My Next Book—On Abraham and Job

I just received my finalized contract from Baker Academic for my next book. I signed the contract and sent it in a couple of weeks ago, and the counter-signed contract arrived yesterday.

The book is tentatively entitled The Silence of Abraham, The Passion of Job: Explorations in the Theology of Lament.

A Comparison of Abraham and Job

The focus of the book would be a comparison of Abraham’s ominous and silent attempt to sacrifice his son in Genesis 22 (known in Jewish tradition as the Aqedah or “binding” of Isaac) with Job’s outspoken challenge to God in response to his sufferings (which God finally affirms as “right” speech, at the end of the book).

I’m planning to work on the book over my next sabbatical, which begins in the summer of 2016. During the sabbatical, I will be presenting my research as the Thiessen lectures at Canadian Mennonite University in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and also as Visiting Theologian-in-Residence at St. Barnabas’ College and St. Mark’s National Theological Centre, both in Australia (where I’ll be for four weeks).

The book would be framed by the important question of how Christians, who believe and trust in the God of heaven and earth, may respond to suffering. Given that the lament or protest psalms provide model modes of prayer in situations of suffering, the book would challenge traditional Christian interpretations of Genesis 22 and the book of Job. Whereas Abraham’s blind obedience in Genesis 22 to God’s command to sacrifice his son is typically seen as virtuous, God’s response to Job is usually thought to be a divine put-down for his audacity in challenging God’s running of the cosmos.

Some Exegetical Questions

Among the exegetical questions to be addressed in the book are:

  • Why does Abraham shift from bold protest prayer on behalf of Sodom in Genesis 18 to ominous silence about the death of his own son in Genesis 22?
  • What is the significance of the phrase “dust and ashes,” which occurs in the Bible only on the lips of Abraham (in Genesis 18) and Job (in Job 30 and 42)?
  • In what sense is the term “God-fearer” applied both to Abraham (in Genesis 22) and to Job (in the first two chapters of the book)?
  • Could the book of Job be thought of as a commentary on the Abraham story?
  • If so, what are we to understand by this inner-biblical interpretation?
  • And what are the implications of the differing responses to suffering of these two “patriarchs” (one Jewish, one gentile) for our understanding of faithful prayer in the face of suffering in the church today?

A Spirituality of Suffering

The book will draw on relevant teaching I have done on Genesis and Job and on academic papers I have presented on Genesis 22 and YHWH’s speeches in the book of Job.

But my engagement with Abraham and Job would not be geared to a purely academic outcome. This engagement is in the service of developing an honest, yet trustful, spirituality of suffering that could empower God’s people with hope in their daily lives, as they face a world full of chaos and pain.

Videos of my three Thiessen lectures on the lament psalms, Abraham, and Job are now available.

Birthday Reflections on (Almost) a Year of Blogging

I started blogging in mid-February 2014. So I really should wait another month to reflect on the past year. But today is my birthday, so I think it’s appropriate to take an opportunity to look back.

A Posture of Gratitude

I am, first of all, grateful to God for the gift of life—this fragile, contingent existence we have as human beings, subject to all the ups and downs of joy and suffering. Despite the difficulty, which often accompanies the joy, I receive every moment (and another year) as a gift.

I am grateful also for the gift of salvation through Christ. It is amazing that the incomprehensible Creator of the universe should enter human existence and suffer death so that death would be overcome and we can participate in the renewal of life that comes with resurrection—a renewal that begins even now, with the ultimate hope of a new heaven and a new earth.

And I am grateful for the continuing presence of God’s Spirit—in my life, in the life of my family, my friends, my church, and my seminary (all of which are signposts of grace and means of support in a life that cannot be lived in isolation).

So I am aware, at this milestone in my life, that the essential posture of healthy existence is gratitude, a response of openness and thanksgiving to our loving Creator and Redeemer, who continually calls us into newness, often through other people.

I am specifically grateful for my loving wife, Marcia, who has been a faithful friend and partner on a life journey that has had many twists and turns. And kudos to my two sons, Andrew and Kevin (both in their twenties), who have figured out a great deal about life and have become their own persons. I am immensely grateful to God for the gift of family, both near and far.

And I am a part of an amazing church, the Community of the Savior, whose commitment to the ancient-future Christian faith sustains me and empowers me for a life of ministry.

I thank God for the opportunity I have had to teach over the years at different institutions—first at the Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto while pursuing my doctoral degree; then at Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School for six years; then ten years of teaching undergraduates at Roberts Wesleyan College; and now the last (almost) four years at Northeastern Seminary (NES).

