Walter Brueggemann on Laments
“They lead us into dangerous acknowledgment of how life really is. They lead us into the presence of God where everything is not polite and civil. They cause us to think unthinkable thoughts and utter unutterable words. Perhaps worst, they lead us away from the comfortable religious claims of “modernity” in which everything is managed and controlled. In our modern experience, but probably also in every successful and affluent culture, it is believed that enough power and knowledge can tame the terror and eliminate the darkness. But our honest experience, both personal and public, attests to the resilience of the darkness, in spite of us. The remarkable thing about Israel is that it did not banish or deny the darkness from its religious enterprise. It embraces the darkness as the very stuff of new life. Indeed, Israel seems to know that new life comes [from} nowhere else.”
- Walter Brueggemann, the Message of the Psalms
I’ll say it again, “You’re the most incredible thing.”
ARTIST: Hey Rosetta!
You’ll be a bright light coming out of the dark
All the doctors blinking hard
You’ll be lightning coming out of the storm
It’s a message, it’s a miracle
You’ll do all right
You’ve got your mother’s eyes
You’ve got your daddy’s head
Everything you need
For this hard ride
They’ll be strapping you on
All the ups and downs and you can’t get off
Yes, trouble we’re handing off
And you’ve got to do better than us
It’ll be all right
You’ve got lots of time
Got your daddy’s love
Everything you want
I can feel you and what you’re gonna be
You’ll be stronger, you’ll be smarter than me
Oh baby, I’ll say it again
You’re the most incredible thing
Sorry, this is it
It’s cold and hard and badly lit
And there’s no backing out of it
So forget where you’ve been
It’ll never be that good again
And we must only look ahead
Soon you’re 33
And everything you tried to be
Is pulled apart by fear and greed
Let young hands build you up
And carve your face in honest rock
With sunlight on your noble jaw
May young hands build you up
I’m happy that you’ve come along
I’m happy that you’ve come, I’m happy that you’ve come
Oh baby, I’ll say it again
I’ll say it again, I’ll say it
You’re the most incredible thing
What do I do with this graphic picture?
Warning: this is a bit of a graphic post.
Here’s a confession; I am a Redditor. Reddit, if you’re not familiar, is a social website where people can submit content; news, pictures, opinions, memes, etc. My wife calls is the site where I look at pictures of cats. She doesn’t get me, obviously.
The other day while on Reddit, I came across a link of Massoud Hossaini’s Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph. It won the prize for best Breaking News Photograph. If you haven’t seen the photo yet, I’ll warn you; it’s graphic. Here it is:
The picture tells the graphic story of Taraneh, a young Afghani girl celebrating (along with the rest of her family, friends, and community) the Day of Ashura. Part of the tradition is that girls wear green dresses to show sympathy to Imam Houssain (Muhammed’s grandson) for the loss of his children in the 7th century. Hossaini (the photographer) was attracted first by the green dress and decided to follow the girl down the streets. Within time, a man sat down in the middle of the crowd and set off a bomb killing himself and 53 other people.
Taraneh survived. Or, rather, she will try to survive after this event. How do you really go on living after something like this happens to you? Her only brother died as well as her aunts and uncles. The photographer was also injured by flying shrapnel. This young (now 11-year old) girl is quoted as saying, ”When I could stand up, I saw that everybody was around me on the ground, really bloody. I was really, really scared.” This isn’t just a photo of her, this is her life. Right now, I’m haunted by it. This is someone’s little girl. That is someone’s dad/mom/child laying there. This is the reality of life for too much of the world. That boy in the green outfit is about the size of my son, Finn. He was their treasure. And now, he’s dead.
I’m reminded of the famous Kevin Carter photograph captured in 1993 of a toddler struggling to survive in Sudan and a vulture anxiously waiting for the toddler’s demise. For the vulture, it would be his next meal. For the toddler, it was his hunt for some sustenance to get him to the next day of struggle and suffering. This scene (and others like it) haunted the photographer so much, he took his own life a year later. In his suicide note, he stated, “I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings and corpses and anger and pain … of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners…” I am haunted as well. I want to cry out in anger like the Psalmist; “Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?”
I’m left wondering; what do we do with pictures like this? I think we have a few options (not an exhaustive list, just a few options):
- Ignore them: For much of the world, ignoring situations like this isn’t an option. It happens in their backyard whether they want to deal with it or not. But, for us in America, it’s quite simple to get caught up in our/my first-world-problems. We don’t have to look at pictures like this, or even more, cognitively struggle that these pictures represent a world in which we are a participant. We can ignore the information in hopes that this deathly world will never come to our front porch.
