BOE
IBOEMJOH
FYUSB

94 Interpretation

rather than theological, with interest in recovering the origin and development of biblical traditions and in assessing their earliest meaning. Jonah is a volume in the Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible, a series aiming to revive doctrinal exegesis. Cary is driven by the conviction that “the Nicene Tradition . . . provides the proper basis for the interpretation of the Bible as Christian Scripture” (p. 11). That is an approach that I, a Jew, can respect; but I would rather call the result “a reading” than a commentary, if only because of the shrunken repertoire of resources that is commonly used when producing commentaries. Cary draws attention to two features that distinguish his effort: he discriminates between the use of Elohim as a generic term for God and of LORD (YHWH), the proper name for the Hebrew god, presuming that Gentiles would not likely have used it. In fact, in Scripture, foreigners (including pharaohs) knew his proper name and it is even cited in nonHebraic inscriptions (for example, in the Mesha stone). Cary suggests that the gourd that withers overnight stands for the line of David that has likewise shriveled, but has the potential to revive. That is a plausible reading (I had taken the same as allegory for the human condition), one that he ties christologically to the “sign of Jonah.” But the application becomes far-fetched when Cary assigns this reading to Jonah himself. Jonah is not displeased because he could not bear the “absence of the beloved Son,” but because God played tricks on him, growing, then wilting, a source of relief when under a khamsin sun. In a charming line, Cary suggests that his method of interpreting Scripture through Scripture (including the NT) should encourage Christians to read the Bible “more like Jews” (p. 22). While touched by his argument for the enduring covenant between God and Judaism (see his epilogue), I am also certain that he has not fully explored how Jews read Scripture or reflected on why they might find his sentiments about their lot gratuitous. Given the goals of the series, Cary has fulfilled this mission well. He relies on an uncompromised translation and his readers will appreciate an exegesis that enhances their Christian perceptions and values: the name “Jonah,” which means “dove,” allows him to speak of love, the Holy Spirit, peace, and the end of times; that of “Amittai” explores, among many other topics, the Judaism of Christ and the truth of Christianity. And so it goes, with humor,

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

conviction, and insight, through many pages, as Cary follows the story of Jonah until it ends, which, from his perspective, is surely also a beginning. JACK M. SASSON VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

Conceiving a Nation: The Development of Political Discourse in the Hebrew Bible by Mira Morgenstern Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, 2009. 240 pp. $65.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-271-03473-7.

AS THE BIBLE IS BANDIED about in contemporary political discourse, often as if it were a final or definitive word, Mira Morgenstern enters the conversation with a book about the HB that is strange, certainly different. Instead of focusing on the obvious, what Israel did right and her great monarchic leaders, Morgenstern investigates Israel’s conversation in moments of crisis, when the political future of Israel was up for grabs. Unlike others, she denies the claim that the HB promotes one particular model for good government, arguing instead that the best biblical model is the government not yet embodied, but in the process of becoming, as leaders and their people talk over the particularities of their current situation. To make her case, Morgenstern selects six biblical figures (Joseph, Moses, Ruth, Jotham, Samson, and Esther) that contributed to the shape of Israel’s national identity and argues that their most important contribution was their strangeness, which created dissonance and therefore a moment for dialogue. Different and therefore alienated in some way from their communities, these figures provided a critical perspective on their current realities, upsetting the status quo and proposing as yet unimagined solutions for incorporating the difference they embodied, always with an emphasis on ethical responsibility to the stranger. Biblical figures that she identifies as successful created a “dynamic sense of national identity” that was able to respond to “ever-changing challenges” (p. 133). Readers should be prepared to spend time with the book, even rereading portions in order to grasp what Morgenstern proposes. This is not an easy read. The book includes such a variety of interpretations and methods for interpreting texts that the reader will risk encountering what is “strange” and there-

Interpretation 95

REVIEWS

fore disconcerting, and perhaps that is Morgenstern’s intent. She regularly incorporates comments from the Midrash, modeling openness to multiple readings of a text. She concludes that Israel is at its best when it is open and attentive to people and perspectives at the margins and when it incorporates difference. Interestingly, her methodology matches the content of her argument. Parts of Morgenstern’s argument are incredibly tenuous, even unnecessary. Yet her treatment of the topic as a whole is worth reading, especially her chapter on Samson.

JANELL JOHNSON MERCER UNIVERSITY MACON, GEORGIA

The Historical Jesus: An Essential Guide by James H. Charlesworth Abingdon, Nashville, 2008. 131 pp. $18.00. ISBN 978-0-68702167-3.

THAT JESUS WAS A DEVOUT AND rather conservative Jew who could be extremely liberal on social issues (p. 60) succinctly summarizes the biographical portraiture of this introductory guide. In a helpful and clear format, James Charlesworth lays out and discusses twenty-seven core questions about historical Jesus research and about the man of Galilee. Most helpful is the description and understanding of early first-century religious, political, and social life. His expansive knowledge of the literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the extra-canonical writings of Second Temple Judaism, and of archaeological discoveries makes for a rich portraiture of the times in which Jesus lived. Countering the lie that Second Temple Judaism was a wasting, monolithic religion, Charlesworth’s scholarship paints a lively picture of religious life in that era. Because I am writing this review in the wake of the murderous attack inside the Holocaust museum in Washington, D. C., such words remain powerfully necessary. This book will be a helpful guide for church and synagogue classes on religious life in the early first century. In current historical Jesus scholarship, an especially sharp divide centers on two issues: how best to categorize the core of Jesus’ speech, and how to understand the essential nature of the narrative Gospels and what one can reasonably take as reliable historical reportage in them. Charlesworth clearly presents his position on these critical issues. Regarding speech and thought, Jesus communicates a vision of the

reign of God centrally defined by apocalyptic prophetic theology such as is found in the book of Daniel. Affirming this hermeneutical stance, Charlesworth’s conservative, socially liberal Jesus is hardly an exceptional character in terms of his core beliefs. He uses the term “genius” to describe Jesus, but one is left to wonder exactly what this means in relationship to the many other voices of this vision of God’s rule. A distinct alternative to this understanding is found in a focus upon Jesus’ wisdom words as the center of his communication. This book does not spend time pondering the long and strong wisdom theology heritage either in Judaism or in the broader world. Regarding the essential nature of the narrative Gospels, Charlesworth sides with those who contend that, while not biographical, the Gospels at their core are built upon historical reportage. Thus, the authorial creativity is limited to working from the presumably shared facts of the earlier era and theologically expounding upon them. Working from this understanding, the virginal conception and nature miracles will be categorized as authorial creations, while the healing miracles and the reports of the resurrection are memory-based. Readers will not find support in this volume for the view that the essential nature of these writings is parabolic. If one works from that understanding, one will come up with an idea of creativity that makes both Jesus and his narrative describers very much geniuses.

GORDON W. G. RAYNAL INMAN PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, INMAN, SOUTH CAROLINA

Call and Consequences: A Womanist Perspective on Mark by Raquel St. Clair Fortress, Minneapolis, 2008. 212 pp. $23.00. ISBN 978-0-80063902-0.

