Category Archives: Theology

Weakness in Power

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[This is the fourth in a series of sermons in interpreting America in the 21st century in light of the Book of Revelation. The series will continue, monthly for about two years.]

Ted Grimsrud

Revelation 3:1-22—Shalom Mennonite Congregation—January 22, 2012

So, what is the book of Revelation really about? Since it has been two months since my last sermon, you all have probably forgotten….Let me suggest one word that I believe is at the center of the book: Power.

We may read Revelation as a book of conflicts—the Beast vs. the Lamb, the Holy Spirit vs. the False Prophet, Babylon vs. the New Jerusalem. The question is: Who is more powerful? Which is actually the question: What kind of power is more powerful —the power to conquer through domination or the power to conquer through self-giving love? On this question hangs the fate of the earth, perhaps we could say. Certainly, for John the writer of Revelation, on this question hangs the fate of the churches.

The seven messages that make up chapters two and three, the first of Revelation’s many visions, set the book’s agenda. In my last sermon, I talked about “power in weakness”—how the little church in Smyrna, besieged, suffering persecution, with little visible power, actually was praised above all the other churches and proclaimed to be rich indeed.

Today, I will focus on “weakness in power”—how the big church in Laodicea, wealthy, comfortable, lacking in nothing, actually was condemned above all the other churches and proclaimed to be “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” Continue reading →

John Howard Yoder and Contemporary Anabaptist Theology

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Ted Grimsrud – June 2011

Is there such a thing as “Anabaptist theology” for the present day? Is seeking to construct a distinctively Anabaptist theology an appropriate task for the 21st century?

John Howard Yoder did not consider himself a systematic theologian, and as far as I know would not have called himself a constructive theologian. However, his work certainly directly related to the task many Mennonites, and others who would also think of themselves as spiritual descendants of the 16th century Anabaptists see as vital for the viability of Mennonite and other Anabaptist communities—namely, self-conscious work at articulating their theological convictions in ways that might provide sustenance to their tradition.

Yoder’s model I will call “practice-oriented” theology. To help understand Yoder’s approach, and why it’s an exemplary model for those of us engagement in the work of constructive Anabaptist theology for the 21st century, I will first look at a quite different model for contemporary Anabaptist theology and reflect on the differences between these two models.

Tom Finger, like many other Mennonite writers wrestling with the challenge of working within the Anabaptist tradition (notably a marginal perspective in the history of Christian theology), seeks to find links of commonality with more mainstream traditions. In doing so, he takes an approach I will call “doctrine-oriented” theology.

Finger’s work has many characteristics unique to his own perspective, certainly, yet in relation to the key points I will focus on, his approach is at least somewhat representative of the general approach taken by Anabaptist-Mennonite theologians seeking rapprochement with mainstream theologies.

I understand the central characteristics of “Anabaptist theology” to be centered in an integration of theological convictions with ethical practices.  The ethical commitments of the sixteenth century Anabaptists such as their pacifism, their emphasis on economic sharing, and their rejection of the subordination of the church to nation-states, reflected a distinctive theology that placed central importance on commitment to the way of Jesus in costly discipleship. Continue reading →

Revelation Notes (Chapter 2)

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Ted Grimsrud—December 10, 2011

[See the notes on Revelation 1]

The first thing to notice when we begin to look at the messages to the seven churches of Asia that make up chapters two and three is that they are part of the same vision that began in 1:9 when John hears a “loud voice” telling him to write this book that records what he will see and “send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus, to Smyrna, to Pergamum, to Thyatira, to Sardis, to Philadelphia, and to Laodicea” (1:9-11).

John turns “to see whose voice it was that spoke to me” (1:12), at which point the first vision of the book begins. John learns that the voice speaking to him is Jesus. In the immediate vision, John sees many images that put together form a kind of Christology. Many of these images are then incorporated in the seven messages to come. As we move on to chapter two, we should not be misled by the chapter break in our English translation. The original did not have such breaks, and it would have been clear to the first listeners/readers that this one vision of Jesus that begins the series that John will report on throughout the book includes both the word-picture of Jesus presented in 1:12-20 and the messages this same Jesus gives to the seven churches in chapters two and three.