- Look, Don’t Touch: The idea of slacktivism, or slacker activism, where we know all the right statistics and understand all the right justice buzz words, but do nothing to actually alleviate the plight of the suffering scares me. It scares me because my temptation is to just be an advocate and not a participant. There is a wide expanse between saying that something is a problem and putting your time, energy, money, resources towards a solution. It’s easy for me to give words towards a movement. It’s much more difficult to sacrifice things that matter more.
- Love Well: I’m here reminded of Paul’s words to the early Roman church [this is in the 12th chapter]:
Love must be real. Hate what is evil; stick fast to what is good.Be truly affectionate in showing love for one another; compete with each other in giving mutual respect. Don’t get tired of working hard. Be on fire with the spirit. Work as slaves for the Lord. Celebrate your hope; be patient in suffering; give constant energy to prayer; contribute to the needs of God’s people; make sure you are hospitable to strangers.Bless those who persecute you; bless them, don’t curse them. Celebrate with those who are celebrating; mourn with the mourners. Come to the same mind with one another. Don’t give yourselves airs, but associate with the humble. Don’t get too clever for yourselves.Never repay anyone evil for evil; think through what will seem good to everyone who is watching. If it’s possible, as far as you can, live at peace with all people. Don’t take revenge, my dear people, but allow God’s anger room to work. The Bible says, after all, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord.” No: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him a drink. If you do this, you will pile up burning coals on his head.” Don’t let evil conquer you. Rather, conquer evil with good.
What’s interesting is that Paul writes to a world where the Church was the primary recipient to such violence, bloodshed, and injustice. There wasn’t any need for theoretically sticking your head into the situation because it happened to you or people you knew. Yet, in spite of the malady that permeated their existence, you hear things like “love must be real”, “hate what is evil”, “associate with the humble”, “live at peace with all people”, “feed your enemy”, and “conquer evil with good”. This is the distinctive in which I not only want to proclaim but live passionately. I will not succumb the broad strokes of hopelessness painted with luscious strokes by those doing evil in this world. Instead, I will speak a contrary voice. We, as the Church, will not only be advocates of good, we will be doers and conquerers.
Perhaps our future in the Church is not in the intellectual pursuit of a satisfying answer to theodicy (which isn’t a bad endeavor in itself) but instead in the lives that are willing to suffer with those that suffer, mourn with those that mourn, seek justice for those suffering injustices, and love those that need love the most. As Stanley Hauerwas aptly wrote in God, Medicine, and Suffering, “[Our] only hope lies in whether we can place alongside the story of the pointless suffering of a child like [Taraneh] a story of suffering that helps us know we are not thereby abandoned. This, I think, is to get the question of “theodicy” right…” Those that suffer are not alone. We the Church will and should suffer amongst those that suffer. That is their hope. That is our hope. He will not abandon us. We will conquer evil with Good.
You’re a wizard, Harry! | Harrison D. Loucks Pictures
Ema has been totally stoked about getting pictures taken of Harrison. Through her work making hats, she has interacted with quite a few photographers. One of her favorites is Amanda Tonagel. Amanda shot these pictures of Harrison on his 9th day of living out of the womb. He’s a cute kid. But, perhaps I’m biased.
If you want your family/child/baby pictures taken by someone that has great taste, contact Amanda through her website. Ema designed and made all of the hats. If you want to purchase one of them, visit her Etsy store.
God, Medicine, and Suffering Notes: Part 1
On April 29th, I’ll start a series called “Skubala Happens”. It’s my best effort to tackle the great philosophical and theological dilemmas inherent in existence; why does evil/suffering/sin/bad things happen? Many people I know struggle little with those questions. However, it is the intersection of faith and doubt that often permeates my life. It is the grand debate that fills auditoriums to see scholars wrestle with the truthfulness of a claim, “Is God good in a world filled with so much suffering?” It is not merely a question for some people, it is the great question.
My story weaves through the reality of pain and death and destruction likely no more than the next person. But, tt was the death of my mother that brought me to the peace of Christ and it’s been the death of friends/babies that have brought much dubiety in my theology. It’s not that I don’t ‘know’ that God is good, it’s that I don’t always believe what I ‘know”. Often I wonder if my faith is ‘strong enough’ to endure the trials of losing one of my children. The answer to that question, at this time, scares me more than I’m ready to fully admit. So, what better way to wrestle through these issues than with 300+ of my closest friends at State Street? It’s my favorite community to wrestle with theological and philosophical conundrums. Hopefully it will lead to much growth personally and communally.
