edited by Robert H. Bullock Jr. Louisville: Geneva Press, 2006. ISBN 0664502792. Pb., 133 pp., $17.95.
While I understand the logic of doing so, I rarely seek a second opinion on a medical matter. When I find a doctor whose insights I trust, I typically embrace his or her observations and insights.
Truth be told, I often do the same in other areas of my life. When drawing conclusions about issues before the church, I tend to listen to persons whose opinions I trust (since they generally mirror my own), and having had my own point of view affirmed, I enjoy the sweet satisfaction reserved for those who are confident of being right.
by Richard Robert Osmer. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005. ISBN 0-664-22547-0. Pb., 347 pp. $29.95
Last fall my daughter entered her senior year of high school and with that came the extracurricular activity of filling out college applications and writing application essays. Though each school has had its own list of suggested topics, most of them have included an option that goes something like this, "If you could invite any three guests, from any time in history, to a dinner party, whom would you invite and what would you want to discuss with them?"
by Jack Rogers. Louisville: WJKP, 2006. ISBN 0-664-22939-5. Pb., 176 pp. $17.95
You are invited to travel with Jack Rogers on a life-changing, personal journey as he moves from being a conservative evangelical who viewed homosexuality as a "sin" to a progressive evangelical who now promotes the acceptance of homosexual orientation and practice.
Dr. Rogers, the Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) General Assembly in 2001 and former professor of theology at Fuller and San Francisco Theological Seminaries, was asked by his pastor, Dean Thompson, in 1993 to participate in a Bible study about homosexuality. The group took seriously the seven official guidelines of the Presbyterian Church for Biblical interpretation. The first of these is "To recognize that Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, is the center of Scripture." The seventh guideline is to "Seek to interpret a particular passage of the Bible in the light of all of the Bible."
For the churchgoing Christian, there's plenty to like about "The Da Vinci Code": The whole time, people are talking about the faith. The important places are locales like museums, libraries, and sanctuaries. Knowledge of ancient languages, (Western) history, culture, and art is essential. And it's oh, so literary, even to the point of playing with words, so that the keys to the puzzles lie with being able to figure out the clues within the words. Just delicious.
Ah, but for the churchgoing Christian, there's plenty not to like, as well.
by Anne Rice. New York: Knopf, 2005. ISBN 0-375-41201-8. Hb., 336 pp. $25.95.
Jesus has lived the first seven years of his life in Alexandria, Egypt. The novel covers his family's move back to Galilee after King Herod's death and Jesus' first year in Nazareth. The plot concerns how the boy Jesus discovers his birth story and true identity.
Two incidents found in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas open the novel. Jesus' blunt words to a bully result in the bully's death. In view of the ensuing ruckus caused by the dead boy's family, Jesus decides to raise him from the dead. In the context of that incident, we also learn that the child Jesus had earlier fashioned sparrows out of clay on the Sabbath day, and then clapped his hands to make them fly away after he was criticized for working on the Sabbath. In an afterword, Rice defends her decision to embrace these apocryphal accounts because she finds a deep truth in them that speaks to her.
Both films feature, prominently, the country's president--a fit, trim, handsome, well-dressed, well-manicured white man somewhere in his 50's. Both feature terrorist plots against the president. In both, the terrorists themselves are somewhat shadowy foreign figures whose motivations are uncertain, but seem more political than personal. In both, an affair not only undercuts the integrity of the participants, but puts everyone else at risk, as well. One is a deadly serious drama and the other a completely satirical goof, but both have somber, sober, cynical undertones.
by Thomas G. Long. Louisville: WJKP, 2005. ISBN 0-664-22943-3. Pb., 267 pp., $24.95.
In the preface to this Second Edition, Tom Long writes that when he first wrote The Witness of Preaching in the late 1980s, he was attempting to do two things. First, he sought to provide a basic textbook on preaching that would be both accessible to new preachers and yet still helpful to experienced pastors. Second, he hoped "to create a textbook that was in direct conversation with other voices and opinions in the field of preaching" (p. ix).
It is easy to see that Long delivered on his first promise. The textbook immediately found its way into introductory preaching courses in divinity schools and seminaries of all types, and countless experienced preachers found renewed passion for their preaching after reading The Witness of Preaching. What made the original particularly helpful was its rich theology of proclamation that clearly gave life to the nuts and bolts of sermon crafting that Long espoused.
by David L Goetz. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2006. ISBN-13-978-0-06-075670-3 Hb., 214 pp., $23.95.
