Category Archives: SCRIPTURE STUDY
SCRIPTURE STUDY: Jesus’s vision quest in Matthew 4
At the end of chapter three of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus (and us as readers) hears the voice of God proclaim, “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.” This proclamation sets the scene for what happens in chapter 4.
Following his encounter at the Jordan with John, Jesus retreats to a place by himself, left to figure out what this means, this proclamation that he is the beloved son of God. In some sense, Jesus’s retreat to the wilderness calls to mind the Native American idea of a “vision quest,” a turning point in one’s life where a young man figures out whom he really is and what that means. So we have Jesus, at the beginning of chapter four, fasting and alone in the desert, possibly unpacking what has just happened in his encounter with John.
The eleven verses that make up the “temptation” passage are rife with Exodus imagery. Jesus being led into the desert where he spends 40 days and 40 nights fasting should recall to us the story of Israel, a people freed from Egypt and led by the spirit into the desert for a time of testing that lasts 40 years. But whereas Jesus’s ancestors spent their time in the desert complaining about there not being enough food or drink (and God answering with manna and flowing water from the rock), fashioning a golden calf and worshipping it instead of God, and so on, Jesus will meet the challenge of his testing. The Israelites are tested and falter time and time again during their 40 years, but Jesus will recapitulate their time in the desert with his 40 days—but he will meet the tests and remain faithful to God.
The devil starts the questioning of Jesus with an interesting conditional phrase: “IF you are the Son of God…” This phrase is attached to the proclamation at the end of chapter 3, connecting the two passages, and hinting to us that the very thing which Jesus was contemplating while in the desert was indeed what happened in the Jordan with John and what does it mean. And the devil has some easy ways for him to unequivocally answer the question of his identity. “IF you are the son of God…” well, then, do this and you’ll know for sure. Right? But Jesus doesn’t take the bait, recalling instead the words from Deuteronomy, words that again recall the manna passage and the Israelites own crying out for God to give them something to eat.
In the second temptation, the devil evokes in Jesus a powerful emotion—fear. He perches Jesus on the top of the temple and again suggests that a way of being sure about his identity is to throw himself off, even quoting scripture (the devil can quote scripture too!) as to how the scenario should unfold. But Jesus resists again, quoting Deuteronomy.
The final temptation offers us some interesting political analysis. The insinuation in verses 8-9 is that the kingdoms of the world belong not to God, but to the devil—they’re his to give. These verses should cause all of us to be skeptical of aligning any kingdom, any political ideology, any economic empire, any nation or state, with the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is not equivalent to any political reality we might find here on earth. And no matter what good we think we might be able to do by wielding the power that comes along with positions of status and influence within such systems, we would do well to remember Jesus’ refusal to make any deals with the devil to be the master of such power (again by quoting Deuteronomy).
Whereas the Israelites time of testing and preparation as the chosen people of God was a series of failures and mistakes, Jesus realizes his identity as God’s chosen son by meeting each challenge and remaining faithful.
SCRIPTURE STUDY: We interrupt “Silent Night, Holy Night” with an emergency alert – DANGER!
(For our study last week, we looked at Matthew 2:1-23. This week, we’ll do a quick overview of chapter 3 and look closely at chapter 4:1-11. Feel free to join us at noon to 1pm on Monday at the house.)
Our visions of Christ’s birth—Nativity scenes, shepherds, the manger, the angels—are shaped primarily by Luke’s gospel. The mood reflected in Christmas hymns—“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…”—owe much to the Lucan narrative.
But the circumstances of Jesus’s birth in Matthew’s gospel are another story. All is not calm, bright, peaceful or tranquil. From the episode of Joseph finding Mary pregnant—with a child not his own—and his decision to quietly divorce here rather than face the law (death by stoning for an adulteress) on through the moment they flee Bethlehem for Egypt because of King Herod’s massacre of all boys two years and under, Matthew’s Christmas story is one fraught with danger and desperation.
