First Blessings

I have been in conversation lately with a heretic. I do not use the word “heretic” in a demeaning manner, but in the technical sense of one who holds and teaches heterodox ideas that have been formally anathematized by the Church. My interlocutor is a member of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, a group who denies the divinity of Christ and of the Holy Spirit, among other grievous errors. Many of their ideas are Arian in nature and were anathematized along with Arius at the Council of Nicaea. Each time we, in orthodox churches, confess the Nicene Creed, we denounce such heresy.

It all started when Ed — not his name, but a convenient pseudonym — sent a three page letter to the parish asking us to reconsider, and reject, “the Trinity Doctrine.” What followed was a congeries of biblical references, erroneous exegesis, spurious quotes, and a grand exercise in missing the point. I do not know what possessed me to respond. I have received such letters in the past and simply recycled them. But, this time I did respond, and I am glad I did.

Ed was surprised to receive my response, he wrote. For some years he has been sending this letter to churches — he mentioned Roman Catholic churches in particular but has now evidently expanded his reach to Anglicans — and only very rarely has he received any response. I suggested that an orthodox church receiving his letter would be like the chair of a university astronomy department receiving a letter from someone wanting to promote a flat earth model. That notion was debunked as early as the third century BC by Eratosthenes; there is no need to revisit or reconsider it or spend time debating it. The Trinity is established Church doctrine; there is no need to revisit it and we really have nothing new to add beyond the truth promulgated by the Creeds. So, I am not surprised that he receives few responses. That, of course, did not deter him in the least because he is convinced that the Church and the Creeds are in grave error. So, no appeal to orthodoxy, no appeal to the Church, no appeal to the consensus reading and understanding of Scripture will suffice. All these have been in error for nearly two thousand years, error finally discovered and rejected by the Jehovah’s Witnesses in the last hundred years. It is possible, I suppose, but it is a hard sell.

I was struck by the notion that Ed and I do not have the same Scriptures, and not just because the Jehovah’s Witnesses have their own translation worded specifically to support their heretical views. Even if Ed and I could agree on a common translation, we read Scripture so differently that we have, in effect, a different text. I read Scripture with the Church; Ed reads in opposition to the Church. Ed rejects the Trinity in part because the specific word “trinity” does not appear in the text. I accept the Trinity because I see Father, Son, and Holy Spirit throughout Scripture, in both Old and New Testaments. Ed ignores texts that clearly show the consubstantiality of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and he is convinced that I ignore texts that identify the Son as a created being and the Holy Spirit as a “thing” and not a Person. We do not have the same Scriptures because we do not have the same way of reading our common texts. Nothing I say could ever convince Ed of orthodox doctrine. Nothing Ed says could ever convince me to abandon orthodox doctrine. We were at an impasse from the off. Finally, after three pleasant but futile exchanges, I told Ed that our conversation was stalled, and that I did not plan to continue it. His final response left the door open if I ever wanted to contact him again. It is not likely, and I’m sure he knows that.

What do I make of all this? Ed seems to be a nice guy, someone you would be happy to have as a neighbor. I learned that he is eighty years old, that he has been married for fifty-eight years, and that both he and his wife are former Roman Catholics. What led them to become Jehovah’s Witnesses I do not know. I think Ed is wrong — I’m convinced he is — but I have no reason to think him evil in an ethical sense. I generally close my letters with “Blessings.” I could not do that with Ed because I cannot bless his work, his mission of spreading the heresy of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. So, Ed falls in that interesting intersection of Heretic and Neighbor, a good guy in grave error, a good guy who can nonetheless do serious damage unintentionally.

I realize also that Ed and I could never have a true conversation on these matters simply because conversation requires the possibility of changing one’s mind. Any discussion of religious matters would not be honest conversation but veiled — perhaps thinly veiled — evangelism. We might agree to avoid certain topics, but once broached at all honest conversation is out the window, at least related to core matters of the faith, to matters of orthodoxy and heresy. I am happily closed minded with respect to orthodoxy. A mind should be open only ’till it has closed upon the truth. Both Ed and I would agree on that.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

The Underlying Condition: The Law, Sin, and the Yoke of Christ
(Zech 9:9-12, Psalm 145:1-13, Rom 7:21-8:6, Matt 11:25-30)

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A sermon like this is something of a fool’s errand; that needs to be said and understood up front if for no other reason than to lower your expectations. Let me explain the difficulty by analogy. Imagine an extremely complex computer program running to a hundred thousand lines of code. Out of that, someone selects a small subroutine of some hundred lines, hands it to the programmer, and asks her to explain it. Well, the subroutine performs a certain function that, in theory, can be described straightforwardly. But, it does what it does and means what it means only in terms of the whole program. To really understand the part, you need the programmer to walk you step by step through all the hundred thousand lines of code so you see the subroutine in the proper context of the whole program. To focus only on the subroutine is probably to misunderstand both the part and the whole.

It is like that with St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. Paul is mounting a very dense and complex argument from start to finish. Each section of the text functions as a subroutine in the whole tightly nested theological “program.” Each part means what it means only in terms of the whole. To select a few verses, like our lectionary does today, to present them to a poor, hapless preacher, to expect him to make perfect sense of them in twenty minutes is, well, it is a fool’s errand. I’ll do my best, but don’t get your hopes up. As Lewis Grizzard titled one of his books, “Shoot low boys, they’re riding shetland ponies.”

There is a common plot line in television medical dramas from Dr. Kildare to Marcus Welby, M.D., passing through ER and House, showing up in Gray’s Anatomy and Brilliant Minds and The Pitt. There are as many variations on it as there are programs, but the basic theme is simple. A patient presents with a life threatening illness, one with strange and complex symptoms that make the diagnostic work particularly challenging. The patient continues to decline — death seems imminent — until the midpoint of the episode when the doctor or plucky intern finally discovers the obscure malady and administers the life-saving medication. Little does the doctor know what we know: the show is only half over; it is too early for the patient to recover. Oh, no: the patient crashes and starts lurching down the tunnel toward the bright light at its end right at the mid-episode commercial.

What’s wrong? Was the diagnosis in error? No, the clinical results are clear and compelling; there is no question about the diagnosis. Was the wrong medication given? No, there was no mixup at the pharmacy; the medication and the dosage were both correct. Could the medicine itself be contaminated with something? No, the manufacturer has an excellent quality control process. We viewers check the clock. We are forty-five minutes into the show now; they have to come up with something soon unless this is a two-part episode.

Just when all seems lost, one of the doctors asks, “What if there is some underlying condition — totally unrelated to the disease we are treating — that makes the medication ineffective or even toxic?” And, that’s the answer; that’s always the answer. As soon as the doctors discover and treat that underlying condition, the patient makes a miraculous recovery and all is well until next week. Cue the closing credits.

Now, to St. Paul and his epistle to the Romans. St. Paul lived at the intersection of two worlds: Jewish and Gentile. He insisted, in keeping with the vocation he had been given, that these two worlds belonged together in the Church — Jews as Jews and Gentiles as Gentiles and both groups together as one body in Christ — that to separate them was to pull the Church out of shape and ultimately to deform and even to deny the Gospel. If the Gospel were not powerful enough to reconcile the ancient enmity of Jews and Gentiles, how could it possibly be powerful enough to reconcile all men, indeed all creation, to God? This issue — the role of the Jews in the redemption of the world and the full inclusion of the Gentiles in that redemption — was never far from Paul’s mind, nor absent from his letters. We too often try to read Paul in terms of Reformation questions, in terms of our personal salvation. And while that is not wrong, it is secondary and too small; it is a subroutine of a much larger, more complex, far grander program — God redeeming, renewing, and reconciling all creation to himself through his faithfulness to the covenant he had made with Abram and his descendants. We are saved by God, in and through Christ, only because Christ is the fulfillment of that covenant.

God made the covenant first with Abram, and then renewed it through successive generations: with Abraham’s son Isaac and with Isaac’s son Jacob, whose name God changed to Israel. But, the most dramatic ratification of the covenant came some four hundred thirty years after it was first established, came when a not yet but soon to be nation of recently freed slaves gathered for the first time at Mount Sinai to appear before their God. It was there that God gave the Law to Israel as the nation’s covenant charter, not to supplant the covenant, but to embody it in faithfulness, obedience, and righteousness. The Law was given to a vast family who knew nothing but slavery, who had come of age in a land of foreign gods and foreign customs, who knew more of death than of life. They were sick — terminally ill — in ways beyond their understanding. Torah — the Law — was their medicine. Through it they would learn what it meant to be the people of God: to love God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love their neighbors — particularly the widow and orphan and stranger — as themselves. And in that, they would find life. In that, they would become God’s holy people — a kingdom of priests — and God would become their God.

But, when this medicine of the Law was administered, the people got worse, not better. Over generations, Israel turned from their God toward the idols of the nations around them. Over generations, Israel ignored the social imperatives of the Law to free slaves, to restore land to its ancestral owners, to care for the poor, to show mercy to widows and orphans and strangers. Over generations, Israel put their faith in faithless kings and in military and political alliances with the foreign powers that be — even Egypt — instead of in the God who had delivered them from slavery, given them their land, and promised to be with them forever. And there was turmoil inside their borders and threats outside their borders. The kingdom divided. The ten northern tribes were conquered, exiled, and lost. The two southern tribes held out a bit longer but were themselves conquered and exiled. They returned to the land later, in much diminished form, where their continued existence was always tenuous. The patient took the medicine of the Law and got sicker until the patient was near death.

Why? This is a historical and a theological conundrum that St. Paul grapples with in Romans. Was there something wrong with the Law? Did God make a mistake in prescribing it? Was it too much or too little, too strong or too weak? Did that which was intended to bring life actually bring death?

