There was a fourth identity that I carried. Apart from being a Child of God, a Texan, and a Southerner, I am also an African-American. Being an African-American never put me at odds with the first identity and rarely the second, but being an African-American did put me at odds with this Southern identity that I was largely being taught in predominantly white school systems and settings. It felt as if I could celebrate being Southern only to a point, because part of how we knew what it meant to be Southern was created by the division between states in the Civil War — this is how we know what it means to be part of the North and the South. After all, there are still folks in the South who call the Civil War "the War of Northern aggression."
I could not help but feel the tension of slavery that was often discussed in school, but was quickly put in the background of the discussion. There have always been people who were willing to argue that the Civil War had nothing to do with slavery. There have always been folks who have been willing to place the institution of slavery and Jim Crow in to the background of discussions about the South along with conversations about modern mass incarceration of African-Americans or the New Jim Crow, as it has been called. There is no question that the economic realities created by slavery are what built the old South and created much wealth and power for the nation. Wealth and power are too often created by the suffering of some to create the prospering of others. The horrors of slavery and Jim Crow need not be fully recounted here, but my sense of Southern pride could not help but be tempered by images of whipping, rape, lynching, and incarceration — the dark powers of the South.
Recently, there has been renewed attention to symbols of the Confederacy that survived its demise. The Confederate flag which is still incorporated into state flags, is flown on flag poles at homes and on trucks, is the feature of bumper stickers and tattoos... the list goes on and on. Images of and monuments to Confederate Generals are all over the South. Schools and roads among other things are named after them. I will never forget going into a country club for a business meeting in Nashville and being greeted by a massive painting of Robert E. Lee atop a grand fireplace. He was safe there. Until recently, he greeted me each time I entered a beloved church in Durham, North Carolina. And then there are the monuments to fallen Confederate Soldiers.
Confederate monuments were not erected immediately following the Civil War. Of the 700 or so that span the American South, most were erected between the 1890s and the 1950s — the Jim Crow era within American life. They were placed in city squares and in other prominent places within Southern towns and cities to represent not only memorials to fallen soldiers, but also to help people remember the Confederate cause. The United Daughters of the Confederacy raised much of the money needed for the monuments.
Let me be clear, I have no problem with the state honoring fallen soldiers in any way. I have many veterans in my family and am descendant of at least one Confederate soldier. Monuments to solders can be beautiful things which honor those who did what they felt was their duty to God and country. I do lament, however, that the honoring of fallen soldiers has been co-mingled with the preservation of the glory and memory of the Confederacy. This co-mingling of the two is also what makes it difficult to remove these monuments. A monument to a general is one thing, but monuments that are also dedicated to fallen solders and paid for by their sisters, daughters, and other relatives are hard to remove. Therein lies the power of the monument — a beautiful memorial that is also infused with a dark history. Which reminds me of Harry Potter.
J.K. Rowling has created one of the most endearing and defining franchises in modern literary history with the universe of stories within her Harry Potter mythology. As a child, I grew up with C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia and J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. These stories taught me about magic and power, good and evil, and the cosmic battle between them. Harry Potter has joined the ranks of these stories for a new generation of readers. I am always interested in how authors work out the struggle between good and evil. It is fascinating to see how evil works in their worlds and the methods by which evil is defeated by good. Think of Sauron’s One Ring and the ways its dark power pollutes and corrupts Middle Earth. The One Ring controls the rings of power given to dwarves, elves, and humans. The Rings of Power are beautiful things, but have dark histories and only submit to the One Ring.
One of the most fascinating aspects of J.K. Rowling’s work is the way personified evil in the form of the villain Voldemort remains alive even after pronounced defeat. [Spoilers ahead if you have not read any of the Harry Potter books or seen the films.] Voldemort is kept alive by the creation of horcruxes. A horcrux in the Potterverse is an object in which a wizard or witch hides part of their soul in order to attain immortality. The creation of a horcrux is considered to be very dark magic because one can only be created by the committing of murder. Voldemort had seven of them. Horcruxes are often beautiful things — a ring, a goblet, or a necklace imbued with a dark power and not easily destroyed unless it is destroyed beyond magical repair.
It seems to me that Confederate monuments are the horcruxes of the Confederacy. The Confederacy put the power of its tortured soul into a beautiful thing like a monument to fallen soldiers. The cause of the Confederacy still looms large when you think about these monuments. The dark power of the Confederacy, with its slave holding and subsequent Jim Crow practices, has a hold on these monuments. Read Julian Carr’s speech, delivered at the dedication of Silent Sam on the University of North Carolina’s campus, and you will see this violent power on display along with its claims of supremacy. At one point Carr says:
“The present generation, I am persuaded, scarcely takes note of what the Confederate soldier meant to the welfare of the Anglo Saxon race during the four years immediately succeeding the war, when the facts are, that their courage and steadfastness saved the very life of the Anglo Saxon race in the South — When “the bottom rail was on top” all over the Southern states, and to-day, as a consequence the purest strain of the Anglo Saxon is to be found in the 13 Southern States — Praise God.”
Immediately following this passage, Carr describes the violent beating of an African-American woman. He takes pride in doing what he calls this “pleasing duty” in front of Union troops. Again, violent power on display.
I lament that the memory of fallen soldiers was coopted by the Confederate agenda and I applaud any efforts to create memorials for these fallen soldiers that are devoid of dark history. Some suggest that we forget the Confederate origins of these monuments and only remember the soldiers. I do not believe we can forget. We have erected high places that have a kind of civil religiosity to them. These symbols affect us culturally and, I think, spiritually.
Thoughts about these monuments and their significance should raise questions for us. Does the state have the courage or the spiritual power to cast them down? What is the role of the Church as we live and worship in great proximity to many of these monuments? We must find answers to these questions together. What I do know is that while these monuments remain — while they tower over those who pass by — while they stand resolute and untouchable, they have a power, and part of the Confederacy lives.
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The morality of the death penalty by Doug Paysour
Pope Francis announces change
Pope Francis recently announced a change to the Roman Catholic Church’s catechism regarding the death penalty. Previously, the catechism stated, “The traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude . . . recourse to the death penalty, when this is the only practicable way to defend the lives of human beings effectively against the aggressor.” The new language in the catechism states:Recourse to the death penalty on the part of legitimate authority . . . was long considered an appropriate response to the gravity of certain crimes and an acceptable, albeit extreme, means of safeguarding the common good. Today, however, there is an increasing awareness that the dignity of the person is not lost even after the commission of very serious crimes. In addition, a new understanding has emerged of the significance of penal sanctions imposed by the state. Lastly, more effective systems of detention have been developed, which ensure the due protection of citizens but . . . do not definitively deprive the guilty of the possibility of redemption. Consequently, the Church teaches, in the light of the Gospel, that “the death penalty is inadmissible because it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person,” and she works with determination for its abolition worldwide.