The inspiration behind this new book is fascinating. Author David L. Goetz asks whether or not life in the suburbs is harmful to a living faith. As an answer, he claims it can be, but with the deliberate method he delineates in this book it does not have to be.
We recognize the concerns he raises: that showiness and barrenness are the suburbia stereotype. In the lovely bedroom communities of America, it can appear that the inhabitants are more worried about orderly landscaping than they are the landscape of the soul. Such a message is intriguing to me and would be to many clergy. If you serve a congregation in which a large number of your members are suburbanites, the question is there, even if unasked: In the hectic pace and everyday diversions of the suburbs, is it possible for people to discern, to have a word with and have a word from the Living God?
by Robert W. Jenson. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville, John Knox Press, 2005. ISBN 0-8042-3117-6. 106 pp, $24.95
"It may be," says the author, "that the chief purpose of a commentary on (the Song of Songs) is not to provide interpretation but to provoke it" (p. 12). In this masterful commentary, Robert Jenson does both.
From the author's engaging preface, through a most informative introduction that makes one eager to read on, and throughout the commentary, Jenson leads the reader on an extraordinary adventure in the study of Scripture.
by Wendy Farley. Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2005. ISBN 0-664-22976-X. Pb., 208 pp., $19.95.
On the back of Wendy Farley's new book, The Wounding and Healing of Desire, the brief description of her project uses appropriate descriptive language like "inspiring" and "passionate" to invite the reader into this beautiful work. The description ends by calling Farley's book a "theological memoir." If this categorization entices you to pick it up and read it, then I am happy with the choice of genre the publisher made. As a theologian, however, I find the description unsatisfying even as I grope for an alternative way to capture what Farley has accomplished. Indeed this book does pour forth from an intimate integrity that connects her experience with the way she constructs theology. Her project, however, is more ontological than it is a narrative of or theological reflection on her life.
"Tsotsi" means "thug" in South African dialect. Tsotsi (Presley Chweneyagae, in a remarkable debut) is a thug, all right, from the slums of Johannesburg. He glares constantly, as if always boiling with rage. He is cruel, violent, and humorless. He surrounds himself with other thugs, and together they go to the central train terminal, where they find their victims. They rob people who are unguarded enough to flash a wad of bills when they are paying for a newspaper. When they return to their slums, they spend their stolen money gambling at dice, and when it runs out, they go steal again. Tsotsi seems to be practically unredeemable. And then something unexpected happens.
With Easter Week, spring break and other incentives to use our time to read something inspiring, we recommend the following:
For adults
Were You There? Finding Ourselves at the Foot of the Cross, by Erik Kolbell. Louisville: WJKP, 2005. ISBN 0-664-22778-3. Hb., 163 pp., $14.95.
What would you have done were you there during Jesus' passion? Would you have provided comfort, as did Mary? Would you have betrayed him, as did Judas? Would you have abused the power entrusted to you, as did Caiaphas, Herod, and Pilate? Kolbell skillfully puts us into the story of Jesus' passion and death in such a way that we are there--and that then is somehow now, too. Retelling Jesus' passion from the perspective of multiple characters, he offers rich insight into Jesus' story, and into our stories, as well.
by Wes Avram. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2005. ISBN 1587430886. Pb., 156 pp., $14.99.
In the first of the sermonic essays in this collection, Wes Avram recounts a story from a physician's memoirs about a young man who lost his leg to bone cancer. The young man went through long and difficult therapy to learn to live without his leg. During his physical therapy, the doctor sometimes asked the young man to draw a picture of how he was feeling. On one occasion he drew a picture of a cracked vase, depicting his feeling of being broken right at the center of his being. As the years went on, the young man gradually accepted his new life and learned to find joy again. Much later, the doctor met the patient again, and had an opportunity to pull out of his files the old picture of the cracked vase. The former patient took the picture back and said, "This isn't finished." He added something to the drawing. "'Now it's complete,' he said and turned it back to the doctor. He had drawn rays of light shining from inside the vase. He said, 'Now I know that the crack is where the light shows through.'" [p. 31]
Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace, by Miroslav Volf. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006. ISBN: 0-310-26574-6. Pb., 247 pages, $12.99.