THIS IS AN IMPRESSIVE revision of Raquel St. Clair’s doctoral dissertation from Princeton Theological Seminary. In this womanist interpretation of the Gospel of Mark, St. Clair discusses the overarching themes of discipleship and suffering through the sociocultural location of African American women. In particular, suffering, shame, and surrogacy serve as heuristic keys for analyzing the consequences of Jesus’ teachings about suffering. By surveying Markan scholarship, St. Clair demonstrates that the concerns of African American women are absent, and

96 Interpretation

thus, questions revolving around divine or redemptive suffering must be analyzed with a critical view toward this missing perspective. In the analysis of Mark 8:31–38 (ch. 5), St. Clair asserts that a womanist reading of these verses causes suffering to lose its sacred standing: “Agony is not the will of God but a manifestation of moral evil” (p. 164). While she argues that both the “call” and the “consequences” of discipleship are a part of the gospel story, the consequences should not be viewed solely through the lens of divine or redemptive suffering, but rather through the “life-affirming, God-glorifying, agonyeradicating” ministry of Jesus. This compelling book was inspired, in part, by ecclesial experiences that confirmed for St. Clair how different communities of interpreters and worshipers may interpret the teachings of Jesus depending on their understanding of his call to bear the cross and suffer in the world. The dilemma of how to resolve interpretive tensions related to self-denial, agony, and “taking up the cross” led to this balanced blend of Markan scholarship and actual experiences of African American women—many of whom live on the margins of society and are considered, in the words of Zora Neale Hurston, to be “de mule uh de world” (p. 165). With this book, interpreters from various cultural backgrounds can now easily access the questions and concerns framed by womanist scholars and apply this material to the task of exploring new options and meanings of discipleship. The remnants of the dissertation are still evident, particularly in ch. 2, which summarizes Markan scholarship, and also in ch. 3, which discusses the sociolinguistic method used as the foundation for womanist biblical interpretation. Despite this minor limitation, St. Clair provides an engaging, rigorous analysis of Mark’s Jesus and challenges interpreters to reevaluate the meaning of the call to share in his suffering and to focus more on the “call to partner with Jesus in service, not pain” (p. 166). This book is required reading for any serious engagement with the Gospel of Mark and a useful supplementary text for introductory NT courses.

GAY L. BYRON COLGATE ROCHESTER CROZER DIVINITY SCHOOL ROCHESTER, NEW YORK

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Philippians: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition by Dean E. Flemming New Beacon Bible Commentary. Beacon Hill, Kansas City, 2009. 255 pp. $25.99. ISBN 978-0-8341-2411-0.

OF THE MAKING OF commentaries there is no end, and there are already some fine medium-length commentaries on Philippians (e.g., Bockmuehl, Fowl). Dean Flemming’s contribution to the New Beacon Bible Commentary series fills a void, however: a mid-length commentary that combines the sophisticated historical and theological approaches of the best commentators with additional features and perspectives that will be useful to preachers and teachers in the church. As a volume in a series written for the Wesleyan tradition (specifically the Nazarene Church), there are naturally references to Wesley and Wesleyan distinctives such as holiness, but the commentary will be beneficial to readers from all Christian traditions; Flemming cites Augustine, Chrysostom, Bonhoeffer, and several well-known hymns, for example. He has taught Philippians for many years, primarily in Europe and Asia, so his theological and pastoral insights are enhanced by his global and missional perspective (especially appropriate for Philippians) and by his attention to contextualization. As an exegete, Flemming is especially sensitive to the rhetorical aspects of the letter, the narrative character of Paul’s theology, and the communal focus of Paul’s spirituality. He identifies and traces five primary themes in Philippians: the story of Christ, the knowledge of Christ, the gracious work of God, cruciform living, and partnership in the gospel. He does not overlook “joy” or “friendship” or the theopolitical images, but neither does he overdo them. In addition to careful exegesis, for each section of the letter, the commentary provides material on historical and literary contexts (“Behind the Text”) and substantive theological reflection (“From the Text”). The strengths of this commentary are numerous. The format of the series is crisp, clean, and userfriendly, with identification of the verse(s) under discussion in the margins and the scriptural text printed in bold (NIV) or bold italics (Flemming’s translations) when cited. The exegesis is superb, the theological reflections extraordinarily insightful and useful for preaching and teaching, the background notes informative, the sidebars on related subjects interest-

Interpretation 97

REVIEWS

Fundamentals of New Testament Greek Stanley E. Por ter, Jeffrey T. Reed, and Matthew Brook O’Donnell

Fundamentals of New Testament Greek: WORKBOOK Stanley E. Por ter and Jeffrey T. Reed

“Stanley Porter and his associates show a love of the language that regards Greek not as a chore to be endured but as an art to be enjoyed. They are masters of the subject and have produced an admirable and distinctive teaching tool, enhanced by an excellent workbook.” — Anthony C. Thiselton “The great strengths of these books are their coherence, comprehensiveness, knowledge of contemporary linguistics (it is most encouraging to see verbal aspect theory laid down as part of the foundation), the wide-ranging use of Greek drawn from texts instead of artificially created snippets, and the fine integration of the workbook with the textbook. Highly recommended.” — D. A. Carson

ISBN 978-0-8028-2827-9 · 488 pages · hardcover · $39.99 Workbook

ISBN 978-0-8028-2826-2 · 272 pages · paperback · $20.00 At your bookstore, or call 800-253-7521 www.eerdmans.com

9576

98 Interpretation

ing, and the citations of other interpreters and theologians appropriate and helpful. There is an excellent, up-to-date bibliography, and the book is sprinkled with quotations from the best recent interpreters of Philippians. Finally, unlike many commentaries, this one is also simply a delight to read as a book, even cover to cover. Therefore, buy it—and keep an eye on this series.

MICHAEL J. GORMAN ST. MARY’S SEMINARY & UNIVERSITY BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

Colossians: A Commentary by Jerry L Sumney New Testament Library. Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2008. 305 pp. $49.95 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-664-22142-3.

THIS NEW COMMENTARY IS aimed at a general readership with special reference to pastors and teachers. The latter will find it potentially helpful in preparing sermons of an exegetical kind, though applications to the modern scene are passed by in this work. This work is notable in the concentration on word studies and major theological themes. A commendable feature of this commentary, which readers will appreciate, is the new translation of the text provided and a clear discussion of the textual evidence on which the translation is based. Jerry Sumney’s approach to the text is the traditional historical-critical one, with little regard paid to some more modern approaches. These would include the rhetorical and the history of interpretation disciplines. The latter goes under the cumbrous name of wirkungsgeschichtlich, which is the method that attends to the reception of the text and the subsequent effect in the church’s history. The one exception is the use made of social-scientific categories in the treating the Household Code of 3:18–4:1. The introduction treats the usual topics of authorship and destination. A current view in scholarly circles is to regard the epistle as written by an associate of Paul shortly after his death. Sumney accepts this, yet with some hesitation, and in a few places, he notes how uncertain the pseudonymous character of Colossians is. As to destination, there is no firm conclusion possible, though connections with the churches in the Lycus Valley, in what is now central Turkey, seem likely. Sumney’s chief concern is not, however, these critical questions, but the pur-

