On (Not) Having a Hot Take

If you've been watching the Olympics, then you know that there are a couple of things we Christians are supposed to be up in arms over. Or maybe we're not.

     The first is what might have been a mockery of the Last Supper during the opening ceremony, titled “La Cène Sur Un Scène Sur La Seine,” a pun playing on the fact that Cène, ("Last Supper"), "Scène" (stage), and "Seine" (the river that runs through Paris) all sound alike.

     Or maybe that title was actually invented by media, and not the organizers, and maybe it wasn't intended to be a reference to the Last Supper at all, but rather a reference to French food and Dionysius, the God of wine. (The Olympics, of course, originally honored the gods of Mt. Olympus.) Or maybe it was intended to refer to DaVinci's painting -- or to one called “La Cène Sur La Seine,” which hangs in the Pompidou Museum -- but wasn't intended as mockery.

     And then, as if it isn't hard enough to process what we ought to be mad at, there was the saga of Algerian boxer Imane Khelif. Khelif was disqualified last year from the IBA championship because her testosterone levels were too high. 

     Or maybe not: the IBA -- which isn't recognized by the IOC -- backed off on its claims, saying only that she failed "a separate and recognized test, whereby the specifics remain confidential", and was "found to have competitive advantages." (It's not hard to discover that the boxer she would have faced in the finals of the event she was disqualified from was Chinese. The IBA is a Russian organization. Make of that what you will.)

     In any case, Khelif has never been found to be ineligible by the IOC, and so was allowed to compete. She was born, lived as, and has always been a woman. But when Italian boxer Angela Carini took a punch to the nose and withdrew from their fight, the Olympics were accused of turning the beating of women by men into a spectator sport. 

     So who are we supposed to be mad at? It's hard to know, isn't it? But, obviously, we're supposed to be mad. The media tells us so. Social media. Conservatives think we should be mad at the liberals, and the liberals think we should be mad at the conservatives. You have to pick a side, right? WWJYA? -- Who Would Jesus Yell At? 

     Or maybe we don't have to be mad at anyone. Maybe we shouldn't be, in fact. Maybe one of the reasons that people are walking away from Christianity in droves is that anger is our default setting. We're always running hot, looking around for someone to be mad at. 

James wrote, two thousand years ago, "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires." I think we really need to hear that again. I think we really must take it seriously and live it out. 

     Human anger doesn't accomplish what God wants accomplished in society. Everyone does anger. Everyone is looking for a fight. What Christians bring to the table is something that we only get from the gospel, from "the word planted in you." Knowing Jesus means we can choose to listen. To ask questions. To really hear what people are saying. We need to listen before we speak. Sometimes we need to listen instead of speaking. 

     I think if James was with us today, he'd say you don't have to have a hot take on every news story. He'd say you don't have to post an opinion every time something happens in the world. 

If there was mockery intended in The Scene on the Seine, then those who put it together are still people. They're still loved by God, and what I haven't heard in any of the "Christian" hit pieces is an ounce of love. 

     Imane Khelif is a human being. So is Angela Carini, who had to say goodbye to the Olympic dream she worked so hard for. They aren't just positions on a spectrum, pawns in an ideological battle. There aren't always easy answers and black and white positions to stake out. Life gets messy. And so sometimes we have to just shut up, really try to listen to people, and refuse to bow the knee to those who say we have to have an answer. 

     Maybe we'll find out more. We'll find out, maybe, about injustice, corruption, abuse. Maybe we'll find out that everyone was innocent of wrongdoing. If so, will those who came with angry hot takes apologize? Or will they, more likely, delete the posts that embarrass them and turn their attention to the next outrage in the news cycle?

     But we know, human outrage and anger doesn't save. It doesn't help. It doesn't bring about true repentance and it doesn't transform lives. 

     The gospel can. Love can. Love that gathered broken people to a table together and offered his body and blood for them. Love that took the blows of outraged, angry people and didn't resist, didn't fight back.

