in this river, swimming, nearly drowning

These are hard days. They're good days; don't get me wrong. But I find myself in a season of my faith where I am especially aware of being unworthy of the God I worship. Today—right now—as I sit in church surrounded by people who don't appear on the surface to struggle as I do, I am tempted to look down on these, my brothers and sisters, for seeming to feel so confident of their relationship with the Almighty Creator of the world. If I come off as condescending or elitist, please see through it. Please see through to the small little man who is terrified of his faith.

Some of you who read this blog don't share my faith. I understand that. Honestly, I often envy you. If I felt the choice were truly open to me, I might also choose a different belief.

But faith, as I experience it, is like swimming in a swiftly raging river. I choose how to swim or where (whether with the current or against). Perhaps I even chose to jump into this torrent, once upon a time. But now it has me, and I go where it directs, no matter my choices. I feel the apostles words down deep in my bowels, somewhere deeper than my heart and lungs: "I am not my own; I have been bought at a price."

Sometimes, I hate this river. I long for the peace and calm of the shore, or I envy those who seem to ride these waves so leisurely. But I am drowning. My head sometimes rises above the waters, but usually it thrashes just below the surface, sometimes banging against the rocks and threatening me with unconsciousness.

Other times, however, I realize that this river is taking me somewhere I cannot reach on my own, somewhere I could not get to from the safety of river's edge. If I fought long enough, hard enough, I could remove myself from this flow. But the only thing that scares me more than this river is the loss of the feel of its current driving me forward, closer to the One who directs its course. So I continue to struggle, not to remove myself from this river, but to keep myself from drowning in its furious foam.

ΚΑΤΑ ΤΟ . . . A Tribute for Rikki Erin Bera

The Greek phrase κατὰ τό . . . (pronounced kata to . . . ) means "according to . . ." So, for example, the titles printed over the four canonical Gospels are κατὰ Μαθθαῖον [pronounced kata Matthaion], "According to Matthew," κατὰ Μᾶρκον [kata Markon], "According to Mark," and so on.

At any rate, I wanted to give a few thoughts regarding the outpouring of support in the aftermath of my sister's too-early passing away due to cancer. The spirit of this post is, Thank you.

ΚΑΤΑ ΤΟ . . . ("According to . . .")

Kata to . . . the stats on my Facebook post announcing the news that my sister had passed away, 144 people left kind words in the comments. In the immediate hours after I found out that Rikki's body simply could not fight anymore (her spirit, however, fought through the end!), I needed some little distractions. The near-constant ding of my Facebook notifications gave me something else to think on, and your kind words were very encouraging in those first couple of days. Twelve more of you posted comments on my update when I arrived in Phoenix, and thirty-one of you clicked "Like." Thank you.

Kata to . . . the number of posts on my wall, twenty-four people created new posts expressing your condolences, offering your prayers, uploading pictures, and so on. Also, kata to . . . my inbox, twenty-six of you replied to my e-mail announcing the news and let us know that your hearts broke with ours. In addition to that, four of you created new e-mails informing us that your thoughts and prayers were with us. This is in addition to the sixteen messages I received from people at our church. It might not have cost you anything to give me those words, but I cannot express how much they meant to me. Thank you.

Kata to . . . the stack on my table, twenty-six of you sent us cards, some with poetic words in italic fonts, some with very few words at all. All of them seemed appropriate at the time we opened them. One came with a whole pound of Starbucks whole-bean coffee and a mug to drink it with. (Another dear friend hand-delivered a Starbucks tumbler from Seattle!) One came with a CD with stories of coping with cancer. And one came with a pot of yellow mums. Some traveled from across the street; others came cross-country. All of them touched us. Thank you.

Two Services

On a beautiful Saturday afternoon, 10 April 2010, I married my sister to her husband, Justin Bera. I wrote the service myself, and it was a wonderful honor.

Order of Service (Wedding)

Only nine hundred and two days later, on Friday, 28 September 2012, I had the terrible honor—but it was an honor nevertheless—to officiate my sister's funeral service. Again, I wrote the service myself; I hope I never have a similar assignment ever again.
Order of Service (Funeral)

I loved my sister, and she loved me. We didn't always get along, but we weren't supposed to. I was her brother; she was my sister. She will always be my sister. And I will never forget her.

