Monthly Archives: May 2015

Through the Bible in Just Over a Year – Daniel

Through the Bible in Just Over a Year – Daniel

Once again, apologies for the sudden disappearance of this blog, but today we continue our jaunt right through the Bible in even more over a year with the somewhat strange book of Daniel. It’s a game of two halves really, and most of us seldom get past half-time.

In the first half is the well-known story of a young man and his friends who are exiled to Babylon with the other Israelites, but rather than being set to work with the navvies they are welcomed into the royal court and trained as civil servants. However jealousy causes some of the Babylonian courtiers to manipulate the king such that their continued devotion to their God will get them put to death. Twice there are miraculous escapes, once from lions and also from a furnace, and eventually king Nebuchadnezzar is humbled and broken by God until he comes to be a faithful believer. It’s a great story of the ultimate victory of God in the lives of those who stand firm for him, a story which is challenged in today’s world where we see Christians being killed for their faith in ever-increasing numbers.

Peter Paul Rubens. Daniel in the Lions' Den.

But then it all goes funny, as we get our first taste of a new biblical genre: apocalyptic. The word refers to the drawing back of a curtain so that what is hidden may now be seen, hence the name of the book of Revelation, the most famous piece of apocalyptic literature, to which we shall come eventually. So what is apocalyptic, and how should we read it?

It is generally considered to be the next step on from the prophetic literature. The prophets believed in a day when God would come and right all the wrongs in the world, but when things got even worse a new belief arose, that things were past the pint of a mere tweaking, and that God was going to sweep everything away and start again. So apocalyptic literature talks about cosmic upheaval with stars and planets being destroyed, the moon turning to blood, earthquakes, floods and the like, before God recreated the world, hoping that things would be better at the second attempt. And because apocalyptic usually comes out of a period of persecution, it is written in a kind of code, with symbolic images, numbers and so on meant only to be accessible to those in the know.

Now obviously if I, John of Upminster, wrote such a book, people would quite rightly ask who the heck I was and why on earth anyone should listen to me. So if I wanted to get my work out there I would choose a nom-de-plume with a bit more credibility, Hugh of Lincoln, for example. And then, writing in St Hugh’s name, I would ‘predict’ all sorts of stuff yet to come, like two world wars, Margaret Thatcher, the banking crisis and Caroline Flack’s victory in Strictly Come Dancing. By now people are hooked by ‘Hugh’s’ tremendous prophetic gifting, and so they would believe anything he said about the real future without a second thought. Apocalyptic literature is therefore pretty easy to date, because it suddenly becomes vague. Look at the change between chapters 11 and 12: there are very detailed accounts of exactly what the ‘king who exalts himself’ is up to, but suddenly in the next chapter there will merely be ‘a time of distress’. Historians can work out with come certainty (although always with scholarly debate) who this king was, and so date the work at the point at which the detail disappears.

So my view is that Daniel was a real guy, from the exile, to whose wonderful story some apocalyptic was attached to give it credibility. We’ll be looking at more apocalyptic material as we go on, so I won’t say more here, but the fundamental message is that God is ultimately in control, no matter how much the evil rulers try to thwart his purposes. So stand firm, hang on in there, as Daniel did, refuse to compromise, and wait for the salvation of the Lord.

OT Lectionary May 17th Sunday after Ascension Ezekiel 36:24-28

The days between the Ascension and Pentecost are increasingly being marked in the Anglican church as a novena, or nine days, of prayer for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Better late than never, I suppose, but as we seek to reflect and live out that period of prayer to which the first believers devoted themselves I sometimes wonder what we are expecting to happen. How will we know when the Holy Spirit has come? I reckon that when tongues of fire and strange languages broke out among them on the day of Pentecost it wasn’t just the onlookers who were amazed and perplexed. I’m sure the believers got more than they were bargaining for.

Grão Vasco, Pentecostes, da capela da portaria do mosteiro de Santa Cruz de Coimbra, 1534-35, assinada Velasco.jpg

So we seek to sanitise the Holy Spirit. I can remember being part of a team planning a children’s Pentecost celebration in our cathedral, at which it was suggested that we might cut out thousands of little red, yellow and orange bits of sparkly paper and drop them from the roof onto the children gathered below, and set up some huge fans to blow everyone around. Having just written a book on how children can receive the Spirit and his gifts as well as adults can, I suggested that we might just pray for the children to be filled with the Spirit, a suggestion which went down like air con in an igloo. Symbolism is much safer if it protects us from the real thing. We want the Spirit, but we don’t want to be charismatic, for goodness’ sake!

So apart from tongues, what might praying for the coming of the Spirit result in? Ezekiel has a slightly different take, although one which potentially might be equally disturbing. This text is aimed at those languishing in Babylonian exile as a result of their idolatry, and as God puts his Spirit in them they can expect a radical turnaround. The ‘before’ picture is one of scattered people, far from home, with hard hearts, filthy from their rubbing up against detestable idols, the sort, for example, to which you sacrifice your own children. But the gift of the Spirit will bring homecoming, cleansing, a heart transplant, and a restoration of their relationship with God. So radical will this U turn be that people will even want to keep God’s laws, rather than regarding them as a bit of a killjoy nuisance.

Ezekiel’s vision of the work of the Spirit is essentially a moral one, after which polluted and compromised people will not only behave themselves but will even want to behave themselves. The naughty delight in sin will lose its appeal for them, and they will be 100% devoted to God.

So for what do we think we’re praying as we seek a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit on God’s church? Spectacular gifts? More position and power in today’s society? The ability better to serve the needs of our communities? More bums on seats? Ezekiel would tell us that God has different priorities, although none of the above is a bad thing for which to pray. Essentially, says Ezekiel, the Holy Spirit is in the business of bringing holiness. If you’re the kind of Christian who sort of enjoys a bit of sin now and again, and believes that God isn’t that bothered, be careful what you pray!