Read this book; it will strengthen your Lenten preaching. Free of Charge is the Archbishop of Canterbury's "Official 2006 Lent Book." In the Forward, Archbishop Rowan Williams says, "This is a book about worshipping the true God and letting the true God act in us." Volf captures the essence of his book in a more engaging way in the Postlude, a conversation with a skeptic who questions all Volf's assumptions, even his view of God. Volf responds, "I don't mean to insult you, but I wrote this book mainly for myself and maybe for folks like me, not for you. Most books I write, I write for myself as a spiritual exercise almost. And to tell the truth, my biggest problem is not with the arguments that may pull the rug from beneath the whole Christian way of life. In a sense my biggest problem is not an argument at all." (p.229)
Volf and the skeptic continue the dialogue. Volf says, "I am what we Christians used to call a 'sinner,' though we are now a bit embarrassed by the term." (p.230) "In the book, I argue, among other things, that we should embrace our enemies as Christ has embraced us. Well, an 'enemy'- a small one -- arose in my life after I wrote the book, and I sensed in myself the propensity to return in kind and exclude rather than forgive and embrace. And then I heard myself saying, 'But you argued in your book ...' It was like an academic version of the still small voice my wonderful and godly mother so often speaks about."
"Did that help?" the skeptic asked.
"It did! It reminded me that I was failing, that I wasn't true to God and to myself. It helped me resolve to act differently, to love my 'enemy.'" (p. 232)
As I was preparing this review of David Kelsey's provocative treatment of redemption, none other than Arnold Schwarzenegger, the governor of California, was already bandying about the word in the media. Explaining his refusal to commute the death sentence of Stanley "Tookie" Williams, the governor-cum-theologian said, "[Williams'] redemption may not be complete."
It is clear that the governor was operating under a certain definition of redemption, clearly popular in our hyper-individualistic culture, bathed as we are in self-help. In our cultural milieu, redemption is a human act of will, something that Mr. Williams ought to be able to "do," and, barring that redemptive accomplishment, he somehow forfeits his right to live. Lest any in the faith community believe that this understanding is remotely Christian, Kelsey's book comes along and reminds us that redemption is not a self-help project or a human project at all; redemption is a gift of grace, an act of God, and we are simply invited to live into this redemptive space in response.
Both are about journeys from the cosmopolitan United States to the jungles of another continent. In both, the central characters are nice, trusting, non-violent, and affectionate. In both, the first foray ends in great disappointment, but perseverance pays off when the second attempt succeeds. In both, there is a kind of determined optimism, almost to the point of suspending disbelief. In both, love triumphs, but it's not always romantic love that matters, but the genuine caring that binds one being to another despite their unlikely alliance.
Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden. (Proverbs 30: 18-19)
There's a decided disadvantage to making a movie of a play. It's probably going to look "staged"--lots of conversation, lots of character interaction, plot development through dialogue, but it all feels confined to tight quarters. There are a couple of decided advantages, though, of converting a successful play into a movie: the snappy repartee is already audience-tested, and the ending is going to feel like a finale.
"A Good Woman" is based on Oscar Wilde's 1892 play, "Lady Windermere's Fan." There's a mature kind of jocularity here, as if it's the older folks who are funny, intelligent, and wise, and the younger folks are physically handsome, but tend to be victimized by their own immaturity, ardor, and impulsiveness. But, of course, there's no fool like an old fool, and the young have to be prevented from being impaled by their own principles.
For those who are skeptical and dismissive of Oprah Winfrey, it is particularly challenging not to be condescending of a religious book that seeks to evaluate Oprah and her influence on our society. In The Gospel According to Oprah, Marcia Z. Nelson provides us with a thorough theological evaluation of Oprah and her empire that invites us to re-evaluate this "pop-icon," and possibly learn and appropriate lessons from her.
Oprah's influence is unparalleled. Her show is broadcast in 108 countries around the globe, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe; she claims 10 million viewers in the U.S. alone; her magazine has 2.7 million readers. Her empire includes movie production, Internet, and product endorsement. Her core message, "improve yourself, make a difference, and learn from life's lessons," is consistent and strong throughout all areas of her work.
In the Reformed tradition, we believe that any dichotomy between sacred and secular is a false one. We claim that God is actively involved in all spheres of life: church and culture, pastor and pop-icon. How is it that we might see Oprah as an instrument of God? It is hard to dismiss Oprah's generosity: more than $175 million donated to causes and organizations that promote human development. The testimony of countless people who claim to be living more full lives because of Oprah is equally compelling. Oprah has raised consciousness about critical social issues such as child abuse.
It's 1965. Vietnam was on television, and so was Lyndon Johnson. Martin Luther King Jr. was leading the Civil Rights movement, and racism in America was both subtle and overt, particularly in the Deep South. Bouffant hairdos. Motown sound on the radio. And college basketball was a white man's game.
