Oh John!

John Calvin was a missionary idealist. In the two-plus decades he spent in Geneva, he sought to “Christianize” the populace, bringing to them the true faith that had been obscured by medieval Roman Catholicism. Geneva was to be laboratory for this project of cultivating true Christians, and its success would (or so Calvin hoped) expand and extend into the rest of Europe and ultimately the world. 

With this in view, Calvin and the Genevan consistory (think ’session’) left no aspect of their parishioners’ lives free from their purview. Moral regulations and standards of public conduct (manner of dress, speech) were strictly enforced. Church attendance was tracked. Children had no choice but to be catechized. Even saying the names of ’saints’ aloud was criminal. There’s a humorous account of a Genevan parent wanting to name his child Claude, but the consistory rejected that name in that a St. Claude was formerly a revered patron saint of the region. (The ministers pushed the family to name the child “Abraham”). Marriage proposals had to be approved; divorces were not easy to come by. (Only 26 divorces were registered in Geneva in Calvin’s 22 years there). The function of the consistory as Calvin set it up was to eliminate unchristian behavior and doctrine from Geneva.  

One wonders…did it work? Yes, according to some. John Knox in 1556 called Geneva “the most perfect school of Christ that was ever in the earth since the days of the Apostles.” But Calvin could not bring himself to agree. He suggested that only 5% of Genevans were serious about God’s word, and the rest seemed never to have even heard of it. And on his deathbed, he was still calling Geneva “a perverse and unhappy nation”. 

Lest anyone think I’m posting this to confirm the stereotype of Calvin as a rigid, stern, judgmental old curmudgeon, return to the first sentence of this post. His discontent had nothing to do with his personality or some latent misanthropy. It had everything to do with his audacious missionary aims. If Geneva was to be a laboratory for how to bring about and organize a society of true Christians, its success was paramount! Geneva had to “work” in order to be worthy of emulation. Calvin was forever an idealist, and his disappointment in Geneva’s failure to live up to his ideals was a constant source of consternation during his tenure there. 

Breath of God (RM)

This sermon was preached for part of a three-hour Good Friday worship service. The service as a whole was probably the best worship experience of my life. Here was my short contribution, from Luke 23: 46.

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” With these last words, Jesus entrusts his spirit, his soul, his life, and subsequently his death, to God, his Father. This passage is very special to us as Christians. God incarnate died in our stead. This is that very moment in the flow of time. That death for all deaths. That self-sacrifice of God. That death of one for the liberation of all.

The last breath of Jesus…gone.

Something spectacular and at the same time terrible is happening here with this passage. And it has to do with the word “breath.” The breath of Jesus is gone. In the original understanding, breath meant something like soul, or the person’s life force. But the word for breath meant so much more in the original language. The word used so often in the New Testament is pronounced “nooma.” It’s where we get the word pneumonia from. Breath, air, the thing that sustains life. But this word, nooma didn’t just mean breath, but wind, soul and … spirit. When Jesus yells “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit,” that word spirit is nooma. The same word used when the passage describes that Jesus took his last breath. Is Jesus entrusting God with his breath, signifying his dying, or is it something more? What is it about his spirit, his soul, that Jesus would find so important as to make that his last and final statement?

To understand the depth of what is happening here, we must look at what the word nooma is used for throughout the bible. As it turns out, it surfaces quite often. In the Greek translation of Genesis 1, Spirit, nooma, was with God at the creation of the earth. When God spoke, breathed upon the earth, creation simply WAS. In Genesis 2, God formed us from the dust of the ground and breathed into our nostrils the breath of life. Nooma – God’s breath. Even though we were formed, we did not truly exist until the breath of God entered us. This nooma is the essence of human beings. When the Lord saved Moses and the Israelites in the great Exodus, God provided a strong easterly wind, a nooma, to dry up the sea. God’s breath parted the waters. This nooma is the power of God.

Throughout the Old Testament we see the miraculous opening of the heavens so that God’s nooma, God’s spirit, God’s breath can impact human lives. Every once in awhile, God’s nooma is revealed for us to see and it signifies God reaching down, bringing the Godly essence upon us, sitting with us for a period of time and becoming part of us. But this in-breaking of heaven is revealed to us sporadically at best, and even then only for a short while, maybe only a matter of seconds.

And then, two thousand years ago there was a man named Jesus of Nazareth. Claimed by John to be the Word of God who was with God in creation, through whom all things were made, and who is, in essence, fully God. But Jesus was also fully human. Flesh and blood, born of a woman, sleeping, talking, eating, drinking, fully human. During his baptism, John the Baptist saw the spirit, the nooma of God descending upon Jesus…and remain. God’s spirit did not pass through, brush over, or swirl around Jesus – it stayed upon him. Jesus is the earthly incarnation of the breath of God. God’s very essence walking among us. Through this full endowment of the spirit, the nooma of God, the man Jesus heals the lame, cures the blind, resurrects the dead, and also washes feet. All the power, all the truth, all the comfort of God’s nooma not quickly manifesting itself on earth, but instead living upon it. The breath of God…here…in the flesh.

But some were threatened by God’s righteous power. Because sometimes the truth hurts. So again, [[vv. 44-46]].

“Father, here is your breath, here is your nooma. I give you back your Spirit. This world could not handle it.” When Jesus released his spirit, his nooma, it was not just Jesus entrusting his soul to God. It was an exhalation of the power it took to create a universe. It was the release of the breath that formed the human soul. That breath was the very same wind that parted the waters in front of Moses. That same spirit that walked the earth curing ailments, calming storms, offering forgiveness despite ourselves! Gone! His cry was our rejection of God on earth. And it was the giving back of God’s ultimate example of love, grace, and justice which we just couldn’t handle.

In his last moment on earth, Jesus gave back the breath of God.

New Directions

Hi friends.

This blog is going in a new direction, moving Barth aside (still here though!) for a prime focus on ministry. The blog is transforming into a resource for ministers, laypeople, and curious bloggers alike The authors of this post are recent graduates of Princeton Theological Seminary, and this blog will be a type of public communication for all. It will include ideas, discussions, challenges, calls to action, and thoughts from the authors, but anyone is welcome to comment and further discuss with us. The plan is also to place Bible study curricula, sermons, and other documents online to share. Christian ideas and ministry tools should never be hidden, protected, or copyrighted, as far as I am concerned (RM). Enjoy the new direction, pass the word along, and go read the old (and new) Barth posts!