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233 reviews
And God Created Laughter: The Bible as Divine Comedy by Conrad Hyers
4.0
This book was an enjoyable read (it is a book on comedy and the Bible, after all)! Conrad Hyers recognizes the importance of the comic in the Christian life, and offers this short book as a helpful way in which to reintroduce the “foolishness” and the joy of the gospel. The penultimate chapter, in which Hyers analyzes the story of Jonah as a comic satire, is the high point of this work.
Unfortunately, Hyers does not provide any sort of definition of “comedy” or “comic.” Defining these terms would have been helpful, because the meaning of the terms are not necessarily self-evident. Is the Bible a comedy in the sense that it should make one laugh, or is it a comedy in the sense that it ends on a happy/high note (or both)? Also, while the subtitle of the book implies that the focus will be on the Bible and it’s comic features, apart from the chapter on Jonah, there is no detailed treatment of comic aspects of other biblical narratives, and no discussion of the ways in which the biblical authors used certain literary devices to create a work of comedy.
Still, Hyers’s work is important and illuminating, and one would do well to give it a read.
Unfortunately, Hyers does not provide any sort of definition of “comedy” or “comic.” Defining these terms would have been helpful, because the meaning of the terms are not necessarily self-evident. Is the Bible a comedy in the sense that it should make one laugh, or is it a comedy in the sense that it ends on a happy/high note (or both)? Also, while the subtitle of the book implies that the focus will be on the Bible and it’s comic features, apart from the chapter on Jonah, there is no detailed treatment of comic aspects of other biblical narratives, and no discussion of the ways in which the biblical authors used certain literary devices to create a work of comedy.
Still, Hyers’s work is important and illuminating, and one would do well to give it a read.
Live No Lies: Resisting the World, the Flesh, and the Devil in the Modern Age by John Mark Comer
4.0
John Mark Comer’s recent book, “Live No Lies,” is an important and helpful resource for anyone trying to follow Jesus. In it, he simply provides an overview of what he calls the “three enemies of the soul”: the devil, the flesh, and the world. Ultimately, Comer admonishes readers to take the Christian life seriously, recognizing that following Jesus means saying “no” to the lies of the devil and our own disordered desires.
The book is very accessible, and Comer writes from primarily a pastoral point of view, while also drawing heavily from the fields of psychology, sociology, and theology. My biggest takeaway was Comer’s idea that “spiritual disciplines are spiritual warfare”; spiritual warfare is more about prayer, fasting, confession, and meditation on Scripture than anything else.
The book is very accessible, and Comer writes from primarily a pastoral point of view, while also drawing heavily from the fields of psychology, sociology, and theology. My biggest takeaway was Comer’s idea that “spiritual disciplines are spiritual warfare”; spiritual warfare is more about prayer, fasting, confession, and meditation on Scripture than anything else.
The Art of Divination in the Ancient Near East: Reading the Signs of Heaven and Earth by Stefan M. Maul
4.0
This book is a fascinating, well-researched, and expertly-written examination of the widespread and popular practice(s) of divination in the ancient Near East (ANE). Stefan M. Maul gives special attention to extispicy, but he also touches on the importance of other practices, such as astrology (which rose to prominence especially in the Neo-Assyrian period). Not only does the book provide a very helpful resource on divinatory practices in the ANE, especially among the Mesopotamians, but it seeks to put on display the "scientific" tendencies inherent in these practices and their practitioners.
In the ANE, much political, national, and religious trust was placed not only in the art of divination, but in the "seers" and "scribes" who practiced such art(s). Maul likens “the confidence possessed by ancient Near Eastern rulers in their diviners’ ability to acquire knowledge” to “our modern confidence that the political decisions most likely to succeed have recourse to the expertise of scientists with relevant academic training" (8). While modern readers may find the entire enterprise superstitious and nonsensical, Maul contends that "[i]t seems rather to have been the cradle of today’s scientific culture" (260). One may still deem divination a "thing of the past," and Maul is quick to recognize that "from a contemporary vantage point," attempting to uncover the "trajectory of world events" simply "from celestial phenomena" or from "severely deformed stillbirths or through minute inspection of a sliver of meat" is, in a word, "preposterous" (253).
