Thanks to the team over at The United Methodist Reporter for the chance to offer some thoughts on vows, based in part on a recent piece that argued personal convictions trump ordination promises. If you haven’t seen it yet, the link is here.
Have you ever met a new parent or grandparent? They are almost always chomping at the bit to show you pictures. And it’s not just proud moms and granddads. All of us share, promote, and defend that which we value, worship, and love. The ability to “+1,” “like,” share, or RT a post, status, or article is only the newest way we do this. What we share is what we love. St. Augustine notes:
“In the theatre – that den of wickedness – someone who loves an actor and revels in his skill as if it were a great good, or even the supreme one, also loves all those who share his love, not on their account, but on account of the one they equally love. The more passionate he is in his love, the more he tries by whatever methods he can to make his hero loved by a greater number of people, and the more he desires to point him out to a greater number of people. If he sees someone unenthusiastic he rouses him with his praises as much as he can. If he finds anyone antagonistic, he violently hate that person’s hatred of his hero and goes all out to remove it by whatever methods he can.”
What a perfect description of how social media works. Whether what you love is a celebrity (as in Augustine’s example of a famous actor), an idea, or a product, the odds are you find ways to share this. The Christian word for this is evangelism.
Often, it seems that Christians are willing to share everything but the love we have for God. We put Apple stickers on our car, post about which team(s) we have winning the NCAA tournament, pin to our favorite crafts on Pinterest, or tell our neighbors about the great new fish recipe we just attempted. But talk about God? That’s only something those “crazy Christians” do.
Augustine would suggest this is precisely backwards:
“So what should we do in sharing the love of God, whose full enjoyment constitutes the happy life? It is God from whom all those who love him derive both their existence and their love; it is God who frees us from any fear that he can fail to satisfy anyone to whom he becomes known; it is God who wants himself to be loved, not in order to gain any reward for himself but to give to those who love him an eternal reward – namely himself, the object of their love.” (On Christian Teaching, Book One, p. 22)
Unlike Justin Bieber or a mobile phone company, the love of God is pure and self-less. God does not want us to buy anything, but only desires to give. God has no need of our love, but loves us enough to continually seek us out – the Hound of Heaven, as Francis Thompson named Him – purely out of a desire to give of Godself, the one pure, unchangeable, and fulfilling object of our love. If we really believe that God is the most true, good, and beautiful object of our love, how could we not share the Love to which all over loves point?
We share what we love. Whether the thing loved is a cause, a shoe brand, a song, or the Three-Yet-One God through Whom all things were made.
What, or Who, are you sharing today?
Have you ever thought to yourself, “The best solution to an internet troll is a physical beating?” More than once, I’ve encountered trolls of a sufficiently brutish nature that I concluded the only possible solution was violence. Oddly enough, a former professional MMA (mixed martial arts) fighter named Josh Neer recently tested that theory. Here’s what went down, according to the aptly named MMA news outlet Bloody Elbow:
“The 5’9″ Neer, who has fought at Welterweight (170 pounds) for most of his career was seen in the video he briefly posted to YouTube on top of the 6’6″ 240 pound Martin landing elbows to Martin’s skull before teammates dragged him off the beaten man. Then Neer appeared to kick the downed Martin in the face although both he and his coach claimed he tripped.”
The video, which you can see at the link below, shows 14 seconds of a vicious beating. The reason? Martin had been trolling Neer on social media, which Neer initially ignored, but under sustained verbal assault he eventually relented and agreed for Martin to come in and spar. He posted his rationale for the invitation, along with a sample of Martin’s messaging:
Despite the video, Martin claims he was sucker-punched and that the full video would show a much closer encounter. He added, “If I fought Neer I would take him to decision because he can’t score nor choke me out or take me down when I’m in my guard!” (Note that the size difference between the two fighters makes such declarations less brave than it sounds.)
Neer got what many of us wanted: he got to beat up the troll. Let’s be clear about what a troll is. This definition is culled from the Psychology Today piece linked below:
“An Internet troll is someone who comes into a discussion and posts comments designed to upset or disrupt the conversation. Often, in fact, it seems like there is no real purpose behind their comments except to upset everyone else involved. Trolls will lie, exaggerate, and offend to get a response. “
Martin got his response, in the form of a serious beatdown. But did it stop the troll, did it cause a breakthrough or a change? No. This is because trolls are probably psychologically resistant to insight. A recent study likened internet trolls to “prototypical everyday sadists.” It goes on to elaborate:
“Both trolls and sadists feel sadistic glee at the distress of others. Sadists just want to have fun … and the Internet is their playground!”
