A Living, Breathing Bible

In our church Bible studies this week, we looked at John 8:1-10, which chronicles the story of the woman apprehended "in the very act of adultery."  I'm not going to spend time today dealing with the various curiosities within this pericope.  But I want to make an observation about the entirety of the the narrative.   

That observation is that these verses appear in a variety of formats in the several English translations that I consult.  Some versions have these verses in brackets [ ].  Others present the story in italics.  Some have verses 1-2o in a smaller font.   Yet others omit the reading from the body of the text altogether and include it as a long footnote.  In each case, there is a footnote that says something like "these verses are not contained in the oldest manuscripts" or "some ancient authorities omit these verses."

When these notes are pointed out, that observation confuses some people, and even threatens a few.  Many church folks understand scripture to be static, being written in a particular place and a specific time, then being preserved unchanged forever.  Even a brief look at much of the Old Testament and the New Testament demonstrate that this is just not the case.

I am kind of heartened by such an example.  The idea that scripture has an aspect of being a living, breathing, adapting thing helps accentuate its relevance to me.  It has the exact opposite effect than being threatening or confusing or faith-opposing.

So, thank you, biblical translators, for presenting the content and the intent of The Word of God.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

The Name Game

I have been thinking about John 21:1-19, which is the gospel reading for the week according to the Revised Common Lectionary.  As I have noted, this reading is chock-full of significant items both great and small.  There are the teachings that are grand in scope.  But there are also little nuggets that are worth our consideration as well.

One such piece of material is in the exchange between Jesus and Simon Peter in verses 15-17.  Three times Jesus asks this disciple, “Do you love me?”  And three times this disciple responds in the affirmative.  After each of the disciple’s responses Jesus gives a piece of direction: ‘Feed my lambs.’ ‘Tend my sheep.’ ‘Feed my sheep.'

Obviously, there is a lot in play here.  Historically the church has interpreted Jesus' three-fold questioning as being a response to Simon Peter’s three denials of Jesus during the time of Jesus’ arrest.  The church has also looked to this passage – and others – to find out about Simon Peter’s role in the organization of the early church. 

But there is a little something else there, and I emphasize “little.”  But I don’t mistake little for insignificant.

In each instance, Jesus' inquiry is, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”  Part of what interests me here is not the inquiry, but the address.  The narrator tells us, When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter…  Throughout the narrative the storyteller refers to this disciple as “Simon Peter.”  Yet Jesus himself begins each question, “Simon, son of John.”  I don’t think that is an accident.  Nor do I refer to it as being without meaning.

In chapter 1 verse 42, when Jesus and Simon first meet, Jesus says, ‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas’ (which is translated Peter).  Yet here Jesus refers to Peter by his former name.  Everyone knows Simon, John’s son.  Jesus gives him a new name.  Such a thing always reflects a major transition in scripture.  Abram become Abraham.  Sarai becomes Sarah.  Jacob became Israel.  Later, Saul of Tarsus will become the apostle Paul.  The change of name mirrors a transition in role or significance.

And Simon came to be known as Peter.  The writer of the Fourth Gospel refers to the apostle usually, but not exclusively, as Simon Peter, although he occasionally just uses Peter as the name.  "Simon” is not a reference that this writer uses.  But here, here Jesus asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”  I think that the address is as much a challenge as the question.  It is as if Jesus is saying, “Simon, when I met you, I gave you a new name.  It bespoke of your place as my disciple, my apostle, my witness in the world and as one who would speak with my authority once I departed.  So, Simon, are you worthy of that new name.  Will you be Peter?  Will you be the rock upon which I establish my church?”  The thrice-asked question and a triad of addresses are really saying the same thing: “Simon, do you love me so that you can be my rock?  Will you take up again the mantle of Peter that you have cast aside?  Will you leave behind the fish and truly fish for people?”

When Simon says, “Yes,” he is really affirming both.  He is saying, “I will feed, tend, feed."  

"And I will be Peter.”

The anointing at...?

Yesterday I commented on the gospel lection from the Revised Common Lectionary for the fifth Sunday in Lent.  The lesson is John 12:1-8: the anointing at Bethany.  I observed, “When we read this account, the story sounds familiar, and yet some of the details seem – what else to call it – wrong.  That is due in part to the fact that all four gospels contain a similar story.”

The stories are at the same time remarkably familiar and significantly different.  I don’t say this as a mere intellectual exercise, or as someone caught up in minutiae.  The trappings of these accounts can make remarkable differences in the meaning of the tales.

Mark 14:3-9 and Matthew 26:6 tell the story in essentially the same words.  The event happens two days before the Passover in Bethany, in the home of Simon the Leper.  During the meal an unnamed woman opens an alabaster jar of “valuable perfume made with real nard” and pours the perfume on Jesus’ head.  An unnumbered group of unnamed disciples protest, saying the perfume could have been sold and the proceeds could have benefited the poor.  Jesus defends the woman.  Then he echoes Deuteronomy 15:11:  Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbour in your land.’ (NRSV)  He interprets the act as an anointing for his burial, which unbeknown to his audience is in just a couple of days’ time.  Jesus concludes by saying, Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.  (NRSV)

Luke tells a story (in 7:36-38) that occurs much earlier in Jesus’ public life.  It takes place during Jesus’ Galilean Ministry.  In an unnamed town in that region Jesus is eating a meal in the home of Simon the Pharisee.  While Jesus and the others are at table a woman, who is characterized as “a sinner,” approaches Jesus with an alabaster jar of perfume.  She first weeps on Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  Then, she anoints his feet with the perfume.  Jesus perceives the disapproval of Simon and tells his host a parable of two debtors, one forgiven a great deal and the other a small debt.  He then says something a bit confrontational: Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  This story concludes with Jesus extending forgiveness of sin to the woman.

