The Gundrys and Me, by Ruth Tucker

Stan and Pat Smith Gundry. Where would my life be today without them? This little series began with A. B. Simpson, founder of the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Last week, I continued with Elisabeth Elliot’s influence on my life. Like Simpson and Elliot, Stan and Pat have left very large footprints on the evangelical world and on my life in particular. Where would I be today had Pat not written Woman Be Free! and had Stan not been fired from Moody Bible Institute? Forced to leave his teaching position in Chicago, he would spend the next decades at Zondervan Publishing House in Grand Rapids, and that is where I first encountered him.

In last week’s post I recalled how I was flying by the seat of my pants developing college-level courses on subjects I didn’t know anything about. But I successfully turned a History of Missions course away from mind-numbing facts into a biographical history.  It made the subject matter interesting and stirred up class discussion. After teaching it a second year, I put together a proposal and sent it to Stan at Zondervan. I told him that, having taught the course for years (I didn’t say it was only two), I had discovered that it was best taught through biography. He got back to me confessing that History of Missions had been the most boring course he had taken in seminary and that he would be interested in seeing chapters—chapters that would become my text, From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya.

Stan passed me on to a good editor, Mark Hunt, and through him (with Stan’s encouragement), I was connected with Walt Kaiser, academic dean at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, where I would teach part-time for seventeen years, flying back and forth from Grand Rapids. It was there where I became acquainted with Scot, so the line of influence comes right up to this post.

But back to my first teaching job at Grand Rapids School of the Bible and Music. Another course that fell into my lap because the regular teacher wanted out was Women in Ministry. The previous teacher had taught how to be a proper pastor’s wife and hostess as well as how to put together a mother-daughter banquet and an assortment of other practical tips. Although I had been a pastor’s wife for six years, I did not shine in that arena. Much of my time had been devoted to writing a doctoral dissertation. So again I was trying to figure out how to teach a course. And then I laid my hands on a book published a year earlier in 1977, Woman Be Free!  My life would never be the same.

I learned from Pat and then from others that a woman could do much more in ministry than be a pastor’s wife. So, I would feature strong women of the Bible and in church history and we would dig into passages that had been wrongly interpreted to keep women out of ministry. The students were startled by my course material, but I was getting the information from actual books so it must be true. Fortunately, the president of the school seemed to have no problem with my budding feminism, having known women preachers, including his Methodist grandmother. Just don’t start teaching Calvinism, he warned me.

After having taught this course several times, utilizing my training as a historian, it was a natural step to begin team-teaching a course at Trinity on women in ministry with Walt Liefeld, a New Testament expert. Then together we pitched a book proposal to Stan—a volume that would become Daughters of the Church.

Again, Pat’s foundational research was critical. And I realized how much I resonated with her personal perspective. Responding to an interviewer, she answered:

I had always been a feminist and egalitarian, before I knew those terms. I’d been raised to be an independent thinker, confident in my ability to do and be whatever I set out to do or be. It came as a shock to me as an older child to realize that some people would want to limit my opportunities solely because I was female.

We were both raised on farms, Arkansas and Wisconsin, though Pat’s family moved to California when she was young. She gravitated to the domestic side of life, whereas I preferred driving a tractor or milking cows—anything but the kitchen where Pat was a natural. In fact, once when Pat and Stan had been hosting Moody students in their home, two young men on noticing her shelves of cookbooks were surprised that a feminist would be handy in the kitchen. Indeed, she has since published a cookbook of her own. But it was Woman Be Free! and subsequent books, including Heirs Together, that would shape the conversation for Christian Feminism. Also decisive was her role in founding Christians for Biblical Equality (and her naming the CBE journal, The Priscilla Papers, contributing some of the early articles).

As a Moody professor’s wife, she had considerable freedom, and during that time was actively involved in the effort to pass the Equal Rights Amendment into law. Hers was hardly a radical stance. There was bipartisan support in both Houses of Congress as well as from Presidents Nixon, Ford and Carter. It would go on to be ratified by 35 states, only three states short of the necessary 38. But that is when STOP ERA was bringing out its big guns—that of trashing ERA supporters, or, in this case, the husband of a supporter. Opponents “wrote letters to Moody administrators denouncing me, and my husband,” writes Pat. “The letters were full of distortions and downright lies, which Moody administrators said they knew were fabrications.” But as the volume of letters increased so did the fear that the school would lose financial support. Thus, the decision to fire a fine professor, a brilliant scholar and writer.

