Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

The Death Penalty for False Prophecy Brad Jersak

JESUS CHRIST ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

I believe that when Jesus Christ said, “He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone at her” (John 8:7), he forever put to rest the question of the death penalty. This was his final verdict on the matter. Sadly, those who claim Christ as Lord are now statistically most in support of capital punishment. In fact, it’s odd that those who take the strongest stand on behalf of the unborn are, ironically, most reticent to abandon state-sponsored killing. That suggests to me that the rhetoric is less about saving lives than it is about partisan-identity.

Here’s what we know about God through the revelation of Jesus: our Abba is utterly opposed to the reign of death and his disciples will not participate in death-dealing of any kind. Until Christianity got in bed with Empire, the church heard these words of Christ as a mandate for all believers: “Put your sword back into its place; for all those who take up the sword will perish by the sword” (Matthew 26:52).

THE HOLY FUNCTION OF THE DEATH PENALTY

What then do we make of the Torah’s use of the death penalty? Did God issue those commands? Were they accommodations to ancient near eastern culture? Was that simply a projection of humanity’s default violence? Or part of the old covenant now abolished with the capital murder of Christ? These are complex questions worthy of much study and debate. No matter how we might finally answer them, I want to raise just one factor for thought.

I would propose that the pedagogical intent of the Law was to establish the measure of eye-for-an-eye justice. This has some implications, some of which may surprise readers:

• The Law sought to take vengeance out of the hands of the victim or vigilante and made justice the responsibility of the community.
• The Law sought to end cycles of escalation and retribution with a penalty proportionate to the crime.

So far, we’re still in the realm of the obvious. But as a rabbi friend of Lazar Puhalo pointed out, “If we Jews had taken the Law literally, eventually, the last surviving Jew would have had to stone himself to death.” The aphorism is humorous but also powerful in its implications:

• The Law established the measure of the seriousness of the sin. This is not the same as meting out the penalty for that sin.
• The Law established the weight of leverage behind the call to the true and higher justice of repentance and reconciliation.

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT – REBELLIOUS CHILDREN

Let’s begin with an example of a rebellious child. In Deuteronomy 21:18-21, the law says that a wayward son or daughter must be put to death. Seriously? Did they really expect parents to bring their children in to be stoned? No. That wasn’t the point.

The point was that the death penalty showed the children that the sin of rebellion is equivalent to death in its seriousness. Rebellion inevitably, ultimately costs lives. So, there we have the measure or gravity of rebellion. Was the point of that law now to mete out death to the child? No. Rather, by laying out such a serious penalty for the crime, the rebellious teen, the adulterer, or the murderer would be motivated to enter a thorough process of repentance and reconciliation. Instead of seeing the law as retributive justice to be exacted, it became the negotiating chip for restoration in families, between neighbours, and across communities.

EXECUTING FALSE PROPHETS

Now a word about those false prophets. You know who I mean, right? In recent context, we witnessed public ministers who presumed to deliver political prophecies prescribing partisan policies and people, issued divine threats, cursed those who voted for the other faction’s candidate, incited violence, proclaimed victory “in Jesus’ name,” and even now continue to deny that they were mistaken or lying. A very rare few have become repentant, grieving over their spiritual casualties, and owning their responsibility for creating fanatics. In God’s wisdom, some are even valued friends of mine for whom I feel compassion and can offer redemption.

Now given my personal commitment to the nonviolence of the Jesus Way and my opposition to the death penalty, you might find my proposal shocking.

It’s time to reinstate the death penalty for false prophets.

Yes, you heard me. And yes, my own missteps would surely put me in their company.

I am NOT saying that anyone should pick up stones to execute them.

Rather, I am urgently reminding those who purport to be prophets that these types of errors are not just a little “oops” that we play around with apart from consequences. Prophetic delusions and deceptions cost lives. Literally. Those lost lives have names: Brian D. Sicknick, Ashli Babbitt, Benjamin Philips, Kevin Greeson, Rosanne Boyland, Howard Liebengood, and Jeffrey Smith. Today these folks are dead, in great part through the blasphemies of defiant prophets who gave spiritual sanction to the capitol siege. The biblical sentence for that is death.

Deuteronomy 13 ¹ “If a prophet or someone who has dreams arises among you and proclaims a sign or wonder to you, ² and that sign or wonder he has promised you comes about, but he says, ‘Let us follow other gods,’ which you have not known, ‘and let us worship them,’ ³ do not listen to that prophet’s words or to that dreamer. For the Lord your God is testing you to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul. ⁴ You must follow the Lord your God and fear Him. You must keep His commands and listen to His voice; you must worship Him and remain faithful to Him. ⁵ That prophet or dreamer must be put to death, because he has urged rebellion against the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt and redeemed you from the place of slavery, to turn you from the way the Lord your God has commanded you to walk. You must purge the evil from you.

THE LIFE-GIVER’S INVITATION

In light of the sobriety of such texts, we are grateful that God is a life-giver and not a death-dealer, and we would hope those who follow Jesus Christ emulate that commitment. We worship the Redeemer, not an executioner. But the fact that God has no intention whatsoever of taking the life of even one of the false prophets does not negate the measure of severity that the Law assigns their capital crimes.

That God applies amazing grace to sin rather than striking down the sinner does not at all diminish the seriousness of the sin. Rather, the Law is a tutor that illuminates the unfathomable grace already granted, ironically, through the unjust execution of Christ. And it reveals the corresponding depth of honesty, humility, repentance, and willingness to make amends appropriate to the offender. Irrespective of the world system’s retributive ideologies, Christ always, always opens a path to redemption and forgiveness. That gospel is powerful to generate our joyous response. But woe to those who receive the invitation and then double down in their insolence. Far better to take hold of the good news, and here it is:    

 “For we will surely die and become like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Yet God does not take away a life; but He devises means, so that His banished ones are not expelled from Him” (2 Samuel 14:14).

So, once again, I invite those who prophesied falsely, whether knowingly or in ignorance, in good faith or in bad, to own their sin, recognize its seriousness, acknowledge due judgment, and then ask for the mercy already granted. Rather than putting prophets to death, these ‘prophets’ are to put to death the practices that set stumbling stones and snares in their disciples’ path. For some, it is already too late to abandon the lemming run to self-destruction. But to those for whom the wages of sin have not been paid, I implore you: open your hands to grace and start the trek home. I’ll meet you on the way.

IRPJ.org Presents: Keys to Interfaith Dialogue – Safi Kaskas, Brad Jersak, Andrew Klager

The “Biblification” of Scripture: Ups & Downs of Canonical Technology - Brad Jersak

The Medium is the Message

Marshall McLuhan is most popularly known for the slogan, “The medium is the message,” which was his call to be mindful of the implicit impacts that come with the adoption of any new technology. He suggested four questions (labeled “the tetrad of media effects”), which helps us see the ups and downs of any new medium:

1. What does the medium enhance?
2. What does the medium make obsolete?
3. What does the medium retrieve that had been obsolesced earlier?
4. What does the medium reverse or flip into when pushed to extremes?

Today, technology advances so rapidly that whatever you can imagine is likely already in development or patented somewhere. The pace of our lives and social obligation to keep up puts mindfulness in the back seat. Speed-of-light communication has drawn us into our smartphones and the parallel universe of social media without sufficient attentiveness to McLuhan’s questions. “The Social Dilemma” (2020) was a wake-up call to the alarming levels of algorithmic manipulation and privacy invasion to which we’ve assented… but had little to no effect on our practices. The world system simply does allow me to be a Luddite.

Prior to the digital age of computers and the internet, the greatest technological breakthrough was surely Guttenberg’s printing press. With the printing press, in concert with the impulse for Scripture translation, came the mass production and distribution of the Bible in the language of the people. It’s easy enough to see how Gutenberg’s gift could enhance, make obsolete, retrieve, and subvert the practice of Bible reading (and even literacy) wherever the Good Book became available. I suppose much ink has been spilled on that question.

The Bible as Technology

What fascinates me is how the Bible itself became a technology that repackaged and reframed the Scriptures, with real effects on the message itself. Scripture has always come to us through delivery systems: oral and written, scrolls and codices, liturgies and lectionaries. These are, in themselves, technologies. How might the medium—the way we package and deliver the scriptures—affect or become the message itself?

Said another way, the Scriptures were reframed with new and sometimes problematic assumptions when they became “the Bible.” The Scriptures as read by the church in the context of worship vis-a-vis the Bible as a bound book on my bedstand may have the same content, but their different shape and use may render differing interpretations. This is especially true when a hyper-individual reads the Bible as a “flat book” (every page has equal authority) versus when the community reads a collection of Scriptures serving as witnesses to the gospel of Jesus Christ.[1]   

The Biblification of the Scriptures

Using McLuhan’s tetrad, consider:

1. How does the Bible medium enhance Scripture reading?

We could say that the Bible gathers together the Scriptures into a single collection that clarifies which books our Christian tradition considers inspired by the Spirit. We give that collection priority in terms of authority in our lives and churches. The Bible, seen as a holy book, is set apart from other sacred literature and communicates the uniqueness of our Scriptures. We come to see that we are not only in possession of a library of independent and disconnected booklets but that the many books have converged into a coherent, grand saga.

2. What does the Bible medium retrieve that had been obsolesced earlier?

I’ve moved McLuhan’s third question up to point out a corollary. Having the Bible in one affordable book and accessible in one’s own language retrieves the Scriptures so that we can once again hear them in our own languages. The authors who produced the Scriptures in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Koine Greek meant for those who heard them to understand what was written. But through great stretches of Christian history, lay people could only hear the Scriptures read in foreign languages (e.g., Latin) through priests who might not understand it any better than they did. That someone can now hear and read John 3:16 in their own tongue is a grand retrieval.       