  

That brings us once again to the Fourth Gospel.  Here, the Evangelist reports an occurrence six days before the Passover, once again in Bethany.  As I observed yesterday, textually the meal may or may not have been in the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha.  But here Mary of Bethany – clearly identified – comes to Jesus with “a pound of perfume made from real nard.”  She anoints Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  It is Judas Iscariot alone who condemns Mary for the extravagance.  The gospel writer characterizes Judas as a thief who coveted the money for himself.  Then the writer reveals the value of the gift (300 denarii).  Jesus defends Mary with almost the same words that he uses in the similar story in Matthew and Mark: “Leave her alone.”  Here, too, he evokes Deuteronomy and its observation on the poor.  Then, he re-interprets the act of Mary in a little more detail than the other writers.  He again states that this anointing has prepared him for his burial – though again, his contemporary audience is unaware of the immediacy of the event.

Commentators go ‘round and ‘round with this.  Any two accounts have marked similarities.  But, no two records are identical.  Rather, they have profound differences one from another.  Where?  When? Who?  Head or feet?  Why?  It would take a long time to plumb the questions, much less to begin to offer satisfactory conclusions.

I believe that one of the bits of genius – and mystery – of these accounts is that each writer, under inspiration, takes a core bit of material and weaves it into his own narrative for a purpose that may be much larger than the occurrence itself.  Is it about penitence and forgiveness?  Well, yes.  Is it about an offering of homage, perhaps on behalf of all to whom Jesus comes?  Of course.  Is it an act of thanksgiving for mercies extended by Jesus – including the resuscitation of a brother?  Does this include an affirmation of faith that may have been somewhat lacking earlier (“If you had been here, my brother would not have died!”).  I think so.  But each writer tweaks the core truth in such a way that its circumstance and significance reflect each writer’s large proclamation.

Do we have just one story? Yes… and no.  Are there three different stories?  Again yes… and no.  Are we right in the middle of them all?  Oh, yes.

I remember a story about Mary...

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) suggestion for the gospel reading on the Fifth Sunday in Lent (today) is the account in John 12:1-8 of the anointing of Jesus at Bethany.  The story tells of Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha and Lazarus, as she anoints Jesus’ feet with “a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard.” (verse 3)

Reading this account, a couple of things happen.  First, the story sounds familiar, and yet some of the details seem – what else to call it – wrong.  That is due in part to the fact that all four gospels contain a similar story.  Matthew and Mark tell (in almost identical language) of an event that happens in Bethany in the House of Simon the Leper.  Luke tells of a meal in the Galilean ministry of Jesus in the home of Simon the Pharisee where a “sinful woman” anoints Jesus' head with oil and then washes his feet with her tears and dries them with her hair.  John places the story in an anonymous home (though one could make the textual argument that it is the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha) in Bethany.

I will come back around to some of these things later.  But here, I want to make the observation that in only one of these tales the name of the woman appears.  And it is in today’s reading, from John.  As I have said, the woman is Mary of Bethany, sister of Lazarus and Martha.

The identity of the woman is important to the story, and also to a better overall understanding of many accounts in the New Testament.  This is because at times it is like there is a Mary behind every rock and tree in the gospels.  Popular perception identifies many of the “sinful women” of the gospel stories as Mary Magdalene.  This is a terrible disservice, as there is no gospel reading that disparages this Mary.  Jesus exorcised many demons from Mary Magdalene.  After this she was one of the women who financed Jesus’ ministry.  She was an onlooker at the crucifixion of Jesus.  And, depending on which gospel account you read she was one of four, or three, or two or was the sole witness to the empty tomb on Easter morning and was a/the recipient of the resurrection announcement from the angel(s).  At no point do any of the gospels point an accusing finger at Mary Magdalene.

Of course, there are others.  We start with Mary the mother of Jesus.  There was Mary the mother of James and Joseph (from Matthew 27:56). There is “the other Mary” (from Matthew 28:1) who may or not be the same woman named in Mt. 27:56).  Mark 15:40 speaks of Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, again perhaps this is the same woman, or then again, perhaps not.

As for some of the other stories, the woman “caught in the very act of adultery” in John 8 is anonymous in the text.  Likewise, the “sinful woman” in the house of Simon the Leper in Luke 7 is without a name in the gospel.  Many other women sometimes receive the name Mary in our telling or re-telling the stories, but that reporting is frequently in error.  The woman at the well, the woman with the issue of blood, the Syro-Phoenician woman – none of these are Mary Magdalene, nor any other Mary, nor women whom the gospel writers name at all. 

It is the variety of participants in these accounts that help give them their power.  Jesus’ did not manifest his glory to a few, to an “inner circle” of hand-chosen individuals.  He was merciful to all, no matter what their station, and no matter what their name.  In Mark 14:3-9 (& Matthew 26:6ff) Jesus tells the folks who witness the act of this unnamed woman who extended such kindness to him that Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.  I daresay that, in light of this, it behooves us to get the story right.