One of the books that is helping me form a [somewhat] cohesive train-of-thought around the problem of suffering is Stanley Hauerwas’ G0d, Medicine, and Suffering. I’m going to be blogging some notes/thoughts from reading through the book. First, though, a note about the book.
The book is only 168 pages. It’s put together in three larger chapters; (1) A Child Dying, (2) Theology, Theodicy, and Medicine, and (3) Medicine as Theodicy. Throughout each chapter there are sub-headings as well. I will divide each blog with the corresponding sub-heading, not chapter. If you’re not familiar with Stanley Hauerwas, you should be. Hauerwas is one of my absolute favorite theologians/ethicists. His preeminent book is the highly accessible “Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony“. Hauerwas is a professor at Duke Divinity School and the Duke University School of Law. In 2001, Time Magazine named him “America’s Best Theologian”. This book’s larger theme is the problem of suffering/evil (ie. theodicy). It’s perhaps more distinctly about the problem of suffering in regards to medical ethics/technology. It doesn’t seek to answer the intricate questions of theodicy in a systematic ways, but instead, seeks to gain understanding as to why we have those questions anyway. I’ve asked my M.D. friend and reading cohort Ben Mannix to also pick up a copy. It will be interesting to hear his opinions on the matter.
PREFACE & CHAPTER I A Child’s Dying
On Getting the Issuer Right: A Story
Hauerwas lays the cards on the table in the beginning [as prefaces normally do] in regards to his purpose in writing, “For a number of reasons that I hope this book will make clear, I am profoundly suspicious of all attempts … to explain why God allows us to experience pain and suffering; put even more strongly, I hope to show why this way of putting the question of suffering is a theological mistake.” This is not an attempt to make cohesive all the theological and philosophical reasons for the existence of evil. Books that make that attempt exist. This just isn’t one of them.
He continues, “Rather than trying to answer the question of why God allows evil and suffering, I will try to help us understand why that question seems so important to us who inhabit the world we call modern and why illness seems so often to occasion such questions. … I cannot promise readers consolation, but only as honest an account as I can give of why we cannot afford to give ourselves explanations for evil when what is required is a community capable of absorbing our grief.”
This is an interesting and important distinction in Hauerwas’ book compared to some of the other theodicy books I’m currently reading. The book is expressly written for a Christian audience. For him, the question “why does evil exist?” is the wrong question for Christians to ask. He goes on to say, “Accordingly, I write for Christians in the hope that theological reflection might give them some help in living more faithful lives. I also hope, however, that this book might be of some help to non-Christians-that at the very least it might help them to recognize the significance of the absence of such worship.”
Perhaps we shouldn’t be so consumed with the “why” of evil, but instead “how” to deal with its existence. That might seem like ducking a larger issue, but for those that are wading through the waters of grief, darkness, and destruction, we rarely need to know why it exists, but instead, how to wake up the next morning and try to live again. I have heard many biblical reasons about the nature of evil and some I find more compelling than others. But, where I find myself spending the most time thinking is, “how do we ever move past this situation?” How can it ever be normal again? How can I ever not be consumed with loss? How can I provide for this person any relief from their heartbreak? Things are likely more pastoral in nature, but still very important for a community of Christ to answer.
Hauerwas starts the first chapter dissecting the difference between theoretical knowledge and experiential knowledge. “It is one thing to think that “the problem of evil” can be answered by the “free-will” defense or explained through human sin; it is quite another to confront the illness of a child.” I find this to be such an important aspect to comforting those that are hurting. Does your theoretical answers match with their emotional heartache? As he says, “[...] when I confront the actual suffering and threatened death of a child-in particular, the actual suffering and threatened death of my child-such speculative considerations grounding belief or unbelief seem hollow.” Why is death so much more difficult to deal with when it is a child instead of an adult? Death is difficult no matter the situation. But, specifically, it is more gut-wrenching when a child dies. Does our answers for why bad things happen seem to appease both situations; the death of a child and adult? It would seem quite outlandish to remark during a child’s funeral, “Well, it was just their time.” It was their time?!