3. What does the Bible medium make obsolete in Scripture reading?

The above is all-too-familiar (and celebrated by Protestants) but there is also a downside. As a bound collection of books available to every individual in hardcopy, on a smartphone app, or online, what gets lost? What previous medium might become obsolete that compromises the message?

I would suggest that the liturgical reading of the Scriptures in the context of community worship and the lectionary cycles with its connections of linked texts provided an essential medium for understanding the message that both preceded the Bible, and which is not so obvious in the printed version. In other words, the “divine liturgy” of the church is a medium that functions to frame the Scriptures within the canon of faith—the message of the gospel—showing how they work together within the drama of redemption that inexorably points to Christ, crucified and risen. So too the lectionary cycles: these frame the Scriptures within the church calendar precisely in order to lead us to Christ and his gospel.

Fr. John Behr suggests that reading the Bible apart from its gospel framework, preserved in the liturgical tradition, may not even be reading it as Scripture. If I sit down with my Bible and flip it open to any page in the book, I’ve potentially removed that page from its specific role in its gospel context. One could study the Bible their whole lives and yet miss the essential reality to Whom all the Scriptures point. Certainly, Jesus’ opponents had.     

4. What does the Bible medium reverse or flip into when pushed to extremes?

This then suggests a terrible reversal if the Bible medium enters the extremes of bibliolatry: we see this subversion when the Bible is elevated to the right hand of the Father and honored with the title “Word of God”—the name that belongs to Jesus Christ.

Through a flat reading of the Bible, I have often seen particular Scriptures used to argue against the very teachings of Jesus Christ, justifying from the idolized text that which the Word himself forbade. When the Bible becomes our final authority, Jesus is demoted and becomes a mere episode in the Good Book. Ironically, the message of the Scriptures becomes lost to the medium we call the Bible when its Emmaus Way framework is subverted with the new technology.

I recognize this may be entirely new material to readers unfamiliar with liturgical calendars or liturgical services, but consider that our Jewish roots observed an annual cycle of feasts and fasts, that the Gospel of John is organized according to these events, and that Jesus consciously framed those festivals as prefigurements of his story.     

What then?

No, I haven’t thrown out my iPhone or canceled my online accounts. Neither will I discard my excessive collection of Bibles or cease all private study of its wonderful pages. But what I can commit to is submitting my reading of the Scriptures to their gospel context. I can read them in the way prescribed by the church, as the message concerning Jesus, the One who is the I AM whose day Abraham foresaw, the One of whom Jesus says Moses wrote, the One to whom all the Prophets and Scriptures bear witness. And I will see the Scriptures within the canon of faith before I imagine them within the Moroccan bindings. And I will read and hear the Scriptures as a product and function of the church, ancient and modern, that faithfully stewards them.    

Summary

I'm seeing ever more clearly how the annual calendar of feasts and fasts, and the weekly divine liturgy, are the framework through which we see the Scriptures come together to tell our story of redemption both yearly and weekly. By stripping Christianity of the liturgical framework in which all Scripture has its role and place in the great story (in the name of breaking free from tradition and religion), we're left with a Bible organized only by genre, with no clue how Moses, the Prophets and all the Scriptures prefigure the Passion, and a randomized sequence of mini-series contrived by independent preachers.

 

The calendar is like an auger that cycles deeper and deeper through the clay to access the pure springs of a deep faith. Too often, we've opted instead to dig random holes throughout the yard so that when the rain comes, we're drinking from a selection of shallow, muddy puddles.

 

[1] Cf. John Behr, “Looking Forward, Reading from the End,” The Oxford Handbook of the Bible in Orthodox Christianity (Oxford Press, forthcoming).

"Life in Christ: Ecclesia & Liturgical Function" Interview with David Goa - Brad Jersak

Brad Jersak: In a previous interview over breakfast, you late out a rich and layered definition of ecclesia. Prior to that, the chief critique of my own theology was its rather thin version of what I imagined (or overlooked) as "church." I'd like to review those. 

David Goa: Adapting Maximos the Confessor's rich understanding of the church and the cosmos, as I understand him, we might think of the ecclesia in six registers: 

David Goa:  Eastern Orthodox ecclesiology is highly layered.

1. The Ecclesia refers, first of all, to the great gathering, the cosmos. This is because the whole cosmos is saved by the Energies of God.
2. The second layer includes all those men and women, from all times and places, who have experienced grace and expressed mercy. They are Ecclesia we Orthodox like to chat with.
   
   
3. The third layer we call the Christian tradition, including the heretics. More specifically the Way of Christ that we’ve inherited.
   
   
4. The fourth layer is more textured. We think of the Eastern Orthodox Church in its gifts, its wounds, its limits and its capacities.
   
   
5. The fifth layer of the Ecclesia is my parish (where we gather to pray together, but also the locale where that gathering is situated).

6. Finally, the Ecclesia is the world I walk in, the people I meet—whenever I experience a moment of grace, wherever I am an eyewitness to the heavenly kingdom in the lives of those I encounter.

Brad Jersak: I have found this incredibly beneficial. It resonates with Fr. Christopher Foley said: "The Church is our life in Christ and should shape and inform every area of our life."

That posits the church as more than an event, an institution, or even a people. There's a verb to this notion--a way of being. Can you help me understand what it means for the church to be "our life in Christ."

David Goa: Yes, one sense of ekklesia is "our Life in Christ." Our life in Christ, as such, is attentiveness to Reality and our capacity to bless it. Not that everyone who has a vibrant life in Christ identifies with Jesus of Nazareth yet and many who do identify with Jesus today do not have a life of any sort.

Brad Jersak: I can see that. Certainly, Cornelius in Acts 10 is an example of a righteous man, accepted by God, and alive to both God and the poor. 

But in that case--if the church is our life in Christ--why gather for worship?

David Goa: Because the hyper-individualism of our culture generally leads those who fail to gather to become private and flaky mystics. So, why worship? And what is worship? I can tell you that many church gatherings I've attended would not constitute minimal 'worship' in any true sense.

Brad Jersak: Okay, then. What is worship as you understand it? And why do we worship?

David Goa: Worship has much to do with how our lives are being cultivated by the liturgy in a community of belonging.

The liturgy is first and foremost a spiritual discipline. It's something we 'work at,' like the discipline of developing skills we would need to participate in a symphony orchestra or in team sports. That takes time and growth. It includes the discipline of undergoing personal training, participating in team training, then playing together, and we spend time doing that on a regular basis. As with sports or music, the discipline of mind, heart, diet, and space bring worship together in excellence. And it is in playing together that we heighten creation's symphony.

Brad Jersak: I would struggle with how to communicate this to Evangelicals or charismatics who have a particular notion of 'worship' but are unfamiliar with 'liturgy' except as the repetitive rote prayers they regard as 'religious' in a negative sense. How would I communicate what liturgy is and does vis-a-vis their worship experiences and assumptions?

David Goa: In other words, how do we communicate the function of the liturgy to a Protestant?

First, the liturgy does not exist for itself. The liturgy exists for the life of the world so that when you walk out of the church doors and down the street, the world is made new to you. You see the world in a new way. The new heavens and the new earth are there … in the grace of walking the elderly person across the street or empty your wallet to a homeless person. The liturgy is meant to help us see the world as God sees it. And God sees it as delight.

Second, as a spiritual discipline, liturgical worship has two functions--both have to do with attentiveness. Liturgical attentiveness includes (1) an apophatic discipline of emptying and (2) a discipline of wonder and praise.

Not enough attention is given to its apophatic aspect, by which I mean, liturgy helps us empty ourselves of the things that aren’t real—e.g. our fears and desires.

All disciplines do this: they cultivate your capacity to become conscious of your dis-eases--your fears, your desires--which is why the liturgy is so repetitive: to fatigue the wall of denial between our conscious and unconscious mind… so the third or thirtieth time you pray, “Lord, have mercy,” some unrecognized uneasiness rises to the surface to be anointed and maybe even healed. So, liturgy is a spiritual discipline that helps us become attentive to something other than our fears and desires ... but they do need to be surfaced, offered up, and let go of.

In other words, the liturgy is an amazing way of offering the brokenness of our lives up so that we are resurrected to the fulness of our life again.

Brad Jersak: When we receive the Eucharist, we hear that it is offered up "for the life of the world." There's this outward focus through which we see our priesthood as a vicarious ministry rather than an exclusive, in-house activity. How do you see this? 

David Goa: For many, ecclesiology and liturgical theology is focused on how the liturgy and especially communion expresses the truth that we are all one. It is a symbol of unity.

But as a discipline, it is about our relationships to each other, to our deepest selves, to the life of the world in all its messiness, and to the triune God. We gather up the whole world three times in the litanies of the divine liturgy: at the beginning, in the face of the gospel, and in receiving the gifts. These call litanies call to attention how we may have become dull to the life of the world and call us to be present again in fullness, praying for everything and everyone, from travelers to weather to governments to crops. Like any practice, it has a purpose, which isn’t the practice itself, but the fruit of the practice in your everyday life in the world.

Brad Jersak: That is, we empty ourselves of those unreal cravings and fears and resentments that distract us and we dismantle the partitions we've created to life beyond our egoism. That's the emptying function. Now the wonder? 

David Goa: The other function of the liturgy is the deepening of our capacity, language, and sensorium to praise, express delight, to see the beauty and wonder of it all. The first is a language of therapy—outing you—raising the diseases to place them on the throne of grace where they disappear. And this side is the language of wonder.

Brad Jersak: Yes, in praise and gratitude of the Creator and the cosmos that 'spilled' out of Love's plenitude. 

I can see what Jesus may have meant, then, by God looking for those who will worship in s/Spirit and in truth. From Eugene Peterson's Message translation:

"The time is coming—it has, in fact, come—when what you’re called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter. 

