Jesus, My Husband?

Song-of-SolomonAnother story of a hymn ‘improved’ by hymnal editors.

John Newton, of ‘Amazing Grace’ fame, wrote another well-known, and a far better, hymn on the name of Jesus. It was published as part of Olney Hymns, a collaboration between Newton and William Cowper.

The original text of this hymn is given below. I have put in bold the parts that will be unfamiliar to almost anyone who will have learned this hymn from a hymnal other than Olney Hymns.

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear!
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
’Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.

Dear Name, the Rock on which I build,
My Shield and Hiding Place,
My never failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace!

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.

Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
O Prophet, Priest and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I’ll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath,
And may the music of Thy Name
Refresh my soul in death!

Why might the fourth verse have been almost universally omitted? It’s not fantastic poetry—in the Olney partnership, Cowper was the poet while Newton’s verse tends to be wooden at the best of times—but it’s good enough theology. You choose.

Far more glaring is the other change, the replacement of just one word in the fifth verse. The most commonly published and known versions have the first line either  thus:

“Jesus! my Shepherd, Brother, Friend, …”

or thus:

“Jesus! my Shepherd, Guardian, Friend, …”

(Some substitute the word “Saviour” as well.)

While there’s nothing wrong with claiming Jesus as our brother or our guardian—not to mention Saviour—that isn’t what Newton wrote.

In fact, the change makes little sense of Newton’s original. In Olney Hymns, this hymn is placed in a section called “On Select Texts of Scripture”, with the Bible reference in question given at the top of each hymn. The text of Scripture in question here was Song of Songs 1:3, which reads,

Because of the savour of thy good ointments
thy name is as ointment poured forth,
therefore do the virgins love thee.

This reference is clear in the opening stanza of the hymn. But the wider context is equally important: these are the words of the Bride in the Song of Songs, addressed to the Bridegroom. In typological terms, it’s the voice of the Church addressing Christ (Eph. 5:31–32).

To substitute ‘Brother’ or ‘Guardian’ for ‘Husband’ is to miss this point altogether. So why was it?

I can only guess. First, a quick comparison of hymnal versions on Hymnary.org (which only seems to include hymnals published in the USA) shows that whereas in the early 1800s, the text was left unchanged, by the middle of the 19th century the change was widespread (though the first edition of Hymns Ancient and Modern, 1861, still kept the original text). Is this a case of Victorian prudishness, preferring a more distant ‘Guardian’ or ‘Brother’ to the all-too-intimate ‘Husband’?

Of course, the other possibility is that hymnal editors found that the first-person approach was an illegitimate application of bridal mysticism to the individual believer, rather than to the church as a whole. While misguided, this could be understandable. Within Lutheran circles one might think of a reaction to the popularity of this theme in many forms of Pietism—but this shift didn’t take place in Lutheran circles. Since Methodism broke away permanently from the Church of England, Anglicans didn’t have a pietist problem, while presumably the pietists themselves (i.e. Methodists) wouldn’t object. I’m not convinced.

The third possibility is that such portrayals of the believer’s (and, by extension, the whole church’s) intimate relationship with Jesus were unfashionable because the theology underpinning them was unfashionable. Not only among Anglican and other Protestant hymn editors but seemingly across the churches of the Reformation.

For example, one of the notable features of The Lutheran Hymnal (1941) is the consistency with which bridal mysticism has been obscured or even removed from the translations of Lutheran hymns—all of which pre-date the heyday of Pietism (as I have complained here and here). There seems to have been a general disdain for this biblical theme which has an extremely good pedigree in theology and piety throughout the Church’s history.

The fact is, the Church is the bride of Christ. The husband’s body is no longer his but belongs to his wife, and the wife’s body is not hers but belongs to the husband (1 Cor. 7:4). And so, not only the Church as a whole but individual members of the Church belong to Christ as His bride, just as His body is given not only to the whole Church, but to each individual member.

Jesus is my brother and friend, but he is also my husband—or else, I’m not his at all.

Healthy Church Growth

… or how to shrink your church.

This blog post by Tim Suttle on Huffington Post has spread like wildfire amongst my Facebook friends—and quite right, too! I would not phrase everything quite the same way, but the basic point is spot-on:

The church’s task is to be faithful, not to grow—to be, not to do. That’s frequently not a recipe for success in terms we normally recognise: numerical expansion, popularity, wealth. But it comes with far greater rewards: the crown of life!