     Will people in our world see that love from us? Or will they only see our outrage and anger?

About That "Very Critical Alert..."

 I've been asked a couple of times recently about a meme running around on social media. It's kind of a mashup of accusations against the New International Version and English Standard Version of the Bible, tinged with some Satanic Panic hysteria. Ordinarily I wouldn't think it would even deserve comment, but since I've been asked, and since we have the NIV in our pews at Northwest and I know some of us use the ESV, I thought maybe I should comment briefly.

     There are different versions of the post, but most of them start with something like "VERY CRITICAL ALERT." They go on to allege that the NIV and ESV have "removed 64,575 words from the Bible, including Jehovah, Calvary, Holy Ghost, and omnipotent, to name but a few." The post also says that the versions in question have "removed 45 complete verses." 

     You're advised at the end of the post that "if you must use the NIV or ESV, buy and keep an earlier version of the Bible." The loss of all these words and verses, the post alleges, happens when you're asked to update digital Bible apps. 

     There's so much ignorance here, willful or otherwise, that it makes your head spin.

     To address the words that the versions in question supposedly leave out: "Jehovah" occurs 4 times in the King James Version of the Bible, but is used much more often in the American Standard Version of 1901. It's a very awkward attempt to denote the name by which God revealed himself to Israel, often spelled Yahweh or just YHWH. Since Jewish people often tried to avoid pronouncing God's name (even when the pronunciation was known) to keep from taking his name in vain, they would substitute the word Adonai -- "Lord." "Jehovah" is the combination of the consonants of God's name with the vowels of adonai. It doesn't appear in the NIV or ESV because nearly every modern translation now signifies the name "Yahweh" by "LORD" (in all caps). God's name is not removed in those verses -- it's just translated "LORD."

     "Calvary" doesn't appear in Luke 23:33 because it's just a transliteration of a Latin word that means "skull." The NIV and ESV translate the word instead, and so, instead of "the place which is called Calvary," you have "the place called the skull" -- which is a better translation.

     "Holy Ghost" doesn't appear in the suspect translations because modern translations use "Holy Spirit." "Omnipotent" doesn't appear because newer translations choose "Almighty". Strong cases can be made that for modern English speakers, those choices are better.  

     As for the 45 verses supposedly "removed" -- it is closer to the truth to say that older translations "added" those verses. The people who translate the Bible from Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek to English (or any other language) need a base text to translate from. Since there is no "original Bible," translators work from handwritten copies of copies of copies, mostly in small pieces, a few complete or almost-complete manuscripts, and some quotations and sermons, ranging from the second century to the 13th or 14th century. All of those manuscripts and fragments differ from each other in small ways -- including words, phrases, verses, and a few even larger chunks that appear in some manuscripts and not others. 

     People who specialize in using those manuscripts to reconstruct
the text of the Bible that underlies our English translations are always working and revising as our understanding changes. They have criteria for making the decisions about what is most likely to be the original text of the Old and New Testaments. It isn't an exact science, but it IS a science.

     Earlier translations, like the KJV, used a base text that is different from the one used by more current translations, because the KJV translators didn't know about the many manuscripts discovered in the 413 years since it was published. Some of those differences include verses that are no longer regarded as original by most scholars who specialize in this field. Those 45 verses cited in the meme fall into this category. They include the longer ending of Mark, several instances in the Gospels in which harmonization occurred (Why "remove" Matthew 18:11 and leave Luke 19:10, which both say the same thing?), and instances like the Johannine Comma (1 John 5:7-8 in the KJV), in which it seems that commentary originally jotted in the margins of a manuscript was included in the Bible text by later copyists. 

     In short, the VERY CRITICAL ALERT actually describes the normal practice of biblical scholars who want to reconstruct as nearly as possible the original text of the Bible -- with nothing subtracted from it or added to it --  and translate it in a way that can be understood.

     Every major English translation that you're likely to get your hands on is useful and can be trusted. Don't fall for posts by people who, at best, don't understand the nuances of a very specific field of study. 

