Questions Worth Asking

I don't remember many worship services from my childhood days. But I do remember communion Sundays. I remember them because they were infrequent in those days (six times a year, I believe). I remember them because the service was sure to go long (10:55!). I remember them because I loved to look down the long pews of our sanctuary and see arms lifting and heads tipping in one beautiful, unified motion as the adults in our congregation received the body and blood of the Lord. Their unity in that moment reminded me of the way bows would move together in an orchestra.

But the other thing I remember about communion is peering at the shiny silver trays as they passed me by. Sometimes I would get to touch them or help pass them. But usually not. In the CRC in which I was raised, the Lord's supper was something for adults. Children were not invited.

As I'm sure many of you know, discussion in recent* years in the CRC has suggested that we change that. Synod has now suggested that it's okay--even important--for children to participate in the Lord's Supper. But this makes some of us (understandably )nervous. After all, we've "always" done things this way. And if was good enough then, why isn't it good enough now?

Well, I have my own answers to that question. But I'd like to help all four of you who read this blog come to your own conclusions. So here are some questions I think you need to answer for yourselves in order to develop a theologically informed position on this matter.

• Our discussion ought to start with baptism: What actually happens to a child in baptism? What's the main event? How does baptism relate to membership in God's family (if at all)?
• What is the relationship between baptism and communion?
• What are some of the central "happenings" in the Lord's Supper (I assume there is more than one)? Is it primarily an act of remembrance on our part? A way for God to nourish us? Something else?
• To phrase the previous question another way: who is the primary actor in the sacraments? Is the Lord's Supper (and for that matter, Baptism) something that God does for us, or something that we do for God?
• What is the relationship between the "old" signs of the covenant (i.e. circumcision and the Passover Feast) and the "new" signs of the covenant (Baptism and the Lord's Supper). Does the place of children in these "old" ceremonies suggest anything about their appropriate place in the "new"?
• What "body" is Paul referring to in 1 Corinthians 11? How might reading this passage as referring to the "body of believers " affect what we do at the table?
• How does the gift of the Lord's Supper strengthen us and build us up as followers of Christ? How might it do the same (or be different) for our children?

I think this ought to be enough to get you started. If you'd like to read what (I think) are some well thought out answers to these questions, as well some questions you may not have thought to ask (like the history of this issue) check out the latest issue of the Calvin Seminary Forum. (Also available at church. Ask me if you'd like a copy.)

*Walt A. , our expert on all things syndoical and church order, informs me that this discussion has actually been going on for over twenty years. That's long enough that I actually could have participated in the Supper as a child if my church had been up to speed on the latest Synodical decisions.

Revelation

A week or two ago, someone at church handed me a copy of Jon Krakauer's book Under the Banner of Heaven. The book looked interesting, but after glancing at the cover, I wasn't sure I wanted to read it (just yet). You see, I've just read some other books that are rather disturbing (namely: "King Leopold's Ghost") and wasn't sure I was ready for what Krakauer had to offer: an investigation into the murder of a young mother and her daughter at the hands of two brothers, Dan and Ron Lafferty--two Fundamentalist Mormons who carried out the killings after receiving (they claim) a direct command from God.

Well, Jill was gone last week and I found myself with a little extra time on my hands and nothing to read. So I grabbed Under the Banner of Heaven and dug right in. I'm glad I did.

The book was fascinating to me because Krakauer didn't just tell the story of the murder. Instead, he chose to dig into the "roots of their crime [which] lie deep in the history of an American religion practiced by millions"--Mormonism. Krakauer gives a fairly detailed history of Mormonism (and more specifically, the underbelly of the Mormon Church--Mormon fundamentalism) and, occasionally, pauses to apply his observations of Mormonism to religion in general.