In starting with chapter 2, we’re introduced to two primary characters (we’re counting the magi as one character since they are not singly distinguished from one another in anyway) in the Matthew birth narrative. While it is often debated as to what exactly “magi” are (astrologers, kings, wise men, etc.), the important characteristic of the magi in Matthew’s gospel is that they are “non-Jews,” they are Gentiles, foreigners, travelers from afar. The magi are juxtaposed with King Herod, i.e. the actual “king of the Jews”, and, to a lesser extent, the chief priests and scribes of the Judean people. It is the differences in action and orientation between these two primary characters that drives most of the plot in the verses that immediately follow.
The magi will be the first people to recognize and honor the significance of Jesus when they find him in the house in Bethlehem (no manger or stable in this story). They are “outsiders,” with no special knowledge of God outside the notice of a new star; while King Herod, the chief priests and the scribes are “insiders,” a people who possess special knowledge, the ones who know the prophets and the words of Scripture, directly descended from Abraham and Moses, bearers of God’s revelation, God’s chosen people. It is the outsiders who see and know and act in accordance with the new action God is taking in history, while the insiders are blind and ignorant and concerned primarily with their own power and any threat to that power.
There is an interesting line too in verse 3, “King Herod was greatly troubled and all Jerusalem with him” at the appearance of the magi and there words about a new king being born. We remember that Judea is occupied by the Romans and that Herod serves as a client-king, a puppet-dictator whose real power only lies in his accommodation to and willingness to serve the interests of the Romans over and against the needs of his own people. We can see throughout history how it is that “the people” become troubled whenever their local dictator is troubled: the anxiety of the dictator usually ends up being acted our through greater oppression and violence against the people over whom he rules.
Once the magi depart, without of course reporting back to Herod, we see what it will mean for the people to suffer because of Herod being troubled. As people in power so often act when faced with a threat to that power—remember that the magi came asking about the birth of the king of the Jews—Herod will unleash death and destruction on innocent, common people in order to quell any threat. His charge is to kill all the male infants and toddlers in the vicinity of Bethlehem.
So, far from that silent night, holy night and choirs of angels singing “Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace to all people”, Joseph is forced to flee the wrath of Herod—who at this point is cast as that most evil of characters in one of the most tragic events in Hebrew history, Pharaoh and his campaign of ethnic cleansing, ordering the killing of all Hebrew slaves’ newborn baby boys (Exodus 1). Joseph flees his home (note that Mary and Joseph actually live in Bethlehem at this point, not Nazareth), with wife and newborn child, to Egypt. The Holy Family become refugees, fleeing the political violence of their homeland.
The story will ultimately bring Mary, Joseph and Jesus full circle, returning once the threat has passed, but not to Bethlehem, for fear of further repercussions from Herod’s son who now rules in his place, but rather to Nazareth, a no-name town (not mentioned in the Old Testament) on the margins of the nation. In his story, Matthew has cast upon Jesus parallels both to the Hebrew people themselves and the story of the Exodus, as well as Moses and the story of his own dangerous, extraordinary birth.
So we see many possibilities for what Matthew may want to share with us: the conflicting parts that will be played by outsiders and insiders, a revelation that is understood by those without special knowledge but missed by those who possess that knowledge and should know better, the opposition of those with power to what God is trying to do in the world, the marginal status of Jesus and his family—in particular as refugees or immigrants—and their identification with one of the “protected” peoples of Jewish law (foreigners/refugees from “widows, orphans, and foreigners/refugees”), and the identification of Jesus also with Moses and the whole history of the Hebrew people.
SCRIPTURE STUDY: Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus? Wake me when it’s over…
For Scripture study this semester at the house, we’re looking at the gospel of Matthew. We started last week with what has to be one of the most boring passages in all of scripture: the opening verses of Matthew, i.e. the genealogy of Jesus. But look a little closer and a few things stand out which might be clues for what Matthew has in store for us.
The genealogy is split up into 3 sets of 14 generations, going back to Abraham, then through David and ending with Jesus. The tracing Jesus’s line back to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob seems pretty clear: Matthew is attaching Jesus to the founding fathers of the Hebrew people. The tracing the genealogy through David is also pretty clear: David is the “messiah” template in Judaism and by the end of the genealogy, Matthew has claimed that title for Jesus. Following David is a who’s who of Hebrew kings, good and bad, all the way to the biggest event in Israel’s history since the flight from Egypt—the Babylonian exile. The Babylonian exile marks a break in the Davidic line; the names of kings, familiar from scripture, gradually gives way to generations of anonymity, a downward progression of the Davidic line which results finally in Joseph, a carpenter.
