Some heresies never seem to die, but have a disconcerting tendency to pop up in every generation, rather like the emerging heads of the whack-a-mole in the children’s game one sees in Chuck E. Cheese: whack them down as hard and often as you like, but they will pop up again someplace else.

The story of Cain and Abel is the story of the human race. It is tragically timeless, for it is tirelessly enacted over and over again in every generation. As Larry Norman once queried (as aged historians may remember from his song “Nothing Really Changes”), “Will Cain kill Abel—with a bayonet?” Regardless of the choice of weapon, somewhere and some place that murder is happening even now as you are reading this.

I know a man in Christ who prays for Marilyn Monroe every day as a part of his prayers for all the departed. He doesn’t pray for her under her stage-name of “Marilyn” though. He prays for her under her real name of “Norma Jeane”, the name given her by her mother and under which she was once baptized by (of all people) the evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson while under the foster care of a very fundamentalist family.

Many years ago, when I was tucking my eldest daughter into bed, she asked me a question: “Dad, why do we believe in the Resurrection?” I have always taught both my daughters to be strong and to think for themselves, and so I was happy to hear the question, and I answered it as best as I could, giving the historical evidence. At the end of it all, she said, “Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to say that we should believe in it because it was in the Bible.” No chance of that; Dad is not a fideist, nor a fan of circular reasoning. The case for Christianity is a strong one, and can withstand historical scrutiny. Here I would like to set out the case for Christianity in somewhat fuller terms than I did that night so long ago.

In my previous piece, “Why I Am a Christian (Part 1)” I examined the question of why one should believe in the physical Resurrection of Jesus from the dead. I looked at the essential historical reliability of the Gospels portraits of Jesus and His claims to be God. I concluded that given the number and audacity of those claims, there were only three live options on the table: either He was a liar, a lunatic, or the Lord. I suggested that His many miracles made sense of and supported the third option.

I have been reading liberal theology since my college days—i.e. theologies which deny many, most, or all of the major tenets of the traditional Christian Faith. The theologies are as many and as varied as their authors, but they all share a conviction that Jesus of Nazareth didn’t say and do all the things which the New Testament recorded that He said and did, that the Gospels are not to be trusted as history, and that therefore the basic dogmas of the historical Church are wrong. The late Bishop John Spong (inset) is a modern and sterling example.

G. K. Chesterton wrote that he once left fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery and hadn’t found any books so sensible since (from his Orthodoxy, “The Ethics of Elfland”). I suggest that Christianity is one such fairy tale, and also that it is a myth. But it is a fairy tale come true, and a myth that became a fact.

Today we begin a series on the use of the Old Testament in the early chapters of the Gospel of St. Matthew. We will examine his citations in his narrative of Christ’s birth, childhood and adulthood up to the time He settled in Capernaum, bringing a great light to the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali and to all the world. St. Matthew (either the actual author of the Gospel or the one under whose blessing and authority it was first disseminated) took care to present Jesus as the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament, and by examining the use of the Old Testament in this Gospel we can see how deeply and creatively the Church used those Scriptures.

We continue our series examining St. Matthew’s citations of the Old Testament. Today we look at his citation of Micah 5:2. “In the Masoretic Hebrew it reads, “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah, from you will come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.” The LXX reads similarly: “And you, Bethlehem, house of Ephrathah, you are very small to be in the thousands of Judah, from which for me will come out to be for a ruler of Israel, and his goings out are from the beginning, from the days of eternity.” It is all the more surprising therefore that St. Matthew’s version reads a little differently from either the Hebrew or the Greek. It reads, “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you will come a ruler who will govern my people Israel.”

We continue our series examining St. Matthew’s citations of the Old Testament. Today we look at his citation of Jeremiah 31:15. It reads, “A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are not.” The LXX renders it more or less the same way, though the order of the chapters is different. In the LXX the text is found in Jeremiah chapter 38, not chapter 31. But the meaning of the text is the same.

