Book#3 The Theology of the Book of Genesis - R. W. L. Moberly

          I grew up with the vague idea that somehow the Old Testament and the New Testament were related. They had to right? Because they are in the Bible, and if they were not connected, why place them together? Then I was introduced to the idea of Biblical Theology, which argues that the Bible has a unified story: God progressively working to redeem his people, his actions culminating in the Person and Work of Jesus. Another important understanding is that because God’s revelation is progressive, Jesus’ coming changes the way we look at certain things in the Old Testament.

          I adopted this approach as I read the Old Testament, which in practice meant that many characters and scenes had typological significance instead of having a more general moralistic application. Also, the link between the Old and the New Testaments became more firmly established. For example, the story of David and Goliath is often applied as challenging and encouraging us (the readers) to be like David in trusting in God to defeat adversity. However, according to Biblical Theology, we are the Israelites, trembling and helpless against the enemy, and David is a type of Christ. His act of saving the Israelites points to Jesus’ act of saving humankind from sin.

          However, this might present problems (of which I hope to engage more in a separate post), one of which is (I think) this: that we are reading into the text (specifically the Old Testament) meanings that were not intended by the original authors. Vaughan Roberts suggests that ‘we need to let each Old Testament passage speak in its own right before we consider how it points to Christ¹.’ So I think that as I try to understand an Old Testament passage and attempt to make its connection to Christ, I need to seriously engage with the text, in its contexts, on its own terms.

          Sorry for the delay but I finally reach my main point. I think that Prof. Moberly (he is my Old Testament module lecturer) does precisely that in his book The Theology of the Book of Genesis (ISBN: 9780521685382). He looks specifically at Genesis, starting with a broad overview of its literature and how one approaches the book, then focuses on passages that have been hotly debated. What characterizes his work is that he does not force his own interpretations on the reader. Instead, most chapters first examine the views of other scholars on the discussed passage and then offers a different viewpoint before presenting Moberly’s own understanding of the text.

          He writes the book from an academic framework, albeit constructed within a Christian frame of reference – something different from what I was previously exposed to. Thus, reading this book is akin to being part of a theological discussion on Genesis. We as readers are practicing theology, which he defines as ‘not a once-for-all exercise in finding the right words and/or deeds, but rather a continuing and ever-repeated attempt to articulate what a faithful understanding and use of the biblical text might look like in the changing circumstances of life’ (p. 19).

          In a gentle way, he challenges us to look beyond our presuppositions, to suspend the preconceptions we always have towards something (in this case the Bible or a particular passage in it) and engage with the text on its own terms. Certainly my understanding of Genesis has been somewhat altered, and more questions have to be asked. I am now less certain about the theology of Genesis but I do not think it is an issue.

          Now, problematic or seemingly insignificant material can be heuristic in any Christian’s attempt to understand Genesis, and consequently, the Bible. We just need to ask the right questions.

1. Vaughan Roberts, God’s Big Picture (Nottingham: IVP, 2009), p. 165.

Book #2: Reformation Spirituality

This is the first book I have read that has taken a distinctively Christian approach to English Literature. The author, Gene Edward Veith Jr., writes that ‘not only can Calvin help to interpret Herbert, but Herbert can help interpret Calvin…’ (p. 24) Herbert is certainly a poet worth studying in relation to his art, but beyond that, to how Christianity and creativity interact to produce beautiful poetry. Reformation Spirituality (ISBN: 0838750710) is a good guide to see that connection.

In the few weeks since I have been introduced to the poetry of Herbert, he has been a great comfort in my Christian walk. It is perhaps easy to think of Christianity as rigid because it is dogmatic; or while reacting to the modern over-inclination towards ‘feelings’ to want to uphold objectivity of truth over the subjectivity of emotions.

However, Veith Jr. shows from Herbert’s poetry that the spirit of the Reformation can be captured in poetry that appeals both to one’s mind and one’s senses. He traces a theological sequence in The Temple (Herbert’s collection of poems): the Law and its function of showing human beings their sinfulness without offering salvation, then Justification in the Person and Work of Jesus and an individual’s response, then the process of Sanctification where the Christian life is a constant battle between sin and God, spiritual despair and assurance of salvation, which culminates in death, then there is an injunction for the Christian to continue warring against the world just as the Church has historically done.

This book is very readable and helps to thread the various theological themes that are present in Herbert’s poetry. To understand Herbert, one needs to grasp the doctrines of the Reformation that he held dear. And to understand the Reformation, Herbert’s poetry sheds light on how the break away from the Catholic Church and the embracing of the doctrines of Predestination and Perseverance of the Saints give comfort and hope to a generation previously living in perpetually fear.

For the modern Christian, Herbert’s poetry captures the truth of the gospel succinctly and his ‘plain style’ makes his poems easy to read and understand. There is much comfort in his trust in God and confidence in the character of the God he believed. I would certainly like to know God the way he does. In a time when a lot of things are uncertain, globally and personally, it is easy to swayed and blinded, having my eyes veiled to see the gloominess of reality instead of the light that gives all reality the shadow that looms over me.

