Kim Gentes

Reading and reviewing NT Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" is a monolithic task, as the book is both lengthy and highly academic. Its success is not in its volume of pages, however, but in its thorough treatment of Jesus and his work as historical fact leading to theological reality.

The portrait of Jesus of Galilee as the first century Jew who is both prophet/messiah is so profoundly unlike our 20th/21st Century thinking, that it is a shock treatment into the historical Jesus. It re-levels our Christian beliefs and theology from our arrogant "looking back on history" to a profound looking from the 1rst century forward, through the eyes of Judaism and its traditions and worldview. When we wake up from the shock, we find we are in a world that is thoroughly Jewish, thoroughly 1rst century, living as a conquered nation of Israel with its neck under the heel of the tyrannical Roman Empire.

Amongst a brood of  1st century revolutionary Zionists, Pharisees and "Jews-still-in-exile" within their own country, Jesus appears and draws on this climactic time, announcing in himself the arrival the kingdom-of-god message in which he comes to reconstitute the Temple, the Torah, and the Wisdom into his very person, reissuing their true essence into himself.  At the same time, he redefines the true people of God not as a swipe against Israel but as a reinstatement of the core of its vocation and character- to be the light of the world.

Once the core of who Jesus is, what he intended, and what he actually did is redefined, the entire synoptic readings need complete reinterpreting, and Wright provides that as well, exploring the parables, symbols, actions and praxis of Jesus as both a means and expression to his brilliant thesis.

Product Link on Amazon: Jesus and the Victory of God

Review by Kim Gentes

Saint Teresa of Avila is another of the Catholic mystics who has profoundly impacted Christian formation/spirituality in the last 500 years. Like Therese of Lisieux, St. John of the Cross and others in the mystic tradition, Teresa of Avila takes a route of growth that focuses profoundly on the topic of love and uses the lens of introspection to probe the depths of the soul to find and purge inconsistencies for the person to find ultimate union with God.

To begin down this path Teresa defines an expanded understanding of the soul as a philosophically different and complete component to a human being, much in the Platonic/Geek dualistic model of separated body/spirit. Her exploration of this soul description begins with its magnitude.

In speaking of the soul we must always think of it as spacious, ample and lofty; and this can be done without the least exaggeration, for the soul's capacity is much greater than we can realize, and this Sun, Which is in the palace, reaches every part of it.[1]

But within this Platonic construct, the imagery and understanding of the soul is quite articulate and helpful. Teresa jumps immediately into the examination of the inner self.  She finds in this inward journey, a more careful examination of the human condition, both as broken and beautiful agencies to the purpose of God. Again of this inward reflection, she says:

self-knowledge is so important that, even if you were raised right up to the heavens, I should like you never to relax your cultivation of it; so long as we are on this earth, nothing matters more to us than humility. And so I repeat that it is a very good thing -- excellent, indeed -- to begin by entering the room where humility is acquired rather than by flying off to the other rooms. For that is the way to make progress, and, if we have a safe, level road to walk along, why should we desire wings to fly? Let us rather try to get the greatest possible profit out of walking. As I see it, we shall never succeed in knowing ourselves unless we seek to know God: let us think of His greatness and then come back to our own baseness; by looking at His purity we shall see our foulness; by meditating upon His humility, we shall see how far we are from being humble.[2]

Teresa begins with the assumption that self-investigation is actually a way of expressing humility, since we are changed when we see the contrast between ourselves and God, our nature and God’s nature.  In fact, for Teresa of Avila, humility is acquired by self-knowledge. For most individuals in modern culture, this type of approach would seem more selfish and less apt for personal change. But this is the gift of the mystic writers - they actually become the true inquisitors of their own hearts, who deal in honestly and expect you will as well. 

What develops in this book particularly is a description of the soul as a series of unique mansions within mansions (something like a Russian doll configuration). The initial exterior mansions are representative of lesser levels of union with God, fraught with sin and seemingly regularly pulling people back to a starting of spiritual development largely due to a lack of freedom from sin and a continued unhealthy self-absorption. The interior mansions also correlate with levels of prayer progress that the adherent makes as they manage through these levels of mansions.

