2 Th 1:1-4, 11-12
31 October 2010
Reformation Day / Halloween
“Hyper”
As you
listened to the reading of our epistle text, 2 Thessalonians 1, did you notice
anything strange about it? Did anything
seem a little bit off? Could it be that
we didn’t hear all of it?
Here’s
one of those cases in which the lectionary designers have omitted certain
verses that might be considered problematic.
I think I’ve mentioned this before.
Sometimes the lectionary readings leave out parts that present a real
pain in the neck. Often they include
outdated or embarrassing ideas, like, “Wives, be subject to your husbands,” and
“Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything” (Col 3:18, 22). You will not find that in the lectionary!
What
gets skipped over in today’s reading
is some heated, and some would even say, vicious language. But we’ll get to that in a moment!
I can
understand the sentiment involved in not wanting to deal with some of this
stuff. But I can’t pretend that it isn’t
in the Bible. I don’t want to pretend that it isn’t
there. Actually, I have similar feelings
whenever I consider beginning a study of the book of Revelation. That’s probably the book in the Bible that’s
been the most horribly misused.
So, who
are these Thessalonians? Thessalonica
was the capital of the province of Macedonia.
As such, it was a major commercial center. The place endures to this day. As Thessaloniki,
it’s Greece’s second largest city. And,
as Banu once reminded me, while part of the Ottoman Empire in 1881, it was the
birthplace of Atatürk, founder of modern Turkey.
Paul’s First
Letter to the Thessalonians is probably the earliest writing in the New
Testament, dating to about the year 50. Among
the followers of Jesus, there was almost a universal expectation that he would
return in their own lifetimes. Jesus
himself spoke of signs, concerning the return of the Son of Man, that “this generation will not pass away until all
things have taken place” (Lk 21:32). That
expectation is heavily reflected in Paul’s letter.
There is some question as to whether or not Paul, or a
student of his, wrote the Second Letter to the Thessalonians. Whatever the case, we can still see this
earnest, even desperate, expectation that the day of the Lord is near—or maybe,
has already arrived!
The
beginning of chapter 2 shows the apostle’s concern for them—and what motivates
this second letter. “As to the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ
and our being gathered together to him, we beg you, brothers and sisters, not
to be quickly shaken in mind or alarmed, either by spirit or by word or by
letter, as though from us, to the effect that the day of the Lord is already
here” (vv. 1-2).
In the first letter, Paul has to reassure the
Thessalonians that their dearly departed will join them with the Lord when he
returns. They won’t be left out. It appears that now the idea is floating
around that the Lord has already returned.
As you might suppose, there is more than a little alarm. Why didn’t we know about it? What now?
As I already said, our lectionary reading presents
the beginning and the end of chapter 1.
Paul begins on a note of gratitude.
He gives thanks to God for the Thessalonians. The chapter closes with the apostle
commending them to God; he lets them know that he’s praying for God to fulfill
“every good resolve and work of faith” (v. 11).
In setting up his address to this body of
believers, Paul uses an interesting word.
This is the only place it appears in the New Testament. In verse 3, he gives thanks because “your
faith is growing abundantly.” The Good
News Bible says “growing so much.” The Greek word is uJperauxanw (huperauxanō). The beginning of that word translates into
English as “hyper.” Paul literally says
that their faith is “hyper-growing.”
He isn’t saying so much that they have “hyper”
faith, but the faith they do have is
in fact “hyper” growing. He praises them
for their “steadfastness…during all [the] persecutions and the afflictions that
[they] are enduring” (v. 4). They are
facing harassment. As author Bill Long
says, they are being “tested in the overheated cauldron
of tribulation.”[1]
Moving
to the middle section that was omitted, concerning their hyper-growing faith,
Paul says, “This is evidence of the righteous judgment of
God, and is intended to make you worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you
are also suffering” (v. 5). But let us
continue (and talk about hyper!).