Here are a couple of extracts:

Success is a slippery subject when it comes to the Church. That our ultimate picture of success is a crucified Messiah means any conversation about success will be incompatible with a “bigger is better” mentality. Yet, bigger and better is exactly what most churches seem to be pursuing these days: a pursuit which typically comes in the form of sentimentality and pragmatism.

The fundamental problem with the one-two punch of sentimentality and pragmatism is, of course, the church’s job is not to affirm people’s lives, but to allow the gospel to continually call our lives into question. The church’s job is not to grow — not even to survive. The church’s job is to die — continually — on behalf of the world, believing that with every death there is a resurrection. God’s part is to grow whatever God wishes to grow. Growing a church isn’t hard … being faithful as the church, that’s a different story.

And the closing prayer:

So, God save us from the successful church. Give us churches who shun sentimentality and pragmatism and aren’t afraid to face the inevitable shrinkage which comes as a result of following Jesus. God save us from church leadership strategies. After all, it takes zero faith to follow a strategy, but incredible faith to pursue the kingdom of God and leave the rest in God’s hands. If I’ve learned anything as a pastor, it is this: faithfulness flies in the face of sentimentality and pragmatism, and if you pursue it you have to expect small numbers.

Amen and amen!

Read the whole thing here.

HT: Juha Santala et al.

On being one in Christ

 A paper presented to the Fareham Clergy Fraternal at St. Dominic’s Priory, Sway, Hampshire
11 May 2011

Ubi Christus, ibi ecclesia

Where Christ is, there is the Church. Whether we have thought about it or not, whether we would phrase it like that or not, we can’t get away from the simple truth: where Christ is, there is the Church.

In this reality lies our unity as Christians, in all its diversity. And in this very same reality lies also our sad, yet necessary and indeed legitimate, disunity.

Against this reality, Christians and churches are prone to sin in two seemingly opposite ways.

On the one hand, we are tempted by the sin of false exclusivity―of denying that the Church is found wherever Christ is found, because He is found over there, with them, who are not us and not like us and not with us. And so we make ourselves, likeness to ourselves, agreement with us, definitive of the Church―and thus deny Christ.

On the other hand, we are tempted by the sin of false inclusivity―of denying that it is in Christ that the Church is found. We define the Church in terms of our fellowship with one another, seek unity by seeking unanimity with one another and make common goals with one another, and set aside or ignore the differences that exist. And so we make ourselves, our agenda, our views, definitive of the Church―and thus deny Christ.

And of course, these two sins are really the same sin, differently applied. They both deny the reality of the Church as the body of Christ, and make it a body of believers instead. The only difference is in attitude and preference. One is inward-looking, the other outward-looking. But both are looking, not at Christ, but at self.

But let’s break things down first.

One of the great achievements of the last 100 years in the Church has been the Ecumenical Movement. Ancient barriers of hostility have been broken down globally, regionally and in local places. Many years ago I had the privilege of spending an evening in the company of the great NT scholar C.K. Barrett. In the course of the evening, he recalled a source of sadness from his student days at Cambridge in the 1930s: as a Methodist, never once was he allowed to receive Communion in the Anglican college chapel. These days, Anglicans and Methodists don’t only extend eucharistic hospitality to one another’s members, but in many places they have formed joint parishes. Many Lutheran and Anglican churches exchange members and clergy. There’s even traffic between the Anglican church and the Church of Rome, though that appears to be moving only one way at the moment. Amazing times!

One of the great battle cries of the Ecumenical Movement ever since its beginnings in Edinburgh in 1910 has been the prayer of Jesus in John 17: “ … that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me … so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” A united Church bears witness to the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, which is a mission imperative: “that the world may believe”! A disunited Church bears witness to a divided Christ, which is no witness at all. One Indian delegate at one of the early ecumenical world conferences begged the Western churches to sort out their divisions, because their divisions were such an obstacle to mission outreach. “Come and join the Church.” “Which one? ” “This one.” “Why this one, why not that one? Or the one over there? Tell you what, come back to me when you have sorted out which church is the true church amongst yourselves.”

We all recall Paul’s indignation at the divisions amongst the Corinthians, who had formed little denominations within their small congregation. Is Christ divided? Since the Church is the body of Christ, and since there is only one Christ, then there can only be one Church. And since the Church is the body of Christ, wherever Christ, the head, is, there the body, the Church is also. To deny that is to deny Christ.