What anchors the mystics insistence on self-knowledge as a path to purity is their equally consistent trajectory of faith founded deeply in love. Love is the lynch-pin, the catalyst and end game for every point and sub-point of The Interior Castle, and the Avila saint says as much: 

As I have written about this at great length elsewhere,I will not repeat it here. I only want you to be warned that, if you would progress a long way on this road and ascend to the Mansions of your desire, the important thing is not to think much, but to love much; do, then, whatever most arouses you to love. Perhaps we do not know what love is: it would not surprise me a great deal to learn this, for love consists, not in the extent of our happiness, but in the firmness of our determination to try to please God in everything, and to endeavour, in all possible ways, not to offend Him, and to pray Him ever to advance the honour and glory of His Son and the growth of the Catholic Church. Those are the signs of love; do not imagine that the important thing is never to be thinking of anything else and that if your mind becomes slightly distracted all is lost.[3]

If there is any problem with the approach of the saint of Avila, it is not in the sincerity of her heart or the assumption that she puts forth that we should have likewise. Instead, it may be simply in the belief that such great wisdom can be birthed from a person living a life in the convents and taken for use among people who live daily in the strain and grime of broken humanity as it exists outside of the cloistered communities of the monastic traditions.

Product Link on Amazon: The Interior Castle

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Therese of Avila,  “The Interior Castle”, translated E. Allison Peers (Radford, VA: Wilder Publications, 2008),Kindle Edition, Location 495

[2]Ibid., Location 509

[3]Ibid., Location 988

Thérèse de Lisieux - Mystic, Suffering or Neurotic Saint?

Through her own autobiography Thérèse de Lisieux appears to us as a childish and effusing figure, bent on achieving the goal of grand spiritualism and union with God. Her story is uniquely fit within the tradition of Catholic mystics, and was venerated to even higher status by the declaration of the title of Doctor which was given to her about a century after her death.

Therese wrote in a way which was predominantly introspective, especially with her early life. In fact, the maturity of her character is evidently one of the lessons she is trying to carry forward in the narrative- that her own writing and personal growth correspond to the readers journey into understanding the mystical truths she was conveying. However, since the entire autobiography was not written as a single volume, it would be too much to say that she envisioned this entire book as a single entity in the same way we now read it.

The reason that the content is important to this discussion is that it is so emotive and effusive that one can hardly read it without wondering whether it is real revelation or simply childish ranting. After reviewing the book, however, I have come to believe that  Thérèse de Lisieux was both a physically and mentally pained person who overcame her suffering and eventually expressed her maturity in the writings of her autobiography.  I believe that much of her early life and writing was, in fact, the strained emotional expressions of a suffering young woman. That said, she arrives eventually (in both age and wisdom) at such profound depth and fruitfulness of character that one must conclude that she did not retain her immature core.

The first several pages of the autobiography explain how Therese was compelled to write about her life from a request by her “mother” (who was actually her sister, a spiritual leader at her convent). The text explores her early years and recites what is little more than childish thoughts and actions. Crying, fits, dressing,playing with dolls and other childish musings. Her focus on God is clear from a young age, but frivolous and fanciful, as one would expect. Arduous as the first chapter is, the writing thereafter takes on a much more serious tone. This is primarily due to the constant trials, death and struggles that begin to broach the text. The death of Therese’s mother, difficulties with living with relatives, her fathers absence, physical illness and pain, the induction of all of her living sisters into a life of service in convents and the eventual death of her father are highlights of the seriousness of not only Therese’s life but the condition of the times in which her family lived.  These difficulties galvanized the giddy school-girl into an intense (and perhaps morose) pre-teen/teen.

Physical Suffering

One difficulty that seems to almost be missed in the discussions of Therese is the gravity of her physical illnesses, which eventually take her life. While a completely different condition eventually kills her (tuberculosis), her earlier life has hints of possibility serious physical/emotional/neurological conditions which may have much to do with her formation, possibly her earliest visions and perhaps her ascent to the mystical life she was later venerated for. It is my belief that Therese’s early life was riddled with physical ailments that caused not only pain, but perhaps illusory understandings of God, even taking some of these experiences as the mystical revelations of the Holy Spirit.

The first evidence of this is directly found in Therese’s writing about herself:

Nobody could even say about me that “I was good when I was asleep,” because at night I was even more wiggly than during the day. I would send the covers flying, and then (asleep all the while) I would crash against the wood of my little bed. The pain would wake me up, and I would say, “Mama, I’ve been bumped.” My poor dear mother had to get up and establish that I did in fact have knots on my forehead, and that I had been bumped. She would cover me up securely and go back to bed. But after a short time I started being bumped again, so that they had to tie me in my bed. Every night, little Céline would come and tie the several cords that were intended to keep the little imp from getting bumped and waking up her mama. This method finally worked, so from then on I was good while I was asleep….[1]

This type of description is very consistent with a seizure, possibly an epileptic episode. The fact that she allowed herself to be tied down, tells us that she knew something was happening but she was unable or aware enough at the time to stop it. Having close relatives that suffer from epilepsy, this immediately came to mind when I read this account.

