Heavenly Ascents » Christian

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas: Epiphany

David Larsen — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 17:16:17 +0000

I think some of us Western “low church” Christians (speaking for myself, at least) have always wondered what the “twelve days” of Christmas were all about. I admit that I used to think it must be referring to the twelve days leading up to Christmas. Well, lo, and behold, it is actually the twelve days starting with Christmas! Who wudda thunk that it was the twelve days after Christmas? Well, what are we counting up to if Christmas is only the first day?! The twelfth day of Christmas is a very important day for many of the more traditional Orthodox Christian faiths — it is the day that marks the Feast of Epiphany, or “Appearance.”

Epiphany, which is traditionally celebrated on January 6 (or the Sunday closest to it), commemorates, with some variations, the visitation of the Magi to the baby Jesus and his recognition as King, which constitutes his appearance/manifestation to the Gentiles. Furthermore, Eastern Christians celebrate on this day the baptism of Jesus, which was his manifestation (Theophany) as the Son of God.

Some early Christians celebrated three important events on January 6th — Christ’s birth, his baptism, and the marriage at Cana (four events, if you include the visit of the Wise Men). I find it very interesting that these events were all celebrated conjointly on the one holy day — baptism, birth, acclamation as king, and marriage. (On this topic, see also my notes from Dr Laurence Hemming’s presentation at SBL here (you have to scroll down), where he connects the 40 days between Christmas and Candlemas (Feb. 2) with the 40-day post-Resurrection ministry of Christ).

While Epiphany marks the end of the Christmas season for many people (many take down their Christmas decorations today), it should also mark a beginning. It celebrates the appearance, the Theophany, the “shining forth” of the Son of God in the world — the manifestation of God’s love for his children here on Earth. Although many of us, who are, alas, not so connected to ancient tradition, generally let this day go by without any special notice, the Epiphany of our Lord Jesus Christ is certainly a concept worth celebrating!

Recent Blog Posts on Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha

David Larsen — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 13:14:37 +0000

Just wanted to alert you to a couple of interesting blog posts that I recently read on the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha.

Tony Burke at Apocryphicity shared the following regarding why he chose to study the Christian Apocrypha:

Why am I such an advocate for the Christian Apocrypha? Have I been “burned…by orthodox Christianity” as Ben Witherington suggests (in The Gospel Code: Novel Claims About Jesus, Mary Magdalene and Da Vinci [Downers Grove, Ill: InterVarsity Press, 2004], p. 172-174, and What Have They Done With Jesus? Beyond Strange Theories and Bad History—Why We Can Trust the Bible [San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2006], p. 4-5)? Am I trying to prove I am a “good critical scholar” by “discrediting” the New Testament? Or have I been “misled…by the powers of darkness”? I hope the answer to all of these questions is no. But the answer is connected to faith—or more rightly, a reaction to a faith once held.

[...]

My views on censorship have led me also to become an advocate for apocryphal texts. This is literature that Christian orthodoxy did not, and indeed still does not, want us to read. We can debate the validity of this position—the process of selecting a canon of sacred texts is a common phenomenon and is, in some ways, necessary for the survival of the faith—but part of me still thinks it wrong. Texts should be available to all, ideas should flow freely, and to censor them is nothing but cowardice. This is particularly so today. For the church to censor texts in the fourth century, and many centuries thereafter, may be understandable given the times, but for Christian groups and Christian writers to advocate doing so now is unconscionable. Of course, in an age of the free flow of information, censoring the texts is no longer an option, but actively discouraging others from reading literature, sometimes by distorting their contents to instill fear in the potential reader, is just as insidious.

[...]

You can read the full post here. I don’t agree with all of Tony’s remarks; for example, I would take issue with his opinion that the Apocalypse of John is not the result of a vision (in agreement with Jim Davila’s comment).

I think that the Apocrypha is an important body of literature, as it gives us insights into the beliefs and practices of early Jews and Christians that we often don’t find so clearly in the canonical texts.

