The disciple whom Jesus loved

Regular readers of this blog (six that I know of, perhaps more) might remember a string of posts about Lazarus in May/June last year [post 1, post 2, post 3].

I had a comment on the first post from a guy called Jim Phillips who has studied the 4th gospel in detail and the story of Lazarus in particular and has come to the conclusion that Lazarus was the 'disciple whom Jesus loved' who wrote the gospel, not John. He has written a book called 'The Disciple Whom Jesus Loved' which can be read in its entirety online.

I don't like reading long things (even, in this case, short books) online, so I tried to buy the book. But Amazon marketplace sellers in the UK charge an awful lot for a short, second-hand book, so I didn't buy it. In the end I printed out the online version and read it... eventually.

So, having now read the book, am I convinced by its reasoning?

Well, reasonably yes.

The (entirely biblical) evidence presented in the book is compelling. Certainly, it makes a very good case that the disciple John - one of "the twelve" - was not the author of the 4th gospel. It also makes a very good case for the belief that Lazarus wrote the gospel.

I am convinced.

That's not to say that I couldn't be convinced out of this belief if other evidence were presented, but for now I am content to believe that the 4th gospel was written by Lazarus. Or written by someone else from the point of view of Lazarus.

That second possibility there is one that is not considered in the book, yet still remains a possibility. Just because the book is written from the point of view of 'the disciple whom Jesus loved' (TDWJL), doesn't actually mean that it was that disciple who wrote it. But that is a minor point.

The one issue that the book hasn't addressed to my satisfaction is the question of why the other three gospels make no mention of Lazarus at all (except in the parable of the Rich man and Lazarus). Indeed, while the 4th gospel has Peter and TDWJL going to the empty tomb on the day of resurrection, Luke has Peter going alone (Matthew & Mark don't have Peter going there at all).

What's going on there? That't not just a case of two people remembering the event in different ways, this particular event was the one, central event which defined their whole belief system. This was the most important event they were writing about. If Peter had gone to the tomb alone every one of the disciples would have known. If he was accompanied by TDWJL (whoever that might be) they would have known it too.

So, as I see it there are two possibilities:

1. The authors of the other gospels deliberately removed TDWJL from their accounts, or
2. TDWJL wasn't there and his insertion into the 4th gospel is a fabrication.

The author of the book cannot conceive of the 2nd option as being a possibility as he starts from the premise that all the gospels (along with the rest of the bible) are both inspired by God and infallible (therefore factually accurate, in all details).

However, I don't think that even the first option is completely compatible with the same premise. If the other gospels are factually accurate then TDWJL (whoever he might be) would not have been removed from the story. Sure, they might have recorded it as Peter going with an un-named disciple, but not as Peter on his own.

But let's face it, if the 4th gospel is true, then the other three gospels deliberately miss out the telling of one of Jesus's greatest miracles and the one which appears to have set the ball rolling towards his inevitable crucifixion. In the 4th gospel account it is the resurrection of Lazarus that brings about the triumphal entry on Palm Sunday.

If all gospels are inspired by the same God, then it is clear that he wants the story of Lazarus to be recorded, so why would the others - under the inspiration of the Spirit - omit this crucial story?

All of the possible reasons for omitting Lazarus from the other three gospels are human in origin. Not down to inspiration. Indeed, this whole issue is good evidence for the fallibility of the gospel accounts. Now I'm not saying they're not inspired, I'm just saying they're not infallible. Someone can be inspired to write something and then produce something flawed. Neither the inspiration or the intention is in question.

But why miss Lazarus out of the first three gospels? Re-reading the stories, I wonder if there might be a little bit of jealousy going on here. From the 4th gospel, we get the impression that TDWJL/Lazarus was more than simply a disciple. Jesus refers to him as 'friend' and he is the only one singled out as being 'loved' by Jesus. Perhaps Jesus was closer to Lazarus than to 'the twelve' and perhaps they were jealous.

I think there's a lot more still to uncover in the story of Lazarus and I'll continue pondering it in the weeks and months ahead. It'll certainly make me view the 4th gospel differently next time I read it...

Wise men?

No seasonal doubts about the Christmas story this year. Just a simple thought...

The only people who were looking for and responded appropriately to the coming of Jesus the first time around were pagans.

The good, bible-believing, church-going people of the day missed it entirely.

It makes me wonder. If the same thing happened today, would the people in the church notice, or would we be too wrapped up in our own traditions to see? What about the un-churched around us, how many of them are looking, and ready to respond, but can't see Jesus in the 'xmas' traditions?