And yet, the question that Maul both begins his book with, and with which he leaves his readers at the end, is this: How is it that such a preposterous enterprise "did not foster chaos and decline” in the empires of the ANE, but rather, was "able to maintain political stability over the course of millennia" (9)? Many potential answers could be given in response to this question, but Maul's answer is that what these "prognostic procedure[s]" did was "foster effectiveness and stimulate reflection on plans and their realization," for they "regularly required rational reflection upon the current political, military, and economic situation[,] ... generating thereby an atmosphere of political vigilance" (256-257). As a result, the rulers and leaders of the ANE empires revisited, time and again, their most important decisions and political maneuvers; the art of divination "necessitated the ever-renewed study of the administration, army, and security serves," so much so that "it was impossible for even persons of the highest rank to exempt themselves from scrutiny of their area of responsibility" (257). Such attention to detail and alertness must have helped to foster an atmosphere of excellence and attentiveness in the upper echelons of royal ANE power, which, undoubtedly, aided in the success of these kings and their kingdoms.
Above all, this book was an enjoyable and thought-provoking read, but it would be a difficult one to recommend to others, except for those who are particularly interested in the behaviors and (religious and political) beliefs and practices of the people who lived in the ANE. The book is very academic in its content, but it is well-written, and includes a number of illustrations and pictures throughout, which may make it an easier read for some.
In the ANE, much political, national, and religious trust was placed not only in the art of divination, but in the "seers" and "scribes" who practiced such art(s). Maul likens “the confidence possessed by ancient Near Eastern rulers in their diviners’ ability to acquire knowledge” to “our modern confidence that the political decisions most likely to succeed have recourse to the expertise of scientists with relevant academic training" (8). While modern readers may find the entire enterprise superstitious and nonsensical, Maul contends that "[i]t seems rather to have been the cradle of today’s scientific culture" (260). One may still deem divination a "thing of the past," and Maul is quick to recognize that "from a contemporary vantage point," attempting to uncover the "trajectory of world events" simply "from celestial phenomena" or from "severely deformed stillbirths or through minute inspection of a sliver of meat" is, in a word, "preposterous" (253).
And yet, the question that Maul both begins his book with, and with which he leaves his readers at the end, is this: How is it that such a preposterous enterprise "did not foster chaos and decline” in the empires of the ANE, but rather, was "able to maintain political stability over the course of millennia" (9)? Many potential answers could be given in response to this question, but Maul's answer is that what these "prognostic procedure[s]" did was "foster effectiveness and stimulate reflection on plans and their realization," for they "regularly required rational reflection upon the current political, military, and economic situation[,] ... generating thereby an atmosphere of political vigilance" (256-257). As a result, the rulers and leaders of the ANE empires revisited, time and again, their most important decisions and political maneuvers; the art of divination "necessitated the ever-renewed study of the administration, army, and security serves," so much so that "it was impossible for even persons of the highest rank to exempt themselves from scrutiny of their area of responsibility" (257). Such attention to detail and alertness must have helped to foster an atmosphere of excellence and attentiveness in the upper echelons of royal ANE power, which, undoubtedly, aided in the success of these kings and their kingdoms.
Above all, this book was an enjoyable and thought-provoking read, but it would be a difficult one to recommend to others, except for those who are particularly interested in the behaviors and (religious and political) beliefs and practices of the people who lived in the ANE. The book is very academic in its content, but it is well-written, and includes a number of illustrations and pictures throughout, which may make it an easier read for some.