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

poses of the letter. His central point is that “the readers, and by extension all believers, have been reconciled to God and so are guiltless in God’s judgment” (p. 81) with the result that “the assertion of forgiveness is a central affirmation of the letter” (p. 91). The discussion of the poetic/hymnic section in 1:15–20 is deftly and skillfully drawn. However, Sumney hesitates about whether we can reconstruct today the original form of the passage. Even to call this passage a “hymn” is doubtful (p. 61), which is an interesting assertion, given that Sumney cannot escape using the repeated description of the passage as “hymnic.” Yet, Sumney’s interest is not with these issues; the way Colossians “battles the visionaries’ teaching” (p. 79) is his main point. The section of 2:16–23 is, by common consent, the most difficult to interpret, with v. 23 as the exegetical conundrum. Sumney’s lucid discussion does much to throw light on this dark place. In his view, the key is found in the bid to enter the secrets of the universe, with the outcome that the visionaries are left with a prideful claim to have attained this goal. The other part of the commentary deserving meritorious mention is 3:18–4:1, which receives a special excursus on the Household Code. Attention to its setting in Greco-Roman society is especially to be welcomed, and there are fresh insights from recent disciplines of social-scientific studies, especially on the role of children, wives, and slaves. For the author of Colossians, the “profound feature” (p. 240) is the way everything in this social comment is brought under the lordship of Christ. It is hard to think of any issue in Colossians that Sumney has left untouched. He has managed to do this in a way that is immediately accessible to modern readers with limited knowledge of Greek. Each Greek word is transliterated and fully explained in clear English, with translation, with only one exception (p. 87). Anyone wishing for an up-to-date treatment of this epistle in the Pauline corpus will not be disappointed by the volume. There may be one or two gaps in the bibliography. I was surprised to see no use made of Robert McL. Wilson’s 2005 commentary on Colossians in the International Critical Commentary series. And as early as 1950, Charles Masson offered one of the most attractive commentaries on the letter in the Commentaire du Nouveau Testament series, which Sumney could well have utilized. Yet these are mere pinpricks in what is intended

Interpretation 99

REVIEWS

to be a full commendation of a worthy addition to the New Testament Library Series, for which both the publishers and Sumney are to be congratulated. RALPH P. MARTIN FULLER THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY PASADENA, CALIFORNIA

Paul’s Way of Knowing: Story, Experience, and the Spirit by Ian W. Scott Baker Academic, Grand Rapids, 2009. 368 pp. $44.99. ISBN 978-0-8010-3609-5.

UTILIZING RECENT STUDIES of epistemology, and more centrally, narrative theory, Ian Scott proposes that Paul’s preaching engaged the rationality of his hearers toward their saving “emplotment” into the story of Israel, now reconfigured by the Christ story. The story of Israel remains Paul’s foundational narrative, orienting believers and potential converts to the master narrative of salvation history. By Scott’s account, human rationality is that “autonomous human activity”(p. 73) that together with the aid of the Spirit is capable of properly interpreting the divine story and the human role in it. Here, Scott means especially to call into question so-called “anti-rationalist” readings of Paul that doubt the apostle’s confidence in the human capacity to seek and find God via the rational function. In 1 Cor 1:17–2:5, for example, Scott reads a story of the renewal, not replacement, of human rationality by the Spirit. Moreover, in this Spirit-renewed rational function, he sees the recovery of the moral agent, now enabled to move “into a new system of values in which the Gospel is rational and plausible” (p. 44). The bulk of Scott’s argument, namely that Paul relies on human reason and persuasion to bring hearers into saving religious knowledge of their “good role” (i.e., moral behavior) via “emplotment” in the story of God’s dealing with Israel, rests in Scott’s reading of Galatians as a prime example of Paul’s “narrative reasoning” (p. 234). Paul begins by situating himself and his conversion in that primary narrative and then negotiates a number of “interpretive gaps” (i.e., the crucifixion of God’s Son) to reconfigure Israel’s story—specifically the story of Torah, “so that it can now be seen to offer a second way of approach to God—the way of faith, distinct

from the way of law” (p. 215). The key to the polemic and central thesis of this book lies in the debate between two schools of Pauline theology. The school to which Scott seems to belong, that of Heilsgeschichte theology, sees Paul’s story of Jesus Christ as the latest chapter in the longer and indispensible story of God’s historic and saving dealings with Israel, a story of divine offer and human (rational) response. Indeed, as Scott approvingly puts it, “the death and resurrection receive their meaning only in the context of (this) larger interconnected story” (p. 113). The other school, rather, finds Paul witness to a novel, indeed invasive and apocalyptic, saving event, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, whose context in Israel’s history is not ultimately indispensible to its meaning but rather provides, in the words of J. M. G. Barclay, “a dispensible illustration of a universal pattern” (cited by Scott on p. 111). At issue in this debate is not least the question of agency— divine, human or some combination—in the saving event. Scott has made an impressive contribution to “New Perspective” readings of Paul, and specifically to the field of Christian ethics, in arguing for a specific course of rational reflection by way of narrative theory as Paul’s “way of knowing.” Some readers will wish for a more robust doctrine of the Spirit, whose activity at the advent of Christ is for Paul utterly new and not merely renewing, and for a more serious grappling with Paul’s pervasive skepticism concerning the autonomous human capacity to choose the right story.

ALEXANDRA BROWN WASHINGTON AND LEE UNIVERSITY LEXINGTON, VIRGINIA

The First Letter of Peter by Reinhard Feldmeier Baylor University Press, Waco, 2008. 317 pp. $29.95. ISBN 9781-60258-024-4.

REINHARD FELDMEIER’S interpretation of 1 Peter is based in at least two central affirmations. One concerns the status and experience of the letter’s recipients as minorities and societal outsiders in a context in which they expereinced hostility or persecution by the surrounding society. Second, this “foreignness” reflects not just a situation of societal conflict, but is also fundamental to Christian existence. “Foreign-

100 Interpretation

ness” is thus theological, rooted in relationship with God and constitutive of Christian identity. Basic to this identity of belonging to God is election to and membership in God’s people through “rebirth as an eschatological renewal of existence” (p. 14). These ecclesiological and eschatological dimensions shape the ethical actions of Christian existence in the world where believers encounter opposition and suffering. Feldmeier finds this “foreignness” to be central to 1 Peter’s structure. After the opening address to foreigners (1:1–2), 1 Peter 1:3–2:10 provides the reason for their foreignness, their “rebirth” and membership of the people of God. First Peter 2:11– 5:11 then develops their freedom and obedience (and suffering) as foreigners in society. The commentary is well-presented, clear in its organization, and quite accessible and helpful in its discussion of the text of 1 Peter. Although the subtitle is “A Commentary on the Greek Text,” those without facility in Greek will find that Greek words are not pervasive, and that when used, they are accompanied by translations. Feldmeier overstates the context of persecution and rejection of the world that is foundational to his reading. His assumption that all Christians rejected participation in the imperial cult is unnuanced and too monolithic, failing to grapple adequately with 2:17. The ambiguity of 1 Peter’s insistence on honorable conduct among the Gentiles so that they glorify God (2:12) makes little sense if believers were so withdrawn. Likewise, as Feldmeier notes, 1 Peter’s household material on submissive slaves and wives mimics societal values and practices. While Feldmeier generally focuses on the late first-century context in his interpretations, he defends 1 Peter’s subordinationist ethic against contemporary criticism emphasizing freedom and equality, pointing out that 1 Peter’s emphases on love and humility sought “to reduce the potential for violence inherent in these structures” (p. 191). While this contextualization is important, much more must be said to aid the thoughtful engagement of contemporary Christians with this difficult material. WARREN CARTER BRITE DIVINITY SCHOOL FORT WORTH, TEXAS

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Body, Soul, and Human Life: The Nature of Humanity in the Bible by Joel B. Green Baker Academic, Grand Rapids, 2008. 240 pp. $19.99. ISBN 978-0-8010-3595-1.

