The Ripple Effect

I started reading A.B. Bruce’s The Training of the Twelve, and it still has a lot to offer, even though it’s quite an old book. I’ve always liked the imagery of a rock dropped into a pond, with the ripples going out in ever-increasing circles. The story of Jesus’ apostles is a lot like that. What Bruce has done is to delve deeply into the Gospel accounts to find out how exactly Christ trained his apostles so effectively that they were able to start an entire movement not long after his death. What I found interesting were Bruce’s comments about Nathanael. He’s easy to overlook, since he doesn’t get too many verses in the Gospel of John. This is what he wrote:

The notices concerning Nathanael, Philip’s acquaintance, are more detailed and more interesting than in the case of any other of the five; and it is not a little surprising that we should be told so much in this place about one concerning whom we otherwise know almost nothing. …Be this as it may, we know on the best authority that Nathanael was a man of great moral excellence. No sooner had Jesus seen him than He exclaimed, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!” The words suggest the idea of one whose heart was pure; in whom was no doublemindedness, impure motive, pride, or unholy passion: a man of gentle, meditative spirit, in whose mind heaven lay reflected like the blue sky in a still lake on a calm summer day.

What I find so refreshing about Bruce’s commentary is that he is able to bring new insights into texts that have become perhaps overly familiar. Nathanael is the one, of course, who asks, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” At first glance, these words might strike us as sarcastic. But Bruce has a different take on them:

One hardly expects such prejudice in one so meek and amiable; and yet, on reflection, we perceive it to be quite characteristic. Nathanael’s prejudice against Nazareth sprung not from pride, as in the case of the people of Judea who despised the Galileans in general, but from humility. He was a Galilean himself, and as much an object of Jewish contempt as were the Nazarenes. His inward thought was, “Surely the Messiah can never come from among a poor despised people such as we are - from Nazareth or any other Galilean town or village!” He timidly allowed his mind to be biased by a current opinion originating in feelings with which he had no sympathy; a fault common to men whose piety, though pure and sincere, defers too much to human authority, and who thus become the slaves of sentiments utterly unworthy of them.

Because he is willing to take another look at the Gospels to see Jesus and his disciples in a new light, Bruce is thus able to draw original and relevant conclusions. Nathanael ought to be an example to the rest of us, Bruce says, because even though he has some preconceived religious ideas, he subjects them to honest investigation.

While Nathanael was not free from prejudices, he showed his guilelessness in being willing to have them removed. He came and saw. This openness to conviction is the mark of moral integrity. The guileless man dogmatizes not, but investigates, and therefore always comes right in the end. The man of bad, dishonest heart, on the contrary, does not come and see. Deeming it his interest to remain in his present mind, he studiously avoids looking at aught which does not tend to confirm his foregone conclusions. He may, indeed, profess a desire for inquiry, like certain Israelites of whom we read in this same Gospel, of another stamp than Nathanael, but sharing with him the prejudice against Galilee.

I’m left wondering, what would it take for me to be someone “in whom there is no guile”? A good place to begin would be to re-think so many of my religious conclusions that I have taken for granted, in the same way Nathanael was willing to. It seems to me that's an approach that began to catch on in a big way the wider the Christian circle spread out from the center.

Lighthouse

They warned me that this would happen, and I should have expected it. I work at a Rescue Mission, and they said that after awhile I would get attached to the guys who are in the program recovering from various addictions. That’s exactly what’s happened. As you might imagine, the turnover rate at such a place is awfully high. Sometimes the past catches up with the “programmers,” as they’re known (although I’ve never been fond of the term), and they end up having to finish out a jail sentence. Sometimes the strict schedule and rigid code of conduct is more than they want to put up with. The ones who don’t successfully complete the recovery program either leave or are dismissed, and then others come and take their place.

My job is to help the ones who dropped out of high school to prepare for the GED tests. For those who’ve already got a diploma (or its equivalent), I help refresh their skills so they can make the transition back into the workforce.

I’ve been at the Rescue Mission for about a year now. I’ve got a long list in front of me of all the guys in the program I’ve worked with so far. It’s been a privilege to listen to every one of their stories. They’re regular people, and they’ve made their share of mistakes just like all the rest of us have. At certain points along the line, our stories seem to intersect. Everyone there (including me) can testify that drugs never did them any favors. At other points, our stories diverge, often going in opposite directions. I’m glad I didn’t have to completely hit bottom before getting my life turned around. At the same time, I’ve got no reason to look down on anybody who did.