These messages, thus, tells us several crucial things for understanding the book as a whole, including not least a fleshing out of the picture of Jesus—the one who John announces with the first words of the book is the subject of the one “revelation” the book gives. These messages are not of interest only for what they tell us about the seven churches and their environments but also for what they tell us about the giver of the messages. They also, clearly, by their place in the larger narrative of the book, set the agenda for the book as a whole. If we want to understand the later visions, we must always return to these seven messages that provide the context for the visions that follow. Continue reading →

A Christian Pacifist Perspective on War and Peace

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Ted Grimsrud

Presented at Conference on Religion and Peace—James Madison University—April 11, 2005

As a Christian pacifist theologian, I find it more than a little ironic that many Christians in the United States compare Christianity to other religions, especially Islam and Judaism, by asserting that Christianity is more peaceful.  They presumably base such a claim on the teachings of Jesus, who they affirm as central to their faith.  However, looking at the message of Jesus only underscores how much blood we Christians actually have on our hands over the past two millennia, how far most Christians over most of Christianity’s history have moved from our namesake’s words such as “love your enemies,” “turn the other cheek,” and “Father, forgive them” when it comes to issues of war and peace.

This is to say, as I write about a Christian perspective on war and peace I recognize just how tiny of a minority within the Christian tradition I represent.  Most Christians are not pacifists; only a few have ever been, at least in the years since 300 CE.  However, I will suggest that pacifism has strong grounding in the basic storyline of the Christian Bible, that pacifism is in fact the original (or default) position of Christianity, that pacifism has always existed as an option for Christian believers, and that following the 20th century, the century of total war, Christian pacifism has more relevance (and more adherents) than ever before.[1]

I need to start with some definitions before outlining the biblical grounding for Christian pacifism.  The most common definitions of “pacifism” focus on what pacifism rejects, characterizing pacifism as the in-principled rejection of participation in warfare.  Some pacifists would say that all war is wrong, others more that they simply themselves will never fight.  Focusing on what pacifism affirms, I define pacifism as the conviction that nothing matters as much as love, kindness, respect, seeking wholeness.  Hence, nothing that would justify violence matters enough to override the commitment to love.  In my understanding, pacifism is a worldview, a way of looking at reality;[2] there is a pacifist way of knowing, a pacifist way of perceiving, of discerning, of negotiating life.

The term “nonviolence” is recently prominent as a near-synonym for pacifism.  I will use the terms interchangeably, though if we trying to be truly precise, we could find nuances that might make us want to differentiate between the two terms.[3]

My definition of pacifism more in positive, worldview terms links more closely with the logic of the biblical story than simply defining pacifism as the rejection of warfare.  The Bible, famously, does not overtly reject warfare for believers; in fact, in certain notorious cases the Bible actually commends, even commands, God’s people fighting.[4]

Continue reading →

Power in Weakness

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[This is the third in a series of sermons in interpreting America in the 21st century in light of the Book of Revelation. The series will continue, monthly for about two years.]

Ted Grimsrud

Revelation 2:1-29—Shalom Mennonite Congregation—November 13, 2011

Imagine getting something by mail-order, say a computer, that you have to do some assembly on before you can use it, like maybe add some memory. You want to save some money and do it yourself. It seems so easy. And imagine that this computer and the memory chips come with instructions telling you how to install the memory. But then imagine you think you know what you are doing, so you don’t bother with the instructions. What might happen?

Well, I can imagine this scenario pretty easily, since I lived it. And what happened was that I tried to force the memory chip into place the wrong way and ended up breaking the memory chip holder. Not too bright.

I thought about that embarrassing memory as I was reflecting on the role that chapters 2 and 3 play in the book of Revelation. These chapters contain messages to seven churches in cities in northeastern corner of the Mediterranean. Most typically, these letters are read as our last moments of sanity before we enter into the craziness of Revelation’s visions. But we don’t usually think of them as the key to understanding the visions.

I think that’s what they are, though. The seven messages are kind of the instructions for understanding the rest of the book. To interpret the visions without paying close attention to the letters is like my trying to install the memory in my new computer without looking at the instructions. Continue reading →

Commentary on Revelation One

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Ted Grimsrud—October 2011


Introductory thoughts

Most scholars place the writing of Revelation in the final decade of the first century, during the reign of the Roman emperor Diocletian. Despite ancient traditions that have linked the “John” of Revelation with John the Apostle, the recent consensus has concluded that Revelation’s John is almost surely an otherwise unknown preacher/prophet. Since this John thus has little authorial authority, our estimation of his skill and insight must be based totally on the contents of the book itself.

Not only our estimation of John’s authority, but also our sense of the broader context of the book pretty much completely rests on references within the book itself. So we will need to be attentive to those references as we go along.

The other standard issue of introduction has more to do with hermeneutics. How are we to read Revelation? What do we expect to find herein? Should we mine Revelation for predictions concerning future events? Should, instead, we mainly look at Revelation as an important historical source for first-century apocalypticism? Or, as a third option, should we engage Revelation as “churchly” literatures, writings born out of faith and speaking with continuing relevance to people of similar convictions concerning Jesus’ lordship and Christians’ call to follow his way in a traumatic world?