The Old Testament Is Dying: A Diagnosis and Recommended Treatment by Brent A. Strawn
4.0
In this provocative book, Old Testament scholar Brent Strawn argues that the the Old Testament is dying. In order to make such a case, Strawn likens the Old Testament to a language—and just as languages can die out, either because of disuse or misuse, so Strawn argues that the Old Testament can also die out, primarily because of disuse and misuse. A number of chapters in Strawn’s book deal with what he calls “pidginized” or “creolized” versions of the Old Testament—i.e., versions of or ways of speaking about the Old Testament that do not do justice to the “full language” of the Old Testament. He discusses the arguments leveled against the Old Testament by the “New Atheists,” such as Richard Dawkins (chap. 4), as well as goes back all the way to Marcion in the Early Church, only to note the ways in which Marcionism is rearing its head again in our churches today (chap. 5). He also points to a number of “word of faith” and “prosperity gospel” preachers and teachers, all of whom, he argues, are also not speaking the “full language” of Scripture, but a dumbed-down (or pidginized) version of Scripture (chap. 6).
The last section of the book (chaps. 7–9) offers some recommendations for how to keep the Old Testament from dying, pulling from the realm of linguistics and language-learning, as well as from the book of Deuteronomy. Strawn proposes that the most effective way to keep the Old Testament from dying in the churches of North America, as well as elsewhere, is by repeated and regular use of the Old Testament. This, however, must be coupled with use that is memorable, and that does justice to the Old Testament. I especially appreciated Strawn’s discussion about (and warnings against) running to the New Testament too quickly in order to somehow “solve” Old Testament problems. In many regards, the New Testament is just as nuanced and has as many difficulties as the Old Testament, and it will not do to simply pit the Old Testament God against the New Testament Jesus.
All in all, Strawn’s book is an important and insightful read. He does not simply provide a sobering look at the (mis- and dis)use of the Old Testament in North America today, but also provides a way forward that is helpful and instructive, as well as hopeful. What we need is more and more Christians who are willing and ready to move beyond “baby talk” when it comes to the Old Testament, and who desire to attain full literacy and fluency in the language of the Old Testament.
The last section of the book (chaps. 7–9) offers some recommendations for how to keep the Old Testament from dying, pulling from the realm of linguistics and language-learning, as well as from the book of Deuteronomy. Strawn proposes that the most effective way to keep the Old Testament from dying in the churches of North America, as well as elsewhere, is by repeated and regular use of the Old Testament. This, however, must be coupled with use that is memorable, and that does justice to the Old Testament. I especially appreciated Strawn’s discussion about (and warnings against) running to the New Testament too quickly in order to somehow “solve” Old Testament problems. In many regards, the New Testament is just as nuanced and has as many difficulties as the Old Testament, and it will not do to simply pit the Old Testament God against the New Testament Jesus.
All in all, Strawn’s book is an important and insightful read. He does not simply provide a sobering look at the (mis- and dis)use of the Old Testament in North America today, but also provides a way forward that is helpful and instructive, as well as hopeful. What we need is more and more Christians who are willing and ready to move beyond “baby talk” when it comes to the Old Testament, and who desire to attain full literacy and fluency in the language of the Old Testament.
The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society by Henri J.M. Nouwen
3.0
Henri J. M. Nouwen’s famous work “The Wounded Healer” is a hopeful and helpful read, especially for those hoping to be Christian ministers or leaders—specifically in roles such as pastors, counselors, teachers, priests, etc.
At first, I was not sure exactly where Nouwen was taking his readers, and although the first three chapters included helpful case studies, and insight from Nouwen, I still was left wanting. The closing chapter, which focuses specifically on the theme of the book—that is, the wounded healer—helped me in my journey through Nouwen’s book, for in it he ties in the three chapters prior and is able to shed even more helpful light on the subject of being a Christian minister, healer, and self-proclaimed wounded human being.
Nouwen recognizes that the way to true healing and to new creation may very well be through our own wounds and our own stories of pain and suffering. Indeed, is this not the way in which Christ reconciled all things to himself?
At first, I was not sure exactly where Nouwen was taking his readers, and although the first three chapters included helpful case studies, and insight from Nouwen, I still was left wanting. The closing chapter, which focuses specifically on the theme of the book—that is, the wounded healer—helped me in my journey through Nouwen’s book, for in it he ties in the three chapters prior and is able to shed even more helpful light on the subject of being a Christian minister, healer, and self-proclaimed wounded human being.
Nouwen recognizes that the way to true healing and to new creation may very well be through our own wounds and our own stories of pain and suffering. Indeed, is this not the way in which Christ reconciled all things to himself?