     Let's thank God for Scripture, and for the people who help to make it more accessible and understandable. And let's read it often -- whatever translation you choose!   

Trying a Different Bible: "Foaming at the Mouth" in Micah 2:6-11

 Sometimes a different Bible translation catches me flat-footed. It happened just recently to me in a study of the book of Micah. I asked someone to read out loud chapter 2:6-11, which in the New International Version (my default translation) says this:

“Do not prophesy,” their prophets say. “Do not prophesy about these things; disgrace will not overtake us.” 7 You descendants of Jacob, should it be said, “Does the LORD become impatient? Does he do such things?” Do not my words do good to the one whose ways are upright? 8 Lately my people have risen up like an enemy. You strip off the rich robe from those who pass by without a care, like men returning from battle. 9 You drive the women of my people from their pleasant homes. You take away my blessing from their children forever. 10 Get up, go away! For this is not your resting place, because it is defiled, it is ruined, beyond all remedy. 11 If a liar and deceiver comes and says, “I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,” that would be just the prophet for this people!

The reader used the New English Bible, and here’s what he read: 

How they rant! They may say, “Do not rant”; but this ranting is all their own, these insults are their own invention. 7 Can one ask, O house of Jacob, “Is the LORD’s patience truly at an end? Are these his deeds? Does good not come of the LORD’s words? He is the upright man’s best friend.” 8 But you are no people for me, rising up as my enemy to my face, to strip the cloak from his that was safe and take away the confidence of returning warriors, 9 to drive the women of my people from their pleasant homes and rob the children of my glory for ever. 10 Up and be gone; this is no resting-place for you, you that to defile yourselves would commit any mischief, mischief however cruel. 11 If anyone had gone about in a spirit of falsehood and lies, saying: “I will rant to you about wine and strong drink,” his ranting would be what this people like.

Just at a glance you can see the differences. There are several that would be interesting to talk about, but what struck me is the lack of explicit mention of anything related to prophecy in verse 6. 

     That was only strange to me because I took for granted that the NIV was pretty literal.

     It’s not, though neither, really, is the NEB. A very  literal translation of verse 6 might go something like this:

“Don’t drip,” they drip. They shouldn’t drip such things. We will not be overtaken by humiliation.”

Obviously, that’s not very helpful. This is an excellent example of how translation must sometimes include  interpretation in order to yield anything intelligible. This is a tough verse for folks who claim that the only good translation of the Bible is a very literal one. 

     So what’s going on here?

    The New English Translation (not related to the New English Bible), in one of their wonderful notes, suggests this translation: “‘Do not foam at the mouth,’ they foam at the mouth,” assuming that the use of “drip” has to do with spit flying from a speaker’s mouth during a particularly impassioned diatribe. In other words, in this view the prophets are “spraying” out words of judgment, and their hearers, with equal vehemence, are insisting that they shouldn’t say such vehement things. 

     The NET’s main translation isn’t quite as memorable, but still tries to capture something similar: “‘Don’t preach with such impassioned rhetoric,’ they say excitedly.” 

     The same word is used twice in verse 11. The NET has there, “If a lying windbag should come and say, ‘I’ll promise you blessings of wine and beer,’ he would be just the right preacher for these people!” In their note, though, they suggest, “If a lying windbag should come and say, ‘I will foam at the mouth concerning wine and beer,’ he would be the foamer at the mouth for this people.”

     (“Lying windbag,” is a great translation too.)

     While I love the “foaming at the mouth” translation, I’m not sure it’s validated by other places in the Old Testament where the same word refers to speaking. The word can be used of speech that isn’t vehement, and is even the opposite; take Job’s description of the respect he commanded before his troubles, where he says, “People listened to me expectantly, waiting in silence for my counsel. After I had spoken, they spoke no more; my words fell gently on their ears.” (Job 29:22) Or Song of Songs 4:11, where the Bride’s “lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb.” Or in Proverbs 5:3, where “the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey.”

