What Would Jesus Cut, Redux

Roger Pilon at Cato has some great work on the morality of the national debt and deficit spending:

WSJ article: Is It Immoral To Cut the Budget? (UPDATE: Corrected link–HT: Brian H.)

Cato Forum: The Moral Implications of Deficits, Debt, and the Budget Battles Ahead

Again, the problem I have with the Christian Left is that, with the best of intentions, they assume that gov’t can and will provide efficiently for the poor and elderly. But the money has to come from somewhere. It is actually more moral, Pilon contends, to move from gov’t action which is inherently coërcive, to voluntary action to help the poor. It is also immoral to leave future generations with the burden of debt which will cripple not only the private sector but the gov’t’s ability to provide social (and all other) services.

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Well, this is depressing

This article in The Nation is not encouraging to those of us pursuing higher education in the humanities:

A few years ago, when I was still teaching at Yale, I was approached by a student who was interested in going to graduate school. She had her eye on Columbia; did I know someone there she could talk with? I did, an old professor of mine. But when I wrote to arrange the introduction, he refused to even meet with her. “I won’t talk to students about graduate school anymore,” he explained. “Going to grad school’s a suicide mission.”

The policy may be extreme, but the feeling is universal. Most professors I know are willing to talk with students about pursuing a PhD, but their advice comes down to three words: don’t do it. (William Pannapacker, writing in the Chronicle of Higher Education as Thomas Benton, has been making this argument for years. See “The Big Lie About the ‘Life of the Mind,’” among other essays.) My own advice was never that categorical. Go if you feel that your happiness depends on it—it can be a great experience in many ways—but be aware of what you’re in for. You’re going to be in school for at least seven years, probably more like nine, and there’s a very good chance that you won’t get a job at the end of it.

This week, I feel disillusioned with academia, and inclined toward simply finishing off my MTh, pursuing ordination, and ministering the gospel in a church or church plant.

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Review: “Why Johnny Can’t Preach” (Part II)

I suppose the first part of my review of T. David Gordon’s Why Johnny Can’t Preach has turned into something more than just a review–I offered reflections on culture, my own experience, blah blah….But this is my blog, so that’s my prerogative. I hope I can be a little more interesting and helpful than most (*cough* brown-nosing *cough*) reviews you find in RBL or at Amazon.com.

In chapter three, “Johnny Can’t Write,” Gordon outlines the changes that our society has undergone since the invention of the telegraph and, soon after, the telephone. Along with the tremendous pluses of technological advancement have come the social costs. Gordon points out two problems this has created for discourse–preaching in particular. First, long-distance communication has dulled our ability to read non-verbal cues, since we speak on the phone or read e-mails. This was still a problem for written correspondence in times past, but now a much higher percentage of communication is not conducted in-person. For the act of preaching, this means that neither the preacher nor the congregants are skilled at non-verbal interaction with one another.

Second, because “talk is cheap” now, we overindulge–we have become a society of “telephone ramblers,” unable to speak or write concisely. We have less ability to focus on that which is significant, because we up to make up for our lack of discernment with sheer quantity of communication. I thought of an analogy: when we used to take pictures with a film-roll of 24 or 36 exposures, my mom was much more careful and artistic with the photos she chose to take. With a digital camera, we now take hundreds and thousands of careless photos, and usually a few turn out OK by chance–but there’s no longer an art to it.

Well, a preacher can’t afford to ramble for seven hours on a Sunday–he needs to be able to communicate concisely and clearly in the time allotted. I myself have a tendency to ramble in my teaching, which is much more conversational in style–which is why my limited preaching has thus far been from a manuscript. My words are more thoughtfully and carefully chosen (at least more than if I were simply working from an outline). Also, a manuscript gives me the freedom to speak extemporaneously if I choose, with the assurance that I have a place to return after my excursus.

