Socially and pragmatically, passing the peace is a hospitable liturgy for introverts and for those who are struggling on a Sunday morning. The Christ-focused script--"The peace of Christ be with you."--helps the introverts and it doesn't force us to pretend.

But the deeper reason for why passing the peace is a better liturgy than the "let's stand and greet those around you" liturgy is that passing the peace focuses us on the true foundation of Christian community.

The problem with the "greeting time" liturgy is that it asks us, in sixty awkward seconds, to find some common ground between yourself and a stranger. You ask those standard get-to-know you questions, looking for some point of connection.

The theological issue here, beyond this time being hell on introverts, is that this "greeting time" liturgy is forcing us to look for the source of community within ourselves. We look for commonalities and similarities, and when we find these we find connection and community.

In short, the "greeting time" liturgy is malforming us as it is asking us to find community in similarity and sameness.

Passing the peace, by contrast, points us away from ourselves toward the true ground of Christian community: the peace of Christ. We don't bond over the fact that we both watched the Dallas Cowboy game. We bond because we are recipients of the peace of Christ.

The "greeting time" liturgy is awful because it brings up college football.

Passing the peace, by contrast, points us to Jesus.

On Friday in my post about the Bible study I lead out at the prison I mentioned that, outside the Eucharist, my favorite part of the liturgy is the passing of the peace.

I also mentioned that my church doesn't pass the peace and that I wish we did.

So I'd like to follow up with a few posts this week to make the argument that every church should pass the peace. Because a lot of churches, particularly low-church Protestants like my church, don't pass the peace. And they should.

I'm going to get to some important theological and political reasons for why we should pass the peace each Sunday, but let me start today with a simple, pragmatic reason.

Think about the introverts!

Instead of passing the peace, a lot of churches, like mine, do have a moment in the service where we're asked to stand and greet the people around us. This "greeting time" is often assumed to be the equivalent of passing the peace. But as I'll argue in the next two posts, this "greeting time" is a very poor substitute for passing the peace. In fact, as I'll argue, rather than forming us into a Christ-centered community this "greeting time" is actually malforming us.

But before we get those heavier arguments, for today I just want to point out how inhospitable the "greeting time" is for introverts. Seriously, I know many introverts in my church who intentionally come to church late so that they can miss the greeting time. That's how difficult and hard the greeting time is for many introverts. To say nothing about the people who are emotionally or spiritually struggling on any given Sunday. The greeting time privileges extraversion and positivity.

Passing the peace, by giving us a script, words to share with each other, is so much more hospitable to introverts. This is a fact. I know introverts who come to church late to skip the greeting time who absolutely love passing the peace.

Passing the peace is also more hospitable to those who are struggling on Sunday morning. When you are passing the peace you don't have to smile and pretend life is awesome. Which, let's admit it, the greeting time forces you do do. You are not, in the sixty seconds you're given for greeting time, going to spill your troubles to the strangers sitting next to you. So you are forced by the greeting time liturgy to smile, nod and show a happy face. The greeting time is a liturgical nightmare because it is a liturgy of pretending.

Passing the peace avoids this falseness because it focuses us on Christ.

The Men in White in our bible study don't have a lot of liturgical knowledge or experience. For the most part they are, as they say, "unchurched."

So one of the things that I've enjoyed over the years is introducing the men to liturgy and the liturgical calendar. I've explained to them the difference between Advent and Christmas. One year during Lent I heavily smudged ashes onto a piece of paper to get ashes in the prison so that they could experience the imposition of ashes. My smudge was heavy and thick enough that I could rub my thumb over it to leave a faint black cross on the foreheads of the men.

This week I was talking about the passing of the peace in liturgical churches. Outside of the Eucharist the passing of the peace is my favorite part of liturgical services. I wish my church passed the peace. It's a powerful symbol of reconciled humanity as New Creation.

Most of the men in the study had never passed the peace. So I explained the point of the liturgy and the words we say to each other. "Peace be with you." or "Peace of Christ." or simply "Peace."

After this little lesson, 50 plus men got up and passed the peace.

The Hispanic men passed the peace to me with "La Paz de Christo" ("the Peace of Christ") and "La Paz de Cristo sea con vosotros."

May the Peace of Christ be with you.

And also with you, my brothers. And also with you.

One of the concerns when Christians talk about the Devil and spiritual warfare is a worry about ontological dualism.

Specifically, images of "warfare," with light being opposed to darkness, makes us think that Good and Evil are an ontological pair, eternally pitted against each other. To be sure, there are some religious cosmologies that embrace that dualism, but Christianity isn't one of them.

And yet, Christians see themselves as battling dark forces, collectively described as "the satan," the Adversary.

So how do we avoid drifting into dualism in light of that struggle?

In Reviving Old Scratch I borrow from the work of scholars like Louis Martyn, his commentary on Galatians in particular, to argue that the reason we experience spiritual warfare isn't because of dualism but because God's invasion of the world. Scholars call this framework apocalyptic. The world is held in captivity by dark cosmic forces--the Devil, Sin and Death--and God invades the cosmos to liberate humanity. Yes, this is Christus Victor atonement.

