In the account of Jesus’ “transfiguration,” we are told that the “appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white” (Luke 9:29).  While one might wonder about the significance of this is, the comments that come after shed some light, so to speak. “And behold, two men talked with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his departure, which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem” (Luke 9:30-31, NRSV).  The reader is then told that when Peter, James and John awoke “they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.”  Clearly, then, the significance of Jesus’ altered countenance and dazzling white raiment is that he—along with Moses and Elijah— appear “in glory,”  although only of Jesus is it said to be his glory.

In the Old Testament, God’s glory is used to designate the manifestation of God’s “God-ness” to humans:  Moses doesn’t see God but God’s glory.  Continue reading →

This weekend our nation gears up for two grand events: the inauguration of a president, and the remembrance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Preparations are being made for elaborate dinners and good wine and heartfelt speeches.

In John chapter 2, Jesus does something very human, very prosaic, very neighborly: he goes to a party. A wedding party, to be precise. If you’ve ever been to a Middle Eastern wedding, you know that they are lavish affairs, often with hundreds of guests. The wedding Jesus went to probably involved an elaborate dinner and at least one or two heartfelt speeches, and we know that it eventually included some very good wine.

We learn right away that Jesus’ mother has been invited to the wedding, too. And we get to witness a faintly humorous exchange between the Son of God and his mother Mary. In verse 4, the mother of Jesus informs him that the wine is gone (clearly expecting him to do something about it), and Jesus says “So what?” (I’m paraphrasing here). In verse 5, his mother says to the servants: “Do whatever he says.” I’d love to know what happens in the tiny white space between the end of verse 4 and the start of verse 5. There’s no break, no transition, not even an “and” or a “but.” What happened in-between verse 4 and verse 5? Did Mary raise her eyebrows? Did she put her hands on her hips? Was Jesus’ question light-hearted, and did he grin afterward and wait expectantly to see what his mother would do? Did either of them smile, sharing for just a moment the knowledge they had that was hidden to everyone else?

As soon as Mary hands the matter off to the servants, Jesus doesn’t argue about it anymore. And just as Mary requests, they do precisely what Jesus tells them to do. Fill the jars! he says. And they fill them. Up to the brim, just to be thorough. Bring them to the chief steward! he says. And they bring them to the chief steward.

The chief steward is so astounded by the water-become-wine that he confronts the bridegroom, pointing out that most people serve the good stuff first and save the cheap wine for later, when the guests have had a bit too much to know the difference, but that this host has saved the best for the end. It’s hard to tell if this is a reproach, subtle advice for next time, praise, or simply an expression of surprise.

What it tells the reader, however, is that God’s delightful abundance has just overflowed through Jesus and blessed this wedding with goodness. Six large stone jars – that is a lot of wine. As the psalmist sings, “They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights” (Psalm 36:8).

John reports that this act is the first of the “signs” that Jesus does. Turning water into wine, walking on water: we might think of these acts as miracles, as the divine bending or creative reinterpretation of the laws of nature, but John insists that they are signs that point beyond themselves. Signs that call forth belief in Jesus (John 2:11; cf. John 2:23). Signs that reveal the glory of Jesus. In the Old Testament, God’s glory was a symbol of God’s powerful presence with the people (Exod 24:15-18; 34:29-35; 40:34-38) – a presence so overwhelming that nobody could look it in the face and live (Exod 33:12-23).

In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ glory blazes forth for all the world to see at his crucifixion and in his resurrection (John 17:1-5). At a wedding in a small town in Galilee, an unsuspecting group of wedding guests sees a glimpse of Jesus’ glory: his true identity as the light of the world.

Let’s go back to the very start of the story, just for a moment. John notes that Jesus went to this particular wedding on the third day. It’s a small detail, but now it sparkles with potential meaning. At the heart of Christian conviction is the declaration that God raised Jesus from the dead on the third day (Luke 24:7; 1 Cor 15:4; cf. John 2:19).

“On the third day, Jesus went to a wedding.” Hear those words again in an entirely new way, in the light of the resurrection, in the splendid light of Jesus’ glory. See a glimpse of the wedding of heaven and earth, the wedding banquet at which all the nations sit. On the third day, Jesus arose and went to a wedding, where he prepares the feast for us.