Gordon concludes this chapter:

Our seminary curricula are largely identical to what they were around the First World War, but the entering seminarian is a profoundly different person than was the seminarian of the early twentieth century. Then, the individual was well-read in poetry, and had studied nearly a decade of classical language (Latin, Greek, or both), learning by reading poetry and ancient languages to read texts carefully. He had written compositions almost weekly in many of his academic classes, and often wrote letters to friends and family. In contrast, the entering seminarian today has the faculties of a sixth- to eighth-grader sixty years ago, and the seminary curriculum cannot make this seminarian an adult by the time he graduates. (68)

Gordon is certainly correct–all you need to do if you don’t believe him is read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little Town on the Prairie and the subsequent books in the series: what she had to learn in high-school by age 16 is more than I learned in college. I wonder whether economic advances have changed the sort of students that choose seminary education. Perhaps in 1820 or 1920, pastoral ministry was one of the best professional options for intelligent and educated young men, just as teaching was the only profession open to women. After the industrial and tech revolutions of the last 60 years, smart men have a much wider range of professional options now, so the best and brightest no longer choose ministry–just as WWII and the women’s-rights movement opened up other professions to women and made the teaching profession suffer.

In his fourth chapter, “A Few Thoughts About Content,” Gordon offers some prescriptive ideas to improve preaching. Acknowledging his Reformed context and the different opinions about the content of preaching (e.g., “Christ-centered,” redemptive-historical), he offers instead four failures of content in evangelical preaching:

  1. Moralism — The great failure of Liberal Protestantism. Gordon remarks that “conservative moralism” today is really no different from the liberalism of the past, “liberal” referring in the previous era to an approach to the gospel rather than to a loose moral ethic.
  2. How-To — Like moralism, it “pushes the person and work of the redeeming Christ out of the realm of the hearer’s consideration” (82).
  3. Introspection — Sermons in this vein could all be subtitled, “I Know You Think You Are a Christian, but You Are Not,” terrorizing the believer’s conscience.
  4. Social Gospel/So-Called Culture War

“None of these false surrogates for real Christian proclamation,” Gordon writes, “nourishes the soul” (88). Gordon’s hope is that a return to careful reading of NT texts will lead to true Christian preaching rather than these four substitutes. He concludes, “Johnny could preach, though he does so rarely now. Johnny is still made in God’s image, and has latent sensibilities that can be cultivated in such a manner as to make him a competent preacher, even though our culture does not cultivate those sensibilities in its ordinary course of events.” In other works, we have to try harder to make up for what our culture has robbed from us and our congregations.

Gordon argues in his final chapter that the best way to improve preaching is not simply further training in homiletics, or books on the subject. The proper cure is the “cultivation of those pre-homiletical sensibilities that are necessary to preach well” (96): reading and writing. He encourages those entering college with an eye toward ministry to major in English literature or classics, rather than in Religion, in preparation for seminary.

Furthermore, churches can support their pastors and young ministerial aspirants in this endeavor. They churches should provide (and pastors should welcome) annual reviews through the elders, so that the pastor can receive both negative and positive feedback; also, they should carefully delimit the pastor’s responsibilities so as to allow him adequate time to read, write and prepare for his sermons. Another gem:

Churches cannot continue to exact such a toll from their ministers while expecting them to preach well, because preaching well requires more than preparing sermons; it requires preparing oneself as the kind of human who has the sensibilities prerequisite to preaching. (107)

When I began Gordon’s book, I was determined not to return to my hypercritical days in college and seminary, when I left church every Sunday feeling frustrated that something–the sermon, the music, the prayer–had not lived up to my arrogantly-conceived standard of perfection. I wonder whether he pushes his point a little too far, paints the situation as overly dire–but every author has to have a little urgency in order to convince his readers to continue reading.

Some parts of the book gave me pause. For example, Gorden recounts his confrontation of the ruling elder who hired a pastor who couldn’t preach and responded, “David, of course he can’t preach; but I’ve served on pulpit committees off and on for thirty hears, and nobody can preach. We just look for men who are gifted in other areas, and who are orthodox, but we accept from the outset of the search that we are not likely to find a person who can preach” (21). For someone like me who is fairly gifted in the areas of teaching and administration but struggles with the shepherding and compassion gifts, I consider pastors who don’t preach well but love their people well as having qualities to which I aspire. I know Gordon is not trying to minimize the other gifts. But honestly, the formative pastoral interactions in my personal and spiritual life have not occurred during a sermon; i.e., I don’t remember what they said, but what they did. All that to say: preaching ain’t everything.

But the point of this book is to sound the alarm about preaching, and provide something of a solution. It does that well. I wonder whether congregants should read this book, or just elders. Giving it to your pastor would have to be done very carefully and sensitively. Someone who has given 400 bad sermons over ten years probably knows he’s a bad preacher, and he needs encouragement, love and respect. But he also needs help, and this book has a lot of help to offer.