No, nothing is wrong with the Law: no mistake in prescribing it, no mistake in its administration and dosage. Then, just as in our medical dramas, the problem must be an underlying condition that is stirred up, worsened, and revealed by the Law — something that must be dealt with first before the Law can bring life. And there is. For Israel, the underlying condition is sin: sin that dwells in flesh and bone, in heart and mind, in thought and emotion; sin that stirs up passions that captivate and compel those under the Law to disobey the Law; sin that makes the medicine of the Law toxic to those who receive it.

This is what St. Paul says, writing in the first person — “I” — as the personified representative of Israel under the Law:

13 Did that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was sin, producing death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to be sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. 14 For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. 15 For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. 17 So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me (Rom 7:13-20).

The Law is rendered powerless to make Israel righteous, not because the Law is bad, not because Israel thinks the Law is bad, not even because Israel does not want to follow the Law, but because Israel is united with Adam in the effects, power, and slavery of sin. Sin dwells in the very flesh and bone of Israel and renders the people incapable of obeying the Law. In fact, the Law stirs up sin so that it might become sinful beyond measure. What Israel wants to do, it cannot do. The medicine of life is bringing death. Sin is something akin to an autoimmune disease in which the body turns on itself, destroying itself from within. So, Paul cries out in the voice of Israel:

21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 23 but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death (Rom 7:21-24)?

Unless sin is dealt with — unless the power, the toxicity of sin is destroyed — the prognosis will be death and the patient will surely die.

So, where have we gotten so far? Israel, whom God has chosen to be his holy people, the people through whom he will redeem the world, Israel is infected with the consequences of Adam’s disobedience and is subject to sin and death. The Law, which is good and life-giving, only stirs up those passions through Israel’s captivity to sin; Israel is powerless to resist. The Law, which is good, is bringing death because of sin. Sin must be dealt with and the Law cannot empower Israel to deal with it.

The medical metaphor has been useful to get us here, but to continue it would strain it beyond its capacity. With gratitude, we leave it behind now to speak more directly. Sin has to be dealt with. The Law cannot do it. So God himself intervenes to destroy the power of sin, to free Israel and to empower Israel for righteousness. God himself intervenes to deliver Israel from its body of death. God himself intervenes in the person of Jesus Christ our Lord. Thanks be to God!

To the Jews who were condemned to death by sin acting through the Law, St. Paul now proclaims:

1 There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. 2 For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. 3 For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, 4 in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit (Rom 8:1-4).

This is the Gospel, that God has acted in Christ to set free those enslaved by sin and death to live not according to the law of sin and death but according to the law of the Spirit of life. God has done what the law could not do; God has done what nothing else and no one else could do. The only sinless son of Adam, the only perfectly righteous son of Abraham, the only-begotten Son of God drew unto himself in his very flesh all the sin of the world and there, in the flesh of his Son, God condemned sin, God broke its deadly power through the death of his Son. God condemned sin in the flesh of Jesus. God did not condemn Jesus, the archetype of all men, but rather sin in Jesus, so that all men might be free.

The toxic power of sin has been broken. Those enslaved to the passions have been emancipted. The Spirit of life and righteousness has been poured out. Those who set their minds on the Spirit — as it is now possible to do! — will know life and peace. This is the Gospel that Paul offered to the Jews and not to the Jews only, but also to the Greeks; for God is not the God of the Jews only, but also of the Greeks (cf Roman 3:39). This is not just the Jewish story, though it was first theirs. This is the human story. Though the Gentiles were never under the Law, they were — we were — bound under sin and subject to death. Though we knew God we did not honor him as God or give thanks to him. Instead, and therefore, we became futile in our thinking and our hearts were darkened and hardened. We spiraled downward into idolatry and perversity, we exchanged that which is natural for that which is unnatural, we embraced our passions and gave our approval to others who did likewise. We deserved to die and we made a covenant with death: all of us, every one of us, Jews and Gentiles alike. We labored like the dumb ox under the yoke of slavery to sin and death, a yoke on the neck that neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear (cf Acts 15:10). We labored under that yoke until there came the great good news of the Gospel, first to the Jew and also to the Greek:

1 For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery (Gal 5:1).

Though General John Stark meant something different when he penned the state motto of New Hampshire — Live Free or Die — the words ring true here. Christ has set us free from the yoke of the law and sin. We will either live in that freedom or else return to bondage under sin’s yoke and die. We will either live in that freedom or else be crushed under the load of sin’s yoke and die. As the general Confession at the Eucharist in our historic Prayer Book (1662) has us say:

We do earnestly repent, And are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of them is intolerable.

The yoke of sin is grievous and intolerable. It will wear us out and then crush us if we continue to carry it or abandon our freedom and return to it. And so, our Lord Jesus, the one who bore the yoke for all creation and was indeed crushed under it, the one who fell under the weight of the cross, the one who rose again victorious invites us:

28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:28-30).

There is great paradox in this invitation. The yoke that Jesus bids us take up — the one he assures us is easy and light — is none other than the cross.

24 Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 25 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. 26 For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul” (Matt 16:24-26)?

We have the choice between two yokes, and we must bear one or the other: the yoke of sin and death in the Law or the yoke of freedom and life in Christ. No matter which we choose, we die. But the difference between the two is great. Only in the yoke of the cross do we die in Christ. Only in the yoke of the cross do we rise again to new life in Christ. And in that assurance we find rest for our souls, the certainty that the law of the Spirit of life has set us free in Jesus Christ from the law of sin and death.

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen.

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT?

It was a lovely day at the park: hot, but shady and comfortable enough sitting on “Pumpkin” my favorite bench donated in honor of a good dog who loved the park. I had a new C. S. Lewis compilation with me — “A Mind Awake: An Anthology of C. S. Lewis” — but I wasn’t really reading it. I had just finished preparing a difficult lesson at church and I wanted to clear my head before heading home. The park is a good place for that I find.

Pumpkin is beside the greenway track that runs through the park and a few people passed by sporadically.

One young woman passed me, walked on a few yards, turned around and came back. “What were you thinking about when I passed by?” she asked me. “Honestly, I was praying,” I said. “What about you? What were you thinking about?” So began our conversation.

“I was thinking about how all humans are connected with one another,” she said, “but we never seem to notice. We don’t talk to one another, so I decided to stop and talk with you.” A fair bit of courage, that is.

I asked E. to tell me about herself. I will call her E., the first letter of her first name, though I actually asked her name only at the end of the conversation.

E. turned twenty-seven last week. I told her I turned sixty-nine yesterday and we wished one another a happy birthday. She told me that she is in AA and is three years sober. I congratulated her and gave glory to God for her sobriety; that is no small thing. She wanted to talk about God — that much was clear — but she didn’t quite know how or where to start. Knowing just a little about twelve step programs — knowing that they speak of a “Power greater than ourselves” (Step 2) and “God as we understood Him” (Step 3) — I asked her to tell me about that greater Power, about that God as she understood Him. E. spoke vaguely and hesitantly of God as an energy and then quoted Barry Taylor: “God is the name of the blanket we throw over mystery to give it shape.” In other words, sitting on this bench in a local park, I found myself amongst the Areopagus atop Mars Hill speaking to an honest seeker after the unknown god.

I am not very good at evangelism or apologetics. But, I can hold up my end of a conversation and I can mention Jesus now and again. E. had many questions. Now, this is the interesting part: many of her most pressing questions were about those issues I had spent the morning thinking about, praying about, and writing about. Kairos: I had started to forego time in the park this day, but something (someone?) had reminded me that I needed such time for my spiritual sanity. So I went. So I met E. So I could show her the Gospel in her twelve steps. So I could speak to her not about a vague energy or blanket but about the God who created her simply so that he might love her. So I could point her to Jesus.

There was no conversion, but there was a good conversation and we parted grateful for it.

Of your mercy, will you please take a moment to pray for E. and for her boyfriend. Both are in recovery — aren’t we all? — and both are looking for Jesus though they might not recognize it yet. And I know Jesus is looking for them.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Introduction To The Apocrypha: Sirach, Part II

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

40. FOR ALL SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN

O God, the creator and preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men; that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health unto all nations. More especially we pray for thy holy Church universal, that it may be so guided and governed by they good Spirit, that all who profess and call themselves Christians may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. Finally, we commend to thy fatherly goodness all those who are in any ways afflicted or distressed, in mind, body, or estate, [especially those for whom our prayers are desired]; that it may please thee to comfort and relieve them according to their several necessities, giving them patience under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions. And this we beg for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.

Introduction

Last week, Fr. Jack gave a good overview of Sirach and explored with you three of the major themes in the first half of the book. Today, I plan to do something of a deep dive on a small body of text in the second half of the book: one complete chapter, Sirach 38, and a portion of another, Sirach 44. I want to do this because these passages are included in the Anglican lectionary readings and because I find them personally meaningful and pastorally helpful. I would like us to begin each of the major topics with a prayer.

Sirach 38:1-15 Physicians and Health

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

50. FOR THE MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS

Almighty God, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ went about doing good, and healing all manner of sickness and disease among the people: Continue in our hospitals his gracious work among us; console and heal the sick; grant to the physicians, nurses, and assisting staff wisdom and skill, diligence and patience; prosper their work, O Lord, and send down your blessing upon all who serve the suffering; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

You are at a dinner party or sharing a meal with friends at a restaurant. Frankly, the potatoes are bland and need a bit of salt. But, the salt shaker is out of reach. What do you do?

There are a few options, I suppose. You could eat the unseasoned potatoes or else leave them and turn your attention to the green beans instead. You could stretch out and reach for the salt shaker with a mumbled “Pardon me.” You could simply say to the one nearest the shaker, “Would you pass the salt, please?” Are there any other reasonable options?

