★★★★

Wow, this book is HUGE! Pierce is opinionated and has lots to say, so there is no way a short Dubious Disciple review could touch on every topic he covers. It was a roller coaster ride; oddly, I usually either strongly agreed or strongly disagreed with each topic. Yet the writing was too captivating to merely skim.

Well, with one exception. Be forewarned about a chapter titled The False Israel in which Pierce attempts to knock Jews off their high horse. He complains about how much financial, political and media influence Jews have, and pooh-pooh’s their belief about being the chosen race (while he simultaneously promotes only Christians as God’s children.) This chapter just drones on and on and on, describing the evils of Judaism, and may be skipped.

The book’s subtitle is What Ancient Poetry Reveals About Christ, the Church, and the Kingdom. It officially reaches the stated topic in part five (there are six parts in all). While the reading before this section is interesting, I think Pierce errs in thinking his readers need that much preparation (indoctrination?) before getting to the good stuff. But now that we’re there, take a gander at these two verses:

Genesis 1:1, the beginning of the first creation story: In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

Genesis 2:4, the beginning of the second creation story:  … in the day that the LORD God made the earth and the heavens.

Did you notice the difference? One tells the story looking down from heaven; the other, looking up from the earth. When heaven comes first, it results in the Sabbath rest. However, when the earth comes first, it results in the Fall. These two stories, insists Pierce, are intentionally complementary; they could not be by two different authors, as proponents of the Documentary Hypothesis claim. For proof, Pierce lays out each story’s structure and shows us how the pieces fit together: Genesis 2:4-2:25 is a reworking of 1:1-2:3, with a different emphasis, so that we can understand the same set of events symbolically. One from the viewpoint of heaven, and one from earth. This is a quite fascinating observation, and Pierce’s research is worth studying. But will digging into the symbolism really help us understand the Bible in a more meaningful manner?

I think so. For an example, try picturing Eden, a little garden in the midst of a world of pain (Adam and Eve were hardly alone in the world), with a river flowing out of it. Revelation describes this river as flowing out from the throne of God. The river divides into four smaller rivers; “four” symbolizes completeness, as the pure water of Eden flows out to the four corners of the earth. Does this describe the Kingdom of Heaven that you have in mind, as you picture God’s will for this world? (Think spiritually, not in a natural sense.)

Martin Pierce is a relatively conservative Christian—for example, he adheres to traditional authorship of the New Testament, but thinks it’s silliness to believe in young-earth creationism against overwhelming evidence—yet he is not very enamored of the current trend of Biblical literalism. This is not to say that Pierce doesn’t take the Bible seriously or that his interpretation is extreme. In my opinion, it’s not. He simply believes the Bible’s real purpose is in its theology, not its history. He subscribes to partial preterism (meaning that most, but not all, of the bible’s prophecies such as the Day of the Lord came to pass as expected in the first century) and post-millennialism (meaning, in this case, that Jesus will come back yet a third time).

More than anything else, this perspective means Christians who live with their head tilted skyward waiting for the return of Christ should instead lower their gaze to a world that needs their attention. It only takes a small number of Christians to make a difference, but they must be faithful. The parable of the ten virgins helps explain how we should view the earth. The five foolish virgins weren’t condemned for not being ready—indeed, they WERE ready at precisely the right time—but they were condemned for being unprepared for an unexpected delay in the coming of the bridegroom. Likewise, we should never approach life as if we’ll only be around for a few more years, as this only encourages improper stewardship of the earth.

So is this the “right” way to read Genesis? Did its author(s) intend for us to recognize the various chiasms and parallelisms in its text? Do symbolism, metaphor and typology play as large a role as Pierce describes? Heck if I know, but I do know I enjoyed the study. It’s a fascinating and meaningful way to make sense of a book that many may otherwise find full of only antiquated myth.