     In Ezekiel, the prophet is told (in the King James Version) to “drop thy word toward the south” and “drop thy word toward the holy places” (NIV “preach against the south” and “preach against the sanctuary”). 

     In Amos, as in Micah, the prophet is told by (presumably) the leaders of Israel to “drop not thy word against the house of Isaac” (KJV). In each of these cases, perhaps the prophets were intense in their preaching, spit flying, foaming at the mouth; preaching “against” something or someone certainly suggests that.

     So what’s the “right” translation here? I’m not sure, to be honest. The NIV might miss something by just translating “drip” with “prophesy” in Micah 2. But the New English Translation and the NEB might oversell it with their “foaming at the mouth” and “ranting” translations.

     What different translations of the Bible give us are different options. They keep us from being locked in to one reading of texts that might limit or even prevent our understanding. 

     To be sure, those options are all human ones, and as such subject to every conceivable human weakness.

     But God has chosen to communicate his word to us in just that way. God’s word doesn’t change. But human language always does. So communicating that never-changing word will require some work, some patience, some prayer, and some humility.

     So when you see a difference between two translations don’t let it bother you. It’s not the sign of a conspiracy that someone is trying to change the Bible. It’s a sign that necessary hard work or interpretation is happening. That human beings still care to understand the Bible. 

     Let’s not be drips about it. Let’s not foam at the mouth over it. God still intends that his word will fall into our ears.

Split Decision

 Back in 1978, the Church of Christ on Oakton Street in the Chicago suburb of Des Plaines had a decision to make. I don’t know what all the decisions were. I was 10, and living anywhere near Chicago would not even be on my radar for at least another decade. But it came down to this: stay where they were, or buy a school in a nearby suburb that had been closed a couple of years earlier to use as a new building?

     Decisions like that can be difficult for churches. On the one hand, churches usually come to exist because they have a mission in a particular place and context, and it’s right to think long and hard about giving that up. On the other, sometimes God calls us to other places, and it’s right not to shut the door on that possibility without a lot of prayer and consideration. 

     Some decisions come down to, not right vs. wrong, but what’s the best of two valid choices. Maybe it’s like that more times than not. From a distance, as someone who was never directly involved in the decisions, that’s certainly what it seems like was the case with this church in the Chicago suburbs. One building had a high-traffic location on a major street. The other was in a residential area with lots of neighbors around. One had the church’s history. One was full of potential.

     I don’t know exactly how the decision was made, but it was made, and in May of 1978 the church bought that school and made the move.

     At least most of them did. A few families, convinced they shouldn’t leave Des Plaines, rented a field house and decided to keep meeting there. I don’t know if there were hurt feelings on both sides — I can imagine there might have been.

     Within a couple of weeks, though, and through a series of circumstances so improbable that a person of faith might seriously doubt that they were coincidence, that church that remained in Des Plaines had bought another building, on the corner of Illinois Street and Everett Avenue. Its members started referring to it, informally and affectionately, as “Little Des Plaines.”

     I know this because my wife and her mother and father were one of those families who stayed. They helped to buy the building, do maintenance, teach classes — they helped to sustain Little Des Plaines and helped it to survive and even thrive on that corner. 

     The rest of the church moved to Cardinal Drive, in Rolling Meadows, and they did the same there. 

     And a few years later, when Laura was a teenager and Cardinal Drive had a very active youth group, their family moved there. Another tough decision, another one that was more about two valid choices than right or wrong. They didn’t lose the friends they had at Little Des Plaines. And they were able to reconnect with friends they’d had at Oakton Street. 

     A few years later, when Laura and I married (at Cardinal Drive!), I preached a couple of times a month for a year and a half at Little Des Plaines. I helped teach and work with the youth group at Cardinal Drive. In both cases, I’m sure, because of the history Laura’s family had in both places. Both churches nourished and encouraged us. A few years later, our son even went to preschool at Cardinal Drive. 

