Acts 19 opens with a troubling passage about baptism.
The trouble, on one level, only exists in certain theological circles. I'm a United Methodist pastor, and in our tradition, we've long held that baptism is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Paul's apparent insistence that these men in Ephesus need to be rebaptized is troubling to us, needs explanation.
But there's bigger trouble, really. It may be tempting to shuttle this passage off into an arcane argument between academics of different flavors of theology, but when we look at the overall teaching of the passage, we quickly discover that more foundational issues than ecclesiastic law are at stake.
In Paul's absence, the people of Ephesus have received another popular Christian teacher, Apollos, into their midst. Interestingly, Apollos' teaching seems to have been more effective than that of Paul. A number have "believed" in response to his message who had managed to resist Paul's preaching in his earlier visit.
In chapter 18, Apollos has been characterized as one who "accurately proclaimed Jesus" but "knew only John's baptism." In other words, his focus was on the gospel story and on repentance.
Here's the troubling thing: In Paul's view, it is evidently possible for someone to have received "accurate" instruction, to have experienced "repentance," and to have "believed" in Jesus and yet not have received all that they need to be baptized.
Hmmm...
THAT raises significant questions.
At issue for Paul is whether the Ephesians have received the Holy Spirit. That much is pretty clear. What I wonder is, how did he even think to pose such a question? We don't have evidence that he ever asked it of any other church, before or after their baptism. Why here?
We can only assume that something about the gathering of believers he found when he arrived in Ephesus begged the question. What would that be? What in the behavior or speech of a church could cause one to ask if they've ever heard of the Holy Spirit?
The author of the story doesn't give us an answer (at least in this passage.) He only indicates the quick remedy demanded by Paul.
What signs would we seek? What eveidence would we give that the holy Spirit is at work in a church?
One way of reading what happens next is that the gift of tongues must be the answer. Paul comes to Ephesus, sees nobody speaking in tongues, rebaptizes a few folk... Bingo. The gift that keeps on giving.
All by itself, the text permits this interpretation. Paul's own writings on the subject, however, do not. In 1 Corinthians, Paul is insistent that the presence of the holy Spirit is not necessarily accompanied by tongues. We'll have to look elsewhere.
Acts 2 gives us our first look at the Spirit-filled church. Here's how the author describes it there:
42They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. 44All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. 46Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
The spirit filled church is characterized by it's adherence to the teaching of the apostles (in our day, the scriptures,) it's fellowship, its prayer life, its generosity, its joy, and its magnetic appeal. If any one of these marks is emphasized above the others, though, it is the fellowship.
The Greek word used here is koinonia and it invokes far more than fried chicken and pot-luck suppers. The fellowship on display here is about sharing life together.
It's dangerous to supply characters a motive when none is stipulated. Paul could have seen any number of things wrong in the church at Ephesus that caused him to question if they'd ever received the Holy Spirit. But nothing is more immediately apparent to a newcomer to a church than the absence of genuine, heartfelt love and fellowship. This absence, perhaps above any other, is just cause for Paul to stop and suggest: "Perhaps we'd best start over, here..."
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
We Five Kings
This Tuesday is Epiphany, on the church calendar. Epiphany marks the end of Christmastide, and celebrates Jesus coming as a "light to those walking in darkness." From very early on, the church recognized these words of the prophet Isaiah to refer to Christ's witness to the gentiles. The biblical narrative usually associated with Epiphany is the story of the wise men in Matthew chapter two.
In the holiday hymn, we sing "We three kings of Orient are..." In fact, magi are not really kings, they probably weren't from the Orient (at least as we would define it,) and we really have no idea how many of them made up the party.
Almost certainly we conjured up the number three because the text lists three gifts (gold frankincense, and myrrh.) The word Orient crept into the hymn as a general reference to "the East." In fact, they are likely to have come from the general region of Assyria (at this time a territory under dispute between the Romans and Parthians.)
