Guest Post

In Sunday school I colored in Jesus’ crown of thorns, brown for brambles and red for dripping blood.

It’s almost Easter, which can mean only one thing: it’s time for the blockbuster Bible bestsellers. Last week, Bart Ehrman promoted his new book, How Jesus Became God, on NPR’s Fresh Air. Ehrman advances a common argument: Christian conceptions of Jesus’ identity grew more elaborate with time. His followers first perceived Jesus as a remarkable preacher or prophet, but eventually believers came to regard him as God incarnate. Although I was aware of Ehrman’s book, I missed the publicity blitz.

In a recent issue of the Century, I interview Kent Haruf, whose novel Benediction has garnered a nomination for the newly minted Folio Prize in the United Kingdom and recent reviews in The Guardian (by Ursula Le Guin) and the Telegraph. Haruf has made a life out of fine and careful reading, as well as writing. I asked him for recommendations on five books that have helped him become more fully human.

My article in the March 19 issue tells the story of Larry Engel and Mike Breininger, two pastors in Richland County, Wisconsin, who were able to bridge a longstanding impasse between conservative and liberal pastors by beginning a conversation about their own theological and political differences. The result? A friendship between two pastors, cooperation among area pastors, and a jumpstart to initiating and sustaining needed community services. 

A few years ago I was interviewing a couple of church planters, and the conversation turned to finances. The husband-and-wife team, Juan and Cirila Lugo, had paid out-of-pocket for many expenses when the congregation began meeting. They were pleased that it had become self-sufficient enough to hire Juan full time. Cirila told me, without a hint of complaint, about writing sermons on her lunch break while she drove a delivery truck six days a week. But she didn't call herself bivocational, and rightly so.

A few years ago, my family started sponsoring a child through World Vision. I knew that the organization was generally evangelical, and that we are generally not. But this massive parachurch organization does good work, and I trusted them enough for a minuscule portion of that good work to be on our behalf. For 35 dollars a month, we’ve been contributing to the health, education, and general welfare of a little girl in Haiti, who was born the same day as our older daughter. Whatever theological differences I have with World Vision seem immaterial to this. Theological differences may be slightly more material for some of the organization’s conservative supporters.

Who is this leader who issues this warning? Do we even begin to believe that he's the Christ?

Our church is in the midst of a major transition: it’s becoming bicultural. The combined joy and pain of our growth is intense and surprising at every turn. Sometimes I wonder if this is how a tree feels when it begins to grow new branches. I often feel fatigued in advance by the complexity of the conversations we want and need to have, as well as scared of where we are going and what it will require of me. It’s at these times that I find myself contemplating the comforts of what we used to be, a monocultural church

In a booklet titled Zionism Unsettled, a group of Presbyterians has issued a blanket denunciation of Zionism, terming the Jewish quest for a homeland in the ancient land of Israel inherently racist, exclusionary, and devastating for non-Jewish inhabitants.  Jewish and Christian groups have rightly criticized the booklet for its sledgehammer one-sided approach, theologically and politically.

If you want to understand the politics of a given church, start with the kitchen: who is in control, and what conflicts arise there?

Not many people would think of being pen pals with a terrorist. But Rory Green, a Christian who lives in Nottingham, England, did. After reading about Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, whom the U.S. government believes masterminded the 9/11 attacks, Green wrote him a letter. 

“Take and eat,” Jesus said, passing the bread around. And everybody did—except for Philip, who went away hungry, for he was allergic to gluten.