     That’s my experience. I wasn’t part of the tough decisions, but was blessed by both churches. 

     In the Book of Acts, chapter 15, we get a look at some of the controversy that most people would rather think doesn’t and shouldn’t exist in the church. Paul and Barnabas, partners in a very successful mission trip, are planning to go back on the road. Barnabas wants to bring along a young man named John Mark, who had started off with them on their previous trip but had left them to go back home. Paul is adamant that he not go along. Barnabas is just as adamant that he should. (Maybe because John Mark was his cousin?)

     The result is that they go their own ways. The team breaks up, seemingly for good. That must have been hard; Barnabas had vouched for Paul when no one else in the church would trust him. He must have felt hurt that the partnership could end so easily. Paul must have felt the same. 

     But, notice this: they both go to share the gospel and encourage Christians. Neither of them stay home sulking. Paul picks another partner, Silas. Barnabas takes John Mark. Off they go, two missions, not one. 

     That’s how it works sometimes. 

     We don’t always know what’s best, none of us. Sometimes there will be disagreements in the church. Sometimes serious ones. The only way there won’t be is if part of the church is suppressing their sense of mission. Or someone else’s. 

      Because when you have a sense of mission, when you’re convinced that God is up to something that you want to be part of, you won’t be talked out of it. So when missions conflict, then maybe the best thing to do is not argue until someone gives in. Maybe, at least sometimes, the best thing to do is for both sides to follow what they think God is telling them. 

     Too often, churches suppress their sense of mission because influential members don’t want to do that. 

     Sometimes, church leaders give in on important things so they don’t upset members or “cause division.”

     Sometimes, churches find it easier to stifle the creativity and passion of members who see God’s possibilities for new paths. Or dismiss the conviction of members who want to stay on the old ones.

     There doesn’t always have to be a right and a wrong. Sometimes even “sharp disagreements” can serve the Lord’s purposes. One path becomes two. One church becomes two. One mission becomes two.

     All through Acts, we see Paul’s and Silas’ partnership thrive as they preach the gospel in Turkey, Greece, and Italy. We don’t hear much about Barnabas and Mark. But we have this, in one of Paul’s letters, a decade or two after he and Barnabas had their falling-out. Paul writes to Timothy: “Only Luke is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is helpful to me in my ministry. “ He’s in prison and feeling alone, and he asks for Mark to come. Mark — who he barely remembers left him on that first trip. Mark, who is helpful.

      We see what people are now, if that. Not what they can become. When we make tough decisions, let’s do our best not to demonize those who disagree. Let’s recognize that sometimes disagreement is exactly what God will use to do his work in the world. 

     By the way: both Cardinal Drive and “Little Des Plaines” still exist, doing God’s work in their neighborhoods. 

     Are you even the slightest bit surprised? 

The Center of the Universe

 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created:  things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 

-Colossians 1:15-17 (NIV)

Last month, designer Matt Webb debuted his new app. And the minute I read about it I decided immediately that I absolutely did not need it and positively had to have it.

     I downloaded the app, called Galactic Compass, from the app store while I was still reading the article. When you open it, you see a big green arrow on your screen. That’s pretty much it. There’s a secondary screen you can click on with some numbers, like latitude/longitude, pitch, yaw, heading, and a few others. And those numbers, if you understand them, maybe give you a hint as to what the arrow on Galactic Compass actually points to.

     Open up the app, put your phone on a flat surface, and the arrow points toward the supermassive black hole, Sagittarius A*, that is the rotational center of the galaxy we all live in, relative to our position on the earth and its position in orbit and rotation.

     To hear him tell it, Matt taught himself to find the center of the galaxy living in an apartment with a great view of the stars at night. He originally used augmented reality and astronomy apps to identify the stars and figure out where Sagittarius A* was, but eventually was able — supposedly — to point in the direction of the galaxy’s center, wherever he was and wherever the earth was in its rotation. It has to do with math and physics and identifying the constellation Sagittarius, and — well, I understand it completely, as far as you know. I just  don’t have the space here to explain it.