In a recent New York Times article, Sister Helen Prejean, a Catholic nun and death penalty abolitionist who is well-known for Susan Sarandon’s depiction of her in the 1995 film Dead Man Walking, responded to this news by stating, “It’s a happy day. . . . What I’m particularly delighted about is there’s no loopholes. It’s unconditional.” However, proponents of the death penalty, such as the Reverend C. John McCloskey III, an influential Catholic teacher, have spoken more positively. In 2015, McCloskey said that church doctrine “does not and never has advocated unqualified abolition of the death penalty.”
Cases for and against
In a 2002 forum at the University of Chicago Divinity School, Supreme Court justice Antonin Scalia argued that the death penalty is moral. Reflecting on his Catholic faith, he stated that the church has always reserved the right for the state to act in ways different from individuals, to provide “wrath” for those who have done evil. In the case of the death penalty, Scalia appealed to Romans 13:1-5, where the apostle Paul states that everyone should be subject to the governing authorities, for those authorities are given their power by God and it’s within God’s will to use them as an instrument of God’s vengeance.Other defenders of the death penalty appeal to the idea of lex talionis, the notion of an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, and life for a life most famously found in Exodus 21:23-25. In this equation, justice requires the penalty to match the severity of the crime. If a person commits murder, only another life can balance the scales. This idea has been a part of the Catholic Church’s reasoning about capital punishment throughout history. It’s obvious as well that capital punishment was a part of ancient Hebrew practice.
On the other side of the debate, Elizabeth Morgan of Eastern University in St. Davids, Pennsylvania, argues in a Religion Online article, “There are too many mistakes for such a permanent solution; there are too many racial, IQ and class inequities; there is no conclusive evidence that the death penalty deters violent crime — and there is a good bit of evidence that it is violent crime. Also, it seems to me as a Christian that it contradicts the gospel call for forgiveness and truncates the possibility of transformation.”
Morgan’s final point is a primary reason cited by Francis and is also found in the United Methodist Social Principles. Essentially, by allowing someone to be put to death by the state, we short-circuit the possibility of repentance. A just penalty for the offender, therefore, isn’t the key factor in discerning our approach to capital punishment.
In a recent National Review article, Edward Mechmann points out that because Francis doesn’t use the phrase intrinsically evil when referring to the death penalty, this leaves the door open for future circumstances to influence the church. If Francis had used that terminology, it would have meant that there could be no further discussion about approving something as moral at some point in the future. This isn’t a radical change, Mechmann notes, but merely a further development in reflection over the death penalty in our current situation.
Church teaching vs. the polls
A recent Pew Research Poll suggests that the end of the death penalty may be a tough sell in the United States. The poll revealed that 53 percent of Catholics approve of the death penalty as a punishment for murder, which is in line with Americans in general at 54 percent. Thus, both the Pope’s declaration and the United Methodist Social Principles are likely out of step with a majority of their fellow Catholics and Methodists, respectively.However, support for the death penalty in the United States has been falling for years, and only recently has it rebounded to current levels. Prior to 2016, support had reached a four-decade low of 49 percent. Since more religious groups in the United States have public stances in opposition to the death penalty than in favor of it, the reality is that many American religious organizations are at odds with their adherents.
The question then becomes, Should religious organizations and their leaders reflect the opinions of their members, or should they provide spiritual leadership in contrast to their followers with the hope of changing their minds? It may be that the changes in attitude in recent years about the death penalty, along with other social issues, have come about through the spiritual leadership of some religious organizations. On the other hand, these may have begun as changes in the larger society that then filtered down into the church. This becomes a chicken-and-egg quandary.
What we can affirm is that throughout American and United Methodist history, spiritual leaders have often been part of the push for social change, from the abolition of slavery to women’s suffrage to changes in child labor laws, civil rights and more. We must remember, however, that not all spiritual leaders nor all church members agreed with these changes in their time. Spiritual leadership and popularity are often at odds with one another.
Be sure to check out FaithLink, a weekly downloadable discussion guide for classes and small groups.
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Lord, where can I go? by Kira Schlesinger
Those of us who preach from the Revised Common Lectionary finished up five weeks of the Bread of Life discourse in John 6 this past Sunday. From conversations online and in person, many of us were struck by Simon Peter’s answer to Jesus’ questioning of the twelve,“Do you also wish to go away?”
“Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”
At this moment in the church, many of us feel that weariness and sorrow that I read into Peter’s voice. The church-as-human-institution is not looking so good. There are scandals on every side, and those in power have used it to perpetuate the institution and their own authority at the expense of the most vulnerable. Although we might not be Roman Catholic, the scandals and abuse in the newspaper headlines affect us all as members of the Body of Christ. We also know that our own denominations are not innocent of similar abuses or of being perpetrators of sexism, racism, homophobia, and colonialism.
In the wake of revelations of abuse and improper behavior across the Christian church, our temptation can be to try to “recruit” others to our denomination or congregation. “See, you can still be a Christian in [my church] without all the baggage from [your church]!” This is disrespectful at best and potentially harmful. All of our traditions have their gifts and their flaws, and people wrestling with their personal allegiances, cultural ties, and theological commitments to their traditions should be lifted up in prayer.
As all of this shakes out, faithful people will discern that they should leave the church, and faithful people will discern that they should stay. Faithful people will take their gifts and talents away from the institutional church, and faithful people will use their gifts and talents to try and change the culture from within. Personally, I would never presume to tell someone how to respond. And yet, every time I have gotten angry or frustrated at the church, every time I have longed for a different institution or been jealous of my friends who spend Sunday mornings at brunch or on long bike rides, that Peter voice bubbles up within me: “Lord, to whom can I go?”
Sunday after Sunday, I show up at church, and I see glimpses of the Kingdom of God. I see it in the faces and eyes of those into whose hands I press the bread of heaven. I see it in the prayer shawls and the collections of canned goods and school supplies. I see it in the hymns and the sacraments and the potlucks. And I know these scenes are replicated throughout not just my city and state but across the country and world — broken, sinful people coming together to care for each other and their communities.
Lord, where else can I go? In our collect for this week, the Episcopal Church prays that “your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples.” It is possible that that power is one that is made perfect in weakness, in despair, and in degradation, just as Christ’s power was most evident on the cross.
For now, I know that I will stay because I need the Jesus that I find at church even when he is obscured. I need an hour every week, lifting up my voice in trembling praise to God with the other misfit toys. And I will pray that, by the grace of God, the church will truly become the Body of Christ.