And here is where it gets interesting. While Matthew begins his story by tracing Jesus’s lineage all the way back to David and Abraham, were left with what appears to be a disruption, a break in the line when we get to Jesus. Jesus is born of Mary, wife to Joseph, who is the adoptive father of Jesus according to the text, not his actual father. The birth of Jesus, which Mathew seems to be presenting to us as a continuation of the story which goes back to Abraham, is actually discontinuity. Matthew’s genealogy makes the case for both continuity and discontinuity in the birth of Jesus. We have an old story and a new story here, and how they play off of each other may be some of what Matthew has in mind for us in the rest of the gospel.
One other point to mention is the unusual asides mentioning women in the genealogy. Besides the fact that naming women in a genealogy of this kind is atypical, the particular women mentioned all have something in common—namely their status as outsiders. They are “non-Jews” who marry into the tribe and end up playing some decisive role within the story of God’s chosen people. Another inference from Matthew meant to draw our eyes to the interplay between insiders and outsiders? And the roles they play in God’s unfolding plan? We’ll continue reading on, each Monday, from 12-1pm. Feel free bring a lunch. All are welcome.
SCRIPTURE: Follow up from my talk at Holy Faith
Earlier this morning, I had a lot of fun talking with a group of about 100 or so parishioners at Holy Faith Catholic Church about “Scripture as Story.” For the folks who were there, I mentioned that I would make sure that I made it easy to find a link to my short general overview to our approach at studying Scripture at the GCW. If you want to read that short overview which includes a little bit about the power of story and a concise list of things to consider as you study Scripture, click here.
Additionally, I had to leave out one section of the talk this morning in the interest of time. I’ve pasted below a version of that section in case you’re interested. Thanks!
A Clash of Stories
Walter Brueggemann, a favorite Scripture scholar of mine, wrote: “The contemporary American church is so largely enculturated to the American ethos of consumerism that it has little power to believe or act… Our consciousness has been claimed by false fields of perception and idolatrous systems of language and rhetoric…”
In essence, this is Brueggemann’s fancy way of saying that for the great majority of folks in our churches, we have in fact (perhaps unwittingly) chosen to worship other gods than God, and to build our lives around other stories than the stories of our Scripture. Call those gods what you will: status, money, success, political ideologies, and so on. And those gods are mediated to us by their own priests, whether it be the folks who weave stories for us from Madison Avenue, or Wall Street, or from the media, or from political parties… They understand how to tell us stories which capture our allegiance, and we end up giving our worship to these false gods and organizing our lives based on what they have told us is important, essential, necessary to our fulfillment and happiness.
The one false religion Brueggemann names in particular, “consumerism,” is rampant in our culture. Brueggemann goes on to call consumerism “an ethos that depreciates memory” (meaning it cultivates in its adherents ignorance and disregard for the past), and that it “ridicules hope” (meaning that it encourages a lack of care or consideration of the future). What it tells us is that all that matters is now, and me, and what’s mine.
Brueggemann goes on to say that “the church will not have the power to act or believe until it recovers its stories…”
What he asserts is that we have lost our stories, and with it, we have lost our memory of what truly matters, of who we truly are, and what our purpose is here on this earth. And until we re-remember those stories, until we start to let them get inside us and work on us and recapture our allegiance to the real God, we will remain defenseless against the snares and lures of the false idols prevalent in our culture. We will remain prone and vulnerable to the manipulation of stories which purport to offer us happiness or fulfillment when what they really offer is our enslavement.
Our scriptural stories offer us a different Word than the dominant stories of the culture in which we live. Our scriptures serve as a counter, reminding us who we are and who God is and what our relationship is to each other and God. More often than not, they go against what passes for conventional wisdom; indeed they are often critical of conventional wisdom.