I love you, Rikki. Be well.

Whitney Houston (9 Aug 1963–11 Feb 2012)

I don't usually write about things like this, but Whitney Houston's tragic and premature death has stuck in my brain more than I would have expected. As a child of the 80s, her music is like a soundtrack to my childhood. I can remember my mother putting on "How Will I Know" or "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" as we did chores around the house. Whitney Houston was an era unto herself, a time when Pop music was broad enough to include people who could really (and actually) sing.

Those of us who live on after the death of an icon have to face a particularly difficult problem: How do we strike a balance between the decorum and dignity that we owe the recently deceased, on the one hand, and the honesty and integrity that we owe ourselves as we recall and reflect on a life now lived? Those who fail to show the former seem calloused, cold, and uncaring, while those who fail to show the latter come off as shallow, selective, and . . . well, full of crap. So how do we appreciate and show respect for a woman whose life has so many negative lessons to teach?

I'm not sure. But I can't escape the notion in my own mind that the really tragic aspect of Whitney Houston is not her early death but her heart-breaking life. If anything, 11 February 2012 brought at least one tragic story to a close, and perhaps the world has one less truly unhappy person this morning. Ms. Houston certainly doesn't need my pity, and so I won't be so bold as to offer it. But I do pray that, at the end of her life, she still knew something of the grace of God that she seems to have known so powerfully early in her life. And if not, I take some comfort in knowing that God has said he loved (and loves) Ms. Houston more than any of us enjoyed her music. Her life is now in his hands, but then again her life has always been in his hands.

On a completely unrelated note, my family and I took a trip to a local used bookstore this weekend, and my wife picked up the now-classic Seven Habits of Highly of Effective People, which I originally read in college. One of those habits, if I remember rightly, is, Begin with the End in Mind. Whatever Stephen Covey said about that habit (I don't really remember, though more of this might come from him than I care to admit), this made me realize that I need to live the kind of life today that merits the eulogy I hope to receive at my own funeral. And while I hope to still have decades left in this world (though I might have only minutes), I hope no one at my funeral thinks inwardly or says outwardly that the most salient lessons of my life are tragic lessons.

The world has lost an amazing voice, but it lost that voice long before this weekend last. What we have gained, sadly, is a powerful prompt to stop and consider our own potential, how far we are willing to stretch to reach that potential, and what actually provides the source of our value and significance in and for this world.

16 LORD, in distress we searched for you.
We prayed beneath the burden of your discipline.
17 Just as a pregnant woman
writhes and cries out in pain as she gives birth,
so were we in your presence, LORD.
18 We, too, writhe in agony,
but nothing comes of our suffering.
We have not given salvation to the earth,
nor brought life into the world.
19 But those who die in the LORD will live;
their bodies will rise again!
Those who sleep in the earth
will rise up and sing for joy!
For your life-giving light will fall like dew
on your people in the place of the dead! (Isa. 26.16–19 [NLT])

Greek Text behind the King James Bible

Last week my institution (Johnson University) celebrated the King James Bible and the Quadricentenary of its original publication in 1611. Dr. Tommy Smith presented a brief overview of the historical context of Renaissance and Reformation Europe, esp. the controversies and conflicts facing the Church of England in the wake of Queens Mary and Elizabeth and the ascendance of King James to the English throne. Dr. Greg Linton addressed some mistranslations and misunderstandings in the KJV. Mr. Ron Wheeler discussed the heritage of the KJV on both the English language and English literature. I was assigned the topic, "The Greek Text behind the King James Version." And finally, Dr. Carl Bridges discussed the heritage of the KJV and its influence on subsequent English translations of the Bible.

The entire week was interesting, well-planned (I had no part in the planning), and well-received. No one, perhaps, would be surprised to hear that a quadricentennial celebration of the KJV would be enthralling (nb: sarcasm). But this really was an interesting event. There's talk of compiling the five presentations and making them available. I'll announce it if that happens. FWIW, here's the manuscript of my presentation. I've also included a PDF version of my accompanying PowerPoint presentation. But first, you might also enjoy one of the promotional videos made in preparation for last week. Note the Crocodile Dundee reference at the end.