It’s who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That’s the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before him in their worship. God is sheer being itself—Spirit. Those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration.” (John 4:22-24 MSG).

The liturgy of Spirit and truth is not merely a privatized ethereal spirituality. It is the practiced capacity to of attention to what needs flushing our and what incites wonder. 

 

BEYOND “HOPEFUL UNIVERSALISM” – Bradley Jersak

In recent years, I find myself sitting comfortably with friends who would self-identify as “hopeful universalists.” It’s not a label I am comfortable with, for a number of reasons, though I’m certainly fine with the spirit of their intent. The following clarifies why I resist the label for myself:

 

1. Until recently, I called my position “hopeful inclusivism” as described by Hans Urs von Balthasar and Kallistos Ware, but have discovered that people consistently misunderstand “hopeful” as if I mean “wishful” or “doubtful” or “maybe.” The upside of that misunderstanding is that they correctly infer that I am not “dogmatic” and this saves me a bit of grief.  And it’s true: I would not teach “ultimate redemption” (my conviction) as dogma or doctrine. But my position is actually a third critter:

 

I have always clarified that when I say “hopeful,” my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. That is, I use “hope” the same way Paul does when he refers to Christ as our “blessed hope.” He is completely convinced of something that is yet to come. For Paul, “the glorious appearing of Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13) is not wishful or doubtful. He holds a conviction that is anchored specifically in the faithfulness of Jesus. In the same way, I am personally convinced of ultimate redemption or the restoration/summing up of all things in Christ. I believe the New Testament anticipates this telos dozens of times. And in that sense, I’ve moved from Balthasar’s and Ware’s open-ended hopeful inclusivism (that leaves room for the possibility in principle, however unlikely, that some might forever reject the love of God) to a more confident conviction (as in St. Gregory of Nyssa or St. Maximos the Confessor) that meeting Christ face-to-face will so heal the soul and remove the dysfunctions of the fallen will, that an entirely willing response to grace will inevitably result (a la Paul’s conversion or the Phil. 2 confession of faith).

 

On the other hand, I call this a confident conviction, rooted, I think, in Scripture and good theology BUT am not permitted (by my conscience or my spiritual father) to teach it as doctrine. Simply put, the Nicene Creed (our dogma) says of eschatology:

• He will come again [doesn’t say how],
• to judge the living and that dead [doesn’t specify whether retributive or restorative],
• We look for the resurrection, and
• the life of the age to come.

There is no dogmatic statement about the destiny of unbelievers or the nature of hell.

There is no dogmatic statement that all shall be saved or that any shall be damned.

So while I hold a personal conviction that all shall be saved, and am even free to share my conviction and the reasons for it, I cannot impose it as doctrine, nor should the infernalists. To do so, in my mind, is technically a heresy (a mistake) because it violates the freedom of conviction of such mysteries as preserved in the Creed.

 

2. Despite my conviction in ultimate redemption and belief that the Scriptures teach that all shall be saved, I have also always resisted the word “universalism.” The reason for this is because the term has become so nebulous that using such a broad brush incites a lot of mistaken inferences and dismissive misrepresentations. But the problem is not only in those who misunderstand what I would mean by the term. It’s also a problem among those who use it. From my observations, today, the great majority of those who identify as ‘universalists’ have minimized some elements I believe to be essentials of the gospel. Specifically, MOST universalists now seem to downplay or negate:

• the seriousness of sin and its consequences,
• the necessity or even reality of the Incarnation,
• the critical importance of Christ’s death and resurrection,
• the reality of judgment and of a final judgment,
• the necessity of a truly willing faith response to Jesus.

If most universalists find these elements optional or even unsavory, and if labeling myself a universalist causes opponents to infer wrongly that I don’t hold to them, then it’s not the right term for me. Far too often, the word creates a redline that simply ends the conversation. Far better if I create bewilderment that demands further questions. For example, if I say, “I’m a universalist” (hopeful or otherwise), the immediate response is “You’re a heretic.” But if I say, “I am not a universalist but I believe in ultimate reconciliation,” at least I get the opportunity to answer the question, “What’s the difference?” And to that I reply with the convictions above in this way:

 

Most universalists disregard the following but I am convinced that:

• the wages of sin is death and that its fatal consequences require a means of redemption,
• the means of our redemption is through the Incarnation of Jesus Christ,
• and if all shall be saved, only by his death and resurrection,
• and that by way of a final but penultimate restorative judgment,
• followed by a universal willing faith response (nothing is automatic OR coerced). 

For these reasons, I like to speak of judgment as penultimate (the age to come) and redemption as ultimate (“the end of the ages” when “God is all and in all”). That way I don’t need to skirt any of the dire warnings about a forthcoming judgment. But then I also insist that mercy gets the final word. 

 

In Her Gates Will Never Be Shut, I said that we cannot presume that all shall be saved or that any shall be damned, but rather, that the love of God obligates and inspires us to hope, pray, preach, and live for the salvation of all. That is the express will of God revealed in the NT. Now, I would add this follow-up question that simplifies things for me: does the NT foresee God’s will coming about? To that, I would offer my favorite catena of 32 Scriptures that dare us to “hope” and let the reader see if it speaks to their convictions.

PSA's Moral Monster - Brad Jersak with Lazar Puhalo

Abp. Lazar: "I'm afraid that Evangelicalism itself can ultimately lead a thinking person away from Christ altogether. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that fundamentalism and the right-wing can do this, and most certainly does. When hate is interpreted as love there is little chance for trusting Jesus Christ to take root."

 

Brad: Agreed.

 

Some people who believe in penal substitution say that they know how much God loves him BECAUSE he killed his Son instead of them. To sacrifice one's own beloved child instead of me shows how much he values me. BUT the problem with such a disturbing vision of "love" is exposed by the way it fractures the human heart in its call to respond to such perverted love. The questions arise:

 

If I don't respond, what will he do? He will burn me forever. I'd better respond then. What sort of faith is that? It is nothing more than terrorism. The sinner's prayer becomes a contrived hostage video.

 

If I respond, did I respond well enough that I can truly believe he won't turn on me as well? What sort of moralistic striving does this generate, with the constant fear of abandonment ever lurking at every failure to perform well enough?

 

Even if I respond, what does this say about the nature of a child-sacrificing Father? If my neighbor's child breaks my window, and in my fury, demand my pound of flesh, if I take out my wrath on my own child instead of the neighbor, will the neighbor be inclined to run to my house when they've broken another window? Or will they run and hide? Will they see me as their benevolent benefactor? Or will they perceive in me a monster to be avoided at all costs?

 

This is not the Abba revealed through the life and passion of Jesus Christ. What it is, such a god may only be held, as George MacDonald said, in bitter loathing.

"Postcards from Babylon: the Church in American Exile" -- documentary review by Brad Jersak

"Postcards from Babylon: the Church in American Exile"
Documentary review by Brad Jersak

“Come home. You’re better than this.”

—Daniel Dietrich, Hymn for the 81%

You had me at Brian Zahnd.

When the first seven days of 2021 had already trumped (sic) the insanity of 2020, and Christian nationalism had erupted in all manner of ‘prophetic’ blasphemies, I was neither surprised nor confused. That’s a lie. But I wasn’t bereft. That’s because I had already read the clear-minded social commentary of an actual national prophet—my friend and online pastor, Brian Zahnd. But what I pined for was that his sanity would be amplified for those whose heads are spinning. Cue the Postcards documentary.

A word about where I’m coming from. While I’m primarily known as a theologian, my Ph.D. was in political theology, exploring the intersection of political philosophy and our theology of the Cross. Politically, I’m a Canadian “High Tory” conservative who regards the entire American experiment (from far left to far right) as a violent exultation in freedom as self-will. That’s problematic for me as a Christian resident in a vassal state under the direct shadow of history’s most powerful empire.

But I don’t hate America any more than Jesus hated Rome. Indeed, most of my best friends are Americans and I find their enthusiastic hospitality and authenticity incredibly beautiful. It’s the ‘empire’ part that’s troubling—but particularly when faith is seduced by the powers “in the name of Jesus.” And that’s where Postcards is crucial. “Americanism,” says Zahnd, “is a rival religion to authentic Christian faith.” It’s an unholy harmonization of the American dream and some patriotic, nationalistic and militaristic aberration of the gospel.

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Q&R with Brad Jersak - "I struggle with prayers to the Mother of Jesus"

Question:

 

Hi Brad, I'm wondering if you would point me to some articles or resources that might help me better understand the prayers to the Theotokos ["Mother of God"]. As a pastor whose entire upbringing and training has been in the Evangelical church, I struggle most with any prayers directed toward the Mother of Jesus. 

 

Response:

 

When I think of Orthodox prayers to the Theotokos, some separate puzzle pieces come to mind that bear thinking about. Which pieces you use and how you assemble them is going to be personal to you.

Puzzle Piece 1 - John 19:25-27

And standing by the Cross of Jesus his mother, and the sister of his mother, Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary, the Magdalene. Jesus, therefore, seeing his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing by, said to his mother: “Woman, behold thy son.” Then, he said to the disciple “Behold thy mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own [home].

The historic/apostolic tradition understood this passage to mean that Christ gave his mother to become the mother of his church family. At other times (as in Shepherd of Hermes), Mary also represents the church itself, which serves as a mother to individual disciples. But the point is that the legitimate felt-need for a 'Mother God' in Protestant Progressive movements would be redundant for Orthodox and Catholic believers who already know the love of a mother in the Theotokos. They believe Christ himself directly gifted her to us for that very purpose. How we see this passage is a major puzzle piece in our theology of Theotokos.