WITH RECENT ADVANCES in neuroscience, new questions have been raised concerning the most fundamental characteristics of human beings. Inevitably, these new discoveries and the theories to which they have given rise have challenged dearly treasured theological principles, such as the nature of personal identity, the locus of our consciousness, and the possibility of free will. Instead of resorting to an isolationist eschewal of the results of this scientific investigation, or obstinately wrestling against them, Joel Green deftly and masterfully analyzes recent trends in neurobiology and related fields, and argues for a foundational correspondence between the results of scientific inquiry and biblical anthropology. After an initial chapter recapitulating the state of theological perspectives on humanity and personhood, Green investigates four related theological themes in light of the modern scientific challenges: the existence of the soul in light of scientific materialism and monadism; the possibility of free will—as well as the human impulse toward sin—in light of neurobiological determinacy; the nature of religious conversion or repentance in light of human capacities for neurological change; and the nature of a bodily resurrection considered from a materialist standpoint. Throughout the course of these studies, two principles receive particular emphasis, and Green finds their confirmation in the biblical text: the unified embodiment of humanity (along with a corresponding resistance to anthropologies featuring body/soul dualism) and the relational nature of humans to community and to God (over against essentialist descriptions of humans seeking to define them as isolated individuals). While Green’s hermeneutical application of the neurosciences may be disconcerting to some, especially with its corresponding rejection of a few wellworn and familiar theological tenets, the product is a streamlined and ultimately quite compelling reframing of Christian beliefs in light of recent scientific advances. Green surveys a wide variety of biblical texts, always providing thoughtful and cogent readings. His nuanced treatment of the scientific literature, which could become an indecipherable jumble

Interpretation 101

REVIEWS

RECENT BOOKS from EERDMANS CALVIN’S LADDER

A Spiritual Theology of Ascent and Ascension

Julie Canlis “It is rare to find a book that is historically rigorous, theologically rich, lucidly written, and at the same time pastorally engaging: this book by Julie Canlis is all of these. A superb exposition of a theme at the very heart of the Christian life.” — Jeremy Begbie ISBN 978-0-8028-6449-9 • 298 pages • paperback • $32.00

THINKING WITH THE CHURCH Essays in Historical Theology

B. A. Gerrish “Brian Gerrish’s work as a historical theologian always anticipating the systematic theological task continues unsurpassed. . . . Of particular value in this book is its further, thought-provoking illumination of ‘tradition’ as ever the duty of — in his mentor John Calvin’s words — faithfully handing on only by first forming as best we can.” — Schubert M. Ogden ISBN 978-0-8028-6452-9 • 313 pages • paperback • $25.00

THE KUYPER CENTER REVIEW

Volume : Politics, Religion, and Sphere Sovereignty Gordon Graham, editor A distinguished roster of Kuyper experts explore themes relating to sphere sovereignty and civil society. Many of the essays have a broadly “political” character, some addressing contemporary issues, others of a more historical nature. ISBN 978-0-8028-6491-8 • 160 pages • paperback • $24.00

LEX CHARITATIS

A Juristic Disquisition on Law in the Theology of Martin Luther Emory University Studies in Law and Religion

Johannes Heckel “This translation of Lex Charitatis makes available to the English-speaking world an essential study of Luther’s doctrine of law. The German editions of the book had a major impact on Luther scholarship, and Gottfried Krodel’s translation will greatly expand the reach and influence of this great work.” — Jay Conison ISBN 978-0-8028-6445-1 • 590 pages • paperback • $35.00

NATURAL LAW AND THE TWO KINGDOMS A Study in the Development of Reformed Social Thought Emory University Studies in Law and Religion

David VanDrunen “Very impressive and valuable. I know of no comparable overview of this topic. The scope is massive, the selection and treatment of representative figures are meticulous, and the potential implications are significant. . . . This is a first-rate piece of work!” — Max L. Stackhouse ISBN 978-0-8028-6443-7 • 480 pages • paperback • $35.00

At your bookstore, or call 800-253-7521 www.eerdmans.com

Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 0023

2140 Oak Industrial Dr NE Grand Rapids, MI 49505

102 Interpretation

of jargon in the wrong hands, is clear, concise, and carefully organized. The book is, simply stated, a fascinating piece of work that has the potential to challenge and engage the most experienced theologians while at the same time proving accessible to theological neophytes. By carving out of scientific discovery a theological space for a relational God on whom humanity remains dependent, and who continually invites us into covenant in spite of all our (neurological) brokenness, Green invites renewed interaction between the theological and scientific communities. One hopes the ensuing dialogue will prove fruitful.

JEREMY M. HUTTON PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

The Indelible Image: The Theological and Ethical Thought World of the New Testament, Vol. 1: The Individual Witnesses by Ben Witherington III InterVarsity, Downers Grove, Ill., 2009. 856 pp. $50.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-8308-3861-5.

BEN WITHERINGTON IS the most prolific NT scholar of our time. Having completed commentaries on every book of the NT, he is presently engaged in writing a two-volume theology of the NT. This first volume focuses on Jesus and the various writers of the NT in this order: Jesus, Paul, James, Jude, Peter, the unknown author of Hebrews, the authors of the Johannine Epistles and the Fourth Gospel, the Synoptic writers, and the authors of Revelation and 2 Peter. Descriptive in approach, this volume highlights how each of these writers carries out the task of doing theology and ethics. The overarching theme of Witherington’s project, as the title of his work suggests, is how salvation brings about a renewal of the divine image in and through Jesus Christ. Thus sanctification plays a major role in Witherington’s analysis of the NT writings. Of the many admirable traits of this volume, I will mention only seven. First, it insists upon the unity of theology and ethics in the writings of the NT. Second, it consistently explains the meaning of the NT writings in light of their historical setting. Third, it emphasizes the continuity between the message of Jesus and the message of the NT writings. Fourth, it provides extended treatments of writings that are often marginalized in many NT

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

theologies, for example, the Epistle to the Hebrews and the letters of Peter, James, and Jude. Fifth, it provides helpful summaries at the end of each section that highlight the theological significance of the writings that have been studied. Sixth, it studiously avoids technical jargon. And seventh, it is engaged with a wide cross-section of NT scholarship. Witherington’s engagement with other authors, however, becomes a liability at times, distracting him and his readers from the task at hand. Moreover, his lively and engaging writing style is often too clever. This happens, for example, when he titles his chapter on the Synoptic Gospels, “One-Eyed Gospels,” and his study of the Johannine literature, “Beloved Theology and Ethics.” Finally, while his treatments of the individual writings are always helpful, they tend to be mini-commentaries rather than expositions of the inner theological coherence of the writings under study. This work, which is intended for a wider audience than scholars, should be especially helpful to students and pastors. I look forward to the second volume, which promises to be more synthetic and systematic in nature. FRANK J. MATERA THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA WASHINGTON, D. C.

Martin Luther’s Theology: A Contemporary Interpretation by Oswald Bayer; translated by Thomas H. Trapp Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2008. 398 pp. $32.00. ISBN 978-08028-2799-9.

