Another gratuitous shot at Roman Catholicism

To a Protestant such as myself, the perpetual virginity of Mary is one of the loopier of the doctrines fabricated by Rome. As my best friend in college (now a Methodist pastor, of all things) put it, "If Mary was ever virgin, it's Joseph we should be worshiping."

As I prepare to preach Luke 2:41-52 this Sunday, it seems plausible that Mary and Joseph might have lost track of Jesus for a few hours, but for an entire day? That seems unlikely if they had only one child. If, on the other hand, they had four, six, seven or more children, any parent of two or more children can understand how the boy Jesus was able to wander off on his own, unaccounted for: Mary had to have more children than one on her hands.

Given the size of the average faithful Roman Catholic family, many of them will no doubt realize the integrity of this argument and shortly embrace Protestantism.

Antepenultimate

Because, all day tomorrow, English will need a word for "third from the end."

Glad tidings of great joy

Just under the wire, I've found a Christmas album for 2012: John Roderick and Jonathan Coulton's One Christmas at a Time, available for immediate download through the wonders of the webernet. Why it's worth your while: the long needed, but not until now composed, song about "The Week Between" Christmas and New Year, when the spirit careens between ennui and despair.

And on that note, merry Christmas!

Mary and the empty womb

“Mary” is the Anglicization of the Hellenized version of the Hebrew name “Miriam.”   The only Miriam in the Old Testament is the sister of Moses and Aaron, who plays a prominent role in the Exodus account.  Although the case cannot be proven conclusively, the name “Miriam” appears to bear some etymological relationship to “mar”, the Hebrew word for bitter.   This is further reinforced when we consider that Miriam was notorious for her and Aaron’s rebellion against Moses, precipitated by a bitter complaint (Numbers 12).   While Naomi does not call herself “Miriam” to accent her bitterness towards God, the name she does make up (Ruth 1:19) is based on the same root word.   Therefore, Naomi’s “bitter” name is simply another version of the name which would become “Mary” in the New Testament.

    Only two “Marys” (Miriam and Naomi) are found in the Old Testa ment, and both are infamous for their bitterness.  In the Gospel era, however, Marys pop up all over the place.  There is Mary, mother of our Lord;  Mary Magdalene;  Mary, mother of James;  Mary, mother of Clopas;  Mary, mother of John Mark;  and Mary, sister of Martha.   None of these women has a reputation for bitterness.  Indeed, if anything, they are well-known for remarkable faithfulness and piety.  Thus, the reason for their names must be found someplace other than in their personal characters.  Why would so many Israelite parents be naming their daughters “Bitter” around the time of Christ’s earthly ministry?

    The answer can be found in a consideration of redemptive history.  The last writing prophet of the Old Covenant Era, Micah, prophesied that the Day of the Lord was coming, on which the sun of righteousness would rise with healing in his wings (Malachi 4:2).  Four hundred years had passed, during which Israel waited eagerly for one like Elijah to come as a herald for this Messiah (Malachi 4:5-6).   Four hundred years is a long time to wait.  Many, no doubt, began to wonder if their hope was in vain.  I am reminded of a line from Langston Hughes:

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?

    Hope denied very quickly sours into frustration.  The dream of the Messiah seemed endlessly deferred.  Israel became bitter in her frustration, naming her daughters “Mary.”

    Mary, the mother of Jesus, is thus representative of all Israel.  Figuratively speaking, she is the bitter barren woman.  Recall the recurrent Old Testament theme of the empty womb.  Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Hannah all were barren, and each consequently experienced some degree of bitterness.  Naomi’s bitterness also grew out of her empty womb, although her childlessness was the consequence of her sons’ deaths, along with menopause (Ruth 1:11-13).  In each case, these women were barren because the Lord had withheld conception from them, and each one had to wait on the Lord to open her womb.  

    The empty womb, then, represents the bitterness of frustrated hope, along with the requirement to wait on the Lord to reverse the situation and bring blessing.  Mary’s virgin womb was empty, symbolizing the bitterness of Israel, which was without her promised Messiah.  Just as a virgin cannot conceive a child by herself, Israel could not create her own Savior.  The nation would have to wait patiently for the Lord to send the Christ, just as a virgin must not become bitter, but instead wait patiently for the Lord to send children to her.

    The empty womb motif is a type, a prefigurement, which finds its fulfillment in the birth of Jesus.  When Israel’s Redeemer came through her, Mary became Pleasant, singing songs of praise to the Lord (Luke 1:46-55).  As she represented a ll of Israel, Christ’s birth is surrounded by exclamations and songs of thanksgiving from many (Luke 1:38, 41-45, 67-79; 2:13-14, 29-32).  With the Advent of Christ, Judah became a pleasant land again.  Mary, as she represents the bitterness of Israel, was prefigured in the bitter Naomi, who was made truly Pleasant when a redeemer was born to her, through Ruth (Ruth 4:14-15). 