     Eventually, he was able to code an app that will enable you, too, to point out the center of the Milky Way. All you need is a phone and a flat surface to place it on. (The math “breaks down,” Webb says, if your phone isn’t held flat. Something he’s working on for an updated version.)

     The app’s free, so there’s no reason not to try it out. It’s a whole new way to procrastinate! Or, while you’re waiting for an oil change or a doctor’s appointment, you can ponder your place in the universe as you look toward the fixed point around which everything we know spins. That is, as a matter of fact, what Matt says about his app:

"Once you can follow it, you start to see the galactic center as the true fixed point, and we’re the ones whizzing and spinning. There it remains, the supermassive black hole at the center of our galaxy, Sagittarius A*, steady as a rock, eternal. We go about our days; it’s always there.”

     He uses what amounts to religious language to talk about the center of of the galaxy. Of course, what’s there isn’t God. It’s an unapproachable singularity that would “spaghettify” anyone who got near it. There’s no love, no compassion. It doesn’t make or keep promises. It doesn’t care about justice or righteousness. You can’t even see it; it’s just a big wad of darkness that draws everything toward it. Knowing where it is won’t matter when you’re sick, or when someone you love dies, or when you’ve lost a job or are struggling with financial problems or are depressed. And while knowing about it may indeed tell you something about your place in an impersonal universe, it tells you nothing about your nature as God’s creation, made in his image. 

     It serves pretty well as a center for the galaxy, I suppose.

     It’s not nearly as effective as a center of your universe.

     So what is? What’s at the center of your universe? When life has you “whizzing and spinning,” where do you look to keep your bearings? What’s the fixed point for you, steady as a rock, eternal? 

      Some of us choose family, friends, people we love. Our children. A spouse. A social group. We find our identity in these people. Our lives revolve around whether we’re making them happy or they’re making us happy. We can’t conceive of what we would be apart from them. But if that’s our center, then when those relationships change we’re left adrift.  

     Some of us choose a career. The work we do becomes our orbit. Our arrows are constantly pointing toward what we accomplish in our chosen field. We evaluate the success or failure of a given day by how productive we’ve been. But if our work is our galactic center, then a career setback is a catastrophe. A layoff is universe-destroying. 

     Some choose wealth and financial security as the fixed point around which everything else spins. Others might choose experiences, joy, pleasure. Health is a popular center for a lot of universes. But none of those things are solid enough, powerful enough, or eternal enough to hold everything together indefinitely. Eventually, all of them will be lost to our sight and we’ll be left drifting in cold, empty space, without adequate  bearings to tell us which way is up.

     Paul begins his letter to the church in Colosse with something to say about what holds everything together. A big green arrow, pointing toward galactic center. “The Son,” Paul calls him here. Jesus, who is the image of a God who can’t in any other way be imaged. His is the power by which everything has been created, and his is the power that continues to hold what God created together. 

     But it’s not just that God through Jesus created and sustains everything. This power is not impersonal — Paul goes on to write that “God was pleased  to have all his fullness dwell in [Jesus].” God created through Jesus because he wanted to. He wanted to make this universe we inhabit, he made it for us and he called it “good” and he intended for human beings to represent him in it. And when we failed, in Jesus he created us all over again. He “reconcile[d] to himself all things…by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.”  

     Jesus is the center of the universe. He’s the center because it’s in Jesus that God’s power to create, sustain, and reconcile all come together. And every one of his created beings, especially us, needs to be sustained and needs to be reconciled. Jesus made us. Jesus holds everything together for us. Jesus gives us peace. 

     Whether you can ever point to the black hole at the center of our galaxy will likely never make an appreciable difference in your life. But if your internal compass doesn’t point to Jesus as the center of your universe, steady as a rock, eternal — well, there will come a time when you won’t know which way’s up.

     But point all your arrows to him, and you always will. Even when everything else seems out of control.