"When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth..."

That's Matthew 19v22, in case you don't know. The story of the 'rich, young ruler'. Obviously it doesn't apply to me, cos I'm not rich...

Or am I?

www.globalrichlist.com is a bit of an eye opener. I put in my annual salary and this is what it told me:

Quite shocking, really.

I listened to last week's sermon from The Meeting House yesterday. It was about money. One statement that stayed with me was that some sociologist somewhere did a study on people's money and happiness levels, and concluded that the adage 'money can't buy you happiness' was true in almost all instances. The two exceptions to this were (a) the very, very poor and (b) people who are sick.

The speaker pointed out that this meant that your money can't increase your happiness, but your money can increase somebody else's happiness. So give it away. Generously.

That Hideous Strength

I was raised on a diet of Narnia books from a young age. It was only natural, therefore, that I would go on to read C.S. Lewis's sci-fi trilogy as a teenager. I loved 'Out of the silent planet'. I liked 'Perelandra' (which I must have read aged 15 as I associate it with studying for my 'O' Grades) and I remember reading 'That Hideous Strength' - but I don't think I really 'got it' at the time.

I've just finished revisiting the trilogy.

Viewed as a series of sci-fi books, I still think the series declines as it goes on. OOTSP is still the best, Perelandra is the most fantastic and THS is still the least accessible.

Viewed from the theological perspective, however, things change a bit. The theology in OOTSP is relatively straightforward, is fleshed out a bit in Perelandra but gets really muddled in THS.

Sometimes I wonder if all the Conservative Evangelicals who hold the writings of C.S. Lewis in such high regard have ever actually read some of the things he wrote - his beliefs regarding the gods of nature and the powers of angels, as expressed in allegory form in this book, are far from orthodox.

Fundamentally, the book deals with the influence of the demonic on 'modern' life. There is also some political comment built in there which probably reflects the mood of the time (written during the end of the 2nd World War, but not published until 1945). The book actually does a good job of showing how subtly attractive evil can be, whilst also showing (Christians take note) how unattractive Christianity can appear to be to the outsider.

The book follows the story of a young couple, Jane & Mark Studdock as they get drawn apart, Mark towards the demonic 'N.I.C.E' organisation, Jane towards the Christian community who oppose the N.I.C.E. (that's the 'National Institute for Co-ordinated Experiments' by the way).

A lot of the early part of the book concerns university politics and the very human manipulation of people. I work in a university, and I can say that quite a lot of the satirical comment on university administration in the 1940s is still valid in the 2000s. The tension between the 'progressive' elements and the 'old school' is still there, even though the current old school were probably the progressive element in previous decades.

I've never been totally comfortable with Lewis's view on magic. And by magic, I mean the system of tapping into the power source of nature and using that power for your own purposes. Here, Lewis presents the belief that the use of magic in the modern world would be morally wrong - something the Christian should take a stance against - but that this wasn't necessarily the case in ages past. In the book, the character of Merlin is presented as both a Christian and as a magician, and it is asserted that before his time it was quite acceptable, possibly even good, to use magic, while he came from a time where the use of magic was a morally grey area. But subsequent to Merlin's time, magic has become categorically wrong. Yet Lewis gives no reason why this should be. Indeed, as the plot plays out it becomes apparent that the use of something like magic is required to overthrow the demonic enemy, so only Merlin can bring this about. Taken outwith the context of the allegory, Lewis appears to be saying that the best means of defeating the enemy are not allowed to us today. This doesn't sit comfortably with me.

When the book was published, George Orwell reviewed it and complained that the battle was won by divine intervention. Because if you can invoke divine intervention then that side always wins. And this doesn't make for a very good story. I can kind of see his point. Once the uber-angels get involved at the end, the outcome is clear: good guys win, bad guys lose and, in many cases, die. But here the book gets all tied up in its own internal logic - the reason divine intervention had never been invoked earlier is a bit unclear, God had apparently put constraints upon himself for no readily explained reason, but once the enemy broke those constraints, He was free to do what he wanted. Sounds a bit theologically suspect. It also implies that the good guys would never have won if the bad guys hadn't stepped over the line. So that aspect of the book is unsatisfying.

But the book is entertaining, if a bit long winded in the early chapters. And its interesting, even if you have to question the theology which is allegorised here.