Congregants can also cultivate those sensibilities that make careful and attentive listeners. Also, the internet is a wonderful source for preaching and teaching in audio or video format. Keller, Ryken and Driscoll are a few of my faves. Quite a few seminaries, including Fuller, Reformed, Covenant and Westminster, have much or all of their class audio on the web for free. If you have a pastor who is gifted in other areas but is–shall we say delicately–“homiletically challenged,” you can love and appreciate him but also enjoy soul-nourishing preaching from some truly fine preachers through other venues.

Overall, I appreciated Gordon’s book, and I will strive to apply his wisdom in my teaching and preaching.

Why Johnny Can’t Preach: The Media Have Shaped the Messengers, by T. David Gordon
ISBN: 9781596381162
Paperback, 112 pages
P&R Publishing, 2009
$9.99 on Amazon.com

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Review: “Why Johnny Can’t Preach” (Part I)

It’s been a while since I’ve done an honest-to-goodness book review on this site. Part of the problem is that I’ve been too busy with anything other than school and teaching to read much of consequence that does not relate to those two ends. Perhaps at some point I will polish up a few of the reviews I did for my oral exams, since some of those books would be quite interesting, at least to some.

But as I settle into the thesis stage of my MTh, I’ve resolved to keep reading outside my narrow domain of the Persian period reception of Lamentations, and consume a steady diet of New Testament studies (thus my recent quotation of Ben F. Meyer), philosophy of history (Ricoeur), political philosophy, my beloved hobby of economics, and even a little sociology (I’ve been reading articles about “Fat Studies”–Google it).

I also read a short book this week entitled, Why Johnny Can’t Preach: The Media Have Shaped the Messengers, by T. David Gordon (Phillipsburg, N.J.: P&R Publishing, 2009). Dr. Gordon teaches Greek and “media ecology” at Grove City College (formerly at Gordon-Conwell) and is ordained in the PCA. I heard him speak about this book on the Reformed Forum a little while ago. As a novice preacher pursuing ordination to gospel ministry, as well as an academic studying the reception and liturgical use of a book of Scripture, I was eager to see what Gordon says about preaching and what can be done to improve it.

Gordon’s introduction explains his purpose and tone. This book was substantially completed in 2004 while he was undergoing aggressive treatment for a stage-III cancer, from which he has since recovered (thank God), but at that time he urgently wanted to pass on a career’s worth of academic and ministerial wisdom. His goal is to convince his audience 1) that preaching in evangelical churches is very bad; 2) that the reasons for the dismal homiletical state of the church are the changes in technology, education and media of the past half-century; and 3) that something can be done about it.

Chapter one, “Johnny Can’t Preach,” makes his first point: preaching today is bad, and most Christians don’t realize it. Gordon displays his own rhetorical skill with such dramatic statements as: “As starving children in Manila sift through the landfill for food, Christians in many churches today have never experienced genuinely soul-nourishing preaching, and so they just pick away at what is available to them, trying to find a morsel of spritual sustenance or helpful counsel here or there” (17). Gordon’s (Protestant) conviction is that the congregant is bound by conscience to the Word of God, and so s/he is only bound to heed the preacher to the extent that the preacher expounds the Word of God–any other sermon is “religiously useless.” Most sermons, he asserts, either have no discernable point or have a point that is not demonstrably from the text of Scripture.

Gordon relies in this chapter on Robert Lewis Dabney’s seven “cardinal requisites” as expounded in Lectures on Sacred Rhetoric (1870; republished in 1979 by Banner of Truth). He argues that most sermons lack most of these essential attributes:

  1. Textual fidelity
  2. Unity
  3. Evangelical tone (“Does the sermon press the hearer to consider the hopelessness of his condition apart from Christ, and the utter competence of Christ to rescue the penitent sinner?”)
  4. Instructiveness
  5. Movement (“Do the earlier parts of the sermon contribute to the latter parts’ full effect?”)
  6. Point (impact)
  7. Order/Organization