Pierce’s book is a call to return to the state of purity and blessedness that existed in the garden of Eden. That requires unity, but the Eden Pierce imagines is Christian unity, not worldwide unity. And for this, he has a plan. A governing council of perhaps seventy elders would represent and unify the various denominations, while keeping a strict watch for heresy. Each would be in agreement with at least the Nicene Creed and the Apostles’ Creed, and no dispensationalists or literalists (such as young-earth creationists) would be allowed to hold a position on the council. The represented denominations would be governed so that sinful practices such as homosexuality would never be tolerated. A Christian court would be established, as this world needs Christian representation in such issues as divorce and child custody. Yeah, you can guess it ended on a “strongly disagree” note for me … but I still recommend the book as insightful and interesting.

★★★★★

My thanks to Susan Peck and My Cozie Corner for this five-star review of my latest book:

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Lee pens “John’s Gospel: The Way it Happened” in a story line that interweaves fact and fiction which is easy to understand, and I found quite enjoyable to read. It’s a fascinating way to take a look at the Gospel of John as it teaches you along the way. My only regret is that I wished I had read Lee’s first book “Revelation: The Way it Happened” as I had the feeling I was missing some key points on the characters. As my son had said “If the whole Bible read this way, it probably would make a bit more sense and more fun to read” (yes he has read the Bible from cover to cover). A must read for all Christians and who are open to another person’s take on the Bible.

I give “John’s Gospel: The Way It Happened” a 5 star rating.

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For more, go here http://coziecorner.blogspot.com/2013/06/book-review-johns-gospel-way-it.html

★★★★★

Spong has never warmed to the historicity of the Fourth Gospel. In fact, he never warmed to that gospel much at all, until the last few years, when he decide to make a study of it. I’m glad he finally did; I thoroughly enjoyed reading Spong’s analysis.

He begins his book by admitting that the older he gets, the more he believes, but the fewer beliefs he holds. I quoted Spong in my own book about John’s Gospel (published just three months ago) as saying “I do not believe I can make a case for a single word attributed to Jesus in the Fourth Gospel to be a literal word actually spoken by the historic Jesus.” Knowing that we were researching our projects simultaneously, I contacted him to make sure he hadn’t developed a new “belief” about the Gospel before I printed that. Nope, he still doesn’t believe Jesus said any of the words in John’s Gospel, and more than that: Spong believes none of the miracle stories are real, few of the characters are historical people, and certainly the author wasn’t an original apostle of Jesus. Nicodemus, Nathanial, the woman at the well, the beloved disciple, the mother of Jesus (who remains unnamed in this Gospel)—all purely symbolic. The Gospel is a late-first-century mystical work, allegorically telling the history of the Johannine Community and the development of the Jesus movement, and it was never meant to be read like a history book.

I can’t go quite that far, yet it’s fascinating to read the Gospel as a mystical lesson book. The “mother of Jesus” in John’s Gospel, for example, was never a woman named Mary, but a symbol of Israel. The wedding of Cana was Jesus’ own wedding. Not literally, of course, but symbolically. The incarnation was never about a foreign visitor from heaven, but about a new and mystical way of experiencing life in abundance. I reach similar conclusions in my own book, but if this is the correct way to read John’s Gospel, then there remains one miracle Spong doesn’t explain: how did a book with so many contributing authors, going through so many stages, wind up coherently spiritual? Were none of these contributors literalists?

Yet Spong’s book just gets better as it goes along. I would venture a guess that he finds the most poignant moment in the Gospel of John to be at the foot of the cross, where the beloved disciple is joined to mother of Jesus. Spong’s parabolic understanding of the Gospel climaxes in symbolic meaning here, and I think it would be a spoiler to explain exactly what the moment describes.

Perhaps my favorite part of the book was Spong’s treatment of the final chapter in John. Written by an unknown author, it is often referred to as the appendix of the Gospel. So contrary is the “appendix” to the rest of the Gospel that I pretty much left it out of my own book. Spong, however, while recognizing that it doesn’t fit with the rest, still has a great appreciation for this story of Jesus appearing to the disciples in Galilee. He considers it probably founded on an earlier tradition than the rest of the gospel … indeed, possibly earlier than any of the gospels’ resurrection stories! Still treating even the appendix as a mystical writing, Spong brings this final chapter alive in a way that made me, for the first time, appreciate it.

Fascinating and fresh, this is John’s Gospel the way nobody has read it for 1900 years.