This article is featured in the Decision 2019: One with Christ, One with each other, One in ministry to all the world (Aug/Sep/Oct 2018) issue of Circuit Rider
Accept each other with love, and make an effort to preserve the unity of the Spirit with the peace that ties you together. (Ephesians 4:2-3 CEB)
Ecumenical relationships, conversations, and partnerships are a gift. All of us have benefited from them in varying degrees across our life in the church. I recall most ecumenical relationships with fondness and appreciation, and only occasionally with tearful disappointment. Among the many blessings has been the opportunity to learn new (for me) terms and wrestle with familiar words in light of new contexts and relationships.
In recent years, the phrase “church dividing issue(s)” emerged. During a series of scheduled conversations in a bilateral dialogue of which I have been a part, these three words started to be used with regularity as the dialogue team began to reach some key decision points in our work. We would ask ourselves from time to time as we waded through the pivotal theological and ecclesiological topics, “Is this a church dividing issue?” Or sometimes a participant might declare, “This is not a church dividing issue.” This checkpoint helped each participant and the entire dialogue team to distinguish between truly substantive matters and pet peeves, quirks, or misconceptions. To be sure, arriving at consensus or reaching sufficient agreement to move the work forward was not always smooth or easy. At several places, it was hard won, punctuated by lots of prayer and sometimes uneasy silences. I refer not to the kind of planned silence to give space for prayer and meditation. It was more the silence birthed in one of those I can’t believe what I just heard moments. But testing our work and our progress by whether or not something was church dividing gave us reasonable confidence that our labors focused on things that really mattered in light of the gospel and the mission of the church.
The proclamation of the gospel and the mission of the church are at stake. If one of the marks or characteristics of authenticity for church is oneness, then the church in every iteration and expression must wrestle with whether it embodies this quality or not. Oneness is not only the stuff of ecumenism. It is also essential and ongoing work within distinct church bodies or denominations. In the case of The United Methodist Church, now fifty years old but with roots much older, we must determine for ourselves what are and what are not church dividing issues. What rises to a level of importance that schism might be the most obvious, preferred, or best option?
Even a cursory reading of the New Testament and of church history make it plain in short order that people of Christian faith have found themselves at such odds that they determined they could no longer walk together or work together. Think about it. The Apostle Paul spent more than a little time urging and praying for the unity of the early Christian communities he sought to lead and encourage. He exhorts, cajoles, and sometimes paints with words a picture of what oneness and unity look like. Who among us has not turned repeatedly to the body images he paints? Yet even Paul has some record of separation from others; namely Barnabas and John Mark (see Acts 15). It is not altogether clear whether this was a theological difference or, more likely, a personality one. Thanks be to God, there are intimations elsewhere in the record that there was some redemption, if not explicit healing and reconciliation. So clearly from the beginning, Christians have struggled with what it means to be bound together for the sake of the mission. We have not always been successful in this.
Beyond the pages of the New Testament, there have been all sorts of partings of the way for those who make up the church. People have engaged in vigorous conversations about how to articulate the faith and live it out in practical ways. These conversations sometimes began in formal church councils. Sometimes they were more movemental, triggered by the assertion of a new interpretation of scripture, the activity of the Spirit in an individual or small group who pursued a particular focus they felt called to emphasize. This short (not exhaustive) list points to a few crucial turning points in which the church experienced division or radical change:
Nicea
Constantinople
The Great Schism of East and West
The Reformation
In our own Methodist tradition, there have been notable divisions over matters of race, worship practices, leadership and authority, how the Spirit evidences its work in the Christian life, and on and on. Occasionally there have been some reunions, and some would rightly ask, “but at whose expense?”
Not only do the scriptures bend in the direction of urging oneness and unity, but so do the witness and teaching of John Wesley. His thinking on these matters shows up in a number of places. Among them are “On Schism,” “Catholic Spirit,” and “A Letter to a Roman Catholic.” I also love the attention he gives to matters of unity and division in the church in “A Plain Account of Christian Perfection.” Wesley returns repeatedly to several themes in his guidance: humility, liberty of thought, and love. He also challenges us to both affirm and question what is essential for salvation and for the mission of the church. These instructive words are from “The Character of a Methodist”:
"But as to all opinions, which do not strike at the root of Christianity, we think and let think. So that whatsoever they are, whether right or wrong, they are no distinguishing marks of a Methodist."
The question before us in the present struggle of The United Methodist Church over matters of human sexuality, and homosexuality in particular, is whether or not “it strikes at the root of Christianity.” How we answer that will speak loads about the gospel to the world and determine, at least in part, our missional and institutional future.
In this meditation on Song of Songs 2:8-13 I'm going to interpret it, not literally, but allegorically, like the ancient and medieval Christians so frequently interpreted the Song. Reading it this way, it's a mystical romance between the reader and Christ, with the reader (of whatever sex) playing the part of the female lover and Christ in the part of the male lover, or Solomon. Indeed, if the literal or historical sense of this book is interesting, the allegorical or mystical sense of this book is far more so. Literally, the Song of Songs is sexy ancient love poetry.* But allegorically or mystically, it's sexy love poetry between the soul and the Lord, which, though it utterly exceeds the understanding, has got to be far better.
The approach
"The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills" (2:8).
These mountains can be understood, in one sense, as challenges, griefs, trials in our lives. Your Beloved leaps and bounds over these, past these, to be with you. There's no mountain so great that the voice of God your beloved can't go over it, and there's no challenge that can keep you from God's coming to you. Jesus Christ, in death and resurrection, has passed through all challenges to come be with you — and here he comes, over the hills.
This verse can also be understood as saying, even more specifically, that the Beloved crosses over the hills to come be with you in the valley beneath. On Mount Horeb and Sinai God comes down, it says, or descends to talk with Moses, to make Moses the deliverer of his people from slavery, and to give the laws by which they'll live in covenant with God. Yet, to do the delivering, God doesn't just come down to the peak or heights of the mountain, but God comes down into the valley of slavery, to deliver the people in the depths of the wilderness, and from Pharaoh's army through the Red Sea. In that way, God in Jesus Christ doesn't just call to you across the mountains, or call to you from the top of the mountains. God leaps across the mountains and crosses the hills for you, lover of God, going down further, all the way down, down to the valley. Like Jesus after his transfiguration goes down the mountain to do the work of healing. And Jesus goes down all the way to the cross, to suffer and die on the cross, to unite us all to God since even our sin, suffering, and death has been enfolded experientially in the mercy-filled love of God.