Rather recently I was asked to do a graveside service for a 6-week old that entered into eternity. It wasn’t “his time”. In fact, I believe he was robbed of his time with his parents, his twin brother, and his family that so anxiously looked forward to loving him throughout his life. But, death did what it does to anyone that has ever lived; it destroys. Christians don’t take comfort in death. Not at all! If we have any comfort, it lies certainly in the resurrection. We can loudly proclaim, “death is not the intention, but resurrection is the hope.” But, even in spite of our hopeful beliefs in resurrection, we’re left with wondering, “why”. Hauerwas goes on to stay, “One of the difficulties with books about “the problem of evil” is that they seldom raise the question of who has the right to ask the question and from what set of presuppositions.”
So, who has the right to ask “why does evil happen?” Does the mourner? Does the dead? Do parents in the cancer ward of St. Jude’s Hospital? Do you or I? Hauerwas, instead of answering the question out right, first appeals to a story. For him, stories help frame the challenge of suffering, and even more important, help us to respond to that challenge. Stories paint a picture more completely than philosophical banter. He states, “We are, quite rightly, not interested in the theoretical issue of suffering and evil; rather, we are torn apart by what is happening to real people, to those we know and love.” Often I’m asked the question by people at State Street, “but why does this idea/belief/opinion matter anyway?” It matters because it affects real people with real lives and real situations. And, if that is true, then it is paramount.
To illustrate his point, Hauerwas uses Peter DeVries book from 1961, The Blood of the Lamb. It tells the story of a man dealing with his strict Dutch Reformed background and how to reconcile his beliefs (or un-beliefs) with his life. As the protagonist grows older, he deals with the suicide of his wife (and many other important people in his life) but is comforted by their young daughter. But, what happens when his daughter succumbs to cancer? As a side, Hauerwas probably includes 10-pages of dialog from DeVries’ book. As I was reading in a coffee shop, I started weeping. It’s a very realistic and raw look at the loss of a child. It made me want to bring my daughter out of school just to give her a hug (or, to have her give me a hug is more likely). But, I believe it made the other patrons at the coffee shop a bit nervous upon seeing the 6’4″, 250-lb weeping man. Hauerwas says, “Few of us have the gift to tell the story of our suffering in a manner that enables us to share it with others. The gift as well as the burden of the artist is to be able to tell the story so that others may have some idea of what his or her suffering is like.” Though DeVries’ story isn’t biographical, it is authentic.
There are a few tremendous scenes played out with the main character dealing with his atheism and belief. Some terrific lines that paint a very vivid struggle that many of us today struggle. Hauerwas doesn’t add much commentary in telling the story. He wants, for now, the story to first be told. It ends with the protagonist lamenting the desolation of reality without his daughter, “Again the throb of compassion rather than the breath of consolation: the recognition of how long, how long is the mourners’ bench upon which we sit, arms linked in undeluded friendship, all of us, brief links, ourselves, in the eternal pity.”
Junia is Not Alone Notes
State Street has been working through the book of Colossians the last few weeks months. It’s been a very fruitful study in the life of a young church to hear Paul’s words to a young church. Last week I handed off the baton to my friend and fellow State Street’er Jonny Schult who carefully took us through Colossians 3:18-4:1. I commented, somewhat jokingly, that I like to farm out any and all difficult exegetical texts to other, brighter thinkers than myself. This text, specifically, is one that takes careful hermeneutical responsibility and care to “get it right”. And, I believe Jonny did just that. You can watch Jonny’s message on this Colossians text on our website.
I haven’t always been committed to affirming women in ministry (technically – the egalitarian position). Honestly, I can understand the expository explanation that goes against what I believe to be true now. There are people at State Street that might disagree with my interpretation (fortunately, we still love each other). But, a few things over time led me to change my opinion on the matter and even led me to be a stronger advocate for this issue. Over the next few months at State Street, we will have two very knowledgeable and gifted women teach (or, preach if you dare). I’m not only proud of them for agreeing to teach, but I’m excited to sit under their tutelage.
So, what changed in me that became pro-women-in-ministry? A few things:
1. Seeing tremendous women of God being used in real ways. At my first internship (whilst I was still a senior in high school), I was honored to learn and study from a woman named Deb Lampton. She was our children’s pastor but very much had a teaching capacity/gift. I learned quite a bit about ministry, God, and the Church from her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has the giftedness to lead in powerful ways in God’s community. I’ve also been friends with people that have pastors, ministry students, and coincidentally, women. They were theologically, intellectually, and spiritually my equal (if not, more so). Women like Joann Kaiser, Carol Goodrich, Linda Belleville, and others come to mind. An emotion and personal connection to a conviction shouldn’t be primary in making up one’s mind, but it definitely plays a part when choosing one’s belief.