★★★★★

Very informative. Witherington splices together historical fiction and scholarly commentary to produce an excellent teaching aid. The result is fiction that is too choppy and short for a captivating plot, but perfect for enjoyable learning.

The story takes place in the mid-first century, at the time Paul the Apostle was church planting. Paul plays a heavy role, but he’s not the main character. Instead, some obscure characters in the Bible are fleshed out and brought to life (maybe you remember Gallio, but I bet you’ve never heard of Erastos or Nicanor … and kudos if you have!) Erastos is running for public office in Corinth, Nicanor is his slave, and Paul, though he does not involve himself in politics, is his usual Christian self. The “scholarly commentary” I alluded to comes in the way of one- or two-page inserts titled “A Closer Look,” which are peppered throughout the text.

This book is not preachy, nor even very “Christian” until the final page or two. Instead, it’s just a great way to familiarize yourself with one of the major cities in the Bible, particularly during the time of Paul. Highly recommended!

★★★★

I’ve enjoyed attending a Unitarian Universalist church about every other Sunday for a while, and thought I
should know a little more about it, so I picked up this book.

That’s a lie. I have no idea where the book came from, whether it was a gift or a request for review or a purchase I forgot I had made. It just appeared on my bookshelf, without getting logged in my review queue. I love mysteries, so I read it.

U.U. is a merger of two denominations—Universalists and Unitarians—and to be honest, I didn’t learn a lot from the book. That’s because there is no creed to learn, no rituals to perform, no insistence upon a single belief system, while at the same time it demeans none of them. It’s pluralism to the extreme. Fits me to a T, right?

U.U. is a sort of common-sense, practical religion. It feels, to me, open and honest. There is no denial of sin, death, evil, and suffering, but rather there is a humanitarian call to ease or overcome them. Those U.U.’s who have a Christian bent tend to lean toward “works” in the great faith-vs-works debate. I’ve never been good at denying scientific findings (like evolution), and have a tough time believing in any particular afterlife scenario over another, so U.U. fits me there, too. This quote I found absolutely fascinating:

Death is a fairly recent entry in the scheme of evolution. The beginnings of life on this planet were sponsored by single cell organisms, which replicated themselves by division. One generation of beings followed another, each identical to the last. We were immortal, until we became interesting.

But how do I explain the book? I thought I’d just list a few more quotes, and maybe something will resonate with you as well.

Unitarian Universalism might best be described as a life-affirming rather than death-defying faith.

“The Universalists believe that God is too good to damn them, whereas the Unitarians believe they are too good to be damned!” –Star King, p. 34

The light of God (“God” is not God’s name, but our name for that which is greater than all and yet present in each) not only shines down upon us, but also out from within us.

One Truth, many truths; one God, many faiths; one light (Unitarianism), many windows (Universalism).

★★★★★

God and Satan are enjoying a customary lunch together when they decide to settle it all. The whole shebang. Which is more powerful: good or evil? This is no mere side bet, like whether or not a fellow named Job is a good guy. Satan has had enough of being banished from heaven, and this time it’s for all the marbles.

They decide to settle the issue on the tennis court, so each backs a champion. God picks Ugo, a graceful, deaf Italian while Satan likes Jack, a relentless, win-at-all-costs American. The two champions are molded for ten years, from the tender age of thirteen until they become magnificent athletic perfection at twenty-three, when everything is finally ready for a final showdown at Wimbledon.

If you’re a tennis fan, or any kind of sports fan, or, hey, just a human being, this book is great entertainment. A feel-good book of cosmic significance, for about any age. A bit sappy and overplayed, maybe, but what’s wrong with a little light-hearted good-versus-evil? I loved it all the way through.

Mitchell’s fun writing style with its exaggerated run-on sentences contributes perfectly to the never-ending volleys of the greatest tennis match of all time.

★★★★★

Maybe you read the story of Mother Teresa from her friends, those who served alongside her. Maybe you read it differently from her detractors, like Christopher Hitchens. Here is the story from her own hand … a brutally honest account, because she had no intention of anyone ever reading it. This is an annotated collection of her personal letters, mostly to those in authority over her in the Church. She begged repeatedly that these letters be destroyed, so that the world would never know what was in her heart as she ministered in Calcutta among the poorest of the poor. But the Church, after beautifying her as a saint, felt the letters were an important part of Catholic history. Rather than destroying them, after her death they were published in this book.