Like our ancestors in the early church, our scriptures invite us to be “different” — the Bible uses a word that is often translated as “peculiar” — in the world. Soren Kierkegaard, the great 18th century Christian philosopher once wrote: “There was a time when one could almost be afraid to call himself a disciple of Christ, because it meant so much. Now one can do it with complete ease, because it means nothing at all.” Even 200 years ago, Kierkegaard was recognizing that people who follow Christ had ceased to look different in the world, that they looked, talked and led their lives just like everyone else–that they were no longer witnesses to a different reality but rather accommodated to the culture in which they found themselves.
But our ancestors have been motivated and transformed by the stories in Scripture all throughout history–from those in the early church who lived out their faith despite persecution to St. Francis and his wandering band of itinerant monastics; from members of the Confessing Church in Germany during WWII who resisted the will of Hitler and the laws of the Nazis to the leaders of the civil rights movement here in America who understood themselves as people with dignity bestowed on them by God. These folks, and many others, mined the stories of Scripture to empower them to be the people who God created them to be, no matter the risks, and to witness to that reality which Jesus called the kingdom of God–a kingdom not fully here but breaking in wherever people chose to live it into reality through their words, actions and choices…
SCRIPTURE STUDY: Flyer with dates and readings for this semester
For folks coming to the scripture study this semester or those who want to follow along, here is a flyer with the dates and readings for scripture study over the next few months: Scripture Study: January-April 2009
Feel free to join us anytime! I’ll also be posting regular reflections after each scripture study if you want to check them out here on the website.
- John
SCRIPTURE STUDY: Approaching the Story seriously as a story
This semester at the GCW, we’re going to look at a series of readings based on the Church’s liturgical calendar–namely the readings which will be used in many churches on the Sundays following our Tuesday scripture study. This is a departure for us, and for me. We typically study a book or a lengthy section of a book from scripture. I still think this is the best way to come to both an appreciation for and a deeper understanding of scripture. But I’m thinking that maybe a change of pace would be nice.
For folks who will be joining us over the course of the next semester, there are a couple of things essential to the way we study scripture at the GCW. My approach to scripture has always been to take the Story seriously as “story”; i.e. that a close reading of the text and attention to the elements of the story will yield a richness of meaning that is otherwise lost in other approaches. Some folks call this “narrative criticism.” The simple and most pertinent reason for this approach is that first and foremost the author wrote what they had to say as a story and therefore meant it to be understood within that framework. Secondly, stories are understandable to all of us. We have an innate ability to understand stories if we but pay attention. This doesn’t mean jettisoning understandings that come out of historical, social, political, cultural and linguistic analysis and whatnot. Rather it takes all of that into consideration within the context of the story itself; certainly knowing something about the history of Israel or having knowledge of Jewish rituals enriches our reading of the story. Together, as a group, we help to ferret out the little tidbits of knowledge that we all have accumulated over the years, enhancing our individual readings of the story with what others bring to light from both their knowledge and their experience.
Here’s a brief rundown of what we keep in mind as we study scripture together.
The first question to ask when approaching Scripture is NEVER “what does it mean?” The first question should ALWAYS be “what does it say?” or “what is written?” The text, albeit in translation, is the fence that hems in the various possible meanings of any particular story or passage. The meaning of a verse like “Love your enemies” can never mean “bomb and destroy your enemies.” The text itself negates that as a possible meaning. This is why we start by taking the text seriously.
The author of a book or passage is in control of the story. Every detail is there for a reason. So again, we need to read closely. At the GCW, we read and unpack a verse at a time.
We have an innate ability to understand stories. Many of us have been taught an overly reverential attitude toward scripture and we come to it doubting our abilities to understand. The truth is that, like when we watch a television show or read a novel, as long as we pay close attention, we usually can figure out what is going on. Same is true for scripture.
So here are some “helps” in learning to read or study scripture seriously as story:
- Read the text closely.
- Read the text with others, mining each other’s knowledge about what is going on.
- Read whole passages or whole books and puzzle out your own ideas and questions before consulting outside sources (like commentaries, which are also interpretations). Use outside sources only after you’ve achieved some of your own familiarity with the story.