 

Puzzle Piece 2 - "Prayer" and "Mediation" 

 

It's important to understand what Orthodox and Catholic believers mean by "pray" in its ancient English form, which simply refers to making a request. Think Shakespeare. "I pray thee." Pray in this sense is something we do all the time, particularly if we are sending out "prayer requests." I ask friends and family and even strangers to pray for me all the time. Granted, I am more likely to ask my wife to pray for me than most other people I know because of her love for me and her track record of faith-filled, fervent and effective prayers (cf. James 5). If I ask Eden to pray for me, I am not denying my own direct access to God. I can ask God for myself. So why do I invite her to join her prayers to mine? I don't know how it 'works' but I do see the apostles modeling that same request to their congregations (e.g. Eph. 6). And so we invoke help in presenting our requests to God. Pretty normal. 

 

So why would we not invoke the prayers of the Theotokos who is (a) alive, (b) with Christ, (c) has an earthly track record of making bold requests of him, (d) and is now glorified with divinized capacities to minister as an intercessor? To seek out the best makes sense to me and who has ever modeled a greater combination of surrender and boldness before God (Father, Son, and Spirit) than Mary? 

 

The fact that Mary is a living person (we believe she's alive, right?) who continues to intercede for the saints (as we all should) shouldn't stumble us, but somehow, Protestants got fixated on the problem of mediation. Paul said, "We have one mediator between God and man--the man Christ Jesus." True! But apparently, his unique mediation does not exclude intercession by a concerned third party mother at the Throne of Grace, nor does it disqualify any of us from ministering on God's behalf to his children. We have one mediator but many intercessors before God and many ministers from God.      

 

Puzzle Piece 3 - "Save us" 

 

When I chant hymns to the Theotokos, what I notice first is that they are primarily Christological affirmations that assert the deity of Jesus Christ. The whole reason we call Mary the Theotokos was a refutation of Arianism. The human Son in her womb is also fully God. So we call her the Temple, the Holy of Holies, and the Ark of the Covenant for this reason: to proclaim that the One who she bore in her womb is none other than the Shekinah Glory of God, the Living Torah, the Living Manna, the budding Staff of Aaron. As Christological affirmations that simultaneously fulfill the angelic call to bless the Virgin, I enjoy singing them.

 

That said, when I first chanted hymns to Mary from the hymnal we call the Octoechos, I found some of them jarring as they called on her to "save us." We have one Savior ... and so does Mary. The Virgin bore her own Savior. But I habitually think of salvation exclusively in its capital S soteriological sense. But again, there's a language issue. If we can just comprehend how God employs many servant-ministers to help us, to rescue us, to 'save' us when we are in dire straights, then we don't need to become confused or offended when we ask for Mary's help. To ask for her help or your help IS to ask for God's help embodied in his willing helpers.

 

I was once on the verge of drowning and called out to my friend Bob Ekblad to stretch out his hand to save me. Oddly, God did not seem to feel slighted, nor did Bob rebuff me for heresy. In fact, God actually seemed to empower Bob to save me. "Prayers" (requests) for the Theotokos to "save (help) us" are nothing more (and nothing less) than spiritual 9-1-1 calls to our loving mother. I've had a lifetime of making regular calls to my earthly mom, Irene Jersak, invoking her prayers and her help. Likewise, I'm grateful for a heavenly mom whom God dispatches on request. 

 

Still, on occasion, I read an odd hymn that is simply over the top. To read some of these hymns (very few) literally does seem idolatrous to me. To be generous, I could just read it as the poetic excess of an overzealous, adoring child of Mary. I've noticed that some such hymns are (1) clearly not as ancient, (2) smack of Mariolatry, (3) or obviously and inappropriately hyperbolic. I shake my head and move on, just as I move on in Protestant worship services when the songs spout heresies of God's wrath being poured out on Jesus or the Father having to turn his head away. Sometimes hymnographers screw up. It happens.    

 

Puzzle Piece 4 - Experiencing Mary

 

I had a great chat with Fr. Michael Gillis (a wise Antiochian archpriest) when I was first asking the same questions. His advice was something like this: don't give too much energy worrying about Mary until you experience her. When it's time, God may grant you a spiritual experience that involves her, makes sense to you and clears the path for the rest of these questions. In other words, the topic of Mary shifts once you meet her. Happily, in my case, prior to my move to Orthodoxy, I had already encountered her in the context of an inner healing moment. It's a long story but the punchline is that "little Bradley" (a child part of me) was feeling lost and scared. As fixed my eyes fixed on his voice, I felt him putting me in his mom's arms. I felt her holding me close and I felt her intense motherly love pour an indescribable balm of solace into my soul. The Beatles' "Let It Be" and the Catholic Rosary Prayer flooded through my mind:

 

"Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. [Yes, Jesus is with her, and therefore with me].
Blessed art thou amongst women, [As we read in Luke's Gospel]
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. [Because he is the point]
Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners, [Inviting her intercession]
Now and at the hour of our death. Amen." [As every 'letting go' is a tiny death].

 

And I so I came to understand Jesus welcome my invocations to Mary by experience.

But I also knew to continue holding my focus on Jesus' face, even while six-year-old Bradley relaxed back into Mama's healing arms. 

 

All that to say, don't worry about it. Keep your focus on Christ just as Mary does. Pope John Paul II's corrective to Catholic Maryolatry was simple: When you come to the Throne of the Grace, set your gaze on Jesus Christ. Don't be surprised if you see her at his throne, too. But if you see her, don't be distracted. Rather, let her disciple you by emulating her unwavering gaze on the Son of God.

 

And if he wants to give her to you personally--to say, "Behold, your mother,"just as when he gave her to John the Beloved--he'll get to it at just the right time for you.

 

But I will repeat this reminder and clarify: the impulse or longing in our heart for Mother God is holy. I experienced it when reading Paul Young's The Shack. To experience the Mother heart of God is a divine gift. Receive it! But also, understand how for the 'Mother

Church Tradition,' the Mother heart of God is most often experienced through the divinized empathy and affection of Jesus' own precious mom, whom he so generously shared with us from his Cross.

Consent & Participation in Democracy & Theology - Brad Jersak

“Let the Process Play Out”?

In a recent podcast from the pollsters at FiveThirtyEight.com, Galen Druke asked Clare Malone (the senior politics writer) about the values and dangers of a “Let the process play out” stance on court challenges to the 2020 American election. Her response was telling:

“What Divided the Electorate in 2020,” Fivethirtyeight.com (11-16-2020)

Galen Druke: “They’ve said, ‘Let’s let the process play out. President Trump has the right to bring these legal challenges, etc.’ and in some ways giving credibility to these conspiracy theories surrounding voter fraud instead of saying ‘all the secretaries of state said that this an election that has been conducted with integrity, a secure election, etc.’ Are there any long-term problems for small-d democracy in the broader Republican apparatus not forcefully rebutting this?”   

Clare Malone

Clare Malone: “For sure. Even though we all know to read through the lines that ‘he should get security briefings’ means ‘we think he won the election,’ there’s a big difference between saying that and saying, ‘He won the election; let’s move on.’” It’s not a healthy sign, it’s not a good thing. This is not me saying American democracy is over, but it is me saying, “In order to stay healthy, you eat well and exercise.” This is people, like, smashing hamburgers and shooting heroin into their veins.”

Later in the podcast, Clare Malone goes on to describe the essential problem as the necessity of consent in a democratic social contract, which I’ll restate and expand on here:

Consent & Participation: Essential to Democracy  

Political Science Fact: Consent is an essential pillar of small-d democracy. Refusal of candidates to concede an election is not merely an exercise in bad sportsmanship. It breaks a central feature of the social contract—rule by consent. Yes, we must do everything possible to ensure fair and legal elections. But opting to battle election results in court, based on unfounded claims of voter fraud, is not consent. Even when the losing party loses the election a second time in court, the ‘consent fundamental’ has still been effectively removed and democracy is crippled. Without consent, elections become just another form of coercion and there’s nothing exceptional about that.

Further, without consent, the outcomes of the election move from the electorate to the courts. In the worst case, the courts may overrule the will (participation) of the people. And even in the best case, the decision to confirm or veto the will of the electorate is still relocated to the judiciary. Participation of the people is subordinated to decisions by the gavel. Surely that is not what the founders imagined.  

One American commentator said to me, “We’ve reached the point where more than half of Republicans are just about ready to say it out loud: ‘We don’t give a damn about democracy.” That’s to be expected when one’s primary aim and political platform is reduced to securing power (by admission). At the very least, it’s a revisioning of democracy without consent, a phenomenon in other nations that Americans have historically called out, as in Russia and Iran for instance.

Please note carefully: democracy in America does not turn on whether Biden or Trump ‘won.’ What matters here is whether whoever loses (Trump, in this case) is willing to play their role to maintain democratic consent by willingly conceding. We see in retrospect why it was so important for Al Gore to concede to George Bush despite the kafuffle around Florida recounts in 2000. Gore’s concession meant that Bush’s presidency and American democracy were ultimately consensual. That didn’t happen this time.¹ And now it can’t—because even if President Trump concedes after losing in court, it’s no longer conceding by consent. It’s a downgrade for sure—so obvious to the rest of the world—but if that’s the future she chooses, we’ll have to accept and adapt to America’s new political reality. We’ll be okay.

Consent & Participation: Essential to Theology

Sadly, a (the?) dominant force in the erosion of democracy in the U.S.A. has come via the efforts of American(ized) Christianity to marry politics with faith. I think FiveThirtyEight saw this but what follows are my own conclusions.

 

Paula White

Yes, please, let your faith guide your political choices with integrity and truth. But when the President’s ‘spiritual advisor’ prophesies that God told her angels have been dispatched from Africa and South America to change election results—that victory has already been secured in the heavenlies—we’ve entered Christian voodoo territory. It’s a partisan political appeal to divine sovereignty sans the crucial (literally) doctrine of divine consent, and therefore a critical crack in Christianity’s theological foundations.  

