theologiaviatorum's reviews
206 reviews

I've been reading the Jesus Storybook Bible with my little boy. Sally Lloyd-Jones sat under Tim Keller, as she writes in her acknowledgments. Anyone familiar with his work can see his influence. The book is fantastic overall. It's appropriate for ages 4-8, about Kindergarten to 3rd grade. This book is really good news. It avoids the Moral Therapeutic Deism so popular in lots of Children's and Youth Ministry materials. This book isn't one that tells you to be good or that God just wants you to be happy. It tell the good news about what God is doing in the world, his "Secret Rescue Plan." Of course, we are invited to take part and so we get our ethics. And of course God is putting the world right so that we can be happy. But all of those things you are the result of God's action in the world. Lloyd-Jones takes each story and ties it to Jesus, this earning the title The *Jesus* Storybook Bible. Throughout the book God is pictures as good and benevolent and patient. Over and over we hear of his "Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love." His anger is never mentioned, even in places we might expect, like the Flood or the Exodus. So, when God's anger is mentioned in connection with the crucifixion it is very jarring and out of place. She writes, "The full force of the storm of God's fierce anger at sin was coming down. On his own Son. Instead of his people. It was the only way God could destroy sin, and not destroy his children whose hearts were filled with sin." I do not understand the crucifixion through Penal Substitutionary Atonement and it is completely contrary to the tenor of the rest of the book. As such, I count this an unfortunate passage. Still, overall the theology is good, the illustrations are beautiful, and the language is both accessible and poetic. 

Saint Antony is the Father of Monasticism, but Saint Pachomius—an imitator of Antony and student of Antony's strict pupil, Palaemon—is the Father of Institutional or cenobitic monasticism. Cenobitic comes from the Greek koinobios meaning "Common Life" or "Common Dwelling." Whereas Saint Antony's style of Monasticism was solitary that of St. Pachomius was lived in community. This is the earliest monastic rule which he wrote in response to divine command. "And as he was sitting in his cave, the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said to him: 'With regard to thyself thou hast become perfect and a superfluous abidance dost thou now live in the cave: and now go forth, and collect together the less perfect young men, and dwell and be with them: and as I give thee an ordinance, this teach them.'"

I've officially begun my monastic readings, and I begin where it all began, with St. Antony, the Father of Monasticism.  The Life of Antony by St. Athanasius was described by Gregory Nazianzus as a monastic rule cast in narrative. Broadly speaking, the first part of the work focuses upon Antony's ascesis (i.e. discipline) and his struggle against demons. The latter half of the work recounts the counsel he gave to his many visitors. This edition also includes Athanasius' Letter to Marecellinus on the interpretation of the Psalms. He describes the book as containing everything found in other books—history, prophecy, commands, gospel, etc.—but with the added advantage that it is written with an immediacy which allows the reader/chanter to appropriate the words as his own. So Athanasius sets out to enumerate the several circumstances of life and to assign psalms appropriate to each one. He encourages their memorization and recitation just as they are written. "[T]he Book of Psalms possesses somehow the perfect image for the souls' course of life. For as one who comes into the presence of a king assumes a certain attitude, both of posture and expression, lest speaking differently he be thrown out as boorish, so also to the one who is running the race of virtue and wishes to know the life of the Savior in the body the sacred book first calls to mind the emotions of the soul through the reading, and in this way represents the other things in succession, and teaches the readers by those words ... Do not let anyone amplify these words of the Psalter with the persuasive phrases of the profane, and do not let him attempt to recast and chant, without artifice, the things written just as they were spoken, in order for the holy men who supplied these, recognizing that which is their own, to join you in your prayer, or, rather, so that even the Spirit who speaks in the saints, seeing words inspired by him in them, might render assistance to us. For as much better as the life of the saints is than that of other people, by so much also are their expressions superior to those we construct and, if one were to speak the truth, more powerful as well" (14, 31).

Jerome Berryman is the creator of "Godly Play." In this work he broadly reviews the Church's attitude towards children from Jesus up to the present by taking a few representative writers/thinkers/theologians from each period. In this review he discovers four general views regarding children: 1. Ambivalence. 2. Ambiguity. 3. Indifference. 4. Grace. While all of this ultimately leads to his formulating a formal doctrine of children in the final chapters, he suggests that we learn from all of these writers and their several views. "There are no enemies here. There are disagreements to be sure, and there should be, but there is something to be learned from each theologian. For example, the controversy between Augustine and Pelagius was heated but helpful to sharpen thinking about the fundamental nature of children. If we only identify with the theologians in the past who sound like us today or support our personal views, then we will miss much of the basis for the grace that has carried this story forward to today" (203). Berryman views children as sacraments, taking his cue from Jesus who says, "Whoever welcomes one of these little children in name welcomes me" (Mk. 9:37). We meet Jesus in children, if we have eyes to see. And so, by meeting Jesus in them they teach us to be more like him. Berryman concludes his book by offering suggestions as to how children may be more central in our existing sacraments (whether we acknowledge two or seven—Berryman addresses seven). Above all, he wants us to love and embrace children. That is where change begins. "[Y]ou will slowly over time discover that when you welcome a child you welcome [Jesus] and the One who sent him. Such a fundamental discovery will enrich everything you do and show the way into the kingdom for you and the congregation. The congregation will become a healthy place, where unhealthy people can come to heal and all will thrive. The church will no longer be a place of ambivalence, ambiguity, or indifference toward anyone. It will be a place of grace" (256).