What about prayer? Something simple would do: “Dear Lord, please season these tasteless potatoes,” or “Heavenly Father, please prompt Joe to ask if anyone would like salt and pepper.”

I have never offered such a prayer: have you? It’s not so much that I consider it trivial, but rather that I consider it unnecessary. I can get the salt for myself or through the agency of a friend; I do not need God’s direct intervention. That doesn’t discount God; rather it acknowledges that God seems to delight in working through human agents, in giving the agents powers of discernment and the ability to manipulate the world. God could accomplish everything directly, but he sets his image bearers to work instead: to tend and order the world, to create art and music and machines, to build buildings and dams and rockets, to help ourselves and to serve one another. Of course, even when using our God-given agency, we should pray for wisdom and skill, for the right use of our powers. We should pray that all we do would be to God’s glory and to the welfare of his people. And then, we should act as we are able. What we can do — provided it is good and right and God-honoring — generally we should do.

There are other situations, though, where the only real agency we have is prayer. I don’t say that at all to diminish prayer. We long for peace in Ukraine and in Iran, for justice and mercy in Gaza, for the sad divisions in the Church to be healed. We want the Ebola outbreak in the DRC to be quelled. We hope for rain for drought stricken farmland and for a dry, high pressure system to move in and spare the waterlogged areas in upper East Tennessee, Virginia, and Kentucky any further flooding. We make these matters the content of our prayers because they are out of our direct control and are in God’s hands. Our agency is prayer. We have influence, but not control.

But, there are many matters that lie somewhere between control (Pass the salt.) and influence (Bring peace in our time, O Lord.). A hurricane forms in the Gulf of Mexico and heads toward New Orleans. I would expect the residents to exercise a measure of control through boarding up windows, sandbagging houses, and evacuating flood prone areas. And I would expect the residents — certainly those who are Christian — to exercise influence through prayer and fasting, asking God to calm the storm or to divert it from populated areas. For reasons whose details are unknown to us, sometimes God answers such prayers and spares cities and sometimes he does not. Ours is simply to do what we can through physical actions and through prayer and then to commit all things to God.

The point of all this is that God has given us, his image bearers, real agency in the world: agency that sometimes involves a certain degree of direct manipulation and control, that sometimes involves almost solely the influence of prayer, and that most frequently includes both action and prayer.

What about health and illness? Where do they fall on this spectrum: more toward “pass the salt” or more toward prayer? Honestly, that seems to depend on the seriousness of the illness or injury, doesn’t it? If a get a splinter in my finger, I’m most likely just to pull out my Swiss Army knife and dig the splinter out, because I can. If the finger gets infected — hot, throbbing, painful — I might go to the doctor. If the infection spreads and enters the bloodstream, I might be hospitalized, and I’ll certainly put my name on the prayer list. In each of these scenarios, prayer is appropriate, from “Lord, thank you that this splinter is gone,” to “Lord, please ease my pain and heal this infection,” to “O God, make speed to save me; O Lord, make haste to help me.” And always, “Thank you, Lord,” because all healing comes from God. There are a range of appropriate responses to illness, and each of these responses is given to us by God to be used wisely, with discernment, and with thanksgiving. That is the topic of the first of the three sections of Sirach 38.

Let’s begin with the most fundamental notion: healing comes from the Most High (Sir 38:2a). It may come in various forms and through different direct agents — which is what this section explores — but all healing is ultimately from the Lord.

What/who are these other agents of healing? Read Sir 38:1-8.

A. Physicians: Sir 38:1-3

B. Medicine: Sir 38:4-5 (ref to Ex 15:23-25)

C. Pharmacists: 38:6-8

So, what are we to do when we find ourselves sick? Read Sir 38:9-15.

A. Pray to the Lord for healing: Sir 38:9

B. Repent and worship: Sir 38:10-11 (cf James 5:13-16)

C. Seek the physician: Sir 38:12-15

Of course, we face this reality: medicine doesn’t always work, physicians often cannot cure and certainly cannot do so indefinitely, God doesn’t always answer our prayers for healing as we’d like, and, those we love die. Sooner or later, we all face loss and grief. How do/should we respond? That is what Sirach deals with next in this chapter.

Sirach 38:16-23 Mourning for the Dead

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Almighty God, Father of mercies and giver of comfort: Deal graciously, we pray, with all who mourn; that, casting all their care on you, they may know the consolation of your love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I need to acknowledge that this topic of mourning/grief is a sensitive one, especially because so many among us have suffered loss recently and are still grieving. We need to approach this reverently and compassionately because it is holy ground. In this portion of the lesson I am not attempting to offer pastoral care or grief counseling. It is not necessarily what I would say to those who are mourning at any given time or in any given circumstance, though I would likely draw from the wisdom of the text. It offers some good principles and general guidance that must be applied individually and pastorally. It is also pre-Christian, and does not reflect our hope of resurrection. Still, the church finds value in its teaching and commends it to us for our use.

Let’s read Sirach 38:16-23 and then consider its most basic themes.

What themes did you notice?

A. It is appropriate to grieve, to express pain through lament (Sir 38:16-17a).

B. It is appropriate to honor the body with proper ceremony and ritual (Sir 38:16b). As Christians, we are neither materialists (matter is all there is) nor Platonists (the body is disposable and only the immortal soul matters). Christians understand — or should do — the human person as the union of body and soul. The body matters and should be honored. We bury our dead with the rites of the church. And, our telos (end) is not to live as disembodied souls in heaven, but rather to live as a union of resurrected bodies and souls at the intersection of heaven and earth. Jesus is our model. Upon his death, his body was honored and laid out with the brief ceremony possible, with fuller reverence to follow. And, three days later, the women and the apostles didn’t claim that his soul had gone to heaven leaving his body behind, but rather that he — body and soul — had been resurrected. And that body was clearly continuous with his earthly body; it carried the scars. It was also transcendent beyond a human body; it could appear behind locked doors. When a Christian dies we honor the body, we lament its falling asleep, and we look for its resurrection in a way we cannot fully comprehend at this time.

C. So far, so good: grieve, honor the body with appropriate ceremony. But now this word: do not linger overlong in your mourning (Sir 38:17-18, 20). I might put the principle this way: do not prolong mourning, do not cultivate it or cherish it so that it becomes the core of your identity. It is appropriate and necessary to grieve, but then it is essential to begin to move through and beyond it to reestablish a life not centered on grief. Sadness will linger, of course, and will periodically strike unexpectedly perhaps for the rest of one’s life. But, it must come as an interruption of life and not become the basis of life.

Sirach 38:24-36 Trades and Crafts

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

O Lord Jesus Christ, in your earthly life you shared our toil and hallowed our labor: Guide those who maintain the commerce and industries of this land, and give to all who labor pride in their work, a just reward, and joy both in supplying need and in serving you; who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, world without end. Amen.

In 1913, a young, poor, self-taught Indian mathematician named Srinivasa Ramanujan sent a sample of his mathematical work by letter to G. H. Hardy in England, the third finest mathematician in the world by his own estimate. He probably was. Ramanujan was seeking recognition of his work — which was absolutely original and astounding — and, just as importantly, he was seeking leisure. By leisure he meant a stipend, the financial freedom to spend all his time doing mathematics. He simply couldn’t do such work at that level if he had to devote his time to making money just to survive.

We see something similar in the musical Fiddler On the Roof, when the milkman Tevye sings his prayer to God, a prayer to become a rich man. Here’s an excerpt:

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
“If you please, Reb Tevye…”
“Pardon me, Reb Tevye…”
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi’s eyes!

And it won’t make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong.
When you’re rich, they think you really know!

If I were rich, I’d have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.

And I’d discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.

But, Tevye couldn’t do those things; he was busy feeding cows and milking cows and delivering cows’ milk to the townsfolk. He didn’t have time to become a scholar of Torah and so no one would ask him for advice or judgment.

This is exactly the tension presented in Sirach 38:24-34. Let’s read those verses.

Wisdom, by which Sirach means knowledge of the holy books and the wisdom that comes from such study, depends on leisure. Those working with a plow all day or carving signets or hammering iron at the anvil or shaping pottery at the wheel — these simply do not have the time to devote to study, so they will not be sought out by the people for counsel, they will not attain public eminence, they will not sit in the judge’s seat, they will not expound discipline or judgment.

Before we move on, let’s contextualize this a bit. The labor and craftsmanship that Sirach mentions were essentially all-consuming; they simply did not permit leisure time necessary for study, so he is contrasting those people with leisure to those without. It is still that way in many places today, where the struggle for survival dominates everything else. I suspect this is true for many of the working poor in our country, for those who work two or three jobs, 80 plus hours each week, just to make ends not quite meet but at least to get them within waving distance of one another. But many professionals, those who work 40-50 hours/week have more leisure than Sirach could have imagined. And we have ready access to education, to books and podcasts and instructional videos. Even if we can’t become “experts” in the holy books, we can become proficient in them. We can’t use our occupations as an excuse for neglect of things holy. So, we temper what Sirach had to say with our different cultural context.

Back to the text. Sirach contends that the two occupations he mentions — scholarship and labor — are different, but he doesn’t elevate one over the other. This is, to me, the beauty of this section: the great value and dignity Sirach accords to work. Let’s read Sirach 38:31-34.

Without them — those who work with their hands — a city cannot be established; they keep stable the fabric of the world. When your toilet is clogged, who is more valuable to you, a plumber or a philosopher? When you are hungry, who has greater value, a farmer or a theologian? To elevate one group over another — scholars over laborers or vice versa — is a foolish and false dichotomy. Both occupations are honorable and necessary, each in its own time and way.