IN THIS TRANSLATION OF Oswald Bayer’s commentary on Martin Luther’s theology, we find the German Luther scholar at his best. True to the book’s title, which claims to be a “contemporary interpretation” of Luther’s thought, Bayer covers the great classical themes of the Reformer’s theology, such as the theologia crucis, the deus absconditus, law and gospel, and the nature of theology, bearing in mind the question: what has enduring value through the stream of historical change? He argues that what makes Martin Luther and his theology relevant today are the fundamental questions that the Reformer asked about how salvation and blessedness enter into a world broken by sin, and how humans gain confidence in the graciousness of God. In a way that is characteristically Bayer, he brings Luther into

REVIEWS

conversation with modern German interlocutors, and sets the medieval thinker’s own theological quandaries next to modern theological challenges, such as does God work through evil? And, what does “evangelical” really mean to the Reformer? Bayer addresses such questions as he briefly returns to themes that have shaped his career, such as the claim that Luther’s reformational discovery is an insight into the nature of God’s Word as that which performs an action upon the hearer. He also revisits the theme of promissio, which has been central to his own theology. It is finally Luther’s struggle for the truth, not as a systematic theologian but as a scholar of the OT, Bayer argues, that connects him to the task and struggle of theology today. This book is valuable for those visiting or revisiting the enduring themes in Martin Luther’s theology. It brings insight into the concerns that shaped Luther’s reflections, but also works to hear the Reformer’s ideas through the tensions that shape theology today. Bayer touches upon, but does not try to solve, the thornier questions about Luther’s theology, such as his claims about orders of creation and his infamous remarks about the Jews. Nor does Bayer spend much time reflecting upon the complexities that face (post)modern Christians. He seeks to give a portrait of Martin Luther that connects to Christians today in a fundamental and straightforward way. Bayer sees the Reformer as a contemporary to the modern Christian in that the medieval thinker was doing what he could to make sense of life, humanity, and God between the old age and the new.

AMY MARGA LUTHER SEMINARY SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA

Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World by Serene Jones Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 200 pp. $24.95. ISBN 978-0-664-23410-2.

THIS IS A TIMELY AND profound theological contribution to current interdisciplinary discussions of trauma and the self. The book’s persistent question is: “How can the human spirit survive traumatic violence?” Serene Jones, President of Union Seminary in New York, calls her collection “theological poems” (p. vii) rather than scholarly essays. Indeed,

Interpretation 103

there is an almost Frederick Buechner-like storytelling quality to these nine new and previously published essays. But don’t be fooled. There is theological depth and theoretical sophistication in this slim volume. Jones breaks ground in the areas of theological methodology, pastoral theology, and doctrine. Ministers and theologians have always pondered why bad things—truly horrific things—happen to good people in ways that make them lose their faith and feel bereft of God’s love. The heartbeat of Jones’ book is her method for deciphering this relationship between trauma and grace. As she writes, “This is a tall order, but we do not have to start from scratch” (p. 21). Jones employs a methodological approach that has a small but growing following in theological circles today. She takes the findings of clinical psychologists working with trauma victims and applies them to real-life encounters with people trying to repair their shattered lives in the context of their Christian faith. From this approach springs pastoral wisdom. The Christian message of God’s love must address the reality of fragmented selves—to use the current clinical terms: the hyperarousal, dissociation, anxiety, and depression affecting those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. There are no easy, formulaic answers—only an insistent urging to deepen our understanding of how traumatized individuals can lose the ability to imagine grace. Theologians will be challenged by this book. Liberal theologians will be challenged by Jones’ uncanny ability to make the “classics” of the Christian tradition immediately relevant to the most hardcore realities of contemporary violence. She exposits Calvin’s Commentary on the Psalms against the backdrop of an inner-city drive-by shooting, and tells Luke’s story of the road to Emmaus in the aftermath of 9/11. Liberal and conservative theologians will be challenged by her sustained engagement with the cross in Part 2 (“Crucified Imaginings”) and her reflections on miscarriage in “Hope Deferred,” which in my judgment, is the most profound theological statement about women’s reproductive realities to appear since Ivone Gebara’s “The Abortion Debate in Brazil: A Report from an Ecofeminist Philosopher Under Siege” (Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 11.1 [1995]: 129–35). In sum, Jones lays bare our “trauma-wizened” (p. 157) world and invites readers to imagine new shapes

104 Interpretation

and new performances of the mysteries of God’s grace.

MARGARET D. KAMITSUKA OBERLIN COLLEGE OBERLIN, OHIO

Serving the Word: Preaching in Worship by Melinda A. Quivik Elements of Preaching. Fortress, Minneapolis, 2009. 96 pp. $12.00. ISBN 978-0-8006-6198-4.

THE TITLE OF THIS BOOK aptly and pointedly describes its primary focus. The word of God is the foundational principle of Christian worship. All of what the church should be about is to serve the word in worship, preaching, and sacrament. The book’s thesis argues for the mutuality of relationship between worship and preaching, “because both are founded in the word of God” (p. 7). As worship serves the preached word, preaching serves the liturgical word. Melinda Quivik uses the Emmaus story (Luke 24:13–35) as both a foundational and biblical basis for the church’s liturgical pattern. Gathering, word, meal/response, and sending as incarnated in the road to Emmaus eliminate any kind of separation we might try to make between preaching and worship. “Preaching and the breaking of bread are intimately connected” (p. 2). Quivik also grounds the pattern of the worshiping community in the historical context of the Reformation’s insistence on the relationship between faith, the word, and the meal. On the basis of this theological, biblical, and historical framework, Quivik turns to a case study in order to illuminate the kinds of issues that surface when attention is given to the reciprocity of preaching and worship. Ash Wednesday serves as the liturgical example by which to view the relationship between sermon preparation and worship structure. The remainder of the book tends to each of the movements in worship separately, using the specificity of the Ash Wednesday example to identify particular questions and challenges in each stage of the church’s liturgical pattern. This volume in the Elements of Preaching series (O. Wesley Allen Jr., editor) will find an audience in pastors looking for a theological refresher, or perhaps a theological rationale, for the relationship between preaching and worship. The most fitting audience, however, is the seminary preaching class, where a principal goal is to help students realize that

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

the sermon is not an isolated event. The lens of service and mutuality between sermon and worship provides a critical perspective for beginning preachers who tend to imagine a call to the preached word alone. A more pointed analysis of the difficulties in maintaining this reciprocity would lend a certain candidness about the challenges of mutuality when trying to respect the specificity and particularity of each biblical lesson. While Quivik’s argument for the hertzpunkt (heart point) that unifies the lectionary texts, and thus justifies a sermon on all three lections, is a useful hermeneutical tool, a more developed critique of the lectionary might contribute to an appreciation of the worship service that is as unique as the voice of each biblical text.

KAROLINE M. LEWIS LUTHER SEMINARY ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA

More Power in the Pulpit: How America’s Most Effective Black Preachers Prepare Their Sermons edited by Cleophas J. LaRue Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 164 pp. $19.95. ISBN 978-0-664-23278-8.