Old Testament Lectionary – May 14th Ascension Day Daniel 7:9-14

So what did Jesus do next? It is easy to see the Ascension as simply the end, or at best the start of a period of absence. His early ministry over, Jesus goes home again, like the end of a somewhat unpleasant holiday. What does the NT tell us he does next? Of course the angels present at the ascension tell the bewildered disciples to expect his return to earth, but little is said about what he is going to get up to in the meantime. Apart from the fact that he is in some way going ahead open the way and to prepare a place for believers, there is little attention paid in the NT to this next phase of Christ’s ministry, The book of Hebrews, of course, does give us more information, as Christ sits down, his work of salvation completed, and moves instead into the role of intercessor for the saints still living on earth.

File:The High Altar And Tapestry, Coventry Cathedral.jpg

So it is to the OT that we need to turn to see a different take on the ascension, that of the rule and kingship of the exalted Jesus. Obviously this is before the event, and the language, as here in Daniel, is that of apocalyptic, but it nevertheless sheds light onto the work of Christ as exalted king rather than suffering servant or risen Lord. In context the apocalyptic passage concerns the oppressive reign of Antiochus IV Epiphanes which, coming hot on the heels of conquest of Israel by Assyria, Babylonia, Persia and Greece, threatened the Jews with the very real prospect of annihilation. During this crisis heaven is opened (‘apocalyptic’ refers to the drawing back of a concealing curtain) and we see the divine law court, where the judge is seated in his glorious robes and is about to pass the death sentence. In Christian interpretation of scripture this image, has been applied to Christ, the ‘Son of Man’, who takes his place alongside the Ancient of Days, a powerful symbol which has in recent years been taken up liturgically in the Anglican adoption of the Feast of Christ the King.

As I write the Conservative party, perhaps the most unpopular regime I can remember for a long time, has nevertheless been re-elected to power, with an increased majority, and with three key opposing party leaders falling on their swords in crushing defeat. Far be it from me to compare David Cameron with a cruel and persecuting Seleucid ruler, setting out to obliterate Christians from Britain (although some will regard his unmandated pushing through of the gay marriage law as equivalent to Antiochus’ driving of pigs into the Jerusalem Temple). In a time of a devastating earthquake in Nepal (I heard of a worship leader who rather unhelpfully chose the following Sunday to sing Mighty to Save, with its line ‘Saviour, he can move the mountains’), political upheaval and consistent persecution of Christians by ISIS and others, we might draw some perspective and comfort from this picture of the exalted Christ, reigning in glory, praying for the saints, and preparing to pass sentence on all that is evil. Perhaps v 11 is a key one: ‘I continued to watch’. So do we. For how long? As long as it takes.

Image: By Jim Linwood [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Reflections on Discipleship – The Signs of the Times

My job at the moment is developing discipleship in one Anglican diocese, so as you can imagine I do quite a bit of thinking about what discipleship is, what it means, and what it looks like. Here are some random thoughts, gleaned from my reflection on the Bible and current thinking … First of all apologies to addicts for my disappearance for the last couple of weeks. Back from holidays and raring to go. (Yes, I know you can schedule. OK, I was just too busy!)

“You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times.” Matthew 16:3

‘That was the most exciting General Election I’ve ever known!’ I overheard someone saying recently, someone who had clearly seen quite a few. May 7th 2015 will go down in history as a momentous day for Britain, one way or another, and those who, like me, stayed up most of the night watching the results come in will never forget the mounting sense of disbelief as Scotland turned solidly yellow, as three key party leaders fell on their swords, and as one of the most unpopular governments I have ever known was re-elected with an increased majority. There was one piece of good news, as reported on Facebook by Boogie in the Morning: Britain now looks like Maggie Simpson.

Election Maggie

Now I am neither a political commentator nor a Late Great Planet Earth apocalypticist, but I am a Christian disciple, and as such I am called by Jesus to try to read the signs of the times. Somewhere in my huge collection of cassette tapes with sermons on which I will probably never listen to again, I have one by Bible teacher David Pawson called something like ‘Prophetic Insights into the 1979 General Election’, at which Margaret Thatcher swept into power. I can’t remember much about what David’s prophetic insights were, but I love the idea that from time to time we stop and try to ask the question ‘God, what exactly is going on here?’ I certainly felt like that when I put on the telly on Friday morning after two hours sleep to see Britain changed beyond recognition.

Most of the comment I have seen from Christians has consisted of doom and gloom about how much more awful Britain is going to become with the Tories back in power, calls for the end of the first past the post electoral system (so that, paradoxically, it will be much easier for UKIP to come to power), and sermons on how it proves what we’ve known all along – we’re all basically selfish. But I have seen little which has tried to explore the astounding results from a spiritual rather than a purely political point of view.

I’m afraid I don’t have any great insights to share either, but I find myself much in prayer and asking God what is really going on here. I am also pondering the extent to which I seriously believe in a God who is not just involved in our world but even active in it. Am I a closet Deist, believing that God has set us going but it’s now up to us, and the only reason we get surprising Tory victories is because more people voted for them? Or do I believe, as the author of Job seemed to, that above and beyond what we can see there is a whole nother realm which interplays with the merely human one? Could God somehow have voted tactically?

So how do we live in the light of this election? Should we take to the streets, as some did over the weekend? I believe of course that there is a place for civil disobedience: I’m a liturgist, and I know that’s the only way we came to be allowed not to preach from the lectionary, at least for part of the year. But whoever is in power our call remains the same as it was for the early Christians under a regime determined to wipe them out: prayer, respect, and obedience unless that means disobeying God.