- Use 2 or more good translations of scripture (NRSV, New Jerusalem, New American, and more). We’re reading of course in English, translated from the Greek and Hebrew. Translation is also partly interpretation and having translations that sometimes differ on particular words or phrases helps to clue us in to parts of the story which are “in play,” so to speak.
- Write out the text yourself. Write in your bible, jotting down notes, circling words, etc. Fill up the margins. Keep a journal of your study.
- Put yourself in the place of one of the characters in the story. What do they see, feel, think?
- When reading, note the following elements of most stories. These elements help to carry and articulate meaning.
- Where do passages begin and end? (Look for changes in setting, voice, etc.)
- In what order do things happen?
- What words, themes, actions, settings, situations, etc. are repeated?
- What is the setting?
- Who are the characters? And what do we know about them? (status, gender, jobs, ethnicity, etc.)
- What is the relationship between characters?
- What action happens? Who does or says what?
- Is there conflict? Between whom? Why?
- What drives the story? What is the plot?
- Is there a “twist” or “surprise” in the story?
Stories have power. They help tell us who we are, what we value, what is worth living and dying for. These stories in scripture should be foundational for us. And finally, these are the stories our ancestors have passed down to us. There is something here they want us to discover, something good and important and transformative. They want to tell us something. It is to our great joy to listen and to understand what that something is. We hope you’ll join us this semester as we listen and discuss together.
SCRIPTURE STUDY: Jerusalem Spring
Following the initial Pentecost event, where a new moment in salvation history is signaled by the reversal of the Tower of Babel story in Genesis 11, Peter delivers a speech invoking Isaiah, Joel and the Psalms of David to interpret the experience of this new fledgling community of Jesus’ followers (Acts 2:14-36). The passage ends with Peter’s claim that ”this Jesus whom you crucified” has been made by God “Lord and Messiah”. The terms “Lord” and “Messiah” when applied to Jesus have now to us lost nearly all of the shock value that they would have had for that first generation audience. The titles “Lord” and “Messiah” would have carried political as well as theological meaning for Jews and others during the time of the early church. They are titles which bring up a tension between Jesus and any other ruling power, party or individual. Especially in Luke’s writing (the author of the gospel and Acts), the “lordship” of Jesus is juxtapposed to the “lordship” of Caesar. To claim Jesus as Lord is to make a political statement that goes against the current political arrangements of the time. And to invoke Jesus as “Messiah” would have also stirred up Jews against the current political and religious status quo, especially Jews who were awaiting a Messianic leader like David to free them from Roman oppression. We cannot take these titles lightly, nor ignore the politically-charged emphasis of such a claim as Peter makes. To call Jesus “Lord” and ”Messiah” is to make a definitive pronouncement against the powers of nation, party, and president as to our deepest allegiance.
The people’s response to Peter is telling (2:37): they are “cut to the heart”, signifying a genuine and passionate guilt and pain over their participation in Jesus’ arrest, sentencing and death (remember the way the crowds were manipulated by the religious leaders against Jesus). Peter’s invitation to them (38) when they ask what they can do is to repentance and baptism, two words that should recall an earlier figure in Luke’s gospel to us–John the Baptist. If we look back to Luke 3:10-14, we see the template for this passage in Acts. The crowds are asking John the same question: What are we to do? John’s repentance consists of this: “Whoever has two cloaks should share with the one who has none; and whoever has food should do likewise.” When the same question is again asked, this time by the tax collectors who had grown rich off the people’s misery by accommodating and serving the Romans and cheating their own people, John tells them to “stop collecting more than what is prescribed.” To soldiers, “do not practice extortion. . .” and so on. The sign that one has truly repented is the practice of justice in relationship with other human beings, especially toward those to whom we have taken advantage of because of their relative lack of power and our ability to exercise power over them. What we have therefore in Peter’s answer to the people is not some “spiritual” repentance; rather, Peter calls the people to the practice of justice as evidence of their change of heart.
