when God gets personal

Abstract thought is indeed quite important - if not necessary - but is nevertheless insufficient as a single mode of understanding God and His word. We often are satisfied to dwell long in abstraction because we feel a sense of comfort (albeit a false one) that can be distant, impersonal. Yet God is Person, and He is not afraid to get personal (after all, He did become God incarnate!). And sometimes painfully so. The truth, while it genuinely sets us free, tends to tear us apart first, for it illumines our body and soul to the sin that enslaves us like light to eyes that have grown accustomed to darkness.

These characteristics are, I believe, demonstrated for us in Luke's record of Jesus preaching in Nazareth (Luke 4:16-30). Having been handed to Him, Jesus takes the book of Isaiah and boldly declares of the very Scripture He read that it had been "fulfilled" by Him that very day "in [their] hearing" (4:21). Surprisingly, the initial response was positive: "all were speaking well of Him [or, "all bare him witness," as in KJV], and wondering at the gracious words which were falling from His lips" (v. 22).

But then, perhaps because "He Himself knew what was in man" (John 2:25), Jesus gets personal, and His words cut to the heart of His audience, revealing their intent, their motives, their hardness of heart, and their refusal to acknowledge the arrival of the Kingdom. Jesus declares that "no prophet is welcome in his hometown," citing examples from Scripture to illustrate how individual Gentiles had received God's healing through the prophets Elijah and Elisha while "many widows in Israel" and "many lepers in Israel" did not (Luke 4:25, 27). Still, these were, of course, not mere citations and references; Jesus moves past the white-washed outside to make manifest the need for inward transformation wrought by the hand of God. Jesus essentially declared that their national affiliation was no guarantee of divine blessing. Though Jesus was critical, His grace was also demonstrated; He provided a genuine opportunity for those before Him "to acknowledge their failure and need" (Bock 2002:98). And, by doing so, He proves the nature of God's word:

For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do. (Hebrews 4:13-14)

So we read:

And all the people in the synagogue were filled with rage as they heard these things; and they got up and drove Him out of the city, and led Him to the brow of the hill on which their city had been built, in order to throw Him down the cliff. (Luke 4:28-29)

At times I think, rather arrogantly, how can they be so stupid? But I forget that it is my heart, too, that is on display here, since I am no better than them. And it is only by God's grace that any of us can respond any better, for we need Him to renew our minds and transform our hearts through the new birth that He alone can enact. The Samaritan woman at the well in John 4 is a good example that contrasts with those who rejected Jesus in Nazareth. Jesus indeed gets personal with her, but she responds with humility to His words, as her reaction demonstrates. God even uses her to bring others to Jesus, that they, too, might "believe" that He is "the Savior of the world" (John 4:42).

The question for us to bring to God is: When God gets personal and reveals our need for Him, how do we respond?

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References:
Bock, Darrell L. (2002). Jesus according to Scripture: Restoring the Portrait from the Gospels. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic and Apollos.

quote of the week, january 23-29, 2011

It is sometimes easy to get the impression that Christians take a dim view of things - that they are much more in favor of indifference than caring. [...] Far from caring too much for [matter], we are forever busy beating it out of its natural shape into fetishes and status symbols which are more to our liking. Matter itself gets very few chances to speak. And therefore the usual sermons against it are off base. It isn't matter that's opposed to spirit - the two were designed to go together; what is opposed to spirit is perverted matter, uncared-for-matter, unloved and unlovely matter. And matter doesn't get that way on its own steam. It is perverted precisely by being cared for irrelevantly by spirit, by being loved, not for what it is, but for what it does for me and means to me.

True enough, Christians are told to deny themselves material things, but it's very easy to miss the point. The goal of all Christian self-denial is the restoration, not the destruction, of nature; the removal, not of matter, but of perversion. (Capon 1965:110-111)

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References:
Capon, Robert Farrar. (1965). Bed and Board: Plain Talk about Marriage. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster.

motherhood: sacrament & icon

Perhaps its due to the particular brand of hermeneutics training I've received (which is rather minimal, to be honest), but one thing I generally disprefer is taking something out of context, recontextualizing it, and appropriating it for personal use. When such activity occurs in writing, it is often the case that something is innocently misunderstood or, rather sinisterly, the author is being blatantly deceptive. So, my apologies at the outset for transgressing my own rules, but this is a noble cause, and I hope I will be found guilty of neither ignorance nor deception. What I would like to do is mildly invoke the concepts of sacrament and icon in order to, as the title indicates, view motherhood as sacrament and icon. Or, to put it another way that is weaker and does not entail strict theological commitments, I would like to contemplate motherhood in a sacramental and iconic manner.

With that in mind, I offer the following from Dr. Alexander Schmemann as a "working definition" of sorts for what I mean by the term "sacrament." We'll start here and see how far it takes us (or what trouble it gets us into):

[A] "sacrament" [...] implies necessarily the idea of transformation, refers to the ultimate event of Christ's death and resurrection, and is always a sacrament of the Kingdom. (Schmemann 1973[1963]: 81)

This may seem simple and straightforward enough, but we have a lot of work to do in a little space, and as of yet no explicit reason to entertain such a venture in the first place. So let me step back a bit, provide some context, and clarify my motive.

Had I been writing in an earlier period, say in the heyday of treatises and discourses with lavish and glorious subtitles, mine would have looked like the following:

Motherhood: Sacrament & Icon

or

A Short Discourse in Honor of My Loving Wife on the Event of Her Weaning Our Child

Such a title would have at least trended toward the grandeur of the circumstance, although we might not readily consider weaning such. And (to some degree ) understandably so, for it has the characteristics of being quite mundane, commonplace, and uneventful. But, we all too frequently miss the point of liturgy on account of its regularity, and so much the worse for us.

