This is the melancholy of Gethsemane: the realization that the road ahead to God lies through moments of despondency, “accompanied” by people too tired themselves even to stay awake while you cry out in frustration.
How might we make use of spiritual exegesis and the “fourfold sense” in our proclamation of the Bible’s strange new world?
This Christmas, pull on your boots, tie up your laces, grab your hat, and start walking. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.
Rather than acting as a signpost to the strange new world of Scripture, the sermon all-too-often obstructs our view of the Bible’s terrain. We have lost sight of the strange; our pews remain fixed in the familiar.
Those who care deeply about the fate of the planet would do worse than to take Tolkien’s Elves as their model, building communities marked by artistry, craftsmanship, husbandry, wisdom, and delight. This will involve equal parts remembering, stability, humility, and self-denial.
We citizens of Technopolis believe fervently in the supremacy of the will. What we will is how things are. Nothing is chiseled into sacred tablets, nothing has any meaning that we can’t change, nothing is beyond our self-interested exploitation and tinkering. If by an act of collective will we deem something good, then it must be good simply because we’ve deemed it so.
Love Makes No Sense is in many ways a panegyric to the oddity of Christian faith and practice.
I came across an Easter sermon by Lancelot Andrewes in which he meditates on the appearance of the risen Jesus to Mary Magdalene as a gardener.