The key, though, for the concern about dualism, is that we experience warfare not because of ontology but because of God's apocalyptic invasion of "the present evil age."

I mentioned that two weeks ago I was teaching a class on hospitality for a wonderful group of people in Spring Arbor University’s MA in Spiritual Formation and Leadership program. The residency class was at the lovely Michindoh Conference Center.

Michindoh has a prayer labyrinth on the grounds, and since we all were there as a part of a spiritual formation program a lot of people in the cohorts taking the class couldn't wait to get out to the labyrinth. Apparently, there are prayer labyrinth junkies out there.

Sad to say this, but even though there is a prayer labyrinth on my own campus, I've never walked a prayer labyrinth. Oh, I've looked at and walked around plenty of prayer labyrinths, but I've never prayerfully walked my way through a labyrinth the way you're supposed to do.

So on my last day at Michindoh, during a time of silent retreat, I headed out to the prayer labyrinth. It was a damp, cold winter day. But I love weather, so damp, cold winter days are atmospheric to me. There is nothing I love more than being appropriately dressed on a cold winter day. I love the contrast of feeling snug and warm with the feeling of cold air on your face. Have you ever delighted in that feeling? Being outside on a cold day but being perfectly comfortable because you've nailed the clothing? Not too hot, not too cold. Perfected matched to the climate. Externally, the day seems forbidding and chilly, but you're walking around warm and contented. I love that feeling. That's the feeling I had walking out to the prayer labyrinth at Michindoh.

I reached the labyrinth and took a centering breath before starting.

I slowly walked the labyrinth saying the Jesus prayer all the way into the center. At the center I lingered, resting into silence. I exited the labyrinth bringing to mind the names and faces of all the people in my life I want to be available and present to. My family, co-workers, people I've been neglecting.

I loved the experience. I walked slowly back to the conference center, pausing for long minutes to watch a black and white spotted Downy Woodpecker. The two of us sat together, alone by the grey lake.

Finally, with a stilled, quiet heart I said good-bye and walked back into the world.

In yesterday's post I talked about how we need liturgies of affection, habits and practices that help us to love others in the expansive way Jesus loved.

A few months back I filmed a conversation with Randy Harris and the Siburt Institute here at ACU talking about what those sorts of liturgies look like and involve:

Last post reflecting on the work of James Smith as we processed his books Desiring the Kingdom and You Are What You Love at last fall's Rochester College Streaming conference.

Again, if there was big point I struggled with at Streaming it was the issue I raised in Part 1, that liturgy isn't a magic bullet when it comes to spiritual formation.

So what's missing?

I think what's missing is summed up in what we mean by "kingdom" when we say that liturgy forms us to "desire the kingdom." What is this "kingdom" that we are trying to love?

Most of the time when I hear Smith describe his work kingdom is referring to the transcendent. Rarely does Smith describe liturgies, habits and practices that help us love hard to love human beings.

Basically, I agree with everything Smith describes in his books except his definition of the kingdom. Smith's implicit definition of the kingdom is too spiritual and too transcendent and not tied closely to where most failures of Christlikeness occur, the realm of social psychology and interpersonal relationships.

I love things like liturgy, the liturgical calendar, structured prayer, silence, Sabbath, Lectio Divina and on and on. I'm a huge liturgical nerd. I geek out on this stuff. But none of it is directly forming in me the interpersonal affectional capacities required to help me love hard to love people. It's this interpersonal aspect that is missing in most conversations about liturgical practice and spiritual disciplines.

I agree that we need habits and practices to shape and direct our loves. But what I want to see more of are habits and practices that form and direct our loves toward human beings.

Love, especially for the the hard to love. That's my definition of the kingdom.

So where are we describing the liturgies that help us with that?

On Monday we weren't sure if we'd be having the study since it was MLK Day. But we got late word that the chaplain's office had issued the lay-ins for our class.

(A lay-in is an approval slip, sort of like a High School hall pass, allowing the inmates to leave their cell block to attend a program offering. So if the lay-ins aren't sent out, and sometimes they aren't on holidays, the men aren't allowed to leave their cell blocks to attend our study. This is one of the glitchy things about working at a prison. You can show up at the facility ready to go, but if someone forgets to process the lay-in paperwork you won't have a class showing up.)

I was so happy we had class. I'd been missing the guys. Due the Christmas holidays (lay-ins were not given for the two Mondays around Christmas and New Year's) and being out of town last week it had been a few weeks since I'd been at the study.

These reunions are awesome. After the guys get patted down by the guards (to make sure they aren't bringing contraband into the study) they are released to enter the chapel where the study is held. Herb and I wait for the men to enter, creating a sort of receiving line. We hug and greet everyone as they enter. There's over 50 guys, so this takes awhile.

But this receiving line, the 50 hugs given out, is my favorite part of the study. And it's the favorite time of the men as well. To be embraced, to stand and share in some small talk, to chat as friends. It's an incredibly humanizing experience for the Men in White. For many of the men, we're the only people from the "free world" that they ever get to see or talk with. The greeting line really is Holy Ground.