 

How do consent and participation figure into Christian theology or our political theology? Simone Weil and George Grant (both political philosophers) saw the Cross as a revelation of divine consent and participation:

• The Cross reminds us of God’s consent in creation, making kenotic space for authentic otherness. Creation itself is a manifestation of “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.”

• Thus, God consents to the reality of secondary causes, including natural law and human freedom, without direct interference in the shadow sides of tragedy and evil … or elections.

• At the Cross God even consents to our defiance as we reject and crucify Jesus Christ (or truth and justice) even while harnessing the great crime of deicide for our redemption.

• At the Cross (and really, beginning with Gethsemane), we see Christ consent to the will of his Father in drinking the cup of affliction for our sake, bearing the worst of human history in himself (to become the Lord of history).

• At the Cross, we come to the end of ourselves, fall to our knees and consent to the healing grace that flows from the wounds of Christ.

• The Cross reveals God as far different from that of the Deists who penned the Constitution. This is the crucified God who fully participates in the human condition, undergoing our limitations, our injustice, and even our death.

• The Cross reveals the path of redemption that calls not only for our consent but also our full participation in his project (‘the kingdom of God’)—God’s rule and reign by love (i.e. consent and participation) rather than by coercion.

In the end, it’s no surprise that when a nation-state becomes a global empire, we would inevitably see slippage away from democracy by consent and participation into partisan will-to-power. It may be disappointing, but apart from historical amnesia, not unexpected. But for Christianity itself to stray from the cruciform theology of consent and participation into theocratic delusions is simply tragic—and as I’ve said elsewhere, attaching Jesus' name to such ambitions is blasphemous.

It may be odd, then, to hear a word of hope. But those willing to acknowledge and abandon the lose-lose cul-de-sacs into which our culture has wandered may still find an exit. Alternative paths may present themselves, but they will look nothing like the powerplays of spectrum ideology or bastardized faith. Personally, I’m watching for cues from those on the margins who embody the Beatitudes of Jesus. Here’s hoping.   

NOTES:

[1] Barry Richard—George Bush’s top Florida lawyer in the case that went to the Supreme Court—denies any claims that the current barrage of 30+ lawsuits in 6 different states are in any way similar to 2000. https://www.nbcmiami.com/news/politics/decision-2020/bush-v-gore-lawyers-2020-court-fight-is-not-similar-to-2000/2326866/.

Our Refiner's Fire - my foreword to Steve Stewart's "The Beatitudes for a Time of Crisis" - by Brad Jersak

“The Divine Life”

My full immersion into the Beatitudes as a daily practice began on the hiking trails of the North Cascades, where my mentor Ron Dart led me “up on a mountain,
me down, opened his mouth and taught me, saying” (Matt. 5:1-2),

The Divine Life is for those who die to the demands of the ego. Such people will inhabit the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Divine Life is for those who have lived through tragedy and suffering. Such people will be comforted at a deep level.

The Divine Life is for those who bring their passions under
control for goodness. It is such people that will inherit the earth.

The Divine Life is for those who hunger and thirst for justice. Such people will be fed to the full.

The Divine Life is offered to those who are gracious and merciful. Such people will be treated in a merciful and gracious manner.

The Divine Life is offered to those whose Home is clean on the Inside. Such people will know the very presence of God and see His face.

The Divine Life is offered to those who are Makers and Creators of Peace. Such people will be called the children of God.

The Divine Life is known by those who are persecuted for
seeking Justice. Such people will know what it means to live in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Divine Life is known by those who are mistreated and
misunderstood in their passion for justice. They will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. The prophets were treated this way in the past.

—Matthew 5:3-12

Ron’s translation of the Beatitudes gripped me from the start. I saw in Christ’s ‘words-made-fresh’ how the death and resurrection of Christ were transposed into the daily life of Christian discipleship. The ‘blessedness’ (Gk. makarios) Jesus describes is itself an ascent (by descent) into the ‘divine life’ (theosis) found on the Way of the Cross (kenosis). The irony of the Beatitudes (and the whole Sermon on the Mount) is that we become most human through self-emptying meekness that actually bankrupts the ego.

Christ overturns every grandiose notion of greatness—divine or human—revealing that the Jesus Way into God’s kingdom is a path marked by humility, meekness and peace. It is the counterintuitive Way for those whom the apostle Peter calls “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4). A bold statement to be sure—a privilege afforded all those responding to the Lord’s “Follow me.”

The Refiner’s Fire

So it was that I began to pray the Beatitudes daily, inhaling and exhaling alternating lines, modulating between the cruciform blessings and the resurrection outcomes intrinsic to each Beatitude. Over years, my prayer was that in God’s mercy, the repetition would internalize Jesus’ words—driving them deeper than mere behavior modification, finding their way into my character, and bringing about the transformation (lit. transfiguration) Paul describes in 2 Cor. 3:18.

Whatever self-awareness I do have tells me I’ve barely begun that ascent. But what I have noticed is that the Beatitudes sharpen anyone’s discernment if they’re willing to let Christ install these verses in their hearts. Here’s what I mean:

The Psalmist says that the word of the Lord is pure, like silver refined in the furnace seven times (Ps. 12:6). Can you imagine having that level of discernment? What if every alleged ‘word from God’ you heard, whether directly or through the mouth of God’s self-proclaimed spokespersons, were to pass through the Refiner’s fire (Mal. 3:3) seven times? What if that fiery furnace were so hot that no false word could survive its purifying flames?

I believe these Beatitudes comprise that furnace to the n^th-degree. By praying them in the Spirit over and over until they become a sort of spiritual respiration within you, I believe the Lord will install these words as an oven in your soul that devours all that cannot pass as God’s word.

I mentioned grandiosity earlier. I can honestly say that most of the prophetic words I received during the charismatic renewal appealed to my fleshly cravings to achieve greatness—and with God’s rubber stamp of approval. My ego loved to hear God say, “Ask me and I will give you the nations as your inheritance” (forgetting that Ps. 2:8 prophesies the kingship of Christ!). I just knew it was my time for a fresh passport to spiritual fame! Meanwhile, I still haven’t perfected the art of kindness to everyone on my own cul-de-sac.

But what if we were to pass my anticipation of glory through the Beatitudes? Blessed are the poor in spirit (sparks ignite and smoke begins to rise). Blessed are those who mourn (crackle, sizzle). Blessed are the meek (phht! Up in smoke!). And without further ado, I am humbled and maybe just a touch more Christlike. Far better that than climbing my own pedestal for impending humiliation (speaking from experience).

So I am very grateful for the little death of self-centeredness and the resurrection life of Jesus in each Beatitude. And I’m glad for this little furnace of discernment that our Lord provided each of his disciples—a shield of protection from self-deceit and delusion.

Steve Stewart & Impact Nations

That said, doesn’t “Impact Nations” sound a little ambitious? It would if Steve’s Stewart’s growing army of world-servants were hoping to make their mark for themselves and in their own way. Instead, what I see is a company of cruciform disciples who’ve given themselves to self-giving love. The Holy Spirit genius of their mission derives from the tears they weep, their hunger and thirst for justice (dikiosune), and their deep commitment to mercy. They are peacemakers who can rightly be called ‘children of God,’ not because they said the right prayer, believed the right creed, or made the right claim. These are ‘children by imitation’ of the Father who is risky in his generosity and indiscriminate in his kindness.

I say this for hermeneutical reasons: First, if you want to understand the Beatitudes, I commend to you the lives of the Stewart clan and their rowdy entourage. And if you want to understand what makes Steve Stewart and company tick, dive into the life of the Beatitudes. But now I pass the baton for that journey to my dear friend, Steve. He’s a good guide up the mountain because his eyes are ever watching the footsteps of our Rabbi. 

 

Let's Stop the Political Blasphemy - Brad Jersak

Election(s) 2020: Four Convictions Upon Reflection
(with a P.S. interview from Brian Zahnd)

I. Vote your conscience.

I did in our recent election. Most people do. That's also a good invitation to reexamine the health of your conscience. Ask honestly where your vote ignored, offended, or violated your conscience. If your conscience comes to complete peace with ANY party's political platform across the board, then it has lost its capacity to discern or distinguish the gospel of the kingdom from the kingdoms of this world. Our politics have effectively disabled the God-given Nathan within. That should alarm us. It signals a call to repent and return, to fast from political idolatry until your baptismal allegiance to the "kingdom not of, like or from this world" is renewed and unconfused.

II. Be loyal to truth.

When we are so invested in our team that we blindly grasp at party propaganda without fact-checking, the fundamental Christian commitment to upholding truth (and therefore justice) is compromised. The second fateful step—wilfully perpetuating misinformation in the pursuit of power ("winning" or sulking if we don't)—is not merely a foray into character assassination. It is an act of moral self-harm. Character suicide. Once we make the third move—confronted with the truth, we respond, "I don't care"—we're now officially lost. What is the supposed "win" when someone displays a manifest desire to be duped? At that point, the pursuit of truth is over and enforcing healthy boundaries is likely the best we can hope to achieve.

III. Let your principles shape your politics.

The previous two points apply to every person, in any party, from any political system, in any nation. They ought to apply especially to Christian believers who risk their souls by entering a voting booth or posting to social media. But the dominance of dubious content and the hateful tone that has climaxed in a cold civil war south of my border has exposed the disease—the idolatry—of partisan amoralism and spectrum ideology that I addressed in A More Christlike Way. 

I rightly worry about the marriage of deep moral convictions and political bias in our attempt to persuade. But to ask, "How can you vote for them when they [insert your greatest moral outrage here]?!" is not out of bounds. Our moral and ethical principles should never be overlooked when wading into the political arena. Indeed, that's half the problem I've addressed in my previous points. It's critical that we know our sense of right from wrong and let that inform our politics and shape how we seek to persuade.               

