Tag Archives: Tradition

Of Learning and Truth

Just as Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so also these teachers oppose the truth. They are men of depraved minds, who, as far as the faith is concerned, are rejected.
2 Timothy 3:8 (NIV)

In our regular morning perusal of the news over breakfast, Wendy and I have been reading a lot of conversations regarding the erosion of institutions that were once trusted. The government, main stream media, and academia are typically the trinity of institutions most often named and discussed.

I have dear friends who have spent their entire careers in the world of academia. They will often share with me how much things have changed across their careers and how the academic world looks far different than the one they entered in their graduate school years. As they share their stories, it is often done with hesitation and fear knowing that their career will be in jeopardy if anyone finds out that they are in any way critical of the institutional powers or speaking their honest thoughts and concerns.

I thought about the conversation regarding academia and my friends fearful critiques as I read the chapter this morning and Paul’ prescient description of a world in which individuals are “always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth.”

Speaking of always learning, Paul references two dudes named Jannes and Jambres who opposed Moses. The Bible nerd in me geeked out a bit this morning because the passage that Paul is referencing is Exodus 7:11-12 when Pharaoh’s “sorcerers and magicians” were able to make their staffs turn into snakes before Moses’ snake devoured theirs. But Exodus doesn’t name Pharaoh’s sorcerers. Yet Paul references them as if Timothy well knows who they are by name.

So, where did the names come from?

There is a whole group of books and writings that were widely read for centuries along side the books of the Bible. In fact, the Bible used by Roman Catholic and Orthodox believers still contain some of these books even though they have been excluded from Protestant Bibles for the last few hundred years. At the time of Jesus and Paul, these writings were read, studied, and well-known. Among them were works like The Targum of Jonathan, which was an Aramaic paraphrase of the Torah and The Book of Jannes and Jambres. Jesus, the apostles, and the early Christian fathers all read these works, commented on them, and quoted them just as Paul is doing to Timothy.

Jewish tradition from these works added that Jannes and Jambres were sons of Balaam. Yes, that Balaam. The same Seer for Hire and his donkey from the book of Numbers. Fascinating. I learned something new this morning.

To Paul’s point, however, it’s one thing to learn interesting facts but another thing to absorb and embrace the truth that’s sitting there in plain sight. Jannes and Jambres the sorcerers were archetypes of the type of false teachers Paul is warning Timothy to avoid. People who possess knowledge and perform spiritual theater but lack genuine transformation of the heart. Paul’s point is profoundly moral: just as Jannes and Jambres’ power was exposed as fraudulent before all Egypt, so too the vanity of false teachers who are ever learning but resistant to Truth and common sense will ultimately “be clear to all.”

So, in the quiet this morning I find personal whisper tucked in Paul’s allusion: Beware the inner magician—the one who can perform piety but resists obedience. The soul is capable of counterfeiting light, of dazzling others while existing within an inner darkness. But as in Pharaoh’s court, truth will always swallow imitation.

I find inside my heart and mind this morning a desire to be anchored not in performance, but in presence—rooted in the quiet, honest power of a heart that doesn’t need illusion.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Dedicated

“Speak to the Israelites and say to them: ‘If a man or woman wants to make a special vow, a vow of dedication to the Lord as a Nazirite…’”
Numbers 6:2 (NIV)

This past week Wendy and I were blessed to spend time with our friend, Eric, who just returned from completing 29029, a three-day endurance event in which participants hike a marathon each day for three days at high altitude. Our friend has been steadfastly training for this event for months. It was fun to listen to him share about his experience and the lessons he learned along the way. The lessons were layered: physical, mental, and spiritual.

What has been clear over the past several months is that completing this event required our friend to be dedicated. It was an all-day, every day endeavor from a mental and physical perspective. Like most people, I struggle just to get the amount of exercise to be healthy. My friend is in a special class of individuals dedicating themselves to reach a completely different level of physical performance.

Today’s chapter is unique and fascinating. God is preparing the recently delivered Hebrew slaves for an entirely new way of living life in relationship to God, one another, and the people groups around them. In the book of Leviticus God laid down the regulations for every Hebrew as it related to conducting themselves daily in the camp and in community together with God in their midst. In today’s chapter, God gives every man and woman a choice to reach a completely different level of spiritual dedication.

It was called a “Nazirite” vow and the person who took this vow was referred to as a “Nazirite.” The term comes from the Hebrew word nāzar which means dedicated, separate, and abstain. The Hebrew word nāzîr from which the term “Nazirite” springs is translated as a special class of people dedicated to God. It could also mean “prince” and was used to refer to grapevines that went untended and dedicated to God during God’s prescribed “sabbatical” year of rest. In other words, choosing to take a Nazirite vow as the spiritual equivalent of our friend’s choice to hike three marathons in three days.