Before teaching at Moody, Stan had been a Baptist minister as had his father. Women’s roles in the home and in ministry were simply assumed to be secondary to those of men. Stan’s father, in fact, kept a stash of John R. Rice’s Bobbed Hair, Bossy Wives and Women Preachers, giving away copies to fellow travelers. During his college and seminary years, and even after marriage to Pat, Stan held the traditional view with no inclination to defend bossy wives or women preachers. But it was in the following years as the children were growing that Pat had begun studying the Bible to see if Rice and others had actually interpreted passages correctly. Her questions and further study led to long discussions with Stan, and he credits her for his slow change of mind.

Responding to a request for an article in Priscilla Papers, Stan wrote:

I have agreed to tell my story for two fundamental reasons. 1) I want to give tribute to the person who opened my eyes to a new paradigm through which to view Scripture and who did not allow me to be satisfied with the easy answers. These were answers that had been drilled into my head as a youth and were assumed throughout my college and seminary training. 2) Arguments alone often do not convince. This is especially so with theological and exegetical arguments on this subject that for many has so much emotional baggage associated with it. So, when people come to me asking questions and searching for answers on the “women’s issue,” I often just tell them my story—where I have come from, where I have landed, and how and why I got there.

Stan tells how in the early 1970s be began seeing the Bible more holistically. He “began to see that the passages that were barriers to . . . moving to a fully egalitarian position needed to be understood in terms of the big picture.” It is the big picture “that establishes the context for understanding the difficult passages.” His position slowly changed. “By 1974 in my lectures and discussions with students at Moody Bible Institute, I was affirming a view that was essentially egalitarian.”

Stan goes on to say far more than can be recounted here, but I take three critical things from him: He was willing to learn from a woman (even as Apollos had learned from Priscilla); he looked at the big picture of Scripture; and he recognized emotional baggage. This final point should stop all of us in our tracks. Whenever we hear someone pontificating on their precise exegesis and hermeneutical expertise related to a particular passage, we do well to wonder what kind of emotional baggage is hiding inside their heads.

My connections with Stan have continued over the years and I was privileged to contribute an article for a Festschrift in 2017 honoring him on his 80^th birthday and his decades of ministry at Zondervan where he continues to serve today. My relationship with Pat has continued as well. I love her wry sense of humor, as when she related to an interviewer her baptism at thirteen:

Unlike most Baptists, though, I was immersed twice. Just as I was catching my breath, the pastor dipped me under again. Later, he explained that he’d not immersed some part of me completely, and he knew there would be objections if he didn’t do it again. I don’t know what kind of Baptist that makes me, maybe a DuoBaptist.

That sense of humor, along with her wise counsel, helped me survive two very difficult times in my life—after escaping a violent marriage in 1987 and again nearly two decades later after I had been terminated from Calvin Seminary.

Thank you, Pat and Stan, for your generosity of spirit in all the ways you have profoundly influenced my life.

Postscript

I “borrowed” these photos from Pat’s Facebook. Neither she nor Stan have known of my intentions to post any of this on Jesus Creed.

What a little beauty is Pat Smith. I would have loved to have had her as my BFF when I was growing up. She looks like she’s ready to take on the world. Below, daughter Ann is kissing her Mom, who sure doesn’t look like some sort of radical women’s libber to me.

By Corey Farr

“Wait, you’re a virgin?” she said to me.

We hadn’t seen each other since high school. This isn’t exactly the kind of question you’d expect to come up in random small talk with a girl you haven’t seen in eight years and hadn’t been all that close to in the first place, but she had noticed the silver cross-engraved ring on my right hand and asked if I was married. “Nope, that’s the wrong hand,” I said with a laugh. “It’s my purity ring. Remember those? Yeah, I think I’m the only one who’s still got mine.” And so she popped the question, so to speak, “Wait … you’re a virgin?I don’t think I’ve ever even met a virgin!”

I laughed as she said it, but I also was reminded of how very real this was even for people like us who went to Christian school together. Without any judgment or sense of superiority, I explained that I was very much enjoying my life as a single, although I had almost been engaged a couple years prior. At that point she really couldn’t believe that I had made it this long without sex. I mean, almost engaged and you never even got frisky? I shared about how fulfilling I found life in the church and how I really wanted to stick with my commitment to remaining a virgin until if and when I get married.

This passing conversation that I would have easily missed out on if I had chosen to get up and go to the bathroom or just check my phone to avoid the awkward obligatory “catch up” small talk had a profound effect on my friend. Although there were plenty of other pieces to the puzzle, this was one thing that helped spark her desire to return to church and make a new commitment to her faith, which she is still pursuing to this day.