 
King James Week Promo from Stuart Large on Vimeo.

KJV Four Hundred Year Celebration

Greek Text Behind the KJV Presentation)

silly internet . . .

For reasons that don't need to be explained here, I googled the title of Samuel Byrskog's major work on oral historiography and the Jesus tradition. I can never remember if it's called Story as History, History as Story, or if it's History as Story, Story as History. Anyway, I new the Internet would have the answer, and sure enough, it did. But then I noticed something odd, and I thought I'd share it here. Here's a screenshot:

Even if the picture is cut off, you should be able to see the peculiarity. Amazon, for whatever reason, has classified Byrskog's book in the Interior Design sub-section of their Home & Garden section of their bookstore. Now, Story as History, History as Story is a good-looking book, as you can see. But does it merit classification as "Interior Design"?! You decide.

reading outside the NT

I don't usually read non-NT studies material. It isn't that I want to be parochial or anything like that. I just enjoy NT scholarship so much that I'm not usually drawn to read other things. I do, however, worry about the parochializing effect of my comparatively narrow reading.

Last week, however, my dad bought me a little book called The Go-Giver: A Little Story about a Powerful Business Idea (New York: Portfolio, 2007), by Bob Burg and John David Mann. I read most of it on a plane from Denver to Knoxville (with two kids to distract me), and I finished it yesterday. If I had sat at a quiet place (say, the Starbucks in which I'm currently sitting) and focused on reading it, I think it would have taken me an hour.

This is a fantastic little book, and I highly recommend it to everyone with an hour and a hunger to employ their gifts in deeper service to more people. At the heart of this business parable are five principles, styled "The Five Laws of Stratospheric Success" (please don't judge the whole book by this cheesy line):

• The Law of Value: Your true worth is determined by how much more you give in value than you take in payment.
• The Law of Compensation: Your income is determined by how many people you serve and how well you serve them.
• The Law of Influence: Your influence is determined by how abundantly you place other people's interests first.
• The Law of Authenticity: The most valuable gift you have to offer is yourself.
• The Law of Receptivity: The key to effective giving is to stay open to receiving.

Reading this little book has energized me and challenged me to consider new ways I can serve my students and invest themselves in their success. It has also re-awakened in me the conviction that this service and investment will augment (rather than distract from) my own success as an educator, an academic, and a Christian.

the men of my dreams?

When I woke up this morning I realized that I had been dreaming that I was having a dialogue with Bart Ehrman about David Parker's discussion of the manuscript tradition of Jesus' teaching(s) on divorce (Matt 5.27–32; 19.3–9; Mark 10.2–12; Luke 16.18). I'm sure this says something about me, but for the life of me I just can't imagine what.

Just to add to the weirdness, one of Ehrman's children made a brief cameo appearance (not one of his actual children, I don't think). After Bart and I (we're on a first-name basis) finished, I ran into my Academic Dean.

Dreams don't get much more random than that.

For Parker's analysis, see, The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 75–94.

Forgering Ahead: Bart Ehrman and NT Pseudepigraphy

As I mentioned previously, Bart Ehrman graced our fair city and gave the inaugural David L. Dungan Memorial Lecture, "Does the New Testament Contain Forgeries? The Surprising Claim of Modern Scholars." Ehrman's point was, in a word, Yes, the New Testament does contain forgeries. This doesn't strike me as one of modern scholarship's "surprising claims"; it is, after all, well over two hundred years old. But Ehrman's point—and he may be right here—is that the results of the work of "modern scholars" has not been as widely diffused as we might like. Of course, Ehrman presents the results of modern scholarship in rather tendentious terms (I don't think you have to be a fundamentalist or even conservative Christian to agree with this); it would be "surprising" if NT scholars began calling pseudepigraphal (falsely inscribed) texts "forgeries."

At any rate, Ehrman's lecture is available on the University of Tennessee's website; see here for the video (including the Q&A that followed), which is linked with Ehrman's PowerPoint. An even dozen of my institution's faculty, staff, and students attended the lecture on Thursday, 27 January, and last night (9 February) we met—along with some interested students who weren't able to attend the lecture—to discuss Ehrman's claims. I think a helpful and encouraging discussion followed, and on top of that we got to eat dinner together. Score!