My wife has, and I'm sure always will, exhibited a beautiful mysteriousness. Motherhood, in a sense, compounds the mystery and increases my adoration. For it is utterly clear that, while not demonstrating a distinction in quality, our ministries are different. And even though I can come along side her to encourage her ministry, I will surely never be able to appreciate it fully for lack of direct experience (still, I intend to appreciate every aspect that I can grasp). From the moment our child was conceived, we entered onto an irreversible path, but I as a bystander, while she entered with the entirety of her being as a sacrifice for another. This is not to say that I was aloof or distant, but even the greatest extent to which I can possibly love, care, sympathize, help, provide, encourage, and support cannot truly match my wife giving of her body for the life of our child.

Now, with sacrificial giving at the fore, perhaps the invocation of sacrament and icon is not as ridiculous as it seemed at the outset. But how does motherhood, to return to Schmemann's conceptualization of "sacrament," genuinely imply transformation, and refer to Christ's death and resurrection? Moreover, how is motherhood in any way a sacrament of the Kingdom? Before I begin to touch upon the answers to these questions (for what single blog post could do the justice required?), allow me to introduce two more concepts. First, as the Reverend Peter Stravinskas notes with regard to the Roman Catholic understanding of the sacrament of Holy Orders, "Just as Jesus was the icon (image) of the Father, so is the priest to be an icon of Jesus" (Stravinskas 1997:84). Accordingly, "the priest, [as] an icon of Jesus Christ, sacrifices his own life for the people's sake" (75). Second, sacraments always have some material element about them, which points to something beyond themselves (because the physical aspects are not ends in themselves). Thus, as Abbot Anscar Vonier once wrote (though principally dealing with the Eucharist in his work), "the use of external things, of the sacramental signs, [...] links us up with Christ, historically as well as actually" (Vonier 2003[1925]:28). And with these concepts in place, with timidity we can consider motherhood sacramentally and iconically.

I don't mean to exalt my wife above due measure, but I can't really say that I would have come to the same conclusions about motherhood from experiencing it with just any woman (in actuality, however, I do exalt the God who has worked through her and shown His love in her actions). Much of what I learned from her derives from the stance that, by God's grace, she takes and has taken toward motherhood, being mindful to keep what we Christians sometimes say as an "eternal perspective" continually in focus. In the proper sense, parenthood (as far as the Church is concerned, within the purview of marriage) generally, and motherhood specifically, takes on a much wider meaning and is imbued with sacramental essence when it transcends the local relationship in order to become a manifestation of the divine love. Through the grace of God, motherhood takes on sacramentality because the mother is invited to, repeatedly and continually, die to herself and her own self-sufficiency, so "that it may point beyond itself" (Schmemann 1973[1963]:90) to the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ and the nature of the Kingdom which He inaugurates and fills with His eternal presence. In the Christian context (and, really, in any context) of motherhood, He is to be the essence and the goal of the relationship between mother and child. This transforms the nature of motherhood by making it into the image of God's Self-sacrificial love for humankind. Motherhood is especially fitting in this regard because it involves sacrifice at the level of the entire person. Her body is given for the life of the child (even after delivery, such as nursing every three hours [start to start!] for weeks without good sleep); every thought and action is undertaken with selfless consideration. She, in a sense, lays down her life for the child, serving the child and thus tangibly exhibiting profound characteristics of the Kingdom of God (Matthew 19:14; 20:16-18; Mark 10:45). Thus, the mother becomes a sort of icon of Jesus Christ, pointing beyond herself to His glory and His divine love.

If you haven't been offended at my use of sacrament and icon up to this point (and it is certainly not my hope to offend, especially since I don't propose this in any rigid theological sense of the terms), perhaps what I have stated sounds a bit child-centric - living for the purpose of the child. But this objection misses the point: sacramental motherhood is not living for the child, but living for God by manifesting His Kingdom and its ethos, with both the glory of God and the good of the child in mind. Again relating it to the Person and work of Jesus Christ, it is my belief that the glory of God was the chief end to which He became incarnate, suffered, died, rose again, ascended into heaven, does reign and will reign for ever and ever. However, He never viewed humanity as an obstacle to His "real will." Instead, He chose to have compassion, and was crucified for our sake as well as for the Father's good pleasure. He sought and obtained the glory of God precisely by engaging humanity with the principles of His own divine love, filling earth with heaven. Christ's work had both a divine and a human side to it; His sacrifice was both propitiation and redemption. With this in mind, then, sacramental and iconic motherhood does not enthrone the child, but neither does it view the child as an obstacle to some greater will or purpose. It is instead through the act of loving the child to the glory of God that parenthood, generally, and motherhood, specifically, declares the Kingdom within this aspect of marriage, and the mother becomes the image of Christ's sacrificial love.

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References:
Schmemann, Alexander. (1973). For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press. (Original work published 1963)

Stravinskas, Peter M. J. (1997). Understanding the Sacraments: A Guide for Prayer and Study. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius.