IN THIS SEQUEL TO Power in the Pulpit (Westminster John Knox, 2002), Cleophas LaRue gathers another grand array of ten prominent black preachers. Each has been called upon to share just how they prepare sermons in the unrelenting cycles of the preaching task. The text covers a wide range of vital interests as it treats the process and methods of sermon preparation. These include wrestling with sacred texts; divine activity; the theology of preaching as well as theological formation in sermons; cultural hermeneutics; telling “the story” and our stories; the role of the congregation; and the challenges and gifts of manuscripts, outlines, and memory. The power of More Power in the Pulpit, like its forerunner, emerges from the mentoring and apprenticeship practices of black preaching traditions among a myriad of denominations and churches. These preachers teach from the junction of education and training exercised through their richly distinctive preaching experience. The folk wisdom of decades in the preaching ministry cannot be suppressed, even within the literary genre of textual tutoring. The honest confessions are as instructive as the time-tested personal steps in sermon construc-

Interpretation 105

REVIEWS

GOOD PREACHING TRANSFORMS LIVES Doctor of Ministry in Biblical Preaching

/.*&/-*&,+), ppp'enma^kl^f'^]n([i

106 Interpretation

tion. As the contributors reflect on their pastoral contexts and identities, sharing their call narratives and struggles, readers gain insights into the diverse practices presented by these preachers. Quite dramatically, a particular strength of this volume is the access it offers to black women preaching mentors. As black churches continue to struggle with opening pulpits to women and their pastoral leadership, the inclusion of four prominent women preachers offers mentors to women questioning their calling and women already in the quest. Black men and churches at large also gain insight to their wisdom and are invited into liberating solidarity. Another unique vantage point of this volume is the opportunity to peer into the generational differences of a father and son in distinct and yet fluid preaching ministries. Amidst the variety of preaching styles, readers will glean valued advice for each step in the process of sermon preparation as well as for the challenges of congregational care and self-care. The prospect for learning here extends well beyond the doors of black churches to include any church or preacher eager to learn from God’s gifts and gifted ones.

DALE P. ANDREWS VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

Living Christianity: A Pastoral Theology for Today by Shannon Craigo-Snell and Shawnthea Monroe Fortress, Minneapolis, 2009. 194 pp. $22.00. ISBN 978-0-80066381-0.

THIS BOOK REPRESENTS A special effort by two colleagues—Shanwthea Monroe, a pastor, and Shannon Craigo-Snell, a teacher of theology—to collaborate in writing a pastoral theology that honors the passions and perspectives of both vocations as they seek to serve the church. The pattern pervading each of five chapters focused on particular Christian doctrines (creation, Christ, sin, church, and heaven) is that the authors address the chosen theme from their particular location. But the manner in which this is exercised is exceedingly varied. Sometimes a theological summary is articulated, often with rich though succinct allusion to major theological developments in church history or modernity, followed by a sermon or congregational analysis that shows how a given doctrine can inform proclamation in

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Christian worship or may illumine the characteristic behavior of particular congregations. In one chapter, a pastoral account of how a given doctrine grounds pastoral ministry is supplemented by a constructive theological attempt to recast imaginatively how we think about the matter. In another, living questions from the pastor’s congregants provide the occasion for lively exchange between Craigo-Snell and Monroe that maps the terrain of when theological precision may be trumped by pastoral compassion. Living Christianity is a title that carries at least two meanings. On one hand, it identifies the book as recalling both the academic work of theology and the pastoral undertaking of ministry to the common task of serving real, live Christian communities. On the other hand, it portrays Christian faith not as a static arrangement but as an ongoing, living dialogue between Scripture, tradition, and present experience; among pastors, theologians, and laity; and with pastors and theologians informing and learning from one another. More than once, the authors lament the fact that the genre they are creating for theological reflection leaves them vulnerable to criticisms of failing to nuance their theological judgments fully. And while most readers are likely to see places where they would like to enter such criticisms, this project is surely worth the risk. In the end, theological understanding is sharpened and pastoral ministry is strengthened by the authors’ respectful yet feisty engagement. They thereby embody the hope with which they conclude: “Yet if we can bridge the gap and bring ourselves into closer communion, the results have the power to challenge and transform the way pastors do ministry and the way professors do theology” (p. 175).

D. CAMERON MURCHISON COLUMBIA THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY DECATUR, GEORGIA

Pastoral Care of Alcohol Abusers by Andrew J. Weaver and Harold G. Koenig Fortress, Minneapolis, 2009. 77 pp. $16.00. ISBN 978-0-80066261-5.

THOUGH THE INCIDENCE OF alcohol abuse and dependency has risen to nearly twenty percent of the American population, the church and its clergy lack accessible resources for caring for its victims. With this thin volume, Andrew Weaver and Harold Koenig help to remedy this deficiency. Their primary

Interpretation 107

REVIEWS

audience is clear: “clergy and other pastoral workers who work with individuals experiencing alcohol and related problems, such as depression, psychological trauma, gambling, or grief reactions” (p. 3). Along with its clear purpose, the book’s format makes recent research into alcohol abuse and dependence readily available to the harried pastoral caregiver by organizing the material around pastoral vignettes that will be immediately recognizable to those committed to the tender and solicitous care of a flock. The first presenter with an alcohol abuse problem is a sixteen-year-old girl who is grieving her brother’s tragic death with leukemia. The second parishioner is a twenty-five-year-old single professional who has a “craving for alcohol and gambling” and who lives with his parents. The third victim is a grieving older woman in her mid-seventies who develops later-onset alcohol dependence precipitated in large part by a complicated grief-reaction and aggravated by a major depressive disorder. The final presenter is a retired drinker who has grown bored with traveling and has suffered a series of physical setbacks along with a jolting adjustment to life in a retirement facility. What this format accomplishes is twofold. First, the use of pastoral vignettes concretizes the more global psychiatric diagnostic measures that distinguish alcohol abuse from alcohol dependence. This staging also introduces the reader to complicated grief reactions and post-traumatic stress disorders in practical and less technical terms than those of a textbook on psychopathology. Second, by using actual clinical cases, Weaver and Koenig pinpoint how church professionals and mental health professionals can work together in healing the individual, familial, and marital brokenness of alcohol abuse and dependence. One of the primary strengths of the book is its comprehensive survey of resources and its inclusion of up-to-date bibliographical data, along with a helpful glossary of terms and a summary of symptoms and syndromes. In every chapter, there is conclusive research into the value of faith communities for the prevention and healing of disease. The book is permeated by the hopeful realism of both psychiatric and ecclesial perspectives on the disease of alcoholism. If readers are looking for a systematic correlation of sin and sickness from these two professionals, they will be disappointed. One of the limitations of

this work is that it offers the insights of pastoral psychology, not pastoral theology. The theology is reduced to ecclesiology, or what the church can do as a social and spiritual support system. However, in the Reformed tradition, alcohol abuse/dependence is also conceived of as a sin, i.e., as a simultaneous assertion and flight from self, both spawned, as it were, by anxiety over finitude. One can only wonder if by “spiritual,” the authors refer to how the atoning work of Jesus Christ can effect the personal and social transformation that the church mediates and in which it participates. But that is a topic for another book. For now, this book will suffice as a handy aid to the beleaguered pastoral caregiver. CHARLES E. BROWN UNION PRESBYTERIAN SEMINARY RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

The Political Dimension of Reconciliation: A Theological Analysis of Ways of Dealing With Guilt During the Transition to Democracy in South Africa and (East) Germany by Ralf K. Wüstenberg; translated by Randi H. Lundell Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2009. 458 pp. $50.00 ISBN 978-08028-2824-8.