The occupational hazard has always been that I would eventually become not just their teacher but their friend. I think a lot about how far they’ve dreamed of going and how far they’ve left their past behind.

Randy and Eddie are the two who were around when I first started. Randy was a farmer a few years older than me whose life was practically destroyed by meth. He graduated from the program in May. Eddie has always wanted to design lowriders. He’s going to college for the first time in his life next Monday.

One Kevin has been a butcher for many of his 34 years, but he is determined to become a hunting and fishing guide, and I think he’s going to get there one day. The other Kevin has always worked on trains. Because of his patience and persistence, he’s going to start earning his certificate in diesel mechanics in January.

Then there’s the new guys. Some of them seem to be in it for the long haul. Some of them don’t make it. No, not every one of the men has a miraculous success story to tell, but thank God, they don’t all end up back in a downward spiral to relapse, either.

I still worry about Todd, who has a passion for horses and was a very successful jockey for awhile. He had to deal with some stuff at home and so he left. This week, Lynn, the ex-hockey player with a hilarious sense of humor, had to go, and it’s been sad, to say the least. I’m reminded of him every day because we’re still keeping his dog. I realize that the only constant anymore seems to be change, but that doesn’t make saying goodbye much easier.

Macbeth

My wife and I went to see Macbeth last night, and to be honest, I was looking forward to it about as much as getting my teeth cleaned. I wished I wouldn’t have waited until intermission to read the program – during the first 90 minutes I was completely lost trying to figure out what was going on. Yes, it has been that long since I had to read the script in high school. For that matter, I might have even just skimmed the Cliffs Notes back then. Although I loved being able to see the play outside on a warm August evening, it didn’t help much that I was perched on a tree root for most of the performance.

That’s not to say that the Idaho Shakespeare Festival folks didn’t do a great job with the production, because they did. It just seems as if a 400-year old play can be something to be endured more so than enjoyed. Shakespeare was one of the Great Authors, who wrote a few of the Great Books, which many of us read because we feel obligated to contemplate the Great Ideas. It’s good for you, like spinach.

I like what Greg Nagan, in The 5-Minute Iliad and Other Instant Classics, has to say in this regard:

…if you don’t familiarize yourself with the themes and ideas of the Great Books, you’re going to lead a miserable life and die. You’ll probably lead a miserable life and die anyway, but an acquaintance with the Great Books can help you understand your misery and death in a broader context. That’s got to count for something.

As far as Nagan is concerned, Shakespeare “was invented in order that the British would have someone impressive to quote.”

But seriously, and all ranting aside, I did come away with a lot to think about last night, thanks to the Weird Sisters. These are the three witches in the play who predict Macbeth’s rise to become King of Scotland. Maybe you remember the lines: "Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble, blah, blah, blah."

In the Idaho Statesman review, Dana Oland described them this way: “Their animalistic quality and birdlike demeanor give them a magical and fascinating presence.”

Magical, fascinating…and pretty freaking bizarre, if you ask me. Apparently, the inspiration for these characters came from Japanese Noh theater, in which ghosts and deities play familiar roles. Seeing them hobble around on what looked like stilts, and covered with black capes and white face paint, was downright creepy.

Anyway, the keys to the entire play are the predictions made of Macbeth’s “fateful” ascension to power. To what extent did the words of the Weird Sisters create evil desire in the heart of “the Scottish king”? How did his belief in the inevitability of their fulfillment lead him to his tragic end? Were they supposed to be actual predictions (as with the oracles in the plays of ancient Greece) or were they instead warnings (as with the spirits in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol)?

I don't know the answers to those questions, exactly. I couldn’t help but be reminded, though, of Jesus’ saying in Mark 4:24. He tells his disciples, simply but directly, “Take care what you listen to.” In other words, if you happen to encounter three phantoms along the road guaranteeing you power and immortality, it’s best to keep on walking.

Stalker's The Life of Jesus Christ

I’ve been re-reading parts of The Life of Jesus Christ by James Stalker recently, and I’ve been happily surprised to find that there’s a lot to like about this little book. Since it was written so many years ago, I must admit I was expecting flowery prose and archaic terminology. Instead, Stalker clearly and concisely (although not as shortly and sweetly as the Gospels themselves, of course!) describes in detail the entire life of Christ, and the end result is a coherent, readable biography.

Consider one of Stalker’s observations, concerning the “wise men” that came from the east:

We know also from the calculations of the great astronomer Kepler, that at this very time there was visible in the heavens a brilliant temporary star. Now the Magi were ardent students of astrology and believed that any unusual phenomenon in the heavens was the sign of some remarkable event on earth; and it is possible that, connecting this star, to which their attention would undoubtedly be eagerly directed, with the expectation mentioned by the ancient historians, they were led westward to see if it had been fulfilled.