The Nazirite could choose the length of his or her vow and period of their consecration. The Nazirite vow wasn’t complicated:

  1. Abstain from all alcohol, don’t even a grape or raisin.
  2. Don’t cut a hair on your head during the period of your vow.
  3. Don’t be in the presence of a dead body, even if your parent dies.
  4. Upon completion of the vow, go before the Lord at the entrance of the traveling tent temple, shave your head and burn it as an offering as part of a prescribed ceremony.

If someone accidentally had a coronary and dropped dead in a Nazirite’s presence, it was a complete do-over. They had to complete a seven-day purification and then start back at day-1 of their consecration period.

One of the details in today’s chapter was that the reason for a Nazirite not cutting their hair was “because the symbol of their dedication to God is on their head.” In other words, this is a public dedication, which both ups the accountability of the Nazirite to keep their vow and challenges everyone else with the daily public reminder. If the every day Hebrew struggled just to keep up with God’s daily spiritual prescriptions for life, the Nazirite was there to remind them that there is an entirely different level of spiritual dedication to which they can ascend.

As I meditated on these things, I was reminded that periods of spiritual consecration and dedication have always been part of the spiritual tradition for Jesus’ followers. When Jesus was asked why He and his disciples feasted and drank with sinners, Jesus replied that everyone celebrates and feasts with the Bridegroom. He then noted that a time would come when “The Bridegroom” would depart. Then His disciples would fast. And, followers of Jesus have always traditionally done so in various ways at various times.

Fasting during the season of Lent leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday is probably the most common, but from the early days of the Jesus Movement there emerged a group of dedicated mystics known as the desert fathers. Their dedication to an ascetic life was the precursor to the monastic movement that is still with us thousands of years later.

To be honest, this morning’s chapter feels a bit like a divine appointment. In recent days and weeks I have had thoughts about a special, personal season of dedication. Spiritually picturing the ancient Nazirites and their long hair in the quiet this morning served God’s original purpose, reminding me there’s an entirely higher level of spiritual dedication. So, I find myself in contemplation and conversation with God about it.

Along this life journey I’ve learned that there are times to dedicate myself to taking things to another level.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Promotional graphic for Tom Vander Well's Wayfarer blog and podcast, featuring icons of various podcast platforms with a photo of Tom Vander Well.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Traditions: Serious and Silly

Traditions: Serious and Silly (CaD Matt 15) Wayfarer

Then some Pharisees and teachers of the law came to Jesus from Jerusalem and asked, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat!”
Matthew 15:1-2 (NIV)

Traditions are a funny thing.

On one hand, I am a lover of history and so it easy for me to wax nostalgic about certain traditions. I can find incredible meaning and a depth of emotion within them. I can’t hear a horn blowing Taps without tearing up.

On the other hand, my individualist nature rebels when people take traditions too seriously.

In today’s chapter, there is an undercurrent that is easily lost on the casual reader. Matthew is careful to point out that some teachers of the law came from Jerusalem to inspect Jesus. Jerusalem was the home office. These officials were the big dogs sent to check up on all the rumors about an the upstart preacher who was #trending in flyover country by the Sea of Galilee.

The first thing that the grand inquisitors notice is that Jesus and His followers don’t follow the tradition of ceremonially washing their hands before they eat. This is a serious tradition that continues to this day. When I had the honor or visiting Jerusalem and enjoying a Sabbath feast at the King David hotel, there was a sink right there in the dining room for people to ceremonially wash their hands before the meal.

Traditions die hard.

Jesus pokes back at the inquisition, pointing out that they are rabid about the “tradition” of ceremonially washing their hands before a meal while completely ignoring God’s command to honor their parents if they can profit from it.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I mentioned in a recent post that I like hats. Growing up, I was forever getting in trouble with my father for wearing my hat at the dinner table. I always thought this odd because my friend Chef Alex is required to wear a hat around food to avoid hair falling into it. So the chef must wear a hat around the food but if I wear a hat at the table I’m offending people.

Even a year or so ago I stopped at my local church to pray during the lunch hour during our local gathering’s regularly scheduled Thursday prayer time. One of the sisters who serves by praying over people came by to ask if she could pray for me, which was kind of her. She, however, asked me to remove my hat as she was offended I would wear it inside the church. But, when I was in Jerusalem and attended synagogue or approached the Wailing Wall I was required to cover my head.

People are silly about traditions.