Sirach does close this section with a notion that is worth considering further. Sir 38:34 says this about those who work with their hands: their prayer is in the practice of their trade. What do you think about that sentiment that says essentially work is prayer? We might contrast that to the Benedictine motto Ora et Labora, prayer and work, which gives the twin poles of the Benedictine monastic vocation: not work is prayer, but work and prayer.

In what ways can work share the spirit of prayer? How can we make work more like prayer?

Sirach 44:1-14 The Honored Dead

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

125. FOR THE SAINTS AND FAITHFUL DEPARTED

We give thanks to you, O Lord our God, for all your servants and witnesses of time past: for Abraham, the father of believers, and Sarah his wife; for Moses, the lawgiver, and Aaron, the priest; for Miriam and Joshua, Deborah and Gideon, and Samuel with Hannah his mother; for David, King over Israel; for Isaiah and all the prophets; for Mary, the mother of our Lord; for Peter and Paul and all the apostles; for Mary and Martha, and Mary Magdalene; for Stephen, the first martyr, and all the martyrs and saints in every age and in every land. In you mercy, O Lord our God, give us, as you gave to them, the hope of salvation and the promise of eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, the first-born of many from the dead. Amen.

Barack Obama officially opened the Obama Presidential Center on the South Side of Chicago on 19 June (Juneteenth) this year. Many former presidents have such “libraries” which seem to me about equal parts historical preservation and legacy building, not unlike the great civic works projects and monuments ancient emperors used to build for the sake of their names. This isn’t a critique of presidential libraries or those who build them; I visited the Carter Center in Atlanta several years ago and FDR’s Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia; I found both places fascinating. I’ve never been to Chicago. If I get there one day, I’ll try to visit the Obama Presidential Center.

I mention this to get us thinking about honor and legacy. Who are the people that our culture honors? Whose legacy persists?

Now, let’s ask the same questions about the Church? Who are the people that the Church honors? Whose legacy persists?

On its calendar the Church honors those of “heroic virtue,” the universally recognized historic figures, saints, martyrs, defenders of the faith, theologians, writers, artists, poets — all those who have left behind a influential legacy of faith. It is good and right that the Church does this. These are our exemplars. These are the ones to whose witness we aspire. These are the ones we remember and honor on All Saints’ Day, when we “sing the praises of famous men, our ancestors in their generations” (Sir 44:1), and we read these words from Sirach 44:

44 Let us now sing the praises of famous men,
our ancestors in their generations.

2 The Lord apportioned to them great glory,
his majesty from the beginning.

3 There were those who ruled in their kingdoms,
and made a name for themselves by their valor;
those who gave counsel because they were intelligent;
those who spoke in prophetic oracles;

4 those who led the people by their counsels
and by their knowledge of the people’s lore;
they were wise in their words of instruction;

5 those who composed musical tunes,
or put verses in writing;

6 rich men endowed with resources,
living peacefully in their homes—

7 all these were honored in their generations,
and were the pride of their times.

8 Some of them have left behind a name,
so that others declare their praise.

These are the “somebodies” of the faith, the notable ones, and we bless God for them. But not many of us are or will be counted among them. We probably won’t appear on any Church calendar with a feast day. I’m a “nobody.” I just hope to live long enough for my granddaughter to remember me, but beyond that I’ll be a cipher, a name only if even that much. I will take my place among those mentioned in Sirach 44:9.

9 But of others there is no memory;
they have perished as though they had never existed;
they have become as though they had never been born,
they and their children after them (Sir 44:9).

What is the value of a life like that, one that will end as if it had never been at all? If Sirach ends here and there is not “but” that follows, this is a pretty gloomy take on life, isn’t it? Thankfully, he doesn’t end here, and, in what follows, he even seems to contradict his premise that one can perish as if one had never existed. He writes:

10 But these also were godly men,
whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten;

11 their wealth will remain with their descendants,
and their inheritance with their children’s children.

12 Their descendants stand by the covenants;
their children also, for their sake.

13 Their offspring will continue forever,
and their glory will never be blotted out (Sir 44:10-13).

It is not important that a person is famous. What is important according to verse 10? More important and lasting than fame is godliness and righteousness. I am convinced of this, that what we do matters. When we sin, we send ripples out through the spiritual cosmos that may have effects generations from now on people we will never see and in places we may never know. Our sin doesn’t stop with us. But, I am convinced that the same is true of righteousness. An act of faithfulness, a righteous deed, a bit of mercy given, a prayer offered: all these send tidal waves through the vast spiritual ocean and are preserved, multiplied, and used by God in the renewal of the world in ways we cannot begin to imagine. They affect our children, our children’s children, and generations of descendants and strangers to come. Such righteousness will never be blotted out. The unknown life matters as much as the life of the famous.

There is a song by Sara Groves that captures this well: Generations. Here’s a bit of it.

I can taste the fruit of Eve
I’m aware of sickness, death and disease
The results of her choices are vast
Eve was the first but she wasn’t the last

And if I were honest with myself
Had I been standing at that tree
My mouth and my hands would be covered with fruit
Things I shouldn’t know and things I shouldn’t see

Remind me of this with every decision
Generations will reap what I sow
I can pass on a curse or a blessing
To those I will never know

To my great, great, great grand daughter
Live in peace

To my great, great, great grand son
Live in peace (Sara Groves, on the album Conversations, 2004)

There are no insignificant lives and no insignificant acts within those lives. You may not be famous, but you matter, and what you do helps to shape the world.

Then Sirach closes this introduction to ancestors with this:

14 Their bodies are buried in peace,
but their name lives on generation after generation.

15 The assembly declares their wisdom,
and the congregation proclaims their praise (Sir 44:14-15).

This is the part that seems to run counter to Sirach’s assertion that he is speaking of those of whom there is no memory, of those who perished as if they had never existed. Perhaps it’s the case that Sirach has returned in thought to the beginning of the chapter and is talking about those famous men of great glory. But, I’d like to propose another possibility. What if the assembly, the congregation, that remembers and honors these “nobodies” is not the assembly of Israel at all, but rather the Communion of the Saints in which the “nobodies” have taken their place when their bodies are buried in peace? The Lord knows and remembers. The saints know and remember. Nothing good is ever in vain. Every work of righteousness, everyone who works righteousness is remembered and honored forever. This notion informs the prayer we offer for all the faithful departed.

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

114. FOR ALL THE FAITHFUL DEPARTED

Almighty God, with whom the souls of the faithful who have departed this life are in joy and felicity: We praise and magnify your holy Name for all your servants who have finished their course in your faith and fear; and we most humbly pray that, at the day of resurrection, we and all who are members of the mystical body of your Son may be set on his right hand, and hear his most joyful voice: “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” Grant this, O merciful Father, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our only Mediator and Advocate. Amen.

Closing

These two chapters are “apocryphal” texts that the Anglican Church has found worth reading in public worship for example of life and instruction of manners and also for pastoral care. Do not despise human agency in the world — medicine and doctors for example — but rather utilize them in conjunction with prayer, for all good things come for God. Mourn the dead and honor them; but don’t forget to live. Respect the scholars and the great men and women of the world; but remember that it is “ordinary folk” — plumbers and carpenters and secretaries and teachers and artisans and grocery store clerks — who keep the world running. Remember that during COVID theology professors were not essential personnel, but the checkout clerks at Kroger were. That is Sirach’s perspective. And lastly, remember that every good and righteous life matters, that every good and righteous deed matters; none will be lost in the great Communion of Saints.

IX. OF ORIGINAL OR BIRTH-SIN
Original Sin standeth not in the following of Adam, (as the Pelagians do vainly talk;) but it is the fault and corruption of the Nature of every man, that naturally is ingendered of the offspring of Adam; whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the flesh lusteth always contrary to the Spirit; and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God’s wrath and damnation (The Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion 1571, BCP 2019, pp. 775-776, emphasis added).

Every person born into this world deserves God’s wrath and damnation? The only refutation needed of this Reformation (mis)understanding of human nature is a granddaughter.

EXORCISM IN BARNES AND NOBLE

I almost feel a bit guilty. Two young girls are sitting near me in the Barnes and Noble Cafe. Between them is a deck of tarot cards. They are talking and giggling as one consults the cards and a book and says to the other, “Well, either love will come your way or has already come your way — I can’t really tell.” In the recent past — well, at least in my lifetime — you had to go to Alcoa Highway to Miss Renee’s to get a psychic reading, not that I ever did. But I did pass by her place everyday for decades. Now, friends get together to pursue divination in the local bookstore.

I almost feel a bit guilty. Why? Sitting near them I made the sign of the cross and prayed over them the minor exorcism of St. Anthony of Padua both for their protection and for the cleansing of place:

Ecce Crucem Domini;
Fugite, partes adversae!
Vicit Leo de Tribu Juda, Radix David, alleluja!

Behold the Cross of the Lord;
Begone all evil powers!
The Lion of the Tribe of Judah, the Root of David has conquered, Alleluia!

I do not expect the “reading” to be successful.

MEASURING UP

I met a young man today who is searching for a church. In previous weeks he has visited both a local Orthodox and Roman Catholic church; today it was Anglicanism’s turn. Our meeting was brief and I did not have time to discuss his background or what he is looking for. But, I admit that I wondered during our service how we imperfect representatives of Anglicanism were measuring up. What boxes did we check? Which did we leave empty?

Our service today was a rather “ordinary” one here at the beginning of Ordinary Time. And yet, perhaps because of that brief conversation in the narthex, I was more aware than ordinary of the magnificent liturgical tradition of Anglicanism. It is not only that I believe the Anglican Church to be part of the one, holy, catholic and Apostolic Church. I also find it finely balanced between Word and Sacrament. I find its liturgy to be true to the ancient faith and beautifully expressed in both traditional and contemporary language. There is a majesty in Anglican liturgy rightly conducted that is reverent without being pompous and accessible without being vulgar (lacking in refinement). Anglicanism is a house built on the foundations of truth and beauty. Try as we might — and we have tried pretty hard — we Anglicans have not yet been able to pull the house off the foundations.