It's not that there weren't some black players. But the ones who toughed out the taunts from the stands had to endure the unwritten expectations of Division One competition: You can play one black at home, two on the road, and three if you're desperately behind. But a whole team of blacks would be undisciplined, would only be capable of the "playground" game, no teamwork, all "showboating."
Don Haskins was a successful high school girls' basketball coach. Sure, he had dreams of coaching a men's program at the college level, and he was amazed when he was offered the position at Texas Western (now the University of Texas at El Paso). He didn't realize they had no recruiting budget, little talent to work with, and few expectations even of itself. He set out to change all that. He wanted to go recruit some good players. So he scoured the playgrounds, not only in Texas, but also in places like Gary, Indiana, and Harlem. He told those black kids that if they followed his program, they would play. And so a dedicated group of seven black players all accepted scholarships. And Haskins (played capably by Josh Lucas) went about trying to shape them into a team.
It's an old story: aging widow is left with lots of money and little to do. She tries needlework, charity work but finds the other old biddies dreary and tiresome. She definitely doesn't want to be like them. She visits the grave of her only son, who died at 21 years of age on some field in France, fighting the Germans. His headstone is in the middle of a neat, crowded row of other headstones, silent, mocking monuments to the "War to end all wars."
Laura Henderson (Judi Dench) has a car, and driver, furs, an elegant estate, and all of one lady friend. She's sharp-tongued, sharp-witted, and is often construed as rude, selfish, and eccentric. She's also bored to tears. She desperately needs an occupation, and could really use a cause.
One day she happens upon an old, closed-down theater called "The Windmill." It's London, during the Depression. On a whim, she buys it. She then contracts with a local out-of-work but experienced manager, Vivian Van Damm (Bob Hoskins). They like each other because every time they meet, it's a clash of wit and will. It gets the blood pumping for both of them.
Oh, and they hit on a formula that keeps the blood pumping for their patrons. It seems that the Windmill Theater initially enjoyed significant success with the modest innovation of the continuous musical revue. But then, all the other theaters copied them, and they were no longer unique. Sales slumped. Mrs. Henderson quite seriously suggests to Mr. Van Damm that a true innovation would be if their girls were nude. Mr. Van Damm acts shocked, but can't help but be intrigued by the idea. He says the authorities would never allow it. It turns out that Mrs. Henderson knows the particular government administrator, and she wears him down with her bargaining technique, until he finally allows it, but only if the women in question are completely still, like a sculpture in a museum.
by Timothy B. Tyson. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2005. ISBN 1400083117. Pb., 368 pp., $14.
Many words will be spilled over this review of Timothy B. Tyson's autobiography, Blood Done Sign My Name. All of them are intended to encourage you: read it; invite your congregation members to read it; listen deeply to what it says to you, in you, and about you.
Tyson provides one of the most engaging autobiographies this reviewer has read. He integrates his coming of age story into the crime of murder, committed in an apparent spirit of racial supremacy. He challenges us to see more than is comfortable and to admit all that we know but dare not speak.
Tyson's generous personal story, woven with his clear and accessible exposition of complex civil rights history, captivated me. He cleverly negotiates the distance between past and present, between his story and the story and laces it all with theological assertions, challenges, and hope. Tyson avoids the dangers of nostalgia by delving into the messy complexities of racism and our continuing grasp toward, but not of, reconciliation. Chapters are measured with insightful humor and grit, making the recounting of pain caused by the sins inherently consequent given racism in our culture and in our church more palatable.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis. New York: HarperTrophy, 2000. ISBN 0064409422. Pb., 208 pp., $8.99.
C. S. Lewis: Letters to Children, edited by Lyle W. Dorsett and Marjorie Lamp Mead. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1985.
This season's opening of the film "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" has taken many of us back through the wardrobe into Narnia. My hope is that the new travelers have not only the film trip, but also the wonderfully imaginative one through the book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which was the first of the seven books in the Narnia chronicles by C. S. Lewis.
Some wonder at the staying power of Lewis. He was a scholar, a medievalist, and professor of literature at both Oxford and Cambridge, and for some years an agnostic. His path to faith sets him as a premier example of one who reasoned his way to the brink of faith. One cannot reason all the way. He said the final step was like diving off the high diving board for the first time.
Lewis' writings ranged beyond excellent works in his professional field to the publication of his World War II radio talks -- now available as Mere Christianity. Countless Christians found their first doorway into faith through that book. Beyond these moving apologetic pieces (never out of print), he published novels and science fiction.