Jesus makes this point in today’s chapter though I have observed that it never gets much airplay on Sunday mornings. Poking at people’s sacred cows is a bit like poking a stick at a rabid dog. I’m not the sick one, but I’m probably going to get bit and I have to ask myself if it’s really worth it. When my sister asked me to remove my hat before she would pray over me I respectfully honored her request, though everything inside of me wanted to press her as to why she was offended. She probably would have quoted Paul’s letter to the believers in Corinth in which he says that, “Every man who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his head.” But he follows that up by stating, “But every woman who prays or prophesies with her head uncovered dishonors her head.” I noticed that my sister was not wearing a head covering.

Perhaps I should have offered her my hat.

I also noticed that Paul wrote to believers in four different letters to “greet one another with a holy kiss.” My prayer sister didn’t so much as pucker her lips as she asked me to remove my hat, dangit.

People are silly about traditions.

In the quiet this morning, I love the fact that Jesus poked the big dogs from Jerusalem regarding their rabid hypocrisy when it came to their traditions. Less than a week after Good Friday, I’m equally reminded that these same rabid, big dogs will quite literally kill Him for it.

People get very serious about their traditions.

As a disciple of Jesus, I personally prefer to care more about the heart issues Jesus was concerned about and less about human traditions that make little or no sense in the grand scheme of things. But, that’s just me.

“Down, Cujo. Down!”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Fasting and Temptation

Fasting and Temptation (CaD Matt 4) Wayfarer

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
Matthew 4:1 (NIV)

It is the season of Lent, a time when many followers of Jesus around the globe choose to fast in preparation for the annual memorial of Jesus’ death and subsequent celebration of His resurrection. Fasting is an ancient spiritual discipline. It is the conscious choice to deny oneself of physical appetites in order to focus heart and mind on things of the Spirit.

The first time I fasted for Lent was when I was a young teenager. It was sort of a bet with my father. My parents always ragged on me for how much Coke I drank, so I chose to fast from all pop/soda for Lent. My dad chose to fast from television. The thing was, Coke was easily replaced by other sugary drinks or even candy. My dad was a CPA and Lent always happens during tax season. So, I watched him come home and work all evening doing taxes at the dining room table rather than laying on the couch watching television. I’m not sure that either of us understood or embraced the “focus heart and mind on the things of the Spirit” part of the fasting equation.

Along my spiritual journey I have observed that people make one of two errors when it comes to traditions like Lent and fasting. One mistake is to take it too seriously so that over time it becomes an empty and impotent religious ritual. The other mistake is to ignore it completely as if it has no value. In that case, one misses out on the tremendous spiritual lessons and benefits that the traditions hold.

I have tried to strike a balance between these two extremes by approaching each Lenten season open to where I am in my journey and how God’s Spirit is leading me wherever I am on Life’s road. After all, today’s chapter states that it was the Spirit who led Jesus into the wilderness to be tempted. I believe that the Spirit’s leading is an ingredient that should not be ignored. Some years I have not fasted at all as I was not led. Other years I have been prompted by God’s Spirit to seriously fast for one reason or another. This is one of those years.

Perhaps because I’ve completed almost four weeks of my Lenten fast, today’s retelling of Jesus being tempted by the Evil One resonated deeply within me on multiple levels.

I have observed over the years that people tend to think of “sin” in terms of gross immorality, obvious deviance from what is socially acceptable, and behavioral over indulgence in sex, drugs, and alcohol. It was the same in Jesus’ day. He got in hot water with the religious establishment when he feasted with “sinners” who were known for their indulgences in such “sinful” things. Jesus made clear that His religious critics were nothing more than hypocrites, for the problem of sin is far more expansive than obvious public immoralities.

At the heart of it, the Evil One’s temptations were from his basic playbook. It has been said that evil cannot “make” it can only “mock.” Evil really isn’t that creative. The Prince of this World tempted Jesus in the same way he tempted Adam and Eve. Basic human appetites.

Lust of the eyes:
Adam and Eve: “It was pleasing to the eye”
Jesus: “All the kingdoms of the world and their splendor can be yours.”
Me: “Oh, I want that!”

Lust of the flesh:
Adam and Eve: “It was good for food”
Jesus: “You’re hungry. Turn these stones to bread.”
Me: “If one serving is good, then two is even better!”

Pride of life:
Adam and Eve: “It was desirable for gaining wisdom”
Jesus: “Prove me wrong. Fall and let the angels catch you.”
Me: “I’m good enough. I will do what I want to do.”

