Somehow, I was assigned a passage that relates directly to themes I am currently addressing in my research. The text was Acts 2:37-47. The first part is the response of the Jerusalem crowds to Peter’s sermon and the second part is one of the famous descriptions of the early community life: sharing of goods, fellowship, etc. In my research, I am looking into sectarian impulses and mission impulses. In this passage, we have mission and we also have a strong internal community (I hesitate to use “sectarian”). Somehow there is a dialectic between the two. I find the combination intriguing. It’s not simply a “city on a hill” community–”Hey, look at how great we are! Wanna join up?” But there is an active, uh, “recruitment” initiative. It’s like a Billy Graham Crusade meets Menno Simons.

Mennonites tend to do better with the community part of this passage than the mission part, so I focused on the “mission” part as a challenge. The process of preparing the sermon, though, helped ground me a little bit. I think it has affected my perspective on my overall research, but I haven’t quite figured that out yet.

What an interesting journey this is–my career as a scholar of my own sacred texts. Last night, as I was in bed flipping through my Bible and considering the sermon and my research, I turned to my wife and said, “I love the Bible.” She handed me a bottle of pumped breast milk and asked me to go put it in the fridge. Life goes on. . .

Here are some of my favorite lines:

And God said a man is someone who pisses against a wall. . . No man in Germany pees standing up. That’s where we’re headed in this country, my friend. We got a bunch of pastors who pee sitting down. . . . We got a bunch of preachers, a bunch of leaders, who don’t stand up and piss against the wall like a man. And I’m gunna tell you something: that’s what’s wrong with America. . . . It’s because the editors of the NIV pee sitting down. . . . I’m gunna tell you something: I’m not gunna pee sitting down.

I knew there was a reason I didn’t like the NIV. Here’s the bit:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDxcyqeRc-4]

I am grateful that he doesn’t end his sermon by going up to the wall and urinating in front of the congregation. Personally, I’d rather listen to the folks at the Big Brother house talk about the Bible, which they did in their latest episode (the scene happens after 24 minutes and it’s just after the third to last commercial break). Jim West, on the other hand, thinks that “when people on Big Brother discuss the Bible it makes me want to pull my ears off and gouge my eyes out with a sharpened cattle prod. They must find the most ill-informed people on the planet to be on that show.” I thought it could’ve been a lot worse. Namely, it could have been Pastor Steven Anderson. You can find clips from the 24 hour live feed of the show on YouTube and here’s a clip of some more BB Bible Study (contains some offensive language):

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=qa9ehznCPc8]

To me, this shows a guy who is really interested in the Bible and paying attention to it chatting with someone else who thinks it’s worthwhile to read the Bible. They’re taking a note from Stephen Prothero! They may not understand everything or have the best hermeneutic, but at least they’re reading it.

The preacher that I heard delivered a powerful and accessible message about our responsibility to development work with the world’s poor and hungry people. I have this feeling that I was the only person in the room thinking about how he inappropriately allegorized details from one of Jesus’ miracles, referred to Luke’s account of the story as including “medical” details, and generally imposed his understanding of present day development work to the biblical text.

I feel so conflicted here. This preacher was inspiring. But here I am picking apart his exegesis! I don’t want to be some academic elitist who views the biblical texts as untouchable and incomprehensible to those who have not studied them in depth. Going beyond just the preacher’s message, I don’t want to be an intimidating presence for the people around me who have not studied the Bible. I don’t want people to be afraid of talking to me about their thoughts, for fear that I will tear it to shreds. Indeed, I want to be an accessible teacher of how one should approach the biblical text.

One time, I tried to be in a men’s quartet where I was clearly the least musically-trained person. I felt so intimidated and inadequate that I just gave up the group. I didn’t think I belonged there. I don’t want to be that guy that makes people feel that way about the Bible.