As I said at the start, our unity is based on the reality that where Christ is, there is the Church. We can’t even establish unity with other Christians or with other church bodies―because if it exists, there is nothing more to establish. We are simply called to recognise such unity. It is Christ who establishes the unity of His body by grafting members into it.

But this is also where trouble brews. We all recognise that where Christ is, there is the Church. But let’s ask a few questions: Where is Christ? By what marks do I recognise Him?

Is Christ found in a particular hierarchy or organisation of the Church? Is He embodied in a particular episcopal office? Or should we seek Him in a particular set of experiences? Or a certain kind of ethos? Is Christ present in the Sacraments? Which ones? Or is Christ in fact absent with His presence mediated by the Spirit through some phenomena (which ones), or simply through the believer’s inner conviction? Or is it a particular theological confession, broad or narrow, that signals the presence of Christ?

I could go on. Given the very reasonable and harmonious gathering here present, the list may seem churlish and petty. But of course, any item on the list only seems petty to those who swear by a different item on the same, or some other, list. The claims of the Bishop of Rome, or of the signatories to the Lutheran Confessions, or the Lambeth Quadrilateral, or whatever theological touchstone you may have, are all based on the ultimate conviction that by them we can recognise Christ’s presence in His Church.

The relationships that follow are necessarily asymmetrical. The standard set by the Holy See of Rome may seem unreasonable and draconian to those who don’t believe in them, but to the Holy Father they are the logical outcome of His confession of Christ. The Lutheran practice of closed communion―only inviting other Lutherans to receive Holy Communion―is hopelessly narrow-minded and un-Christian to modern Anglicans and Methodists, but it is the only logical outcome of our confession of Christ.

Because that’s the business we are in: of confessing Christ, of saying, “ Jesus is Lord.”

The temptation is always to seek unity with one another, to make agreement amongst ourselves the goal, and to equate that with Christian unity. After all, Jesus prayed that we may be one.

But in fact Jesus wasn’t praying for His disciples to get along. He was praying for them to be one as He and the Father are one. The ‘as’ here is not quantitative, but qualitative. It’s not about how much the disciples are to be one, but in what way.

The Father and the Son with the Holy Spirit are one, because they are one God: three persons in one God. Christians are one with Christ, because they are in Christ―“I in them and you in me”, as Jesus said. And Christians are one with one another, because they are individually and collectively in the same Christ. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in Life Together, emphasises this again and again that once we are in Christ, we no longer deal directly with one another. When I see my Christian brother and sister, I see Christ in him and in her. I relate to her, not directly, but in Christ. Our relationship with one another is defined by the Gospel. We consider others better than ourselves, because we consider others to be the face of Christ to us. We forgive one another, because we are called to be the face of Christ to one another. We are to have the same mind that was in Christ Jesus, because we are in Him, He is in us, and to have any other kind of mind would be a denial of who we are in Him and who our brothers and sisters are in Him.

And so we are called to an essential unity and a necessary disunity. We must acknowledge and confess Christ wherever we find Him, wherever Jesus is confessed as Lord by mouths and lives. And for the very same reason, we must also draw lines where Christ is not being rightly confessed by mouths and lives. Jesus prayed for us to be sanctified in the truth of the Father’s word―that is, in Jesus. He in us and the Father in Him, that we may become perfectly one.

Let me finish by having a little trot on my hobby horse.

In the business of Christian unity, we should resist the temptation of taking comfortable shortcuts, of deciding to be charitable and reasonable with one another, without reference to Christ, for the sake of missions or outreach or for some other pragmatic goal. If we are to proclaim the Gospel to the world together, we must first agree on what the Gospel is and how it’s communicated to us. And so, for the sake of unity, we need to seek all the time to grow closer to Christ together, to be united to Him together. In the process, we will find ever more things that already unite us; and more things that divide us; that some of the things that divide us are not of Christ but of us and therefore don’t divide us; that some of the things that we thought were not divisive are in fact of Christ and do divide us after all.

In the meantime, we can continue happily and harmoniously to work together in those things that we have in common. This will then be our witness to the world: not ourselves, but Christ for us, Christ among us, Christ in us.

Adam and His Wife

Peter Leithart writes:

Yahweh put Adam into deep-sleep, death-sleep, in the garden.  When he woke he found Eve waiting for him.