Twelfth century theologian and mystic Hugh of St. Victor praises divine Love like this:
You [Love] are the road of the human to God and the road of God to the human.... God descends when He comes to us; we ascend when we go to God. Yet neither God nor we are able to go to the other except through you. You [Love] are the mediator, uniting opposites, associating the disconnected, and leveling in a certain way dissimilar things. You bring God low and lift us high. You draw God down to the lowest and lift us up to the highest.... O [Love], how great is your victory! First you wounded the One [i.e. Jesus Christ], and through Him subsequently you have overcome all.**
The LORD is leaping over the hills, and coming down into the valleys, for you, brought low by Love.
Praise for the Beloved's energy and strength
"My beloved is like a gazelle, or a young stag" (2:9a).
In this verse, the soul praises the energy and the exuberance and speed with which God in Christ pursues it.
But why, the soul must wonder, does God pursue it with such youth and energy?
The LORD pursues your love with such energy because you're worthy. You're beautiful.
I'm not beautiful in terms of all my choices — and maybe you aren't either.
I'm not beautiful in terms of all my fears — maybe you aren't either.
Nevertheless, the LORD has made you beautiful, "very good" (Gen. 1:31), and the LORD is making you beautiful still.
The LORD has given you the Holy Spirit, without measure.
In the past, sins and fears have driven you; now the LORD's Spirit moves you toward that which is truly beautiful, to that which is truly Good. You pine for the imageless LORD beyond all things, the unimaginable LORD revealed and made visible in Jesus Christ, who reveals the LORD's intimacy with you in a vulnerability and a suffering which transcends all things, enfolds all things, redeems all things.
The LORD, pouring in you the Spirit, is building in you the virtues, the habits, the strengths and beauties of character you need for every day.
All of this and more is why I say that the LORD is making you beautiful still. This beauty God is making in you is itself the reason God loves you and pursues you with the eager-for-life leaping strength of a young stag.
Glimpsing and longing
"Behold, there he stands behind our wall, gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice" (2:9b).
This verse brings to mind the longing of perhaps high school romance, or first love. The LORD here is imaged almost as a teenage boy, excited and eager to catch even a glimpse of his beloved, walking out of his way to go past her house just in case she might look out the window as he's going by, just so he might catch one fleeting glimpse which will be more to him than all the world.
Even so, what a gift it will be, what a gift it will be, when we'll be freed from the distractions and fears and pains which lord it over us so unfairly in this life, when we can be united to the Lord, when the wall comes down and the lattice separating us is no more.
The call of the Beloved
And then, the call comes. This is the call of the Beloved, which is the call of God.
"Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away" (2:10).
Listen to that call now. This Song is not about some love in the distant past. If you but listen it breaks into this very moment. Don't miss this moment, this moment in which the Beloved's call comes through sound and silence, comes through speech and singing, comes through boredom and discomfort, comes through the bodies of the people around you and the dead wood of church pews. "Come away with me," God calls in your soul, with a whisper which deafens all noise, silencing sound, silencing silence into song.
"for Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone" (2:11).
That the winter is past means that the time of sin's victory is past, the time of your avoidance is past, our paralyzing lethargy is past. The winter of our weakness and sloth is past.
The rains that kept us from journeying to God are at an end — so arise. Rise up and go, like Abram and Sarai, like Matthew and Mary Magdalene, follow the One you know without seeing, the beloved who fills you with inexhaustible and glorious joy.
"The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land" (2:12a).
Flowers of beauty have grown up in your soul. The rain, that before prevented you from being with your Love, the rain that was a struggle, has brought forth flowers, gifts, good and perfect gifts from above. The Son's light makes them possible. The Son of God is the Light of God refracted through and overcoming the darkness of our struggles and sins; and flowers spring up in his midst; flowers of inexpressible beauty, like Mary who said, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum — "let it be to me according to your word" (Lk. 1:38).
Let it be with you, dear reader, according to the Word of the LORD, for the time of singing has come.
"The voice of the turtledove is heard in our land" (2:12b).
The turtledove is a kind of dove whose behavior towards its mate appears deeply affectionate. When the turtledove sings, love songs are heard in the sky, all around. It is the music of uniting.
When the flood was over, the dove brought an olive branch back to Noah; there is peace to be had beyond the flood of this life.
When Jesus was baptized, the Holy Spirit descended on him like dove, manifesting in history the eternal relationship of Love or Spirit between Father and Son. That's the eternal Love that calls us into the circle.
"The fig tree puts forth its fits, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance" (2:13a).
All good things are ripening, becoming sweet, giving off their beauty; taste and see that the LORD is good.
"Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away" (2:13b) sings God, blooms God, ripens and fructifies God your soul...
What more can I say? What more is there to say? The words in Song of Songs 2 beyond this passage speak of delights between the soul and God, between your soul and God, too secret and lovely to reduce to my words. But, if you've known God, you've known them or started to know them.
So arise, stand up, stand out of your fear, out of your sin, out of your dying body, and bring all its goodness with you, and let us rise, and follow, and follow, and go, and go away into the dark, into the secret where God sees, into an enigma, into the place of union where we're hidden with Christ in God.
Notes:
* Paul J. Griffiths, Song of Songs (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2011) xxiii.
** Hugh of St. Victor, On the Praise of Charity, sections 10 and 12, in Hugh Feiss OSB, ed., On Love (Hyde Park: New City Press, 2012), 163-5.
One reason may be financial: Parties and their special interest groups are flush with cash to mobilize their side and demonize the other. Media organizations must feed their readers’ demand for news and analysis about party politics. I have written dozens of columns about Republicans and Democrats. This is my first about independents.
Most experts agree that people who claim to be independents actually behave like partisans. But if people like saying they are independent, we should pay attention to the reasons why. Today, about 40 percent of Americans identify as independent, more than those who identify as Democrat (about a third) or Republican (about a quarter).
When faith factors into the mix, we run into generalizations about devout Republicans and secular Democrats. While true in the aggregate, these oft-repeated caricatures obscure a greater truth we observe in data and in front of our faces: The religious landscape is politically varied.
The fundamental question is one of causality. For decades, scholars and practitioners agreed that religion was the causal factor that, like sex, race or income, shaped political attitudes and behaviors. New research upends that assumption. Based on a wave of new studies, University of Pennsylvania professor Michele M. Margolis has convincingly shown that partisanship affects religiosity. This aligns with research suggesting that partisanship is a foundational social identity, driving rather than flowing from values and attitudes.
What does all this mean for religion? For one thing, we should look at how people bring their social and religious beliefs in line with their party instead of assuming their faith shapes their politics. This goes a long way toward explaining, for example, white evangelicals’ overwhelming support for President Trump despite his obvious deficiencies.
Instead of assuming that Christianity is their primary loyalty, perhaps we should see evangelicals as Republicans first who toss religious values aside to accommodate their unconditional Trump support. Likewise, we should consider that ideology trumps theology when explaining progressives’ enthusiasm for the sexual revolution.
