Faith Works 4-5-24
Jeff Gill
After Easter, a few words of advice
___
With all the activity and complications of Holy Week and Easter, many preachers and parsons are needing a good long nap.
Or a series of naps.
This is not a great week to reach out to a minister or church musician with your latest great idea. In order to help give them a bit of a break, I'm opening up "Faith Works" as an advice column this week.
Are these actual questions sent in to me, or am I crafting queries to suit the answers I want to give? Yeah, I've always wondered about that, too. Moving on…
Dear Faith Works: I think my preacher is using the wrong translation of the Bible. In fact, I think most people in my church are using the wrong version. Can you help me tell them to use the right one?
My reply: Absolutely! Happy to do it. First, you should study Hebrew and Greek. Make sure not to get tangled up with modern versions of either; Biblical Hebrew is not what they're using in the cafes of Tel Aviv today, and Koine Greek isn't what the front desk is speaking in Athens or Santorini. But you can get some good modules or videos online to help you get started. Once you've gotten a basic working knowledge of those languages for the Old Testament and New, you're ready to look at editions in the original languages. For the New Testament, I have come to like "The Reader's Greek New Testament" from Zondervan; they also have "A Reader's Hebrew Bible" which I find helpful.
Faith Works column guy: Why does the praise band at my church always play the same few sets of contemporary Christian music? I hear stuff online that's newer and more interesting to me.
My reply: If you give more to your congregation's general budget, and they improve musician compensation, they will find it much easier to spend more time learning and practicing new music than working an extra shift at the cash register to cover their rent and groceries. I'm a firm believer that music teaches, and therefore that 1 Timothy 5:17-18 covers music ministry leaders as well.
Yo, religion dude in the paper: Why don't you talk more about politics? I've asked my pastor this, too, and they don't really answer my question . . . okay, they won't talk about politics is what I mean. Anyhow, what's your story?
My reply: Friend, politics is a funny thing. And like most humor, you don't want too much of it in your sermon. That's what stand up is for. Do I want the hungry fed, the naked clothed, the homeless given a place to live in peace? Yep, that's what the Boss (no, not Springsteen) tell me. I start with children, since as a friend recently said to me: "every morning I have to feed the hungry and clothe the naked." As a mother, it's a hard calling to miss. Beyond our own kids and relatives and church family? That's where it gets tricky. Start with making sure all your church family is well housed and securely fed, then work out into your neighborhood. I suspect you'll all be talking politics soon enough just doing that.
Faith Works writer: love your enemies? I can barely love my neighbor. How does this Christianity thing work, anyhow?
My reply: Do you know your neighbor? For all you know, they might be an enemy, so it's good to start there. Say hello. Talk about the pollen this spring. Work on it from there. As for loving enemies, I'm still working on it myself, which is where I appreciate the whole grace thing.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he knows all the authors of these questions. In fact: ask him more questions if you want at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
Friday, March 29, 2024
Monday, March 25, 2024
Faith Works 3-29-24
Faith Works 3-29-24
Jeff Gill
Holy Saturday defines our time and circumstances
___
When it comes to the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, you'd be forgiven if you thought of it as "Egg Hunt Day."
Holy Saturday isn't a part of many church traditions, even when Easter, or the celebration of Christ's resurrection, is observed. Liturgical churches have a whole series of events from Palm Sunday through what's often called "Holy Week" to mark that last period of the earthly ministry of Jesus, but Holy Saturday can get left out.
As the sun sets on Holy Saturday, Easter vigils begin in many traditions, and some Christian preachers just make sure to get to bed early (if they can) to wake up in time for sunrise services, a more Protestant tradition in place of Easter vigils.
But over the last decade or so I've found myself increasingly drawn to consideration of Holy Saturday itself. The time unambiguously between the death of Christ Jesus on the cross, and the first dawning awareness of his rising, or what English speaking churches call Easter.