We conclude our series examining St. Matthew’s citations of the Old Testament. Today we look at his citation of Isaiah 40:3, which reads, “A voice cries, ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of Yahweh! Make straight in the desert a highway for our God!”

There is today in the Orthodox Church a cult of personality—or, more precisely, of personalities, in the plural. That is, there are a number of men, mostly monastics and wearing the badge of “elder” who have set themselves up as judges and arbiters of Orthodox praxis. Most of the hubbub is over matters of ecumenism. Drawing upon the Fathers (often ripped from their historical context) these men declare that outside the Orthodox Church there is little or no grace and salvation. Accordingly, everyone who comes to Orthodoxy from another Christian confession must—not should, but must—be received by baptism, so that those who were received by chrismation must “correct” this “error” and be again baptized.

One would not have guessed that the question of whether to receive a person into the Orthodox Church by baptism and chrismation or by chrismation alone would be a hot issue given the history of reception into the Church. Both methods have been widely used in the ancient and recent past and continue to be used in the present.

Over two millenia there have, of course, been many papal claims, many of which Orthodoxy has always accepted. The claim to be the Patriarch of the West has proved unobjectionable to the East. The claim to be the primate of the Church is also unobjectionable, though this one requires some historical context. It is the claims explicated in detail at the First Vatican Council of 1870 that have proved the sticking point. But let us proceed slowly and carefully.

I cannot be the only one who has had the experience of visiting a non-Orthodox church service and finding it stunningly empty and plain. After long familiarity with Orthodox worship with its icons, incense, candles, vestments, Gospel books, and crosses, attending such services produces a kind of sensory deprivation, rather like sensory overload in reverse. Entering those churches and experiencing their services left me looking around almost madly for something focus and feed upon—some cross or image. But there was nothing: the walls were barren and empty, with not even a plaque with an inscribed Bible verse to relieve the sensory monotony. It is like bringing to your lips what you expected to be a cup of wine and finding it to contain tepid water: it’s okay, I suppose, but disappointing to the point of surprise and irritation.

Recently I heard a very dark and serious song about the judgment of God and His wrath against sinners. It was the folk song “Great God Almighty’s Gonna Cut You Down” (accessed here). I was not aware of the song before; apparently it is an American folk song. The oracular Wikipedia informs me that it was first recorded by the Golden Gate Quartet in 1946 and issued in 1947 by the Jubalairies, and since then has been covered by a variety of singers in country, folk, electronic, and black metal genres, including such singers as Johnny Cash, Tom Jones, and Elvis Presley. It takes some imagination to contemplate someone singing both about blue suede shoes and the wrath of God, but that’s America for you.

I sometimes tell inquirers at St. Herman’s when they ask that I began my Christian life in earnest as a Jesus People—which usually results in blank stares, since most of them are too young to have heard of the cultural phenomenon known as the Jesus People Movement. The movement has recently come up again for notice in a film called “Jesus Revolution”, based on the true events of the founding of Calvary Chapel in California under Pastor Chuck Smith (d. 2013) and his long-haired hippie protégé Lonnie Frisbee. The film, a well done and positive presentation of the events, stars Kelsey Grammer and features the role of Greg Laurie (played by Joel Courtney) as a new convert to Christ at Smith’s Calvary Chapel, and as someone who would go on to found Harvest Christian Fellowship Church, with campuses in California and Hawaii. Harvest Ministries is the group which released the film.

A wise man once said "what we believe always remains intellectually possible, and never becomes intellectually compulsive. I have an idea," he said, "that when this ceases to be so, the world will be ending."

There are stupider things to do than arguing with a culty fundamentalist. As the late great Jim Croce reminded us, you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, and you don’t pull the mask off the ol’ Lone Ranger. Arguing with a culty fundamentalist is, I admit, not as stupid as any of these things, but it is pretty stupid nonetheless, for it is a waste of precious time and utterly futile.

Today we begin a series on Old Testament saints in their context: surveying major figures of the Old Testament to better understand their lives, their words, and the lessons they can teach us - for, though dead, they still speak. We begin with Abraham: the father of the faithful, and the friend of God.