In the quiet this morning, I find myself thinking about the things of heart and Spirit that my Lenten fasting have brought to light for me this year. I am reminded how easily basic and good human appetites can be indulged in unhealthy ways. I find myself realizing that sin is not so much about gross immorality as much as it is about simply not being content. And, I find myself struck at how Jesus’ temptation is connected to Adam and Eve in the Garden, to the Hebrews in their wilderness wanderings, and to my own personal temptations springing from the Evil One’s well-worn playbook.

Fasting in this season is teaching me about surrender, contentment, and helping me understand my own unhealthy coping mechanisms. When Jesus was done with His testing in the wilderness, He launched into His ministry with spiritual vigor. I wonder what God might choose to launch me into at the end of this season. On the other hand, perhaps this season is not about launching anything but my own spiritual health. Fasting is teaching me about surrendering my own desires and expectations. If this season is about nothing more than me relearning some valuable spiritual lessons, then I’ll be as content with that as I am with the simple portion that is all I need.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Ritual and Spiritual

Ritual and Spiritual (CaD Lev 22) Wayfarer

“‘The priests are to perform my service in such a way that they do not become guilty and die for treating it with contempt. I am the Lord, who makes them holy.’
Leviticus 22:9 (NIV)

As I have shared before on this chapter-a-day journey, I was raised in the Methodist church that was steeped in the “high church” liturgical tradition. Robes, candles, pipe organ, two choirs, processionals, recessionals, lectern, altar, pomp, and circumstance. Every Sunday morning was a pageant.

Along with the pageantry, I remember being taught as a child about certain things being sacred. The minister was a special individual. He was special and you treated him as such. The altar in the church was special and children weren’t to be playing around it. The pulpit, which stood higher than anything else at the front of the sanctuary was reserved for the minister giving his message. On the opposite side was the lectern which was just like the pulpit only lower. This is where the lowly common people could read from or lead in worship. Above the altar was a giant cross from which hung a candle-holder. I was taught that this was the “eternal flame” that shone at all times over the altar.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the “eternal flame” was just a 40-watt light-bulb that sometimes when out until the janitor replaced it.

I couldn’t help but think about all of the pageantry of my childhood worship experiences as I read today’s chapter. God is addressing the High Priest, Aaron, and his sons, and He makes it clear that the offerings and sacrifices are to be taken seriously. He warns them about the propensity for perpetual human rituals to lose their luster and become so routine that they are no longer held sacred. When that happens, God warns them, it’s easy to begin treating the whole process with contempt.

“It’s just another sacrifice, like all the other sacrifices I’ve offered every day like the day before. Whatever.”

“It’s technically supposed to be an offering without defect, but hey, I’ve seen worse. I’m sure this isn’t the first lamb with a blemish to sneak through. Won’t be the last. Plus, the guy slipped me a couple of shekels to look the other way. Whatever.”

When this attitude prevails, it empties the entire ritual of its intended meaning. The whole thing becomes profane.

After responding to God’s call on my life, I wandered from the religious, liturgical traditions of my childhood. My journey led me through very different worship traditions that weren’t at all like what I experienced growing up. I’ve experienced and participated in all kinds of worship traditions along my journey. I have some observations.

First, much of the high-church traditions that developed out of the Holy Roman Empire have nothing to do with scripture or following the teachings of Jesus. Jesus and his early followers met together in people’s houses. They shared a meal together around the table and sang songs like you do around the campfire. Other than some relatively loose leadership structure mentioned by Paul, there is nothing in scripture that hints at anything like what “church” became once Christianity became the state religion of the Roman Empire.

The Holy Roman Empire was both a church and a government, which the empire had learned over the centuries required social order. Having proclaimed itself the one-true Christian church, religion added a whole new arsenal for maintaining law and order. First, they took the existing structure of church and created an official authoritarian class (popes, cardinals, bishops, priests) who alone held the power to control God’s word, grace, and the eternal status of a persons soul. Then, with all of the financial resources of the empire, they built breathtaking churches and cathedrals that were unlike any places most people had ever imagined. Inside these opulent edifices they created the mystery, metaphor, and pageantry of ritual worship that daily reminded every day commoners that there was the sacred or “clean” (the authoritarian class) and the common or “unclean” (everybody else).

“Clean” and “unclean.” Sound familiar? The Holy Roman Empire took the basic playbook that God had established in Leviticus and updated it for the purposes of political, social, and cultural control. Leviticus, however, was given to and for humanity in the toddler stage of development, teaching fledgling humanity about basic things like what is sacred and holy, how to live in community with God and others, and being different than those who indulge their sinful nature and chase after every base human appetite without restraint.