The push in some churches for shorter sermons, or the use of media (PowerPoint, videos, movies) in sermons, he asserts, is really a symptom of the larger problem: preachers today can’t communicate effectively. The problem, Gordon argues, is the increasing aliteracy of the culture–hence the book’s title following the famous publications, Why Johnny Can’t Read (1986) and Why Johnny Can’t Write (1990). We don’t read or write texts anymore, and thus preachers cannot exposit texts or give coherent speeches. Because we can communicate so quickly via cell phones, texts, e-mails and IMs (let alone Facebook, which exploded soon after the writing of this book), we no longer read or compose discourses–everything is communicated through ten-second soundbites, Tweets and short comments. Also, communication is largely image-based; if “a picture is worth a thousand words,” why not just use images? Anyone who attends the presidential debates, or compares newspaper articles from the 1910s to those of today’s paper, or watches a half-hour sitcom, will have to agree with Gordon’s take on media (who echoes his influences: McLuhan, Ong, Ellul and Postman).

We have therefore, as Gordon argues in chapter two, lost the ability to read literature for its own sake. Our preachers, let alone our congregants, no longer read significant texts, prose or poetry. The biblical texts, rather than functioning as literary works that engage our minds and hearts and shape our thinking, have become merely “use[d] as mnemonic devices to recall what [we] already know” (49-50). Gordon points out that reading texts (particularly poetry) for its own sake “cultivates the sensibility of significance” (51). We learn to appreciate the gravity of God’s Word expressed in dense, thoughtful human words. “Mundaneness is, I believe, part of the curse of Genesis 3….Verse is a common-grace gift that enables us, through the fog of images and sounds, to again see ourselves and others as bearers of the image of God” (52).

Television, he argues, is rarely able to depict the realities of a fallen world and God’s grace, and “is at its best with the superficial and trivial” (53). This rang true for me: my frustration with TV drama is its serial nature which does not easily admit a narrative ending. Last year, I deliberately stopped watching one of my favorite shows, because I liked the way some of the story-arcs had ended, and didn’t really care about the cliffhangers that were left at the end of the season. I chose to end the story where I wanted to end it, and it bothers me (slightly) that it’s still on. The other shows I like are largely satirical takes on pop culture, which is sort of sad that the best pop culture can do when it comes to “significance” is to lampoon its own triviality.

(To be continued…)

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Meyer on history

Ben F. Meyer, The Aims of Jesus. San Jose: Pickwick Publications, 2002 (first edition 1979).

History is the asking and the answering of certain kinds of questions. To consider first the asking of a question: ‘Who murdered Dunaway?’ supposes as known that Dunaway is dead; that his death was neither natural nor accidental; that somebody murdered him. The unknown is the identity of the somebody. Here the knowns have been selected out of a reservoir of knowns concerning the death of Dunaway, and selected with the precise purpose of specifying the unknown to be known. The same is true of every deliberately formulated question. These knowns are selected to specify this unknown, and this unknown is fastened on for the sake of some yield, some gain, envisaged in the conversion of the unknown into a known. The key to the selection of the unknown to be known–the key, therefore to the whole enterprise–is purpose. Purpose may be of any kind, and in the history of inquiry bearing on the historical Jesus it has widely varied. For Reimarus, the purpose was to commend the religion of reason and to discredit that of revelation; for Strauss, to translate Christianity into Hegelian wisdom; for the post-Bultmannian ‘new quest,’ to reintroduce Jesus into theology as more than a merely factual presupposition. Relative to the asking of historical questions, all such purposes are presuppositions. (p. 14)

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Ding, Dong?

Bin Laden is dead–and we have killed him.

The news is very fresh, and the world is still reäcting to the initial shock. Some are happy, others are angry. As a native of North Jersey who saw the WTC towers the morning they went down and knew people who lost loved ones on September 11, I remember that day well–and some memories have come rushing back.

This excellent sermon came to mind when I heard the news.

How does God feel about Osama bin Laden’s death?

As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel? (Ezekiel 33:11)

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Preaching Sunday evening in NJ

Over the past seven months I have had the honor of serving Preakness Valley United Reformed Church in Wayne, NJ as semi-regular pulpit supply.  These dear brothers and sisters have been without a pastor for over a year now.  I hurt for them in this difficult time, but I very much enjoy my visits to PVURC. I hope that I will still be able to visit occasionally, even after God blesses them with a permanent shepherd.