And these greetings, as you might expect, are even more enthusiastic when we haven't seen each other in a few weeks.

So Monday night this week was really special.

At the Streaming conference, as we talked about the work of James K. Smith, from time to time in our discussions criticisms were made of contemporary praise music.

A frequently leveled criticism concerned the overly romantic themes in contemporary Christian praise music. These sorts of songs are frequently dismissed as "Jesus is my boyfriend" songs.

I found that dismissal odd in light of our discussions about Smith's work about how liturgies should shape our loves and desires. Smith was arguing that our liturgies should engage our emotions, that worship should be more romantic than intellectual, but in the same breath we were dismissing "Jesus is my boyfriend" songs.

What's additionally strange here is that many of the people who are dismissive of the "boyfriend" songs are people immersed in the contemplative tradition. And yet, the contemplative tradition is the tradition most familiar with the erotic aspects of Christian worship and spirituality. If anyone felt that "Jesus is my boyfriend" it was the Christian mystics.

Finally, the patriarchy might also be at work in this criticism of "boyfriend" themes. Which is again strange given that many of the people who dismiss the "Jesus is my boyfriend" songs are liberals and progressives.

James Smith makes all these points in a fascinating footnote (p. 79) in Desiring the Kingdom:

I think a philosophical anthropology centered around affectivity, love, or desire might also be an occasion to somewhat reevaluate our criticisms of "mushy" worship choruses that seem to confuse God with our boyfriend. While we might be rightly critical of the self-centered grammar of such choruses, I don't think we should so quickly write off their "romantic" or even "erotic" elements (the Song of Songs comes to mind in this context)...The quasi-rationalism that sneers at such erotic elements in worship is concerned to keep worship "safe" from such threats is the same rationalism that has consistently marginalized the religious experience of women--and women mystics in particular.

A big part of the discussion about liturgies at Streaming last fall responding to the work of James K. Smith was that liturgies engage our bodies and emotions.

We aren't, to use Smith's phrase, just "brains on sticks." The brain is connected to and affected by the body. Consequently, if we want to reform and reshape our loves and desires our liturgies must target our bodies and our guts.

But as I mentioned in the last post, Smith tends to describe Christian liturgy as it appears in the Protestant mainline traditions. And again, that's great. I love The Book of Common Prayer.

But here's the question I asked Smith after one of his sessions: What about charismatic and Pentecostal worship?

At the end of the day, given how Smith defines liturgy as habitual practices directing our love toward the kingdom, every church is a liturgical church. In their habitual worship practices a charismatic church is just as liturgical as an Episcopalian church. True, these liturgies look very, very different, but both churches have habitual worship practices that direct our desires toward the kingdom of God.

Which brings me back to the question I asked. If we are looking for liturgies that engage our bodies and our emotions it seems to me that charismatic worship might be just as or even more potent than a high-church liturgy. And interestingly, where mainline churches are struggling in the West charismatic churches are thriving worldwide.

Maybe, per my last post, liturgy can be potent in spiritual formation but we need to expand what we mean by liturgy.

For example, when we call for more embodied, emotional and Incarnational worship maybe we should think more about raising our hands, along with The Book of Common Prayer.

But here's a strange thing. A lot of the people touting the need for more embodied worship are the very last people who would raise their hands in worship. A lot of people who call for worship to be more Incarnational are the very last people who would dance in the aisles.

There's a disjoint. Theologically, we say we need embodied and Incarnational worship, but when it comes to actual worship we're dismissive of charismatic displays and enthusiasms.

To be clear, I'm not a very demonstrative worshiper. I'm not a big hand raiser.

But after I tout the need for Incarnational worship I'm acutely aware of my hypocrisy when I don't raise my hands.

Last fall I was honored to be a part of the Rochester College Streaming conference where James K. Smith was the main presenter. James presented his work on desire, love, liturgies and spiritual formation from his books Desiring the Kingdom and You Are What You Love.

I wanted to post a few different thoughts about desires and liturgies reflecting upon Smith's work.

For this post, a quick recap if you aren't familiar with Smith's ideas and then a simple observation.

The first move Smith makes is anthropological. Humans are desiring, emotional animals. It's less about "I think, therefore I am" than "You are what you love."

Second move: Our desires are aimed at some vision of human flourishing, some vision of the Good Life. In theological language, some vision of the kingdom of God.

Third move: Habits and practices shape our affections. Since these habitual practices are shaping our loves and desires for a kingdom we can call them liturgies. So defined, liturgies are everywhere shaping our affections. Smith calls these "secular liturgies," mainly consumeristic and nationalistic liturgies, that shape and direct our affections toward some vision of the Good Life. 

Fourth move: Christian worship is a counter-liturgy, habits and practices that compete for and reshape our affections away from the rival liturgies of the culture. If the secular liturgies of nation and marketplace--the habits and practices of life that make us desire and love the American Dream--deform us then Christian liturgy reforms us.