Veith Jr. is helpful in presenting a Herbert who does struggle in his Christian life, yet at the same time is able to find comfort and security in the character of God. Perhaps that is the way for me to deal with the vicissitudes of life present at this juncture: to pick up my Bible and let God speak.

Maybe if one day you find yourself lost, read a few poems by George Herbert, get a glimpse of the God that loves him, then pick up a Bible and read about the God that loves us – you and me – and that He still cares, no matter what.

Book Project: 50 Books In 2015, Book #1

          In a conversation with another literature student about New Year Resolutions, she mentioned about setting herself a resolution to read 100 books in a year. I had a thought about it and found that it was a great idea to set a reading target for the year.

          Thus, I have decided to start a personal project of reading 50 books in a year. And after reading each book, I hope to share some personal reflection. I hope this will encourage me to read consistently and also to be thinking about what I am reading. Perhaps what I have learnt will be an encouragement to others.

          So here is book 1 (and some thoughts), The Trellis and the Vine by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne (ISBN: 9781921441585). The trellis represents the structure of a church that keeps it functioning. This includes the various committees, administration work and management issues. The vine however, represents gospel work: the process of making disciples through proclaiming and praying.

          They argue that God is doing this in the world: ‘Spirit-backed gospel preaching leading to the salvation of souls.’ (p.35) If that is really the case, that means our efforts should be on vine (gospel) work, which involves proclaiming, prayer, and people.

          Their point has implications to at least two groups of people: church leaders, and ‘normal’ church members. I think for church leaders, it is a challenge to re-evaluate the many programs that are run by the church. The question to ask is: are our activities making disciples of Jesus - disciples who will boldly live a distinctly Christian life in an increasingly secular world? Our focus should be training the next generation of Christians who will bring the gospel out to people who need it rather than to maintain existing church structures so there is a sense of observable achievement.   

          For the ‘normal’ church-goer, the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20) is a great indictment against our oftentimes ‘consumeristic’ approach to church. Marshall and Payne argue that the Great Commission is ‘a commission that makes disciple-making the normal agenda and priority of every church and every Christian disciple.’ (p.13) This means that I am as much involved in gospel work – the prayerful proclamation of the gospel to people – as my pastor is. I am a minister, I am a servant. And every week (and throughout the week) as I meet other Christians, it is my job to disciple them as much as I am being discipled by other Christians. I cannot sit back and do nothing, expecting that it is ‘other’ people’s job to greet newcomers or ask about a Christian brother’s Christian walk.

So vine work happens when Christians are equipped through prayerful proclamation from people to do prayerful proclamation to people in the pattern of 2 Timothy 2:2 ‘and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.’

That means that when I go to church next Sunday, as I am reminded of the gospel through the preaching of the Word, I am being equipped to serve other Christians and non-Christians. When the sermon ends, it’s not time to go back, but time to start serving.

I know that there are lots of challenges that await, but let’s try it out. I think we will realise how inadequate we are, and perhaps we will learn to trust the God ‘who gives the growth’ (1 Corinthians 3:7) and cling to the gospel even more dearly. 

Poem #3 Redemption – George Herbert

Redemption

by George Herbert

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,

       Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,

       And make a suit unto him, to afford

A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old.

In heaven at his manor I him sought:

       They told me there, that he was lately gone

       About some land, which he had dearly bought

Long since on earth, to take possession.

I straight returned, and knowing his great birth,

       Sought him accordingly in great resorts;

       In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts:

At length I head a ragged noise and mirth

       Of thieves and murderers: there I him espied,

       Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

          I have recently discovered the poetry of George Herbert which reflect, and help to understand the influence of the Protestant Reformation on the individual. It is in this vein of ‘Reformed Spirituality’ (as Gene Edward Veith, Jr. terms it in his book of the same name, ISBN: 978-0838750711) that Herbert writes about the experiential element of Reformed theology.

  

          There are quite a number of negative baggage attached to Reformed theology but I think through Herbert’s poetry, we can begin to understand what Reformed theology is like – not merely through intellectual study or debates, but also as conveyed through our emotions and our experiences.

          I chose this poem for its brevity and simplicity. The narrative is quite straightforward: the persona finds that he is not ‘thriving’ under an ‘old’ order and seeks God in places ‘great’ people can be found in order to become a new ‘Lord’. Instead, he finds this ‘Lord’ in most unlikely circumstances.

          However, through this poem, we can gain plenty of insight into the heart of the Christian understanding of salvation (soteriology). The opening quatrain shows the inadequacy of the ‘Old Covenant’ where the persona is ‘not thriving’. The Old Covenant of the Law cannot redeem us, its function is to show us our sinfulness.

          The second quatrain and the first tercet shows us that God had to come down to earth to redeem us, and that he left his greatness. The climax is in the volta (the turn) in the final tercet. It shows us that God is found among sinners and through his death grants redemption. I think the beauty in that final line is that before the persona, for all his efforts in seeking redemption and trying to find God on his own terms, has time to make his request, Jesus (without hesitation) already granted it through his death which initiated a New Covenant based on grace and not on works.