One particular aspect of Mormonism/religion that seems to fascinate Krakauer is the idea of "revelation". And with good reason. After all, when Joseph Smith founded the Mormon Church 170 years ago, it was on the basis of a (alleged) revelation from the Angel Moroni (near Jill's hometown of Palmyra, NY, by the way). During the following years, Smith (and his followers) reported countless revelations/interactions with God detailing everything from where they should settle to what they should drink to whom they should marry to when the Civil War would begin. Krakauer's fascination with religious revelation is also understandable because (as I mentioned above), it was on the basis of a Revelation from God that the Lafferty brothers committed their murders.

From my perspective, Krakauers discussion of the Mormon Church, the Lafferty Brothers, and revelation stirred up two related thoughts.

First: What is it that leads Mormons to believe, so fiercely, that they have indeed had revelations from God? As a Christian, I don't (necessarily) doubt the possibility of God communicating with individuals. But I DO (as a Christian) presume that at least 97% of the supposed revelations received by Joseph Smith and his followers are in fact false. So what are we to make of this (and for that matter, the "revelations" received by adherents to other religions)? Are these individuals simply deluded? Have they been duped? Do they just have a bad case of indigestion? Or have they actually heard "voices", but mistaken the voice of God for the voice of someone/thing else? How do we explain this phenomenon?

The second point, related to the first, concerns the "Revelations" that we claim to be true as Christians. Because, make no mistake, even if we don't believe that God communicates directly with individuals anymore (a hotly debated question in some circles), our religion is nevertheless a revealed one. It's a "revealed religion" because, even though we can deduce some general truths from reason/nature (e.g. "God Exists), ultimately, we need the Revelation of Scripture (and the Person of Jesus Christ) in order to show us the full truth.

So, that being said, how do we know that our "revelations" can be accepted as from God? How do we know that we're not crackpots, misguided zealots, or just plain gullible people who have been duped? How do we know that we can trust the apostle Paul, Matthew Mark and Luke, Moses, Isaiah, and the other writers?

This has actually been a question that has troubled me for some time. And after reading Krakauer's book (and let's face it, sometimes after reading Scripture itself), it's easy to see why people might be skeptical. But regrettably (in my opinion), this is one area in which it's hard to get to a real nuts and bolts, "rational" answer. Sure, we can point to things like historical/archeolotical evidence and manuscript studies--but these only take us so far. At some point, I think we simply have to believe it because, well, we believe it. It's a matter of faith. It's a matter of the Spirit's testimony in our hearts. It's a matter of trust. We believe the Bible because the Bible (and the Spirit) says we can believe it. It is a vicious circle, and probably not the most satisfying answer to skeptics (Christian or non*), but thus far, it's the best answer that I can come up with. Anyone smarter than me have a better one?

*Krakauer, a self-proclaimed agnostic, would likely shake his head at disgust at my answer. In the prologue of his book, he writes: "Faith is the very antithesis of reason, injudiciousness a crucial competent of spiritual devotion." Krakauer also adds this rather provocative charge: "when Religious fanaticism supplants ratiocination, all bets are suddenly off. Anything can happen. Absolutely anything. Common sense is no match for the voice of God--as the actions Dan Lafferty vividly attest." (xxiii)

Inside Joke

This week, I've been reading Richard Mouw's book Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport. It's a fine book written in an engaging style that avoids overly technical and cliche explanations of Calvinism's "Five Points" (AKA: "TULIP") and their broader implications.

There are, of course, many mysterious elements in this "system" of belief." One of these mysteries is raised by the "P" in "Tulip"--"Preservation/Perseverance of the Saints". This doctrine states that, by God's grace, those who are "in " the Kingdom will always be "in. There is nothing they (or any other force/factor) can do to cause God to let them go. It's a fine doctrine of great comfort, as far as I'm concerned, but the natural question that it raises is how people who appear to have had genuine faith can appear to lose that faith. Hence Mouw's little joke (and apologies if this is only amusing to seminary/pastor types):

Four theologians are standing alongside a train stopped between stations. They are looking at a dead body beside the tracks, arguing about what happened to the person. The Lutheran said he jumped from the train and was killed by the fall. The Catholic said he must have been pushed. The Methodist insisted he fell accidentally. But the Calvinist said that if he was really off the train, then he had never been on it in the first place!

ba-da-bump.