This Sunday evening, I’ll be preaching from Isaiah 5: “Where’s the Fruit?”  If you are in north Jersey that evening and would like to stop by between 6-7pm, it would be great to see you at the service.  I’ve given an excerpt of my sermon below, and the full audio will be posted here sometime next week, d.v.

[Isaiah] begins with a metaphor: a vineyard, planted and cultivated with care and patience.  I visited the heart of wine-country in South Africa about a month ago—beautiful, beautiful countryside—and if you’ve ever been in a vineyard, you know how much care must be taken with the vines in order for them to produce both quantity and quality.  The ground has to be plowed and fertilized.  The vines need to be kept off the ground, watered, and pruned, for there to be any hope of a good harvest.  Fences must be built to keep out trespassers, thieves and animals.  Vineyards, and agriculture in general, take a lot of work up front, and of course a lot of faith that the rain, the ground and the sun will produce the desired result: perhaps a smooth, full-bodied wine.

So, we can feel the vinedresser’s frustration when he receives no usable yield for all his back-breaking labor.  Metaphor has this wonderful ability to distance us from a situation, and illumining to us our own failures.  In 2 Samuel 12, the prophet Nathan told a parable so persuasively that King David convicted himself of adultery and murder.  Here, Isaiah’s audience feels a twinge of indignance toward the vineyard—before realizing that they themselves are the vineyard.

UPDATE: Audio is now posted here.

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Diversity: An old, old wooden ship from the Civil-War era?

Can diversity be taken too far?

I’ve recently felt myself becoming more comfortable with diversity in my study of the Old Testament. In the theological realm, for example, I’ve been appreciating the tension between different perspectives on evil and the justice of God (e.g., Job, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations). In the historical realm, I’ve found different visions of postexilic restoration, in preëxilic, exilic and postexilic literature–for example, the ethnically exclusive vision of Ezr-Neh in contrast to the inclusive vision of Isa 56 and Zec 14.

I think I’ve found more room in my OT theology for diversity because I’ve become more reliant on the NT to tie all the OT’s loose ends together. If you conceive of Jesus as having fulfilled OT prophecies in a sort of direct, one-to-one correspondence, you can’t have as much diversity in the OT because different eschatological visions mean conflicting messianic roles for Jesus to fulfill. But the NT authors are looking retrospectively at eschatological events that the OT saints could never have imagined so vividly–and they see that Jesus was the true fulfillment of everything for which the OT saints hoped and described as through stained glass.

However, I think some folks hyper-fragment the OT, pitting the different perspectives against one another, while failing to see the unity in the OT. Advocacy readings of the OT, in the quest to be heard alongside traditional perspectives, have shouted down those who advocate unity.

Can’t we do both? Do Christian theologians rely too heavily on the NT to make a cohesive, redemptive-historical whole out of OT Scripture, or is this what the NT is supposed to do?

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Travelogue II: Escape to the Dark Continent

On Thursday, March 31, I departed around 8am from Philadelphia, bound for Stellenbosch, Western Cape, South Africa. I flew Delta to their hub in Minneapolis; then KLM overnight to Amsterdam; and finally, the 12-hour, 6,000-mile flight the length of Africa to Cape Town, arriving about 10pm on Friday evening.

This was my fourth time “hopping the Pond” overnight from the US to Europe, and it never gets any easier. At 6’3″ (190.5cm for you metric folks out there), trying to sleep in the economy seats on a plane is always a losing proposition for me. I’ve tried every position: pillow behind my lower back, pillow under my thighs, leaning back, leaning sideways, slumped over forward–no luck. Even two glasses of wine with dinner couldn’t do the trick. I figured I’d be better off reading as long as I could, and then watching movies to pass the eight hours.

Flying a total of forty hours to Cape Town and back, I watched quite a few movies and TV shows–too many to count. I can only read for so long before my neck starts to hurt, or I get too tired to concentrate. Here’s a brief account of some movies I watched–some of which I’m not very proud of, but hopefully my mistakes can be your wisdom:

  • The American — A bland action film starring George Clooney as an American assassin in Europe.  He hides out in Italy while on a job, and falls in love with a prostitute.  Boring, but mercifully short.  Don’t bother.
  • Red — An action comedy with Bruce Willis, John Malkovich, Helen Mirren and Morgan Freeman.  Not the best movie ever by a long shot, but a fun date-night rental.
  • Black Swan — I figured I’d give it a shot because it won all those awards, and I like Natalie Portman.  Hyperdramatic, strange–sexualized in puzzling ways.  Full of flat characters; Portman’s is the only one that develops–if going mad can be considered a development.  I didn’t find it that interesting–certainly not worth the drug and sexual content.
  • Little Fockers — The threequal to Meet the Parents.  Full of awkward moments that are hilarious to some and just painful to others.  As much as I like Stiller and De Niro, this one’s probably not worth watching.
  • The Fighter — A classic sports-hero-comes-from-working-class-background-and-defeats-the-odds-achieving-pinacle-of-success movie–but so much more than that.  This movie is about family relationships and tough love.  I love Amy Adams.  Definitely recommended, but the R-rating for language and drugs is well-deserved.
  • The Tourist — I figured it out within 20 minutes.  Canned plot; some funny moments, but mostly just a star-driven box-office draw attempt.  Whatevs.
  • Easy A — Not just another teen sex-comedy–though, unfortunately, the plot revolves around the main character’s falsified sexual CV.  There actually a lot of truth here about the gravity of sex, the importance of a good reputation, and the double-standard that exists in our culture for women’s and men’s sexuality.  Probably good to watch if you’re in youth ministry, or with a thinking teen or young person.  But the vulgarity undercuts the film’s attempt to elevate sex as something to be treasured and taken seriously.
  • The Killing Room — A minimalistically produced, bottle-episode thriller.  Brutal, exciting and unpredictable.  It probably had the chance to say something profound, but I don’t think it really did–then again, I was so tired at this point that I may have missed it.

But I digest…
 
Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam was one of the more interesting airports I’ve been through.  It is designed particularly well for layovers, since it handles so much traffic as a hub in Europe.  There is a rest area in the center section, with couches and laptop stations (and an hour of free WiFi!).  Among all the shops where you can purchase typically Dutch products at hefty markup prices, there is a small mini-museum featuring paintings of lesser-known Dutch masters.  As a fan of 17th-century Dutch paintings, I found this little display a welcome diversion, a chance to walk around and enjoy a few high-brow intellectual moments after many tired hours of watching inane films in a cramped aluminum tube.  There were no Van Goghs or Vermeers, but beautiful nonetheless.  Schiphol also offers the free use of small handcarts, which are found in clusters all around the terminals.  In American airports you typically pay to use a cart, but these are free and everywhere.  There were little barriers that would prevent the carts from being taken outside or on escalators, but other than that you could take them anywhere, leave them anywhere, and find another one just about anywhere–delightful.
 
The flight-tracker on the Amsterdam-Cape Town flight took us over quite a few countries in Africa: Tunisia, Algeria, Libya, Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, Gabon, Republic of Congo, Democratic Republic of the Congo (Zaire), Angola, and Namibia.  It made me think about the little I know of current events in those countries–Libya being most prominently in the news at that time.  A graduate seminar on colonialism at Stellenbosch the next week made me think about the condescension many Westerners (like me) express toward Africans in thinking that we can be the solution to their problems.  Even the term “Africa” is a Latin word applied collectively to a land mass of 11,700,000 mi² that is home to a billion people from thousands of different ethnic groups which have little or nothing in common with one another.
 
I arrived in Cape Town that evening, went through customs, and had to pay a R110 (about $15) tariff on CDs I would mail for my friend, Gordon, to friends on his behalf.  Protectionist neanderthals…  I successfully figured out how to use a pay phone to call Gordon’s friend, Craig, a young, local pastor whom I had never met but who graciously agreed to pick me up and let me crash at his place.  After some confusion about the pickup location, we found each other at the airport.  When we got to his home, I showered and then crashed hard, grateful after thirty-six hours without sleep.
 
Next installment: Cape Town to Stellenbosch.

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Travelogue I: Winsome, Wooded Wisconsin

I realize that my bloggage output has been somewhat lethargic lately. Travels have kept me quite busy in the last month, and I hope to reward your attention with some mildly interesting accounts of my excursions to Minnesota, Wisconsin, Amsterdam and South Africa.

Part I: Wisconsin

The week of March 19-26 I taught New Testament at PBU’s Wisconsin Wilderness Campus (WWC). WWC is a freshman-year, modular program; visiting instructors teach one credit-hour’s worth in a week (typically 14-15 hours of instruction). Some of the instructors come from PBU’s main campus, and some are outside instructors from other institutions.