The notion of their being kings is a little more enigmatic, but probably it comes from a rather literal reading of the prophesies associated with Epiphany. Psalm 72, for instance, was being read Messianicly in the early church era, and verses 10 and 11 speak of the Christ receiving tribute from foreign kings.
What DO we have in the Magi text?
The phrase that caught my eye in preparation this week was in Matthew 2:3
When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.
Our tendency as modern readers is to paint Herod black as we read this story. The text, though, suggests that the news the magi carried was disturbing not only to Herod, but to the whole people of God. What had they said that was so disturbing?
"Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him..."
God the Blabbermouth
One thing Jerusalem may have found disturbing is the notion that God might be speaking a foreign language. While stargazing for omens was a standard pagan practice, it was strictly prohibited among the Jews. The Jews had their ways of communicating with God... Torah and prophet, priest and king. No doubt they might have found the notion that people were claiming to have experienced God through astrology rather disturbing.
Here's the thing. God is a blabbermouth.
Scripture itself teaches us that God communicates with people in thousands of ways. Creation itself is envisioned as one giant love letter from God, so that Paul tells us we are without excuse when it comes to knowing God's nature. It shouldn't surprise us that stargazers got the message.
Sometimes, though, God's people like to feel like they've got an inside track. Nobody can hear God but me. To them, the notion that God is speaking a foreign language might be disturbing.
Who Left the Door Open?
For others, the disturbing part of the message might be that pagans had come to Jerusalem to worship. Herod and his cohorts, after all, knew exactly what was entailed in being God's people. You were either born a Jew, or you became one through rigorous adherence to the Torah. People who didn't measure up one way or the other were not allowed in the Temple. By this, I don't mean that they were simply made to feel unwelcome. I mean that entering the temple without proper credentials could get you killed.
Enter three pagan astrologers from the babylonian frontier.
"We've come to worship."
Yeah. Right. That went over great.
Because God's people are expert in playing the "Who belongs?" game. We know what it takes to be the "church-going type" that is pleasing to God. The notion that just ANYBODY could wander in and start worshiping beside us is just, well... wrong, somehow.
No wonder they were disturbed.
Too Many Kings.
Beyond a doubt, though, the real disturbance in Herod's court was somebody coming along claiming that they were no longer in charge. It's a simple mathematical problem of there being altogether too many kings in the story.
Herod's particular world view allowed for only one.
The story of the slaughter of innocents in Matthews gospel is not recounted anywhere else. But we do know something about Herod from the history books. Killing a few babies to consolidate his power was not at all beyond him. He was known to have killed nephews, sons, and at least one wife for rumors of conspiracy against his throne. This was a guy who love being in charge and was ruthless at protecting his interests.
Remind you of anybody?
Don't we all want to be in control of our own lives. The fact that Jesus has come along and wants to assume the throne is not always received as good news. Some of us lash out violently to maintain control of our own lives. We find the presence of another claim to authority in our lives disturbing.
Like Herod and all of Jerusalem.
Matthew ends the story of the Wise Men and Herod by quoting as passage from Jeremiah.
18"A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more."
The quote hangs on a neat narrative hook. Presumably, it is fulfilled by the killing of a few babies in Bethlehem. In context, though, the Jeremiah passage mourns a much profounder loss. Rachel weeps over her children because the people of God, in their entirety, are no more.
I hink Matthew is well aware of this older context. I believe he has used this story to illustrate for us what it means for the people of God to have been vanquished.
Where people are disturbed by the notion that God is at work outside their walls... where people are disturbed by the notion of outsides entering the sanctuary to worship... where people are more concerned with maintaining control over their own lives than making room for he who is born King of the Universe... where these things are true, Rachel weeps.
Her children are no more. God's people have ceased to exist.
In the holiday hymn, we sing "We three kings of Orient are..." In fact, magi are not really kings, they probably weren't from the Orient (at least as we would define it,) and we really have no idea how many of them made up the party.