RALF WÜSTENBERG, OF Freie Universität Berlin, has turned his attention to the national reconciliation processes in South Africa and East Germany. In this book, he explores the relationship between the spiritual, or theological, and the political processes of reconciliation in these two nations, asking the question, “How similar is theological reconciliation to political reconciliation?” He does impressive work translating political events into theological language. Wüstenberg pays great attention to the methodology required by interdisciplinary work, but his own theology carries Reformed assumptions. For example, he considers the relationship between the political and the spiritual “legitimate” only if indirect, and “illegitimate” if direct (pp. xx–xxi). Wüstenberg examines various other theologies for their potential in relating the political and the spiritual, and notes that process theology has the most potential toward articulating a relationship. Political reconciliation is penultimate, and theological reconciliation is ultimate, but Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “adopted process theology is that in the penultimate a glim-

108 Interpretation

mer of the ultimate can be seen as the interruption of the occasion or event” (p. 237). Despite this acknowledgement of the potential of concepts from process theology for interdisiplinary work, however, Wüstenberg continues in Reformed tradition, viewing politics and theology as separate. He fails at places to break out of linguistic and disciplinary categories and restrictions. Because the political is a-personal, and the theological is personal, by definition the political and the theological cannot coexist. For example, forgiveness is always spiritual, and thus amnesty is not to be equated with forgiveness. Reparations are a legal event, but suspect theologically, if one thinks that they accomplish spiritual reality. In South Africa, although there is explicit talk of national reconciliation, there is none about atonement, a theological category. Thus, political reconciliation does not mean spiritual reconciliation. In Germany, the word “reconciliation,” which in German has implications of the theological category of atonement, is not used in nation-building vocabulary. Therefore, because of the missing language link, “political reconciliation as the growing together of a nation does not appear to have a basic connection to theological reconciliation” (p. 263). Translated from the German, this book is not easy reading. However, this is a significant work in the relationship of Reformed theological concepts with political events and language. Despite some lapses into the use of vocabulary as the medium for exploring correspondence or relationship between disciplines, very important work has been done in interpreting political events into theological language.

SHARON M. TAN UNITED THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY OF THE TWIN CITIES NEW BRIGHTON, MINNESOTA

Theology and Film: Challenging the Sacred/Secular Divide by Christopher Deacy and Gaye Williams Ortiz Blackwell, Malden, Mass, 2008. 245 pp. $32.95. ISBN 978-14051-4438-4.

CHRISTOPHER DEACY AND Gaye Williams Ortiz collaborate to continue Ortiz’s previous work in Explorations in Theology and Film (Wiley-Blackwell, 1997) so that it might reflect a post-9/11 theological, religious, and cultural context. Written to

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

appeal to an international market and to the secondyear undergraduate student and up, the culture and theology to which they refer is that of Western American Christianity. The book is divided into two sections. The first is devoted to theoretical and methodological questions that arise in both theological and film studies. Within this first section, ch. 1 addresses “in detail the work of H. Richard Niebuhr, whose 1952 publication Christ and Culture remains an important benchmark against which contemporary developments in the modern theology and film interchange should be viewed” (p. ix.). Each of Niebuhr’s Christ and Culture stances is described and evaluated for its propensity to foster dialogue between theology and film. The history of each stance and its application to film studies is given. The second part of the book applies the insights gleaned in the first part to a variety of theological perspectives and film themes by focusing on six areas: feminism, the environment, violence, justice, war, and eschatology. The final chapter looks at different theological perspectives on filmmaking and asks whether, and to what extent, there is a bidirectional dialogical process between theology and film. Deacy and Ortiz assert that there is indeed a dialogue between theology and film. Moreover, they claim, “that a film can (and should) challenge our reading of theology just as theology can (and should) challenge our reading of films” (p. 200). By all means, use this book in a course on theology and film. It adds much to the dialogue between theology and film; however, its ending is somewhat weak. The book tries to treat film as an equal partner in the dialogue. While it is laudable to handle film critically and respectfully, theology and film are not equal dialogue partners. By its very nature, systematic theology is far more exhaustive and detailed than film can be. Film tells a story visually and aurally, and is created for its entertainment value. Theology helps to tell “The Story,” and is created to explain and describe one’s faith and relationship with the God of Creation. In a dialogue between the two, theology may challenge our reading of a film, but a film can only illuminate theology; the sacred and secular divide remains. FELECIA TAYLOR DOUGLASS CHESTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH CHESTER, VIRGINIA

Interpretation 109

REVIEWS

RECENT BOOKS FROM EERDMANS DRAWN TO FREEDOM

Christian Faith Today in Conversation with the Heidelberg Catechism

Eberhard Busch “Busch is one of the most important contemporary voices in Reformed theology. He draws deep from the well of the Reformed tradition and, with penetrating analysis, engages in one of the most instructive, illuminating, and lively theological conversations of our day.” — Richard Burnett - ʙÇn‡ä‡näÓn‡ÈÎÇn‡ÓÊUÊÎÇÇÊ«>}iÃÊUÊ«>«iÀL>VŽÊUÊfÎÓ°ää

COMMANDING GRACE Studies in Karl Barth’s Ethics

Edited by Daniel L. Migliore

“This authoritative collection is a notable addition to the rediscovery of Barth’s ethical thought. The essayists know Barth well, take him seriously as a moral theologian, and offer their readers well-articulated judgments.” — John Webster - ʙÇn‡ä‡näÓn‡ÈxÇä‡äÊUÊÓÈxÊ«>}iÃÊUÊ«>«iÀL>VŽÊUÊfÎä°ää

RECONCILED HUMANITY Karl Barth in Dialogue

Hans Vium Mikkelsen “An important contribution to contemporary theology by one of Europe’s finest young theologians. Hans Vium Mikkelsen’s dynamic rereading of Barth looks beyond the Swiss giant, and the enduring questions he raised, to discover new answers for a new generation.” — William Stacy Johnson - ʙÇn‡ä‡näÓn‡ÈÎÈ·nÊUÊә{Ê«>}iÃÊUÊ«>«iÀL>VŽÊUÊfÎä°ää

NEITHER CALENDAR NOR CLOCK Perspectives on the Belhar Confession Piet J. Naudé

“This book is a powerful testimony to a ‘humanizing Christian theology’ — a witness to God and an ethical challenge to us all.”

— Michael Welker - ʙÇn‡ä‡näÓn‡ÈÓx™‡{ÊUÊÓnnÊ«>}iÃÊUÊ«>«iÀL>VŽÊUÊfÓx°ää

At your bookstore, or call 800-253-7521 www.eerdmans.com

0525

110 Interpretation

Book

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

Notes

Jesus, The Final Days: What Really Happened by Craig A. Evans and N.T. Wright; edited by Troy A. Miller Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2009. 116 pp. $14.95. ISBN 978-0-664-23359-4.

Evans and Wright, both of whom have made distinguished contributions to the quest for the historical Jesus, concisely and compellingly address the three essential elements of the Apostles’ Creed: the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. Both share the conviction that behind the creed and behind the faith claims of the Christian movement is history. The death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus are not merely theological ideas, but actual events that awakened faith and later prompted theological inquiry. Evans authors the first two chapters on the death and burial, and Wright authors the final chapter on the resurrection.