Vonier, Anscar. (2003). A Key to the Doctrine of the Eucharist. Bethesda, MD: Zaccheus Press. (Original work published 1925)

quote of the week, january 16-22, 2011

The first time I heard portions of the hymn below, penned by Anne R. Cousin (1824-1906), was in the popularized version of the song known as "The Sands of Time Are Sinking." A. W. Tozer includes this hymn in his compilation, The Christian Book of Mystical Verse, and in a footnote writes the following:

This much-loved poem was composed by Mrs. Anne Ross Cousin, wife of a minister of the Free Church of Scotland. The poem is as remarkable as it is beautiful in that Mrs. Cousin extracted from the letters of Samuel Rutherford many of his most memorable sayings and wove them into a hymn of nineteen stanzas, maintaining throughout high poetic excellence and great faithfulness to the language and spirit of the letters. (Tozer 1991 [1963]:141, see fn. 2)

Below are all nineteen stanzas as taken from Tozer's devotional volume (sidenote: Indelible Grace Music puts out an excellent version of this [and many other hymns] on their album Pilgrim Days: Indelible Grace II. Also, they provide references to Rutherford's original letters here):

The sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of Heaven breaks,
The summer morn I've sighed for,
The fair sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory - glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! well it is for ever,
Oh! well for evermore,
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doom'd shore:
Yea, let the vain world vanish,
As from the ship the strand,
While glory - glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

There the Red Rose of Sharon
Unfolds its heartsome bloom,
And fills the air of Heaven
With ravishing perfume:-
Oh! to behold it blossom,
While by its fragrance fann'd
Where glory - glory dwelleth
In Immannuel's land.

The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil, is seen:
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between.
The Lamb, with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory - glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! Christ He is the Fountain,
The deep sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I've tasted,
More deep I'll drink above:
There, to an ocean fulness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory - glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

E'en Anwoth was not heaven-
E'en preaching was not Christ;
And in my sea-beat prison
My Lord and I held tryst:
And aye my murkiest storm-cloud
Was by a rainbow spann'd,
Caught from the glory dwelling
In Immanuel's land.

But that He built a heaven
Of His surpassing love,
A little New Jerusalem,
Like to the one above,-
"Lord, take me o'er the water,"
Had been my loud demand,
"Take me to love's own country,
Unto Immanuel's land."

But flowers need need night's cool darkness
The moonlight and the dew;
So Christ, from one who loved it,
His shining oft withdrew;
And then for cause of absence,
My troubled soul I scann'd-
But glory, shadeless, shineth
In Immanuel's land.

The little birds of Anwoth
I used to count them blest,-
Now, beside happier altars
I go to build my nest:
O'er these there broods no silence,
No graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless, dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Fair Anwoth by the Solway,
To me thou still art dear!
E'en from the verge of Heaven
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! if one soul from Anwoth
Meet me at God's right hand,
My Heaven will be two Heavens,
In Immanuel's land.

I have wrestled on toward Heaven,
'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide:-
Now, like a weary traveller,
that leaneth on his guide,
Amid the shades of evening,
While sinks life's ling'ring sand,
I hail the glory dawning
From Immanuel's land.

Deep water cross'd life's pathway,
The hedge of thorns was sharp;
Now these all lie behind me-
Oh! for a well-tuned harp!
Oh! to join Hallelujah
With yon triumphant band,
Who sing, where glory dwelleth,
In Immanuel's land.

With mercy and with judgment
My web of time He wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustered with His love.
I'll bless the hand that guided,
I'll bless the heart that plann'd,
When throned where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

Soon shall the cup of glory
Wash down earth's bitterest woes,
Soon shall the desert-briar
Break into Eden's rose:
The curse shall change to blessing-
The name on earth that's bann'd,
Be graven on the white stone
In Immanuel's land.

Oh! I am my Beloved's,
And my Beloved is mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into His "House of wine."
I stand upon His merit,
I know no other stand,
Not e'en where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

I shall sleep sound in Jesus,
Fill'd with His likeness rise,
To live and to adore Him,
To see Him with these eyes
'Tween me and resurrection
But Paradise doth stand;
Then-then for glory dwelling
In Immanuel's land!

The Bride eyes not her garment,
But her dear Bridegroom's face;
I will not gaze at glory,
But on my King of Grace-
Hot at the crown He giveth,
But on His pierced hand:
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel's land.

I have borne scorn and hatred,
I have borne wrong and shame,
Earth's proud ones have reproach'd me,
For Christ's thrice blessed name:-
Where God His seal set fairest
They've stamp'd their foulest brand;
But judgment shines like noonday
In Immanuel's land.

They've summoned me before them,
But there I may not come,-
My Lord says, "Come up hither,"
My Lord says, "Welcome Home!"
My kingly King, at His white throne,
My presence doth command,
Where glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land. (Tozer 1991 [1963]:123-127)

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References:
Tozer, A. W. (ed.). (1991). The Christian Book of Mystical Verse. Camp Hill, PA: Christian Publications, Inc. (Original work published 1963)

absolute fidelity

"[W]hen the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?" (Luke 18:8, NASB)

For me it is often easy to proceed from Malachi to Matthew and gloss over the roughly 400 years of silence that lies between the turn of a page. But, as we, dwelling between two worlds, eagerly wait for our Lord and Savior to "appear a second time for salvation without reference to sin" (Hebrews 9:28), we find an important analog between our experience and that of Anna and Simeon (Luke 1), who serve as examples of encouragement in times of waiting.