The problem with “purity”

It’s hard to understate the incredible power of the witness of abstinence that single Christians enjoy. “Enjoy” might not be the first word to come to mind for many of us though. Endure, maybe, but not like the endurance of an Olympic marathoner – more like the “enduring” we experience during long lines at the DMV or the grocery store. We’ve discussed “purity” with a vocabulary of pure negation – wait, don’t, stop, be careful, save yourself, flee immorality, and yes, sin – and so no one in the Church truly wants to enjoy our version of “purity.” But there’s another narrative – one that redefines intimacy and reorients our desires around our souls rather than our genitals. And for that reason, it touches the deepest needs of the human heart. It’s a whole lot better than the seemingly arbitrary electric fences our youth pastors put up around everything from holding hands to getting freaky under the sheets.

But if you’re a single reading this, Jesus follower or not, there’s a pretty good chance you are not a virgin. And if you’re in the Church, you’ve probably been told (directly or indirectly) that you have “lost your purity.”

Maybe this hurts deeply. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you are full of regret, or maybe you’re actually just hoping for the next opportunity to “get some” – if you aren’t already regularly doing so. Maybe you think that you’re just not strong enough to meet the high expectations of purity you were given; or maybe you think those same expectations are a load of primitive, archaic, medieval, puritanical bullcrap. Maybe you were scared with a list of dangers of premarital dangers of sex, like STDs and teen pregnancies, that not only seem far-fetched but made you feel like God’s only reason for asking you to wait until marriage was to avoid these kinds of “punishments.” Or maybe you’re the one who ended up pregnant, whose story was used to scare the others into getting in line while simultaneously shaming you.

We’ve discussed “purity” with a vocabulary of pure negation – wait, don’t, stop, be careful, save yourself, flee immorality, and yes, sin – and so no one in the Church truly wants to enjoy our version of “purity.” (Click to share on Twitter)

Wherever you’re at while reading this, I want to invite you to be right there. I’m not here to preach about abstinence. Instead, I want to focus on casting a vision for the positive narrative of sexuality that has been so lacking. Rather than a how-to guide on “sexual purity,” the goal here is to focus in on the unique set of values that can not only compel us towards abstinence but, more importantly, witness to the Kingdom of God.

Intimacy is different from intercourse

“Anyone can live without sex, but no one can live without intimacy.” This quote from Mike Moore showed up in the first post in this series, and I want to circle look a little more closely at the idea of intimacy.

The word intimacy is related to the Latin word intimus, which means “inmost.” Intimacy is about a deep sense of belonging and love created through transparency, dialogue, and sharing. Although it also refers to physical and sexual relations, this aspect is a lot farther down the list of definitions when you consult the dictionary. Sadly, our culture has hijacked the word, redefining intimacy almost entirely in sexual terms. In fact, to talk about “intimate” friendships with people in the Church, especially when they are of the opposite sex, will often raise some eyebrows. Some might wonder, “What exactly are you guys doing at Bible study?”

We need prophetic voices like Mike Moore to remind us that intimacy is different from intercourse. Mutual love and a sense of belonging are two of our most basic needs, and intimacy is perhaps the best word to describe the way in which they are met. I’m not quite sure why Jesus said that there will be no marriage in heaven (Luke 20:35), but I think that a big part of understanding this teaching has to do with embracing a much deeper understanding of intimacy than what we have been given.

The irony is that a culture so obsessed with sex can be so desperately lacking in real intimacy. And yet, it is actually not ironic at all; the lack of intimacy is preprogrammed into our misunderstanding of the word itself. By setting up sexual fulfillment as the peak of intimacy, it becomes all too easy to completely miss out on this deeper, fuller, more satisfying reality. The intimacy narrative our culture has fed us needs to be replaced with a better one, because until we can do that, we will continue to find our desires shaped by the false narrative, and we will never recognize intimacy outside of intercourse.

God can’t meet all your needs

What does it look like to reorient our sexual desires in light of a more accurate understanding of intimacy when we are constantly receiving messages that sex should be at the top of our priority list? If you’re a single person reading this, you might be skeptical that I’m going to pull out old “find all your needs met in God” trick. Don’t worry – I’m not going there, and I don’t think that ever really works in this area.