2. Many of the teachers in my life have been convinced egalitarians. I credit many (if not most) of my theology and philosophy professors at Bethel College in challenging me with another way to look at gender equality. For them, it wasn’t just a left/right, liberal/conservative, Missionary Church/other denomination look at an issue. It started by being theologically honest and intentioned. Their love for Christ was evident. I am still honored to consider myself their student (I’m not always sure they’ll claim me as a student!)
3. I admitted, finally, that biblical interpretation isn’t easy. For years, I attempted to systematically fit every philosophical, theological, scientific, and political issue into a safe box of beliefs. It wasn’t long before those beliefs got holes in them. Holes caused from an imperfect and incomplete biblical interpretation. Holes from trying to make the Bible into something it never intended to be. Holes from being convinced of an idea before seeking out a biblical understanding of the idea. Saying this convinces no one of the egalitarian (or complementarian) position. But, it was in this admittance that I started to seek answers again in the text. Finding a healthy and responsible method of interpretation became paramount in moving forward pastorally and theologically. And, caring about theology finally mattered. It wasn’t just, “the bible says this right here so it must be true!”, but instead looking at overall themes and movements.
4. I had a daughter. She said to me a year or so ago, “Daddy, I want to be just like you when I grow up.” I was left wondering, “Can she be?” Can my daughter do what I do? Can I encourage her to follow in my footsteps? Or, because we do not share in the same gender, does that preclude her from following in her dad’s footsteps?
I’m sure many other facts went in to discovering what I believe about gender issues, but those are perhaps the most important. I’m also indebted to some authors that played crucial points in my development. Two of the more popular and accessible ones are Ben Witherington, III and Scot McKnight. Through dealing with McKnight’s Blue Parakeet (which just so happened to also be our first State Street book club read), I was presented with the possibility of a more responsible method in biblical interpretation and, distinctly, issues in regards to women and the Church. McKnight also released a small e-book last year about the apostle Junia. It’s a simple read that will only take most readers 30-40 minutes to read. Yet, it’s still important.
Like most books I read, I open Evernote and take notes. Here are the notes from McKnight’s e-book Junia is Not Alone. I think it’s an appropriately time to list these notes especially in light of our recent discussions at State Street. This is not an exhaustive look at egalitarianism but an informative look at how we’ve treated Junia throughout history.
TITLE: Junia is Not Alone
AUTHOR: Scot McKnight
AMAZON LINK
Why Is the Church Silent about the Women of the Bible?
Huldah: famous prophet whom the teenage king Josiah chose to assess the Book of the Torah found in the temple. Huldah was the singular prophet who helped provoke Israel’s greatest revival.
We don’t talk enough in the Church about these women:
Miriam: the prophetic national music director
Esther: the dancing queen
Phoebe: the benefactor of Paul’s missions
Priscilla: the teacher
“Why do we consider the mother/wife of Proverbs 31 an ideal female image but shush the language of the romantic Shulammite woman of the Song of Songs? Why are we so obsessed with studying the “subordination” of women to men but not a woman like Deborah, who subordinated men and enemies? Why do we believe that we are called to live out Pentecost’s vision of Spirit-shaped life but ignore what Peter predicted would happen? That “[i]n the last days… your sons and daughters will prophesy . . .” and that “[e]ven on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my spirit.” – Scot McKnight
Why is there so much silence in the church about the women in the Bible?
Junia: Romans 16:7 (different interpretations have her as a man)
“Paul was not snickering with a mischievous look in his eye because he had just pulled off an incredible act of calling a woman an ‘apostle,’” McKnight affirmed. “He didn’t have a moment’s afterthought, because Junia was not alone [as the only female apostle].”
Junia Is Not Alone: How She Fits into the Bible
Eldon J. Epp in Junia: The First Woman Apostle concludes rightly…
(1) Junia was a woman.
(2) There is no evidence that any man had the name “Junias.”
(3) Junia is a not, as some have argued, a contracted name of Junianus.
(4) “Among the apostles” means Junia herself was an apostle and not simply that the apostles thought she was a good egg.