Other examples of pain that would at least effect mental faculties for Thérèse de Lisieux’s seem plentiful enough in the first section of the book--

Toward the end of the year I was taken with a headache that, though continual, almost didn’t make me suffer.[2]

and

As I was getting undressed I was taken with a strange trembling.[3]

as well as:

The next day he went to find Dr. Notta, who concluded, like my uncle, that I had a very serious illness that had never struck such a young child.[4]

and

And in fact He was, through the admirable resignation of my poor dear father, who thought “his little girl was going to go mad or that she was going to die.”[5]

and finally

It isn’t surprising that I was afraid that I looked sick without in fact being sick, because I would say and do things that I wasn’t thinking. I almost always seemed to be delirious, saying words that had no meaning, and nevertheless I’m sure that I wasn’t deprived for a single instant of the use of my reason…. Often I appeared to have fainted, not making the slightest movement. At that time I would have let be done to me anything anyone might have wanted, even kill me. Nonetheless I was hearing everything that was being said around me, and I still remember everything. It happened to me once that I stayed for a long time without being able to open my eyes, and yet I opened them for an instant while I was alone.[6]

Headaches, seizures, madness, fainting, unable to open/close eyes, being in your body but not in control of it- many of these symptoms are compatible with possible neurological/physical conditions that could certainly have induced the hysteria like symptoms that produce visions or other phenomena. I am not saying that none of her early experiences where genuine, but that this predominance of this kind of suffering can produce delusional episodes. Her familiarity with engaging in these could very well have been a “primer” of sorts to her later experiences and revelations.

But while Therese may have indeed suffered some illness the predisposed here neurological system to sensational experiences, her maturity as a thoughtful and dedicated follower of Christ becomes the long term proof of her character and her legacy.

Maturity through Suffering and Perseverance

Beginning with her desire to enter the convent, family confession, her first communion, her journey to enter the convent, and even her encounter with the Pope, Therese begins to expound on the internal condition of her heart as she moves through challenge after challenge.  She reveals a ruthless tenacity to unearth any wrong motive, conjecture or misunderstanding about the nature of God, the humility of the servant or the nature of the work intended for her. For example:

One day during prayers I understood that my keen desire to make my profession was tinged with great self-love.[7]

Therese finds a mode where she is often stripping back what seems like a good desire and revealing an errant inner motive, such as above.  Unlike what may be expected, she never stops her introspection with self loathing- it always leads to clear revelation of the reality of the situation and a certain action to be taken for its correction.  She begins to put more and more importance on serving others, and even explains instances of her learning humility by serving older, cranky nuns.  This kind of pure obedience to the process of maturity eventually turns Therese into a deeply pragmatic counselor, who eventually discounts the importance of dreams to a large degree:

I don’t attach any importance to my dreams, and besides, I rarely have any symbolic ones. And I even wonder how it is that, thinking all day long about God, I’m not more concerned with Him during my sleep…. Usually I dream about the woods, flowers, streams, and the sea, and almost always, I see pretty little children, and I catch butterflies and birds like ones I’ve never seen. You see, Mother, that if my dreams have a poetic appearance, they are far from being mystical….[8]

Therese evolves into a beautiful expositor of mystical and practical understanding, not coupling them together simply by Solomon-like wisdom, but by connecting them through the primary chord of her pursuit- the understanding of love as her primary vocation.  This is what proves to me that Therese was not a romantic/dramatic narcissist- the truth and fruit of her ideas lead her to two things: a life of action that served others in humility; and a foundational belief in love as the primacy of the entire mystical and practical agenda of God and his encounters with all people.

This is seen in brilliant color in one of her most poignant quotes:

Just as Solomon, surveying all that his hands had done and what he had toiled to achieve, saw that everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind [Eccl. 2:11], in the same way I recognized through EXPERIENCE that happiness consists only in staying hidden, in remaining in ignorance of created things. I understood that without love, all works are only nothingness, even the most dazzling, such as raising the dead or converting entire peoples [1 Cor. 13:1–3]…. Instead of doing me harm, leading me to meaninglessness, the gifts that God poured out on me (without my asking Him for them) led me to Him. I see that He alone is unchanging, that He alone can fulfill my immense desires….[9]

Jesus said that good trees bear good fruit, and that a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Therese’s life produced an example of character and action that is a beautiful testimony to her centered understanding of the love of God. The further impact of her life and writings as an example and inspiration to millions are additional testimony to her integrity. I believe that Therese’s impact can be validated by the good tree / good fruit indicators that Jesus warned us to consider. 

Jesus also told us that the central two commandments of the Christian life are hinged upon love (love God, and love your neighbor). As a follower of Jesus, it is no coincidence that Therese comes to this same conclusion about love.