Again, how we answer these expectations questions will be determined as we move along and consider the contents of the book.

1:1-8—Introduction and Salutation

The first few words of the book already puts the cards on the table in relation to our reading strategy of Revelation. We can think of three distinct options that highlight different terms and motifs at the beginning—and that as a consequence of their distinctive emphases go on to read the book as a whole in significantly divergent ways.

One stand picks up on the first word, “Revelation.” The Greek is Apocalypsie, the source for our word “apocalypse” and “apocalyptic.” This emphasis places the priority on Revelation as apocalyptic writing, part of a distinctive genre of literature that flourished in the ancient near east in the generations prior to and following after Jesus’ time. In this approach, Revelation is read first of all in relation to other apocalyptic literature, with an emphasis placed on its distinctiveness among the biblical writings.

A second strand emphasizes the phrase, “to show his servants what must soon take place.” For those with this emphasis, Revelation is read first of all as predictive literature, providing insights into future events.

A third approach, characteristic of this study, places the emphasis on the second and third words of the book, “Jesus Christ.” Revelation may (I would say, should) be read in the context of the New Testament and broader biblical story of salvation that culminates in the life and teaching of Jesus.

When we place the priority of the “Jesus Christ” emphasis, and decide to read this reference to Jesus Christ as a signal that this book is self-consciously placing itself within the Gospel story of Jesus’ disclosure of God among human beings, we will assume Revelation is best read in continuity with Jesus’ message. Continue reading →

Why We Christians Don’t Love Our Enemies

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Ted Grimsrud—September 24, 2011

If there is one passage in the entire Bible that points to both the glory and the shame of Christianity, it is this famous statement by Jesus: “I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven” (Mt 5:44-45).  Here we have a direct statement of a profound ideal, a call to break the cycle of violence that so bedevils our world.  And here we have as stark a reminder as we could imagine of just how far Christianity tends to have strayed from the will of its founder.

“Love Your Enemies”: An Obvious Need in Our World

“Love your enemies,” such an obvious statement of what our world needs.  We see so clearly in our present day how hatred of enemies fuels war with simply incredible costs – in the name of stamping out “terrorists” our country spends billions upon billions to pour violence upon the nation of Iraq, diverts resources in a way that made the Gulf Coast more vulnerable to devastation from recent hurricanes, alienates people throughout the world, sends hundreds upon hundreds of our soldiers to their death along with thousands upon thousands of Iraqis.  This hatred fuels a spinning cycle, eye for an eye for an eye leading to more and more blindness.

Hatred of enemies fuels our nation’s prison-industrial complex, sending millions behind bars where they are all too often brutalized, infected with devastating diseases such as hepatitis, permanently disenfranchised as stakeholders in civil society (as someone said, no matter how long a convicted criminal’s official sentence might be, it is invariably a “life sentence” in terms of the impact going to prison has on one’s life).  In the name of “security,” we only increase the spiral of destruction and alienation.

In many other ways as well, hatred of enemies leads to unhappiness, brokenness, pain being visited upon pain – and the cycle of creating only more hatred.  So, Jesus’ words cut like a warm knife through butter.  He gets to the heart of things – we need to find ways to love instead of hate.  We need to find ways to forgive instead of simply punish.  We need to find ways to heal when there is brokenness, not simply retaliate. Continue reading →

The 21st Century According to the Book of Revelation

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[This is the first in a series of sermons in interpreting America in the 21st century in light of the Book of Revelation. The series will continue, monthly for about two years.]

Ted Grimsrud

Shalom Mennonite Congregation—September 11, 2011

I have a memory I can’t get rid of. It’s from now over forty years ago, but it remains etched, vividly, in my mind’s eye. I grew up in the tiny town of Elkton, in southwestern Oregon’s Coast Range. The next town 14 miles away, our archrival, is Drain. (We told this joke: Why is Oregon so wet? It only has one small Drain.)

We drove over to play them in basketball my junior year in high school. Drain was bigger and they were in the next higher classification (for small schools instead of tiny schools). So this was big for us. And we beat them in an intense game, by two points.

I should add here I have another vivid memory from that night. My dad was our coach; he coached for 29 years. In all those years, he got one technical foul called on him. It was that night. And it was because of me. The refs called a foul on me, a bad call of course. And my dad hopped off the bench to protest. His only technical ever. I realized then that he really did care about me.