As we are probably all well aware, many of the religious leaders in Israel possessed some cognizance of the manifold prophecies concerning the Messiah (e.g., Matthew 2:4-6) though they were not truly prepared for His coming. Nor did they recognize the fulfillment of prophecies before their very eyes, for their hearts were hardened and they would not, as John the Baptist exhorted them to, "bear fruit in keeping with repentance" (Matthew 3:8). Still, in contrast to those who refused to believe, there are those who remained faithful, ever longing for God's words to come into fruition. Among the few who, like Abraham, would not "waver in unbelief" "with respect to the promises of God" (Romans 4:20), Simeon and Anna are among the "cloud of witnesses surrounding us" who exhort us to endure by "fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2). Although God had, in a sense, been "silent" for four centuries, yet we read of Simeon that he was "looking for the consolation of Israel," assured that he would see "the Lord's Christ" before his own death (Luke 2:26). Additionally, we read of the constance of Anna, who "never left the temple, serving night and day with fastings and prayers" (2:37; related to persistence, recall also Jesus's parable in Luke 18:1-8 as well as the notion of "impudent prayer" [HT: Ray Ortlund] taught by Jesus in Luke 11:5-10). After the birth of Jesus and His presentation in the Temple according to the Law, "[Anna] came up and began giving thanks to God, and continued to speak of Him to all those who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem" (2:38).

Like Anna and Simeon, we too live in a period of (so-called) "silence" as we feel the tension of that which is "already" and that which is "not yet." And, importantly, like Anna and Simeon, we too are called to fidelity as we wait for our salvation (see 1 Peter 1:5, 9). But, while the faithfulness exhibited by these two is impressive, their examples do not call us to an end in themselves. Rather, they point to an even greater faithfulness, the absolute fidelity of God who never changes and is the very Person who supplies the content for our trust and our hope (Isaiah 26:4; Psalm 39:7; 1 Timothy 1:11). Paul expressed this in his second letter to Timothy, and the Scriptures instruct/train us (see 2 Timothy 3:16-17) in the same manner:

It is a trustworthy statement: For if we died with Him, we will also live with Him; if we endure, we will also reign with Him; if we deny Him, He also will deny us; if we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself. (2 Timothy 2:11-13, emphasis added)

Thus, in reality, our fidelity (and Simeon's and Anna's, as well), is predicated upon the eternal, immutable faithfulness of the only True God whose promises our sure. Knowing this, "[l]et us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful" (Hebrews 10:23, emphasis added). We know not the hour of Christ's coming (Matthew 24:36, 44), but we know that He will come. His faithfulness, demonstrated by His Person and work, supplies our need and strengthens us as we abide in Him (John 15:4-14) until He comes in glory (Matthew 16:27). His faithfulness animates us to labor in prayer (Luke 18:1), to obey in love (John 14:14), "to stimulate one another to love and good deeds" (Hebrews 10:24), to walk in accordance to our "calling" - with humility, gentleness, patience, and unity (Ephesians 4:1-6), and to gather together and "encourag[e] one another" as we "see the day drawing near" (Hebrews 10:25). And, when Jesus comes again, as we, by God's immeasurable grace, seek to glorify Him, may He indeed "find faith on the earth" (Luke 18:8).

quote of the week, january 9-15, 2011

The Christian really has a double task. He has to practice both God's holiness and God's love. The Christian is to exhibit that God exists as the infinite-personal God; and then he is to exhibit simultaneously God's character of holiness and love. Not His holiness without His love: that is only harshness. Not His love without His holiness: that is only compromise. Anything that an individual Christian or Christian group does that fails to show the simultaneous balance of the holiness of God and the love of God presents to a watching world not a demonstration of the God who exists but a caricature of the God who exists. (Schaeffer 1982:193-164, as quoted in Piper 2006:164)

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References:
Piper, John. (2006). Contending for Our All: Defending Truth and Treasuring Christ in the Lives of Athanasius, John Owen, and J. Gresham Machen. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books.

Schaeffer, Francis. (1982). The Complete Works of Francis Schaeffer, Vol. 4.: A Christian View of the Church. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books.

the nature of questions

It may seem odd to some that, after the Advent season is completed, after Christmas has past, and even after the feast of Theophany (Epiphany), I should post something in regards to the events preceding the births of John the Baptist and Jesus Christ. But, expectations aside, some of my family and I are beginning to read through the New Testament together, and this has provided an opportunity to revisit the accounts of Christ's birth in the Gospels (often read during the Advent/Christmas season). And in doing so, one particular aspect stood out to me in the Lukan narrative that pertains to the nature of questions. So, the following is for the inquisitive among us.

At times I have remained slightly perplexed when considering the annunciations to Zacharias (Luke 1:5-23) and to Mary (1:26-38). That is, superficially, their circumstances reveal particular structures that bear resemblance to one another. In the earliest portions of each case:

* An angel (i.e., Gabriel) appears (vv. 8-11, 26-28)
* Gabriel announces an aspect of God's plan (vv. 13-17, 30-33)
* The recipient asks a question (vv. 18, 34)

Especially given that this latter point is shared among the accounts, it has often been a surprise to me as to why the angel should react so distinctly to Zacharias and Mary. And it is this latter point that, for me, exalts God's grace in my own confusion and lack of understanding, for I am confident that God, who initiates His own Self-revelation, desires to make Himself known through the Person of Jesus Christ. One thing that struck me in contemplating both today's and yesterday's readings pertains to the nature of questions: there is a great difference between questioning God, one the one hand, and asking God questions, on the other.

