"To obtain a bird's eye is to turn a blizzard to a breeze."

-Brandon Boyd, Incubus

19 April 2010

Romans 10:13


                I was young. 13 years, that is, and working at a Christian summer camp in Port Orchard, Washington. We hosted a weekly concert for the campers, and this week was the stellar Christian rock band, Autumn’s Fire. I loved their acoustic sound, their charming biblical references and the fact that the lead singer could make an uncanny Chewbacca noise in the microphone. I had decided that I loved Autumn’s Fire, so I bought their CD and had them sign it after the show. The bassist (whom I had not even noticed behind Chewbacca), signed, “Romans 10:13,” and his name…Amos whatever. Awed by this pearl of wisdom, I immediately referenced the verse and committed to memory. “For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved,” it says. So that is how I lived my life, until it completely screwed me over.

                Ehrman says that “those who believe in Christ have been made right with God and will be saved from the wrath of God that is coming upon this world (5:1-11). They will also be delivered from the reign of God’s mortal enemy, death, which entered into the world through the disobedience of Adam, Christ’s counterpart, but which has now been conquered by Christ’s own act of obedience (5:12-21)” (271). One might interpret that this means Jesus has saved humanity from having to deal with the cosmic power of sin, in order to more easily access salvation through God. Upon further review, I would agree that Romans 10:13 assures us of the same fate: if we choose to accept Jesus’ saving of our sins, we can be free of sin and death.

                But, at 13, I completely misconstrued those few words in Romans 10:13. After the “turn the other cheek” Catholic upbringing I’d experienced, I understood Christian salvation—and thus, life on Earth—as allowing others to hurt, harm and do what they please with you, while you turn the other cheek, call out to God, and eventually experience some kind of salvation. Oh, how this confusion of the message destroyed me! I grew laterally from 13 into the biggest pushover humankind has witnessed thus far, which ended with devastating consequences and lessons definitely learned the hard way. Upon reviewing Romans, I don’t see Paul advising against self-defense or social diplomacy. In fact, God is particularly “righteous” in Paul’s works, saving those who reject the confines of the Law and choose to accept Jesus’ sacrifice.

                Word to the wise 13 year-olds out there: Paul’s message in Romans, particularly chapter 10, verse 13, does not imply that anyone should lay across (figurative) train tracks, allowing the forces of sin and death to destroy them, awaiting God’s saving power. Instead, Paul asks us to fearlessly (and confrontationally, as in the case of the Romans!), proclaim the good news of Jesus’ sacrifice to begin the process of eternal sin removal. Now, a much smarter--but still extraordinarily dumb—18 year-old, I feel I have transformed from a adhering-conscious Jew to a stronger Roman, interpreting and awaiting more signals while defending myself and my faith on Earth.

22 March 2010

Reflection Paper #4-Forgiveness

Mary C. McAleer
23 March 2010
Dr. Ardy Bass
New Testament 120
Reflection Paper #4

A great theme of the New Testament is forgiveness. I’m sure some would argue that forgiveness is the greatest theme, period. However, I’ve always struggled with this idea, since forgiveness—a hopelessly abstract noun—is ridiculously hard for me to understand. Forgiveness is so tough; it requires that: 1. I must be sorry, 2. whomever I am apologizing to must care enough about me and/or the situation to accept my apology, 3. they must be kind enough to forgive me, and 4. I must be willing to never commit the injustice again. Holy shit, that’s too many complicated emotions for me! And yet, it seems as though we ask and give forgiveness many times every day. Reading Luke I feel as though Jesus offered a different kind of forgiveness than we use. We often hear the phrase, “Jesus came down from Heaven to forgive our sins.” What does this mean! Did you ever hear Him say “I forgive your sins” to every single person? Absolutely not! Jesus actively forgave in a way that gave the people a more literal second chance.


In the parable of the Barren Fig Tree, the poorly producing fig tree will be cut down, until a man says “ ‘Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and shall fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future. If not you can cut it down’” (Luke 13:8-9). One of the farmers, therefore, is offering the fig tree a second chance. Karris mentions that the fig is a valuable and savored fruit, so chopping down a fig tree would require throwing away a great deal of potential. However, the first farmer feels no hesitation in doing this, since the tree hasn’t produced a fig in the past. The second farmer has faith in the fig tree, that it will produce a valuable fig in the future with some extra care and a second chance. Luke then offers a more practical example in which Jesus sets a woman free of her “infirmity” in Luke 13:10-13.


Ultimately, I feel like Jesus’ actions and purpose represent the same forgiveness in the fig tree parable. Forgiveness as we know it repairs an evil or wrong action that we’ve committed, but Jesus’ forgiveness does not fit the four-step model I’ve constructed in the Introduction above. Instead, Jesus, like the farmer, offers a second chance to those that he saves, in hopes that they’ll produce good “fruit” in the future. As supported by Luke in the Fig Tree Parable and the Crippled Woman story, Jesus has faith that we are good people capable of good future actions. So, now we ask, is this what our forgiveness means? When we apologize, are we really promising to change our wrong actions in the future? Are we promising not only to correct our wrong actions, but to produce good, fruitful actions instead? And in forgiveness, are we confirming our trust and faith in those we are forgiving. Did Jesus do this? Perhaps. Perhaps the potential dichotomy between Jesus’ forgiveness and our forgiveness shall remain undefined for now. It’s abstract, anyway!