Of prime importance to us is the series of the Narnia Chronicles. Here the children wander through a wonderful wardrobe into the land of Narnia, where it is always winter but never Christmas. The White Witch rules and her kingdom is defeated only by the quite remarkable lion, Aslan (pronounced by Lewis Ass-lan). Many have seen in Aslan a Christ figure. He suffers ("velveting his paws," emptying himself of his power) and lays down his life for others. He comes bouncing back to life and breathes life into countless elves, dwarves, and animals that have been turned to stone by the White Witch. One of the children (Edmund) is a Judas figure, a sneak and a traitor. The fearful children (like the disciples) join the risen Aslan to do battle against evil.
Some ask whether we have "read in" our Christian theology here. Did Lewis intend to tell the Jesus story? In this essay I share Lewis' own words in the revealing book C. S. Lewis: Letters to Children. We do not have the children's letters, but to our great pleasure we have C. S. Lewis responding to them.
A child asked in 1953 about Aslan's other name (is he Jesus?). Lewis responds: "Has there never been anyone in this world who (1.) Arrived at the same time as Father Christmas. (2.) Said he was the son of the Great Emperor. (3.) Gave himself up for someone else's fault to be jeered at and killed by wicked people. (4.) Came to life again. (5.) Is sometimes spoken of as a Lamb (see the end of the Dawn Treader). Don't you really know His name in this world?" (p. 32)
A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life, by Parker J. Palmer. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004. ISBN 0-7879-7100-6. Hb., 192 pp. $22.95.
Drawing attention to the divided nature of our lives (the "blizzard" that assaults us without and within), Palmer seeks a means by which we might live as more whole persons, "undivided" in the relationships in which we seek to live and serve. Palmer offers no quick fixes, but calls for his readers to create safe spaces to nurture the soul in community; his hope is that such undivided lives will enable us to live non-violently in the world.
A Table of Delight: Feasting with God in the Wilderness, by Elizabeth J. Canham. Nashville: Upper Room Books. 2005. ISBN 0-8358-9804-0. Pb., 132 pp. $12.
Canham invites readers to find God at work in wilderness experiences--both the chosen wildernesses of retreat, and the un-chosen wildernesses of barren times of life. She shares with the reader ways that the wilderness can be a place of prayer where God is at work.
by David H. C. Read. New York: Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, 2005; available by order from The Hood Library at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church (921 Madison Avenue, New York, NY, 10021; $20 plus $3 shipping and handling).
During a scheduled "free" afternoon of a continuing education event at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, David H. C. Read spent his "free" time reading the sermons of, and offering instruction and encouragement to, a pair of young pastors. Each chapter of his autobiography God Was in the Laughter radiates that same grace and generosity.
David Haxton Carswell Read was for thirty-three years pastor of Madison Avenue Church in New York City and perennially listed among the best preachers in the United States. His voice was heard regularly on the National Radio Pulpit. In 1973 he was the Lyman Beecher lecturer at Yale Divinity School. He published about a dozen books of sermons and a half dozen other volumes on preaching, evangelism, and as well an introduction to Christian faith. His sermons are bright and witty, theologically rich, wonderfully insightful to the human need for God, and though they were preached decades ago, they may still be profitably read as models of homiletical discipline and vessels of God's grace.
edited by Leanne Van Dyke. Grand Rapids, Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2005. ISBN 0-8028-2854-X. Pb., 155 pp. $15.
Leanne Van Dyke, at the end of her contribution to this book of essays on theology and worship reminds us that if one pulls on a single thread of worship practices, "theological implications begin to spill out," and if one pulls on a single thread of theology, "worship practices begin to spill out." Accordingly, the "thoughtful pastor, church leader, and lay person will wish to think through these mutual integrations so that worship and theology can fit together and be a fragrant offering to God." (p.78)
Van Dyke's own effort to trace the mutual relations between what we believe and how we worship centers on the church's task of proclamation, pairing our understanding of the Word made flesh in Jesus Christ with the word that engages us in Scripture, sacrament, preaching, and other liturgical moments. She is joined in this integrative effort by five other contributors: John Witvliet, whose initial essay deals with the opening of worship and its Trinitarian shape; William Dryness, who traces the mutual connections between the church's act of confession and the doctrines of sin and grace; Ron Byars, whose essay shows how the church's practice of confessing the faith in creedal form (and in the prayers of the liturgy) implies a certain doctrine of the church that in turn sheds light on the meaning of our confessing; Martha Moore-Keish, who writes on the deep connections between the church's practice of celebrating the Eucharist and its eschatological hope; and David Stubbs, who helps us see the end of worship as the calling to live in such a way that our lives do not mock our worship but rather reflect its truth and reality.
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