Wait, what? Did he just say God can’t meet all my needs? Yes, I did, but let me explain first. We’ve already covered that intimacy – loving and belonging – is one of the most basic human needs. We’re designed for connection. Author Ame Fuhlbruck makes a very helpful distinction, “While spirituality is oriented around our longing to connect with God, sexuality has to do with our longing to connect meaningfully with people.” Although I don’t think this dualistic paradigm is very helpful for defining spirituality, since I believe every part of our life is spiritually significant, Fuhlbruck is making an insightful observation by dividing up human needs for both connection with God and with others in a way that directly parallels the Greatest Commandment of Jesus to love God and others.

Now we need to pause for a moment and look at this word “sexuality.” Some theologians and scholars have distinguished between genital sexuality and social sexuality. Genital sexuality is exactly what it sounds like, and it is pretty much limited to what we have been taught sexuality is. But social sexuality goes far beyond just “messing around.” Social sexuality encompasses all of the affective/emotional relationships in our lives: family, friends, community, etc. Both of these types of sexuality (which can also overlap at times) make up part of the human need for intimate relationships.

You’ve heard the culture’s throwaway line to those struggling with being single: “You need to get laid.” But the truth is that when we experience sexual longing, it may not be actual sex that we need. We may need to be listened to, we may need someone to laugh with, we may need company. These are needs—sexual needs, broadly defined—that the Church should be ready to meet with joy. We should be able to “greet one another with a holy kiss” (or a more culturally acceptable hug) without such physical and relational contact being viewed with suspicion and fear. –Bronwyn Lea

What makes this distinction so incredibly helpful for singles is that we don’t have commit to living our lives as perpetually sexually unsatisfied. Embracing a holistic sexual narrative, one that realizes that physical acts of sex are only a small piece of what makes up human sexuality, which is itself simply the desire for intimacy with other humans that was hard-wired into us by God.

If sexuality represents the human need for intimacy with other people, then no, God alone cannot fully meet that need. We were designed for community, and God did not create us in such a way that all of our relational needs can be met through an isolated, vacuum-sealed “personal relationship” with him. This is not for a second to deny the goodness or sufficiency of God; it’s actually just to agree with what he has already told us.

All throughout Scripture, we find the importance of community for the people of God. The more we are able to live into this reality with the Jesus followers around us – the more we cultivate our social sexuality – then with time the easier it will become to acknowledge, put in perspective, and deal with our urges for genital sexuality.

This new narrative highlights how important intimate relationships are for meeting our needs and fulfilling our deepest longings. It brings the importance of community to the forefront of our spiritual and social imaginations. This alone will not just magically make our hunger to go to bed with someone else just go away, but it can help us put that hunger in its place.

When we see our sexuality holistically, in other words, when we see that our physical and emotional and spiritual longings are all intimately connected as expressions of a basic need for connection and belonging, then we can prioritize finding and investing in relationships that can help touch that deep need.

We are looking at Michael LeFebvre’s recent book The Liturgy of Creation, and his argument that the creation week in Genesis 1 is a calendar narrative designed as a guide for faithful work and sabbath worship. He begins by looking at the calendar of the ancient world.

Paul starts his letter to the Romans making the case that all peoples are aware of God:

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. (Romans 1:20)

In Lystra, Paul and Barnabas expand on this idea connecting it with the regularity of the calendar:

We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made the heavens and the earth and the sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.” (Acts 14:15-17)

In the ancient world the calendar was in the sky, governed by the sun and the moon. Michael LeFebvre argues that the awareness of God Paul refers to in the passages above is written in these days, months, and seasons marked by the motions of the sun and the moon.  As the Psalmist wrote “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (19:1)  The orderly progression of seasons, the cycle of rains and and sun, are essential to produce the food necessary for life.  All ancient peoples recognized the importance of the celestial calendar.

The year ran from equinox to equinox – from harvest to harvest or from planting to planting.  In Canaan, Sumer, Babylon, and Egypt the regular progression of seasons – times to sow and times to reap – are connected with conflicts between deities. Le Febvre points to the Baal Epic in Canaan, in Ur to a contest between Utu and Nanna, in Egypt to a tale involving Osiris, Set, and Horus. LeFebvre uses the term “myth” to refer to these stories of conflict between gods – “a myth is a story that explains present, this-worldly realities through a description of primeval, other-worldly causes such as battles between the gods.” (p. 14) This is a common, although somewhat limiting, definition of the word myth, but it helps LeFebvre make several important points.