One apocryphal line of the tradition teaches that this is the time when, according to a certain reading of I Peter 3:19, Christ "went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison," or in the medieval iconography, performed "the harrowing of Hell." My favorite Bosch work shows Jesus basically kicking down the doors of Hades, which would have gotten everyone's attention down there. Some even suggest he left behind a "Closed for Business" sign which is a topic for another day.
It's the quiet sad clarity of what Holy Saturday points back to that has my attention: the time after Jesus was declared dead and publicly buried in his borrowed garden tomb, and before the promise of new life was fulfilled. We think of Mary and John and those who left with them; of Peter wandering distraught through the streets of Jerusalem. It's all too easy to imagine the disciples left to their own devices the night before, and facing a new day, a chill sunrise, with their confusion bumping up against their faith. Food had to be found in the marketplace, cooking in the kitchen, cleaning to be done as the guests for Passover left for the countryside. It seemed to most of them to be "life after Jesus." What now?
We can jump ahead too quickly. Into Easter, into resurrection, into proof and witness and belief. Thomas will remind us soon enough of the depth of that despair which had to be settling in for many of Jesus's followers on Holy Saturday. They could remember Jesus, but what value was memory in the presence of hideous loss?
Where we can jump ahead is to our day, and the parallels and echoes and holographic comparisons between that Holy Week and our own journey with Jesus. On Holy Saturday, in our lives lived out in faith, we are between promise and fulfillment; death is a continued reality, with resurrection still a prophetic reality we struggle to make sense of in the day to day. "Practice resurrection" as Wendell Berry suggests, but we still ask ourselves "how?"
We know what's coming Easter morning. Lilies and anthems and maybe even some trumpets, certainly songs celebrating "Christ arose!" The disciples in their rented rooms and borrowed campsites around Jerusalem after the crucifixion knew what Jesus kept telling them, "and on the third day rise." But they struggled to make sense of it, too. Some probably better than others.
We're given reason to think Mary Magdalene may have had a better idea than most of what was coming, but even she set herself to practical arrangements for life as usual. Spices and aloe, burial preparations for a body already entombed. Somehow, what Jesus said will make sense. So she carried on.
As shall we, this Holy Saturday.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he knows it's too soon to say "Christ is risen" but it's good practice. Tell him what you endure in faith at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
Jeff Gill
Holy Saturday defines our time and circumstances
___
When it comes to the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, you'd be forgiven if you thought of it as "Egg Hunt Day."
Holy Saturday isn't a part of many church traditions, even when Easter, or the celebration of Christ's resurrection, is observed. Liturgical churches have a whole series of events from Palm Sunday through what's often called "Holy Week" to mark that last period of the earthly ministry of Jesus, but Holy Saturday can get left out.
As the sun sets on Holy Saturday, Easter vigils begin in many traditions, and some Christian preachers just make sure to get to bed early (if they can) to wake up in time for sunrise services, a more Protestant tradition in place of Easter vigils.
But over the last decade or so I've found myself increasingly drawn to consideration of Holy Saturday itself. The time unambiguously between the death of Christ Jesus on the cross, and the first dawning awareness of his rising, or what English speaking churches call Easter.
One apocryphal line of the tradition teaches that this is the time when, according to a certain reading of I Peter 3:19, Christ "went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison," or in the medieval iconography, performed "the harrowing of Hell." My favorite Bosch work shows Jesus basically kicking down the doors of Hades, which would have gotten everyone's attention down there. Some even suggest he left behind a "Closed for Business" sign which is a topic for another day.
It's the quiet sad clarity of what Holy Saturday points back to that has my attention: the time after Jesus was declared dead and publicly buried in his borrowed garden tomb, and before the promise of new life was fulfilled. We think of Mary and John and those who left with them; of Peter wandering distraught through the streets of Jerusalem. It's all too easy to imagine the disciples left to their own devices the night before, and facing a new day, a chill sunrise, with their confusion bumping up against their faith. Food had to be found in the marketplace, cooking in the kitchen, cleaning to be done as the guests for Passover left for the countryside. It seemed to most of them to be "life after Jesus." What now?