Overall, I agree with every one of these moves. I really like Smith's work.

But my first response, one that many people at Streaming shared, was that liturgy doesn't seem able to bear the weight Smith puts on it.

For example, as I pointed out at Streaming, among Protestants the mainline traditions have the best liturgy, and we can also throw in Catholicism and the Orthodox, but overall I don't think these liturgical traditions are producing more saintly Christians at higher rates than other traditions.

Liturgy isn't a saint factory.

Relatedly, as another attendee pointed out, if liturgy is so powerful then why are many mainline churches losing members at faster rates than some other denominations?

To be clear, I love the liturgy in mainline churches. Jana and I went to an Episcopal cathedral for their Christmas eve service this year. I adored the service, but the attendance was sparse. Clearly, liturgy alone isn't a magic bullet.

This week I’ve been out of town teaching a class on hospitality for an amazing collection of students in Spring Arbor University’s MA in Spiritual Formation and Leadership program. So I wasn’t able to be out at the prison on Monday night. Herb covered for me.

This is a huge part of what makes our class work on Monday nights, that Herb and I are a team. If I was the only one teaching the class I would have had to cancel this Monday. And if Herb were alone he would regularly have to cancel class.

Trust is hard-won out at the prison. People, many well-intentioned people, come and go. So the dependability and reliability of the Monday night Bible study, week after week and year after year, the fact that we never have to cancel, is a large part of why the men in the study have come to trust, love and respect us. We always show up.

But it takes a team to make that happen. Herb covered for me on Monday and I’ll eventually have to cover for Herb. And not only does our partnership make the Bible study reliable for the men, it also makes it sustainable for Herb and I over the long haul.

Christians are indistinguishable from other men either by nationality, language or customs. They do not inhabit separate cities of their own, or speak a strange dialect, or follow some outlandish way of life. Their teaching is not based upon reveries inspired by the curiosity of men. Unlike some other people, they champion no purely human doctrine. With regard to dress, food and manner of life in general, they follow the customs of whatever city they happen to be living in, whether it is Greek or foreign.

And yet there is something extraordinary about their lives. They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens. Any country can be their homeland, but for them their homeland, wherever it may be, is a foreign country...They pass their days upon earth, but they are citizens of heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet live on a level that transcends the law.

--from The Letter to Diognetus

Our Sunday bible study last spring was studying through the gospel of John.

And one of the things that struck me in the gospel of John were the very first words of Jesus.

From John 1:

John 1.35-38
The next day John the Baptist again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”

The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus.

When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them,

“What are you looking for?”

Some translations have the question as, "What do you want?"

What do you want? What are you looking for?

I don't know about you, but those are some really deep questions. Deep, deep down, what am I looking for? Deep, deep down what do I want?

I bet if we all sat down together and shared our answers we'd find that our answers were very similar.

Deep, deep down, we all want the same things.

And the gospel of John, I think, gives an answer to those longings.

I've been thinking a lot about the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares.

From the Gospel of Matthew:

Matthew 13.24-30
He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field, but while his men were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away.

So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared also. And the servants of the master of the house came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?’

He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’ So the servants said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he said, ‘No, lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”

As Jesus goes on to say, the wheat represent the children of the kingdom. The weeds represent the children of the evil one. The field is the world. And both the wheat and the weeds are left to "grow together." Any separating of the two is left to the eschatological judgment. Any separating of the wheat and weeds prior to the judgment will damage both wheat and weeds.

Interpretations about this parable abound. But there is something that struck me recently.

Jesus doesn't describe the kingdom as a bounded location, like a city with a wall around it, a division between Us and Them. The kingdom is, rather, located everywhere, mixed in and found, here and there, among the weeds. The kingdom is distributed, it can be found anywhere and everywhere.

And it seems, if I'm following Jesus, that any attempt to separate the kingdom from the world, to concentrate and localize the kingdom, only does damage to the kingdom. 

We tend to think of the kingdom as a place, a pure space we create in contrast to the world. But in this parable that pure space can't be and shouldn't be created.

All is messy and mixed up and impossible to separate.

Where is the kingdom?

Nowhere it seems.

Yet everywhere.

This week I had a conversation about the hymn "I'll Fly Away." My conversation partner, a progressive/liberal Christian, was expressing disdain for the song.

Given their concerns about social justice in this world, "I'll Fly Away" is routinely criticized by progressive Christians as being other-worldly and escapist. And it's easy to see why when you look at the first verse and the chorus:

Some glad morning when this life is o'er,
I'll fly away.

To a home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away.

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away;
when I die, hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away.

I understand the criticism progressive Christians level against these lyrics. As I've written about before on this blog, where in "I'll Fly Away" is the whole "may your will be done on earth as it is in heaven"? Where is the vision of the New Jerusalem coming down from heaven to earth in Revelation 21-22?

It does seem like "I'll Fly Away" is pointing us away from this world in anticipation of the next. The song suggests that the goal and aim of the Christian life is to "fly away" from this world to the next.