“Which means (because this is what apostles did) she was in essence a Christ-experiencing, Christ-representing, church-establishing, probably miracle-working, missionizing woman who preached the gospel and taught the church.” – McKnight
The Bible has a remarkable history of empowered women used to do beautifully redemptive acts. In other words, in the story of Israel, Junia would not be along as a powerful woman:
- Rebekah – made Jacob get inheritance and God to go along with her plan
- Ruth – persistence kept her in Israel/David’s lineage
- Esther – beauty queen who saved a whole nation
- Miriam – songwriter prophet
- Deborah – like a president, pope, and Rambo all in one
- Huldah – likely would be ranked the “top prophet” in Josiah’s days
- Mary – mother of Jesus
- Priscilla – taught Apollos
- Phoebe – a deacon, not a “deaconess”, possibly the first ever person to read the Letter to the Romans in person, the person responsible in answering questions after it was read (ie. the first commentator)
Junia Got a Sex Change
Why/how did Junia become a man? –> ”It happened, or can be illustrated, in Greek by changing the accent in an originally unaccented text from Jun-I-an to JuniAn. This change in accent led to the male name, JuniaS, the Anglicized form. But as Epp and others have shown, Junias is a man who didn’t exist with a name that didn’t exist in the ancient world.”
What has happened to Junia throughout history:
- All early translations of the New Testament into other languages listed Junia as a woman. From Tyndale to the last quarter of the 19th century in English translations, Junia was a woman.
- Some have suggested that Martin Luther might be the one on whom to pin the blame for the sex-change from Junia to Junias. Luther gave to the German name Juniam a masculine article (den Juniam [today, den Junias]). Then he said, “Andronicus and Junias were famous apostles” and were “men of note among the apostles.”
An important note about the Greek New Testament and interpretation: they [the Greek translations] are not the “original” New Testament. They are “composite” texts where one word was taken from one manuscript and another word from another manuscript.
So, how does determinations regarding the agreed-upon Greek happen? “Scholars examine ancient manuscripts and translations and liturgical texts and quotations from the Bible in sermons and books and then say, “This is what we think is most likely the earliest text we can reconstruct from all this evidence.” – McKnight
Now hear this – “…apart from one lesser known publication of the Greek New Testament, which had Junias in a footnote but not in the text, no Greek New Testament had anything but Junia, a woman’s name, until Nestle’s edition in 1927.” – McKnight
McKnight’s point about Nestle’s change: In changing her name and creating a new male name, Nestle buried Junia alive. Junia was a footnote until 1979 when she was erased completely be Kurt Aland. Junia went from buried in a footnote to not existing at all. Until the 1990′s, the two major Greek New Testament translator groups (Nestle/Aland and the United Bible Society) treated Junia as nonexistent or as a man.
“Let me be clear once more: The editors of Greek New Testaments killed Junia. They killed her by silencing her into non-existence. They murdered that innocent woman by erasing her from the footnotes.” - McKnight
In Being Silenced, Junia is Not Alone
The Church has a history of silencing women reformers. We are very familiar with the men that helped build the Church throughout history. But, we rarely talk about the women. Why don’t we know about:
- Marie Dentière – Roman Catholic turned Lutheran in 1500′s
- Phoebe Palmer – led 17000+ people to Christ
- Mary McCloud Bethune – daughter of American slaves, graduate of Moody Bible Institute, and founder of Bethune-Cookman University
Good news: “In 1998, the Jubilee Edition of Nestle-Aland and the UBS printed the same text. Junia is there, and Junias has disappeared. Junias was erased the way Junia was erased.”
In other words, no major Greek New Testament has Junia as a man. The consensus is that Junia was a woman in spite of getting it wrong for many years of the 20th century. If you’re Bible still has “Junias” in it, Greek scholars would disagree with it.
In Having a Voice, Junia is Not Alone
To be an apostle is something great. But to be outstanding among the apostles—just think what a wonderful song of praise that is! They were outstanding on the basis of their works and virtuous actions. Indeed, how great the wisdom of this woman must have been that she was even deemed worthy of the title of apostle. (In ep. ad Romanos 31.2) – John Chrysostom, roughly 344 AD
Theodoret, bishop of Cyrrhus, and John of Damascus: other proponents of Junia
“Many women today are active in ministry and are continuing with confidence and power the storied history of women in the Bible and the silenced history of women in the church.” – McKnight
How to Help the Church Find Its Junia(s)
Things we can do to help Junia:
- If your Bible has ‘Junias” in it, strike the ‘s’ out. “The man never existed, the name never existed, and it is an embarrassment to the church to have that name in a Bible.”
- Tell stories of women in the Bible that God used in beautiful ways.
I Miss My Friend | Brandon Hora Eulogy
I miss my friend. He was taken too early.
The other day I thought to myself, “I wish I wasn’t finished having conversations with Brandon Hora.” I know those thoughts are selfish. But, they’re also honest.
This thought is selfish because I know Brandon resides in a place without death, darkness, destruction, or perhaps most importantly, cancer. He is in the loving hands of his Maker. It’s the best of what is available to him. Cognitively, I know this.