A quiet confession between us: Nostalgic freak that I am, I still like listening to old songs from the Christian folk group Children of the Day. The group is one of the earliest Jesus People music groups and consisted of four young people, headed by Marsha Carter. They were famous for the song "For those tears I died" - also known as "Come to the waters:, written by Marsha shortly after her conversion to Christ at the age of 16. The song contains the sort of emotionalism that often characterizes young 16-year-old evangelical girls, with tears being cried in the dark, as well as that bit of latent calvinism which often characterizes evangelicals. The song begins with the lines "You said you'd come and share all my sorrows, you said you'd be there for all my tomorrows. I came so close to sending you away, but just like you promised - you came here to stay. I just had to pray."

I am told on good authority that it is offensive to invite people of other religions to convert to Christianity. Thus it is offensive to say to a Jew, “Jesus is the Messiah and the Son of God and so you should be baptized and become a Christian”. It is similarly offensive to say to a Muslim, “Jesus is the divine Son of God and Muhammad was not a true prophet, nor is Qur’an His Word, and so you should be baptized and become a Christian”. It is also offensive to say to a Hindu, “Those whom you worship as Gods such as Vishnu, Shiva, and Krishna are not true Gods, but idols, and so you should be baptized and become a Christian”.

I forget, in the course of my long life as a Christian, how many times I have heard people assure me that “God will never give you more than you can handle”. By this they seemed to mean that God knows my emotional limits and capabilities, and will make sure that no disaster befalls me that will tax me emotionally beyond my present strength. Sometimes they affix a Bible verse from 1 Corinthians 10:13 to it to make their case: “No temptation has overtaken you but such is common to man, and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it”. I must report however, on the basis of my long life as a Christian, that the assuring notion that God will never give anyone more than they can handle is nonsense.

The feast whose season we now in is called “Theophany” or (in many places) “Epiphany”. This latter is not so much an English word as it is a transliteration of a Greek word, epiphaneia. It is often rendered “appearance” in the English versions, though this rendering can be misleading. One can have a small or insignificant appearance. For example, a person can have a brief cameo appearance in a movie (such as Alfred Hitchcock famously did in his movies), appearances so brief and insignificant as to be missed by inattentive eyes.

I note with no surprise whatsoever the news out of England, which is that the Church of England has decided to bless homosexual partnerships. This came after a compromise was struck last February following five years of debate about the church’s position on homosexuality and the inevitable apology offered for the church’s failure to welcome homosexuals.

I have just read two fascinating pieces about Pope Francis’ recent and controversial document Fiducia Supplicans, which officially allows Roman Catholic priests to bless persons in same-sex relationships, one by an Orthodox and the other by a Roman Catholic.

Commenting on the epistle reading of Paul to the Colossians, the Very Rev. Dr Bogdan Bucur concentrates on the idea that the passions we struggle with also lead us into idolatry. For “when Christ who is our life appears,” we either die to the passions, or we choose them over Him.This is a battle which happens in our hearts every day, as Christ has already appeared to us through our baptism, and continues to appear to us through our every encounter with Him spiritually and physically in the sacraments and the body of the Church.

I am told that during a very interesting and well-run radio show about deaconesses, it was agreed (or at least widely thought) that Phoebe, mentioned famously in Romans 16:1, was a deaconess. But was she?

Every so often one encounters something that breaks the head as well as the heart. By that I refer to things that not only wring the heart with grief, but also confound the head because they are so perversely stupid. One such thing is the recent conversion of a Tasmanian Orthodox priest by the name of David Gould who had been Orthodox for 45 years and who then converted to Islam two years after becoming a priest. He now goes by the name of Abdul Rahman.

I have just finished reading Crisis of Confidence: Reclaiming the Historic Faith in a Culture Consumed with Individualism and Identity, by my friend Carl R. Trueman. Dr. Trueman is professor of Biblical and Religious Studies at Grove City College, and a member of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church (which, despite the title, has no connection with our own Eastern Orthodox Church).