But as I've written about before, here's the interesting thing...

Each week out at the prison I sing hymns with the inmates. And "I'll Fly Away" is one of their favorite songs. And it's not all that hard to see why. From the second verse:

Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I'll fly away.

I think it's obvious why the inmates like this song.

Sung on the inside of a prison--sung by the damned--"I'll Fly Away" is a song longing for release. Sung by the damned "I'll Fly Away" is an anthem of liberation.

Songs, like theology, depend on social location. Some theology in some locations is obscene. Like the prosperity gospel in rich American suburbs. But the prosperity gospel in the third world? Maybe not so bad. Penal substitutionary atonement for children? Not a good idea. But for murderers? Maybe not so bad.

Same for song lyrics. From the outside, on the outside of a prison, yes, "I'll Fly Away" seems escapist. But on the inside of a prison "I'll Fly Away" is an expression of liberation theology.

When you're singing with the damned "I'll Fly Away" becomes a song of resistance.

Over the last couple years I've done briefer, thematic posts on Fridays. I've blogged through the Rule of St. Benedict. We've revisited posts from interesting search terms that brought people to the blog. And last year I shared personal, Facebook-like posts.

So what to do on Fridays in 2017?

I get a lot of emails and requests to write more about Monday nights out at the prison. As regular readers know, every Monday night I teach a bible class for about 50 inmates at the French-Robertson maximum-security unit. I've shared a lot of stories from the prison bible study here on the blog. And "the Men in White" (inmates in Texas where all white shirts and pants) feature prominently in Reviving Old Scratch. In fact, I dedicated the book to the Men in White, along with my brothers and sisters at Freedom Fellowship.

French-Robertson Unit

Because of these stories, people want to hear more about the prison bible study. But truth be told, it's not like anything particularly profound happens every week during the study. I can't fill Fridays with amazing stories from the prison.

But honestly, I really don't think that's the best way to view the work out at the prison, or any ministry.

I've come to see the prison bible study as a practice of simple fidelity. The magic is found in simply showing up. Week after week, year after year.

It's hard and often tedious. You're frequently tired and have other things to do. It takes discipline, commitment and sacrifice. It's a marathon, not a spirit. You just keep showing up. Every Monday you show up and light a candle in the darkness. 

On the surface, the fidelity of simply showing up looks small and boring. But I've come to see it as powerful and as revolutionary as a mustard seed, to use Jesus' way of describing the kingdom of God.

So while showing up each week to teach the bible class won't fill Fridays with powerful, earth-shattering stories, it does make great material for a diary entry, a note or observation about what happened that week.

So that's what we are going to do on Fridays in 2017.

On Fridays I'll be sharing short, diary-like entries about what happens each week on Monday nights out at the prison.

I hope you'll join me.

And blessings be upon you, friends. Wherever you are and wherever you go, keep showing up and lighting your candles.

[T]he eucharist, like the meals held by Jesus with 'sinners and publicans', must also be celebrated with the unrighteous, those who have no rights and the godless from the 'highways and hedges' of society, in all their profanity, and should no longer be limited, as in religious sacrifice, to the inner circle of the devout, to those who are members of the same denomination. The Christian church can re-introduce the divisions between the religious and the profane and between those who are within and those who are without, only at the price of losing its own identity as the church of the crucified Christ.

--Jürgen Moltmann, from The Crucified God

Galadriel: Mithrandir, why the Halfling?

Gandalf: Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love.

--Quote from the movie The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

The Philosopher came back to the prison Bible study Monday night. I hadn't seen him in months.

I wrote about the Philosopher three years ago. He's an interesting character and we've had a some long, difficult conversations. Here's a lightly edited version of a story I've shared before:

The prison bible study was about to start but I was hanging back, waiting on the Philosopher.

The Philosopher is new to the study. He's really smart in many ways. Hence the nickname he's been given by his fellow inmates. They call him the Philosopher.

But the Philosopher is also socially challenged. To my eye he as a lot of Asperger-like symptoms. These social skills issues make the Philosopher difficult to deal with in the class. The Philosopher has a tendency to go on long theological, doctrinal or biblical disquisitions that hold the floor for too long. But the Philosopher has trouble reading the non-verbals of the class as well as mine. He doesn't know when to stop so I have to awkwardly interject to get the class moving forward again.

But that's not why I'm hanging back this evening. I don't mind the Philosopher being long-winded. I'm an expert in being long-winded. So I get it.

I'm hanging back because last week the Philosopher accosted my co-teacher Herb. He accused Herb of "blasphemy" and asserted that Herb had "blood on his hands."

To be clear, there are lots of disagreements in the bible study. But this was extreme. It's going to be hard to have a good class discussion going forward if accusations of blasphemy are being leveled. So I need to check in with the Philosopher.

Here's the hilarious thing. You might be wondering what Herb was teaching that provoked the charge of blood-soaked blasphemy. It was this: Max Lucado.

That's right. Max Lucado. That damned heretic.