We can jump ahead too quickly. Into Easter, into resurrection, into proof and witness and belief. Thomas will remind us soon enough of the depth of that despair which had to be settling in for many of Jesus's followers on Holy Saturday. They could remember Jesus, but what value was memory in the presence of hideous loss?
Where we can jump ahead is to our day, and the parallels and echoes and holographic comparisons between that Holy Week and our own journey with Jesus. On Holy Saturday, in our lives lived out in faith, we are between promise and fulfillment; death is a continued reality, with resurrection still a prophetic reality we struggle to make sense of in the day to day. "Practice resurrection" as Wendell Berry suggests, but we still ask ourselves "how?"
We know what's coming Easter morning. Lilies and anthems and maybe even some trumpets, certainly songs celebrating "Christ arose!" The disciples in their rented rooms and borrowed campsites around Jerusalem after the crucifixion knew what Jesus kept telling them, "and on the third day rise." But they struggled to make sense of it, too. Some probably better than others.
We're given reason to think Mary Magdalene may have had a better idea than most of what was coming, but even she set herself to practical arrangements for life as usual. Spices and aloe, burial preparations for a body already entombed. Somehow, what Jesus said will make sense. So she carried on.
As shall we, this Holy Saturday.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he knows it's too soon to say "Christ is risen" but it's good practice. Tell him what you endure in faith at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
Notes from my Knapsack 4-4-24
Notes from my Knapsack 4-4-24
Jeff Gill
History and cosmic events with local impact
___
Around 3:00 pm on April 8, Licking County will become strangely dim.
Unless, of course, there's a thunderstorm overhead.
Actually, when a solar eclipse passes, and is as close to totality as we will see in Licking County, you would notice the intensification of darkness even on a cloudy day. Eclipses are powerful astronomical phenomena, and a total solar eclipse is like nothing else you might experience out in nature.
Past solar eclipses passing across Kentucky and Tennessee have taught police and fire officials a lesson, since you can easily add thousands to an area over a few days, with no problem: it's all of them wanting to go home, or find a bathroom, within the same fifteen minutes after an eclipse ends that creates the immediate havoc. We won't see a total eclipse in Granville on April 8th, but we will see traffic jams heading past about 4 pm.
Natural phenomena do leave a mark on the collective memory of a community, or state, or region. Granville's history includes two strange events of the early 1800s with a lasting legacy in our public recollection.
Bushnell's "History of Granville" written in 1880 recalls the "Earthquake of 1811," the New Madrid Fault which still threatens the Midwest today. In 1811, the initial jolt on Dec. 16th was felt all across the Great Lakes region.
Early on Dec. 16, 1811, the new doctor for the village, Dr. William Richards was "sleeping one night in the same room with David Messenger, Jr., when the house was shaken by one of the great earthquake waves that changed the channel of the Mississippi. Messenger was frightened by the rolling of the house, and waking the Doctor, asked what he thought was the cause of the house shaking so. The Doctor roused up enough to mutter that it must be a hog rubbing against the house, and went to sleep again."
Along with that memorable story, Rev. Bushnell interviewed an elderly man of 1880 who had childhood memories of 1811: "The day before this occurrence Daniel Baker had been with his family to Newark to make some purchases, among other things some blue-edged dishes. That night the family slept in pioneer style in their new cabin. The dishes stood on the table and the bed of Daniel, Jr., then a small boy, was on the floor and near the table. He was awakened in the night by the rattling of the dishes over his head, but was too young to be alarmed."
Bushnell also recounts the great "Meteor Shower" of 1833, a major occurrence of the annual Leonid meteor shower that was visible all across the early United States, with variable impacts depending on the local weather. Alabama had clear skies, and "Stars Fell on Alabama" became a popular book and orchestral jazz standard out of those vivid memories.