See also Tony Burke’s More Christian Apocrypha page, which lists a number of apocryphal texts that you probably have never even heard of (I hadn’t).

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For a day-by-day plan for reading all of James Charlesworth’s The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (2 vols.), and why you would want to do so, check out “The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha Calendar-in-a-Year” at Joseph Kelly’s blog, כל–האדם

Jim Davila recommends reading these volumes this year before the release of his “More Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” soon afterwards.

N.T. Wright on C.S. Lewis as a Theologian

David Larsen — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 12:13:23 +0000

My curiosity regarding the opinion of other Christian theologians on C.S. Lewis’ quality as a theologian was piqued when a theology professor of mine at Marquette University declared in no uncertain terms that Lewis was not a “real” theologian. This was after I had announced, after being put on the spot at the beginning of my program there to answer who was my favorite theologian, that I really liked C.S. Lewis. I had chosen Lewis because I really did like him, but probably also because I just wasn’t really familiar, at the time, with any other mainstream Christian theologian. But it was made clear to me that Lewis was not highly considered by many theologians today.

I found this sentiment to be somewhat disheartening considering the high esteem Lewis is given in the LDS Church. One of the reasons I knew him when I didn’t know other theologians (besides having read some of his works) is because he is quoted from quite frequently and is greatly respected by many leaders of the LDS Church. This is likely because we can agree with many statements that he made concerning the nature of Christianity that other Christians find, well, rather dodgy (to utilize a very useful British expression). For example, some are rather surprised or even offended by such statements as these:

He said (in the Bible) that we were ‘gods’ and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him – for we can prevent Him, if we choose – He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful; but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said. C. S. Lewis, Beyond Personality (London: The Centenary Press, 1945), 48

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship. C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory (Eerdmans, 1949), 14-15

While some would say that Lewis goes too far here with this theme, Mormons welcome these arguments with open arms! Despite this lengthy introduction, however, my purpose with this post is not to expound on why Mormons like Lewis while some other Christians don’t. My purpose is simply to share with you the recent opinion of one well-known Christian theologian, N.T. (Tom) Wright, the Anglican Bishop of Durham, England, who has recently returned to the Academy to take up a post at the University of St Andrews as Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity. As posted on the website www.touchstonemag.com, Professor Wright gives a fair and even-handed review of Lewis’s works, expounding on his great strengths as a theologian as well as his weaknesses. I think this is a great piece for anyone interested in Lewis and his theology to read, including Latter-day Saints. I am not saying with this that I agree with everything that Bishop Wright says here (for example, his repeated accusation that Lewis was too much of a Platonist), because I don’t. But I do find him fair, professional, and insightful in his treatment. If nothing else, this article will give you an idea of what a leading Christian theologian thinks of our esteemed C.S. Lewis. Enjoy!

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Simply Lewis

Reflections on a Master Apologist After 60 Years

by N. T. Wright

I once found myself working closely, in a cathedral fundraising campaign, with a local millionaire. He was a self-made man. When I met him he was in his 60s, at the top of his game as a businessman, and was chairing our Board of Trustees. To me, coming from the academic world, he was a nightmare to work with.

He never thought in (what seemed to me) straight lines; he would leap from one conversation to another; he would suddenly break into a discussion and ask what seemed a totally unrelated question. But after a while I learned to say to myself: Well, it must work, or he wouldn’t be where he is. And that was right. We raised the money. We probably wouldn’t have done it if I’d been running the Trust my own way.

A Great Debt

I have something of the same feeling on re-reading C. S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity. I owe Lewis a great debt. In my late teens and early twenties I read everything of his I could get my hands on, and read some of his paperbacks and essays several times over. There are sentences, and some whole passages, I know pretty much by heart.

Millions around the world have been introduced to, and nurtured within, the Christian faith through his work where their own preachers and teachers were not giving them what they needed. That was certainly true of me.