The separation of seasons from “myth” (as defined by LeFebvre) is seen in Genesis 1:14 And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years.” The lights keep the calendar, marking the passage of time. They mark the fixed times for festivals (sacred times) that celebrate the changing seasons. The lights are utilitarian objects, serving the purposes ordained by God. Whether the peoples acknowledge it or not, they are all aware of the eternal nature and divine power of God who provides both rain and crops. Jesus uses this reality in teaching us to love our enemies for … He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. (Mt 5:45)

In ancient Israel the festivals were governed by the same seasons of the year as in the rest of the ancient near East, but they are connected to the exodus from Egypt instead of other-worldly battles between gods. Thus, rather than having a “mythical” foundation, they are grounded in the historical redemption of the people from captivity and slavery. The divinely ordained festivals are listed in Leviticus 23: the Sabbath every seventh day; the Passover, the Festival of Unleavened Bread, and Offering of the Firstfruits in the month of the spring equinox; the Festival of Weeks in the third month after the spring equinox; the Festival of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Festival of Tabernacles in the month of the autumn equinox. Some of these festivals are grounded in specific events of the exodus, while others recognize the providence of God in providing food for the people.

Genesis 1:14 connects the creation work of God with his ordained festivals in Leviticus. The lights do not simply designate seasons as many English bibles translate this verse. The greater light and the lesser light (sun and moon) serve to mark the sacred times – the times of the divinely ordained festivals, the times set aside for worship of the creator.

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net.

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St Francis: A Kidnapping and a Creche, by Ruth Tucker

If there had been an Assisi Inquirer, the story would have been the headliner: “Thirty-year-old homeless man kidnaps seventeen-year-old girl.” The date was pre-dawn Palm Sunday, 1212. My segment on Clare in Extraordinary Women of Christian History begins thus:

Just when it seems it would be impossible to surpass the story of Heloise for sheer suspense and sex appeal, here comes Clare of Assisi (1194-1253). At first glance she is little more than one more medieval holy woman canonized a saint for a perfect life. But in many ways her story is every bit as fascinating as that of Heloise whose name seems incomplete unless paired with Abelard. So also, Clare and Francis.

Both Francis and Clare hailed from Assisi. Growing up in this walled Roman town, everyone knew each other. Clare was considered a beauty and enjoyed all the luxuries a girl could want as a daughter in a noble family living in a castle. She may have even daydreamed about the dashing young man a dozen years her senior. “Francis was one of those people who are popular with everybody,” writes G.K. Chesterton, “and his guileless swagger as a Troubadour and leader of French fashions made him a sort of romantic ringleader among the young men of the town.” Clare would become betrothed, however, to a man of her same social standing. It was an arranged marriage which she would reject when she came under the spell of Francis.

At thirty, he was no longer a swaggering Troubadour. Here is how Joan Acocella introduces him in an article in the New Yorker:

“Why you?” a man asked Francesco di Bernadone, known to us now as St. Francis of Assisi. Francis (1181/2-1226) was scrawny and plain-looking. He wore a filthy tunic, with a piece of rope as a belt, and no shoes. While preaching, he often would dance, weep, make animal sounds, strip to his underwear, or play the zither. His black eyes sparkled. Many people regarded him as mad, or dangerous. They threw dirt at him. Women locked themselves in their houses.

Francis had renounced family wealth to become a lone follower of Jesus. Then in 1208 he wrote in his Testament: “God gave me [two] brothers.” Within two years, the two brothers had increased to 12—that being the inauspicious beginning of the Franciscans. His motivation for his humanitarian ministry was simple: “Preach the gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.” This timeless maxim, however, did not apply a few years later when he co-founded Clare’s Poor Ladies. They were cloistered behind high walls.

In my church history courses, I used to ask my students if Francis was married. Of course not was the obvious answered. But by his own account, he was married to “a fairer bride than any of you have ever seen.” She was the absolute love of his life, and he remained faithful to the very end. Her name? Lady poverty. Clare would later be married as well, as her written prayer indicates:

Draw me after you, heavenly Spouse . . .

bring me into the wine cellar . . .

our left hand is under my head

and your right arm blissfully embraces me;

and you kiss me with the most blissful kiss of your mouth.

Clare was dead serious about her vocation. Francis was a bit of a clown.  “Everyone who knew him,” writes Acocella, found “an extreme natural sweetness. He was courteous, genial, extroverted—he was fun, a quality not always found in saints—and he laid it upon the brothers, as a duty, to be cheerful.” And he was no doubt cheerful during the midnight caper when he kidnapped Clare.