There is no negotiating with a sadist, whether through intellectual convincing or physical violence. Josh Neer learned the hard way that one cannot beat them into submission (even if you elbow them repeatedly in the face). As we learned from the classic early Broderick movie War Games, the only way to win with trolls is to refuse to play the game. You cannot beat them, but you can refuse to join them.
Thus, the Psychology Today blog concludes,
The next time you encounter a troll online, remember:
These trolls are some truly difficult people.
It is your suffering that brings them pleasure, so the best thing you can do is ignore them.
As Christians, should we prioritize Jesus’ teachings, or teachings about Jesus himself? Some Christians (and some Unitarians who consider themselves followers of Jesus) suggest emphasizing the former:
“UU Christians look to the teachings of Jesus (not about Jesus) as a source of wisdom and guidance in building the Beloved Community.”
“…the fundamentalists see Christianity as a religion about Jesus, while I and others understand Christianity to be the religion of Jesus. The key difference here is that a religion about Jesus casts him as a god who(emphasis original)m we worship, whereas seeing Christianity as the religion ofJesus allows us to see him as a brother, as the role model for how we can attain a mystical union with God just as he did.” (emphasis original)
These two examples come from Unitarian Universalist sources, the first from Eno River UU in Durham, NC and the second from a UU Fellowship in Churchville, MD. More troubling is that I have heard these exact same sentiments shared by Christians, including United Methodists (who, supposedly, have clear doctrinal standards emphasizing particular teachings about Jesus). Why is this bifurcation problematic? Lesslie Newbigin gives us the answer:
“And indeed it is the very nature of the gospel itself which always defeats these attempts to separate the word from the deed, to give one primacy over the other, because the gospel is precisely the good news of the Word made flesh…to set word and deed against one another, and insist that one or the other has primacy, is futile. The announcing of the good news about the Kingdom is empty verbiage if there is nothing happening to make the news credible. On the other hand, the most admirable program for human welfare does not provide any substitute for the name of Jesus in whom God’s reign has come. At its very best, such a program can be no more than a sign pointing toward the full reality which we encounter only when we encounter Him.” (Signs Amid the Rubble, 99.)
With Newbigin, we see that choosing between the teachings of Jesus (feeding the poor, forgiveness, clothing the naked, etc.) and the apostolic teaching about Jesus as the Word made flesh is ultimately a false choice. Word and deed, piety and mercy, hang together or not at all. We don’t have to choose. Jesus did not intend us to.
The message is the Messenger. The Messenger is the message. To paraphrase an old wedding liturgy, what God hath joined together in Jesus the Christ, let no one put asunder.
[Warning: Spoilers about a very intense Season 3 House of Cards scene, and broader HOC spoilers, below.]
What does Frank Underwood believe about Jesus? As Underwood, Kevin Spacey masterfully plays the House of Cards protagonist, a character with moral abandon seldom seen on the small or large screen. In season 3, just released by Netflix, now-President Underwood is not showing any signs of slowing down. He (literally) urinates on the memory of his ancestors to open the season, and an episode 4 ethical dilemma finds him talking ethics with a Bishop late one night in a church. Spacey’s Underwood is so skillfully sleezy that we almost believe him when he tells the good Bishop he wants a few moments alone to pray.
C’mon, do you really think Frank is going to pray to anyone but himself? (To be fair, he has conversed with Satan on screen as well.) Of course not. He stares up a crucifix, shares a few critical words with Jesus, and then spits upon it – a treatment not unlike what the real Jesus endured on the cross, actually. As you can imagine, this scene shocked audiences. Much has been made of this scene, but the broader implications of his conversation with and about the Son of God has been largely ignored. Here’s a snippet, edited down to the relevant statements:
Underwood: “I understand the Old Testament God, whose power is absolute, who rules through fear, but…him?” [points to crucifix]
Bishop: “There’s no such thing as absolute power for us, except on the receiving end….Two rules: Love God. Love each other. Period. You weren’t chosen, Mr. President. Only he [Jesus] was.”