By the time Jesus arrived, humanity was ready for something new from a spiritual perspective. Humanity had grown and matured. An age of accountability had been reached. Jesus taught His disciples that the plan after his death and resurrection was for His Spirit to pour out and indwell each and every believer. Every believer’s body would now become the temple, the cathedral, and the Most Holy Place. No longer would people come to God in some physical cathedral fixed at a central location in every town, God would go out to everyone in the world through millions of flesh-and-blood temples, enlightened with the eternal flame of God’s Spirit, interacting daily with those stuck in darkness.

The institutional church of the Holy Roman Empire recreated a worship and societal system that perpetuated the spiritual day-care we’re learning about in Leviticus. As a child growing up in the liturgical high church, I learned the same lessons God is teaching the Hebrews. I learned that God is in the church on 49th street. The sanctuary and altar are “sacred” and to be considered “holy.” The minister is a special, holy person who alone can serve Communion, who can alone stand above us all in the sacred pulpit, and who alone can share with us God’s word. I am just a common, lowly sinner who should stay away from the holy altar and be awed by the mystery of the eternal flame (pay no attention to the janitor behind the curtain getting ready to change the light-bulb to LED and save the church a few pennies).

It’s no wonder in my mind that the “the dark ages” were soon to follow, both in history, and in my own personal spiritual journey.

Still, in the quiet this morning, I find myself reminded that Jesus said He came to fulfill what God started in Leviticus, not abolish it. He was not throwing spiritual babies out with the bath water the way humans have repeatedly done throughout the history of Christianity. The mystery, metaphor, and pageantry of the liturgical high church did, and does, have important spiritual lessons for me to learn and experience. Along my spiritual journey, however, I’ve had to learn to be spiritually discerning regarding the differences between what God says and prescribes in-and-through the Great Story, and what human religious traditions have chosen to do with it.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Essentials and Non-Essentials

Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?
1 Corinthians 15:29 (NIV)

Along my spiritual journey, I have worshipped and served in a number of different denominations and traditions. While they all shared that salvation was by grace through faith in Jesus, they varied in other thoughts, in their rituals, and in their worship. In some cases, I didn’t agree with some of what I considered to be non-essential beliefs, but I chose to respect them and to learn as much as I could. My experiences helped hone my own beliefs, taught me things I would have never otherwise learned, and gave me a far broader love for and understanding of what the Apostle’s Creed refers to as the “holy catholic church” which does not refer to the Roman Catholic denomination but rather to all believers everywhere, no matter their particular tradition or denominational bent.

For Paul and the other Apostles, one of the biggest challenges they faced was a combination of lack of human control, poor communication lines, and all sorts of competing religious thoughts and philosophies that crept into the local gatherings.

In today’s chapter, there are two fascinating things mentioned by Paul in one verse (the one at the top of today’s post). It refers to one major issue that became a major issue in the church in the first few centuries. The other is a curious and largely forgotten ritual. Let’s start with the major issue.

Gnosticism was an emerging religious philosophy in Paul’s day and took on many different thought traditions of its own. Basically, it taught that humans and the material world were the lesser meaningless creation of a minor god, and that the spiritual realm was the only thing that mattered. It also taught that salvation came from “secret knowledge” of one’s true and spiritual identity. So, gnostics denied Jesus was God (no spiritual being would choose to become human), Jesus died for sin (there is no sin, only ignorance), or rose from the dead (there is no bodily resurrection, only leaving the material behind to attain the spiritual). In today’s chapter, Paul is addressing some within the local Corinthian gathering of believers who are embracing the notion that there is no resurrection and undermining the essential core beliefs of Christianity.

In making his argument for resurrection, Paul mentions that some of the Corinthian believers were being “baptized for the dead.” He doesn’t explain it. He doesn’t condemn it. He just mentions it in passing as part of his argument and it doesn’t appear anywhere else in the Great Story. Apparently, Corinthian believers were being baptized on behalf of people who were physically dead in hope and anticipation of effecting that person’s after-life status in some way. We don’t know and the ritual obviously was not perpetuated, though the practice was curiously “resurrected” (pun absolutely intended) as part of the theology of Latter Day Saints in the 1800s.

A few days ago I quoted St. Augustine who taught that there should be unity in the “essentials” and liberty in the “non-essentials.” In the quiet this morning, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that we have in one verse a rather interesting combination of the two. For Corinthians to deny that Jesus rose from the dead undermines the foundational and essential belief of the faith itself and what Jesus Himself claimed and taught. At the same time, Paul references this curious practice of baptizing people for the dead, a non-essential ritual that was not widely practiced, never referenced anywhere else, and died away with time.