IV. Let's stop the prophetic blasphemy.

“Any attempt to use the Spirit to leverage political power is blasphemous.” 
—C.E.W. Green

Okay, we get carried away, we get passionate, we slip. It happens. But for Christ's sake (literally), could we at least demand that our 'Christian leaders' cease with the political blasphemy? I am not speaking here metaphorically. Any of us might be guilty of abandoning Christ just by voting. That's not it. No, we have to say this directly and specifically: those who call themselves 'God's prophets' (literally) and then direct their flock to vote for a particular man or party because God says so (literally) are false prophets (literally).

I have watched our broader political idolatry escalate dramatically to overt blasphemy over the course of the last 20 years in certain (not all) wings of the evangelical-charismatic world that was my home.     

Please hear me: men and women of good faith who I love and trust wrestled and reasoned their way to cast their vote for President Donald Trump. Some described it to me as plugging their nose and voting strategically for a conservative Supreme Court. Others were enthusiastic about America's retreat from the world stage. They applauded the death knell of American exceptionalism on his watch. In any case, that is NOT what I'm talking about here.

I am specifically condemning what liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, have fairly called "the cult of Trumpism."¹ It can be defined as abusing the name of Jesus Christ and declaring falsehoods "by the Spirit" to establish Donald Trump as "God's candidate," without regard for truth, facts or observable outcomes. Three examples: 

• Identifying the President as or with the Saviour.
• Declaring a false victory via divine and angelic intervention.
• Demonizing the opposition as cursed opponents of God's will.  

Am I overstating the case? Perhaps you saw these viral debacles?
First, from Paula White, "spiritual advisor to the President":  

 

Or the MAGA prayer warriors on their knees, interceding at the Clark County election offices:

 

I can't in good conscience post the examples I think were far less tasteful. The boiling point here is not who we think should ascend the imperial throne. What I'm addressing is not a partisan political problem at all. This crisis concerns the reverse transfiguration of prominent Christian streams (who think they have the President's ear) into a dangerous sect. Dangerous to democracy, if that matters. Discrediting to Christian conservatives, certainly. But fatal to faith, and that does matter.  

So, yes, please: vote your conscience, be loyal to the truth, let your principles shape your politics. But for the love of Christ, most of all, let's say an emphatic no to political blasphemy and invite estranged and disillusioned friends of Christ back to the Altar. 

P.S. Postcards from Babylon

But it's not as though this took us by surprise. After posting his Feb. 14, 2017 article, "Cyrus Candidate or Charismatic Catastrophe," Brian Zahnd felt compelled to write his warning/rejoinder to politically compromised faith (of any brand) in his book (and forthcoming documentary) Postcards from Babylon. 

The following interview with Brian covers many of the book's themes. It may leave a better aftertaste than the bitter pill I've offered. If we're seeking our national prophets for Christlike clarity, BZ is a far better candidate::

Notes:

1. Cf. among the dozens of articles (and one edited book by 20 psychiatrists), Andrew Sullivan, "With Trump, the Pathology is the Point," The Intelligencer, 05-22-20; Joe Jobanaski, "The Cult of Trumpism," The Recorder 8-7-20; Ali Breland, "Cult Experts Warn the Trumpism Is Starting to Look Awfully Familiar," MotherJones.com 04-04-20; Sean Illing, "Is Trumpism a Cult?" Vox 01-26-20; Bandy Lee (ed.),The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump (Thomas Dunne, 2017).  

"We Are All Revenants" - Bradley Jersak

 

Out of chaos, Good News today: the great gift of the Jesus Way is not so much the Church’s ability to survive its own self-inflicted death. Rather, we marvel at how it can continually die and rise again.

In the midst of the storm, Hope today: even in the great darkness of the Church’s imperial aspirations and its corrosive choices to become the idolatrous escort of state power—even after the deep disillusionment of the Great Deconstruction—inexplicably, a Light shines. A Voice from elsewhere speak. A gift of faith that defies reason persists.

Watch for it. Wait for it.

I am reminded of G.K. Chesterton’s prescient words a century ago, describing the Church, not as an all-powerful institution, but as an alternative society that rises Phoenix-like from its own ashes, because against our better judgment, Christ has never abandoned or divorced her:

"What is this incomparable energy which appears first in one walking the earth like a living judgment and this energy which can die with a dying civilization and yet force it to a resurrection from the dead…?”

“There is an answer: it is an answer to say that the energy is truly from outside the world…”

“All other societies die finally and with dignity. We die daily. We are always being born again with almost indecent obstetrics. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that there is in historic Christendom a sort of unnatural life: it could be explained as a supernatural life. It could be explained as an awful galvanic life working in what would have been a corpse. For our civilization ought to have died, by all parallels, by all sociological probability, in the Ragnorak of the end of Rome. That is the weird inspiration of our estate: you and I have no business to be here at all. We are all revenants; all living Christians are dead pagans walking about.” ― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

So, once again, what we called ‘Church’ has, once again, largely imploded—its hypocrisy laid bare, its motives exposed, a victim of the Kool-Aid it served and drank in exchange for the true Vine. Those who fled the sinking ship frequently forget their complicity and continue to imbibe in the same contempt they condemned in their Mother. Selective amnesia, perhaps. The disillusioned may have emerged from a religious nightmare but can’t perceive they’re still twitching through the dream paralysis of ideological possession. Woke? Oh no, my dear.

So whence this hope? Just watch. Just wait…  

“Christendom has had a series of revolutions and in each one of them, Christianity has died. Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.” ― G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man

Memoricide: Conservative & Progressive Amnesia - Ron Dart (with Brad Jersak)

Unwrathing God: Nonviolent Atonement, Eschatology & Practice - Bradley Jersak

Restorative Justice: Peacemaking, NOT War-making - Wayne Northey (interview host: Brad Jersak)

IRPJ.org (Institute for Religion, Peace & Justice) presents an interview with Wayne Northey (host: Brad Jersak) highlighting the contrast between Western criminal justice as retributive pain-delivery and the inclusive, restorative, community justice that more effectively serves offenders, those they've harmed and the communities in which they live.

Transcript: Download IRPJ Q&A with Wayne Northey

Jersak & Young's, "The Pastor: A Crisis" - review by Becky Parker

The Pastor: A Crisis - Review by Becky Parker

Before I began this book, I knew I’d be uncomfortable with some of the material. I’d heard an interview in which the authors confirmed that the topic of child sexual abuse was discussed.

Since I am not a victim of sexual assault, I was not afraid of triggering in that regard. I knew that my discomfort would be the deep fear such a topic invokes in me especially as a mother. Even the thought that such abuse could happen to me or one of my children causes me to experience fear and anxiety.

As I read, a realization came to me that I didn’t like to admit. It was not just my fear for my loved ones that made me uncomfortable. It was that my fear and anxiety took a dark turn and produced a mix of condemnation, vengeance, and self-righteousness. This book forced me to take on all these dark expressions of my own fear and anxiety.

The story reveals the devastating damage caused by sexual violence and how not even a perpetrator is exempt. My heart was stirred to compassion for one that I would normally have been quick to condemn to the harshest penalty and just as quickly to elevate myself as one much superior.

The story forced me to look into my own heart to scrutinize and ask the questions: Who do I struggle to love? Can I see the image of God in all people? Do I wish to be the judge of others? How does a desire for vengeance and retribution keep me from being free? Am I glad when I see others forgiven? Do I trust that I am loved and forgiven? Perhaps the most telling: Do I truly wish to see everyone redeemed?

This story was a refining fire for me. I was confronted with one of my worst fears and one of my most steadfast scapegoats, and I realized those two were related and needed confronting in my life. As I know the Lord does not wish any to perish, but all to come to repentance, I know also that as I am made in His image, I should feel the same. If I do not, something is going on within me that should be confronted. Strangely, that is not a burdensome feeling, but freeing.

As “The Pastor” discusses in depth the pain, trauma, and despair that results from sexual abuse, it also moves toward hope. It was this feeling of hope that impressed me throughout the story. Hope of forgiveness, mercy, and healing. It is also a powerful story of surrender and the need for self-forgiveness, and the alternative of self-destructive coping mechanisms that we cling to.

“The Pastor” resonates with all of us. Those who have suffered abuse in its many forms, those grappling with a disheartened view of religion, and all of us who, at some time, have struggled with offering forgiveness or accepting love.

The Pastor: My Gift to Little Bradley (vulnerability triggers) - Brad Jersak

I was seven-years-old and in love. To my shame, I've forgotten her name, but my second-grade teacher left a deep impression on me. Nothing sexual at that point, but certainly a longing for her affection. She was young and beautiful and a child of the sixties, complete with rock star boyfriend, brightly patterned mini-skirts and all things "Age of Aquarius." She "punished" disruptive male students by making them sit on her knee but somehow my strategies to that end ever only landed me in the corner. 

I chose to channel my unrequited love into my first work of fiction. My beloved handed out two sheets of fullscap along with a sticker. The assignment was to write a short story on the subject of the sticker--mine was a tiger. I dove deeply into the process, my first effort at creative story-telling and a true labour of love. I remember the room and the desk where I wrote the tale of "Tiger the tiger" and I recall my parents peaking through the doorway, proudly witnessing the artist at work.

I remember the day I strode to Voyageur Elementary School to deliver my handiwork. I remember how cold that Winnipeg winter morning was. I remember my excitement and how proud I felt of the finished product. So proud, in fact, that before entering the school, I attempted a preliminary act of daring. I would tight rope walk along the top rail of the iron boot-scraper. I recall mounting, catching my balance, extending my arms and stepping forward. Alas, the ice! I slipped badly, stradling the bar and landing full-force on my young testicles! Oh, the excruciating pain! The traumatic embarrassment! The waves of nausea!