(Frank asks for alone time to pray.)
Underwood – looking up at crucifix: “Love? That’s what you’re selling. Well, I don’t buy it.” [Spits]
Frank, without knowing it, has just made a theological argument for a very old Christian heresy. Notice the strong division between the “Old Testament God” and Jesus. For Underwood, the OT deity is a being of power and intimidation, and, while he doesn’t elaborate, his attitude towards Jesus on the cross indicates he understands the discontinuity: this Jesus wields power very differently than does the fictional President. This bifurcation between the Old and New Testaments, even to the point of asserting the centrality of different deities to each, is called Marcionism. The definition from Theopedia is helpful:
“Marcionism was an early heresy led by Marcion, who proposed the first canon of Christian texts. The proposed canon consisted of the Gospel of Luke and several of Paul’s epistles; however, Marcion edited the writings by deleting any references that appeared to approve of the Old Testament and the creator God of the Jews. Marcionism thus rejected the Old Testament God, claiming that Jesus represented the true sovereign God who was different from the God of the Hebrew people.”
Underwood expresses a sentiment that is still not uncommon today, though typically less developed than Marcion’s own views. Here in the Bible Belt, you even occasionally drive by churches that advertise themselves as “New Testament Christians,” whatever the hell that means.
It’s no surprise that Frank’s gospel is a false one, a heresy (to be fair, he’s kind of an inverse Marcionite, since he identifies with the “Old Testament Deity” that Marcion rejected). What is a surprise, a problem even now, is how easily we still buy into Marcion’s lie today. Make no mistake: the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament both contain the revelation of the one God’s gracious activity towards us, God’s creatures. Where Marcion posited radical discontinuity, the orthodox position has always on a strong connection between the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament. There is a beauty to the canon, which is no surprise if you believe (as Christians do) that the 66 books of our Bible represent a beautiful library in which everywhere God is revealed in loving self-disclosure.
The life and witness of Jesus makes no sense without an appreciation of the Old Testament narrative. There is no understanding Jesus and his mission apart from his role as Israel’s Messiah, fulfilling the promise to Abraham to “bless many nations” as the Suffering Servant of Isaiah. This same Jesus is sent by and begotten of the Father and united with the Spirit, one God in Triunity, who (Christians believe) is none other than the God confessed still by Jews in the Shema: “Hear O Israel, your God is one.”
Two Testaments. One God. Frank Underwood is a very effective politician, but as a theologian he is a pure heretic.
The good news is that God’s loving action is revealed in both Testaments, which tell the story of a God radically committed to His creation. So committed, in fact, that God abdicated all God’s power and, in Christ, subjected Himself to the totality of wrath, sin, evil, and abandonment that vexes humanity, and submitted to death on our behalf. In submitting to death, it was conquered, and we were healed.
To Frank Underwood, and to us, the cross is and always remains a scandal. After all, a God of power is comprehensible, recognizable on the world’s terms. But what earthly ruler – a Nietzschean like Underwood, a Caesar, or a Putin – would dare endorse the seeming naiveté of a God who gives up power out of selfless, other-regarding love for ungrateful creatures who will ultimately put God to death rather than submit to His Kingdom of love and mercy?
Thus St. Paul said to the Corinthians,
“The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are being destroyed. But it is the power of God for those of us who are being saved.” (1 Cor. 1:18, CEB)
At least Underwood is honest enough to know that he cannot conduct his affairs as he does and also worship the God who hangs on a cross. Frank understands the foolishness of the cross. But now the question is to us, followers of the risen Lord. Do we, “who are being saved,” embrace the foolishness that is the cross?
I conclude with the words of Charles Wesley, who captures both the pain and the beauty, the incomprehensibility and the glory of the cross in his excellent hymn:
O Love divine, what has thou done!
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father’s coeternal Son
bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th’ immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
Our deity who art everywhere and in everything,hallowed be every possible name for you.Please make things here a little better,and give us all the things we wantwhich is exactly what heaven will be like.Deprive us not of our daily mochaccinos,and don’t make us feel guilty for the bad things we do,but definitely punish everyone we dislike.Deliver us unto many pleasing things,for nothing that we wantcould possibly be evil.For the world is ours,our self-actualization knows no bounds,and we are pretty freaking awesome.Amen.