Along my spiritual journey, I’ve learned and benefitted from understanding the difference between essentials of my faith and belief in Jesus and His teaching, and the non-essentials of ritual and tradition that vary widely all over the world. I have learned from and even spiritually benefitted from learning and practicing non-essentials from traditions that are different than mine. I confess that some of them didn’t resonate with me or I found them silly. In all those different experiences, I met brothers and sisters who shared the same essential beliefs with me and whom I will enjoy seeing in heaven.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

A Die-Hard Tradition

A Die-Hard Tradition (CaD Heb 4) Wayfarer

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Hebrews 4:14-16 (NIV)

Priest (prēst) n. : Someone who is authorized to perform the sacred rites of a religion, especially as a mediatory agent between humans and God.

I’m wading into some deeper weeds today, but it’s something that has been important for me to understand in my spiritual journey, and it’s understanding the concept of a priest. A priest is a human mediator, go-between, or intermediary between another human being and God. A human goes to a priest to receive sacraments, confess sins, and be absolved of sin. The priest is a spiritual gatekeeper between the average joe member and almighty God. “Priests” have been a traditional part of religion forever. Growing up, the only “priests” I knew about were Roman Catholic.

The first time I remember stepping into a Roman Catholic church I was about 24 years old. I was there for the funeral of a young person who had taken his own life. In the years of my childhood, there were still small remnants of centuries-old antagonism between Catholics and Protestants. I remember that most towns had separate graveyards for Catholics and Protestants. I remember lectures from fundamentalist professors damning all Catholics to hell, which I found to be silly.

I was actually fascinated by the Catholic funeral that day and the rituals I witnessed for the first time. I was moved by the imagery. My study of the history, traditions, and theology of the Roman Catholic church has led me to a wide range of emotions from great appreciation to rage to honor and to sorrow. To be honest, I can say the same of Protestant denominations, as well. Human institutions are all human systems and are therefore given to the tragic failings of human beings and our nature. My observation has been that Roman Catholics make priests an official part of their system, while Protestants say they don’t have priests before treating their pastors as if they are exactly that.

For the Hebrew people who were first-century followers of Jesus, the priestly paradigm was a cornerstone of their religion for over a thousand years. The system God set up through Moses had a high priest who was the only human who could enter the “most holy place” of God’s presence in the temple. Only descendants of Aaron (Moses’ right-hand man) could be priests. It was an exclusive class of individuals who stood between the average human and God.

In today’s chapter, the author of the letter to early Jewish followers of Jesus is starting to address a huge paradigm shift in this priestly tradition. It’s going to continue to come up in upcoming chapters, and it has tremendous spiritual implications, so it’s important for a 21st reader to understand. Four times so far, the author has referred to Jesus as “high priest” and what the author is saying in today’s chapter is that Jesus was God come to earth, who was tempted but didn’t sin. Any believer can go directly to Jesus in our time of need, He understands our human struggles and will extend mercy (He won’t hold our sin against us) and grace (favor we don’t deserve).

In the quiet this morning, I find this simple truth so powerful. No more human mediators are required. Any believer can seek Jesus directly, access Jesus directly, confess our sins directly, and receive forgiveness, mercy, and grace directly. Why? Because my body is God’s temple and God’s Spirit lives in me. Because this is true of every believer, Peter says that every one of Jesus’ followers belongs to a “royal priesthood” (In Jewish history the monarchy and priesthood were separated, but Jesus unites the two as both king & priest). Paul wrote to Timothy: “For there is one God and one mediator between God and humanity, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all people.”

So, according to the author of Hebrews, according to Peter, and according to Paul, no other human priest is required as a go-between a human being and Christ Jesus Himself. Yet, some institutions and denominations continue the practice based on tradition.

I’ve observed along my life journey that human traditions die hard.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Wisdom in Knowing the Difference

Wisdom in Knowing the Difference (CaD Gen 24) Wayfarer

Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.
Genesis 24:67 (NIV)

I was in my late twenties and early thirties when I first began to ask a lot of questions about the systems and roles that influenced the child I was, the young adult I grew into, and the adult I became. For me, it is a worthwhile journey of self-discovery and understanding that continues as I progress into new stages of life. There are so many formative pieces of self that I did not, and do not, control. At the same time, there are so many pieces of life that I do control. As the Serenity Prayer so aptly requests, I have found that wisdom is required to know and embrace the differences.

