Luke 24
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Reading Backwards, by Richard B. Hays
Richard Hays has said for years that he's working on something about "echoes of scripture in the Gospels." But life intervened, so he has produced this slim volume as an appetizer.
reviewed by Jason Byassee
Reading Backwards, by Richard B. Hays
Richard Hays has said for years that he's working on something about "echoes of scripture in the Gospels." But life intervened, so he has produced this slim volume as an appetizer.
reviewed by Jason Byassee
April 19, Easter 3B (Luke 24:36b-48)
Touch me and see, said the prisoners. Shake my hand and discover that I am human like you.
April 19, Easter 3B (Luke 24:36b-48)
Touch me and see, said the prisoners. Shake my hand and discover that I am human like you.
Hope for hurting bodies
The story goes that God got a body. I’ve often pondered the relationship between incarnation and pain.
Hope for hurting bodies
The story goes that God got a body. I’ve often pondered the relationship between incarnation and pain.
Blessing and withdrawal
From Easter morning until Ascension Thursday, Jesus is present and absent, enfleshed and distant, there and not there. He breaks bread and disappears. He shows up like a ghost, and then eats fish like everyone else. At the end of the story he blesses them, and then he withdraws.
It’s striking that the disciples’ response, rather than to be confused or bothered by this yes and no of resurrection, is to head back to Jerusalem and worship with great joy. I think I would have wanted more.
Resurrection, recognition, and revelation
My father died about three years ago. As May comes around, the azaleas spring to life, and I remember my father's passing. Just as sure as the tulips and dogwood blossom, my mind wanders back to my dad. Even when I begin to open up to these strange and wonderful stories of Easter, struggling with the notions of recognition and revelation, I think about the last few months of my father's life.
Resurrection, recognition, and revelation
My father died about three years ago. As May comes around, the azaleas spring to life, and I remember my father's passing. Just as sure as the tulips and dogwood blossom, my mind wanders back to my dad. Even when I begin to open up to these strange and wonderful stories of Easter, struggling with the notions of recognition and revelation, I think about the last few months of my father's life.
Resurrection, recognition, and revelation
My father died about three years ago. As May comes around, the azaleas spring to life, and I remember my father's passing. Just as sure as the tulips and dogwood blossom, my mind wanders back to my dad. Even when I begin to open up to these strange and wonderful stories of Easter, struggling with the notions of recognition and revelation, I think about the last few months of my father's life.
Resurrection by inches
It’s been seven years, and I cannot access Jesus' word of peace. The tears still sting and slosh over my pail of remorse.
Resurrection by inches
It’s been seven years, and I cannot access Jesus' word of peace. The tears still sting and slosh over my pail of remorse.
Seen and unseen at Emmaus
The story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is a favorite of mine. I love the image of pilgrims traveling together, struggling to understand tragedy and loss. I love that Jesus enters the story as a pushy traveling companion who sidles up beside them and talks their ears off for the rest of the trip.
And I love that it's not Jesus' incisive exegesis of the promises in scripture that open the disciples' eyes to his identity. It is his presence with them at a shared meal
Seen and unseen at Emmaus
The story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is a favorite of mine. I love the image of pilgrims traveling together, struggling to understand tragedy and loss. I love that Jesus enters the story as a pushy traveling companion who sidles up beside them and talks their ears off for the rest of the trip.
And I love that it's not Jesus' incisive exegesis of the promises in scripture that open the disciples' eyes to his identity. It is his presence with them at a shared meal
Sunday, May 4, 2014: Luke 24:13-35
Our eyes drink in the world around us, but our brains develop filters. I imagine Cleopas and his friend sifting carefully through what they have seen.
Sunday, May 4, 2014: Luke 24:13-35
Our eyes drink in the world around us, but our brains develop filters. I imagine Cleopas and his friend sifting carefully through what they have seen.
In the heavenly places
The preacher faces several challenges in these Ascension texts. How can we present Jesus’ departure from the earth as an occasion for not sorrow but celebration? How to translate the kingship and hierarchical language into imagery that speaks to a world no longer governed by kings and monarchs?
Feminist biblical scholars note a third challenge: How can we counter Luke-Acts' use of the Ascension to exert a degree of social control?
Ascension of the Lord, May 9, 2013: Acts 1:1-11; Luke 24:44-53
What is it those angels invite us to see on the earth from the Mount of Olives?
Believe what you can
“People must believe what they can,” writes George MacDonald, “and those who believe more must not be hard on those who believe less.”
Faith is a gift. We don’t produce it ourselves. We receive it. And we certainly can’t brag about having more of it than other people do.