For the first time, the rest of the world was made aware of the deep darkness inside this saint. Mother Teresa had pleaded over and over with the Church to be allowed to go to India and set up a ministry there for the poor. She felt she had received direction straight from Jesus for this task, and that by being a help and comfort to them—the forsaken, the lepers, the hungry, the sick—she was sharing the love of Jesus. Years, she waited for permission, before it was granted. But almost immediately upon arrival, she began to feel a darkness in her soul. She felt no God there in India. God had abandoned her, leaving only darkness, despair, and doubt. Doubt about whether there was a heaven; doubt at times about even His existence. For nearly fifty years until her death, she struggled with darkness in her soul, painting a smile on her face so as to be an encouragement to others, while bearing the pain alone.

“The place of God in my soul is blank—There is no God in me—when the pain of longing is so great—I just long and long for God—and then it is that I feel—He does not want me—He is not there—“

Every single letter in the book, I believe, contained a plea for others to pray for her, that she could endure the darkness.

“Pray for me—for within me everything is icy cold.”

“I am told God loves me—and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. … The whole time smiling …my cheerfulness is the cloak by which I cover the emptiness & misery.”

I get the feeling that even the book’s author, in collecting and presenting these letters, underestimated the depth of Mother Teresa’s hopelessness:

“If there be no God—there can be no soul.—If there is no soul then Jesus—You also are not true.—Heaven, what emptiness—not a single thought of Heaven enters my mind—for there is no hope. … In my heart there is no faith—no love—no trust—there is so much pain—the pain of longing, the pain of not being wanted. … I don’t pray any longer.

“If there is hell—this must be one. How terrible it is to be without God—no prayer—no faith—no love.”

The darkness never lifted. I think it was only in about the last ten years of her life that she finally made peace with it, comparing it to the darkness Jesus felt in the Garden, and on the cross. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Mother Teresa found in the darkness a “greater identification with the poor,” and in this way, lived out the rest of her life in service.

★★★★★

What do you get when you merge the book of Revelation with astrology?

You get what you start with: Revelation, in the spirit in which it was written. Few people give credence to the astrological underpinnings of Revelation, and the utter fascination its intended first-century audience held with the mysteries of the heavens. So while I knew I would disagree with Gable’s future-based interpretation of Revelation (I myself have little faith in astrology but quite a bit of faith in the historical-critical approach to Revelation—see my own book about the topic here www.dubiousdisciple.com/revelation), I wondered if his work would provide an exposition that does justice to this fascinating Bible book.

I wasn’t disappointed. Gable lays out a timeline of events, culminating in a future reappearance of Christ, just as the original readers of Revelation would have expected. It’s the first century all over again! Computer projections tell us there is a time coming when all the signs in the heavens align with the prophecies of Revelation and other scriptures. I won’t play the spoiler by telling you when that time will arrive; buy the book to learn when it all happens.

Gable treks through each of the seven Trumpet signs of Revelation, explaining their relevance and the “heavenly sign” which will trigger them. For example, the first judgment will arrive as the planet Saturn and the moon both participate in an eclipse of the sun, turning the earth into darkness during the daytime.

One of the more fascinating projections is the appearance of a light tunnel stretching from heaven down to earth, precisely at the time Gable calculates that the armies of heaven will arrive for Armageddon. Gable describes this tunnel like Jacob’s Ladder, enabling heaven’s hosts to travel down to earth for battle.

Gable feels no awkwardness in drawing on pagan mythology, as he points out common associations with the stars in antiquity. Jupiter is a messianic star, being associated with the Messiah. Mercury represents the Antichrist, Mars is the god of war, Neptune is the god of water and the sea. The meaning of the constellations, too, borrow from Greek and Roman mythology.

Heavenly Signs is stunningly beautiful, in full color. I’m a hard sell on the theology, but I strongly endorse Gable’s book for its authenticity of spirit and fascinating astrology.