Turning to the Scriptures, we note that the questions may be similar in form, but they contrast starkly in terms of content and motive. We read the following in the first chapter of Luke:

And Zechariah said to the angel, "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years." (Luke 1:18, ESV)

And Mary said to the angel, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?" (Luke 1:34)

The former question implies doubt, and is well expressed by the NASB rendition of verse 18, which reads "How will I know this for certain?" That uncertainty indeed underlies this question is evidenced in Scripture itself, for we find Gabriel rebuking Zacharias for his unbelief in the verses that immediately follow (cf. 1:19-20). But what of Mary's question? Why is she not rebuked for unbelief, as well, when she asks "How will this be?" (1:34, ESV)? The difference between her question and Zacharias' is that, in terms of content and motive, Mary's implies trust, belief, and faith. The nature of Mary's question is made clear by Gabriel's response; instead of questioning the validity of the message and what it entailed, she asks to know more about the announcement which she had already considered true and already accepted and believed God would bring it to pass. This point is elucidated further when we consider Mary's remarkably humble response: "Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word" (v. 38).

The reason this is important is because it is all too easy to conflate the notions of questioning God and asking God questions into a single, indiscernible category. If we do this, we may, for example, treat questions as synonymous with negative aspects, such as doubt. This, then, can be a hindrance to our relationship with God, which is in part characterized by our "asking" (see, for example, Matthew 7:11; 18:19; 21:22; Luke 9:45; 11:9, 13; John 16:24; Ephesians 3:20; Philippians 4:6; James 1:5-6; 1 John 5:14-15) of Him and, thus, relying upon His sovereignty and benevolence. When we, by God's grace, discern between types of questions based upon motive, God reveals through His word that He desires us to relate to Him through asking, like Abraham who inquired "Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?" (Genesis 18:25, NASB). But we must pray that God purifies our intent, so that our questions do not mirror that of Judas, who asked the Lord, "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and given to poor people?" (John 12:5; see also verse 6 in conjunction with James 4:3).

Notwithstanding, we do well to bear in mind that with God there is boundless grace. Though Zacharias did not fully believe and demonstrated a show-me-a-sign mentality (see Matthew 16:1-4), still God acted for His own glory and for the good of Zacharias, in a sense actually answering the very question he was rebuked for - Zacharias would eventually "know for certain" because he was made mute until Gabriel's words were fulfilled. Thus, God was working in Zacharias, transforming his heart and mind, so that when the words were fulfilled, "at once [Zacharias'] mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he began to speak in praise of God" (Luke 1:64).

May God give us His grace, to ask of Him, as did Mary, with purity of heart, asking in faith. And may He also make known to us His endless love and grace when we, like Zacharias, ask out of unbelief.

quote of the week, january 2-8, 2011

The picture that Scripture paints is that of the human person created in and for communion—created to live in community. In the Old Testament, above all, one sees the importance of living in relationship with God and with each other. Individuals were in relationship with God through the covenant that existed between God and his people. “As a member of this covenant community, each person was in relationship with every other person, including the poor and needy, one’s family and even with strangers and aliens. Out of these relationships arose responsibilities and demands. The just person was faithful to these responsibilities and demands.” As Gerhard Von Rad wrote, “There is absolutely no concept in the Old Testament with so central a significance for all relationships of human life as that of tsedek [justice].” (Eldin 2010:18)

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References:
Villafañe, Eldin. (2010). To live in justice: The message of Amos for today: A sermonic essay on social justice and ethics. Contact, 38(2), 17-21.

quote of the week, december 26, 2010-january 1, 2011

Now welcome for me his conception and leap for joy, if not indeed like John in the womb, then like David when the ark came to rest. Be awed at the census record through which you have been recorded in heaven, and revere the birth through which you have been released from the bonds of birth, and honor little Bethlehem, which has brought you back to paradise, and bow before the manger through which you who were without reason have been fed by the Word. Know, like the ox, your owner - Isaiah exhorts you [cf. Isaiah 1:3] - and like the donkey know your master's crib, whether you are among those who are pure and under the law and chew the cud of the Word and are prepared for sacrifice, or whether up to now you are among the impure and unfit for food or sacrifice and belong to the Gentiles. Run after the star, and bring gifts with the magi, gold and frankincense and myrrh, as to a king and a God and one dead for your sake. With the shepherds give glory, with the angels sing hymns, with the archangels dance. Let there be a common celebration of the heavenly and earthly powers. For I am persuaded that they rejoice and celebrate with us today, if indeed they love humankind and love God, just as David represents them ascending with Christ after his Passion as they come to meet him and exhort each other to lift up the gates. (Nazianzus 2008:75-76, Oration 38.17)

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References:
St. Gregory of Nazianzus. (2008). Festal Orations: Saint Gregory of Nazianzus (N. V. Harrison, Trans.). Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press.

ascention

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

ASCENTION

Salute the last and everlasting day,
Joy at the uprising of this Sunne, and Sonne,
Yee whose just teares, or tribulation
Have purely washt, or burnt your drossie clay;
Behold the Highest, parting hence away,
Lightens the darke clouds, which hee treads upon,
Nor doth hee by ascending, show alone.
But first hee, and hee first enters the way.
O strong Ramme, which with thy blood, hast mark'd the path;
Bright Torch, which shin'st, that I the way may see,
Oh, with thine owne blood quench thine own just wrath,
And if thy holy Spirit, my Muse did raise,
Deigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

resurrection

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

RESURRECTION

Moyst with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule
Shall (though she now be in extreme degree
Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly,) bee
Freed by that drop, from being starv'd, hard, or foule,
And life, by this death abled, shall controule
Death, whom thy death slue; nor shall to mee
Feare of first or last death, bring miserie,
If in thy little booke my name thou enroule,
Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified,
But made that there, of which, and for which 'twas;
Nor can by other meanes be glorified.
May then sinnes sleep, and deaths soone from me passe,
That wak't from both, I againe risen may
Salute the last, and everlasting day.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