At the same time, I guess I pay attention to methodological details because if you don’t use proper exegesis and you are trying to find meaning in the biblical text (or any text), you can make it say whatever you’d like. It just so happened that I agreed with the preacher’s message, but someone could have used the same technique and made the text be about something that I would find abhorrent. I suppose I feel I have to be fair. If I’m going to tear apart a fundamentalist preacher’s argument, I ought to be prepared to tear apart an Anabaptist preacher’s argument.

So, if you are an academic in biblical studies, how do you reconcile your “elite” knowledge with a desire not to be “elitist”?

The one example that stands out most prominently is when he talks about the onlookers thinking the disciples are “filled with new wine.” The commentator says something to the effect of “The astute reader will notice that Jesus used these very same words back in Luke 5:33-39.” That’s the passage about “new wine” needing to go into “new wineskins.” The commentator says that it is a deliberate allusion by Luke to say that they are filled with the “new wine” of the gospel. I thought: “Wow, that’s cool. That’d be a great point.” But upon closer inspection, I noticed that they are not the same words in Greek! The word in Acts 2:13 is γλεῦκος while in Luke 5, two words are used: ὁ οἶνος ὁ νέος. Both are translated as “new wine” in many English translations. Neat symbolism, but it’s not truly in the text.

The commentator had a number of other shaky points on the passage, mostly when he appealed to some kind of deeper symbolic allusion like this “new wine” proposal. So, this is a testimonial for preachers (or seminary students writing papers) to make sure you double-check what you use from commentaries and a plea for scholars who publish commentaries to check the original language! (though, that should go without saying… )

For those who actually listen to it, feel free to leave whatever comments or questions you have. I’m a beginner (I’ve never taken homiletics) and I’m always open to getting better.

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The best feedback, though, came from our sermon conversation the other night. Here are some sermon excerpts and what was said about them:

Yet when we compare the story to other imaginative tales of Jesus the boy, Luke’s account seems tame. In the apocryphal Infancy Gospel of Thomas, written much later, we find stories of Jesus as a boy getting angry at another boy and causing him to “wither away” and killing another boy for bumping into him. On a more positive note, he raises a child from the dead after falling from a roof, but only after he’s accused of pushing him off the roof. Jesus raises the boy from the dead and the boy defends him. Jesus is this amazing, unpredictable child miracle worker, apparently unable to contain his power. Much different from Luke.

The pastoral staff said that it was good to drop some info about the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, but that it would have been good to qualify it a little better. I did use the word “apocryphal” and said it was “written much later,” but that could easily get missed. They suggested a “one-liner” that was something like, “While this type of document was left out of the canon of our Christian Bible (for good reason), it provides a window into the imagination of one part of the early church.” They weren’t too worried about it because my tone was clearly dismissive and humorous. But Jennifer said that “one-liners” are incredibly important for preaching. It is our way of distilling all the scholarly information that we have learned and making it understandable to the community of believers. It may compromise the complexity of the issues, but how much complexity should you put in a sermon?

And so my problem with these “did Jesus really say that?” passages is that I’m asking the wrong kind of question. But perhaps I’m not alone. The evangelical subculture and secular society alike seem to be obsessed with a Jesus who is your pal; Christ, your buddy. . . . The movie Dogma satirizes the idea of a Jesus as our buddy. In the movie, Cardinal Glick (played by George Carlin) heads up a campaign to make Jesus and the Catholic church a little more fun and friendly. The campaign slogan is “Catholicism – WOW!” and a “Buddy Christ” statue is its spokesman. The statue features Jesus with the traditional robes, long hair and beard, but adds a thumbs up with his left hand, points with his right hand as if to say “You the man!” and gives a wink. If you want, you can even purchase “buddy Christ” dashboard statues and bobbleheads.