The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James H. Cone
5.0
James Cone's [b:The Cross and the Lynching Tree|12417679|The Cross and the Lynching Tree|James H. Cone|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1349011636l/12417679._SX50_.jpg|17399595] deals with the complex relationship between the cross of Jesus and the lynching tree in America, "the essential symbol of Christianity and the quintessential emblem of black suffering" (154). Cone walks his readers through the horrific history and reality of lynching in America, fueled by racism (chap. 1), noting the hypocrisy of America as a "Christian" nation, and of Christian theology in America, which has never adequately dealt with "white supremacy, its primary negation" (xvii).
Representative of American Christian theology is Reinhold Niebuhr, who is referred to by some as "America's theologian," and who is the subject of Cone's second chapter. Although impressed by much of Niebuhr's theology and ethical teaching, Cone is quick to call attention to Niebuhr's refusal to deal seriously with racial injustice and white supremacy. Cone rightly critiques Niebuhr's lack of "empathy regarding black suffering in the white community" (57), which is what kept Niebuhr from making a theological and symbolic connection between the cross and the lynching tree. What Niebuhr in particular, and white American theologians in general, failed to recognize, however, Martin Luther King, Jr., did (chap. 3), as did many black poets, artists, singers, and literary giants (chap. 4). These two chapters are, for me, the high points of the book, in which Cone examines the theology and praxis of King (chap. 3), as well as the connections made between Jesus' suffering and black suffering in the black literary tradition (chap. 4). The latter chapter shows the need for prophetic artistic voices in theological work. According to Cone, "Only artists and writers wrestled with the deep religious meaning of the ‘strange fruit’ that littered the American landscape" (95). It was only black creatives and artists—like Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, and W. E. B. Du Bois—who understood that Christ was the "first lynchee." Concerning these artists, Cone writes, “Artists force us to see things we do not want to look at because they make us uncomfortable with ourselves and the world we have created” (117).
Cone brings his book to a close by discussing the important journalistic work of Ida B. Wells in drawing attention to lynching (chap. 5), while also wrestling with the meaning of suffering, as expressed most tragically in the cross and the lynching tree (chap. 5 and Conclusion). Cone makes it clear that he "find[s] nothing redemptive about suffering in itself"; rather, he contends that "[w]hat is redemptive is the faith that God snatches victory out of defeat, life out of death, and hope out of despair, as revealed in the biblical and black proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection" (150). For Cone, Jesus' suffering on the cross is a great paradox, which put on display the evil and senselessness of violence against the innocent, but also the power (in weakness) of God, who is able to bring good out of the worst evil.
By explicitly drawing attention to the relationship between the Roman cross and the American lynching tree, Cone opens up an important, yet difficult, conversation about the reality of black suffering in America, as well as the inability of many white Christian theologians and preachers to see Christ in their black brothers and sisters, and to see their suffering in relation to Christ's suffering (see Matthew 25:31-46). Cone writes, "the lynching tree [helps] to remind Americans of the reality of suffering—to keep the cross from becoming a symbol of abstract, sentimental piety," while the cross "points in the direction of hope, the confidence that there is a dimension to life beyond the reach of the oppressor" (161–162). Both should and must be held together and understood in light of one another. This book is a must-read, and one that I will return to many times.
Representative of American Christian theology is Reinhold Niebuhr, who is referred to by some as "America's theologian," and who is the subject of Cone's second chapter. Although impressed by much of Niebuhr's theology and ethical teaching, Cone is quick to call attention to Niebuhr's refusal to deal seriously with racial injustice and white supremacy. Cone rightly critiques Niebuhr's lack of "empathy regarding black suffering in the white community" (57), which is what kept Niebuhr from making a theological and symbolic connection between the cross and the lynching tree. What Niebuhr in particular, and white American theologians in general, failed to recognize, however, Martin Luther King, Jr., did (chap. 3), as did many black poets, artists, singers, and literary giants (chap. 4). These two chapters are, for me, the high points of the book, in which Cone examines the theology and praxis of King (chap. 3), as well as the connections made between Jesus' suffering and black suffering in the black literary tradition (chap. 4). The latter chapter shows the need for prophetic artistic voices in theological work. According to Cone, "Only artists and writers wrestled with the deep religious meaning of the ‘strange fruit’ that littered the American landscape" (95). It was only black creatives and artists—like Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, and W. E. B. Du Bois—who understood that Christ was the "first lynchee." Concerning these artists, Cone writes, “Artists force us to see things we do not want to look at because they make us uncomfortable with ourselves and the world we have created” (117).