Almost certainly we conjured up the number three because the text lists three gifts (gold frankincense, and myrrh.) The word Orient crept into the hymn as a general reference to "the East." In fact, they are likely to have come from the general region of Assyria (at this time a territory under dispute between the Romans and Parthians.)
The notion of their being kings is a little more enigmatic, but probably it comes from a rather literal reading of the prophesies associated with Epiphany. Psalm 72, for instance, was being read Messianicly in the early church era, and verses 10 and 11 speak of the Christ receiving tribute from foreign kings.
What DO we have in the Magi text?
The phrase that caught my eye in preparation this week was in Matthew 2:3
When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.
Our tendency as modern readers is to paint Herod black as we read this story. The text, though, suggests that the news the magi carried was disturbing not only to Herod, but to the whole people of God. What had they said that was so disturbing?
"Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him..."
God the Blabbermouth
One thing Jerusalem may have found disturbing is the notion that God might be speaking a foreign language. While stargazing for omens was a standard pagan practice, it was strictly prohibited among the Jews. The Jews had their ways of communicating with God... Torah and prophet, priest and king. No doubt they might have found the notion that people were claiming to have experienced God through astrology rather disturbing.
Here's the thing. God is a blabbermouth.
Scripture itself teaches us that God communicates with people in thousands of ways. Creation itself is envisioned as one giant love letter from God, so that Paul tells us we are without excuse when it comes to knowing God's nature. It shouldn't surprise us that stargazers got the message.
Sometimes, though, God's people like to feel like they've got an inside track. Nobody can hear God but me. To them, the notion that God is speaking a foreign language might be disturbing.
Who Left the Door Open?
For others, the disturbing part of the message might be that pagans had come to Jerusalem to worship. Herod and his cohorts, after all, knew exactly what was entailed in being God's people. You were either born a Jew, or you became one through rigorous adherence to the Torah. People who didn't measure up one way or the other were not allowed in the Temple. By this, I don't mean that they were simply made to feel unwelcome. I mean that entering the temple without proper credentials could get you killed.
Enter three pagan astrologers from the babylonian frontier.
"We've come to worship."
Yeah. Right. That went over great.
Because God's people are expert in playing the "Who belongs?" game. We know what it takes to be the "church-going type" that is pleasing to God. The notion that just ANYBODY could wander in and start worshiping beside us is just, well... wrong, somehow.
No wonder they were disturbed.
Too Many Kings.
Beyond a doubt, though, the real disturbance in Herod's court was somebody coming along claiming that they were no longer in charge. It's a simple mathematical problem of there being altogether too many kings in the story.
Herod's particular world view allowed for only one.
The story of the slaughter of innocents in Matthews gospel is not recounted anywhere else. But we do know something about Herod from the history books. Killing a few babies to consolidate his power was not at all beyond him. He was known to have killed nephews, sons, and at least one wife for rumors of conspiracy against his throne. This was a guy who love being in charge and was ruthless at protecting his interests.
Remind you of anybody?
Don't we all want to be in control of our own lives. The fact that Jesus has come along and wants to assume the throne is not always received as good news. Some of us lash out violently to maintain control of our own lives. We find the presence of another claim to authority in our lives disturbing.
Like Herod and all of Jerusalem.
Matthew ends the story of the Wise Men and Herod by quoting as passage from Jeremiah.
18"A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more."
The quote hangs on a neat narrative hook. Presumably, it is fulfilled by the killing of a few babies in Bethlehem. In context, though, the Jeremiah passage mourns a much profounder loss. Rachel weeps over her children because the people of God, in their entirety, are no more.
I hink Matthew is well aware of this older context. I believe he has used this story to illustrate for us what it means for the people of God to have been vanquished.
Where people are disturbed by the notion that God is at work outside their walls... where people are disturbed by the notion of outsides entering the sanctuary to worship... where people are more concerned with maintaining control over their own lives than making room for he who is born King of the Universe... where these things are true, Rachel weeps.
Her children are no more. God's people have ceased to exist.
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