I prepared written notes for last night's discussion. First I tried to summarize Ehrman's lecture to remind us what we heard (or to catch up any students who weren't able to hear Ehrman in person); then I responded to two aspects of the lecture ([i] his use of the term, forgery, and [ii] his tabulation of NT documents). Of course, there were other things to respond to, but I limited my prepared remarks to these two. You're welcome to look over my comments; if you have any additional insights, any questions, or if I misrepresent Ehrman or respond inappropriately to him, please feel free to leave a comment here.

Can We Trust the New Testament? A Response to Bart D. Ehrman

Bart Ehrman in Knoxville

The University of Tennessee has created a new lectureship, the David L. Dungan Memorial Lecture. The inaugural lecture, "Does The New Testament Contain Forgeries? The Surprising Claims of Modern Scholars," will be presented by Bart D. Ehrman at the University Center auditorium at 5.00 pm on Thursday, 27 January 2011. The UT press release is available here.

a cool thing, I guess

I'm still reading The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres (A. Weissenrieder and R. Coote, eds.; WUNT 260; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). At the moment I'm working through Annette Weissenrieder's essay, "The Didactic of Images: The Fig Tree in Mark 11:12–14 and 20–21" (260–82). Weissenrieder locates the story of Jesus cursing of the fig tree in Mark 11 in Rome rather than in Palestine—not that Mark places Jesus in Rome but that the fig tree generates meaning within the context of Rome's foundation story (which Weissenrieder documents) rather than with Hebrew biblical themes of Israel, judgment, and fig trees.

At any rate, she writes the following:

What does the motif of the fig tree associated with the suckling twins Romulus and Remus and with the goddess Roma on the coins and on the Ara Pacis, have to do with the withered fig tree in Mark 11? The connection would be provided if Jesus' saying about the fig tree, which produces no fruit and for that reason withers, alluded to Rome's foundation saga, in particular and Augustus's new version of the saga and its intensification by Claudius and Nero. Jesus' word on the cursing of the fig tree thus would point to a historical event. (274)

At the end of this paragraph Weissenrieder places a footnote and references a number of books, including Jesus, the Voice, and the Text (T. Thatcher, ed. [see here]), Memory, Tradition, and Text (A. Kirk and T. Thatcher, eds.), and Performing the Gospel (R. Horsley et al., eds.). But I was surprised to find my own book, Structuring Early Christian Memory: Jesus in Tradition, Performance, and Text included in the footnote. Now, to be honest, I'm not sure how my book supports her point—that "Jesus' word on the cursing of the fig tree thus would point to a historical event"—but I'm glad to find my work cited here.

Annette: If somehow you ever happen to find this post, perhaps you could provide a brief explanation?

the best sign ever

Why society—like information—moves at the speed of volunteer, unpaid acquisitions editors.

HT: InsideHigherEd

Why I don't take my daughters to playgrounds

Today's blogging theme appears to be, "YouTubing my way toward Saturday."



[HT: Ben Myers]

best analogy

Not many blog posts merit reposting. This one does.

Best Analogy Ever? The Bible is like a Software License

HT to Rev. Jeremy Smith for this great analogy:

[HT: James McGrath]

do you Growl?

Earlier this week I mentioned that I began using Dropbox. But the next day I noticed that both my home computers displayed a notification that a "new version of Growl is available online." I've never heard of Growl; I certainly didn't know it was on my computers. After a quick search I found Growl's website, which prominently displays a link:

If Growl was installed on your system without you knowing about it, please see this page for an explanation.

Something made me think others had experienced this, too. Apparently a couple programs install Growl without asking permission; Dropbox was the first of these mentioned. My question: Those of you who use Dropbox, do you also use Growl, or did you uninstall Growl and turn off Dropbox's Growl support?

a f/Father's love

On Friday, 6 August 2010, ten humanitarian workers were killed in Afghanistan by Taliban militants. One of those ten was Cheryl Beckett, whose father, Charles, is a local minister in south Knoxville and an adjunct teacher at my institution of higher education.