So, I am indebted to my young friend. I trust God will lead him to that place where he can worship truly and serve faithfully. I know God did that for me.

UNNECESSARY BEAUTY

The Apostles Anglican Church Flower Guild blesses me — not just me, but especially me I’m sure! — with beautiful flowers week by week, season by season, year by year. The flowers today (see photo) were strangely, weirdly magnificent. What was God thinking when he made that variegated, orange-red cross between a pineapple, an avocado and an alien being that we call a king protea?! And that surprisingly lovely purple explosion surrounding it — I do not know the name — is related to onion and garlic neither of which I can abide. But as a flower? Gorgeous. What a palatte of colors; what a variety of shapes. Even the “ordinary” carnations hold their own and enhance the more exotic offerings.

Why did God make such beauty? I am tempted to say that he did not have to and that it is all just gift. But I suspect that God did, after all, have to make beautiful things and nothing but beautiful things because creation and beauty are inherent in his nature. In God is light, we are told, and in him is no darkness at all. I suspect it is equally true that in God is beauty, and in him is no ugliness at all. That there is ugliness in the world — and there is ugliness in the world and in me — is good evidence of the fall. That we recognize ugliness and lament it is perhaps even better evidence. That we recognize and rejoice in beauty is not quite evidence of resurrection and the age to come, but it is at least a sign pointing toward it. If a fallen world has such strange and wonderful beauty as these flowers, imagine the world set to rights when heaven and earth are united.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Introduction To The Apocrypha: Judith

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

76. FOR GUIDANCE

Go before us, O Lord, in all our doings with your most gracious favor, and further us with your continual help; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in you, we may glorify your holy Name, and finally, through your mercy, obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (BCP 201, p. 669).

INTRODUCTION

Today we continue our survey of the Apocrypha with the book of Judith. Last week we noted that of the fourteen apocryphal books that Anglicans read “for example of life and instruction of manners” (Article VI, BCP 2019, p. 774) only six are included in our lectionaries for public reading in the Church either during the Eucharist or the Daily Office. These six fall into three categories or literary genres:

History: 1, 2 Maccabees

Wisdom: Wisdom of Solomon, Wisdom of Sirach (Ecclesiasticus)

Narrative: Susannah, Judith

At first glance, we might be tempted to consider Judith as historical. The book presents itself as history, with dates and places and names. It starts like this:

1 It was the twelfth year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, who ruled over the Assyrians in the great city of Nineveh. In those days Arphaxad ruled over the Medes in Ecbatana (Jdt 1:1).

It would seem that the author of Judith is establishing a historical context, but there is a problem. It is subtle, but some of you might notice it in this phrase: “Nebuchadnezzar, who ruled over the Assyrians in the great city of Nineveh.” Nebuchadnezzar was Babylonian, not Assyrian; he ruled in the great city of Babylon, not in Nineveh. This is an ahistorical blending of two different cultures and two different historical periods. Further, there is no historical record of Arphaxad ruling over the Medes in Ecbatana. And there are more historical anomalies.

Jerusalem and Solomon’s temple were destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar in 587 or 586 B.C. He died twenty-five years later. After another forty-five years or so, Cyrus the Persian, who had “inherited” the exiled Jews from Babylon, allowed them to repatriate and rebuild the Temple. These well established dates present further historical problems for the book of Judith. In Judith 5, a man named Achior recounts Israel’s history to Nebuchadnezzar’s general Holofernes saying:

17 “As long as they did not sin against their God they prospered, for the God who hates iniquity is with them. 18 But, when they departed from the way he had prescribed for them, they were utterly defeated in many battles and were led away captive to a foreign land. The temple of their God was razed to the ground, and their towns were occupied by enemies. 19 But now they have returned to their God, and have come back from the places where they were scattered, and have occupied Jerusalem where their sanctuary is, and have settled in the hill county, because it was uninhabited” (Jdt 5:17-19).

Achior is giving this history lesson to Nebuchadnezzar’s general Holofernes though the historical events he lists in this passage will not happen for decades after Holofernes and Nebuchadnezzar’s death decades in the future. There is a blending of past and future in Judith that shows the book is not historical. So, what are we to make of this?

Judith is likely a fictional short story that uses a historical figure — Nebuchadnezzar — to set up the tension in the story in a non-historical way. It’s a way of saying, “Remember how bad it was, how desperate our state was, in the days of Nebuchadnezzar? It’s just like that in the days of this story of Judith.” Nebuchadnezzar makes a good villain even though he is long dead.

So, Judith is most likely a clever bit of fiction with possibly a small core of historicity. But, if it is fiction, it is not written merely for entertainment. Judith is “religious fiction” in that God is the providential agent in the story working through Judith’s wisdom and courage. This is a story of exhortation, a story to stir up the people to faith and faithfulness and courage in difficult times. Judith was likely written during the second century B.C., a turbulent and dangerous time for the Judeans who were political pawns of the Greeks and the Syrians. It was one of the Syrian rulers, Antiochus Epiphanes IV (reign 175-164), who waged a war of genocide against the Judeans, who sought to eliminate their faith and practice entirely. His brutality sparked the Maccabean revolt — more about that later — and led to the establishment of the Hasmonean dynasty during which the Judeans exercised national autonomy for a brief time until Rome exerted its power in the region. So, likely in this period of threat and resistance comes the short story Judith with its encouraging message of an unlikely hero facing overwhelming odds and coming out victorious through faith, wisdom, and courage because God was behind the scenes working through her. That is the main theme. And, it’s a rousing, good story, just as it was intended to be.

CHAPTER 1: The War, the Summons, and the Vow

Let’s move now to current events. Recently, President Trump grew concerned that Iran was producing and amassing quantities of enriched uranium sufficient for the construction of nuclear bombs. Such weapons would be a threat to Israel — our ally in the region — and to global finance and security. So, the President staged a preemptive strike against Iran. In retaliation, Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and disrupted global oil supplies. At this point, the President sought military assistance from our NATO allies. Without exception, they rebuffed his summons, leaving the U.S. to handle the situation on its own. These are just the facts as we know them. I’m making no critical judgment here about what has happened. I assume that one day this will all be sorted and that oil and commerce will flow again through the Strait. Suppose the U.S. gains control of the Strait. Based on past behavior, what might we expect President Trump to do? I would expect him to exact a certain “revenge” on those NATO allies who failed to come to his aid. Perhaps he will charge a fee to allow their oil tankers to traverse the Strait. Perceived “disloyalty” is something President Trump does not forgive or forget; it is something he punishes. Again, that is not judgment; that is just his past pattern. This is same type of tension that drives the narrative of Judith. It is established in Chapter 1.

1 It was the twelfth year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, who ruled over the Assyrians in the great city of Nineveh. In those days Arphaxad ruled over the Medes in Ecbatana. 2 He built walls around Ecbatana with hewn stones three cubits thick and six cubits long; he made the walls seventy cubits high and fifty cubits wide. 3 At its gates he raised towers one hundred cubits high and sixty cubits wide at the foundations. 4 He made its gates seventy cubits high and forty cubits wide to allow his armies to march out in force and his infantry to form their ranks. 5 Then King Nebuchadnezzar made war against King Arphaxad in the great plain that is on the borders of Ragau. 6 There rallied to him all the people of the hill country and all those who lived along the Euphrates, the Tigris, and the Hydaspes, and, on the plain, Arioch, king of the Elymeans. Thus, many nations joined the forces of the Chaldeans.

7 Then Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians, sent messengers to all who lived in Persia and to all who lived in the west, those who lived in Cilicia and Damascus, Lebanon and Antilebanon, and all who lived along the seacoast, 8 and those among the nations of Carmel and Gilead, and Upper Galilee and the great plain of Esdraelon, 9 and all who were in Samaria and its towns, and beyond the Jordan as far as Jerusalem and Bethany and Chelous and Kadesh and the river of Egypt, and Tahpanhes and Raamses and the whole land of Goshen, 10 even beyond Tanis and Memphis, and all who lived in Egypt as far as the borders of Ethiopia. 11 But all who lived in the whole region disregarded the summons of Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians, and refused to join him in the war; for they were not afraid of him, but regarded him as only one man. So they sent back his messengers empty-handed and in disgrace.

12 Then Nebuchadnezzar became very angry with this whole region, and swore by his throne and kingdom that he would take revenge on the whole territory of Cilicia and Damascus and Syria, that he would kill with his sword also all the inhabitants of the land of Moab, and the people of Ammon, and all Judea, and every one in Egypt, as far as the coasts of the two seas.

13 In the seventeenth year he led his forces against King Arphaxad and defeated him in battle, overthrowing the whole army of Arphaxad and all his cavalry and all his chariots. 14 Thus he took possession of his towns and came to Ecbatana, captured its towers, plundered its markets, and turned its glory into disgrace. 15 He captured Arphaxad in the mountains of Ragau and struck him down with his spears, thus destroying him once and for all. 16 Then he returned to Nineveh, he and all his combined forces, a vast body of troops; and there he and his forces rested and feasted for one hundred twenty days (Jdt 1).

There is the tension: Nebuchadnezzar is dead set on revenge against the smaller nations, tribes, and regions who refused his summons, some of whose names are familiar to us: Carmel, Gilead, Upper Galilee, the plains of Esdraelon, Samaria, Jerusalem, and Bethany. Among others, the Judeans — Jerusalem and the rebuilt temple — are in the crosshairs.