I gathered the remaining crumbs of my dignity, my shattered pride and my scattered notebooks. Gratefully, few seemed to have noticed the bruised fruit of my arrogance. I limped feebly into the school and down the hall to Ms.____'s homeroom. I reached into my parka pocket to retrieve my Tiger story--and found it was empty. Panicked, I returned to the scene of my accident and scoured the snow for the lost parchment. Nada. Gonzo. And an emotional hole opened in the pit of my stomach. All was lost. 

I had neither the time, energy or heart for a rewrite. My parents and teacher conferred, confirming completion and forgiving the missing assignment. But that didn't heal the wound. I made a vow to myself that day--my promise to Little Bradley. One day, I will complete the work. It won't be about the Tiger and it won't be for my teacher. It will be a gift to that broken-hearted child with the bruised nuts.

I am now 56-years-old. After nearly five decades, through the guidance and generosity of my dear friend and co-author, Paul Young, I have kept my promise. I've finally delivered my first work of fictional truth-telling, miscarried on the icy iron rail in February 1972. The Pastor: A Crisis is my gift to Little Bradley. Even the novel's dedication ("For Jacki") is to one of Little Bradley's very best friends.

Paul and I pray that by reading The Pastor: A Crisis, others like me would experience the healing of bruised and wounded child parts that we recount in its pages. "Trust the ripples," Paul says. I do. I really do.                 

Imbach's Wager - Brad Jersak with Stephen Imbach

PASCAL’S WAGER

Pascal was a genius mathematician and a brilliant philosopher/theologian. He is known in popular apologetics for what we call “Pascal’s Wager.” For a very precise discussion, I would refer readers to this article in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. A simplistic summary of the wager might say:   

It is in our best interest to believe in God because if God does exist, the benefits are infinite—and even if God does not exist, our mistaken belief does no harm. But if any possibility exists that not believing leads to eternal punishment, the risk of unbelief far outweighs any of its advantages. I.e. Pascal’s Wager is that your best bet (most rational and most pragmatic) is on faith God, even if we cannot prove his existence.

Since the time of Pascal conceived of his wager in his classic tome, Pensées, numerous counter-arguments have developed. While I could present my own critical analysis, that’s not my point. I only mention it to present an alternative wager that goes “all in” on faith in the goodness of God and represents the real-life leap of my spiritual director, Stephen Imbach.

IMBACH’S WAGER   

Stephen Imbach was raised by God-fearing parents in a fundamentalist Christian environment where he internalized a shame-based conservative gospel. He eventually bottomed out in the presence of his spiritual director, who saw the torment Stephen endured by clinging to that old system of fear, condemnation and moralism. The spiritual director suggested a risky proposition: denounce God as you have come to conceive God.

Denounce is a strong word. It means to formally declare that we are abandoning something—in this case, every conception Steve ever assumed or adopted concerning the “faith of his fathers.” Stephen tells me that after pondering this challenge, he embarked on what I’m calling “Imbach’s Wager.” He said to God,

I am letting go of everything I have ever learned about God. God, if you want, you now have a chance to work and you can come to me however you want to.

That was it. He was not calculating the odds of reward or punishment based in rationalist or pragmatic faith. He had already found transactional, performance-based religiosity bankrupt. There was nothing left to lose. He would simply pin all his hopes on the possibility that God is good.

That’s Imbach’s Wager: with nothing left to lose, what if we let go and found out that God is good—good enough to come find us.     

GENUINE PEACE

I asked Stephen how God came to him. It isn’t the same for everyone. Even though the Christian community might have judged him as a backslider and equated restoration with returning to the fold, God had his own path for Stephen. How did God come to him? In Stephen’s words,

A genuine peace came over me. Peace that everything is going to be okay. That God was saying, “I am not letting you go” and peace because, “Finally, you are being honest with me.”

When you let God come to you, it will be in a way that is most significant to you. I needed God to come in peace because my life is generally inner turmoil.

The peace that came I could not find for myself. It was peace with my own sense of self and peace that I’m really okay with and before God. And so eventually, I let him find me.  

I wonder: for those who have undergone some measure of deconstruction, rather than clinging by a final fingernail to a faith that requires clinging to, what if we took the huge risk of letting go (so different than walking away) and said, “I will not manufacture pseudo-belief for even one more step. But I will consent to watching for and welcoming Divine Love’s approach, wherever and however She chooses." I wonder. No, I might even bet on that.  

The Bruderhof - "Another Life is Possible" - Review & Reflections by Brad & Eden Jersak

Another Life is Possible – Insights from 100 years of Life Together

Another Life is Possible (Plough, 2020) arrived on our doorstep not long ago. Eden picked up the package and felt its physical weight, but we no idea how its physical size would be outweighed by the contents within the book’s covers. In this reflection, both Brad and Eden will respond. Eden first:

Another Life is Possible is possibly the most stunning book I (Eden) have ever worked through.

I (Eden) grew up in a Mennonite community (though not living “IN” community), and I feel a strong affinity to the Bruderhof. I resonate with the spirit of peace and pacifism, and the desire to work together to make change, instead of being lone agents. Having family close, eating together, working hard and sharing a purpose all tick the imaginary boxes in my heart.

All the technical components come together in this book. The pictures are breathtaking, capturing not only the form of each subject, but the very essence of them. The history and timeline of this community are laid out in a very clear and understandable way. The personal reflections allow you to enter into individual stories, their history, passions, paths to the Bruderhof and more. It is very nearly like being invited into each of their homes, or at the very least sitting across the table from them with a cuppa in hand.

Imagine if you could live your life at the intersection of your calling and vocation, and not have to feel the constant tension our culture generates to go in one direction after another to prove yourself. It is entirely possible to know your neighbours, to live your life in an environment where peace is a priority, and there are no “Jones” to keep up with.

The community has found a way to separate themselves from the “world,” while entering right back into it as agents of change, bringing practical hope, life and love to those who are vulnerable to being lost in the cracks of our society.

What is most moving to me (Eden) is the seamless way the gifts, callings, and ministries dovetail together.

This tribute to 100 years of The Bruderhof is a fantastically beautiful volume of photos, stories and glimpses into a life that this community has toiled to create. Their stories are authentic, relatable and help to demonstrate that another way is not only possible but the potential to thrive is plausible!

The Pastor & the President – Reflections on the Implosion - Brad Jersak

The Pastor: A Crisis

Paul Young and I have just released our novella, The Pastor: A Crisis (Capella Books 2020). The story features the dramatic meltdown of a fundamentalist pastor whose ministry of condemnation and moralism turns out to be a mask for his own deep wounds and their shameful consequences. Forced to face his ‘demons,’ the question is whether this tragic figure can yet find redemption.

When asked if the central figure represents Paul or I, the answer is No. The Pastor is actually a fictional composite that reflects real situations we’ve encountered, but we can certainly both relate to the damage done by religious abuse, harms we’ve experienced and the hurt we caused others in our own unique brokenness. And really, doesn’t that describe the human condition? In the great cosmic bus crash, we were all on board—it’s just that some folks (like me) found themselves in more privileged seats as others went through the proverbial windshield face-first.  

Back to our story: egoism and self-will love to flow through religiosity, inevitably expressed in the oppression of others. Of course, that’s contemptible. What’s less obvious in the headlines is how perpetrators may be projecting and paying forward their own traumatic backstory at others’ expense. That doesn’t make it okay, but neither does ignoring that reality solve the problem. Cycles of abuse aren’t arrested through retribution—true justice that restores lives and societies only comes via the hard work of pursuing restorative paths for everyone involved.    

The President: An Implosion

By unhappy coincidence, The Pastor is being released the same week as Jerry Falwell Jr.’s scandalous implosion splashed its way across the front pages of every news outlet in America. The parallels to our story are significant – fundamentalist religion, moral hypocrisy, sexual deviance—the juicy stuff that feeds our craving for karmic blowback. The sad truth is that while you can make this stuff up, it’s a gut-punch when fiction is revealed as truth. But what is the truth? What are we meant to see through the swirling haze of another tabloid-worthy scandal? Here are a few takeaway reflections viewed through my study of the Gospels, my experience as a pastoral burnout and as co-creator of The Pastor.

1. “Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again” (Matthew 7:1-2 KJV).

Jesus’ ominous warning (doubly so in ye olde English) should have been sufficient to humble his followers for all time. We should note that he is not issuing a divine threat so much as describing the nature of reality and the structure of society. In other words, I don’t read these verses as Christ’s intention—as in, “I’m going to pay you back in kind, you rotters.” He’s already rejected eye-for-an-eye payback earlier in this very sermon.

Rather, I hear Jesus talking about what typically happens in real life to those who are heavy-handed in their condemnation of others. Those who apply harsh standards inevitably break their own standards and then get judged by those same standards, whether by the culture or their conscience.

In the world we live in, the same activities Falwell is being condemned and cancelled for are continually normalized and even glorified on my Netflix menu. So, in our post-monogamous, anything-goes hook-up culture, why should he be singled out for condemnation?

Jesus explains it perfectly—Falwell was not so much judged for his actions but for his judgments and by his judgments, in the same measure as his judgments. That indicates to me that authentic repentance could start with his judgments and hypocrisy, rather than the ways he embarrassed his school or church’s image.

The irony is that our first temptation is to pick up the same stones Mr. Falwell has just dropped and feel justified in our heady new role as his judges. I stand warned by the same words of Christ. Which leads me to my next reflection.   

2. I need to examine my schadenfreude

^3 “And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? ⁴ Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? ⁵ Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.”

Schadenfreude is a German term that literally means “pain-joy.” It is the odd feeling of satisfaction people derive from seeing someone else’s misfortunate—usually someone we hold in contempt. It’s that twinge of pleasure we feel when the proud man falls.