Buck Naked Faith

Eric Sandras is an interesting guy. He's the pastor of a Vineyard church in the USA (at the time of writing this book he was in Washington State, I think he's in California now) and I've heard a few of his sermons in the past. He has some really great faith stories from his own life. Therefore, I'd expected that this book would contain more personal stories than it actually does. That's disappointment number one.

Disappointment number two is that, after a quite shocking (well, quite shocking for a pastor) personal story that he opens the book with, there is nothing that you haven't heard before for the first half of the book. And in many cases the things you've heard before were expressed better the previous times you heard them by other authors.

But I'm glad I stuck with the book. There were some real gems in the second half of it.

When I was a teenager (and not a Christian), I used to mix in Christian youth circles. Very quickly I discovered that there were two distinct kinds of people in these circles. There were those who were genuine Christians and behaved like Christians while in the Christian circles and when they were out in secular circles. And there were the phony Christians, who behaved like Christians in Christian circles and behaved like non-Christians in secular circles (you know, drinking too much, getting off with random people at parties, swearing a lot, the sort of things that 'normal' teenagers do). I rationalised this by assuming that many of the 'phony' Christians weren't really Christians at all, but for a variety of reasons chose to put on that facade while in Christian company, to fit in or to keep someone happy. I was kind of like that myself at that stage, I mixed in Christian company and did all the Christian stuff to maintain the impression that I was a Christian, primarily for my parents' sake (never managed to get off with random people at parties though, not for lack of trying, just never had the knack).

After I became a Christian I thought I'd moved out of 'phony' Christianity into the real deal. It took me several years to discover that there are actually a second category of phony Christians out there - people who are genuinely Christians but put on the facade of being much holier than they actually are. These people appear to live the perfect Christian life when you talk to them on Sunday mornings, but in reality they have doubts and struggles and give in to temptations all over the place. But these doubts, struggles and failings are never dealt with because they put on the facade. These are the 'hypocrites' that critics of the church claim it is full of...

And it is really to these people that this book is addressed.

Obviously, I am up-front and honest about my doubts on this blog. I have struggles and failings too, which I am less inclined to blog about. So this book was aimed fairly squarely at me.

The great thing about the second half of this book (as I said, the first half is perfectly fine, but nothing new) is that Eric Sandras comes from the same place of doubt, struggle and failure that I come from. Even better is that the failings he admits to are worse than some of mine, so he's not preaching down at me from some elevated holy place, he's preaching at me from along side, in the real world. And I must admit that is something really refreshing.

Of course, that makes it kind of hard when he gets to those areas of failure that he has worked through and I haven't yet. You see, there's work for me to do in my life.

The 'Buck Naked' bit refers to the idea that you have to strip away all the facades before you can get to the root problems and actually deal with them. The subtitle of the book is 'A brutally honest look at stunted Christianity' is probably a bit over-stated. I'm not sure 'brutally' needs to be in there, but it is an honest book and does tell 'stunted' Christians how to grow.

In fact, the book keeps referring to one image of stunted growth throughout - the bonsai tree. Viewed in isolation a bonsai tree looks like a proper tree, indeed it often looks like a weather beaten tree that can take what the world throws at it, but if you have perspective you see that this is not the case. This is the image that is constantly used here with regard to spiritual growth. Actually, it gets a little irritating in the first half of the book, but works out better towards the end.

There are many things that you can take away from this book, it even breaks off every now and then and suggests 'growth points' - things to consider or do to help yourself grow spiritually, but one of the main things I took away from it was one of the simplest:

Don't settle for the bare minimum of God.

Why only spend a short 'quiet time' with Him each day? Why not go to two services on a Sunday instead of one? Why not spend longer in worship? And so on. Often we settle for the minimum, when we should be aiming to maximise our time with Him.

So, its not a great book, but it is a good book. Not very long and worth a read. I can lend you a copy if you want, but I will want it back...

Nailed?

Was Jesus nailed to the cross?

This may sound like a strange question to ask, as the crucifixion is central to Christianity. But I'm not asking "was Jesus crucified?" - all the gospels agree on that point - I'm asking was he nailed to the cross or could he have been tied on it?

You see, while we know from history that some folk were nailed to crosses when crucified, we also know that others were not, some were tied on. This generally resulted in the victims having to endure longer on the cross as blood loss was less.

It may surprise you (it surprised me when I first heard it) to learn that none of the gospel accounts of Jesus's crucifixion mention nails being used.