For months they had conversed through clandestine rendezvous, going over every detail of his planned intrigue for her ultimate escape. What to do with her after that was not clearly stipulated.  Indeed, Francis was flying by the seat of his pants. He would figure it out when the time came. The family castle looked out onto the piazza, next door to the cathedral. It was in plain sight. Stealth was the key. When Francis and his comrades arrived, Clare escaped through an upper window. “The first stop on this underground railroad,” I write, “was a makeshift forest chapel where Francis and his followers were holed up. Here before an altar to the Blessed Virgin, Francis ceremoniously sheared off her long flowing hair, and then gave her his own course robe to wear instead of her fine gown and cloak. He then escorted her to a Benedictine convent for temporary lodging.”

Whether the audacious deed is deemed an elopement or outright kidnapping depends on perspective. Today a teenage girl whisked away in the dark of night at the bidding of a cult leader twelve years her senior would be considered a kidnap victim. And so she was even back then.

But how could this cult leader get away with it? Francis knew that Church law trumped local law. So when the local law officials arrived to forcibly take her home, she followed his directions and clung hard to the altar. In fact, so tenacious was she that her tattered gown tore as they tried to pull her away, exposing her cropped hair.  The altar and the hair were enough to convince the posse that they were not simply dealing with Francis. They were dealing with God—and his Church.

The Franciscans and Poor Clares are still active today. I’ve interviewed Poor Clares who have a ministry in Saginaw, Michigan, as well as Franciscan Sisters who have a farm located near Lowell, Michigan. Today there are upwards of five thousand Franciscan friars worldwide, and a Pope named Francis. Indeed, Clare and Francis have had a very long shelf life.

According to tradition, Francis was the first to celebrate with a live manger scene at Christmas. The year was 1223, and he was the perfect candidate to launch the tradition. He loved animals and he had connections. At the time he was residing near Greccio, some sixty miles south of Assisi, north of Rome. He borrowed animals and a wax figure of the holy infant, and volunteers stood in for Mary, Joseph and the shepherds. The Pope had given his approval, and the show was a big hit. For most passers-by it was truly a revelation. Mass was said in Latin, and most in the congregation had little understanding. They may have heard tell of the nativity, but in this setting the response was no doubt: Now, I get it.

And what about Clare and Christmas? Her story is not dated—indeed, probably better that way. We wouldn’t want to try to track the account down and prove her wrong. One Christmas Eve she was so ill that she was unable to attend midnight mass at the Church of St. Francis. She was alone, her sister nuns all having left their quarters and gone together in a group. But not wanting to leave her in sorrow, Jesus, to whom she had pledged her troth, came to her bed, lifted her up and carried her to the church a mile away. After the service was over, she was carried back the way she came. When the sisters returned, lamenting her absence, she explained that she had been there assisting at the altar and that she herself had partaken of the Holy Eucharist.

Unlike the live nativity created by Francis, Clare’s Christmas performance is not easy to emulate. Actually a live nativity is problematic as well, especially here in Michigan where temperatures sometimes drop to the single digits. But not to worry, local box stores display nativities with easy set up. Home Depot offers a “Nativity Scene Inflatable with Built-in LEDs Blow Up.” Walmart’s 6-foot inflatable carries a more appropriate religious description: “Holy Family Nativity” for only $119.99. Unfortunately, the 7-foot “Holy Family” at $140.00 is out of stock. But even the smaller in-store model is hard to get as one reviewer commented: “Cashier said that they sell out of this nativity every time a new batch is delivered, so we ordered it online. Love that this inflatable celebrates the true meaning of Christmas.”

This is what religious freedom is all about. Christians must stand in solidarity to defend Holy Family inflatables.

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14

Taken up again in the Gospel of Matthew

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). (1:22-23)

Most Christians have a deep appreciation for the scriptures, both the Old Testament and the New Testament. For those who were not raised in the church however, or who have for any one of a number of reasons become distrustful of the reliability of the scriptures, the questions are quite different. Scripture relates some pretty incredible events and stories – the virgin birth is high on the list. Why should intelligent educated person in secular, modern or postmodern, enlightened, Western society take this seriously?

Dr. John Polkinghorne’s book Testing Scripture: A Scientist Explores the Bible can provide some useful insights here – whether one agrees with him across the board or disagrees with some of his conclusions. Dr. Polkinghorne was a very successful scientist, an expert and creative theoretical physicist involved in the discovery of quarks. He was Professor of Mathematical Physics at Cambridge University before he resigned to study for the Anglican priesthood. He has since been a parish priest, Dean of the Chapel at Trinity Hall Cambridge and President of Queen’s College, Cambridge. After retirement he continues to write, think, and lecture about the interface between science and faith. In Testing Scripture Polkinghorne isn’t dogmatic or defensive about about scripture, rather he is explaining why he, as a scientist, scholar, and Christian, takes scripture seriously. Both faith and reason play a role in his approach to scripture.