CHAPTER 2: Holofernes and the Vengeance of Nebuchadnezzar

In the year following his victory, Nebuchadnezzar starts to exact his revenge. His instrument of vengeance is his general Holofernes. Does Nebuchadnezzar mean business? You be the judge.

2 In the eighteenth year, on the twenty-second day of the first month, there was talk in the palace of Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians, about carrying out his revenge on the whole region, just as he had said. 2 He summoned all his ministers and all his nobles and set before them his secret plan and recounted fully, with his own lips, all the wickedness of the region. 3 They decided that every one who had not obeyed his command should be destroyed.

4 When he had completed his plan, Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians, called Holofernes, the chief general of his army, second only to himself, and said to him, 5 “Thus says the Great King, the lord of the whole earth: Leave my presence and take with you men confident in their strength, one hundred twenty thousand foot soldiers and twelve thousand cavalry. 6 March out against all the land to the west, because they disobeyed my orders. 7 Tell them to prepare earth and water, for I am coming against them in my anger, and will cover the whole face of the earth with the feet of my troops, to whom I will hand them over to be plundered. 8 Their wounded shall fill their ravines and gullies, and the swelling river shall be filled with their dead. 9 I will lead them away captive to the ends of the whole earth. 10 You shall go and seize all their territory for me in advance. They must yield themselves to you, and you shall hold them for me until the day of their punishment. 11 But to those who resist show no mercy, but hand them over to slaughter and plunder throughout your whole region. 12 For as I live, and by the power of my kingdom, what I have spoken I will accomplish by my own hand. 13 And you—take care not to transgress any of your lord’s commands, but carry them out exactly as I have ordered you; do it without delay” (Jdt 2:1-13).

CHAPTER 3: Holofernes on the March

In chapter 3, we see Holofernes fulfilling this mandate of destruction region by region as he works his way westward. Word traveled quickly to those next in line for vengeance until finally Judea’s time was up.

CHAPTER 4: Preparing for War

When Joakim, the high priest in Jerusalem, realizes that Judea is next, he sends word to the Jews in the hill country of Samaria to seize the hilltops, to fortify their cities as best they can, and to stockpile food in preparation for war. He is particularly insistent that the people of the city of Bethulia seize the mountain passes near them because they are the gateway through which Holofernes and his troops must pass to reach Judea. If they can stop Holofernes there, then all Judea is safe.

So, with prayer and fasting and much calling on God, the people of Bethulia did exactly as Joakim had said and prepared themselves to defend the mountain passes.

CHAPTERS 5 – 7: Achior’s Warning, Holofernes’ Response and Battle Strategy

When Holofernes learns about Israel’s preparation for war, he seeks more information about them from his advisors. One of them, Achior, the leader of a mercenary army from Ammon, recounts a brief history of Israel and of God’s dealing with them. As to how Holofernes should proceed against them, Achior has this to say:

20 “So now, my master and lord, if there is any oversight in this people and they sin against their God and we find out their offense, then we can go up and defeat them. 21 But if they are not a guilty nation, then let my lord pass them by; for their Lord and God will defend them, and we shall become the laughingstock of the whole world” (Jdt 5:20-21).

Achior’s counsel is good and even prophetic, but Holofernes chooses to ignore it and to proceed against Bethulia. To punish Achior for questioning his ability to defeat Bethulia, Holofernes has Achior seized and delivered to Bethulia. Holofernes promises to kill Achior when he takes the city.

So, how best to deal with Bethulia? Some of Holofernes’ advisors — chieftains of the Edomites and Moabites — counsel him to avoid battle altogether. There is no need to attack. Bethulia is in the mountains, but the town’s water supplies, the springs and wells, are in the valley below. Seize the water, and the town will ultimately have to surrender or die. And so, Holofernes does just that.

After thirty-four days, “all the water containers of every inhabitant of Bethulia were empty; their cisterns were going dry, and on no day did they have enough water to drink” (Jdt 7:21). The situation was dire and the people began to challenge the judgment of their magistrates Uzziah, Micah, and Chabris: better to surrender to Holofernes and live as slaves than to die of thirst. So, the leaders make a last plea to the people and offer a compromise between faithfulness and practicality:

30 But Uzziah said to them, “Courage, my brothers and sisters! Let us hold out for five days more; by that time the Lord our God will turn his mercy to us again, for he will not forsake us utterly. 31 But if these days pass by, and no help comes for us, I will do as you say” (Jdt 7:30-31).

CHAPTER 8 – 10: Enter Judith

Now, nearly halfway into the book, Judith enters the story. We learn that she was a beautiful, wise, wealthy, and righteous widow who “feared God with great devotion” (Jdt 8:8). She was highly respected among the people of Bethulia.

9 When Judith heard the harsh words spoken by the people against the ruler, because they were faint for lack of water, and when she heard all that Uzziah said to them, and how he promised them under oath to surrender the town to the Assyrians after five days, 10 she sent her maid, who was in charge of all she possessed, to summon Uzziah and Chabris and Charmis, the elders of her town. 11 They came to her, and she said to them:

“Listen to me, rulers of the people of Bethulia! What you have said to the people today is not right; you have even sworn and pronounced this oath between God and you, promising to surrender the town to our enemies unless the Lord turns and helps us within so many days. 12 Who are you to put God to the test today, and to set yourselves up in the place of God in human affairs? 13 You are putting the Lord Almighty to the test, but you will never learn anything! 14 You cannot plumb the depths of the human heart or understand the workings of the human mind; how do you expect to search out God, who made all these things, and find out his mind or comprehend his thought? No, my brothers, do not anger the Lord our God. 15 For if he does not choose to help us within these five days, he has power to protect us within any time he pleases, or even to destroy us in the presence of our enemies. 16 Do not try to bind the purposes of the Lord our God; for God is not like a human being, to be threatened, or like a mere mortal, to be won over by pleading. 17 Therefore, while we wait for his deliverance, let us call upon him to help us, and he will hear our voice, if it pleases him (Jdt 8:9-17).

This is the faith and wisdom that has been lacking in the story up until now. But Judith goes further; she unites her faith with works. She offers herself to God as his agent of deliverance. She devises a plan — at great risk to herself — to destroy the general Holofernes and to deliver her people. After much prayer (see Jdt 9) she sets about to enact it.

CHAPTERS 11-13: Judith’s Plan

Judith and her servant leave Bethulia and surrender themselves to Holofernes’ troops. Judith offers them a strategy by which they can capture Bethulia and all the hill country without losing a single man among them. Beguiled by her beauty and intrigued by the offer she has made, they take her to Holofernes, where, again because of her beauty, she finds favor in his sight. She unveils the strategy to the general — a strategy that sounds much like Achior’s earlier counsel that Holofernes had rejected. Here it is, in summary.

Achior was right, that the Judeans cannot be defeated unless they first sin against God. But, that is the very thing they are about to do. Because their food and water supplies are exhausted, the people in both Jerusalem and Bethulia are about to eat food that is forbidden, including the first fruit offerings of grain and the tithes of wine and oil which had been consecrated to God. When they sin in this way, God will hand them over to Holofernes for destruction. And Judith says:

16 “So when I, your slave, learned all this, I fled from them. God has sent me to accomplish with you things that will astonish the whole world wherever people shall hear about them. 17 Your servant is indeed God-fearing and serves the God of heaven night and day. So, my lord, I will remain with you; but every night your servant will go out into the valley and pray to God. He will tell me when they have committed their sins. 18 Then I will come and tell you, so that you may go out with your whole army, and not one of them will be able to withstand you” (Jdt 11:16-18).

Holofernes accepted Judith’s strategy because of her beauty and wisdom. For three days, Judith remained in the camp. Each day at midnight she went out into the valley to pray and then returned to her tent.

But, on the fourth day, Holofernes invited Judith to a private banquet in his tent where he planned either to seduce her or force himself on her. Of course, this, too, was part of her real plan. Pretending to be greatly honored, she attended the banquet and encouraged Holofernes to drink a great abundance of wine — so much wine that he passed out “dead drunk” on his bed. You probably see where this is going now. Very conveniently, Holofernes’ sword is hanging on the bed post. With a prayer for strength and with two hacks of his neck, Judith decapitates Holofernes, places his head in her food bag, and escapes with her servant back to Bethulia. Remember that the leaders there had given God five days to act. God has done so, through Judith, in only four.

CHAPTERS 14-15: Victory

Of course, there is still an army gathered against Bethulia. But, no matter. Judith addresses the leaders of the town:

“Listen to me, my friends. Take this head and hang it upon the parapet of your wall. 2 As soon as day breaks and the sun rises on the earth, each of you take up your weapons, and let every able-bodied man go out of the town; set a captain over them, as if you were going down to the plain against the Assyrian outpost; only do not go down. 3 Then they will seize their arms and go into the camp and rouse the officers of the Assyrian army. They will rush into the tent of Holofernes and will not find him. Then panic will come over them, and they will flee before you. 4 Then you and all who live within the borders of Israel will pursue them and cut them down in their tracks” (Jdt 14:1-4).

And that is precisely what happened.

CHAPTER 16: The Song of Judith

The final chapter is comprised mostly of Judith’s song of praise and victory. Here is an excerpt that gives a sense of the whole, and that summarizes the theme of the book.

13 I will sing to my God a new song:

O Lord, you are great and glorious,

wonderful in strength, invincible.

14 Let all your creatures serve you,

for you spoke, and they were made.

You sent forth your spirit, and it formed them;

there is none that can resist your voice.

15 For the mountains shall be shaken to their foundations with the waters;

before your glance the rocks shall melt like wax.

But to those who fear you

you show mercy.