So too the last Adam, who does into death-sleep, and whose first sight after waking are the women come to minister to Him.

But there is more: Yahweh put the last Adam into death-sleep in the garden. Like the first Adam, he woke not only to find a woman, but to have a wife: flesh of His flesh, to become one flesh with Him. At every Eucharist, in the Mystical Body, at the wedding feast which has no end.

Revelation, knowledge and the Church

The concept of a contingent revelation of God in Christ denies in principle the possibility of the self-understanding of the I apart from the reference to revelation (Christian transcendentalism). The concept of revelation must, therefore, yield an epistemology of its own. But inasmuch as an interpretation of revelation in terms of act or in terms of being yields concepts of understanding that are incapable of bearing the whole weight of revelation, the concept of revelation has to be thought about within the concreteness of the conception of the church, that is to say, in terms of a sociological category in which the interpretation of act and of  being meet and are drawn together into one. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Act and Being [DBW 2; Fortress, 1996], 31)

(Which raises interesting critical questions about the new theme of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, Martyria, Diakonia, Koinonia, which itself has been one of the slogans of the World Council of Churches for decades. Act or being?)

United they stand

From whence comes this unifying effect of the great confessions? It is explained by the fact that in the churches which still take their confession seriously something of that great earnestness is still alive with which the Word of God requires us to give consideration to questions of doctrine. This is the case also tehre, indeed, directly there, where the great confessional churches stand over against each other as such. … The serious Roman Catholic, the serious Lutheran, the serious Calvinist, the serious Anglican, the serious Baptist—all stand nearer to the eternal truth than the one who hazards making no confession because he maintains that the truth is finally undiscernable. And because of this, they also stand closer to each other.

H. Sasse, ‘The Question of the Church’s Unity on the Mission Field’, in The Lonely Way II, 194.

Et unam sanctam …

Hermann Sasse

If the church were constituted by our faith, then a series of churches would be conceivable, because there are varying views regarding Christ. Luther’s faith in Christ is something different than [sic] that of the modern American Protestant. But if Christ, the present Lord, constitutes the church, then there can be only one church, because there is only one Christ. Then this question is immediately raised: Where does this one church become visible? Where is it knowable for us as a historical reality? And this does not mean for us, Where do we find the people who belong to this church? but rather, Where do we find Christ?

But to this question we can give only one answer: Christ is present for us humans only in the Word and the Sacrament.

Hermann Sasse, ‘Church and Churches: Concerning the Doctrine of the Unity of the Church’, The Lonely Way: Selected Essays and Letters, Vol. I, 82–83. Emph. added

Why is the Church Apostolic?

I am working on my eternal project, a Master’s Thesis on the Porvoo Common Statement (PCS). On re-reading the Statement, I noticed anew the following definition of the Church’s apostolicity:

Apostolic tradition in the Church means continuity in the permanent characteristics of the Church of the apostles: witness to the apostolic faith, proclamation and fresh interpretation of the Gospel, celebration of baptism and the eucharist, the transmission of ministerial responsibilities, communion in prayer, love, joy and suffering, service to the sick and needy, unity among the local churches and sharing the gifts which the Lord has given to each. (para 36)

This is striking stuff. The basic message is this: the church is apostolic inasmuch (or insofar…?) as it does what the apostles were sent to do.

This is quite distinct from the understanding of apostolicity, which sees the Church as recipient of gifts through the apostles to her. In the context of the PCS, this is in partly a result of the necessity to re-interpret the episcopacy in a way that can encompass Anglican and Lutheran views as well as the burden of history, and part of a much broader tendency within the modern ecumenical movement.

It just seems to me to be a tragically narrow and (despite the best of christological intentions) geocentric understanding. To be apostolic is to do stuff, rather than to be something. How tiresome, how laborious.

Is this perhaps another corollary of Vatican II’s re-definition of the eucharistic sacrifice, and the broader re-conception of the Church as the people, rather than the hierarchy? After all, since Vatican II, it’s been explicit that at the Mass, the whole congregation sacrifices the Immaculate Victim, not only through the priest but with him. In a similar way, in PCS, the whole church does apostolic things, not only through the apostles (i.e. the office of the apostles in the Church today) but with them.

It’s also interesting to see that works of mercy and human care are also subsumed under the heading ‘apostolic’. Would be pernickety to quote Acts 6 to argue against this identification?