    The meaning of the symbolic pattern of barrenness in Scripture thus becomes clear.  When the Lord opens the empty womb, he provides not merely a child, but a redeemer.  Its implications for you should also be obvious.  The Lord will reverse your bitterness through Jesus Christ, the Redeemer he has given to you.  In Christ alone shall your life be made pleasant and sweet.

Holiday cheer

For the second year in a row, I've not found any Christmas albums about which to get excited. The flagship compilation is Holiday Fun, featuring the usual list of hipster musicians and sold by (at least) Amazon, eMusic, and Starbucks, giving it ubiquity; however, it lacks any notable or innovative contributions. Tracey Thorn offered Tinsel and Lights, which maintains her Everything-but-the-Girl post-Ben Watt's electronica phase middle-age melancholy: satisfying song-writing, but not much for holiday cheer. I've also been downloading some Johnny Cash Christmas albums from Freegal, but lest's be honest: this isn't the work for which he'll be remembered.

This year, I recommend you save yourself some money and go to Noisetrade. There, you will find Fireplace Songs and the Paste Holiday Sampler to just as satisfying as anything for which you'd shell out shekels this year.

On the upside, I found a new Christmas beer! The famed Spoetzl brewery of Shiner, Texas, is now offering Holiday Cheer, a "Dunkelweizen brewed with Texas peaches and roasted pecans." I last enjoyed wheat beers around the time I wed Mrs. Curmudgeon (I remember drinking Samuel Adams' Summer Ale during our July honeymoon), but Holiday Cheer has none of the yeast and granular feel on the tongue to which I object. Maybe it's the darker wheat, or maybe it's the peach sugars, but it's refreshing and, simultaneously, bold enough to stand up to other winter ales. I recommend drinking it all by its lonesome in order to appreciate the complex interaction of the flavors.

Get a six-pack of Holiday Cheer, and you may not need a ground-breaking Christmas album.

An excuse to freak out

Today I heard David Stuart, the archaeologist who translated the Mayan tablet which pegs December 21, 2012 as the end of an important cycle in time, but not the end of the world, explain the late hoopla thusly: "I think in our culture, too, or maybe globally — humans like to come up with excuses, sometimes, just to freak out."

And while we're on the subject of unnecessary freaking out:

 

Veneration of saints or of Christ (Calvin's Institutes, Battles edition: pp. 673 [vol. 1])

To refute the practice of selling indulgences, Calvin goes after the papist doctrine of the "treasury of merit," which holds that the saints have performed more good works than they need to satisfy their own accounts, these "supererogatory" or extra works go into a treasury, and the riches of this treasury can be dispensed to less worthy Christians on the authority of the pope of Rome. If the merits of Christ can be intermingled with the saints, Calvin asks,

What is this but to leave Christ only a name, to make him another common saintlet who can scarcely be distinguished in the throng?

The same question, it seems to me, can be asked more directly regarding the entire practice of venerating the saints in general and the Virgin Mary in particular. When considering popular Roman Catholic piety, I find it rather difficult to distinguish Christ from the throng.

Maybe if Juan Diego of Guadalupe could paint a really cool mural of Jesus...

Vengeance vs. chastisement (Calvin's Institutes, Battles edition: pp. 658-669 [vol. 1])

Given that the title of Book III, chapter IV is "How Far from the Purity of the Gospel Is All that the Sophists in their Schools Prate about Repentance; Discussion of Confession and Satisfaction," I went into it expecting some choice put-downs of Calvin's whipping-boys, the Scholastics and Peter Lombard, but not a whole lot of positive teaching on the doctrine of repentance. Cheerfully, however, I've discovered the exposition of error can lead to some helpful clarification.

Towards the end of the chapter, Calvin takes up a matter which perenially troubles believers: namely, whether we should expect God to punish us for our sins in this lifetime. Building primarily on Augustine and Chrysostom, Calvin points out that the wicked experience punishment for their sins in this life, but the children of God experience chastisements from their heavenly Father. These latter cannot be punishments because Christ has already paid full satisfaction for our sins. A summary of his argument comes in section 33.

But the children are beaten with rods, not to pay the penalty for their sins to God, but in order thereby to be led to repentance. Accordingly, we understand that these things have to do rather with the future than the past. I would prefer to express this thought in the words of Chrysostom rather than my own: "On this account," he says, "he imposes a penalty upon us–not to punish us for past sins, but to correct us against future ones."

7 Things a Pastor's Kid Needs from a Father

I well remember Bill Shishko, pastor of Franklin Square OPC in New York, saying that there's nothing in the Bible which puts pastors in a separate category from all other husbands and fathers. To that can be added this useful essay from a pastor's kid, Barnabas Piper, on the Gospel Coalition site.

The inconsistent curmudgeon

Try as I might, I find it very difficult to maintain an appropriately dour presbyterian demeanor when Tiger Cubs are JUST SO CUTE!!!

Just 8 more days until Christmas. I should be better soon...