Herb was leading a discussion about Max Lucado's recent video series on grace. And why, you might ask, did the Philosopher find grace to be blasphemous?

Well, the Philosopher is a bit of a legalist. Consequently, the doctrine of grace is a bit scandalous. It's blasphemy. Thus Herb is leading souls to perdition for preaching (via DVD) the doctrine. Hence the "blood soaked hands" accusation.

The Philosopher was the last one to get to the study. He handed in his lay in (the slip of paper given by the chaplain's office granting permission to go the study) to the guards who began to pat him down.

But there's something stuffed in the Philosopher's sock. That's a problem which gets the attention of the guards. Their mood turns grim. You're not supposed to have things stuffed in your socks.

Is it contraband? A weapon?

Turns out it's a bible. One of those tiny, pocket-sized King James Version bibles.

The Philosopher was now asked to stand with this hands against the wall for a more thorough pat down.

The Philosopher has, it is discovered, about five small bibles stuffed all over his person.

One of the guards remarks, "I patted this guy down last week and he had like eight bibles on him."

The pat down concludes. I reflect. I'm about to try to have a biblical conversation about grace and legalism with a guy who carries bibles stuffed in his socks and whose nickname is "the Philosopher."

But in truth, I really don't want to debate the bible with the Philosopher. All I really want to say is that we don't mind disagreements in the study. Disagree all you want. But we do need to tone down the rhetoric. If you disagree with someone, fine, but you can't call them blasphemers and say that they have blood on their hands.

But here's the problem that surfaces as we talk. The Philosopher feels compelled to say these things because, in his words, "my Father told me to say that." "My Father," of course, is God. The Philosopher is communicating directly with God, sharing God's words with us.

Probing into this, as we talk, the Philosopher reveals to me that he's sort of like the apostle Paul, getting visions directly from God.

I realize as the discussion goes on that this is getting beyond a biblical discussion and that I'm bumping into something more psychiatric. How do you have a disagreement with someone speaking directly for God?

I work to keep the discussion biblical and point out that the apostle Paul, despite the revelations he received from God, once worried that he might have been misinterpreting those visions, that he might have been "running in vain." Consequently, Paul sought out other mature followers of Jesus--Peter, John and James--to check out his gospel with them. I have the Philosopher turn (in one of his five bibles) to Galatians 1 to read about Paul's worry and his actions.

This story is new to the Philosopher. Or, at the very least, this story never registered in this particular way. Paul--the apostolic model for the Philosopher--needed other Christians to check and sign-off on his gospel. Truth required communal discernment.

We can't, I cautioned the Philosopher, be a lone wolf. Not even Paul.

That, at least, was the point I tried to bring home. I wasn't totally successful. But I gave the Philosopher pause. He became more thoughtful. Reflective. You could see the wheels turning.

The great apostle Paul once worried that he might have been wrong.

It's a sobering thought.

But a perfect thought, in my estimation, to start off a bible study.

Especially for Christians who like to carry lots of bibles.

Happy New Year!

I'm putting this up today, on January 1, as Monday's regular post. 

As has been my tradition, every New Year I look back over the blog to gather up posts that summarize my year of writing and reflection on the blog.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and sharing posts on social media. And thank you to all of you who I've met in person or sent me emails this year sharing how much this blog has meant to you. The feeling is mutual, I've been so encouraged by the relationships we've formed online.

It's true that social media can be a pretty toxic place, but I hope what you find here Monday-Friday each day, even if you disagree with me, is thought-provoking and encouraging. I'm looking forward to 2017.

So here it is, the 2016 Experimental Theology Year in Review:

1. Reviving Old Scratch: Demons and the Devil for Doubters and the Disenchanted
I tried not to overwhelm the blog too much with the roll out of my new book, but in 2016 my book Reviving Old Scratch came out with a book launch on a Malibu rooftop doing a podcast with N.T. Wright and Greg Boyd. Thanks so much to Tripp Fuller and Luke Norsworthy for hosting Devilpalooza.

It's been encouraging to see the book so well received, by N.T. Wright himself and from progressive Christian audiences, the group I had especially in mind when writing the book. I've also been in contact with a lot of churches who are doing bible classes or reading groups using Reviving Old Scratch.

Thank you to everyone who read the book, shared it on social media or reviewed it on Amazon, Good Reads or on your blog or Facebook. And a special shout-out to Bob Cornwall for posting the very first review of the book and to Jonathan Storment who did a series about the book over at Scot McKnight's Jesus Creed blog.

To accompany the book, I spent the year writing some more about the devil. Some of those posts were: We Need a Satanic Hermeneutic, Blaming the Devil: Empathy and Responsibility, Dreamy and Devilish Thoughts: Description vs. Explanation in Theology, The Pope and the Devil, and Does the Devil Exist?: Resistance Over Existence,

2. Paul and the Gift: Grace as a Social Revolution
2016 started with me reviewing John Barclay's book Paul and the Gift, an academic tome of Pauline scholarship that had gotten a lot of buzz.