Well, that's not strictly true. Reading John's account of the crucifixion in the Contemporary English Version (CEV) this morning I noticed it described Jesus as being nailed to the cross. The CEV actually says this for all four gospels. But that's sloppy translating, none of the other translations I have speak of nails. They all just say he was crucified, without going into any bloody detail.

How many sermons have I heard that do go into all the bloody details of how the nails were hammered in and where the nails were hammered in, and none of it is biblical?

There's only one verse in the bible that speaks of the nails. And that is in John 20v25:

[24] Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. [25] So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!"
But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."

Now I'm reasonably happy to believe that this account is based on actual events, but there are some who see the whole 'Doubting Thomas' episode as being a later invention added to the story, expressly there so Jesus can go on to say:

[29] Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."

Given that (at the time these words were allegedly spoken) nobody who had not seen had yet believed. So why would Jesus say such a thing? So it is supposed that this could be a later fabrication. But if it is, then we have no evidence that Jesus was ever nailed to anything.

There are probably loads of things like that which we assume the bible says when it doesn't. I'll be keeping my eyes peeled and will post others here when I find them.

Atonement

I have doubts about the Atonement.

These fall broadly into two main thought strands:

1. What did Jesus actually achieve on the cross?
2. Could anyone else have achieved this?

But first, just a quick recap on what 'atonement' actually means.

A*tone"ment\, n.

1. (Literally, a setting at one.) Reconciliation; restoration of friendly relations; agreement; concord. [Archaic]
2. Satisfaction or reparation made by giving an equivalent for an injury, or by doing of suffering that which will be received in satisfaction for an offense or injury; expiation; amends; -- with for. Specifically, in theology: The expiation of sin made by the obedience, personal suffering, and death of Christ.

Until I looked into this a few days ago, I hadn't realised that the English word 'atonement' was coined by William Tyndale when he was translating the bible, and couldn't find an existing word to fully convey the act by which sin was paid for and reconciliation with God was achieved.

So, it is claimed that Jesus's death on the cross somehow 'paid' for the damage due to sin and also restored the union between man and God which that sin had ruined. I think that's what most Protestant, Evangelical Christians mean by the word anyway.

Following on from the Levitical law and the concept of the flawless sacrifice, I can understand how it may be seen that as Jesus had lived a sinless earthly life, he was an appropriate sacrifice to pay for sin. But, I've recently come around to an understanding of Jesus's life as a picture of the perfect human life, that is the life he lived should actually be possible for other people to live out. In other words, it is possible (even if it might never have happened) that another human may have lived an entirely sinless life. I don't believe in original or inherited sin, so someone else could have done it. So the question is, could the other -theoretical- sinless human have died for the sins of the world?

Or is there some reason why a divine, sinless sacrifice was required?

Perhaps the plan was to wait for a sinless human to come along and atone for the sins of the world, but after a few thousand years of waiting, that hadn't happened and God had to step into the world and do it himself...? OK, so I don't believe that, but I don't really have any good reasons for that not being the case.

The NT makes it clear that the blood of animals can't atone for the sins of the world, so maybe the blood of a sinless man couldn't atone for it either. But why should the blood of a sinless God work then?

And what actually did Jesus's death do?

As I've said before, I can't buy the reasoning that it appeased God's righteous anger against us by satisfying His blood-lust. Or was it C.S. Lewis's Narnian explanation that when one who didn't deserve to die actually died, it broke the power of death?

Don't get me wrong, I believe that Jesus did manage to reconcile us to God by dying, but I'm just really unclear on why it worked or what was the mechanism...

Answers on a postcard please. (Or leave a comment, if you want.)

Lord, Saviour & Son of God

No, I'm not about to doubt that Jesus is any of these. So don't worry.

But I have been thinking of all the titles that Jesus is given in the New Testament, and I wonder if we really understand them in the way that the NT writers meant us to.

You see, everyone in the original readership of the gospels and the epistles was already familiar with concepts such as 'Lord' (kyrios), 'Saviour' (sōtēr) & 'Son of god' - Caesar was all of these!

Lord

Our contemporary understanding of the phrase 'Jesus is Lord' seems to be more or less equivalent to saying 'Jesus is God', that is, he is the ruler and creator of all things. Someone today can say that and it doesn't really have an impact on their life. Back when the NT was written though, the meaning was far more grounded, it meant 'Jesus is my master' and by declaring 'Jesus is Lord' people were more or less committing treason - in practice it meant 'Jesus is my master, Caesar is not'!