Cone brings his book to a close by discussing the important journalistic work of Ida B. Wells in drawing attention to lynching (chap. 5), while also wrestling with the meaning of suffering, as expressed most tragically in the cross and the lynching tree (chap. 5 and Conclusion). Cone makes it clear that he "find[s] nothing redemptive about suffering in itself"; rather, he contends that "[w]hat is redemptive is the faith that God snatches victory out of defeat, life out of death, and hope out of despair, as revealed in the biblical and black proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection" (150). For Cone, Jesus' suffering on the cross is a great paradox, which put on display the evil and senselessness of violence against the innocent, but also the power (in weakness) of God, who is able to bring good out of the worst evil.
By explicitly drawing attention to the relationship between the Roman cross and the American lynching tree, Cone opens up an important, yet difficult, conversation about the reality of black suffering in America, as well as the inability of many white Christian theologians and preachers to see Christ in their black brothers and sisters, and to see their suffering in relation to Christ's suffering (see Matthew 25:31-46). Cone writes, "the lynching tree [helps] to remind Americans of the reality of suffering—to keep the cross from becoming a symbol of abstract, sentimental piety," while the cross "points in the direction of hope, the confidence that there is a dimension to life beyond the reach of the oppressor" (161–162). Both should and must be held together and understood in light of one another. This book is a must-read, and one that I will return to many times.
Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination by Eugene H. Peterson
4.0
[b:Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination|989104|Reversed Thunder The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination|Eugene H. Peterson|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1384259177l/989104._SY75_.jpg|974597] is a pastoral, thoughtful, and exegetically/theologically responsible study of the Book of Revelation. Each chapter focuses on a different theme/topic in the Revelation (e.g., judgment, salvation, politics, worship, etc.), while also moving chronologically through the entire biblical book. Peterson's approach is primarily pastoral, as he seeks to make the message(s) of the Revelation accessible to all Christians who are willing to listen, and he does so in a way that does not lend itself to hysteria, timetables/lines, and code-cracking, all of which are typical in many pastoral treatments of the Bible's last book. Because of Peterson's pastoral lens, there are many things about/in the Revelation that he does not interact with, at least explicitly, and yet, Peterson's book is, by no means, superficial, and there is much to glean from it, whether one is a layperson, a student, a pastor, or a scholar.
Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony by Hauerwas Stanley, William H. Willimon
4.0
[b:Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony|23211553|Resident Aliens Life in the Christian Colony|Stanley Hauerwas|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1421788289l/23211553._SY75_.jpg|139981], co-authored by Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon, is an important text, and clearly one that has made a great impact in the fields of both theology and ethics, and on the church. Two of the primary aims of the book are to offer a different way of interacting with the world, and to emphasize the importance of "church" in Christian ethics. The authors argue that "that the political task of Christians is to be the church rather than to transform the world" (38), and that the way in which the church "serve[s] the world [is] by showing it something that it is not" (83), thereby enabling the world to understand what it is, that it is in need of being redeemed (94). According to Hauerwas and Willimon, the "way for the world to know that it needs redeeming … is for the church to enable the world to strike hard against something which is an alternative to what the world offers" (94).
Hauerwas and Willimon critique the approach of both liberal and conservative Christians to transform the world, which they view as essentially being the same approach, because both the left and the right are in "agreement that we should use our democratic power in a responsible way to make the world a better place in which to live” (37). For the authors, such an approach is "Constantinian" and "accommodationist" (31, 37); they "see little difference between the originating positions of liberals or conservatives," for both the left and the right "assume that the political significance of the church lies in assisting the secular state in its presumption to make a better world for its citizens" (156). Rather, Hauerwas and Willimon argue, Christians should "influence the world by being the church, that is, by being something the world is not and can never be" (46); any other approach results in the church becoming a chaplain to the state, upholding and embracing the culture in an attempt to "underwrite American democracy" (32).