crucifying

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

CRUCIFYING

By miracles exceeding power of man,
Hee faith in some, envie in some begat,
For, what weake spirits admire, ambitious, hate;
In both affections many to him ran,
But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the immaculate,
Whose creature Fate is, now prescribe to a Fate,
Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to'a span,
Nay to an inch. Loe, where condemned hee
Beares his owne crosse, with paine, yet by and by
When it bears him, he must beare more and die.
Now thou art lifted up, draw mee to thee,
And at thy death giving such liberall dole,
Moyst, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

temple

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

TEMPLE

With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe,
Joseph turne back; see where your child doth sit,
Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow;
The Word but lately could not speake, and loe
It sodenly speakes wonders, whence comes it,
That all which was, and all which should be writ,
A shallow seeming child, should deeply know?
His Godhead was not soule to his manhood,
Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse,
But as for one which hath a long taske, 'tis good,
With the Sunne to beginne his businesse,
He in his ages morning thus began
By miracles exceeding power of man.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

nativitie

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

NATIVITIE

Immensity cloystered in thy deare wombe,
Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment,
There he hath made himselfe to his intent
Weake enough, now into our world to come;
But Oh, for thee, for him, hath th'Inne no roome?
Yet lay him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Starres, and wisemen will travell to prevent
Th'effect of Herods jealous generall doome.
Seest thou, my Soule, with thy faiths eyes, how he
Which fils all place, yet none holds him, doth lye?
Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pittied by thee?
Kisse him, and with him into Egypt goe,
With his kinde mother, who partakes thy woe.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

annunciation

(Note: For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.)

ANNUNCIATION

Salvation to all that will is nigh;
That All, which alwayes is All every where,
Which cannot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare,
Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die,
Loe, faithful Virgin, yeelds himselfe to lye
In prison, in thy wombe; and though he there
Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he'will weare
Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie.
Ere by the spheares time was created, thou
Was in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother;
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now
Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother;
Thou'hast light in darke; and shutst in little roome,
Immensity cloystered in thy deare wombe.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

la corona

For this week leading up to and culminating with Christmas, I will be posting a series of seven sonnets by the metaphysical poet John Donne (1572-1631). In light of Behr's call to view the work of Christ holistically (click here for the post), I invite the reader to do just that, considering the progression and profound interrelatedness of the themes these sonnets treat as they weave through the life and work of Christ. The hope is that we might be again encouraged not to isolate, say, the incarnation of the Son of God, but view it in light of the entirety of God's beautiful plan of redemption through Jesus Christ, who was, and is, and is to come.

LA CORONA

Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise,
Weav'd in my low devout melancholie,
Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury,
All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes;
But doe not, with a vile crowne of fraile bayes,
Reward my muses white sincerity,
But what thy thorny crowne gain'd, that give mee,
A crowne of Glory, which doth flower alwayes;
The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends,
For, at our end begins our endlesse rest;
The first last end, now zealously possest,
With a strong sober thirst, my soul attends.
'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all that will is nigh.

_______
References:
Hayward, John. (ed.). (1950). John Donne: A Selection of His Poetry. New York, NY: Penguin.

icons of redeeming love

Around this time of year, a fleeting, but meaningful, transformation takes place within even the staunchest of non-liturgists, anti-traditionalists and individualists. This particular season seems to arouse in us an all too dormant desire to encode our world with meaning and rich symbolism through images and creation, declaring the unification of earth with heaven by the God-man, Jesus Christ. Winter, trees, candles, wreaths, ornaments, colors, nativity scenes, lights, scents, music, clothing/vestments, decorations - all of these become icons of redemption as we worship together the Savior of humankind (and all of yearning creation), drawing and being drawn together in mystical union as the body of Christ, joining in adoration the chorus of the universe as we worship in God's cosmic cathedral. In this way, even we, who are not typically wont to, indeed become liturgical in our orientation, traditional in our foundation, and communal in our expression. During Christmas, we reveal (even if ever so slightly) the freedom found in needless beauty and our bent toward litury. And, bear in mind that here I intend "liturgy" in a broad sense, in some basic air of agreement with Alexander Schmemann who writes (though we should note that he is speaking in the context of the Eucharist as liturgy):

There exist today "liturgical" and "non-liturgical" churches and Christians. But this controversy is unncecessary for it has its roots in one basic misunderstanding - the "liturgical" understanding of the liturgy. This is the reduction of the liturgy to "cultic" categories, its definition as a sacred act of worship, different as such not only from the "profane" area of life, but even from all other activities of the Church itself. But this is not the original meaning of the Greek word leitourgia. It meant an action by which a group of people become something corporately which they had not been as a mere collection of individuals - a whole greater than the sum of its parts. It meant also a function or "ministry" of a man or a group on behalf of and in the interest of the whole community. Thus the leitourgia of ancient Israel was the corporate work of a chosen few to prepare the world for the coming of the Messiah. And in this very act of preparation they became what they were meant to be, the Israel of God, the chosen instrument of His purpose.
Thus the Church itself is a leitourgia, a ministry, a calling to act in this world afte the fashion of Christ, to bear testimony to Him and His kingdom. (Schmemann 1973 [1963]:25)

Couching our activities in Schmemann's language, when we gather together to sing hymns and spiritual songs, feast together, pray together, and prepare together during this advent season, we recognize the inherently communal aspect of the body of Christ (which is corporate in perhaps the truest sense of the word) as we, by God's grace, become what we are meant to be and "bear testimony to Him and His kingdom." In this season, through art we beautify and adorn - ascribing, constructing, but also recognizing meaning as we coporately manifest the already/not-yet tension of being between two comings.

