Saturday, June 9, 2012

The End of Questions

Graduation day.  We finally made it.  He made it.  Well, him and 500 and some other Homestead graduates, not to mention millions of high schoolers across the country.  Congratulations to all.  To grads and to parents and teachers and administrators.  And support staff and friends and colleagues.  And ... well the source of all knowledge and wisdom!  Thanks be to God!

Did I leave anyone out?  Hope not.  Cause I can’t think of anyone else.  The brain is tired.  And mine isn’t the only one here today on cruise control.  The graduate himself came home and crashed.  Of course a big celebratory lunch with extended family might have had something to do with that.  But I seem to recall hearing a mutter under the breath around here about how there wasn’t going to be any thinking around here, at least until school starts again in the fall.

“Too much thinkin’ cain’t be good for you!”  That was said to me many years ago when a little church in Arkansas was trying to tell me how much they liked me as I was and was pretty sure I didn’t need to go back to Seminary for more “book larnin’.”  There is in some circles a certain amount of suspicion of too much education.  There are just some questions we ought not ask, some are saying.  Just some knowledge we don’t need to have.

Well, perhaps there are things we all wish the world could unlearn, destructive things, hateful things.  But that isn’t likely to happen.  And most of us believe learning, knowledge and questions are good things.  That is why we begin this summer a series of questions raised by the congregation of Aldersgate.  Some of them are questions that some might think we shouldn’t even ask.  Not because they are bad questions, but simply because it disturbs some to even ask them.

A long time ago the Episcopal Church ran an ad campaign.  There were some edgy posters and advertisements in magazines and newspapers.  There were many quite clever ones, but the one I remember the best simply had a partial photo of a depiction of Christ on a cross and the caption was “He died to take away your sins, not your mind.”

The church ought to be a place of questions.  Within the community of faith, there should be security and trust and support enough to ask even the most difficult of questions, the freaky and wild ponderings, the what ifs that would stump a saint.  There is room for questions.

So, my debate this week has been do I deal with the questions I intend to answer in this space, or do I stick with a bible reflection on the passage which, I must confess, may have only a tangential relationship to the question at hand.  For example, the question this week is the one that more than one person asked.  It was on the bible side of the question form and it is this: “How were the books of the bible chosen?”

Simple enough, right?  Well, actually, it is a long and convoluted process where some of the most beloved parts of the bible didn’t make the cut and some of what are to us obscure texts were almost put in.  It was a lottery and political process all wrapped up in one.  There were debates and arguments, splits and accusations of heresy on this very issue.  Not only that, it could be argued that it almost didn’t happen.  The struggles were so great, the divisions so deep that the movement might not have survived.  But it did.  By the grace of God, it survived.

When some folks talk about the inspiration of the Bible, they mean that the words themselves came from the very mouth of God.  A process of divine dictation, perhaps, or overwhelming manipulation of the various authors that forced them to write an error free text.  But given what we know about history, and the variety of manuscripts of the various books of the bible, such a robotic transcription of the holy text seems unlikely.  But the evidence of the Spirit is throughout the history of the bible, from composition to selection to translation to the very survival of the text despite various efforts to erase it from the minds and hearts of the people of God. 

I have no hesitation in declaring the Spirit-breathed nature of the Bible.  Which leads me to ask the question that I believe is even more crucial than how did we get the bible we have.  And that question is “what are we supposed to do with it?” 

Is it cheating to switch questions?  Perhaps, but allowable because I am here to preach not to lecture.  I’m not a professor in a class in biblical scholarship, but a preacher in the community of faith gathered to worship God and to acknowledge the Lordship of Christ.  It is that second, and I believe connected, question that led me to assign our text for the week.  (Whew, after all of that we finally get to actually read the bible!  Who’d a thunk it?)

1 Timothy 4:7-16   Have nothing to do with profane myths and old wives' tales. Train yourself in godliness,  8 for, while physical training is of some value, godliness is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.  9 The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance.  10 For to this end we toil and struggle, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.  11 These are the things you must insist on and teach.  12 Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.  13 Until I arrive, give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching.  14 Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders.  15 Put these things into practice, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress.  16 Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; continue in these things, for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers.

Chapter four of First Timothy is one of Paul’s standard “not this ... but that” structural arguments.  The first part of the chapter is the not this, you can go back and read the first five verses and see what he is setting aside.  But here we have an outline of ministry, not just of the clergy, but of every Christian.  “Train yourself in godliness,” he writes.  It takes effort, it takes energy, it takes will to be a Christian.  It doesn’t just happen because you made a choice somewhere along the line, because you joined a church.  We have to work at it.  And here is an outline of what we work on.

In the midst of this presentation (since I don’t have space to cover it all) is attention to public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching.  The bible, says Paul, is central to our faith.  It is what gives it a shape,  draws boundaries.  But it does more than that.  It draws pictures, it casts vision.  We study the bible to get a glimpse of what the community of faith looks like, and feels like, and acts like.  We are drawn into this picture, we are inspired, encouraged, challenged by what we read in this text. 

Do not neglect the gift, he writes.  In this case he means the gift of the gospel, the gift of faith, the gift of the bible itself.  Do we see it as a precious gift?  A treasure store of hope and joy?  Do we claim it as a living document in which we find ourselves, our true selves and our better selves?  Do we hear the call of Christ to claim the kingdom, right now, right here?

I hope so.  And if so, then put these things into practice, devote yourselves to them, so all may see your progress.  In other words.  Just do it!  And keep on asking questions, there is always more to learn.

Shalom,
Derek

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