Early in the morning of Nov. 13th in Granville, Ohio: "It was but the quiet, gentle, beautiful, prolonged rain of glowing sparks that died as they neared or touched the ground. Here, there, everywhere, they fell like lighted snow-flakes at the gentle beginning of a snow storm, each leaving a fine luminous track behind it. The morning bell was rung rather boisterously in the hope of waking people up to see the sublime spectacle. Some were panic stricken and expected the end of the world. One old lady rose, went into the street and shouted in terror. But most of the people appreciated it at once as an unusual natural phenomenon. It was a season of rapt enjoyment until the display was lost in the rising day."
Our eclipse this April will likely be a similar sort of experience.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's planning to be out with his eclipse glasses on Apr. 8! Tell him your cosmic experience at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
===
Maria: if you need 500 words not 600, delete the paragraph starting "Along with that memorable story…" but it was too good not to include, in case you have the space!
Jeff Gill
History and cosmic events with local impact
___
Around 3:00 pm on April 8, Licking County will become strangely dim.
Unless, of course, there's a thunderstorm overhead.
Actually, when a solar eclipse passes, and is as close to totality as we will see in Licking County, you would notice the intensification of darkness even on a cloudy day. Eclipses are powerful astronomical phenomena, and a total solar eclipse is like nothing else you might experience out in nature.
Past solar eclipses passing across Kentucky and Tennessee have taught police and fire officials a lesson, since you can easily add thousands to an area over a few days, with no problem: it's all of them wanting to go home, or find a bathroom, within the same fifteen minutes after an eclipse ends that creates the immediate havoc. We won't see a total eclipse in Granville on April 8th, but we will see traffic jams heading past about 4 pm.
Natural phenomena do leave a mark on the collective memory of a community, or state, or region. Granville's history includes two strange events of the early 1800s with a lasting legacy in our public recollection.
Bushnell's "History of Granville" written in 1880 recalls the "Earthquake of 1811," the New Madrid Fault which still threatens the Midwest today. In 1811, the initial jolt on Dec. 16th was felt all across the Great Lakes region.
Early on Dec. 16, 1811, the new doctor for the village, Dr. William Richards was "sleeping one night in the same room with David Messenger, Jr., when the house was shaken by one of the great earthquake waves that changed the channel of the Mississippi. Messenger was frightened by the rolling of the house, and waking the Doctor, asked what he thought was the cause of the house shaking so. The Doctor roused up enough to mutter that it must be a hog rubbing against the house, and went to sleep again."
Along with that memorable story, Rev. Bushnell interviewed an elderly man of 1880 who had childhood memories of 1811: "The day before this occurrence Daniel Baker had been with his family to Newark to make some purchases, among other things some blue-edged dishes. That night the family slept in pioneer style in their new cabin. The dishes stood on the table and the bed of Daniel, Jr., then a small boy, was on the floor and near the table. He was awakened in the night by the rattling of the dishes over his head, but was too young to be alarmed."
Bushnell also recounts the great "Meteor Shower" of 1833, a major occurrence of the annual Leonid meteor shower that was visible all across the early United States, with variable impacts depending on the local weather. Alabama had clear skies, and "Stars Fell on Alabama" became a popular book and orchestral jazz standard out of those vivid memories.
Early in the morning of Nov. 13th in Granville, Ohio: "It was but the quiet, gentle, beautiful, prolonged rain of glowing sparks that died as they neared or touched the ground. Here, there, everywhere, they fell like lighted snow-flakes at the gentle beginning of a snow storm, each leaving a fine luminous track behind it. The morning bell was rung rather boisterously in the hope of waking people up to see the sublime spectacle. Some were panic stricken and expected the end of the world. One old lady rose, went into the street and shouted in terror. But most of the people appreciated it at once as an unusual natural phenomenon. It was a season of rapt enjoyment until the display was lost in the rising day."
Our eclipse this April will likely be a similar sort of experience.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's planning to be out with his eclipse glasses on Apr. 8! Tell him your cosmic experience at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
===
Maria: if you need 500 words not 600, delete the paragraph starting "Along with that memorable story…" but it was too good not to include, in case you have the space!
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