My Oxford tutors looked down their noses if you so much as mentioned him in a tutorial. This was, we may suppose, mere jealousy: He sold and they didn’t. It may also have been the frustration of the professional who, busy about his footnotes, sees the amateur effortlessly sailing past to the winning post.

And partly it may have been the sense that the Christianity offered by Lewis both was and wasn’t the “mere” thing he made it out to be. There is a definite spin to it. One of the puzzles, indeed, is the way in which Lewis has been lionized by Evangelicals when he clearly didn’t believe in several classic Evangelical shibboleths. He was wary of penal substitution, not bothered by infallibility or inerrancy, and decidedly dodgy on justification by faith (though who am I to talk, considering what some in America say about me?).

But above all, like my businessman friend, it worked; a lot of people have become Christians through reading Lewis and, though, like me, they may have gone on to think things through in ways he didn’t, they retain, like me, a massive and glorious indebtedness. All that now follows stands under that rubric.

A Real Humility

Part of the reason for the appeal of Mere Christianity is of course that—like virtually everything Lewis wrote—it remains a splendid read. Lewis is feisty and lyrical, funny and moving, full of brilliant images, similes, and extended metaphors.

Even when they don’t work as well as they might (he regularly uses maths, or “sums” as he calls it, as an illustration, and I found myself wondering whether theology and maths are really the same sort of thing), they take our minds darting to and fro, leaping over hedges and ditches, constantly glimpsing the countryside from new angles and with the fresh air of intelligent argument in our lungs.

Reading someone like this, you want to believe him—a dangerous position, perhaps. He takes us, as it were, into his confidence, drawing us aside gently by the arm and whispering, “You and I aren’t concerned with things like that. . . .” We are flattered to be his companions on the way, to know (because he tells us) that this isn’t simply a “religious jaw” (remarkable how dated that language sounds, and yet how easily today’s reader skips over it) and that we who think like this are actually in the know while some—including some clergy, because Lewis isn’t above a quick jibe in that direction—are missing out.

And when he tells us that we shouldn’t be taken in by “soft soap,” or that we can “cut all that out,” we find it exciting, like the piano pupil whose teacher tells her it’s time to graduate from blues to Bach (or conceivably, as one hearer of this paper suggested, the other way around). Now, we feel, we’re growing up, we’re getting to the real thing.

There’s a good reason why we allow Lewis to lead us on. There is a real, not a pretend, humility about his “only-a-simple-layman” stance. For some of the time, as I shall suggest, he is a professional pretending to be an amateur; for much of the time, he’s a gifted amateur putting some of the professionals to shame; sometimes he’s an amateur straightforwardly getting things wrong (and note what he says about paying attention to Freud when he’s on his professional topic but not when he’s writing as an amateur!).

But he constantly says, “If this doesn’t help, go on to the next bit, which may,” and he seems really to mean it. In particular, when he’s talking about the struggles and strains of trying to live as a Christian, we know we are listening to someone who has been struggling and straining.

This isn’t theory; like The Screwtape Letters and similar works, this is a direct report from the Front Line. (While we’re on that subject, I don’t myself find the frequent references to the Second World War intrusive or off-putting. You would have to be quite an extreme pacifist to object to the regular military imagery, which, quite apart from its immediate appeal to his first audience, does have quite strong biblical resonance.)

Faith & Truth

There are two constant powerful refrains throughout Mere Christianity. First, faith matters more than feelings; faithfulness to the high and hard standards of Christian behavior matters more than doing what you feel like at the time. Lewis was swimming against a strong tide of popular romantic existentialism, a tide running even more strongly in our own day.

He was not, of course, opposed to feelings; but he knew, and it comes as a relief to our generation to be reminded, that if you go with the flow of feelings you will be inconsistent, unfaithful, lacking in all integrity. To realize that we don’t have to float out to sea on that strong tide, but that we can and must swim against it, is challenging but also liberating.