It was helpful for me to think about the massive truths of God’s salvation in a mere 14 lines: the redemption God ‘dearly bought’ was prepared way before I was even aware of my need for it. This reminds me of Philippians 2:5-8 ‘Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself to the point of death, even death on a cross.'

Have we found our redeemer dying among, and for sinners like us, or are we still seeking our own kind of redemption? Let’s consider.

Poem #2 The Darkling Thrush - Thomas Hardy

The Darkling Thrush

by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate

     When Frost was spectre-grey,

And Winter’s dregs made desolate

     The weakening eye of day.

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

     Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

     Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be

     The Century’s corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

     The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

     Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

     Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among

     The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

     Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

     In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

     Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings

     Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

     Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

     His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

     And I was unaware.

          The New Year approaches, and this year has not been an easy year. There have been countless deaths and suffering through wars, diseases and many other causes. Humanity has wrecked our world and destroyed the lives of our fellow creatures. If I consider the anguish the world is experiencing, there certainly is ‘little cause for carolings’.

          Yet the perfect rhymes in the final stanza of the poem creates a mood of hope and harmony; that not all is doom and gloom. If we placed our trust in humanity, then I think whatever hopes we carry into the New Year will slowly peter out and leave us disappointed by failure or deluded by pseudo-success.

          Yet we know that ‘the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people’ (Titus 2:11). We are aware of our ‘blessed Hope’ (v13) and we are waiting for it. This is a hope that transcends the promise of politicians, economists, environmentalists and self-help specialists. It is ‘the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ’ (v13). There is something for us to look forward to in a New Year certain to be filled with loss and hatred, symptoms of our rebellion against our Maker.

          Just as we celebrated his humble birth, we should also eagerly await his glorious return. But for now, let us ‘declare these things’ (v15). There is a Hope that is offered to everyone, let us not (like Hardy) be unaware. 

Poem #1 If- Rudyard Kipling

I have decided to start sharing poems on my blog. Poems that have I find interesting, or have provided comfort during rough patches or hope during dark moments. 

I also hope to share some thoughts about the poems and perhaps it might interest some people. Anyhow, to begin this new project, I shall share a poem that has often helped me deal with my sense of self.

If-

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

     Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

     But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

     Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

     And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

     If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

     And treat those two impostors just that same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

     Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

     And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

     And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

     And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

     To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

     Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

     Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

     If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

     With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

     And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

It’s nice to find a poem that turns the values that society holds upside down and challenges us to redefine the way we look at success and worth. Kipling asks us questions about our attitudes, behaviours, standards, but ultimately confronts us with our Selves.

It is a great poem I think when deciding on New Year resolutions. I think it is excellent to consider the choice Kipling presents: conformation to the ‘Will’ of this world or to our own?

But then again, I think our wills are too weak, and maybe they need submission to a greater Will; definitely not of the world, but of some Being transcending it.

Who Am I?

          I was washing dishes and was thinking to myself of an existential crisis I may have just been confronted with: I have no one to live out with in my second year of university. Now that sounds more like what a narcissistic Gen-Y’s first-world problem – NOT an existential crisis. I certainly agree with that, hence I am struggling with my sense of feeling that I don’t belong to a community of friends here. It is difficult to speak against one’s feelings and emotions; though they are often irrational, rationale cannot simply sweep those doubts and questions of identity that arises at various points of our lives. However, I am sure I am not the only one who will face similar issues: not being sure of who I am.

          Going back to the dishes, I suddenly remembered a poem I came across and thought I’d share it as an encouragement, both to myself and to whoever that reads this. So here it is. The poem is ‘Wer bin ich?’ (Who am I?) by the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell’s confinement

Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,

Like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

Freely and friendly and clearly,

As though it were mine to command. 

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune        

Equally, smilingly, proudly,

Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,

Yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,

Trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation

Tossing in expectation of great events,

Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army,

Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!

                 The poem speaks for itself. There is a deep sense of doubting agony, uncertainty and introspection – all lonely questions. Questions that lead us away from its answer. In one simple couplet, Bonhoeffer turns all fears and apprehension on its head: my identity lies not in what people think of me or what I think of myself; it lies not in my personality or actions. Its source is not internal, it is external; yet it extends beyond the constraints of this material world.

          It lies in the character and action of God, who in violently succumbing to a disgrace of His identity – death on the cross - redeemed a scum of this world. And He lovingly adopted me and calls me ‘My child’, and I cry – in sorrow and in joy, in distress and in comfort, in persecution and in peace, in despair and in hope – ‘Abba! Father!’

          Does knowing this solve my real world problem? No.

          There is no promise that tomorrow I will have people who will invite me in to live out with them. I still might not feel that I belong. But clinging to this promise will help me face each day, and when the weight of matters causes my trembling feet to stumble and I fall, I need only to look up and see the Cross, and look beyond to the Empty Tomb to know that one day I’ll have a palace to live in, and what’s the best thing about it? I’ll be housemates with God!

          But for now, I guess it’s back to the dishes, and to everyday life…