Today’s chapter is fascinating on multiple levels. It tells the story of Abraham sending his trusted servant back to his family and tribe; The family and tribe he left when God initially called him to his faith journey back in chapter 12. The intent of the mission is to secure a bride for his son Isaac from his own tribe. The chapter describes this mission in detail and with it, we get a glimpse into the marriage customs of the ancient near east.

Perhaps it’s because I have officiated a host of weddings along my journey, but I have always been interested in marriage customs and rituals. What’s fascinating to me is the genuine lack of specificity given in the Great Story regarding marriage ritual or customs, and the genuine, legalistic rigidity with which institutional churches, denominations, and members become entrenched despite there being zero biblical support for most all of it.

Once again, I’ve found it helpful to be honest about what is essential (e.g. sacrificial love, spiritual union, honor, intimacy, fidelity, consideration, separation from the childhood family system and the origination of a new family system together) and what is completely absent in scripture (e.g. engagement rules, betrothal rules, and/or wedding ritual, and what exactly determines the moment and reality that two people are “married” to one another). In today’s chapter, Rebecca leaves her family, is led by her fiance into the tent of his deceased mother. BOOM they are married.

Was there a ceremony? Doesn’t say.

Was the act of sexual intercourse a determining factor? Doesn’t say.

Is it possible that the spiritual union of a man and woman that transforms them into husband and wife can and does happen without a marriage license from the county, a church official making a pronouncement, and a public wedding ceremony? Doesn’t say.

Is it equally possible that a man and woman can get a marriage license from the county, have a church official pronounce them married at a public ceremony in front of many witnesses, and yet never experience the spiritual union that transforms them into husband and wife? Doesn’t say.

And yet, along my spiritual journey I have observed many human religious rituals that don’t appear to have any transformative spiritual effect. I’ve also observed spiritual transformations in individuals that have nothing to do with any institutional religious ritual or involvement.

Today’s chapter describes how families arranged a marriage in ancient Mesopotamia which bears little resemblance to the free will engagements two people make in modern American culture. There are no specifics about what exactly made the marriage other than an agreement, two people entering a tent, and the fruit of love.

So in the quiet this morning, I find myself asking a lot of questions that don’t have specific answers in the Great Story. And, while I don’t have a lot of specific answers, I find myself comfortable with the conclusion that marriage as described in the Great Story is not about paperwork, cultural tradition, and religious ritual. It’s about sacrificial love, spiritual union, honor, intimacy, fidelity, consideration, separation from the childhood family system and the origination of a new family system together. There’s wisdom in knowing the difference.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Of Traditions

Of Traditions (CaD Ps 124) Wayfarer

Our help is in the name of the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 124:8 (NIV)

Here’s a little trivia for you: The now almost requisite playing of the Star-Spangled Banner at sporting events dates to 1918 at the first game of the World Series between the Cubs and the Red Sox. The series almost didn’t happen that year because so many Americans were across the Atlantic fighting in World War I. Fred Thomas, the Red Sox’ Third Baseman, and furloughed U.S. sailor got up during the seventh inning stretch and sang a moving rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner. At that point, it wasn’t even the national anthem (that happened in 1931). It was so moving that it became a seventh-inning-stretch staple. During WWII, technology allowed for the anthem to be played by recording and it was moved from the seventh inning stretch to before the ball game. Other sports followed.

Obviously, the anthem has been a point of tension in recent years. It’s just interesting to me to realize that there were many decades of professional baseball when that the tradition didn’t exist. I find it fascinating how traditions can become so important to us as human beings, whether those traditions are religious, civic, social or familial. Messing with traditions can create major disruption in any human system.

I thought about the national anthem as I read today’s chapter, Psalm 124. The lyrics of this Hebrew pilgrim’s song read like a community anthem reminding the traveler of God’s blessing on their nation and deliverance from many enemies. The lyrics basically read like a national anthem for the Hebrew nation, and thinking of it being a tradition for Hebrew pilgrims to sing it while on pilgrimage to Jerusalem makes me think that it’s not that much different than the Star-Spangled Banner before every ballgame, or singing God Bless America at the ball game on Sunday.

When the songwriter of Psalm 124 penned “the flood would have engulfed us” the imagery was that of a dry river bed that fills up suddenly during seasonal rains and creates devastating flash floods. It’s a metaphor for the warfare and pillaging attacks that happened seasonally, just like the rains.

The song is structured for the first stanza to be sung by an individual leader, describing what would have happened had God not been with them. The second stanza is sung by all the people, praising God for deliverance from their nation’s enemies.