My son Stephen told me about a scientific study that suggested all but two of our emotions are experienced in one region of the brain: the exceptions are envy and schadenfreude. It made us wonder if they are emotions at all—and how the two vices are related.

I found myself instantly face-to-face with schadenfreude at the news of Falwell’s demise. I also knew from hard experience the importance of immediately resisting it. My greatest failings have been consistently treated with empathy and mercy—how dare I play the role of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:21-35). But I also felt it necessary to examine the temptation instead of burying it in denial. Whence comes the schadenfreude? What is it about? What is it up to?

I saw how my truest self—“the better angels of my nature” or my true self-in-Christ—instinctively prayed, “Lord, grant Mr. Falwell the same mercy I’ve received.” After all, I can’t expect to live in the land of grace while consigning him to the land of the law. I can’t expect God to correct me with a feather while demanding the hammer drop for the other.

Simply and selfishly put, “Release him with the kindness I want for myself.” Or in a more Christlike vein, “Father, forgive him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” But Brad, his sins were not in ignorance. They were deliberate. Deliberate yes, as are mine, but do we truly know what we do? We rarely understand the breadth of shrapnel and depth of damage we inflict when we entitle ourselves to transgress others and imagine we’re getting away with something. And no, that doesn’t disqualify us from forgiveness or exempt us from forgiving. But I won’t impose forgiveness on others who must live with pain they continue to endure. I’m only examining my own beam here.

I wonder too if schadenfreude is the shadow side of something right gone wrong. Is the satisfaction somehow also related to the exposure and expulsion of something we already intuited as rotten? When we know fundy-guilt-alism is a toxic counterfeit of authentic faith that has sabotaged millions of ex-vangelicals, we feel in our bones a certain rightness when the curtain is pulled back and the fraud is revealed.

The Psalmist, inspired by the Spirit, invokes curses against such men, even beseeching God,

¹² Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children… ¹⁵ Let them be before the Lord continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.

Are these verses a revelation of God’s heart? Christ rejects cursing our enemies when he calls for blessing and prayers for them. Maybe the true inspiration here is that in God’s presence, David’s schadenfreude is honestly expressed so it can be thoroughly expunged, and all malice neutralized. Nevertheless, we are grateful when deception is finally seen for what it is and comes to a terminus.

3. “Moral outrage is a form of confession.” –Archbishop Lazar Puhalo

Finally, for a seasoned confessor like the monk Lazar Puhalo, nothing that went down with Mr. Falwell and Liberty University (as a multi-generational fundamentalist system) was a surprise. To Lazar, the moralizing message and ministry of condemnation is the surest sign and symptom of deeper, repressed passions Mr. Falwell was suffering. Those briefly released IG photos and videos were a confession dying to happen—‘dying’ because Falwell’s sloppiness signals the wear and tear of chronic guilt. Beneath the licentious behavior, Lazar saw (years ago) a soul who was suffering the corrosion of his own corruption and who projected his affliction in escalating xenophobia. The secret pain that energized his attacks is now public.

At least that’s how Abp. Lazar would diagnose him from afar (because who in his inner circle is up to it?). I’d call his assessment generous, because he’s seeing past the acting out behavior to the troubled heart of a real person. In confession, Lazar never asks, “What sins have you committed?” He always, always begins, “What is troubling you?” And his agenda is to bring the gospel to the heart of that trouble. That’s the mercy I’ve known throughout my own troubles. I hope that kind of love will penetrate Jerry Falwell Jr.’s heart and extend to all those damaged by the same system he both propped up and that became his cruel millstone.

In that sense, though Paul Young and I wrote the first drafts of The Pastor: A Crisis some years ago, I do see our book directly addressing both the dark shadows of this moment and, Lord willing, shining a healing light into it.

Q&R with Brad Jersak - 2 COVID 7:13? - 2 Chronicles 7 and the Pandemic

Question

I have a question regarding the scripture in 2 Chronicles 7:13,14 “When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people, if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” 

 

So many churches, pastors and leaders are quoting this OT scripture regarding the current pandemic and asking people to pray to have God stop this pandemic, and these are leaders of denominations and movements here in Australia.

 

In my mind, the premise of this interpretation of this text is that God has sent this plague because of our sin and so it is a punishment from God. Wouldn’t it be a more appropriate interpretation to understand this text in light of the author's perspective and mindset of their understanding of what God was like?

 

I would love to hear your thoughts or ask that you would be able to point me in the right direction regarding this particular scripture and how we interpret in light of prayer and this current pandemic.

 

Response

Good and timely question! 

 

I would begin by saying that Christians have no business in this text without reference to Christ and his gospel. That is, we are not welcome to read it as if we were Jews who had never heard of Jesus, his ministry and his teachings. Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, our invitation is to read the OT (Moses, the Prophets and all the Scriptures) as they prefigure Christ. Jesus must be our Rabbi and Sponsor into 2 Chronicles.

 

Most importantly, it is ultimately Christ alone who reveals the true nature of God, especially on the Cross, showing us that God IS self-giving, radically forgiving, co-suffering love. God-in-Christ also shows and tells us how he relates to 'wrath' in ways more nuanced (and still developing) than in the OT writings. The characters, narrators and authors of the OT anticipate and foreshadow Christ but John 1:18 and Hebrews 1:1-3 indicate that only in Christ do we see the fulness of God's nature and ways.

 

All of that informs how Christians came to read the OT. Early Jewish worldviews describe God directly blessing and cursing our virtues and vices by sending health, good weather and abundant crops on the righteous and sending disease, droughts and plagues on the wicked. This kind of direct intervention into secondary causes comes through in the Deuteronomic Covenant (e.g. Deut. 28). The OT prophets were typically and simply 'covenant enforcers.' observing their culture and applying those covenant passages to the situation as the voice of God. 

 

But already within the OT, various authors are challenging that worldview. They understand that it doesn't always work that way. The foolish friends in the book of Job who see the world that way are rebuked for saying things that very much echo those covenants. David loves the law but also asks, "Then why do the wicked prosper? And why are the righteous afflicted?" 

 

By the time you get to Isaiah and Ezekiel (for example), you still have this type of covenant enforcement lingo, but they also begin to distance God from direct wrath. Instead of "if you sin, God will destroy you," you get "if you sin, Babylon will destroy you." Where is God in that? First, his wrath becomes indirect: "He will give you over to your sin" or "He will give you over to Babylon." The idea is that God is not the destroyer. But God warns them that he will consent to their defiance and the consequences that naturally follow. Second, God becomes their co-suffering deliverer from the wrath (which gradually becomes a synonym for Satan). In Romans, Paul will make the same clarification: the wages of sin is death while the free gift of God is life. God is not the death-dealer. In chapter 1, he defines wrath as 'he gave them over' three times. So wrath is now a metaphor for the self-destructive consequences of our own defiance and God in his love both consents to our waywardness and participates in our salvation.

 

And now this brings us to Christ, who gets the last word. Christ has come into a world where people are already perishing (John 3:16-17) with an agenda to save. He IS the image of God in this world. And as God, he addresses the problem of direct wrath (as cited in Chronicles) on two major occasions. 

 

1. John 9 - "Who sinned that this man should be born blind? Him or his parents?" Implication, Sickness, disease and disability are God's punishments for sin. Jesus denies it. Wrong question. Wrong worldview. His response is that when we see sickness, disease and death, we don't know for sure if sin was involved except in the sense that we've all been part of a cosmic bus crash and some people had worse seats. You just can't judge and individual as righteous or wicked, blessed or cursed by God, based on their struggles. Rather, we should see human maladies as an occasion for God's mercy and healing. That's always where Christians must start.

 

2. Luke 13 - Pilate's Temple Massacre and the Fall of the Tower of Siloam: Here we have people dying at the hands of the Romans and in a tragic collapse of a local highrise. Jesus addresses how we should see the victims. Were they any more wicked than the survivors? No. You can't judge that because God was not the death-dealer. In one case, it fell to human wickedness and in the other, it was probably a random tragedy. We cannot infer anything about the victims' standing before God and we cannot attribute these deaths to God. In effect, he says, "Worry about your own hearts. Stop pointing the finger. Everyone is perishing. Turn to God for mercy. Ask God for deliverance." 

 

With that established, how do we read the passage in Chronicles? We understand that a Christological reading prohibits us from a literalist read that adopts a worldview that Christ already redirected into the gospel image of God. And when there is turmoil in the land, we may certainly ask ourselves, did we somehow cause these tragedies, but we cannot venture to assign blame to God or to the victims of tragedy. But where we see injustice at work, we can acknowledge our complicity, turn back to God and watch how the fruit of our lives changes (whether naturally or supernaturally). 

 

Examples: When the twin towers fell, did God send the planes? When hurricane Katrina hit, did God swamp New Orleans? How about this pandemic? Some have said so. Why would he do that? Obviously to punish America. For what? Televangelists suggested various pet sins that they like to rail on. Their proclamations completely ignore the teachings and revelation of Christ. 

 

Yes, we can ask ourselves, have WE done anything to cause these events? Did WE instigate the kind of hate and desperation that leads to terror? Did WE cut corners that led to collapsing sea walls and dikes? Have WE mishandled COVID by neglecting to love our neighbors as we ought? Perhaps we should turn toward God to ask these questions, change our self-defeating practices and look for mercy. But we don't blame God for directly sending death and we don't sort the righteous from the wicked by measuring who was hit hardest and who got off lucky. And then we look at how these events become occasions for grace. 

 

Where is God in this? He's digging through rubble and hard at work in ICU through people who manifest his love and grace in the world. We partner with his ministry of redemption rather than siding with the accuser of the brethren. We become the change we want to see. And in this way, we fulfill a Christocentric reading of the Chronicles passage. 

 

Blessings!

Brad