Jesus in Memory: Traditions in Oral and Scribal Perspectives edited by Werner H. Kelber and Samuel Byrskog Baylor University Press, Waco, 2009. 291 pp. $49.95 (cloth). ISBN 978-1-60258-235-4.

Few scholars have influenced NT scholarship in the areas of orality, memory, and tradition more profoundly than Birger Gerhardsson. Today, as these topics have again become important in biblical scholarship, his pioneering work takes on a new light. Eight contributors (including Christopher Tuckett, David Aune, Loveday Alexander, and Werner Kelber) take on the dual task of evaluating Gerhardsson’s contribution anew and bringing his insights up to date within the current debate.

Christology: A Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Study of Jesus, Second Edition by Gerald O’Collins, S. J. Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2009. 400 pp. $35.00. ISBN 978-0-19-955787-5.

This second edition of an accessible account of systematic Christology, first published in 1995,

includes fresh material on current discussions in Christology: the use of “near-death” and bereavement experiences as analogies to the post-resurrection appearances of Christ; contemporary philosophical theology and the case for the logical coherence of the incarnation; the universal redemptive activity of Christ; and the place and possibilities of “presence” as an organizing category in Christology. O’Collins also covers specific theological approaches, including Luther’s theology of the cross and liberation theology. The bibliography has been fully revised and updated.

Strangely Familiar: Protofeminist Interpretations of Patriarchal Biblical Texts edited by Nancy Calvert-Koyzis and Heather E. Weir Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta, 2009. 291 pp. $35.95. ISBN 978-1-58983-453-8.

This volume contributes to the recovery of "lost" biblical scholarship by seventeenth- to nineteenthcentury women (including Arcangela Tarabotti, Aemelia Lanyer, Josephine Butler, and Antoinette Brown Blackwell) who worked to liberate women from interpretations of the Bible that proved oppressive to them. Twenty contributors assess the works of these forerunners, or protofeminists, in light of contemporary feminist approaches. The collection as a whole illustrates the significance of these neglected works for reception history, biblical studies, and women’s studies.

Reading Genesis After Darwin edited by Stephen C. Barton and David Wilkinson Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2009. 288 pp. $24.95. ISBN 978-0-19-538336-2.

There is a widespread assumption that before Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of the Species, all Christians believed that the world was created some 6,000 years ago over a period of six days, and that after Darwin, the first chapters of Genesis were either rejected totally by skeptics or defended vehemently in scientific creationism. This book tells a different story. Essays by biblical

Interpretation 111

REVIEWS

Cascade Books An Imprint of WIPF and STOCK Publishers

Visit our Web site at www.wipfandstock.com

READING REVELATION RESPONSIBLY UNCIVIL WORSHIP AND WITNESS Following the Lamb in the New Creation

Michael J. Gorman Reading Revelation Responsibly is for those who are confused by, afraid of, and/or preoccupied with the book of Revelation. In rescuing the Apocalypse from those who either completely misinterpret it or completely ignore it, Michael Gorman has given us both a guide to reading Revelation in a responsible way and a theological engagement with the text itself. ISBN 13: 978-1-60608-560-8 230 pp. | $25 | paper

“Sometimes I think there are only two kinds of Christians in America: those who’ve never read Revelation and those who read almost nothing else. This book can help either kind. With careful use of scholarship and an evident love for the Lamb who was slain, Michael Gorman demystifies a book that’s meant to clarify what’s at stake when we say, ‘Jesus is Lord.’”

—Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove author of The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture

“With an exceptional blend of scholarly insight and confessional grounding, this book restores Revelation to relevance for the mission of the church. Gorman joins John of Patmos to inspire us with a risky and lofty vision of following the Lamb in radical and nonviolent witness in the world. This accessible volume is a theological wellspring for preachers, teachers, and any disciples seeking a reliable alternative to the scaremongering eschatology that clogs airwaves and bookstores.”

—J. Nelson Kraybill author of Apocalypse and Allegiance: Worship, Politics, and Devotion in the Book of Revelation

o r d e r s @ w i p f a n d s t o c k . c o m | Te l . ( 5 4 1 ) 3 4 4 - 1 5 2 8 | A v a i l a b l e i n b o o k s t o r e s

112 Interpretation

scholars, historians, and contemporary theologians demonstrate that both Jewish and Christian scholars read Genesis in a nonliteral way long before Darwin. Even during the nineteenth century, a wide range of responses from religious believers toward evolution existed, many of them positive. Far from burying these ancient texts, Darwin and his legacy liberated them to speak in new and different ways, with continuing relevance for questions of gender, cosmology, and the environment.

Between Relativism and Fundamentalism: Religious Resources for a Middle Position edited by Peter L. Berger Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2010. 213 pp. $17.00. ISBN 9780-8028-6387-4.

Eight contributors consider how, from different traditions, one can define a middle position between the extremes of relativism and fundamentalism. After an introductory overview by sociologist of religion Peter Berger, three essays (“sociological descriptions”) give an objective picture of how relativism and fundamentalism play out in today’s world. In the second part (“theological directions”), authors from several different Christian traditions and one conservative Jewish tradition flesh out a normative middle ground that is neither relativist (they affirm specific truth claims) nor fundamentalist (their affirmations include tolerance of the claims of others).

The Providence of God edited by Francesca Aran Murphy and Philip G. Ziegler T & T Clark, London and New York, 2009. 338 pp. $39.95. ISBN 978-0-567-03341-3.

The doctrine of providence is one of the most influential, and at the same time, most disputed concepts in the history of Christian theology. This collection brings together leading theologians to discuss the role the idea of divine intervention plays in their theology. The contributions provide an in-depth analysis of providence, examining it from historical, philosophical-theological, systematic, and practical perspectives. Sarah Coakley,

JA N UA RY 2 0 1 1

David Bentley Hart, Alister McGrath, John Swinton, and John Webster are among the seventeen contributors.

Without Nature?: A New Condition for Theology edited by David Albertson and Cabell King Fordham University Press, New York, 2010. 469 pp. $39.00. ISBN 978-0-8232-3070-9.

While the spheres of human and nonhuman nature are often addressed distinctly in bioethical and ecological ethics, they are considered in tandem in this volume. Is it possible that ecological collapse and genetic manipulation are symptomatic of conceptually broader and more globally operative cultural shifts—a changing understanding and valuation of “nature” itself? A multidisciplinary group of seventeen scholars (including natural and social scientists, theologians, and ethicists) interrogate the viability of “nature” as a point of intersection for dialogue across disciplines, whether it is “human nature” studied by the human and social sciences or the “natural” environment studied by the physical sciences. Contributors include Lisa Sowle Cahill, Sallie McFague, William Schweiker, and Kathryn Tanner.

Reinhold Niebuhr Revisited: Engagements with an American Original edited by Daniel F. Rice; foreword by Martin E. Marty Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2009. 402 pp. $26.00. ISBN 978-08028-6257-0.

The essays collected in this book offer fresh and creative ways of looking at Reinhold Niebuhr’s views on religion, politics, and culture. The nineteen contributors (Roger Shinn, Gary Dorrien, Douglas John Hall, Robin Lovin, and Larry Rasmussen among them) include three generations: those who knew and worked with Niebuhr, those who followed in close proximity to Niebuhr’s own time, and more recent voices who have been influenced by Niebuhr’s writings. Recognizing Niebuhr’s importance, they engage in thoughtful reflection upon various aspects of his work and bring him into focus for a new generation of readers.