The rise of independents has implications for both religion and politics. Political parties craft focused appeals to specific religious groups because it is inexpensive and can be very effective. But without a party organization, independent candidates have no models or structures for faith outreach. Their difficulty is compounded by the fact that many of them are socially tolerant fiscal conservatives; religious values tend not to motivate their policies and religious rhetoric won’t win them over.
Last weekend in Denver, independent leaders and activists convened to assess their movement. I attended the meeting and noticed the absence of God talk. In one sense, it was a refreshing change because so much religious rhetoric in campaigns is empty pandering, discrediting both religion and politics.
But independent candidates likely will not succeed in a religious nation without understanding and accepting the values Americans bring to the political arena. And since the parties’ faith outreach has become so tired and predictable, an opportunity exists for independents to lead us in new, healthy debates and discourse.
In Kansas, Republicans rejected their sensible incumbent governor in favor of the famously anti-immigrant Kris Kobach, who led a voter fraud commission at Trump’s behest after the president outrageously claimed 3 million illegal votes were cast in 2016 (the commission found nine).
Kansas conservatives likely won’t vote for the Democrat, but independent candidate Greg Orman should ask Kansas’ many white Christians whether they want an anti-immigrant governor whose candidacy hinges on his ardent enthusiasm for Trump, a race-baiter who built his political career on the racist delegitimization of a black president.
U.S. Sen. Claire McCaskill, a Democrat, faces another tough election in Missouri. The state’s Democratic Party recently struck down platform language that would have welcomed pro-life Democrats into the fold. And the Republican National Committee stepped in and funneled money to the Trump-anointed pick (Josh Hawley) before Missouri Republicans had a chance to pick their candidate.
In this contest, independent candidate Craig O’Dear can appeal to voters caught in between ugly, unrepresentative party politics.
Maryland, home to large numbers of African-Americans and Catholics whose values do not fully align with either party, has an independent alternative in U.S. Senate candidate Neal Simon. The pro-choice, pro-Israel businessman emphasizes cooperation and compromise, and he stands out in a race dominated by the lackluster incumbent Democrat and an unelectable and mostly unknown Republican.
The growing number of independents running credible campaigns for state and federal office can craft creative, refreshing and effective appeals to voters, regardless of their party or religion. At its best, religious faith resists the lures of partisanship and political power. If more voters and candidates rise up to break the two-party duopoly, a new kind of politics can give more meaningful expression to Americans’ values
Not only do the scriptures bend in the direction of urging oneness and unity, but so do the witness and teaching of John Wesley. His thinking on these matters shows up in a number of places. Among them are “On Schism,” “Catholic Spirit,” and “A Letter to a Roman Catholic.” I also love the attention he gives to matters of unity and division in the church in “A Plain Account of Christian Perfection.” Wesley returns repeatedly to several themes in his guidance: humility, liberty of thought, and love. He also challenges us to both affirm and question what is essential for salvation and for the mission of the church. These instructive words are from “The Character of a Methodist”:
"But as to all opinions, which do not strike at the root of Christianity, we think and let think. So that whatsoever they are, whether right or wrong, they are no distinguishing marks of a Methodist."
The question before us in the present struggle of The United Methodist Church over matters of human sexuality, and homosexuality in particular, is whether or not “it strikes at the root of Christianity.” How we answer that will speak loads about the gospel to the world and determine, at least in part, our missional and institutional future.
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The approach
"The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills" (2:8).
These mountains can be understood, in one sense, as challenges, griefs, trials in our lives. Your Beloved leaps and bounds over these, past these, to be with you. There's no mountain so great that the voice of God your beloved can't go over it, and there's no challenge that can keep you from God's coming to you. Jesus Christ, in death and resurrection, has passed through all challenges to come be with you — and here he comes, over the hills.
This verse can also be understood as saying, even more specifically, that the Beloved crosses over the hills to come be with you in the valley beneath. On Mount Horeb and Sinai God comes down, it says, or descends to talk with Moses, to make Moses the deliverer of his people from slavery, and to give the laws by which they'll live in covenant with God. Yet, to do the delivering, God doesn't just come down to the peak or heights of the mountain, but God comes down into the valley of slavery, to deliver the people in the depths of the wilderness, and from Pharaoh's army through the Red Sea. In that way, God in Jesus Christ doesn't just call to you across the mountains, or call to you from the top of the mountains. God leaps across the mountains and crosses the hills for you, lover of God, going down further, all the way down, down to the valley. Like Jesus after his transfiguration goes down the mountain to do the work of healing. And Jesus goes down all the way to the cross, to suffer and die on the cross, to unite us all to God since even our sin, suffering, and death has been enfolded experientially in the mercy-filled love of God.
Twelfth century theologian and mystic Hugh of St. Victor praises divine Love like this:
You [Love] are the road of the human to God and the road of God to the human.... God descends when He comes to us; we ascend when we go to God. Yet neither God nor we are able to go to the other except through you. You [Love] are the mediator, uniting opposites, associating the disconnected, and leveling in a certain way dissimilar things. You bring God low and lift us high. You draw God down to the lowest and lift us up to the highest.... O [Love], how great is your victory! First you wounded the One [i.e. Jesus Christ], and through Him subsequently you have overcome all.**
The LORD is leaping over the hills, and coming down into the valleys, for you, brought low by Love.
Praise for the Beloved's energy and strength
"My beloved is like a gazelle, or a young stag" (2:9a).
In this verse, the soul praises the energy and the exuberance and speed with which God in Christ pursues it.
But why, the soul must wonder, does God pursue it with such youth and energy?
The LORD pursues your love with such energy because you're worthy. You're beautiful.
I'm not beautiful in terms of all my choices — and maybe you aren't either.
I'm not beautiful in terms of all my fears — maybe you aren't either.
Nevertheless, the LORD has made you beautiful, "very good" (Gen. 1:31), and the LORD is making you beautiful still.
The LORD has given you the Holy Spirit, without measure.
In the past, sins and fears have driven you; now the LORD's Spirit moves you toward that which is truly beautiful, to that which is truly Good. You pine for the imageless LORD beyond all things, the unimaginable LORD revealed and made visible in Jesus Christ, who reveals the LORD's intimacy with you in a vulnerability and a suffering which transcends all things, enfolds all things, redeems all things.
The LORD, pouring in you the Spirit, is building in you the virtues, the habits, the strengths and beauties of character you need for every day.
All of this and more is why I say that the LORD is making you beautiful still. This beauty God is making in you is itself the reason God loves you and pursues you with the eager-for-life leaping strength of a young stag.