Charles Beckett is a friend of mine and—more than that—an example of how a man should love his daughter(s). The selfish father in me wants to keep my daughters near at hand and available for my own sense of family and fulfillment. Charles's example reminds me that I am their father, not their Father, and that true love trusts my daughters to his loving and perfect care. I pray I will one day love my daughters that much.



[The full story is available on knoxnews.com.]

Jerusalem Syndrome: is this a "turn of phrase"?

James Davila mentions an article from Emunah magazine heralding a decrease in "Jerusalem Syndrome." I think Jim's right that the fundamental problem—differentiating reality from fantasy—remains, even if this particular malady is on the decline. But I point out Israeli psychologist Gregory Katz's description of at-risk groups:

“The majority of patients that come into the psychiatric clinic with religious delusions were already suffering from psychological problems before they arrived in the holy city.” He says that those most susceptible these days are extremely religious persons who are ninety-eight percent Christian. They normally come from remote rural areas and in most cases and are traveling abroad for the first time in their lives. (emphasis added)

Ninety-eight percent Christianity, apparently, isn't enough. You need to be one hundred percent sold out to Jesus. Then you can safely visit the Holy City without fear of transmogrification into the Virgin Mary or whatever.

syncing files with Dropbox

Yesterday I created an account with Dropbox, an online file-syncing and -sharing service that gives you 2Gs of free storage, with significantly more for a subscription fee. I work on most of my files on my MacBook, so syncing across multiple machines isn't a high priority for me.

But off-site backup is. Also, I am planning a collaborative project with a colleague in the UK, and it looks like this service enables us to access (and edit) the same files (rather than multiple copies of the same file). With Dropbox, you can also undelete files and access previous versions of files. This also isn't a feature I will use frequently, but those relatively rare instances when you do need to undelete a file (or to revert to a previous version), you really need to undelete. So there's a sense of security knowing that I can't accidentally scrub my lecture notes for this semester from my computer.

[HT: James McGrath]

another great turn of phrase

In his discussion of the Son of Man in Luke's gospel, Benjamin Reynolds uses the following phrase (in italics). I'm not sure if this was intentional:

Also, the Son of Man's appearance on that day will be like lightning (17.24; cf. Matt 24.27), and as noted above, lightning is commonly associated with the appearance of God (Exod 19.16; 2 Sam 22.15//Ps 18.14; Ps 77.17–18; 97.4; Ezek 1.13; Hab 3.11; Zech 9.14). Strikingly, the Messiah in 2 Baruch is also depicted as lightning (53.8–9; 70.9–10). (emphasis added)¹

---

¹ Benjamin E. Reynolds, The Apocalyptic Son of Man in the Gospel of John (WUNT II 249; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 75.

on great turns of phrase

I'm currently reading Virginia Burrus's article, "The Heretical Woman as Symbol in Alexander, Athanasius, Epiphanius, and Jerome" (Harvard Theological Review 84/3 [1991]: 229–48). The first full paragraph on p. 231 begins:

Christ and other feminist scholars have succeeded in redeeming the heretical woman, removing her from the margins of history and placing her instead at the center of a long tradition of women's struggles against patriarchal orthodoxy. (Burrus, "Heretical Woman," 231)

If it sounds like Burrus includes Christ among the "feminist scholars," that's because she does. Of course, it might help to know that she's engaging an essay written by Carol Christ.

Terminator Jesus?

Fire and property damage are never funny. But then this story reminds me of the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal, in which Elijah calls down fire from heaven.

The Solid Rock Church, just off I-75 north of Cincinnati, OH, built a three-story tall statue of Jesus early in the previous decade. Everyone referred to this statue as "Touchdown Jesus" for reasons obvious to anyone familiar with American football.

This week that statue was struck by lightning and burned like Elijah's sacrifice. The images (available here) of the steel frame left behind after the fire destroyed the plastic foam and fiberglass reminded me of the classic Terminator. And can't we all imagine Jesus telling the Eleven just before the Ascension, "Hasta la vista, baby," or (wait for it . . .), "I'll be back."

Update: A colleague mentions this event on his blog.