Because of the authors' conviction that the church must be central to Christian ethics, a handful of the book's chapters deal specifically with and speak directly to those in ministry. Many of these chapters not only include the wisdom and reflection of the authors, but also a number of interesting examples from parish life, especially within mainline Protestant denominations (to which both of the authors belong).
Anyone who has read the work of John Howard Yoder will undoubtedly see the profound impact that Yoder had on the political theology of Hauerwas and Willimon, especially in their critique of the "Constantinian" approach to transform the world (I am thinking particularly of Yoder's [b:The original revolution;: Essays on Christian pacifism,|3804095|The original revolution; Essays on Christian pacifism, (Christian peace shelf series, 3)|John Howard Yoder|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1519685332l/3804095._SX50_.jpg|117326]). In this regard, Hauerwas and Willimon, do not say anything radically new about Christian engagement with the world, but they do make the work of Yoder much more accessible for a wider audience. (One wonders, though, if Yoder's influence on this book can be applauded, considering Yoder's sexual abuse and harassment of women, which Hauerwas and Willimon do not mention or take into account in this book, even in the "Foreword" and "Afterword" of the 25th anniversary edition that was released in 2014).
Hauerwas and Willimon offer an important critique of the work of H. Richard and Reinhold Niebuhr, both of whom have had a profound influence on American theology and on the church's engagement with the world. They rightly put an emphasis on both the church and the person of Jesus when it comes to thinking through the issues of Christian political engagement and Christian ethics. Still, I could not help but feel as though Hauerwas and Willimon skirted around crucial and difficult political issues, offering little practical advice in this book. When it comes to issues such as police brutality, mass incarceration, gun violence, militarism, poverty, etc., how can and should the church practically help, instead of simply withdrawing from the world? Perhaps, the answers to this question, and others, can be found in other works by Hauerwas and/or Willimon, but I think the authors could have done a better job at "fleshing out" what they mean when they say things like, "the church is a social strategy" (43), and the "overriding political task of the church is to be the community of the cross" (47).
Hauerwas and Willimon critique the approach of both liberal and conservative Christians to transform the world, which they view as essentially being the same approach, because both the left and the right are in "agreement that we should use our democratic power in a responsible way to make the world a better place in which to live” (37). For the authors, such an approach is "Constantinian" and "accommodationist" (31, 37); they "see little difference between the originating positions of liberals or conservatives," for both the left and the right "assume that the political significance of the church lies in assisting the secular state in its presumption to make a better world for its citizens" (156). Rather, Hauerwas and Willimon argue, Christians should "influence the world by being the church, that is, by being something the world is not and can never be" (46); any other approach results in the church becoming a chaplain to the state, upholding and embracing the culture in an attempt to "underwrite American democracy" (32).
Because of the authors' conviction that the church must be central to Christian ethics, a handful of the book's chapters deal specifically with and speak directly to those in ministry. Many of these chapters not only include the wisdom and reflection of the authors, but also a number of interesting examples from parish life, especially within mainline Protestant denominations (to which both of the authors belong).
Anyone who has read the work of John Howard Yoder will undoubtedly see the profound impact that Yoder had on the political theology of Hauerwas and Willimon, especially in their critique of the "Constantinian" approach to transform the world (I am thinking particularly of Yoder's [b:The original revolution;: Essays on Christian pacifism,|3804095|The original revolution; Essays on Christian pacifism, (Christian peace shelf series, 3)|John Howard Yoder|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1519685332l/3804095._SX50_.jpg|117326]). In this regard, Hauerwas and Willimon, do not say anything radically new about Christian engagement with the world, but they do make the work of Yoder much more accessible for a wider audience. (One wonders, though, if Yoder's influence on this book can be applauded, considering Yoder's sexual abuse and harassment of women, which Hauerwas and Willimon do not mention or take into account in this book, even in the "Foreword" and "Afterword" of the 25th anniversary edition that was released in 2014).