Glimpsing and longing
"Behold, there he stands behind our wall, gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice" (2:9b).
This verse brings to mind the longing of perhaps high school romance, or first love. The LORD here is imaged almost as a teenage boy, excited and eager to catch even a glimpse of his beloved, walking out of his way to go past her house just in case she might look out the window as he's going by, just so he might catch one fleeting glimpse which will be more to him than all the world.
Even so, what a gift it will be, what a gift it will be, when we'll be freed from the distractions and fears and pains which lord it over us so unfairly in this life, when we can be united to the Lord, when the wall comes down and the lattice separating us is no more.
The call of the Beloved
And then, the call comes. This is the call of the Beloved, which is the call of God.
"Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away" (2:10).
Listen to that call now. This Song is not about some love in the distant past. If you but listen it breaks into this very moment. Don't miss this moment, this moment in which the Beloved's call comes through sound and silence, comes through speech and singing, comes through boredom and discomfort, comes through the bodies of the people around you and the dead wood of church pews. "Come away with me," God calls in your soul, with a whisper which deafens all noise, silencing sound, silencing silence into song.
"for Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone" (2:11).
That the winter is past means that the time of sin's victory is past, the time of your avoidance is past, our paralyzing lethargy is past. The winter of our weakness and sloth is past.
The rains that kept us from journeying to God are at an end — so arise. Rise up and go, like Abram and Sarai, like Matthew and Mary Magdalene, follow the One you know without seeing, the beloved who fills you with inexhaustible and glorious joy.
"The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land" (2:12a).
Flowers of beauty have grown up in your soul. The rain, that before prevented you from being with your Love, the rain that was a struggle, has brought forth flowers, gifts, good and perfect gifts from above. The Son's light makes them possible. The Son of God is the Light of God refracted through and overcoming the darkness of our struggles and sins; and flowers spring up in his midst; flowers of inexpressible beauty, like Mary who said, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum — "let it be to me according to your word" (Lk. 1:38).
Let it be with you, dear reader, according to the Word of the LORD, for the time of singing has come.
"The voice of the turtledove is heard in our land" (2:12b).
The turtledove is a kind of dove whose behavior towards its mate appears deeply affectionate. When the turtledove sings, love songs are heard in the sky, all around. It is the music of uniting.
When the flood was over, the dove brought an olive branch back to Noah; there is peace to be had beyond the flood of this life.
When Jesus was baptized, the Holy Spirit descended on him like dove, manifesting in history the eternal relationship of Love or Spirit between Father and Son. That's the eternal Love that calls us into the circle.
"The fig tree puts forth its fits, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance" (2:13a).
All good things are ripening, becoming sweet, giving off their beauty; taste and see that the LORD is good.
"Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away" (2:13b) sings God, blooms God, ripens and fructifies God your soul...
What more can I say? What more is there to say? The words in Song of Songs 2 beyond this passage speak of delights between the soul and God, between your soul and God, too secret and lovely to reduce to my words. But, if you've known God, you've known them or started to know them.
So arise, stand up, stand out of your fear, out of your sin, out of your dying body, and bring all its goodness with you, and let us rise, and follow, and follow, and go, and go away into the dark, into the secret where God sees, into an enigma, into the place of union where we're hidden with Christ in God.
Notes:
* Paul J. Griffiths, Song of Songs (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2011) xxiii.
** Hugh of St. Victor, On the Praise of Charity, sections 10 and 12, in Hugh Feiss OSB, ed., On Love (Hyde Park: New City Press, 2012), 163-5.
Can independents refresh our debates over faith and politics? by Jacob Lupfer / Religion News Service
RNS photo illustration by Kit Doyle
(RNS) — After years of scrutinizing the relationship between faith and politics for Republicans and Democrats, I recently realized I had overlooked political independents. Many of my colleagues in academia and journalism have, too.One reason may be financial: Parties and their special interest groups are flush with cash to mobilize their side and demonize the other. Media organizations must feed their readers’ demand for news and analysis about party politics. I have written dozens of columns about Republicans and Democrats. This is my first about independents.
Most experts agree that people who claim to be independents actually behave like partisans. But if people like saying they are independent, we should pay attention to the reasons why. Today, about 40 percent of Americans identify as independent, more than those who identify as Democrat (about a third) or Republican (about a quarter).
When faith factors into the mix, we run into generalizations about devout Republicans and secular Democrats. While true in the aggregate, these oft-repeated caricatures obscure a greater truth we observe in data and in front of our faces: The religious landscape is politically varied.
The fundamental question is one of causality. For decades, scholars and practitioners agreed that religion was the causal factor that, like sex, race or income, shaped political attitudes and behaviors. New research upends that assumption. Based on a wave of new studies, University of Pennsylvania professor Michele M. Margolis has convincingly shown that partisanship affects religiosity. This aligns with research suggesting that partisanship is a foundational social identity, driving rather than flowing from values and attitudes.
What does all this mean for religion? For one thing, we should look at how people bring their social and religious beliefs in line with their party instead of assuming their faith shapes their politics. This goes a long way toward explaining, for example, white evangelicals’ overwhelming support for President Trump despite his obvious deficiencies.
Instead of assuming that Christianity is their primary loyalty, perhaps we should see evangelicals as Republicans first who toss religious values aside to accommodate their unconditional Trump support. Likewise, we should consider that ideology trumps theology when explaining progressives’ enthusiasm for the sexual revolution.
The rise of independents has implications for both religion and politics. Political parties craft focused appeals to specific religious groups because it is inexpensive and can be very effective. But without a party organization, independent candidates have no models or structures for faith outreach. Their difficulty is compounded by the fact that many of them are socially tolerant fiscal conservatives; religious values tend not to motivate their policies and religious rhetoric won’t win them over.
Last weekend in Denver, independent leaders and activists convened to assess their movement. I attended the meeting and noticed the absence of God talk. In one sense, it was a refreshing change because so much religious rhetoric in campaigns is empty pandering, discrediting both religion and politics.
But independent candidates likely will not succeed in a religious nation without understanding and accepting the values Americans bring to the political arena. And since the parties’ faith outreach has become so tired and predictable, an opportunity exists for independents to lead us in new, healthy debates and discourse.
In Kansas, Republicans rejected their sensible incumbent governor in favor of the famously anti-immigrant Kris Kobach, who led a voter fraud commission at Trump’s behest after the president outrageously claimed 3 million illegal votes were cast in 2016 (the commission found nine).
Kansas conservatives likely won’t vote for the Democrat, but independent candidate Greg Orman should ask Kansas’ many white Christians whether they want an anti-immigrant governor whose candidacy hinges on his ardent enthusiasm for Trump, a race-baiter who built his political career on the racist delegitimization of a black president.