“Suspense of judgment and exercise of charity were safer and seemlier for Christian [people], than hot pursuit of these controversies, wherein they that are most fervent to dispute be not always the most able to determine.”
-Richard Hooker, Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity
The church is about Jesus. That seems obvious, but we humans are a distractible lot, easily thrown off course. Yes, it seems obvious that the Body of Christ is to be centered in Christ. But in large, bureaucratic organizations, mission drift is all too real. As a big-tent denomination, our variety of goals, agendas, and callings within the United Methodist Church is a strength (other large denominations, or even megachurches, would apply equally, here). Taken individually, most of these are even noble and life-giving, but they can also take us off-center. Put another way: there are many centrifugal forces at work in the church.
Wikipedia defines centrifugal force in such a way that I am reminded of the UMC at present:
A force that draws a body away from center? Wow. We have a lot of those. All those boards and agencies, all those programs, teams, and sub-sub-committees, each vying for attention, energy, and resources. One veteran of a similar family feud is R.R. Reno, who draws on Anglican priest-theologian Richard Hooker for advice on weathering the storm:
“For a great Anglican figure such as Richard Hooker, the deepest law of ecclesiastical polity was preservative, and all the more so when the church was threatened by centrifugal forces that threatened ruin…he was convinced that the church communicates the grace of God as a stable and settled form of life that is visibly connected to the apostolic age. His via media was precisely the willingness to dwell in this inherited and stable form, especially when uncertainty and indecision about pressing contemporary issues predominate. For Hooker the first imperative is clear: to receive that which has been given, rather than embarking on a fantasy of constructive theological speculation and ecclesial purification that would only diminish and destabilize.”
In the midst of “centrifugal forces” that sought to destabilize and harm the Body, Hooker’s strategy was to stay close to the apostolic deposit which had been received, on his view, from Christ an the apostles. I am especially drawn to Hooker’s insight, quoted by Reno in the original section above, that the quickest to debate might be the last people you want trying to make decisions.
We all know the swing is fun. The centrifugal force brings a rush; it’s a blast to swing out as far from center as possible and look around. But the Body can’t maintain itself if too many of us are constantly playing so far from center that we forget what home looks like. As Reno hints at, “when uncertainty and indecision” abound (hello GC2012!), it’s time to stay close to center, to what has been received.
After all, it’s impossible to build on an unstable foundation. Even the friendliest centrifugal forces still need a center off of which to pivot. What would it look like for protestant Christians, and especially for United Methodists, to dwell in the inherited forms today? What would it look like for us to get off the swing?
Source: R.R. Reno, In the Ruins of the Church (Grand Rapids: Brazos 2002).
“I would rather experience repentance in my soul than know how to define it.” -Thomas a’ Kempis
The most beloved book by Christians, other than the Bible, is a short devotional work by a 15th century monk named Thomas a’ Kempis called Imitation of Christ. a’ Kempis is no saint or Doctor of the Church; as best as we can tell, he was a humble monk from a now-defunct order who just happened to leave us some of the most profound and stirring insights into the spiritual life every put on paper. He was a favorite of Therese of Lisieux, Thomas More, Ignatius of Loyola, John Wesley, and Thomas Merton, just to name a few. And during this season of Lent, who better to guide us on the practice of repentance? Let us give the wise monk a hearing once more:
“The only true liberty or honest joy is in fearing God with a good conscience. Blessed is the man who can set aside all the sources of distraction and perfectly recollect himself in holy repentance. Blessed is he who shuns all that soils and weighs down his conscience…Always keep an eye on yourself and be more willing to correct yourself than your dearest friends.” (Ch. 21, “Repentance of the Heart”)
A few thoughts:
- How radically pre-modern it is to claim that liberty resides in fearing God! Modern libertarians would shun such a notion of freedom.
- Repentance is a “recollection” of the self. Like the Prodigal Son, the repentant sinner is one who returns to their true home to be restored in the arms of the loving Father.
- Repentance requires setting aside distraction? Dear God, my iPhone and my iPad have both been flashing alerts at me in the 10 minutes I’ve been writing. Few acts of renunciation are more difficult in 2015 than living lives which are not constantly drowning in distraction.