16 For every sacrifice as a fragrant offering is a small thing,

and the fat of all whole burnt offerings to you is a very little thing;

but whoever fears the Lord is great forever (Jdt 16:13-16).

History? No. Religious fiction? Most probably, with elements of wisdom literature and exhortation mixed in. A good read? Absolutely.

I’ve been married for nearly forty-three years: thanks be to God. Among the many things I’ve learned — some the easy way and too many the hard way — is this: in conversation with your beloved, you must always be alert to the unspoken subtext. There are the actual words spoken, yes, with a quite straightforward literal meaning. But there is often a meaning hidden within or underneath or behind the spoken words, a hidden meaning that you are expected to — and which you had better — understand. There are often two senses to marital communication: the literal and the relational.

It is the same with Scripture, only more so. The Church has long recognized and described various senses of the Word. There are the words themselves, yes, but they often contain multiple layers of meaning revealed by the Holy Spirit. We might describe the plain meaning of the text as its literal sense and the deeper meaning as its spiritual sense. So, for example, the Song of Solomon is an erotic love poem in its literal sense, but it is a description of the relationship between Christ and the Church in its deeper, spiritual sense.

So, what do we make of the Old Testament lesson appointed for Morning Prayer today (12 June), the story of the Gibeonite deception (see Joshua 9)? In its literal sense, it is simply an historical account of a clever and resourceful group of men who manage to pull the wool over Joshua’s eyes, to deceive him in order to spare their city from destruction. Like the shrewd manager in Jesus’ parable, you just have to give them some grudging admiration; well played men of Gibeon, well played.

But surely there is more to this story. If not, it won’t preach. If not, it lacks any power to inspire or encourage or exhort. If not, it lacks any spiritual sense.

But, there is more; there is a spiritual sense to the account; in fact, there are probably many ways to understand it spiritually. I’d like to suggest just one that might inform our own discipleship. In its spiritual sense this account offers an insightful description of temptation and sin, and it issues a stern warning. The desert fathers would have understood this perfectly.

The Gibeonites came to Joshua unbidden, disguised, and with lying words.

3 But when the inhabitants of Gibeon heard what Joshua had done to Jericho and Ai, 4 they on their part acted with cunning and went and made ready provisions and took worn-out sacks for their donkeys, and wineskins, worn-out and torn and mended, 5 with worn-out, patched sandals on their feet, and worn-out clothes. And all their provisions were dry and crumbly (Josh 9:3-5, ESV throughout).

When Joshua inquired where they were from, they lied:

“From a very distant country your servants have come, because of the name of the LORD your God” (Josh 9:9a).

Unbidden, disguised, and lying, the Gibeonites came, which is exactly how temptation comes to us. It is the paradigm we see from the very beginning, from the Garden, when the evil one comes unbidden and unwelcomed into Eden, disguised as a serpent, and hissing lies to Eve about her Creator and his selfish intent for man: unbidden, disguised, and lying. Temptation is a subtle assault upon us, perpetrated by the world, the flesh, and the devil. It often appears harmless, as worn-out, torn, and mended as Gibeonite wineskins. And too often we are deceived, like Eve and Joshua. The first step toward sin is the assault, when temptation comes to us unbidden, disguised, and lying. There is no culpability here; Jesus himself was tempted. But there is danger.

When the Gibeonites arrived, Joshua and the army of Israel had already destroyed two cities: Jericho and Ai. In each, according to the command of God, all inhabitants had been placed under the ban, utterly destroyed. Why would Joshua suppose that God would desire anything different for these strangers arriving unbidden? Why would Joshua suppose that God might want him to spare and covenant with these inhabitants of the land? Why would Joshua entertain this notion? Why would he and the men of Israel interact with them?

7 But the men of Israel said to the Hivites, “Perhaps you live among us; then how can we make a covenant with you?” 8 They said to Joshua, “We are your servants.” And Joshua said to them, “Who are you? And where do you come from” (Josh 9:7-8)?

Of course, the Gibeonites lied to Joshua and to the men of Israel, maintaining their disguise and their deception. “We are your servants,” they said, all the while pursuing a strategic position of advantage. And Joshua continued to engage, to interact, to consider the possibility of covenant with these strangers.

Temptation works in exactly the same way. It comes unbidden, disguised, and lying — so small, so insignificant, so worn and shabby, hardly recognizable at all. But, it is temptation. Why would we suppose that God would desire anything but for us to place it under the ban? Why would we suppose that God might want us to spare it and covenant with it? Why might we suppose that God might want us to interact with it at all? What if Eve had simply said, “Begone, serpent,” rather than engaging in conversation with the evil one? What if David had simply averted his eyes from Bathsheba instead of entertaining his growing lust? What if I, recognizing a temptation, simply refused to engage it, refused to interact with it? Temptations may buzz around us like so many flies, but we do not have to grant them a safe place to land. Temptations come knocking on the door seeking a place to lodge, but we don’t have to share our hospitality. The second step toward sin in interaction.

There is a telling verse next — a damning verse — in this account:

14 So the men [of Israel] took some of [the Gibeonites’] provisions, but did not ask counsel from the LORD (Josh 9:14).

There’s the heart of the problem: the men of Israel engaged with the Gibeonites but not with the Lord. And notice another subtle but crucial shift in the trajectory of the Joshua narrative. The priests were central in the crossing of the Jordan River. The priests were instrumental in the seven-day siege of Jericho. But, the priests are absent from the account of Israel’s defeat at Ai. And the priests are absent from the account of the Gibeonite deception. There is a movement away from the Lord and his representatives and toward the men of Israel and the power of the army. And that is a disastrous shift. Had Joshua simply dismissed the Gibeonites without engagement, without considering their request; had Joshua engaged the priests and sought the word of the Lord instead of contemplating a covenant with the deceivers, how differently this account might read.

If I refused to engage temptation, to interact with what it offers; if I engaged instead with holy men and women, trusted mentors and guides, and sought the word of the Lord, how differently my life might read.

Temptation comes unbidden, disguised, and lying to assault us. Instead of confessing the temptation to godly men or women and together seeking the word of the Lord with prayer and fasting, we too often interact with temptation; we consider what it has to say and to offer. And, if we continue down that path, the next words written about Joshua may well be said of us:

15 And Joshua made peace with them and made a covenant with them, to let them live, and the leaders of the congregation swore to them (Josh 9:15).

Rich Mullins has a song that expresses our human condition powerfully and poetically, as only Rich could do:

We are frail, we are fearfully and wonderfully made

Forged in the fires of human passion

Choking on the fumes of selfish rage

And with these our hells and our heavens

So few inches apart

We must be awfully small

And not as strong as we think we are (Rich Mullins, We Are Not as Strong as We Think We Are)

The world, the flesh, and the devil have had eons to perfect temptation, while we are awfully small and not as strong as we think we are. If we do not flee temptation’s assault, if we foolishly engage temptation, if we look to our own wisdom and the might of our own army instead of seeking out the communion of the saints and the power of prayer and the word of God, we will find ourselves making peace with temptation and covenant with sin. And that is the third step toward sin: consent. Now, we are culpable.

This text is not simply a slightly humorous account of how a clever band of tricksters deceived Joshua and the elders of Israel. It is a cautionary tale for us, laying out the way temptation assaults us, showing the danger of engaging temptation, warning against the ever-present possibility of making peace with temptation and covenant with sin. Temptation will come; we will be assaulted. But we have this promise:

13 No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it (1 Cor 10:13).

And we have this tale as both warning and guide. Amen.

The following parable is from The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen. Though AI was not on the horizon when he wrote, the modern, technological world was, and it was playing havoc with man’s mental and spiritual condition. I do not think it abuses or stretches the parable to see AI in its “moral.”

Four royal sons were questioning what specialty they should master. They said to one another, “Let us search the earth and learn a special science.” So they decided, and after they had agreed on a place where they would meet again, the four brothers started off, each in a different direction. Time went by, and the brothers met again at the appointed meeting place, and they asked one another what they had learned. “I have mastered a science,” said the first, “which makes it possible for me, if I have nothing but a piece of bone of some creature, to create straight away the flesh that goes with it.” “I,” said the second, “know how to grow that creature’s skin and hair if there is flesh on its bones.” The third said, “I am able to create its limbs if I have the flesh, the skin, and the hair.” “And I,” concluded the fourth, “know how to give life to that creature if its form is complete with limbs.”

Thereupon the four brothers went into the jungle to find a piece of bone so that they could demonstrate their specialties. As fate would have it, the bone they found was a lion’s, but they did not know that and picked up the bone. On added flesh to the bone, the second grew hide and hair, the third completed it with matching limbs, and the fourth gave the lion life. Shaking its heavy mane, the ferocious beast arose with its menacing mouth, sharp teeth, and merciless claws and jumped on his creators. He killed them all and vanished contentedly into the jungle.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Introduction To The Apocrypha

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

Blessed Lord, who caused all Holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and the comfort of your Holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Foreword

As Anglican Christians, we value Holy Scripture as the very Word of God written. We stand under the authority of Christ ministered, not least, through Holy Scripture. It is pre-eminent among all texts. But it is not the only book — books — that we find of value. We treasure the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, the Desert Fathers, the saints and apologists and theologians — male and female — of the Church throughout the ages. And no good Anglican thinks it amiss when a priest, preacher, or teacher quotes C. S. Lewis or John Donne or even N. T. Wright. But let that same speaker quote from the Apocrypha and some people “go all squirrely.” Why is that? Why is there such suspicion toward these books? Part of the answer is the unfortunate historical animosity between Protestants and Roman Catholics. Part of the answer is just lack of familiarity with the Apocrypha — what it is, what it contains, and how it is rightly considered and used by Anglicans.