For this one, I depicted the “buddy Christ” image by mimicking the stance. Pastor Jennifer said that it was a great image and surely stuck with people afterwards, but suggested that they were being left with the wrong image. It is an image of what I’m saying is bad and I didn’t have another image to replace it, so they will remember the “buddy Christ” but maybe not my point. If we’re leaving a strong image with the congregation, we should make sure it is an image that reinforces our point in a positive way. (Notice that I did borrow part of description of “buddy Christ” as set in Dogma)

We are reminded of the tale of Jesus, 20 years or so older, speaking to a crowd and seemingly blowing off his family once more: The crowd tells him that his mother, brothers and sisters are looking for him. But instead of running over to his “earthly” family, he asks the crowd, “Who are my mother and brothers and sisters anyway?” And answering his own question, he says that they are right here: “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Or in Luke’s version, Jesus’ family is made up of those “who hear the word of God and do it.” Elsewhere in the Luke, Jesus says, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” In order to be Jesus’ disciple, we must hate our families. Maybe some of us would have an easier time than others “hating” our families . . . . Be that as it may! It is not really talking about a feeling of hatred; like the word “love” in the Bible, “hate” is an action word. Instead, Jesus demands from us the will to sacrifice our families and our very lives if we claim to be his disciples.

The team told me that my joke about “hating our families” was well-placed. The holidays can be stressful for many who have a hard time with their families and it was a way to name that stress, make it a common point that we acknowledge, and laugh about it. Incidentally, I did get specific feedback on that joke from someone in the congregation who appreciated it as well.

There were other comments. I mentioned Love Actually as an entertaining movie that has some good themes, but misses the point of Christmas. I didn’t mention, however, the nudity that might be disturbing to some. I think that’s okay for PMC, but in another context it might be something to point out. Also, I talked with Katherine about how much should we reveal about our own stories in sermons, since I used myself and my life experience as an example a few times. She didn’t think that I did anything inappropriately, but it’s something to watch out for. Overall, it was a good experience and I learned quite a bit in the process. I have one more sermon and that’s coming up in a few months. We’ll see how it goes.

First, I should tell you what the sermon was about. For Advent, PMC was using the lectionary and I was preaching on the story of boy Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:41-52). It’s a hard story to preach on. When I read the text for myself, I usually feel like Jesus is kind of like a spoiled brat. Here are his parents looking all over the place for him and when they find him, all angst filled, Jesus seemingly blows them off: “Why were you worried? You should have known where I’d be.” So this passage, for me, has been included in those passages that I label: “Did Jesus really say that?”

It’s not a historical Jesus thing, it’s a “what would it be like to be around Jesus?” thing. I used to joke with my college roommates about how frustrating it would be to be one of Jesus’ disciples. Ask him if he wants to grab some lunch, he spouts off something about being the bread of life. But the problem here is in our cultural desire to imagine Jesus as our buddy. In my sermon, I suggested that trying to think of Jesus as our pal misses the point. The Jesus of the Gospels is challenging us as we read the text. The boy Jesus may seem like a spoiled brat (even though he doesn’t seem all that bad when compared to the Infancy Gospel of Thomas or, for that matter, my own childhood), but it is not about that. Jesus is showing that being in his “Father’s house” is the most important priority. Obedience to the divine Parent demands our first loyalty, above family. The passage is also part of a kind of genre of what I called “growing up in God” stories. And I offered that this text is about how we are all growing up in God, trying to figure out how to be dedicated and obedient to God in our own personal situations and cultural contexts.

Now for the feedback. I did get many of the generic “nice sermon” comments, which for my first time preaching in a church setting helps me realize that I didn’t just totally botch things up. But they don’t really make me feel good about the sermon; I’d like to know how the message was received. To that effect, I did hear from a few people that many families visiting the church were personally affected. Since my sermon was about our loyalty to God being more important than loyalty to our families, some parents appreciated the message, while it made some other parents squirm in their pew. I think a successful sermon makes people squirm uncomfortably . . . well, because they’re challenged personally, not because the sermon is really awful.

[ . . . continued in following post]