Romans 10v9: "...if you confess with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."

These days, that verse has a very cerebral slant - all you have to do is say something (with your mouth) and believe something (in your head) and you will be saved (whatever that means, see below). But to the first century nobody would say 'Jesus is Lord' unless they had decided to change their lifestyle to follow Jesus. And the 'believe' (pisteuō) bit also implies action, not merely head-acknowledgement.

Saviour

These days we kind of understand salvation in terms of Jesus saving us from the world - when we die we will get to go to heaven, or something like that. But the first century concept of salvation was very much salvation in the world. Caesar was the saviour in that he had established peace (the 'pax Romana') in all the Roman world. The Greek word sōtēr has three meanings, saviour, deliverer and preserver. So when we say that Jesus is saviour, we're talking about an ongoing preservation of us in the world as well as any future aspirations. He's saved us and delivered us from our sins, enabling us to live in the Kingdom now - when we're in the world. There's a nice turn of phrase in Acts (2v47, also in I Cor 1v18 and 2 Cor 2v15) which speaks of the believers as being those who are being saved. Its not a one-off event, but an ongoing process. (That thought takes me back to an old sermon that is well worth a listen).

Son of God

Just a wee comment in passing, but 'son of god' was not a particularly radical assertion in the ancient world. Many of the Greek, Roman and Egyptian heroes were sons of gods. Many of the Roman emperors were proclaimed to be gods after they died, so their sons were (by definition) sons of a god. But, of course, in Jewish circles that was a radical assertion. It was claimed that Jesus was the only Son of the only God.

But in all these things, those who wrote about Jesus were being subversive. They were presenting Jesus - on many levels - as the one who should replace Caesar in the lives of Christians. Most of the letters were written to churches in the Roman world, presumably full of people whose self-identity was bound up in being a Roman. Yet the call of the NT writers is to completely change your self-identity. In every way that folks back then relied on Rome or Caesar for identity, support, authority, etc., etc., the subtle message in the NT is that Christ replaces, supplants or completely over-rules in all instances.

I wonder what that looks like today?

Trans-gression

Bear with me on this one, as its a real issue, not like some of my more speculative posts.

There is someone who I interact with on an occasional basis who is going through the transition from female to male. (S)he has already adopted a male name, dresses as a man and will eventually have gender reassignment surgery.

Not that (s)he's the church going type, but I wonder what the various different parts of the church would make of the situation. How would they relate?

You see, until recently she was a heterosexual female with identity issues - the sort of person that many churches would welcome with open arms. He's now going through the transition to being a homosexual male, someone who I imagine would not be half as welcome in most churches.

I'm not quite sure what to do (if anything). WWJD?

Our God is bigger than your god...

I went off on a bit of a rant in a comment on Chris's blog the other day. I feel a little bit bad about it. Sorry Chris.

But while that might not have been the best place to air this opinion, on reflection, I think I still have a point. I think that Christianity has been playing the "Our God's bigger than your god" game for so long that we now have an exaggerated and unrealistic view of our God.

I know that some of the readers of this blog will be thinking something along the lines of 'its impossible to have an exaggerated view of God, God is infinite...' at this point.

We've all (or many of us, at least) been taught - from an early age - that God is omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent and omnibenevolent, as well as being infinite. Most of us accept that teaching.

But I contend that this is:

1. Not actually biblical, and
2. Not consistent with our experience of reality

I've heard an awful lot of atheist arguments recently that assert that an omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent God cannot exist because [insert reasoning here]. Therefore God does not exist Q.E.D.

But at best, all that reasoning does is demonstrate that if there is a God, then he isn't all of the above. The atheists present the argument as black and white - either God is all those things or there is no God. The arguments allow no room for the possibility of (say) an omnibenevolent god, who is extremely (but not infinitely) powerful and knows an awful lot, possibly everything that has been or is currently, but not necessarily everything that will be. The arguments can't disprove that god.

I think that Christians are very good at exaggerating. God reveals himself as very strong, but we exaggerate him to be omnipotent. God demonstrates his ability to be with his people wherever they go, but we exaggerate this to omnipresence. God reveals his plans for future events and we exaggerate this to all-seeing-foreknowledge.

I've heard it said that many of the future prophecy statements in the bible are best understood in the sense of 'this is what I'm going to do in the future, and nothing you can do will prevent me from doing it' rather than 'this is what I have foreseen will happen'.

Just pause for a minute and consider, is the God you believe in actually consistent with the reality around you?