It is, perhaps, too easy to dismiss our sense of excitement, longing, and anticipation as simply childhood nostalgia; but we deprive ourselves of something deeper that verily relates to childlikeness, and the bent that directs us toward liturgy. Consider the following observations by the Catholic priest Romano Guardini (1885-1968) regarding "the playfulness of the liturgy":

The liturgy offers something higher. In it man, with the aid of grace, is given the opportunity of realizing his fundamental essence, of really becoming that which according to his divine destiny he should be and longs to be, a child of God. In the liturgy he is to go "unto God, Who giveth joy to his youth." All this is, of course, on the supernatural plane, but at the same time it corresponds to the same degree to the inner needs of man's nature. Because the life of the liturgy is higher than that to which customary reality gives both the opportunity and form of expression, it adopts suitable forms and methods from that sphere in which alone they are to be found, that is to say, from art. It speaks measuredly and melodiously; it employs formal, rhythmic gestures; it is clothed in colors and garments foreign to everyday life; it is carried out in places and at hours which have been co-ordinated and systematized according to sublimer laws than ours. It is in the highest sense the life of a child, in which everything is picture, melody and song.

Such is the wonderful fact which the liturgy demonstrates; it unites art and reality in a supernatural childhood before God. That which formerly existed in the world of unreality only, and was rendered in art as the expression of mature human life, has here become reality. These forms are the vital expression of real and frankly supernatural life. But this has one thing in common with the play of the child and the life of art - it has no purpose, but it is full of profound meaning. It is not work, but play. To be at play, or to fashion a work of art in God's sight - not to create, but to exist - such is the essence of the liturgy. From this is derived its sublime mingling of profound earnestness and divine joyfulness. The fact that the liturgy gives a thousand strict and careful directions on the quality of the language, gestures, colors, garments and instruments which it employs, can only be understood by those who are able to take art and play seriously. (Guardini 1998:70)

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedic XVI), in the introduction to his book of the same title as Guardini's, further expounds the notion of liturgy as play and the utter needlessness of its beauty:

Children's play seems in many ways a kind of anticipation of life, a rehearsal for later life, without its burdens and gravity. On this analogy, the liturgy would be a reminder that we are all children, or should be children, in relation to that true life toward which we yearn to go. Liturgy would be a kind of anticipation, a rehearsal, a prelude for the life to come, for eternal life, which St. Augustine describes, by contrast with life in this world, as a fabric woven, no longer of exigency and need, but of the freedom of generosity and gift. Seen thus, liturgy would be the rediscovery witin us of true childhood, of openness to a greatnes still to come, which is still unfulfilled in adult life. Here, then, would be the concrete form of hope, which lives in advance the life to come, the only true life, which initiates us into authentic life - the life of freedom, of intimate union with God, of pure openness to our fellowman. Thus it would imprint on the seemingly real life of daily existence the mark of future freedom, break open the walls that confine us, and let the light of heaven shine down upon earth. (Ratzinger 2000:14)

And so, too, the Christmas season is marked by "useless beauty" (Scmemann 1973 [1963]:30) and the sense of "play" by which we embrace true childhood as a key attribute of the people of God's kingdom (Mark 10:14-15). This is the non-utilitarian beauty that belies practicality, the adornment which elevates above the seemingly mundane. In every wreath, ribbon, tablecloth, and candle, we demonstrate the "unncessary" nature of beauty, which, far from depriving it of meaning, collaborates to inform its meaning as we, in joyful freedom, anticipate the life of the world to come.

_______
References:
Guardini, Romano. (1998). The Spirit of the Liturgy (A. Lane, Trans.). New York, NY: Herder & Herder. (Original English translation published in 1930; Original work in German published some time during WWI)

Ratzinger, Joseph. (2000). The Spirit of the Liturgy (J. Saward, Trans.). San Francisco, CA: Ignatius.

Schmemman, Alexander. (1973). For the Life of the World: Saraments and Orthodoxy. Crestwook, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press. (Original work published 1963)

quote of the week, december 19-25, 2010

All time is God's time. When the eternal Word assume human existence in the Incarnation, he also assumed temporality. He drew time into the sphere of eternity. At first it seems as if there can be no connection between the "always" of eternity and the "flowing away" of time. But now the Eternal One himself has taken time to himself. In the Son, time co-exists with eternity. God's eternity is not mere time-lessness, the negation of time, but a power over time that is really present with time and in time. In the Word incarnate, who remains man forever, the presence of eternity with time becomes bodily and concrete.

[...] The feast of Christ's birth on December 25 - nine months after March 25 [the day that the early "Church honored both the Annunciation by the angel and the Lord's conception by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the virgin"] - developed in the West in the course of the third century, while the East - probably because of a different calendar - at first celebrated January 6 as the birthday of Christ. It may also have been the response to a feast of the birth of the mythical gods observed on this day in Alexandria. The claim used to be made that December 25 developed in opposition to the Mithras myth, or as a Christian response to the cult of the unconquered sun promoted by Roman emperors in the third century in their efforts to establish a new imperial religion. However, these old theories can no longer be sustained. The decisive factor was the connection of creation and the Cross, of creation and Christ's conception. In the light of the "hour of Jesus", these dates brought the cosmos into the picture. The cosmos was now thought of as the pre-annunciation of Christ, the Firstborn of creation (cf. Col. 1:15). It is he of whom creation speaks, and it is by him that its mute message is deciphered. The cosmos finds its true meaning in the firstborn of creation, who has now entered history. From him comes the assurance that the adventure of creation, of a world with its own free existence distinct from God, does not end up in absurdity and tragedy but, throughout all its calamities and upheavals, remains something positive. God's blessing of the seventh day is truly and definitively confirmed. The fact that the dates of the Lord's conception and birth had a cosmic significance means that Christians can take on the challenge of the sun cult and incorporate it positively into the theology of the Christmas feast. There are magnificent texts that express this synthesis. For example, St. Jerome in a Christmas sermon says this: "Even creation approves our preaching. The universe itself bears witness to the truth of our words. Up to this day the dark days increase, but from this day the darkness decreases...The light advances, while the night retreats." Likewise, St. Augustine, preaching at Christmas to his flock in Hippo: "Brethren, let us rejoice. The heathen, too, may still make merry, for this day consecrates for us, not the visible sun, but the sun's invisible Creator." (Ratzinger 2000:92, 107-108)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. (John 1:1-5)