“You brood of vipers” – nobody’s Christmas card conveys that message. And yet everyone’s does. John’s indictment echoes God’s appraisal of his people – all people. It’s a judgment Jesus would share: “If you, though you are evil…” Our text reminds: there is need for peace on earth and in our souls because we have sown war. God draws near not only out of his own overflowing love but our radical need. And his coming takes the fleshly shape it does because from our hearts of stone God would raise true children of Abraham. It is a baptism of the Holy Spirit, a circumcision of the heart, that is required, for the fruit of our repentance is, time and again, rotten. He whom John proclaims will bear the fruit we could not, not extorting but emptying himself of riches for our sakes, not bearing false witness but enduring it, not seeking his due but becoming servant of all, sharing his clothes with all us naked; his body with all us hungry.

This, Luke and the prophets tell us, is good news. It is good news. Brood of vipers, we may be, but we have not been abandoned to our own grasping, evil devices, God has come, in our midst. Lifted up, bearing our wretched, serpentine form and the cost of our empty penitence, for this he came into the world. By this we might bear new fruit from our new hearts. Our fortunes restored – and more – before our eyes and the eyes of a doubtful world.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel / and ransom captive Israel / that mourns in lonely exile…

“Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God.” Baruch 5:1

Our lectionary readings for Advent 2 deal with two themes: comfort and proclamation. In Baruch 5, the Lord’s comfort comes to the Israelites as divine glory. Jerusalem is to trade the garments of sorry and affliction for the garment and diadem of glory. The comfort of glory is also a comfort of peace, for God will give Jerusalem the name of “Righteous Peace,” a peace that is marked by the return of the exiles. Even creation is brought into this peace by obeying God’s command making the path for the exiles straight and level. Continue reading →

Our inaugural MTS class was featured recently in the Loyola College Update. The Theology Dept is really proud of our cohort, and very pleased to see them get some recognition here.

Prof. David Decosimo has recently published an article, entitled “Intrinsic Goodness and Contingency, Resemblance and Particularity: Two Criticisms of Robert Adams’s Finite and Infinite Goods” in Studies in Christian Ethics 25.4 (November 2012): 418-441.

Here’s an abstract:
Robert Adams’s Finite and Infinite Goods is one of the most important and innovative contributions to Christian ethics in recent memory. This article identifies two major flaws at the heart of Adams’s theory: his notion of intrinsic value and his claim that ‘excellence’ or finite goodness is constituted by resemblance to God. I first elucidate Adams’s complex, frequently misunderstood claims concerning intrinsic value and Godlikeness. I then contend that Adams’s notion of intrinsic value cannot explain what it could mean for countless finite goods to be intrinsically valuable. Next, I articulate a criticism of his Godlikeness thesis altogether unlike those he has previously addressed: I show that, on Adams’s own account of Godlikeness, a diverse myriad of excellences could not possibly count as resembling God. His theory thus fails to account for a whole world of finite goods. I defend my two criticisms against objections and briefly sketch a more Aristotelian and Christian way forward.

2 Sam 23:1-7; Dan 7:9-10; Rev 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37
Cathedral of the Incarnation, Baltimore

This is the final Sunday of the church’s liturgical year. It is the Feast of Christ the King. All of the passages for today reflect on kingship, David’s, God’s, Jesus’. Although Christians in America are far removed from direct experience of a king, there is much these passages can teach us about our own political life. I don’t simply mean political life in the U.S. This reading also can teach us about how we live together here in this particular manifestation of the body of Christ in Baltimore. Continue reading →

This Sunday’s texts from Daniel and Mark (and, perhaps, Hebrews) are quite apocalyptic in their outlook.  This may lead most preachers to focus their attentions elsewhere.

Jesus, too, lived in apocalyptic times.  Many of his fellow Jews, including his relative John the Baptist, were convinced that the world was on the verge of a great apocalyptic judgment.  In the gospel reading for this Sunday Jesus, himself, has just predicted the destruction of the Temple also hinting at the immanent onset of the end of the world as we know it. Continue reading →

“The LORD watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow…” (Psalm 146:9).

This verse reads like the banner headline of today’s lectionary texts. The book of Ruth follows the story of two resourceful widows: Naomi, an Israelite, and Ruth, who is a “stranger,” a foreigner. Through God’s providence and Naomi’s quick thinking, a son is born – the grandfather of King David. In 1 Kings 17, an unnamed widow receives the prophet Elijah into her home and courageously feeds him her very last bit of flour and oil. God rewards her costly hospitality with miraculous abundance. Truly God upholds the widows, who have no one else to bear them up.

Mark 12 begins not with a widow but with Jesus’ indictment of the scribes – teachers of the law and leaders in the Temple. Continue reading →

via Faith and Leadership blog.