What we see later in the chapter (2:42-27) is that Peter’s call to an ethic rooted in repentance and evidenced by the practice of justice is the very ethic by which the early Christian community will live. They “devote themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life,” a teaching which we have seen is not esoteric and spiritualized but rather concrete and practiced in relationship. Their communal life is accented by their “bonds of responsibility” for one another. The breaking of the bread together has overtones to the Emmaus story, the Last Supper and the feeding of 5000 in the wilderness. The passage goes on to say that “they held all things in common,” and that possessions and property were put at the service of those who were in need (44-45). Such an ethic puts the “common good” above rampant individualism. Verse 45 also makes it clear that another’s need has a claim on us, a claim that sometimes requires sacrifice from us.
The picture that Acts paints of the early church could easily be dismissed as idealistic, not grounded perhaps in reality. But what cannot be argued is that these are the values and this the ethic and lifestyle that the early church wants to hold up as the goal to which we should be oriented, the world for which we should strive. We have seen and heard of other movements that have experienced periods of rich transformation, profound community, and creative possibility–Czechoslovakia behind the Iron Curtain and its Prague Spring of 1968 is but one example. It is a vision of what is possible–a vision that can carry us, sustain us, and for which we are willing to work and sacrifice and strive, despite the obstacles. The “Jerusalem Spring” of the early Church in Acts 2:42-47 is not a pipe dream or unattainable ideal. It is the prophetic practice of community, in contrast to the surrounding society and culture, to which the Church is called in every generation.
SCRIPTURE STUDY: A new start
When we last left the apostles, they were holed up in a room, hiding, unsure of what what was to happen next. The book of Acts opens with Jesus enjoining them not to depart from Jerusalem, intimating that this was exactly what the apostles had hoped to do. And who could blame them? Just a few short days ago they had seen their leader arrested, tortured and crucified by the powerful religious and political leaders of Jerusalem. There was a good chance that such a fate might await his followers as well.
But during the appearances to the apostles following his resurrection, Jesus does convince them to stay–and to wait. Something is going to happen.
Chapter 2 of Acts opens with an allusion to “Pentecost,” but not the later Christian Pentecost; rather this is the religious festival of the Jews of Jesus’ time, the “Feast of Weeks,” centered around the harvest and agriculture. As with Passover and other religious festivals, Jews from all over would have come to Jerusalem, swelling its numbers. (Later in the passage, verses 5-11, we’ll hear the breadth of Jewry present in the city.)
The opening of chapter 2, verses 1-13, is rife with imagery that would have helped its earliest listeners to recall their stories about “beginnings.” In verse 2, we have a reference to “a noise like a strong driving wind,” the word “wind” being a cue to the opening verses of Genesis, when God’s spirit swept over the waters of creation like “a mighty wind,”–the pregnant pause, the poised in-breath just before God initiates the work of creating. So with this “wind,” we, as readers, should be alerted to some new “creating” action of God in history.
God’s choosing of this small, ragtag, frightened, marginalized people also recalls God’s action on behalf of the Hebrews when they were an enslaved, disempowered, frightened and marginalized people in Egypt. Both times, God does not enter into history on behalf of the powerful, but on behalf of the powerless.
Verses 5-12 recall another story in the opening section of Genesis–the story of the tower of Babel from Genesis 11. The fact that there are many languages in our world is used to tell a story about vanity, pride, misunderstanding and the ultimate aim of communication. Early in the Babel story, the people all share a common language, but their ability to understand one another leads to an inflated sense of importance and a desire to show off their power. Their attempt then to build a “city and a tower with its top in the sky”, made possible because they share a common language, is an attempt to build a monument to their own greatness. Such a building, like the pyramids of Egypt and the ziggurats of Babylon, would be built on the backs of the poor, enslaved masses. So God strikes down their efforts and scatters them by “confusing their languages.”
What happens in Acts 2:5-13 is then a reversal of the Babel story. Jews from “every nation” are gathered, but each hears the apostles–now emboldened and speaking out, testifying publicly–in their own tongue. At this new moment, the beginning of the Church, understanding despite language barriers (cultural barriers, etc) is possible. Understanding revolves around the content of the message. Unlike their predecessors in the Babel story, the apostles’ testimony is not to their own greatness but to the greatness–the mighty acts–of God.
The apostles had been hiding and afraid. Their leader, despite his promise to them, had left. There was the real possibility of the story coming to an end at this point. But a new beginning has now happened. The gift of the Spirit isn’t the charismatic gift of “speaking in tongues.” The gift of the Spirit is courage to proclaim the mighty acts of God–despite the threats of the powerful–and the possibility of understanding, despite our differences.