- More willing to correct myself than others?? But it’s so easy to despise my neighbors’ speck or splinter, and to ignore the log in my own eye!
Repentance is, of course, a daily need and not merely a seasonal occurrence. For half a millennium, there have been few better guides than Thomas a’ Kempis. He would be the first to say this obvious conclusion: the point is not to know how to define repentance, not to read great works about repentance, but to do it.
Source: ‘a Kempis, Thomas. The Imitation of Christ (New York: Vintage Books 1998), 30.
A friend of mine once told me a horror story from his ordination interviews that has stuck with me. Between the actual interviews and learning their fate from the committee, the would-be ordinands were invited to a time of worship and Holy Communion. A problem was discovered, though: someone had forgotten to get the Welch’s and bread. No worries, though, it was pointed out that there were still muffins and cola in the break room. Some hapless ordained UMC pastor then proceeded to retrieve, and then celebrate, communion with a gaggle of nascent elders and deacons using snack food. Only a few brave souls abstained from the spectacle. Can you imagine? The most holy of mysteries transformed into the contents of a fifth-grader’s lunchbox. Horrifying.
But wait! some will object. If you were on the mission field, and no wine or juice and no conventional bread were available, you’d have to just use what was there! Can’t God’s Spirit inhabit a poppy-seed muffin just as easily as a loaf of King’s Hawaiian Bread? Why limit what God can do?
We’ve all had that argument at some point. Some unfortunate youth pastors will even lead “communion” using soda and Doritos just to prove the point. The logic is thus: extreme circumstances call for unusual measures. And if such measures are acceptable in extreme circumstances, then why not make them normative?
This is the logic behind a liturgical innovation recently unleashed upon an unsuspecting church: “Ashes At Home.” The idea is simple: Can’t make it to church? Use this liturgy alone or with your family. After all, Israel is a worshiping community that has often had to hold its most significant gatherings not at Temple or synagogue but at home:
“Of course, the ideal mode of prayer is to be physically together, but necessary separation due to illness, work, political exile or even weather should not squelch the prayers of the faithful.
Israel has also taught us that sharing in common prayers and festivals binds us together. To be Jewish means to pray the prayers of Israel, no matter where you are. During World War II, the Jews in concentration camps prayed the same prayers as the Jews in New York. Rabbis in Jerusalem share the same prayer as laity in Moscow. Praying the prayers of the faith binds Israel together.”
Of course, there is more to Ash Wednesday than just “prayers.” I don’t know of any Christians who would argue that prayers can or should only be done in church. But, following the lead of the prophet Joel, Ash Wednesday is a time of communal repentance, not just individual or familial spiritual experience:
12“Yet even now,” says the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;13 and rend your hearts and not your garments.” Return to the LORD, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and repents of evil.14 Who knows whether he will not turn and repent, and leave a blessing behind him, a cereal offering and a drink offering for the LORD, your God?15 Blow the trumpet in Zion; sanctify a fast; call a solemn assembly;16 gather the people. Sanctify the congregation; assemble the elders; gather the children, even nursing infants. Let the bridegroom leave his room, and the bride her chamber. (Joel 2:12-16, RSV)
“We all have experienced this. We have watched the Holy Spirit hover over the elements in hospital rooms as we pray in that space, ‘Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.’
We have felt the Spirit of Pentecost bind us together as we have prayed the Lord’s Prayer with people of a different language, and yet prayed with one heart and mind.”
As any chaplain will tell you, there are liturgical rites that occur in a hospital room that are not parallel any other context – and always as an extension of the church to the hospital room, not a substitute. Like the hypothetical mission field, it is an unusual circumstance offered to normalize a new practice (and doesn’t communion, which requires a clergy person representing the church, make for an especially bad example here?). And Pentecost? Well, if the argument is that the gathering of the community is somehow secondary, that we can do just as well alone or in our homes what is done in the assembly, than the Spirit who was poured out on the assembly at Pentecost seems to be precisely the wrong evidence to muster.
The 2015 snowpocalypse is hardly a situation as extreme as the Diaspora or the concentration camp. Moreover, there is more to the Ash Wednesday service than mere prayers, which can be done by anyone, in any place, at any time. A snowstorm does not warrant trading an act of communal repentance for my living room. The solution, actually, is much simpler: just offer the ashes the First Sunday of Lent. That’s what I will be doing. Since we could not be together on Wednesday, we will dedicate part of our first gathering of Lent to repent and to remind each other of our need for a community in which repentance is made possible. One blizzard does not a Diaspora make. Unusual circumstances are no reason to invent something out of whole cloth, particularly when a much simpler solution is right in front of us.