Hauerwas and Willimon offer an important critique of the work of H. Richard and Reinhold Niebuhr, both of whom have had a profound influence on American theology and on the church's engagement with the world. They rightly put an emphasis on both the church and the person of Jesus when it comes to thinking through the issues of Christian political engagement and Christian ethics. Still, I could not help but feel as though Hauerwas and Willimon skirted around crucial and difficult political issues, offering little practical advice in this book. When it comes to issues such as police brutality, mass incarceration, gun violence, militarism, poverty, etc., how can and should the church practically help, instead of simply withdrawing from the world? Perhaps, the answers to this question, and others, can be found in other works by Hauerwas and/or Willimon, but I think the authors could have done a better job at "fleshing out" what they mean when they say things like, "the church is a social strategy" (43), and the "overriding political task of the church is to be the community of the cross" (47).
A Burning in My Bones: The Authorized Biography of Eugene H. Peterson, Translator of the Message by Winn Collier
5.0
This book is an honest and personal biography of a modern day saint. Winn Collier has done an excellent job of showing both the successes and failures of Eugene Peterson, the writer, the theologian, the scholar, the pastor. While it is somewhat of a risk to write the life story of an individual considered by many to be a hero of the faith—because there is no telling what will come to the surface after such an investigation—it is still very important work. All “saints” are human, and this does not take away from their saintliness, but rather, shows what humans are capable of when they give themselves over to the power and leading of the Spirit of Jesus. Peterson did exactly that. This biography taught me that Peterson was not perfect, but also that he was the quintessential pastor; much like Peter or Paul, he was what the church needed at pivotal moments in its long and turbulent history. Peterson’s poetic and contemporary translation of Scripture (The Message), his local pastoral work, his commitment to loving and being with people, and his incredible way with words are all priceless, and will serve the church for many years to come.
The Prophetic Imagination by Walter Brueggemann
4.0
Walter Brueggemann's classic work on prophetic ministry is short, but filled with a number of good insights. The book explores "the task of prophetic ministry," which, according to Brueggemann, "is to nurture, nourish, and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture around us" (13). The prophetic representatives that Brueggemann examines specifically are Moses and his alternative community (chap. 1), Jeremiah and his "ministry of grief" (chap. 3), Second Isaiah and his "ministry of hope" (chap. 4), and Jesus of Nazareth (chaps. 5-6). In contrast to the prophetic "alternative community," there are Pharaoh (chap. 1), Solomon (chap. 2), and Herod (chap. 5)—all of whom represent the "royal consciousness."
The high point of the book is in chapters 3 and 4, wherein Brueggemann looks at Jeremiah's pathos and prophetic criticism (chap. 3), and Second Isaiah's message of hope, in an attempt to energize the people of Israel in exile (chap. 4). Jeremiah's goal, in Brueggemann's reading, was to "cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception" (49) of the "royal consciousness" in Israel. And specifically, Jeremiah's ministry was one of grief, which sought to proclaim the end of the old order/regime. Prophetic criticism, then, is not "anger"—as it is commonly thought today—but "anguish" (80). However, not only are prophets meant to criticize with pathos, but also energize with hope. According to Brueggemann, prophetic ministry needs to both criticize and energize. It is not enough for the prophet to simply "show that the dominant consciousness … will indeed end and that it has no final claim upon us"; rather, the prophet must also "present an alternative consciousness that can energize the community to fresh forms of faithfulness and vitality" (62).