I remember once when a friend was sharing with me his distress at the liberalism afflicting his Protestant denomination, and the fact that many of their clergy were denying such things as the virgin birth and the divinity of Christ. While murmuring sympathetically, I mentioned that such denials were not the same problem in the Orthodox Church. He then asked me what sort of things we did argue about. When I replied, “Well, things like whether or not a woman can receive Holy Communion while she is menstruating,” he looked at me funny. He didn’t ask, “What planet are you guys on?” but I could tell he was thinking it. Loudly.

The work of the prophet Haggai is short and easy to miss; it is a mere two chapters in our Bibles sandwiched in between the books of Zephaniah and Zechariah. If you are flipping quickly through the final pages of the Old Testament he easy to miss. After ploughing through longer works such as those of Isaiah (66 chapters), Jeremiah (52 chapters, plus 5 more chapters of Lamentations), and Ezekiel (48 chapters), Haggai looks positively puny in comparison

In reflecting on the Sunday of the Last Judgment, the Very Rev. Dr Bogdan Bucur calls our attention to the difference between the Lord’s invitation to those at his right hand in Matthew 25.34: “Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world,” and the injunction to those on His left, “‘Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt 25.41). In this account of the last judgment, the difference between those on the right and the left is their deeds during their earthly lives. Fr Bogdan urges us to consider the concrete actions the Lord is expecting us to take during our time on this Earth to physically and practically minister to all those in need around us.

Presented for your consideration (as Rod Serling used to say): an old man dressed up as an Orthodox priest-monk who is actually neither priest nor monk, performing outrageous antics both in public and online in a furious attempt to draw attention to himself. Mr. Milton Kapner calls himself Brother Nathanael, and he is a Jewish man who has attracted a large following of online listeners to his regular virulent anti-Semitic rants. Though he was once a novice in an Old Calendarist monastery in Colorado, he was kicked out of that monastery and is now not a monk at all, despite wearing monastic garb, but “a showman with a persecution complex who likes to be the center of attention” (from “Orthodox Christianity Then and Now”).

Now that Great Lent is upon us, the question sometimes arises about where we should put our spiritual focus. There are two places we should certainly not put our focus—and only one place where we should.

When we are reading the literature of the ancient Hebrews (i.e. the Old Testament) it is important to be aware of the kind of glasses we are wearing—that is, we should be aware of the unspoken conceptual presuppositions that we bring to our reading. If we are not aware of our ingrained conceptual presuppositions, we can make mistakes in understanding ancient literature.

Imagine my surprise to find that the view that Jesus was not divine was not confined to J.W.’s and Christadelphians. When perusing Facebook (just one of my bad habits) I found a debate televised on Faith Unaltered between Dr. Dale Tuggy (who denied the divinity of Jesus) and Dane Van Eyes (who affirmed it). Apparently cults like the J.W.’s were not the only ones now denying the divinity of Christ. Who knew?

As reported in the Byzantine Texas blogsite, the Ecumenical Patriarch is calling for a unified observance of Easter by next year, 2025, to coincide with the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicea. In a sermon he said, “We beseech the Lord of Glory that the forthcoming Easter celebration next year will not merely be a fortuitous occurrence, but rather the beginning of a unified date for its observance by both Eastern and Western Christianity.” Patriarch Bartholomew went on to declare that it was “a scandal to celebrate separately the unique event of the one Resurrection of the One Lord”.

It is a wonderful thing to know the Scriptures well, but there is a drawback: since we know how all the stories end, we can miss the drama inherent in the narrative. For example, In Luke 7:11f we can read about the grief of the widow of Nain, but since we know that her son’s death will end in his resurrection before he can be buried, we can skip too quickly from her sorrow to the happy ending and miss how terrible that grief must have been for her.

Thousands of years ago when I was an Evangelical Protestant in the Anglican Church, I never prayed to the saints or asked for their intercession. It was made quite clear to me by those around me that obedient Christians never did that and that prayer to the saints (especially to Mary) was idolatry of the worst sort and consequently provoked the ire of the Most High. Catholics, of course, prayed to Mary and the saints, but real Christians didn’t. Even when I got out more and grew a bit and realized Catholics were real Christians, I still was convinced that they shouldn’t pray to saints, and that prayer to the saints ran the risk of traffic with demons. So much for ecumenism!