I’d have to say that NES is simply the best environment in which I have ever worked. I have many wonderful students and amazing faculty and staff colleagues; and my Dean, Doug Cullum, is specially gifted by God with theological insight, deep compassion, and organizational skills par excellence (and he is also one of the pastors at my church; not sure how he does it all).

And it was Lisa Bennett, Associate VP for Communication & Enrollment at NES, who prompted me to begin blogging.

Blogging

Blogging—right. I was going to talk about that.

The first thing to say is that blogging has turned out to be just a hard as I thought it would be when I wrote my first post on the difficulty I foresaw in blogging as an introvert.

But it has also been rewarding. Through this website (and the various social media sites that this blog is linked to) I have been able to get into contact with friends and colleagues from the past and I’ve met lots of new people who share similar interests.

The biggest problem with blogging is that it is extremely time-consuming. Maybe some people can just knock off a few comments and post them without much thought. But I tend to agonize over what I’m going to say; writing a blog post takes a long time (especially if it is a content post, and not just an announcement). And then I edit, edit, edit. And then I edit some more.

When I look back at my second blog post (“Creation to Eschaton—And the Kitchen Sink?”) in which I suggested the topics I expected to post on, I see that I have accomplished only some of my predictions so far. I have posted on topics of creation, evolution, suffering, doubt, redemption, and the eschaton. But I certainly haven’t addressed all the specific issues I listed there. And I haven’t talked much about Caribbean theology (except in telling some of my life story). The good news is I haven’t run out of ideas for blog posts; I have lots of topics left to discuss (and new ones constantly arise).

I’m also aware that I began two multi-part book reviews (one on Bruce Glass’s Exploring Faith and Reason, the other on Ron Osborn’s Death Before the Fall) that I have not yet completed. I hope to get to those shortly.

I’m also interested in suggestions and questions from readers of this blog that might lead to other topics (some have already given me ideas for new posts that I want to write in the coming year).

So, for now, one last note of gratitude: Thanks to all my readers; I value your interaction (either through posted comments or emails).

So here’s to another year; I pray that my posts might stimulate and encourage you in your life, your thinking, and your faith.

The Role of Doubt in the Journey of Faith—Living with Unanswered Questions, Part 4

My first two posts in this series addressed some of the unanswered questions I have; and my last post focused on what it takes to embark on the quest for truth. Here I want to suggest that doubt can have a positive value in the life of faith.

When I think of my own life, a prime example of unanswered questions concerns God’s guidance (or seeming lack of guidance) at crucial junctures in my faith journey.

A Faith Crisis

My most significant faith crisis came when I was around thirty, during a time of great difficulty in my life. Many external supports had failed (it’s a long, complicated story) and I was in the throes of a personal and vocational crisis. I wondered what I was living for, and why God had (seemingly) placed me in such an intractable situation—or, at least, why God had allowed me to get into such a situation. It was as if my life had hit a dead end.

I didn’t doubt God’s existence, but God’s rather goodness. I found that it’s difficult—if not impossible—to pray when you don’t, in your bones, believe that God really has your best interests at heart. So over a period of time I found that I simply stopped praying.

The Lament Psalms

What started me praying again was my discovery of the Psalms, particularly those psalms known as the psalms of lament, or complaint, or protest. These psalms make up about one-third of all the Psalter; they’re the largest single group of psalms in the Bible. These psalms honestly challenge God with the suffering the psalmist is going through, often even accusing God of doing terrible things (like Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”). And they forthrightly ask God to intervene and change the situation of suffering.

It was only when I was able to pray that darkest of all lament psalms, Psalm 88, and then preach a sermon on that psalm at the memorial service of a young woman who had just died of cancer, that I found I was able to pray again.

A New Understanding of God

And now, I have a very different view of God, as one who is willing to hear us out fully when we’re honest about our difficulties—including our doubt—and who accompanies us in our sufferings (even in our doubt).

Through the psalms of lament I was brought back to the core truth of the Christian faith that God—through the cross—has suffered with us and for us, more than we can ever imagine. This is not a God above the fray, but one who knows the depth of human evil and suffering—from the inside. And this God is willing to graciously host our honest questions.

Loving the Questions

Beginning in those dark times, when no clear answer was in sight, I learned to “love the questions themselves,” as Rainer Maria Rilke put it.

In his Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke pleaded with the young man to whom he was writing (back in 1903) “to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.”

Been there; done that.

Rilke goes on to suggest to the young poet that he not even try to search for answers yet.

I’m not sure I would (or even could) follow that particular advice.

But Rilke is surely wise when he continues: “And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

I’m not sure I’ll ever get all my questions answered. But the asking of them has been significant for the person I’ve become and am still becoming.