Brueggemann's chapter on the Solomonic regime shows how the monarchy in Israel, under the leadership of Solomon, began to mimic the empires around Israel, rather than embrace Moses's alternative community. Solomon's reign was characterized both by the "economics of affluence" and a "politics of oppression" (34), thus becoming the "dominant culture" against which stood the prophetic ministry and task. And according to Brueggemann, Solomon's regime was made possible because of the institutionalization of the Jerusalem cult and of the construction of the temple—which Brueggemann even refers to as the “Canaanization” of Israel (31). While I agree with much of Brueggemann’s overall assessment of the Solomonic program, I believe that he views the Solomonic temple far too negatively. Brueggemann finds that the "accessibility of God" in the temple counters the "freedom of God" that one experiences in Moses’ alternative community, because through the temple, "God is totally and unquestionably accessible to the king," meaning that "there is no notion that God is free and that he may act apart from and even against this regime" (35). Brueggemann, however, does not take into adequate consideration the role of the tabernacle when he contrasts the Mosaic program with the Solomonic program. It does not follow that God's "freedom" was on display with Moses and the tabernacle, but that God was too "accessible" during the time of Solomon and the temple. Both the tabernacle and the temple testify to both the "freedom" and the "accessibility" of a God who is, at one and the same time, "imminent" and "transcendent," "free" to do as God pleases and yet "covenanted" to a people and to creation. Brueggemann thus creates a false and unnecessary dichotomy between God’s "accessibility" and God’s "freedom." By associating the temple with the excesses of the empire, and thereby, pitting the prophetic ministry against the temple and its worship of the God of Israel, Brueggemann even goes against the testimony of the prophets themselves on occasion.
Still, this book is an important work, and Brueggemann is a wonderful writer and an insightful reader of the biblical text. Anyone interested in the prophetic ministry (both in the Bible and today) would do well to pick up this book.
The high point of the book is in chapters 3 and 4, wherein Brueggemann looks at Jeremiah's pathos and prophetic criticism (chap. 3), and Second Isaiah's message of hope, in an attempt to energize the people of Israel in exile (chap. 4). Jeremiah's goal, in Brueggemann's reading, was to "cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception" (49) of the "royal consciousness" in Israel. And specifically, Jeremiah's ministry was one of grief, which sought to proclaim the end of the old order/regime. Prophetic criticism, then, is not "anger"—as it is commonly thought today—but "anguish" (80). However, not only are prophets meant to criticize with pathos, but also energize with hope. According to Brueggemann, prophetic ministry needs to both criticize and energize. It is not enough for the prophet to simply "show that the dominant consciousness … will indeed end and that it has no final claim upon us"; rather, the prophet must also "present an alternative consciousness that can energize the community to fresh forms of faithfulness and vitality" (62).
Brueggemann's chapter on the Solomonic regime shows how the monarchy in Israel, under the leadership of Solomon, began to mimic the empires around Israel, rather than embrace Moses's alternative community. Solomon's reign was characterized both by the "economics of affluence" and a "politics of oppression" (34), thus becoming the "dominant culture" against which stood the prophetic ministry and task. And according to Brueggemann, Solomon's regime was made possible because of the institutionalization of the Jerusalem cult and of the construction of the temple—which Brueggemann even refers to as the “Canaanization” of Israel (31). While I agree with much of Brueggemann’s overall assessment of the Solomonic program, I believe that he views the Solomonic temple far too negatively. Brueggemann finds that the "accessibility of God" in the temple counters the "freedom of God" that one experiences in Moses’ alternative community, because through the temple, "God is totally and unquestionably accessible to the king," meaning that "there is no notion that God is free and that he may act apart from and even against this regime" (35). Brueggemann, however, does not take into adequate consideration the role of the tabernacle when he contrasts the Mosaic program with the Solomonic program. It does not follow that God's "freedom" was on display with Moses and the tabernacle, but that God was too "accessible" during the time of Solomon and the temple. Both the tabernacle and the temple testify to both the "freedom" and the "accessibility" of a God who is, at one and the same time, "imminent" and "transcendent," "free" to do as God pleases and yet "covenanted" to a people and to creation. Brueggemann thus creates a false and unnecessary dichotomy between God’s "accessibility" and God’s "freedom." By associating the temple with the excesses of the empire, and thereby, pitting the prophetic ministry against the temple and its worship of the God of Israel, Brueggemann even goes against the testimony of the prophets themselves on occasion.
Still, this book is an important work, and Brueggemann is a wonderful writer and an insightful reader of the biblical text. Anyone interested in the prophetic ministry (both in the Bible and today) would do well to pick up this book.