In Part 1 and Part 2 of that series I review Barclay's six "perfections" of grace, and in Part 3 I argue for a seventh perfection of grace (a post of interest to those to believe in universal reconciliation). Those posts brought us to the heart of Barclay's argument, that Paul focused on the incongruity of grace: God gives gifts to the unworthy and undeserving.

That might sound like a very traditional place to land, but in Barclay's hands there are two huge implications. First, Barclay argues that Paul did not perfect the non-circularity of grace, the teaching that grace carries no obligations and cannot and should not be repaid. For Paul, grace is incongruous but it very much creates a bond of obligation. Grace must be repaid.

Second, Paul's teaching of incongruous grace enabled a social revolution, allowing Paul to experiment with boundary-crossing communities. Grace, according to Barclay, was a sociological event that broke down the social barriers existing between the worthy, significant and esteemed (Jews, males, free people) and the unworthy, despised and shamed (Gentiles, females, slaves). Grace destroys all human criteria of worth allowing for a "new humanity" to emerge.    

Finally, as bonus, since I connected Barclay's work to universal reconciliation in my series, I threw in a post about The Perfections of Grace in Calvinism, Arminianism and Universalism.

3. The Four Arguments for Affirming Same-Sex Marriages
The most viral post of the year was a post in which I shared "the four arguments" for affirming same-sex marriages.

I had been asked by an evangelical institution to survey, summarize and then share with them the biblical and theological case for affirming same-sex marriages. As I did my literature review for them, I discerned that there are four main arguments that get used alone or in combination over and over again. Thus, the "four arguments" for affirming same-sex marriages.

After my presentation, I've considered adding a fifth argument that has recently gained more attention. The fifth argument would be "The Inclusion of the Sexual Other" based upon the inclusion of eunuchs in the kingdom of God.

4. Edging Toward Enchantment
A lot of modern Christians struggle with doubt and skepticism concerning the transcendent and metaphysical aspects of faith. So in 2016 I devoted a series of posts about how these doubting believers might edge themselves back toward enchantment. This might have been the most important series of the year.

The series began with a post about miracle stories, in the Bible and in Christian communities. How can disenchanted, doubting and skeptical believers embrace these stories? I argued we can do this by finding resources to edge ourselves back toward enchantment and by making the turn from deconstruction to reconstruction.

How to do this? I suggested a few different things.

First, you can fill your world with sacramentals that help you recover the Catholic imagination of a sacramental ontology where the world as charged with the grandeur of God.

Second, you can practice being open to surprise. This eccentric, receptive posture combats the ruminating introversion of the modern self, an introversion that can impair our ability to experience the sacred and transcendent.

Third, you can practice existential jujitsu, by doubting your doubts and by embracing a romantic Christianity that is disgusted with disenchantment. We can even use the brokenness and suffering of the world to doubt disenchantment.

Finally, we practice hallowing life, by practicing resurrection and through rituals like prayer and anointing.

Later in the year I revisited the subject of enchantment with some posts to help doubting Christians rethink miracles. I suggested that miracles can be viewed as a hermeneutical activity that hallows events and fosters a relational experience with God. But my main point was that miracles are a hermeneutics of gratitude.

5. Jesus and the Jolly Roger: A Church for Pirates
The series I had the most fun with this year was "Jesus and the Jolly Roger," using pirates as a parable to talk about the kingdom of God.

The origin of this series was planted by my friend Simon Nash when he handed me Kester Brewin's book Mutiny! Why We Love Pirates, And How They Can Save Us. I did class using this material at the Pepperdine Bible Lectures and then shared it here on the blog.

The posts in the series were, in order, The Kingdom of God is Like a Pirate, The Violent Take It By Force, The Curious Case of Captain Jack Sparrow, Raising Merry Hell, Living Under the Sign of Death, and The Pirate Code of the Kingdom of God.

6. Praise, Lament and Shape-Note Singing
In 2016 Leah Libresco called me about an article she was writing for Nate Silver's 538 blog over at ESPN. Leah had come across shape-note singing of old Christian hymns at local sings and noticed a difference in the lyrical content of those hymns and the content of contemporary Christian pop songs.

Leah published her analysis, and some of my reflections about her findings, in her article "The Sun Is Always Shining In Modern Christian Pop."

I followed up Leah's article with two posts. First, I grew up in a shape-note tradition. Second, Leah's analysis comparing shape-note hymns with Christian pop is similar to the lyrical contrast between the Psalms and Christian hymnals.

7. Idolatry, Oppression and the Development of Demons
Supplementing an argument I make in Reviving Old Scratch, in 2016 I wrote long series about the biblical connections between idolatry and oppression and how these were associated with demons.

The goal of the series was to show that demons involve a mixture of the spiritual (idolatry) and the political (oppression). When it comes to "spiritual warfare," conservatives tend to associate the demonic with the spiritual (e.g., spooky, disembodied spirits) where progressives tend to associate the demonic with the political (e.g., social justice). Consequently, each miss important aspects of spiritual warfare. Conservatives miss how the spiritual warfare should focus on oppression and progressives miss how oppression flows out of worship.