This is the last of the three-part written debate between Jeremias and Aland. This shortest of the three (85 pages) responds briefly to Aland's interpretation of the data. He also offers a short chapter on the theology of baptism, as Aland did in the previous book. He shows that to reduce the work of baptism merely to the forgiveness of sins is too reductive. Jeremias discusses the eschatological significance of the sacrament. It is not merely about individual or personal sins but about deliverance from and "age" which is under the dominion of sin and death. For myself I think the hand must go to Jeremias. Regardless, these are significant works which continued to be referenced in the discussion of infant baptism and I recommend them to any interested in the topics.

It bears repeating that this written debate between Joachim Jeremias and Kurt Aland is primarily a work of history, not theology. In this point by point answer to Jeremias Aland affirms his agreement with the theology of infant baptism. He does not, however, believe that the history bears out the continuous practice of paedobaptism going back to the apostles. He is able to conceive of the early church as containing the baptized as well as the unbaptized. He writes, "Probably the Christian faith began with a 'mixed crowd of baptized and unbaptized Christians living alongside of each other's ... The commingling of baptized and unbaptized members of the community was no problem in that era" (109). Here theology enters the discussion if only as an accident. Does it make sense to speak of "unbaptized members" of the Church? Further, would it have made sense to early Christians? Aland argues that infant baptism did not become widespread until the doctrine of Original Sin was sufficiently settled in the Church. Still, whether we have historical evidence of infant baptism as a continuous practice, Aland insists that we still have good reason to practice it. "[W]hether infant baptism is a valid expression in the later Church depends not so much on whether this continuity can be externally demonstrated but on whether it is now a faithful witness to New Testament baptism" (14). This is a challenging response to Jeremias and a wonderful demonstration of how the exact same facts may by differing interpretation yield different results.

This is the first of a written debate between him and Kurt Aland. This book is primarily a book of history. Whatever theology is addressed is more an accident of the historical question. Jeremias, arguing for the continuous Christian practice of infant baptism, takes us on a journey through the historical evidence in favor of its early practice. He addresses the New Testament text and evidence, early church fathers, and tombstone inscriptions. I personally found the discussion of baptism's relation to circumcision and the early baptismal/sacramental use of “Let the children come to me” was of most interest. This is a short work, only 98 pages. It is insightful for anyone interested in Church History, Sacramental Theology, or baptism in general.

Laird distills the wisdom of the Desert Fathers and provides an accessible guide through this ancient Christian practice. By use of a the Jesus Prayer or a Prayer Word matched with the breath, one learns to become a witness of one's thoughts and not their victim. We find Christ within us resting in silence and stillness. From that silent land within us where Jesus is our monastery we learn that we are not our thoughts. Our thoughts and our temptations, our anxieties and our emotions are like much weather passing by and overhead, but we are the mountain. For "Whoever trusts in the LORD is like Mt. Zion: unshakeable, it stands forever" (Ps. 125:1). We all need quiet. We all need stillness. Pascal was right. "The sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room." So "be still and know" that the LORD is God (Ps. 46:10). Laird is a spectacular guide to that mysterious journey.

This work by St. Augustine was one of the first works he wrote as a presbyter. It does not have the lucidity of his later works but is much more convoluted. Still, his object is an important one and unsurprisingly relevant. He writes to a young man lately come out from the Manichean religion of which Augustine himself was previously a devotee. The Manichees derided the Catholic Church for inviting people to have faith. The Manichees promised instead that they would offer reason, logic, proof, and understanding. This appealed to Augustine in previous years but he began to notice a number of difficulties with their promise. First, it never quite delivered. Each time he asked a question they could never offer an adequate response. Often they would promise that when their master arrived he would be able to answer the future saint's questions. But when the teacher finally arrived Augustine found him no wiser than the rest, though a deal more eloquent. Second, he realized that there are simply a number of things which cannot be understood by reason until the heart is first cleansed or prepared by faith. If one insisted on entirely understanding another before getting married, s/he would never get married. They are a great many things which are the reward, not the prerequisite, of commitment. It is only by giving oneself to the beloved that his/her knowledge of the beloved increases and deepens. It is no mistake, therefore, that the relationship of God with his people is so often described as a marriage. We learn to trust Him before we learn Him. Too often by insisting upon understanding we insist upon circumstances which forestall the granting of the very thing we seek. We do not understand in order to believe. Rather, according to that ancient maxim Cred Ut Intelligam, "We believe in order to understand."

This book is superb. The author, Joan Chittister, has lived the Christian year more times than I have the civic year. She is a Benedictine nun and served as prioress for twelve years to the Benedictine Sisters of Eerie, PA. In this book she takes you through the many days and seasons of the Christian calendar. It was a page turner. It was not only informative but it was a pleasure to read. I will end this review and recommendation with a few sections where her prose borders on poetry. • "For Christians, Sundays arrive like moments out of time, bringing, in their invisible mist, the sight of another way to be human" (33) • "By taking us into the depth of what it means to be a human on the way to God—to suffer and to wonder, to know abandonment and false support, to believe and to doubt—the liturgical year breaks us open to the divine" (58-59). • "We do not live the liturgical life to look good to other people. We do not develop a liturgical spirituality to affect a kind of spiritual dimension to our lives. And we certainly do not go to Mass regularly to avoid hell. We live a liturgical life in order to become like the One whom we follow from the manger to the Mount of Olives. We live liturgical life to learn to think like He thinks. To do what He would do. To make Him the center of our lives—not our work or our money or our status. In the cycle of the liturgical year we learn about what it means to live a Christian life. We learn to distinguish the important from the superficial things of life. It's not a history book; it is the celebration of the spiritual development of the soul. Liturgical spirituality is about learning to live an ordinary life extraordinarily well" (179).