“For it is indeed just of God to repay with affliction those who afflict
you, and to give relief to the afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus
is revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting
vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel
of our Lord Jesus. These will suffer the
punishment of eternal destruction, separated from the presence of the Lord and
from the glory of his might, when he comes to be glorified by his saints and to
be marveled at on that day among all who have believed, because our testimony
to you was believed” (vv. 6-10). There’s
some of that heated, and perhaps even vicious, language!
Long remarks on the rather abrupt change in tone: “landing us in the depths of tribulation and
punishment and exclusion from God when we started with gratitude.” He asks the question, “Is the flip side of gratitude
hostility?” Admittedly, not everyone
sees it that way.
He calls the whole affair “unintended Biblical humor.”[2] It’s certainly
dark humor. (I think Bill Long and I have similar senses
of humor!)
Earlier I said that the Thessalonians have been
alarmed at reports that the day of the Lord has already come. Regardless of how we view Paul’s
response—could he make his point in a way that seems to be less “hyper”—what cannot be denied is that this is a
church gripped by anxiety.
Even in the first century, not every church was
obsessing about the return of the Lord the way the Thessalonians did. The Corinthians, for example, had distresses
of their own. By the time of Martin
Luther, the corruption of the church had been building for quite a while. The selling of indulgences—essentially,
paying for loved ones to get out of purgatory—prompted the posting of his 95 Theses to the church door in
Wittenberg. (Today is Reformation Day!) These days, as then, there isn’t any single thing that makes us anxious.
Some would question how a church can, at the same
time, possess both anxiety and a faith that is hyper-growing. How can we be hyper in both ways? It depends on what we do with anxiety.
I just read a book by Peter Steinke, Congregational Leadership in Anxious Times.[3] Its subtitle is Being Calm and Courageous No Matter What. He’s a congregational consultant and former
pastor. His book is directed toward
church leaders, both the laity and clergy.
It doesn’t have a bunch of technical jargon; it has plenty of
illustrations that are drawn from his years of working with churches.
One of his themes is being a “nonanxious
presence.” I don’t suppose we can really
say to what degree the apostle Paul is a nonanxious presence. That would seem to be something that can only
be discovered in a face-to-face encounter.
I wonder about the lectionary compilers who omitted the middle part of
our chapter. Maybe they couldn’t
envision a nonanxious presentation of that stuff!
Steinke describes a nonanxious presence as
“[acknowledging] anxiety but not [letting] it be the driver of behavior.” He adds, “The nonanxious presence means we
are aware of our own anxiety and the anxiety of others, but we will not let
either determine our actions. Obviously
this means that we have some capacity to tolerate pain both in ourselves and in
others.”[4]
Anxiety, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing. Steinke notes, “Anxiety is always present; it
is a fundamental human expression, even a healthy response to life.” He quotes an author who jokes that “to be
alive is to have an anxiety disorder.”[5]
Anxiety is similar to the instinct of fight or
flight. When presented with imminent
danger, the survival instinct kicks in. To
fight or to flee? In the moment that the
cat sees the dog running toward it, it doesn’t have the luxury of exploring a
variety of alternatives. Quick action is
necessary.
We’re the same way.
In times of peril, or at least perceived peril, we also are prone to
snap decisions. It’s either this or
that; friend or foe; us or them. The
problem, as Steinke says, is this:
“Fixated on what is endangering us, we forfeit our imaginative
capacities.” We aren’t very creative. “We act with a small and sometimes
unproductive repertoire of behaviors.
With fewer alternatives, we act foolishly.”[6]
Anxiety is a given;
anxious times will occur. The question
is, “Do we learn from anxiety?” Can we
learn to observe ourselves? Can we learn
the art of self-management? It is
possible, and necessary, to not let ourselves be carried away by anxiety, like
ships driven in a storm.
In the midst of their storm, the Thessalonians exhibit
their hyper-growing faith. That’s not too
bad a model to imitate. But remember, they
are just people, with their own flaws. In
the midst of our storms—our anxious, hyper times—is it possible for us to have hyper-growing faith?