This thought is selfish because I know that I gained more out of our relationship than I gave. It was November 10, 2010 when I sent Brandon a message telling him that he’s in my prayers and that I can’t imagine the emotionally, physically, and spiritually toll that cancer can bring to a person. He sent a message back asking if we could meet. He said that he was a bit scared and had some deeper questions about God that he wanted to ask.
As C.S. Lewis aptly said in a Grief Observed, “You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.” For Brandon, this had become very true.
On that first meeting at Mucho Mas, we talked for two hours about the cancer, his fears, our families, hockey, and I gave him seemingly inadequate answers about life and God. Yet, our friendship started.
At times, we were lucky to meet every two weeks. Other times we didn’t meet for eight weeks. As our conversations delved deeper into life with cancer, controversial treatments, and more hockey (of course), we started to share more life with each other. I’ve often wondered what our relationship would have been like had we known each other before he had cancer. I bet we’d still be friends. But, these were the cards that our friendship had been dealt. As the Death Cab for Cutie song What Sarah Said correctly states, “Love is watching someone die.”
He would talk about his love for Tiffiany and how he doesn’t worry about what will happen to her after he passes. He’d say, “If there’s anyone motivated to make it, it’s Tiff.” She’s tough, resourceful, and stubborn enough to not get defeated.
He’d talk about Eathen and Sofia and how he wanted to always let them know that he loved them and that he’d protect them. He loved being a dad. And, honestly, he was one of the best that I saw. If there was a vocation that Brandon had a tough time leaving, it was that of being a father.
He’d talk about his parents and grandparents and how he didn’t know if he adequately communicated to them how much he loves them. He would say, “We’re not much of a talking family, but I think they get it.” I’m sure they did.
He talked about his in-laws and how he had such a special relationship with them. He said if not for his parents or Tiff’s parents, he’s not sure if he would have been able to logistically battle cancer for three years. It was their unending support that was like a propeller moving him towards victory.
He would talk about how he wasn’t afraid of dying. Death didn’t scare him. Brandon just wasn’t scared of much. He was the toughest man I know. What saddened Brandon was that he didn’t get to experience more of life, his kids, his love for Tiff, or his genuine contentment in life. He lived the subtle nuance of knowing that the life-after is better but unknown. He said, “I know that in some way, being with God is going to be better. It has to be. But, I can’t imagine how.”
We talked a lot about music. And work. I would ask him about realty questions and he would go above and beyond in trying to help. That’s just Brandon’s approach to life. It wasn’t enough to meet a need, he had to go above and beyond to show that he cared.
I remember one conversation when Brandon tried to describe to me about what it was like living with cancer. He said, “Nate, I wake up every morning and go to bed every night knowing that something is trying to rob me of my life. It hurts physically, emotionally, and spiritually.” If there’s any celebration for my friend today, it’s that the pain is over.
I’ve been reminded lately of a text in the Gospel of John:
John 14:1-4
“Don’t let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus continued. “Trust God—and trust me, too! There is plenty of room to live in my father’s house. If that wasn’t the case, I’d have told you, wouldn’t I? I’m going to get a place ready for you! And if I do go and get a place ready for you, I will come back and take you to be with me, so that you can be there, where I am. And as to where I’m going—you know the way!”
It’s so hard right now to not let our hearts be troubled. Our friend is gone from this Earth. This seems like such a troubling time for all of us. I’ve learned, however, that these words can be some of the most comforting in all of scripture and its times like these when we need to hold on to them with all we have.
People so often say after someone has passed from this life, “He is in a better place now.” While I believe that is true it seems to only tell half the story. The truth is Brandon is in a better place now, but his passing has made this place less.
And so as you say good bye to your husband, father, son, brother and friend you are sad. Let’s be clear that the Bible teaches that we are not sad because of where Brandon is now located. We are sad because of where he isn’t located. He isn’t here with us.
Death can be such a heart wrenching experience because of the separation we fear. As C.S. Lewis said when grieving the loss of his wife, ”No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” In this passage from the Book of John that I read to you Jesus is comforting His disciples because He knew that they would no longer have Him with them in their community. But, through their fear and through the separation, Jesus promises community; I’m going to prepare a place for you.
There’s a story in the New Testament about Jesus losing a good friend of his. People were panicked and started asking Jesus why he didn’t act sooner to save their friend and brother. Jesus, entering in to the situation, does something profound; He wept. The same text reminds the readers that Jesus is the Life and the Resurrection. We know that. But, what perhaps we miss, is Jesus’ sentimental response to seeing His friend die; he burst into tears.