For [the Father] rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us into the kingdom of His beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. (Colossians 1:13-15)

The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
Day to day pours forth His speech,
And night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
Their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their utterances to the end of the world.
In them He has placed a tent for the sun,
Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber;
It rejoices as a strong man to run his course.
Its rising is from one end of the heavens,
And its circuit to the other end of them;
And there is nothing hidden from its heat. (Psalm 19:1-6)
_______
References:
Ratzinger, Joseph. (2000). The Spirit of the Liturgy (J. Saward, Trans.). San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press.

quote of the week, december 12-18, 2010

The passage below comes from John Behr's preface to his own book The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death. This section opens with the following quote from the Danish philosopher/theologian Søren Kierkegaard:

We only understand life backwards, but we must live forwards.

Behr maintains that Kierkegaard's comment applies to our modern understanding of theology, which has become fragmented. Moreover, Behr argues that, with regard to the Incarnation, the disciples understood and enterpreted this "event" as such retrospectively, in the light of Christ's Passion. I have selected this because it has potential implications for how we understand the Incarnation - its purpose, meaning, and relation to the Passion, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and coming of Jesus Christ - which is often the content of our contemplation during the Advent season. The way I read his work, Behr encourages us to consider the Incarnation of Christ in a holistic, "timeless" sense, rather than in a manner which is fragmented and compartmentalized. He writes:

It is sometimes said that for antiquity truth is what is, for enlightened modernity it is what was, and for postmodernity it is that which will have been. The historicizing approach of modernity places the truth of Jesus Christ firmly in the past - how he was born and what he did and said - and subjects his truth to our criteria of historicity, which are ultimately no more than a matter of what we find plausible (as evidenced by the "Jesus Seminar"). For antiquity, on the other hand, the truth of Christ is eternal, or better, timeless: the crucified and risen Lord is the one of whom scripture has always spoken. Yet, as the disciples come to recognize him, as the subject of scripture and in the breaking of the bread, he disappears from their sight (Lk 24.31). The Christ of Christian faith, revealed concretely in and through the apostolic proclamation of the crucified and risen Lord in accordance with scripture, is an eschatological figure, the Coming One. Hence the importance of the other half of Kierkegaard's observation, that while we understand retrospectively, we nevertheless live into the future. As we leave behind modernity's fascination with the past, it is possible that we we are once again in a position to recognize the eschatological Lord.

This, moreover, allows us to see a greater depth of meaning in the term "Incarnation." As it is only in the light of the Passsion that we can even speak of "Incarntion," the sense of the term is pregnant with greater fertility: by the proclamation of his gospel, the apostle Paul is in travail giving birth to Christ in those who receive his gospel (cf. Gal. 4.19), that is, who accept the interpretation he offers in accordance with the scripture, and are thereby born again to be the body of Christ. This is still in process, as our life is "hidden in Christ with God" (Col. 3.3). Yet the indeterminacy celebrated by post-modernism, locating the "event" always in the future, is given concrete content in Christian theology, by anchoring its account in the crucial moment of the passion. The timeless subject of Christian theology is the crucified and risen Lord, the one who "was from the beginning, [who] appeared new yet is to be found old, and is ever young, being born in the hearts of the saints." (Behr 2006:17-18)

_______
References:
Behr, John. (2006). The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press.

quote of the week, december 5-11, 2010

Writing on one way in which "theological beliefs change the way we value other things," George M. Marsden (Francis A. McAnaney Professor of History Emeritus at the University of Notre Dame) notes how the incarnation informs one of the potentially "positive contributions of Christianity to scholarship" (Marsden 1997:82):

For the Christian the incarnation is not an abstraction; it is central to the revelation of the character of God. [...] God's display of his sacrificial love to us in Christ relativizes our self-righteousness. United with Christ, we are to love even those whom we would naturally despise.

This revelation of the character of God in Christ should thus change our sensibilities toward other humans. In the incarnation, Christ emptied himself and became poor for our sake. He identified with the poor and the ordinary. Christ went so far as to instruct us that when we see the poor and destitute we see him. How we act toward them is an indicator of how we love him. Christ's incarnation honors what the world has not usually honored.

Once again we run into a central irony in attempting to isolate the implications of Christian commitments for our scholarship. The sensibilities of Christians toward the poor and the weak have been dulled by the very success of the assimilation of these same sensibilities by the wider Western culture and lately world culture. [...] One of the great tasks of Christian scholarship is to recover some dimensions of Christian teaching which have been alienated from their theological roots. This task is particularly urgent in an era when secular morality is adrift and traditional Christianity itself is too often beholden to the politics of self-interest and simplistic solutions. (Marsden 1997:92-93)

_______
References:
Marsden, George M. (1997). The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship. Oxford: Oxford University Press.