Second, you can understand falsehood from the standpoint of truth but not the other way around, just as someone who knows light can understand darkness but not vice versa: Thus you can understand sexual perversion once you know the norm; “good people know about both good and evil: bad people do not know about either”; “virtue brings light; indulgence brings fog.” (Incidentally, I don’t know whether it’s Lewis or his republishers, but I am puzzled that such a great writer should have been so indiscriminate and seemingly muddled with his use of the colon and semi-colon.)

So to the four different sections of the book. I rate the third (“Christian Behaviour”) as the finest; the first and last (“Right and Wrong as a Clue to the Meaning of the Universe” with its moral argument for God, and “Beyond Personality,” the closing pieces on the Trinity and on regeneration) as fascinating though in some ways problematic; and the second (“What Christians Believe”) as, worryingly, the most deeply flawed.

Even there, however, I remind myself that my millionaire friend knew some tricks I didn’t, and they worked. I also remember the apparent fact that from a scientific point of view there is no way a bumblebee should be able to fly, because its wings can’t support its body, but bees succeed not only in flying but in bringing home the honey. And if you conclude that Lewis is like the bee, and I am merely like the puzzled scientist who says it can’t be done that way, so be it.

To read more, please see the full article here.

New Temple Video Series: Part 1 — Sacred Space

David Larsen — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 08:57:53 +0000

As part of my effort to create some helpful videos discussing topics of interest here on Heavenly Ascents, I’ve teamed up with David Tayman from Visions of the Kingdom to present a series of videos illustrating the nature, function, doctrines, and ritual of the ancient Temple, in a manner that will be especially of interest to those desiring to understand the connection with modern Latter-day Saint Temples.

The first installment of this series of videos discusses the theme of Sacred Space.

This video is presented on my Heavenly Ascents YouTube channel as well as on David Tayman’s Visions of the Kingdom YouTube channel.

The great visuals, music, and animation of this video are thanks to David Tayman’s technical genius and I am grateful to be working with him on these productions!

Baptism or Temple Initiation?

David Larsen — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 04:51:10 +0000

Insights from Margaret Barker’s Temple Themes in Christian Worship: Part IV

In this post I will be looking at Chapter 5 of Temple Themes, entitled “Baptism and Resurrection.” In this chapter, Barker gives evidence that shows how Christian baptism was not simply an imitation of contemporary Jewish conversion rites, but had its roots in the much more ancient traditions of the royal high priesthood and the temple.

Modern Jewish Mikvah (Ritual Bath) at Chabad-Lubavitch of Greater Boynton, FL

On the History of Ritual Washing

According to Barker (p. 101), baptism (immersion) was a purification ritual required by the law of Moses, and eventually became part of the initiation into Judaism. It is extremely difficult, however, to pin down when Jews first started using baptism as an initiatory rite. Some have concluded that because John the Baptist was performing baptisms, the baptism of proselytes must have been a pre-Christian Jewish practice. Barker disputes such notions, informing us that there is no good evidence that shows that Jews practiced baptism for initiation at the time of Jesus, and, therefore, there is no proof that Christians adopted an existing Jewish custom for the initiation of converts. The first real evidence for Jews baptizing converts doesn’t come until 70 A.D. (p. 102).

Ritual washing, on the other hand, was a part of daily Jewish life. Cleanliness and purity was a big issue for Jews. Washing was necessary before eating, before and after touching the the sacred texts, before worship and entering the temple. There were deep baths, called mikvaoth in which both unclean people and vessels were immersed in order to purge them from uncleanliness, and to prepare them for contact with the sacred. According to Barker, there were dozens of mikvaoth around the Temple in Jerusalem. These places of immersion are found throughout the Jewish world, both ancient and modern. Although some forms of ritual washing involved washing only certain parts of the body, such as the hands and feet, other occasions required full immersion. The High Priest was to fully immerse himself several times before entering the Temple (Mishan Yoma 3.3).