SCRIPTURE STUDY: A Church pre-occupied with neither heaven nor politics
I am convinced in reading the opening passages of the Acts of the Apostles that it is Luke’s primary purpose to make sure the early church is oriented to that which is at the heart of the proclamation and passion of Jesus. The central message of Acts 1:1-14 resonates not only in the time of the apostles and the early Church, but for those who would follow Jesus today and the preaching and practice of our churches as well.
The passage opens with Luke orienting the reader to where we are in the overarching story (it is generally agreed that the author of the Gospel of Luke and Acts is the same person) and confirming the continuity of Jesus’ message, both pre-Resurrection and post-Resurrection. As he did before his arrest and crucifixion, Jesus speaks to his followers about that transformative reality called the “kingdom of God” (verse 3). The focus, therefore, of his proclamation has not changed after the Resurrection. The message remains the same: the kingdom of God.
Now we have to imagine that the disciples are in a tricky position, and we get the idea, when Acts opens, that they are contemplating leaving Jerusalem (4). After all, for the followers of Jesus, his arrest, torture and crucifixion must have not only been emotionally and psychologically traumatic for them, but also a warning as to what the authorities might choose to do to them as well should they stick around and “stay the course.” But Jesus “enjoins” them to remain in Jerusalem, despite their fear and despite the danger. He assures them that the promise about which they have heard him speak is imminent—reaffirming again that that promise has to do with the in-breaking of the kingdom of God, the object of the verse just prior.
The disciples, however, continue to mistake the “kingdom of God” with their own less lofty, more immediate ambitions regarding the “kingdom of Israel.” In verse 6, they question Jesus not about his “speaking on the kingdom of God,” but rather want to know whether he is going to “restore the kingdom of Israel.” Jesus’ response to the disciples is curt and to the point—a good paraphrase would be: “That is of no concern to you.” Jesus instead re-orients them to the task that they are going to undertake in the world (Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth)—specifically to be his witnesses, those who will testify as to the truth of what Jesus said and did during his lifetime. And again, the message of Jesus’ actions and words throughout the Gospel of Luke (and now in the Acts of the Apostles) is not the restoration of Israel but the in-breaking of the kingdom of God.
Then, like Elijah before him (another prophet that criticized the religious and political powers of his time), Jesus is “lifted up” and disappears (verse 9). Now the disciples are left in a rather awkward posture, standing (maybe mouths agape, slack-jawed?), looking up at the sky (verse 10). Whereas Jesus had been attempting to re-orient the disciples away both their own worldly ambitions and their belief in a limited and ultimately doomed political reality (the kingdom of Israel), two new emissaries (“dressed in white” clues us in to the fact they were representatives of God) will now re-orient their attention away from “heaven” and back to the world around them, the world in which they will play out their roles as witnesses to Jesus and his proclamation of the kingdom of God (verse 11).
Implicit in Acts 1:1-14 is the call to give our allegiance to that kingdom which Jesus proclaimed—the kingdom of God—and not to give our allegiance to some partial, flawed political reality, be it the kingdom of Israel for the disciples then or the church’s embrace of U.S. empire in our own time. Secondly, the passage also challenges any interest the church may have in an “other-worldly” theology, a pre-occupation with “heaven,” and its parallels, the after-life and a salvation primarily concerned with what happens after we die. Instead, the passage, like the two men dressed in white in verses 10-11, challenges the church to stop looking up to the sky and to start looking around us—to make this world its concern, to understand our mission as being about the here-and-now, and that through how we live our lives—what we say and do—will we give witness to Jesus and the kingdom of God which he proclaimed: a kingdom where the oppressed are set free, the blind see, the poor have the good news of God’s special attention and concern for them preached and practiced by the church, where we love our enemies and do good even to those who would harm us.
Luke insists right off the bat that the church’s mission has nothing to do with aspirations for worldly power nor a pre-occupation with “heaven” and a “pie-in-the-sky-when-you-die” otherworldly theology. Our churches today would do well to remember this.
-John