U.S. Sen. Claire McCaskill, a Democrat, faces another tough election in Missouri. The state’s Democratic Party recently struck down platform language that would have welcomed pro-life Democrats into the fold. And the Republican National Committee stepped in and funneled money to the Trump-anointed pick (Josh Hawley) before Missouri Republicans had a chance to pick their candidate.
In this contest, independent candidate Craig O’Dear can appeal to voters caught in between ugly, unrepresentative party politics.
Maryland, home to large numbers of African-Americans and Catholics whose values do not fully align with either party, has an independent alternative in U.S. Senate candidate Neal Simon. The pro-choice, pro-Israel businessman emphasizes cooperation and compromise, and he stands out in a race dominated by the lackluster incumbent Democrat and an unelectable and mostly unknown Republican.
The growing number of independents running credible campaigns for state and federal office can craft creative, refreshing and effective appeals to voters, regardless of their party or religion. At its best, religious faith resists the lures of partisanship and political power. If more voters and candidates rise up to break the two-party duopoly, a new kind of politics can give more meaningful expression to Americans’ values
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jacob Lupfer / Religion News Service
Jacob Lupfer is a frequent commentator on religion and American public life. A Ph.D. candidate in political science at read more… 
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What we love matters by Jake Owensby
Much of the literary world blinked uncomprehendingly when the Nobel Committee first announced the winner of the 2016 prize for literature. Bob Dylan. Yes, that Bob Dylan. The folk singer. The rock star. The counter-culture hippie poet with a marginal singing voice. In some circles, that stunned silence morphed into contempt and even outrage.Placing Dylan on a list that includes the likes of Doris Lessing, Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez, Toni Morrison, and Saul Bellow was more than preposterous. It was insulting. The prestige of the Nobel Prize for Literature would be forever diminished.
By contrast, Dylan’s Nobel honor put a smile on my face. I’m a Dylan fan, especially early Dylan. “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are a-Changin’” appealed to me when I was younger and, I think, speak truth to us now.
My problem with Dylan came in 1979. That’s when he started a three-year period as a born-again Evangelical Christian. The quality of his music declined over that period, but what really stuck in my craw was the preachy, hellfire-and-brimstone posture he took on stage.
Nevertheless, he produced one hit in which even atheists like Christopher Hitchens hear an enduring spiritual truth. It’s called “Gotta Serve Somebody.” Here’s an excerpt:
"You may be a businessman or some high degree thief,
They may call you doctor or they may call you chief,
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody
You may be a construction worker working on a home,
You may be living in a mansion or might live in a dome
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody"
Jesus’ teachings inspired these lyrics, but they could just as easily have come from the Hebrew Scriptures with which the young Jewish boy Robert Zimmerman—now Bob Dylan—would have been familiar.
In his farewell speech to the tribes of Israel, Moses’s successor Joshua said this:
"Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living.” (Joshua 24:15)
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To put it simply, you’re gonna have to serve somebody. Our actions embody a deep commitment, a devotion, to something or to someone. Whether we realize it or not, whether we name it this way or not, something or someone becomes our god.By “god” here I’m referring to whatever it is that individuals and communities believe will give their lives meaning; whatever will make their lives matter, make their lives significant. Even if we make no conscious decision on the matter, our habitual actions—the patterns of our lives—betray what god we are worshipping. They reveal what we entrust our very being to.
Some people chase celebrity. Others pursue wealth or power or social status or just more stuff. They may neglect their families or their health or their integrity to get applause or to exercise control or to accumulate possessions.
We can so devote ourselves to power, prestige, and possessions that they function as our gods. Pursuit of them shapes how we act, the relationships we form, the values we inhabit, how we think about ourselves, and how we treat other people. This is what Richard Rohr calls serving three P’s. The Bible refers to small “g” gods as idols.
Here’s the catch: We’re gonna have to serve somebody, but we can end up serving somebody who isn’t worth serving. These small “g” gods offer what they cannot deliver. They offer to satisfy our deepest longings; those longings are for the infinite and the eternal.
We don’t want our lives to matter for a mere fifteen minutes and then be forgotten in the fog of history. We want our loves and our losses, our struggles and our victories to have meant something—to mean something—forever.
Applause fades. You can’t take your stock portfolio with you beyond the grave. Every athletic record gets broken. Every president, world champion, and Nobel Laureate is replaced by the next one.1
There is only one capital “G” God who delivers on the promise to make life infinitely and eternally significant: the God who made us in order to love us. The God who loves us so that we can share that love with one another. To serve this God is to commit ourselves to loving what that God loves how that God loves it. And that God loves the entire creation.
At the dedication of the first Temple, King Solomon said as much. “O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart.” (1 Kings 8:23).
We’re all gonna serve somebody; the patterns of our lives will reveal who or what that is. We serve the God of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob, Leah, and Rachel. We serve the God of Jesus when we make the pattern of our lives the way of love.
"What We Love Matters" originally appeared at Looking for God in Messy Places. Reprinted with permission.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jake Owensby
Jake Owensby is the fourth Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Western Louisiana. Jake is the author of several books read more… 
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Summer rebound by Don Underwood
If you’ve been reading this column for several years, you know I tend to become pretty passionate during late March and early April as we see the arrival of spring. The transformation it brings to our north Texas landscape is nothing less than remarkable. For me, it symbolizes birth, renewal, resurrection.This past week I have been observing a similar kind of transformation that doesn’t happen as often or on schedule, but which is equally wondrous. The country north of Dallas, where my little Siete Ranch retreat is located, has been in an extended drought, exacerbated by a string of 110-degree days. The result has been devastating. Watering the tiny front yard in front of my barn did little to slow the damage to the Bermuda grass; for the first time I feared that my stock tank might dry up; some of the cracks in the land were wide enough to swallow a horse’s hoof or break a calf’s leg. The country all around had turned to a dusty brown color, and all of us who raise cattle have been scrambling for hay.
Just as I was about to give up hope, we got four inches of rain over a two-day period at Siete Ranch. Within forty-eight hours the grass was greening up, and now the entire countryside is verdant and thriving in a way rarely seen this time of the year. What we believed would be a disastrous end-of-summer has turned into a fruitful beginning for the coming fall season. Ironically, it appears to my eye that the preceding drought actually contributed somehow to a magnificent summer rebound.
Nature has been my great teacher in recent years. Under its tutelage I have learned how to read the Bible more intelligently, and I have gained deeper insights into the rhythm of life, death, and resurrection. Nature is God’s original revelation, the source of wisdom for those who first began to pass on the Oral Tradition we now call scripture. And nature has taught me that when we think we are in what feels like an interminable dry season, it is time to remember that the seasons always change; that the moment when it seems all is lost is the moment that precedes new beginnings; that God is at work even in that crucible where everything feels hopeless.