All I remember from my youth about the Magi was the Christmas carol “We Three Kings,” and the little plaster figurines that went with our Nativity set. But this story has taken on much greater significance for me since then. I’ve taken to heart the fact that the wise men “came from the east.”

In high school, I was making a spiritual pilgrimage in the opposite direction: I was convinced that western traditions had nothing to offer, that Christianity in particular was shallow and hypocritical, and that genuine wisdom could only be discovered in the east. In short, what I was seeking was some sort of affirmation of my own essential divinity.

A similar search may have motivated the writing of a book called The Lost Years of Jesus. In it, Jesus (during the “silent years”) was supposed to have headed east, as well, so as to sit at the feet of gurus. The result was that an enlightened Jesus, upon his return to Judea, was then able to offer pearls of wisdom to his followers like “Take my yoga upon you” (the title of one of the chapters in Lost Years).

And yet, the wise men came from the east, to acknowledge something (or someone) much greater than they had ever encountered. It wasn’t the other way around. Stalker warns against reading too much into the “silent years” of Jesus. The idea that Jesus went to India to study Hinduism is the kind of wild speculation that he would most certainly reject.

What the story has come to mean for me is that, in a sense, I’ve followed in the footsteps of the Magi. Now, I’m definitely not saying I am (or ever was) a wise man! Transcendental Meditation, half-hearted attempts at yoga, and a sort of “ala carte” version of Buddhism didn’t exactly qualify me for that role. What I am saying, though, is that acknowledging Jesus, and coming to worship him as the Magi did, meant I had to abandon that sense of “essential divinity” I had hoped to find within myself.

Stalker continues:

But there must also have been awakened in them a deeper want, to which God responded. If their search began in scientific curiosity and speculation, God led it on to the perfect truth. That is His way always. Instead of making tirades against the imperfect, He speaks to us in the language we understand, even if it express His meaning very imperfectly, and guides us thereby to the perfect truth. Just as He used astrology to lead the world to astronomy, and alchemy to conduct it to chemistry, and as the Revival of Learning preceded the Reformation, so He used the knowledge of these men, which was half falsehood and superstition, to lead them to the Light of the world. Their visit was a prophecy of how in the future the Gentile world would hail His doctrine and salvation, and bring its wealth and talents, its science and philosophy, to offer at His feet.

Looking back on my teenage wanderings, I’d estimate that my “knowledge” then was almost entirely “falsehood and superstition”, not just half. And I’m still learning, trying to replace falsehoods with truth. “He speaks to us in the language we understand.” For the Magi, it was a star. For me, it was reading the four Gospels for the very first time as a freshman in college. God’s intention still is, and always has been, as Stalker puts it so simply, to “guide us thereby to the perfect truth.”

The Dog Ate My Kindle!

My family was kind enough to get me a Kindle for Father's Day this year. The dog ate it (part of it, at least, and the part that made it work) last Wednesday.

There are very few material possessions that I hold near and dear to my heart. One is my Gatorland hat. I managed to lose the first one of those on a rafting trip, so we had to pick up another when we were out in Florida a few years ago.

But another such possession is my Kindle. In seven short weeks, I've probably done more book reading than I have in the previous seven months. It's that portable and that convenient. I'm the least tech savvy one in our whole family, but I've been absolutely amazed at how easy it's been to learn to use this device. I've put up with reading e-books on a computer screen when there's been no other alternative, but I've never actually enjoyed doing so. The Kindle has changed all that. The screen is a pleasure to look at and no strain on my eyes.

Imagine my chagrin, then, when I got an email from my wife saying that the dog had chewed it to pieces. Here's the crime scene:





And here is the criminal:




All I did was leave it on the coffee table the night before. It's not as if I put it in his dog dish and sprinkled cheese all over it. Maybe he was just jealous that I was spending more time reading than throwing him his chew toy in the backyard.

For whatever reason, Yukon Cornelius (yes, like the prospector's name in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer) turned his nose up at the delicious leather cover, and chose instead to put teeth marks all over the Kindle screen. After putting the pieces back together and picking out all the black hairs, we tried to get it to light up again, but to no avail. Yukon suffered no ill effects, by the way, although he did pretend to look at least a little bit sorry.

It's a good thing that Amazon has lowered the price on these things, because I'm counting the days until the replacement comes.

Bad dog!