The Gospels record a reliable history. Within the historical conventions of their time they tell the gospel; the story of the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus as the good news of God’s work in the world. Dr. Polkinghorne works through a number of different episodes and events as he describes his reasons for taking the Gospels seriously. One of the most interesting, though, is the one he leaves for last.

I have left till last what are among the best-known and best-loved narratives in the Gospels: the stories of the birth of Jesus. We find them only in Matthew 1.18-2.12 and Luke 2.1-20. John, after his timeless Prologue, and Mark, without any preliminaries, both start with the encounters between John the Baptist and Jesus at the beginning of the public ministry. We are so used to conflating the two gospel accounts that it is only when we read them carefully and separately that we become aware of how different they are. Luke seems to tell the story very much from the point of view of Mary, and the visitors to the newborn Jesus are the humble shepherds. Matthew seems to see things much more from Joseph’s perspective, and his visitors are the magi. … Luke gives us a very specific dating of the birth in relation to a Roman census, but there are severe scholarly difficulties in reconciling this with Matthew’s (plausible) statement that it took place during the reign of Herod the Great. A principle concern of both narratives is to explain why, if Mary’s home was at Nazareth, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, as Messianic prophecy required. I do not doubt that there is historical truth preserved in the birth stories, but establishing its exact content is not an easy task. (p. 67-68)

As with some of the other stories in the gospels and in other parts of scripture there are discrepancies that can be difficult to reconcile and harmonize. There is no strong reason, however, to doubt a historical root, down to and including the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem.

A Virgin Conceived. The conception of Jesus is a different issue. Matthew 1:18 relates the claim:

This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.

Joseph responds to Mary’s pregnancy by planning to divorce her and an angel in a dream reiterates the claim “what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” Luke 1:34-35 records Mary’s response when told she would conceive and give birth to a son, the Messiah.

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.

The very idea that a virgin conceived and bore a son raises an eyebrow or two in our secular Western society – both modern and postmodern. At the risk of being a little too earthy – conception in humans requires input from two sources. After all, we all know that an egg from the woman requires the DNA from the sperm provided by a man to make it whole, capable of producing a new individual. One might, perhaps conceive of a clone of some sort using only Mary’s DNA – but this could only make a female, not a male. No Y Chromosome in Mary. If a virgin gave birth to a son it was a truly miraculous conception. The DNA had to come from somewhere. Did God just produce a a unique set of chromosomes to join with Mary’s? Was it Joseph’s DNA? Some other descendant of David? Was this a divine artificial insemination?

How and can an intelligent, educated, experienced person believe in a virgin birth?

Dr. Polkinghorne gives his reasoning:

Luke, very explicitly in his story of the Annunciation (1.34-35), and Matthew, more obliquely (1.18), both assert the virginal conception of Jesus. Christian tradition has attached great significance to this, often rather inaccurately calling it the ‘virgin birth’. Yet in the New Testament it seems nowhere as widely significant as the Resurrection. Paul is content to simply lay stress on Jesus’ solidarity with humanity: ‘God sent his Son, born of woman, born under the law’ (Galatians 4.4). The theological importance of the virginal conception lies in its lending emphasis to the presence of a total divine initiative in the coming of Jesus, even if this truth is much more frequently expressed by the New Testament writers simply in the language of his having been sent. Jesus was not opportunistically co-opted for God’s purpose when he was found to be suitable, but he was part of that purpose from the start. The virginal conception is a powerful myth, and I believe that in the religion of the Incarnation the power of story fuses with the power of a true story, so that the great Christian myths are enacted myths. On this basis, I find myself able to believe in the virgin birth, even if the motivating evidence is less extensive than for the belief in the Resurrection. (p. 68-69, emphasis added)

Interaction not Intervention. One of the most important criteria for thinking through the incredible claims in scripture is God’s interaction with his creatures rather than his intervention in his creation. The miracles ring true when they enhance our understanding of the interaction of God with his people in divine self-revelation. The virginal conception is part of the Incarnation, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us”. The magnificent early Christian hymns quoted by Paul in Col 1.15-20 and Phil 2.6-11 catch the essence of this enacted myth as well.