As you can imagine, on the bus ride home we were happy. But it rained hard; the road is windy. As our bus approached one of the very few straight places on the road a car roared up from behind, horn blaring, and speeded past. We recognized the car, the Zosel sisters, recent grads. They celebrated too, waving madly at our bus as they streaked by. Then, just as they pulled ahead, illumined by the bus’s headlights, the car began to spin out of control on the slick asphalt. And everything went into ultra slow motion.

We watched horrified as the car hurtled off the road—inch by inch it seemed. Whoa….Now, it turns out that everybody was okay. Even the car wasn’t damaged. But for that split second it was a nightmare, as we watched the car wreck, front row seats but helpless to do anything about it. That’s the image forever imprinted on my mind.

Most of us may have felt something similar that morning ten years ago, September 11, 2001, especially when World Trade Center towers collapsed. But I have that feeling these days, too, in thinking about a lot of things in our world. We watch, helpless it seems, as so much spins out of control. I’m reminded of that car wreck all those many years ago when these scary, even horrific things happen, with more on the way. Continue reading →

Sketching a Contemporary Anabaptist Theology

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Ted Grimsrud—Presented at the London Mennonite Forum, September 2009[1]

Theology is important, and it’s human work. The best theology, I believe, motivates and guides peacemaking. In my essay, “Contemporary Theology in Light of Anabaptism,” I propose that theology in light of Anabaptism should be “practice-oriented” more than “doctrine-oriented.”  I suggest that such a focus will distinguish Anabaptist theology from mainstream ecumenical and evangelical theologies—especially when it is Jesus-centered, pacifist theology.  In this sequel, I will flesh out a bit the kind of theology I have in mind.

Theology and Our Hierarchy of Values

I believe that our “theology” is made up of the convictions that matter the most to us.  We each have a hierarchy of values.  At the very top of this hierarchy is our god, or gods.  The term “theology” literally means “the study of God (theos).”  To understand the actual theology we live by, we should ask first of all how we order our lives.  What in practice are the priorities in our lives that reflect what we truly accept as ultimate?  These priorities tell us a lot about what our actual god or gods are.

Think back to your earliest memories. What did you value? What would you have said about what was most important in your life?  How we answer these questions reveals a great deal about what we could call our “embedded” theology.[2]  This theology did not come to us through our own choices.  It was given to us; we inherited it.  Then, when we face the world as bigger, when we suffer, when we face questions that shake us up, when we are asked by someone else what we believe and why, we will be pushed to move from embedded to “deliberative” theology.  Then we think and apply and expand and understand and articulate.  Continue reading →

Contemporary Theology in Light of Anabaptism

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Ted Grimsrud—Presented at the London Mennonite Forum, September 2009

During the last half of the twentieth century and now into the twenty-first, many Mennonites and other Anabaptists have realized we need more intentionally to articulate our distinctive convictions. Perhaps for the first time in our now nearly five hundred years since the first Anabaptists, we have an abundance of intellectually rigorous, overt doctrinal theology being written by Anabaptists.

This production has been stimulated by a sense that things have changed in the modern world.  Many of the close-knit communities that made it possible for Anabaptist convictions to survive without self-consciously constructed doctrinal theology have weakened and even disappeared altogether.  We operate now in the arena where people choose to believe (or not).  So, it’s more important to bring beliefs to the surface.

Theology in Light of Anabaptist Distinctives

The question of how best to articulate theological convictions that reflect the core commitments of Anabaptists is hotly contested.  How should we approach theology in light of the distinctive characteristics of Anabaptist Christianity? I believe these characteristics center on an integration of theology with ethics. The ethical commitments of the 16th century Anabaptists such as pacifism, an emphasis on economic sharing, and rejection of the subordination of the church to nation-states reflected as distinctive theology—a theology that we may still learn from.

Recent writing on sixteenth century Anabaptism highlights extreme diversity in the first fifty years of the Anabaptist movement.  Such writing helps correct simplistic generalizations about Anabaptist uniformity.  However, it provides little clarity for those who seek to draw upon that movement as we negotiate our current challenges.  What might we mean by “Anabaptism” as an affirmative label for faith today with genuine content that also links with its 16th century origins?

Let me suggest a parallel for how we might work at identifying core Anabaptist convictions.  Scholars of the “historical Jesus” point out that the one certain fact about Jesus that is not dependent upon the reports of his followers is that the state executed Jesus as a political criminal. Whatever we might say about Jesus needs to be understood in light of that one fact. So, they assert, we start in analyzing Jesus’ life and teaching asking what led to his execution. Continue reading →