In this overview of the Apocrypha we hope to ease some of that suspicion by showing how the Apocrypha can be properly and faithfully used and by familiarizing you with some of its content, particularly those books that are read by Anglicans in the Daily Office and at the Eucharist.

Introduction: The Three Shelves of Scripture

When we think of Holy Scripture — the Bible — we typically have in mind a single volume containing both the Old Testament (the Hebrew Scriptures) and the New Testament (the Christian Scriptures): one book, two testaments. But, the Bible is not a single book. It is a collection of books by multiple authors written over centuries now bound together for convenience sake into the single book of our sacred writings. St. Paul mentions these writings in his second letter to Timothy:

14 But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it 15 and how from childhood you have been acquainted with the sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 16 All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, 17 that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work (2 Tim 3:14-17).

St. Paul reminds Timothy that from his childhood Timothy was acquainted with the “sacred writings,” the same word translated in verse 16 as Scripture. And St. Paul insists that all these scriptures are God-breathed, that they are profitable, and that they contribute to our completion as God’s holy people. He doesn’t specify the names of the individual books that constitute the sacred writings, and he doesn’t delve deeply into how the books became the sacred writings.

And, we don’t often think about the process by which the sacred writings became the finished Bible, either, but it would be helpful to do that now, at least in very abbreviated fashion. Scholarly careers are built on this topic. A vast body of historical, literary, and linguistic research exists. Whole schools of thought are built around it. So, it is not even the tip of the iceberg that we’ll look at — just enough for our purposes.

We start with God the Holy Spirit. What St. Peter says specifically about the prophetic word of Scripture, we accept as true for the whole of Scripture:

21 For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit (2 Pet 1:21).

The scriptural word that men spoke was/is from God, given specifically under the direction of the Holy Spirit. What that means precisely is open to a range of interpretations. But, it seems clear that the creation of God’s written word was a joint venture between God and men, that men were more than mere scribes, that their humanity comes through in these writings in a way that does not compromise the divine status of the word. Men weren’t ciphers, but rather a real and vital part of the process of producing Scripture. We have four Gospels and not one: four different perspectives from four different human authors working under the auspices of the Holy Spirit.

Man’s involvement doesn’t stop with the initial act of writing. The Scriptures were copied and edited and compiled and translated over generations. They are still being translated today through the good and godly work of societies like Wycliffe Bible Translators. None of this is haphazard. All of it is superintended by God the Holy Spirit to ensure that the finished product is the Word of God, the word that God wants us to have to reveal himself, to form us into the kind of people he wants us to be, and to govern our life together in the Church.

There is another important step in this process that is particularly germane to our purposes in this class. The Bible did not come complete with a table of contents. Instead, there were a host of individual books being used by the people of God, both his old covenant people and his new covenant people. From this variety of books, different Jewish and Christian communities compiled collections of books that they considered authoritative, books in which they clearly heard the voice and word of God and to whose authority they submitted themselves.

Imagine that in compiling these books for their use — in selecting which books the community considered authoritative — a community had three bookshelves with which to sort the books into categories. (I believe I first heard this three shelf analogy from Orthodox priest and scholar Fr. Stephen DeYoung.) On the top shelf they put all the books in which they clearly and perfectly heard the word of God. We’ll call this shelf Canon, from a word that denotes a measuring stick. These books are the standard, the ruler, by which all other books will be judged or measured. They are the books authorized for public reading and teaching in the community. These are recognized as being uniquely the word of God written. On the bottom shelf are the clearly inferior and erroneous books that may not be read in public worship and should not even be read privately. We’ll call this shelf Heresy. But what about the middle shelf? This is the tricky one. These books aren’t heretical; they won’t lead you away from God or into bad morals. But, they are of mixed quality and usefulness; some parts are brilliant and some parts are less so and perhaps confusing. Some are histories and some are fictional morality tales, romping good reads but of secondary spiritual significance.

We’ll call this shelf Apocrypha, a word that means “hidden.” That is, they are hidden from public use in the community. You are welcome to read them privately, and, in fact, there is great benefit in doing so. But, you have to read them with discernment. Always measure them against those books on the top shelf, the Canon. Anything that agrees with the canonical books is fine; anything that might seem to disagree is suspect. You do not use the apocryphal books to formulate any doctrine not found in the canonical books, but you can use them to support and illustrate “canonical” doctrine and to help you lead a life of wisdom and virtue. And the histories are quite useful for understanding the world out of which the canonical books came. Most of the books on the middle shelf were written in what we consider the silent years between the end of the Old Testament era and the beginning of the New Testament, let’s say between 400 – 200 B.C. These were books well known to Jesus and his disciples — the history, religious fiction, and wisdom that shaped their culture.

Now imagine many different communities sorting all these books with this same three-shelf process. How likely is it that all the same books would end up on the same shelves across all communities? I suspect there would be significant agreement, maybe especially on those books that are heretical. And I think there would be a common core of canonical books; some would appear across all the different communities. But there would also be some variation. A few books on the middle shelf in some communities might be on the top shelf in others. That is exactly what we see historically: different communities with different canons, not vastly different, but with a few different books here and there. Again, keep in mind that I have grossly simplified a complex process, but this will do for our purposes.

Over time, two Old Testament canons rose to prominence: one used by Hebrew speaking Jews, the Masoretic Text still used in Rabbinic Judaism, and the Septuagint, a Greek translation widely used in the first century and beyond when the use of Hebrew waned and Greek became the “world’s language.” The Hebrew Masoretic Text contains fewer books than does the Septuagint and the Vulgate, a later Latin translation. Those books that are included in the canon of the Septuagint and Vulgate and excluded from the Masoretic Text are what we call the Apocrypha. They are canonical in some faith communities — Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox, for example — but not in others. The Old Testament canon in most Protestant churches is based on the Hebrew/Masoretic Text and does not include these apocryphal books. If your Bible has 66 books — 39 OT and 27 NT — it does not contain the Apocrypha.

Bibles used by Roman Catholic and Orthodox Christians disperse these books that we consider apocryphal throughout the Bible in appropriate places based on literary genre. The books are, after all, canonical for them and no distinction is made between them and the other books. In most Protestant Bibles that include the Apocrypha, the books are grouped together and placed either between the Old and New Testaments or “sequestered” in the back of the Bible to emphasize that they are not canonical. Some publishers even print the Apocrypha in smaller font to set it apart from the canon, which in increasingly infuriating as I get older and my vision declines even further.

Anglicanism and the Apocrypha

The Anglican approach to the Apocrypha is the typical via media, more both-and than either-or. I’ll let our formularies — our controlling documents — speak to this issue.

From The Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion of 1571 (BCP 2019, p. 772 ff), specifically Article VI. OF THE SUFFICIENCY OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES FOR SALVATION:

Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation: so that whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any man, that it should be believed as an article of the Faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation. In the name of the Holy Scriptures we do understand those Canonical Books of the Old and New Testament, of whose authority was never any doubt in the Church (BCP 2019, p. 773).

In other words, by Holy Scriptures we mean the core of books common to all Christian Churches: the thirty-nine books of the Hebrew Old Testament and the twenty-seven books of the New Testament, precisely what you find in any Protestant Bible. But the article continues and addresses the Apocrypha:

And the other Books (as Hierome saith) the Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners; but yet doth it not apply them to establish any doctrine; such are these following (BCP 2019, p. 774).

And then it lists the fourteen books of the Apocrypha. Similarly, the ACNA Catechism To Be A Christian says this about the Apocrypha:

The fourteen books of the Apocrypha, historically acknowledged by this church, are pre-Christian Jewish writing that provide background for the New Testament and are included in many editions of the Bible. They may be read as examples of faithful living but “not to establish any doctrine” (Articles of Religion, 6).

So, we Anglicans find the Apocrypha useful for background historical and cultural information, for devotion and inspiration, for wisdom, and for examples of holy living. We read any and all of the books privately and selections from some of them in both our eucharistic and daily office lectionaries. But, in doing so, we preserve the distinction between the canonical books and the apocryphal books. When a selection from the Apocrypha is read in public worship we do not conclude the reading with “The Word of the Lord / Thanks be to God.” We simply say, “Here ends the reading.” We are not exactly saying that the word from the Apocrypha is not inspired, but we are not claiming that it is.

Of the fourteen books in the Apocrypha the ACNA includes readings from six of them in either the Eucharistic readings or the Daily Office Readings:

Ecclesiasticus (The Wisdom of Sirach)

Wisdom (Wisdom of Solomon)

1 Maccabees

2 Maccabees

Judith

Susanna

Ecclesiasticus, the most widely read of the apocryphal books, and Wisdom of Solomon are examples of wisdom literature on the order of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament or James in the New Testament. The texts teach the value of acquiring wisdom and of living rightly (wisely and righteously).

1, 2 Maccabees are historical accounts of Jewish life and struggles in the intertestimental period. They recount the response of the Jews to various attempts to conquer them and to erase their Jewish identity and faith. They also give us the origin of the Feast of Hanukkah, just as Esther gives the origin of Purim. You might think of these books like the canonical histories of 1, 2 Samuel, 1, 2 Kings, Ezra, and Nehemiah.

Judith is akin to Esther: a hero story of how a righteous woman outsmarted pagan armies who threatened the Jewish people. Because of some historical anomalies in the story, it is quite likely fictional.

Susannah is thought by scholars to be a fictional short story — a morality tale — that introduces Daniel and shows his wisdom in defending righteous Susannah from false accusations and death. It is a fun, short read — a sort of crime drama.

Susannah

Susannah is the first of the books we’ll look at. It is quite short; you have the full text on your handout. I will read it aloud and then I have some questions for you to consider in your table groups. If we don’t have adequate time to get to all the questions or to discuss them together, then that is your “homework.”