The ten posts in the series, in order, were The Angels of the Nations, The King as Guardian Angel, Territorial Spirits and Angelic Warfare, Lucifer Is the King of Babylon, The Lord of the Flies, The Origins of Hell, The gods of the Nations Became the Demons, The Demon Haunted City, The Prince of This World, and The Spiritual Roots of Liberation Theology.

8. Political Theology
A wrote a lot about political theology in 2016 in two series and a couple of post-election posts.

The first series meditated on Paul's claim in Romans 13 that the state is "God's servant for your good," and that the state "doesn't bear the sword in vain." These were hard posts for me, as I've tended to gravitate toward anti-empire theology. But I think it's important to listen to the parts of Scripture that you'd rather dismiss and ignore. The posts in this series were, in order: Heartburn, The Locust Effect, Political Theology in a Land of 911, Do Black Lives Matter in Ghettoside?, "One Could Do As One Pleased Only With Stateless People", and The Greatest Source of Suffering in the World.

The second political series pondered Yuval Levin's book The Fractured Republic: Renewing America's Social Contract in the Age of Individualism. I was interested in this book because I felt that Levin's analysis might help conservative and progressive Christians find common political ground in working for the common good.

The heart of Levin's analysis is that both conservatives and liberals increasingly look toward the federal government to solve local, community problems, making our politics more polarized and less effective. Meanwhile, the "middle" institutions best positioned to address local and community problems, especially in that murky and difficult territory where the moral and familial mix and intersect with the structural and systemic, have been hollowed out. Levin argues that we can best solve our problems by investing in these local institutions and I find promise in this suggestion as progressives and conservatives both have localist impulses, making local community work a location for political common ground.

Keeping with this localist focus, after the election I wrote a post entitled The Kingdom of God, November 9, 2016.

In that post I pointed out how Jesus' gospel message--his "glad tidings"--was that the kingdom of God had arrived in the midst of an oppressive, colonial occupation. My observation, witnessing the post-election reactions, was that it seems like we're missing a critical piece Jesus' political imagination given the violent swings of emotions we experience in the face of electoral defeat or victory every four years.

And yet, some readers felt that the post was another one of those "Don't worry, God is still on the throne" appeals. So I followed the post up with three other posts to describe what it looks like to confess that "God is on the throne" and the hard, local work we are called to in order to realize the Lordship of Jesus in our midst. Those follow up posts were The Kingdom Comes When You Get in My Face, How to Overcome Racism According to the Early Church, and More On How to Overcome Prejudice and Discrimination According to the Early Church.
 
9. Preterism and the Gospels
In the debates about hell you'll often hear proponents of eternal conscious torment say, "I believe in hell because Jesus believed in hell. The person who talked the most about hell in the Bible was Jesus."

But what if Jesus never believed any such thing? What if hell was an event that happened within history?

Preterism is the view that all biblical prophecy was fulfilled in the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. And while preterist readings of Scripture can tend toward the extreme, preterist readings of the gospels are gaining a wider hearing. The work of N.T. Wright is a prime example. As Wright argues, Jesus was speaking about a coming cataclysm, but this cataclysm wasn't an otherworldly hell where souls were damned for all eternity on Judgment Day. Hell, as Jesus preached it, was a looming national catastrophe that would befall Israel if the nation didn't repent and heed the gospel proclamation.

If this view is new to you, you can read any of N.T. Wright's books about Jesus. Or you can read the eight-part series I did: The Problem is Eschatology, John the Baptist and the Day of the Lord, The Kingdom Has Come, The Great Winnowing, All These Things Will Come Upon This Generation, The Sign of His Coming and the End of the Age, Prophet of Love and Peace and Prophet of Apocalyptic Doom, and Eschatology Revisited.

10. Popular Posts
A specialty of this blog is the long, multi-part series. But there were many stand alone posts that got a lot of attention this year as well. The most popular from 2016 were:

Fragile Worshipers
Learning To Live With Penal Substitutionary Atonement
The Theology of Thrift Stores
The Five Loves
Put Away the Sword: Tragedy and Eschatology
Neo-Reformed Theology and Suffering: What Happens When God Becomes a Math Problem
Pokémon Go and Kingdom Eyes
America's Holocaust

11. Blogging about the Bible
Finally, I continue to pride myself on being a liberal, progressive Christian blogger who loves to write about the Bible. I might be liberal and progressive, but I read the Bible everyday and teach two Bible classes every week, one at church and one out at the prison. And I regularly preach at Freedom Fellowship, a mission church plant I talk a lot about in Reviving Old Scratch.

All that to say, I love studying and sharing insights from Bible study. Some of the best from 2016 were:

An Unbelieving and Perverse Generation and the Suffering of Children
Workers for the Harvest
Faithfulness In Corrupt Systems
Pleroopneumatic Christians

So that was the year 2016 here at Experimental Theology. Thanks for joining me here each week. I look forward to seeing you online or in person in 2017!

Grace and peace,
Richard