I find myself meditating on traditions in the quiet this morning. Wendy and I even talked about the season of Lent which our local gathering of Jesus’ followers is in the midst of celebrating. Lent is a tradition of followers of Jesus that goes back as early as 325 AD. There is nothing written in the Great Story in regard to it and there’s no requirement to celebrate it in any way. It’s simply a tradition that annually connects followers to Jesus’ story. That’s the way I’ve personally always approached Lent and every human tradition for that matter.

I’ve observed along my life journey that traditions can be a great way to remind a group of human beings about any number of things we find important from gratitude, to sacrifice, to history, and to matters of Spirit. I’ve also observed that when traditions themselves become sacred to the human beings within the system, then the meaning of the tradition can often be lost. The reason behind the tradition sometimes loses focus or potency as the tradition itself becomes the focus of the human system that holds it. I have experienced that the breaking of certain traditions has been a spiritually healthy thing for me personally. I have also found that rediscovering lost traditions, that may have needed to go away for a time, can be equally as healthy to my spiritual journey.

Of Change and Health

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Awake, harp and lyre!
    I will awaken the dawn.

Psalm 108:2 (NIV)

Do you ever have random conversations that stick in your memory? I was on a trip with a colleague. While aware that we are each followers of Jesus, we didn’t talk about spiritual things very often. My colleague comes from a very conservative, almost fundamentalist viewpoint on things and he surprised me by wanting to ask my opinion about the weekly worship among the institutional church where he was a member.

It happened that my colleagues tribe had recently made the switch from a very traditional worship experience that involved singing traditional hymns, many of them having been in existence for hundreds of years. The church was migrating to using songs of the present-day genre. He was clearly struggling with this.

I have shared many times that I have been a spiritual wayfarer who has experienced and participated in a rich diversity of spiritual traditions. I have been in the emotionally rockin’ pentecostal tradition, the corporate silence of the Quaker Meeting House, the high-church liturgy of Roman Catholic church, the call-and-response of the black church, the intellectual approach of mainline institutions, the simplicity and sincerity of rural worship in a developing country, and the down-home family environment of a “house church.” My attitude has never been to ask “Which is right?” In fact, I’ve never really worried about asking “Which is right for me?” I’ve always tried to be fully present where I have been been led and ask myself “What good can I gain from this experience?”

I am aware, however, that my colleague has a more black-and-white view of both faith and life. The change in music genres within his local gathering had him rattled.

Colleague: “I’m struggling with these ‘seven-eleven’ songs. It’s the same seven lines sung eleven times.”

Me: “You mean like Psalm 117 that only has two lines which were likely repeated in worship?”

Colleague: “It’s just so repetitive. Singing the same thing over and over.”

Me: “You mean like Psalm 136 that repeats ‘His love endures forever’ twenty-six times?”

Colleague: “It’s not right. They take little pieces of a great hymn and mess it up by changing it. It was meant to be sung in its entirety!”

As this point, I could have pointed my colleague to today’s chapter, Psalm 108, because the entire thing is simply a cut-and-paste mash-up of Psalm 57:7-11 and Psalm 60:5-12. In fact, there are multiple examples both in the Psalms and in the writings of the ancient prophets when entire sections would be cut-and-pasted into an updated work. There are also examples of this in other ancient Mesopotamian cultures. It was quite common.

I don’t really know how the conversation landed with my colleague. I could tell that he was disappointed (maybe even a little frustrated) that I didn’t agree with him and provide him an affirmation of his opinions. He never brought it up again.

In my life, I have found change to be really difficult for people in almost any circle of life. When you mix in both change and religious tradition it can take on an added layer of emotion. Suddenly the change gets escalated to a level of religious orthodoxy. Sides are taken. The discussion escalates to arguments. Then comes entrenchment. Very often the next step is the severing of relationships. Groups split.

Along my spiritual journey, I have always assumed that change is a natural part of creation. Most things in life cycle in one way or another. What goes around comes around. Styles come back around and get freshened up. Religious traditions and practices that were once abandoned as “old and outdated” come back in vogue to bless a new generation of Jesus’ followers.

So it is that as I watch the changes that constantly happen around me on multiple levels, I try to keep my emotional reactions in check. Instead of digging in my heels and demanding that my love of the perfectly acceptable way of doing things is understood, I try to divert my energy to asking “What good might be gained from this change?”

In the quiet this morning, I find myself reminded of a mantra that I was introduced to by my friend. It made its way around the internet and I am unsure of the source. I once used it in a message, but I don’t know that I’ve ever referenced it in one of my chapter-a-day posts. It’s always stuck with me:

Healthy things grow.
Growing things change.
Change challenges me.
Challenges force me to trust God.
Trust leads to obedience.
Obedience makes me healthy.
Healthy things grow.
..