I had the privilege of teaching Module 3 of The Pentateuch in October, which covered Numbers and Deuteronomy. This time, I was in much more sketchily-charted waters for an OT graduate student: the Corinthian, Prison and Pastoral Epistles of Paul.

Some may find it puzzling that PBU’s School of Bible and Ministry does not have distinct OT, NT and ST/HT departments, but I have always found this to be a strength. Of course, each professor typically teaches within a specialty, but the cross-pollination between the disciplines produces a wonderful collegiality and cohesiveness within the curriculum.

I must say: the challenge of preparing a course in the NT for undergraduates, while immersed in preparations for graduate exams in OT criticism and Philosophy of History, was very fruitful for me spiritually, personally and academically. Teaching undergrads has “kept it real” for me during this year of transition out of the conservative PBU/WTS bubble into a more progressive, Reformed university context at Stellenbosch (more on that later).

But how do you teach nine books of the NT in fourteen hours? Very carefully and selectively, as it turns out. The students had already studied Gospels, Acts, Romans and Galatians, so they had some Pauline context. I was able to give them my own interpretation of the NPP and a broad survey of some recent developments as best I could. We then dove right in to the texts. I tried to provide a survey of the context, themes and message of each book, and then examine a key chapter here, an important doctrine there. I tried to stay away from passages that could more easily be addressed in a Bible-study or sermon context, and to focus on passages that are difficult to exposit outside of a sustained, academic treatment.

One of the blessings of this trip was that Corrie and Daniel came along with me. Daniel has traveled more in his first year of life than some folks do in five years, and he is a little trooper on planes. Corrie was concerned that she might not have enough to do, but had always wanted to visit WWC since so many of our fellow students had enjoyed the program.

I was especially glad to have them along when I took ill on Tuesday night. I didn’t feel too great when I went to bed, but then I woke up with nausea and–well, other things. The flu hit me hardest Wednesday and Thursday; I could barely sit up, didn’t eat anything, ached all over, and just tried to stay hydrated. It was brutal. The students and staff were very flexible and reärranged the school-days for me so I could teach in the afternoons with some more rest. Corrie was wonderful; she nursed me back to health, brought me medication and little morsels of food, and even taught one class period for me (one of the benefits of having a wife with degrees in education and biblical studies!).

By Friday morning, thankfully, I was healthy enough to go to breakfast and adminster the exam. But I had fallen behind on my prep and grading, so the last day was not nearly as profitable as I had hoped. I apologized profusely to the students and staff, and of course everyone understood and was very supportive. Being ill–really sick, on my back, without any cure except waiting–does two things: it makes me appreciate good health, and it forces me to trust God.

I wonder whether the students will long remember most of the facts I taught that week (I hope something stuck, of course!), but the week was overshadowed by some other difficult circumstances at the camp. But I was encouraged by the depth of the students’ character and faith amidst the tumult, and I hope that they were able to see Christ in me, Corrie and the staff. I don’t really remember any “facts” I learned my freshman year; what I do remember is professors, teachers, friends–relationships that affected me deeply. I hope the relationships begun at WWC this year will bless the students and staff as much as they bless me.

Instead of flying back to PA on Friday as instructors typically do, WWC had booked me and Corrie a hotel in Minneapolis for Friday night since Saturday flights were significantly cheaper. We made the 3.5-hour drive from Cable, WI to the Twin Cities, checked in, and then made our first visit to the Mall of America, which I believe is the country’s largest mall (depending on the criteria). It’s huge, man–what a spectacle. It’s got a theme park in the middle of the mall that is visible from all the stores, and four or five floors worth of mallage. We went to a noodle restaurant–about all my stomach could handle–and then walked around a little and went back to the hotel, just to say we had been there.

We nearly missed our 7:20 flight the next morning, but made it home without other incident–tired and still somewhat ill, but satisfied. I gained some valuable teaching experience, but more importantly, shared experiences with and tremendous respect for my wife–a true אֵשֶׁת-חַיִל.

I was also a little panicked about the study-hours lost to sickness in preparation for my trip to Stellenbosch for oral exams. My departure on Thursday, March 31 and my arrival in Cape Town on April 1 will be the subject of my next post.

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