So don’t settle for a saccharine substitute from the convenience of your living room. Get your ash in church. I’ll see you there Sunday. And best of all, we’ll have a whole community of penitent, praying Christians on hand for the occasion. Discipleship is difficult work. God, in His grace, doesn’t intend us to do it alone. It takes a church. Thanks be to God.
An isolated reader of Scripture is as dangerous as a self-taught surgeon. One of the presenting conceits of contemporary Christianity is that the isolated interpreter has become normative. Few things are deadlier to Christian truth than exegesis stifled by personal idolatries and hidden prejudices. Princeton Seminary’s C. Clifton Black suggests, as a cure to such (mis)reading, bringing the saints alongside us as we explore “the strange new world” we call Scripture. He takes a cue from Benedictine spirituality and encourages reading the Bible with both hospitality (welcoming strangers) and humility.
If you’ve never experienced Benedictine hospitality, you’re missing out. Following the lead of both the Bible and the Rule of St. Benedict, this vision of hospitality recognizes that in welcoming the stranger, we welcome Christ himself. This delightfully informs our reading of Scripture, for if we meet angels unawares when welcoming guests, might the Spirit also speak to us about the truth of Scripture from voices we would otherwise ignore or neglect? Thus, Black concludes:
“If like-mindedness is our overt or tacit criterion for interpreting Scripture in community, then we shouldn’t be surprised to hear only echoes of our own biases while learning little. Does the theologically liberal reader shield herself from scholarship more conservative? Does the neo-orthodox read nothing of the liberationist? For as long as members of the three Abrahamic faiths read their Scriptures only within conventicles, ignorance and mistrust are bound to proliferate. None of us holds the truth in Scripture by the ears, and none of us ever shall. Hospitable interpreters seek help in understanding Scripture wherever they can find it. ” (58)
An openness to others’ thoughts naturally tends toward taking our own ideas less seriously. The resulting – or at least correlative – humility is also a great aid to the exegete who desires her reading to be not only accurate or insightful but also an act of worship. Humility is a monastic virtue that is foreign even to many Christian ears today. Readers of Scripture, lay or clergy, novice or doctorate-wielding, would do well to remember the distance between our thoughts and God’s thoughts – and treat our interpretation of the text accordingly. Again, Black is insightful:
“Because we are frail creatures and not our own Creator, we beware of mistaking our own voice for God’s alien word. We discipline ourselves to listen more keenly, assuming our ignorance and not our knowledge. We resist a constant temptation to control other interpreters and to manipulate other voices – including those within Scripture itself. When the Lord sounds just like us – when Scripture can no longer surprise or disturb or offend us – we should be very, very afraid: it’s likely we’ve locked ourselves in an echo chamber. And if, God help us, we are entrusted with teaching others about Scripture, we should remember that we too much someday give an account of what we have said and done (Jas 3:1).”
The world has seen enough of proud, isolated, and eccentric readings of the Bible. What is needed today, for the renewal of the Church and her witness, is followers of Jesus who are able to read the holy writ well. A humble and hospitable approach to the sacra pagina holds great promise, for personal study and discipleship but especially for community worship, witness, and discernment. After all, the Bible is the book of the church, and reading it wisely means reading in a way that does not create a scandal or shipwreck with our neighbors in the Body of Christ.
Humility and hospitality don’t cover everything, but I believe they would certainly go a long way towards renewing our encounter with the God’s word, which is, “living, active, and sharper than any two-edged sword. It penetrates to the point that it separates the soul from the spirit and the joints from the marrow. It’s able to judge the heart’s thoughts and intentions.” (Hebrews 4:12, CEB) Such a gift from the Triune God’s treasury will not be opened to hearts ill-disposed to the humility and hospitality which mark a disciple of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Word from all virtue and wisdom flows.
What do you think? What other virtues are needed to read the Bible well? Are there downsides to these?
Source: Black, C. Clifton, Reading Scripture With the Saints (Eugene: Cascade Books 2014).