I recently spoke with a dear friend who dolefully reported that a distant family member had left his very traditional Protestant church (with its stress on doctrine and Reformed worship) for a group called “The Bridge”. The name of the group reminded me of similar names of such new churches, such as “Connect”, and “Relate”—i.e. the names were intended to highlight their emphasis on relationships. So much for “St. James Anglican Cathedral”, or “Ferndale Baptist Church”, or even “Living Waters Pentecostal Assembly”.

Many people will (hopefully) identify the above quote as coming from the speech of Polonius in Act 1, Scene 3 of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. It was part of the fatherly talk he gave to his son Laertes before the boy moved away to university. It is now often quoted as a bit of perennial wisdom for life (it was written by Shakespeare, after all). It is not as often known that it was part of a speech that Shakespeare meant to be recognized as almost meaninglessly platitudinous, a kind of Elizabethan “blah-blah-blah, yada-yada-yada”.

The feast of the Ascension is a feast of comfort and consolation for the people of God. But it can for some people represent a stumbling block. Looking at the ascension of Christ as it is narrated in Scriptures, does the Church then really believe that accepting the Ascension also involves accepting a literal three-storey universe?

The method by which the Orthodox Church receives converts is a very controversial topic, and one which has provoked much online discussion. Should a convert be received by baptism, by chrismation alone, or perhaps simply after a recantation of previously-held errors? All three methods have been used in the past. And which groups should be received in which ways? Should the Oriental Orthodox (such as Copts and Armenians) be received in the same way as Pentecostals? What about Roman Catholics? The issue is far from clear, and has usually generated much more heat than light.

I have recently come across the teaching that Orthodox Christians should not pray for non-Orthodox. I cannot cite the details of who-where-when, so perhaps I am misunderstanding what is being said. But the concern to differentiate Orthodox from non-Orthodox in our intercessory prayers is real enough: I have been in one Orthodox Church where the list in the narthex on which one could write names to be prayed for in the Litany of Fervent Supplication has separate columns for Orthodox and non-Orthodox. I know of another church where some parishioners write down the names and then add “(non-Orthodox)” after them. What are we to make of this? Are there such requirements made on liturgical prayer?

Protestant critics of Orthodoxy fault us for many things, but one of the foremost of their objections is our devotion to Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Hostility to Roman Catholicism is built into Protestant DNA, so anything in Orthodoxy that resembles something in Roman Catholicism will be subject to criticism, including such more or less innocuous things like clergy wearing cassocks and calling themselves “Father”. Our Orthodox devotion to Mary (whom we call “the Theotokos”) often heads the list of Protestant objections, since it features so prominently in Roman Catholicism.

All of the words of the Saviour are important, even the words spoken that were strictly rhetorical. One such utterance is found in the story of the sinful woman, told in Luke 7:36f.

In his book Reflections on the Psalms, C. S. Lewis wrote a chapter on praising which began with him saying that “It is possible (and it is to be hoped) that this chapter will be unnecessary for most people”. In the same spirit, I hope that this and subsequent episodes on the topic of predestination will be unnecessary for most people.

In my last episode, I examined Paul’s words in Romans 9 and their bearing upon the classic Reformed teaching about predestination—i.e. the notion that before the creation of the world God had already chosen some to be saved and some to be damned, and that these choices were based solely upon His sovereign will, and that furthermore, our human choices to accept or reject Christ were simply the outworking of God’s primordial decisions. Those whom He chose to be saved He would draw to Himself so that they would accept Christ, and those whom He had chosen for damnation He would harden so that they would reject Christ. Those teaching this often refer to Paul’s words in Ephesians 1 in support of their views, so we will examine that passage here.

In this final episode on this topic, I would like to conclude my extended look at a Reformed view of predestination. There are certain aspects of it that fly in the face of much Biblical teaching.