The mikvah represented the sea, the gathered waters of creation from which life sprang forth. The “bronze sea” was set outside the Temple so that the priests could be cleansed before entering. The Temple, and more specifically, the Holy of Holies, of course, represented Heaven. This fact is interesting in light of the Jewish tradition that the awaited Son of God was expected to rise up from the waters (Dan 7:2, 13-14; 2 Esdras/4 Ezra 13:2-5, 26, 32) (pp. 104-105).

Christian baptism was not the same as Jewish ritual washing. As Barker notes, it “was not a regular cleansing ritual but marked the moment of initiation” (p. 105). For Christians, baptism was much more than becoming clean, whether physically or spiritually. Barker explains:

The effects of baptism were described in various ways: as the forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Spirit (Acts 2:38); as spiritual birth that gave access to the Kingdom of God (John 3:5); as the washing of regeneration and renewal (Titus 3:5); as enlightenment (Heb 6:5; 10:32); as sharing the death and resurrection of Christ (Rom 6:4–5; Col 3:1); as putting on a new nature (Col 3:10); as becoming a son of God (Rom 8:14). The Christian passed from darkness to the Kingdom of the beloved Son (Col 1:13); was called from darkness to light as the royal priesthood (1 Pet 2:9); was renewed in his mind (Eph 4:23) (p. 105).

All these various themes that surrounded Christian baptism are striking and are not necessarily a part of Jewish ritual cleansing, especially not at the time of Jesus. Some have interpreted these several images as simply the diverse ways in which Christians viewed the meaning of baptism. Barker, on the other hand, sees these themes as all part of the same rite. She proclaims: “The little that can be recovered about the initiation of the ancient royal high priests suggests that this was the origin of Christian baptism” (p. 105).

Anointing and Clothing: Part of Christian Baptism?

One of the elements that I initially had a hard time with in this chapter was the fact that Barker goes to great lengths to connect Christian baptism to, as mentioned above, the temple initiation of the ancient royal (Melchizedek) high priests. She mentions the Christian practice of anointing, clothing, feeding with bread and wine, giving a new name, etc., in conjunction, or as part of, baptism. The reason I couldn’t get my head around this is because for many Christians, including Latter-day Saints, these practices are not a part of our baptism. For Latter-day Saints, we would recognize many of these themes as part of our Temple initiatory rites. Why, then, does Barker try to make a connection between baptism and these themes? It is because they actually were (at least eventually) a part of Christian baptism.

Traditional Catholic and Orthodox baptism involves not only baptism with water, but also, among other things:

anointing with holy oil/chrism on the head and also signing with the cross on the brow, ears, eyes, nostrils, mouth, breast, and between the shoulders (anointing, or chrismation, is also called confirmation and seen as necessary to the reception of the Holy Spirit)
the giving of a baptismal/new name (usually the name of a saint)
clothing with a white robe (often substituted now by a white veil on the head)

The Baptism of St. Vladimir–St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral (Кафедральный собор Святого Владимира, Владимирский собор)

I became somewhat confused by the inclusion of these practices in some Christian baptisms and the insistence of Margaret Barker on connecting Christian baptism with ancient priesthood initiation. I assumed that there must have been some mixing of practices by early Christians in the first centuries after Christ. I was much relieved when Bryce Haymond, of www.templestudy.com, shared the following quote from BYU professor John Tvedtnes in a comment here. According to Tvedtnes:

In early Christianity, following the apostasy, temple initiation eventually merged with the baptismal initiation, which included both washing and anointing with oil, along with donning of white clothing and sometimes the reception of a new name. (”Early Christian and Jewish Rituals Related to Temple Practices,” FAIR 1999 Conference)

It is no wonder, then, that Barker so adeptly picked up on the connection between these practices and the ancient priesthood initiation. Certainly, the washing, anointing, clothing, and other related rituals that were merged with baptism can be seen, as she states it, as “restoring the rites of the older temple” (p. 123).

With this understanding in mind, we are ready to explore the amazing insights that Barker provides regarding the initiatory rites performed in conjunction with the ancient Temple and Melchizedek Priesthood, as well as how the knowledge of these rites helped form Christian thought.

(To be continued…)