God doesn’t enjoy death. He mourns with us. Jesus came to declare victory over death for once and all. So, Brandon shares in that inheritance. He is in a place where there is no more death, darkness, disease, or cancer.
But for us now, we must know that Jesus weeps with us. And, he says, “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. I’m preparing a place for you as well. You know the way to get here, keep working it out.”
If Brandon were here today he would tell you, “keep going, I’m fine, finish the race that God has put you on. I’m home now.” It’s not so much about TeamHORA strong anymore, it’s about TeamHORA legacy. Run the race and finish it well.
Today, I miss my friend. But I celebrate that he is now home in the loving hands of Christ. May he rest in peace.
Here is a video that Brandon I recorded a few days before he walked into eternity:
My Favorite Places Around LaPorte, Indiana
It’s not a secret; I love LaPorte, Indiana. Though technically I lived in nearby Rolling Prairie for a good portion of my life and now live in South Bend, LaPorte feels like my home. Recently I had a conversation with a man that now lives in LaPorte after living and working in Michigan, Arizona, Colorado, and Illinois. When he and his wife were visiting LaPorte to find a house, they really loved the charm of the downtown, the beauty of the lakes, and the close proximity to Chicago. After living in LaPorte for four or five years, he noticed a few things.
1. It doesn’t seem LaPorte (and her government) has a great vision for what it can become or her inherit potential.
2. The people don’t seem to fully appreciate the assets of the area attractions.
Not wanting to contribute to this seeming ignorance of resources (or, so my acquaintence would claim), I thought I’d make a list of some of my favorite places in LaPorte (though I employ numerical values, pay no mind to it):
1. LaPorte County Historical Society Museum
–> this place is a forgotten gem in our community. One of my favorite attributes of LaPorte is her deep history. My friend Adam also tells me that this museum has one of the best car collections he’s ever seen (and he’s from California and in to cars). Check out their website here.
2. Hesston Steam Museum
–> this place is a bit sentimental to me. I remember going here as a kid an absolutely loving every minute. It’s been fun to watch the joy that my kids experience riding the trains as well. The admission is free to walk around. You just pay for each train that you ride. Check out their website here.
3. 2nd Saturdays | Downtown LaPorte
–> During the warmer months, there is a theme every second Saturday in downtown LaPorte. Many of the local businesses stay open later and participate in the theme. One of the Saturdays last year was “music” and there was singers/bands all over. I often look at the pictures from the 1930′s in LaPorte and see the remnants of a once-bustling small city (as seen above). 2nd Saturdays help me to get that feeling in real life. Check more out here.
4. Wilson’s Barbershop and Shave Parlor
–> As you might tell, I have a fascination with life from the 1920-1940′s. Possibly because I have such a high respect for people that were born and lived in that era. It’s just captivating to me to read about the history. Wilson’s reminds me much of what I perceive a barbershop being in that era; equal parts skilled barber to engaging social center. Even if you don’t need your haircut, it’s just a good place to visit and experience. Check them out online here.
5. Mucho Mas Fresh Mex Grill
–> Whenever I have a friend visit from out of town, I take them to Mucho Mas. Every person tells me about how much they love the restaurant/food. They also make mention about how hipster’ish LaPorte looks (nary a mention that Mucho Mas exhausts all hipsterism that exists in LaPorte). In the last two years, I’ve probably had more than my fair share of Mas. It’s a terrific establishment to be loyal. Take a look at their Facebook page for more info.
In addition to these things, I love the historic LaPorte Civic Auditorium, the LaPorte Little Theater, the local lakes, the old-time feel of B&J’s American Cafe and Temple News Agency, Rocky Mountain Cafe, and of course, State Street Community Church. This doesn’t include the richness of what the county has to offer; the beautiful Indiana Dunes, Prime Outlets, the great county parks, the quaint Potawatomi Zoo, and International Friendship Gardens (which has a Romanian section… bonus for my part-Romanian family).
All this to say – I like this community. I’m sure it’s not the greatest place to live in the world but I enjoy it. Our economy isn’t great and there are many concerns that should plague our local government(s) and leaders. But, it’s a good place with good people and a rich history. LaPorte is home for me and I’m proud of her.
I am a pastor at State Street.
I am a husband to Ema.
I am a father to Nora and Finn.
I am a lover of music. All sorts.
I am a follower of Christ.
I am flawed but hopeful.