It makes no sense to try to defend the virginal conception, the resurrection, or any of the other signs or miracles related in the New Testament, separate from the story of the Gospel, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus as God’s Messiah. In the context of God’s mission within his creation the miracles make sense and are truly miracles. Separate from this they will never make sense.

This is also a place where it is wise to avoid asking too many questions. Especially as there is no way these questions will ever find answers. I rather expect that the conception (insemination) was miraculous – but that a modern DNA test would have confirmed descent from the house and lineage of David in some manner. But this is really beside the point and unimportant. The point is the one that Dr. Polkinghorne emphasizes … Jesus was not opportunistically co-opted for God’s purpose but he was part of that purpose from the start. This was God’s plan and God’s doing.

What do you think? Do Dr. Polkinghorne’s reasons for believing in the virgin birth make sense?

What arguments are persuasive on this, or any other “difficult to believe” event?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net.

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(This is an edited repost, always appropriate this time of year. The links above are paid referrals – try this one if you prefer: Testing Scripture.)

By Kelly Edmiston

My middle son turns 5-years old this week. For his birthday he got a new scooter and on the first day he got it, we loaded up a back pack, put the baby in the stroller and we took the new scooter to the park. While he was riding it there his older brother asked if he could ride the new scooter home after we finished playing at the park. I said yes and explained to my 5-year old son that his older brother was going to ride the new scooter home. He agreed but when it was time to go home and time for his older brother to ride the new scooter, my 5-year old son did not want to give it up. I explained to him many times and in many ways that we have to share our toys, even our special ones, with our siblings. But that explanation did not help him, and he began to throw a big fit. Think loud wails and limbs flailing and crocodile tears, all dramatic gestures to show me his big feelings about this requirement. I felt his pain. This was his new toy after all. But I also felt his brother’s pain. His older brother didn’t have a new toy and having one turn on the new scooter did not seem unreasonable. So, I got down on the cement where he was flailing so I could meet him eye to eye. I tried to stay a safe distance away so as to not be hit by a flailing limb. And I whispered, with as much tenderness as I could muster, “Baby, I know this is hard. Can I love you through this?”

And this 5-year old fit and this question has me thinking about human suffering and the Incarnation. In the incarnation, God stoops down low, to meet us eye to eye, and to ask us, “Can I love you through this?”

Theologian Elizabeth Johnson writes these words in the “Quest for the Living God,”

“The Word became flesh so that God who is love could enter into a deep personal union with the world, the beloved. This would happen even if human beings had not sinned. The fact that the world is sinful entailed that the suffering and death of the cross become part of Jesus story. But the primary purpose was union in love.”

Think about that. Even if we had never sinned, God still would have come. The incarnation is God seeking union with humankind.

This is what love does. Love seeks union.

This is why I have been thinking about the incarnation and human suffering. I have been thinking about my own “fits” I have thrown with God. And I have wondered, what if the incarnation became the starting point for theodicy. Simply put, theodicy is what we call “the problem of evil.” The question of theodicy is: “Why would a loving God allow such immense human suffering?” But what if instead of asking, “Why would God allow suffering?” we asked “Why would God go through suffering?”

I think, like Johnson, that the answer is love. Love always seeks union.

In the incarnation, God symbolizes the perfect Mother and the perfect Father asking the beloved child, “Can I love you through this?” There is no measure of human suffering that God has not personally been subjected to. We approach a God who has been seeking union with humankind since the beginning of time. This provides a foundation on which to build a theology of suffering that does not exclude God’s love.

God is not the author of suffering as some preach. I heard recently a sermon preached from a prominent church in my area the heresy that “God will never give you more suffering than you can handle.”[1] This nonsense, complicit with “everything happens for a reason”, makes God a divine child abuser, sadistically orchestrating suffering toward us to teach us some sort of lesson. But the incarnation gives us a very different picture of God than this. In the incarnation, God stoops low enough to fit in a manger, a place where animals ate. In the incarnation, God comes face to face with a teenage mother out of wedlock and a young man estranged from his family. In the incarnation, God limits God’s self to time and space and flesh in order to have union with God’s beloved creation.

My 5-year old son did not collapse into my arms the way I was hoping he would. He actually ran off to get into trouble. He ended up having to go to time out and had a really hard time recovering from this fit. But no matter what he does, my invitation is always the same. My prayer is that, in this season, you will hear the God who has come near offering you the same invitation, “Can I love you through this?”

[1]This is a really good summary of the verse used to support this kind of thinking.  http://www.fairviewpresbyterian.org/blog/2017/7/24/half-truths-god-wont-give-you-more-than-you-can-handle