"Summer Rebound" originally appeared in Don Underwood's Weekly Column. Reprinted with permission.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Don Underwood
Donald W. (Don) Underwood is a writer, rancher, husband, father, grandfather, and pastor. His weekly column, which read more… 
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Exegeting the biblical text by Paul Scott Wilson
Preachers who rush to, “What will preach?”, are like fire marshals rushing to a fire with the wrong address. We must work with the text, doing exegesis before settling on a direction. Use at least one scholarly commentary devoted just to your book of the Bible, like Richard B. Hayes’ First Corinthians.[1] A one-volume commentary on the entire Bible, like, The New Interpreter's Bible One-Volume Commentary,[2] is helpful mostly by providing condensed overviews of each book. Commentaries geared to the lectionary and preaching are also useful, like The Abingdon Theological Companion to the Lectionary.[3] A Bible atlas or online resource has maps, essays, and pictures of biblical places, life, and architecture. An interlinear Bible can help with translation, like the online resource www.scripture4all.org. Websites like www.biblegateway.com and www.blueletterbible.org offer different English translations.The process of working with the text is exegesis (Greek: to lead out), drawing the meaning out from a text, as opposed to eisegesis, reading into it what is not there. The boundary between these is blurred nowadays; the context and experiences of readers affect meanings. The distinction nonetheless still has value. Interpretation should be guided by the rule of faith (Latin: regula fidei) or analogy of faith (analogia fidei), what the church has commonly understood and is often represented not least by creeds. When in doubt about the meaning of a passage, it should be understood to be consistent with other Bible texts. Scripture interprets Scripture. Exegesis asks literary, theological, and historical questions and seeks informed responses. Preachers may initially wonder if they have anything to say about a text, but after playing and working with it, there is too much to say, creative energies and imaginations are fired up.
Following is a list of [ten] exegetical questions. My own answers are given for 1 Corinthians 1:10-18, but you, reader, should write out the answers for your own text.
First, read over all the questions and note questions you might not normally ask. Depending on the biblical text, an occasional question might not need to be answered. The exercise initially may take a couple of hours, but when it becomes familiar, it can require much less time. Overall, it saves time.
* * *
Exegetical Questions: 1 Corinthians 1:10-1810 Now I encourage you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ: Agree with each other and don’t be divided into rival groups. Instead, be restored with the same mind and the same purpose.11 My brothers and sisters, Chloe’s people gave me some information about you, that you’re fighting with each other. 12 What I mean is this: that each one of you says, “I belong to Paul,” “I belong to Apollos,” “I belong to Cephas,” “I belong to Christ.” 13 Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you, or were you baptized in Paul’s name? 14 Thank God that I didn’t baptize any of you, except Crispus and Gaius, 15 so that nobody can say that you were baptized in my name! 16 Oh, I baptized the house of Stephanas too. Otherwise, I don’t know if I baptized anyone else. 17 Christ didn’t send me to baptize but to preach the good news. And Christ didn’t send me to preach the good news with clever words so that Christ’s cross won’t be emptied of its meaning. 18 The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are being destroyed. But it is the power of God for those of us who are being saved. (Common English Bible)
1) Read and reread the text on your own. Close your eyes and picture its events or the events surrounding the author or receivers, relying upon clues that the text offers. You might think about each detail in what is known as ‘praying the text.’ What in the text have you not have noticed before?
I am newly impressed by the urgency of Paul's plea to the church in 1:10. Why would Christ have been considered by some as equivalent to Apollos, Cephas and Paul? Paul founded the church in Corinth, but his role seems ill-defined: he preached and baptized a few. Paul's memory is initially faulty about whom he baptized, and he remains uncertain.
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2) Determine the boundaries of your text by reading what comes before and after it. Does it have unity and coherence on its own or do you need to consider a larger section? Identify its form or genre.The argument that begins at 1:10 continues at least to 2:5. This entire section concentrates on divisions in the Corinthian church.
3) What function is this text designed to serve?
Paul seeks unity among the arguing factions of the church. He uses his authority as an apostle and a founder of the church in Corinth to call them to account.
4) Make an initial statement: What is God doing in or behind this text?
God unites the church (or: overcomes divisions) through Paul preaching the cross.
5) Identify key words and phrases that provide clues to the theme of the passage and check in a concordance or lexicon for meanings of important words. Make a provisional translation of the text if you have the original language and read various translations. Check the critical apparatus and notes to see if there are textual problems or variant readings.
Key words and phrases: "proclaim the gospel", "the cross of Christ", "power" of the cross, "the cross is foolishness", "being saved", "power of God". I note no significant variants.
6) Who are the main characters? Does someone serve as a representative of God if God is not mentioned (e.g. in Esther, Esther or Mordecai; a prophet, a disciple, etc.)—or even if God is?
The main characters are Paul, whom we take as speaking for God, Chloe and her people, and the various parties in the church in Corinth. Apollos and Cephas are mentioned, along with Christ, who as an actor is in the background here.
7) What happens? What is the plot or movement of thought?
Paul appeals for unity, reports what he has heard, and rebukes any attempt of people in the church to follow anyone but Christ, including himself.
8) What happens before and after this text (i.e. what is the literary and historical context)?
Paul established the church five years earlier. He is now in Ephesus with Sosthenes. Some people in Chole's household have come to him. He writes because of what he has learned from them, and Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus, who carry this current letter back to Corinth (1 Cor 16:17). Because of this letter, some bad practices in Corinth are presumably resolved, like at the meal, for they are not mentioned again in 2 Corinthians. Other issues will remain, including his own role in the community. These were not resolved by a second visit (see: 2 Cor 2:1-11).
9) What is the conflict in the text?
There is conflict between: three parties in Corinth, those who follow Apollos, Cephas, Paul, and Christ; Paul and those he is rebuking; and perhaps between Chloe, as the whistleblower, and some others in Corinth.
10) What resolution of the conflict does the text offer?
The resolution is for the people to follow only Christ, trusting in the power of the cross.
[1] Richard B. Hayes, First Corinthians, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1997).
[2] Beverly R. Gaventa and David L. Petersen, eds., The New Interpreter's Bible One-Volume Commentary (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2010).
[3] Paul Scott Wilson, ed., The Abingdon Theological Companion to the Lectionary: Preaching Year A, B, and C (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2013, 2014, 2012).
Excerpted from The Four Pages of the Sermon, Revised and Updated by Paul Scott Wilson. Copyright © 2018 Abingdon Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paul Scott Wilson
Paul Scott Wilson is Professor of Homiletics at Emmanuel College of the University of Toronto. He is one of the most read more… 
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