Paul and replacement theology

I've been discussing so-called replacement theology with some friends recently. In short, its opponents tag the idea that "the church replaces Israel in God's plan" as replacement theology, even though this is probably an unfair simplification of a quite complex issue. I don't have time to write a treatise of my position (at the moment), so I'll merely share some thoughts that emerged from reading one little phrase in 1 Corinthians. I hereby affirm that I don't think I'm doing violence to the text or context by focusing only on these few words.

The topic is the monetary collection at the end of 1 Corinthians. Presumably the beneficiaries of the collection would be predominantly Jews, because they were poor Jesus followers in Judea. (Any Romans/Gentiles would probably be merchants or soldiers with enough income to get by.) Notice how Paul refers to them: "Now about the collection for the Lord's people."

What denotes "Lord's people"? Jesus followers in general? Nope. This is specifically about believers in Judea. Any believers in Judea? Not really. I don't think Paul was necessarily putting a burden on Christians throughout the empire merely because there were needy persons who were Christians who happened to live in Judea.

My understanding of this may not be completely solid, but I think there's something more going on here. I think "Lord's people" refers mainly to Jewish Messiah followers. But why the enigmatic special designation? Why not "Now about the collection for the Messiah followers in Judea"? At this early stage, it appears Paul had a appreciation for the Jewish ethnicity that brought us Jesus. They got a special designation that theologically could apply to all but really does apply to some specifically.

I don't think we could accuse this early Paul of rapacious replacement theology. He still did honor the Jewish ethnicity, even if "Israel" was already being redefined as anyone who followed Jesus.

Psalm

I'm taking a class on spiritual disciplines, and this week's project was to write a psalm. I take my inspiration from this Gungor song, and particularly from the album cover art.



Creator YHWH,
All things are yours;
All exists at your word.

You craft the delicate flower;
You form the mountain ranges.

By your love and pleasure
Beauty springs forth from the earth.

Your tiniest image begins to create;
You create creativity itself.


Creator YHWH,
All things rebel;
All antagonizes each.

Petals fall;
The crags quake.

Against your great love and care
The earth groans its dissent.

Your image conceives evil;
It unmakes that composed at your command.


Creator YHWH,
All things are made new;
All will praise your Name.

The disintegrated is knit together;
The twisted coalesces into beauty.

Because of your love and mercy
Your creation is restored.

You indwell your image
Who shares in maturing beauty.


Creator YHWH,
All things are yours;
All testifies to your glory.

Platonic button

I just realized that all the books that Amazon recommends for me are business books varying from crappy to somewhat respected. I was a bit shocked until I realized that I have been scouring this genre to search inside the books to verify bibliographic data for my job.

What if I want to see recommendations for books I actually want to read?

I propose a "platonic button." When I'm going to Amazon for strictly professional reasons, I click the button. Then when I'm done, I can click it again, assuming my next search is for something I would be genuinely interested in.

NFL gospel plan

I saw this gospel plan lead in on nfl.com yesterday.



I didn’t feel the gospel was presented very clearly. It was basically a chart, but what do you expect nowadays?

I did see that the Chiefs will be justified by works, if at all.

Happy December!

Hard to believe we're round to December again. Everybody talks about how fast time flies, but I have to chip in my affirmation.

Evadel is now one year old. She will not stop walking until she falls on the floor on her back with her arms outstretched.

I know all parents probably think their child is a genius. Theory: We have such low expectations of our little poop machines that when they start doing something uniquely human, we exclaim, "Omigosh, she's brilliant!" Granted, it is fun to see rudimentary cognition and refining motor skills, but I'm trying to change my perspective. I think I should expect geniusly human behavior in order to encourage her blossoming humanity, and I should delight in her progress. (Don't get me wrong; human babies are always human babies. I'm talking about features that make us unique from other species.) But I should not try to make Evadel be a Bible quiz bowl maven just to relive my glory days.

December brings me to four classes left in my Master's. Medication has helped me catch up at work to the point that I see a more human existence approaching on the horizon. Between school and work, I have precious little free time, so I savor the moments away from the busyness. But I'm very excited about the beginning of next summer when I will graduate and be totally caught up at work. It's going to be such a foreign experience to live a motivated life without terapascals of pressure.

I have a hunch that without all the craziness, daily/weekly observation of time will slow, and I may enjoy life more. It goes without saying that the pace of a monthly/annual/decadal observation of time seems to continue increasing with age.

Ignorance

You know how you listen to great music, the kind of song you have heard 38 times before, and then you hear a lyric that smacks you between the eyes? (That's a strange mixing of metaphor, I know.)

I've been paying attention to ignorance lately, particularly intentional ignorance. I listened to a great podcast on the topic today: Maxie Burch from rhinocrash.org. In iTunes, the date is 8/17/09 (and followup on 8/23/09, titled Tensions weeks 3 and 4). Maxie's theme is elephants in the room. He notes the very real spiritual aspect of them and how damaging ignorance is when we avoid issues/problems out of fear, anger, or pain. I highly recommend you listen to them.

So the song. I'm listening to Ben Folds, hoping some driving piano will help me feel motivated to work on my final papers for Amos and Hosea. In the song "Bastard," the relevant ignorance lines play:

Close your eyes, close your ears, young man;
You've seen and heard all an old man can;
Spread the facts on the floor like a fan;
Throw away the ones that make you feel bad.

That's a fascinating insight. While I think age brings valuable observation and experience, I believe it's true that most of us ignore the stuff that makes us feel bad. There are a lot of old men out there who could have become wise, solid characters through facing pain and processing reality. Instead, they anesthetized themselves by any number of means. Intentional ignorance. Ignoring the elephant in the room. So, young man, face the facts as they present themselves. Struggle through the pain, and you will grow into great character that can change the world, or at least the worlds of those around you.

One other line from the song that is helpful is, "It's okay if you don't know everything." That's an interesting juxtaposition with the idea of intentional ignorance. But if we process knowledge and life as they come, the passage of time will yield wisdom. And one of the keys to wisdom is recognizing that we will never know everything, or anything close to that. Know-it-alls (of whom I try my hardest not to be) tend to try to control knowledge. And another theme of life I've been contemplating is how destructive the impulse to control can be.

It's best to hold knowledge loosely, but it's destructive to hold your hands up saying, "No thanks."

Animals and the new creation

In the last 24 hours, I've become much more aware of the coming concord of the animal kingdom. We've been reading Isaiah, and the last quarter of the book treats the topic of the new creation quite extensively. The most famous reference occurs early in Isaiah and at the very end: the wolf and the lamb will lie down together without any chewing on the other, and the lion and the calf will be cool.

So the awareness I mentioned is odd. It comes from popular culture. I saw a commercial yesterday during K-State's sweet win over UCLA that had all sorts of "natural" enemies drinking from a watering hole together. It's a beautiful image. (The commercial was a failure in that I don't remember the advertiser, but at least I'm looking to find out who it was.) The other reference is in Cake's "Frank Sinatra," where they sing "the flies and spiders get along together." It's an odd choice of animals, but brilliant in its freestyle on the Isainic theme.

I eagerly anticipate the new creation, and it's fun that pop culture brings my spirit back to the idea in a moment when I'm not particularly paying attention to it.