vulgar homiletics and lowbrow theology
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That’s the headline they wanted to write.
Here’s the story.
This story isn’t surprising. While were were in Bethelehem, we learned that the Christian priests do not trust each other with the keys to the building. So when they lock up for the evening they leave the keys with…
(can you guess?)
...a Muslim family.
Oh yeah. That’ll preach.
God, on this night we remember the night long ago when your angels visited the shepherds proclaiming peace on earth. Yet we cannot help but wonder, where is this peace? We long, we cry out for your peace to come on earth. For those who this evening hold vigil in hospital waiting rooms, for those tethered to life by plastic tubes and beeping machines, we pray for peace. For those who sit in dark houses beside unlit Christmas trees, because they cannot afford to pay their bills, we pray for peace. For those who spend this evening dressed in military uniforms, we pray for peace. For the tiny remnant of Christian Palestinians who spend tonight walled into Bethlehem, where the place of your birth has become a prison, we pray for peace. For Israel, Gaza, the West Bank, and the Middle East, we pray for peace. For Alabama, and Birmingham, we pray for peace. For families with one less stocking over the fireplace this year, one less place at the Christmas table, for those separated from their loved ones by death or broken relationships, we pray for peace. For those to whom Christmas has become a time of bitterness and cynicism, we pray for peace. For our world, God, the world which you loved so much that you entered it to save us, for which you were willing to go through death and hell to save, Lord, we pray for your peace. Fix your shining star over the manger, our Savior, so that we may know where to look to find the Prince of Peace. Help us to seek peace not it weapons of war, or financial security, not in sex or the things we buy, but in the Prince of Peace himself.
I’ve heard and read numerous times that the average household has anywhere from 3 to 6 Bibles. I finally found a reference that Zondervan was the source for this figure. So I emailed them about it back in September. This was the response I got from Zondervan customer care soon after:
Dave,
Thank you for contacting Zondervan. From what I have been told this is not information that we give out. All I can tell you is that our research shows that the average household has 3 to 4 Bible’s
Thank you
Carrie
Zondervan Customer Care
So I don’t know quite what to make of this. I can’t find a reliable source for this figure. Any ideas?
I’m excited. I get to teach a version of Your Vulgar Bible as a Sunday morning class this winter. It’s a ten-week course and covers scatalogical humor, stories about sex and power, and scandalous theology. We will be exploring the stories of Ehud, Samson, Ruth, some parables of Jesus and some of Paul’s hyperbolic rhetoric.
I’m supposedly writing a book on this topic, but I was somewhat discouraged when I checked Amazon recently and found that someone has beaten me to it. Actually, there are several such books. But from a cursory overview I don’t see any that seem to address why the Bible is censored, what theological value there is to the “naughty bits,” and how we can wrestle with those texts in church.
The usual answer to the first question, why the Bible is censored, is that “people are uptight” about things like sex, violence, and poop. But I think there is more to it than that. I think that there are very powerful reasons for theological shallowness. There are social and political motivations for denying the incarnation. God in human flesh is perhaps the most terrifyingly threatening doctrine there is - far more threatening than the flames of hell or the final judgment. Those doctrines tend to support the status quo. Incarnation undermines it.
The word of God was wrapped in human flesh. This is, after all, what Christmas is about. He preached, slept, ate, and farted. Moreover, he continues to live wrapped in the human flesh of the church - in idea which leaves me both giddy and mortified. People who are too uncomfortable with this idea should try out a much less problematic religion.
Ancient and terrible God, tender and merciful God, God of wonder, you are so far above us and so distant. Yet you are also Emmanuel, God with us, Jesus Christ who walks among us and lives in us. We seek you and yearn for you even as we dread your judgment and fear the light you bring into the darkness, to reveal our secrets and our shames. Yet yours is a healing light, one that also lights our path. You sent your prophet, John the Baptizer, to proclaim that your Kingdom is at hand, and he told us to level the mountains and fill in the valleys, to make the crooked ways straight. Yet, O King, we have done the opposite. We have put obstacles in your path. We have raised the mountains higher, and dug the valleys deeper; we’ve widened the gap between the rich and the poor, the Northern Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere. We’ve made our own hearts crooked, preferring to follow our own selfish notions of right and wrong. We’ve set up our own private little empires without regard for your kingdom. Forgive us, we pray. And for those who walk through this season with heavy hearts, for those who are spending their first holiday without loved ones, for those who hear the tune “I’ll be Home for Christmas,” but who are in far off lands, or who have no home to go to – bring comfort to them. We know, Father, that in Jesus your judgment and mercy, your law and grace have drawn close to us; that still in spite of everything you call to us, whisper to us your words of peace. Let us hear your voice. And let us hear with fresh ears the prayer that Emmanuel taught us, saying… (Lord’s Prayer)