Thérèse may indeed have been a romantic and dramatic neurotic in her earlier years, perhaps even a neurologically effected young girl. But her ultimate spirituality, though definitely introspective, proved to be anything but narcissistic. Her focused self-abasement and intractable desire to see Christ’s answer to every situation, drove her to understand and practice a life of sincerity and simplicity. Those qualities were left in her writing and her story and have definitely made a genuine spiritual advance for those who would avail themselves of her example.

Product Link on Amazon: The Complete Therese of Lisieux

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Therese of Lisieux,  “The Complete Therese of Lisieux”,translated Robert Edmonson (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2009),Kindle Edition, Location 615

[2]Ibid., Location 1160

[3]Ibid., Location 1165

[4]Ibid., Location 1169

[5]Ibid., Location 1173

[6]Ibid., Location 1194

[7]Ibid., Location 2646

[8]Ibid., Location 2810

[9]Ibid., Location 2887

Clergy sexual misconduct is a complex topic. Attempting to identify, prevent and even confront it is even more arduous. In their book, “Betrayal of Trust: Confronting and Preventing Clergy Sexual Misconduct”, Stanley Grenz and Roy Bell attempt to tackle the gambit of definition, identification, prevention and confrontation of this topic, and they succeed. Grenz and Bell take a decidedly clinical approach to the book, rather than primarily a theological or pastoral vantage point (they do deal with the issue as it relates to pastors and their church communities, but most insight, sources, support and direction comes from the clinical arena).  This gives the text credence to the professional therapeutic community, as well as the clergy world.  While the book clearly articulates ethical implications of clergy sexual misconduct, it also investigates the far reaching effects on all parties involved- the victims, the pastor-offender, the pastor family, the local church congregation and even the broader representation of the pastoral offender as they stand as a representative Christ to the world/broader community.

For me, the most profound contribution of the book was to show (through numerous examples) that the definition of sexual misconduct is centered in the power granted (and used) by the offender via their position, status or trust in the local church community.  It is, then, from this position of power that misconduct is carried out, both because of its ability for the man in power to compel an opportunity for the woman to receive his advances and for the further use of that power to enforce an atmosphere of silence. Quoting psychologist Peter Rutter, the entire book is hinged on this specifically defined understand of sexual misconduct:

“any behavior by a man in power within what I define as the forbidden zone is inherently exploitive[sp] of a woman’s trust.”[1]

and

“sexual conduct between men in power and women under their care.”[2]

This definition of sexual misconduct as being rooted in a man’s position of power is crucial to identifying, preventing and challenging the behavior, as the author’s demonstrate by numerous examples. The first chapter of the book begins with explaining the extent to which misconduct has spread through all denominations and spheres of the Christian church. After that, the chapter identifies the scope of the problem across a range of spheres which such misconduct will impact- the pastor, the family, the church, the victim, and the gospel itself.

The second chapter explores the categorizations and situations in which a pastor can be “at risk” for sexual misconduct.  Chapters three and four explore the definitions and implications to which sexual misconduct is a betrayal of the trust and a misuse of power on the part of the offender.  In this section, the authors essentially place all responsibility for sexual misconduct between a minister and a congregant firmly on the shoulders of the minister. They quote Marie Fortune (which concurs with several other cited sources) by saying succinctly:

“it is the man’s responsibility, no matter what the level of provocation or apparent consent by the woman, to assure that sexual behavior does not take place.”[3]

Through a series of layered, logical arguments about power, authority and trust, the authors establish that the above is not only true, but is almost exclusively a male problem.[4] While not stating that it is inherently a male causation at work in the issue, the problem is due to the inequities of positions of power (both clergy and otherwise) being so dominated by men. Since power is at the base of the problem, people in power are the source of the misconduct.

The book goes on to make several helpful observations about how to minister to various groups of victims, recommendations and methodologies for prevention of misconduct, and even church response and possible guidelines for (church) governmental policies that may be helpful. All these items seem helpful.

One other very helpful point made by the book comes in the form of a listing of three proto-typical offenders of sexual misconduct: the predator, the wanderer, and the lover. While the stereotypes aren’t perfect, they articulate well the kind of people who may offend and what options we can consider in dealing with them.  Most poignantly, the wanderer seems to be potentially the most effective area to focus our efforts at prevention and restoration.  This is a helpful way to think about the issue, since it seems a fairly even-handed and thoughtful evaluation of what kinds of people may offend the privilege of the clergy position, for what reasons they might do so and how they might be equipped to avoid such offence.

That said, there were parts of the book that didn't seem complete or evenhanded. While understanding that clergy power certainly holds sway over congregants, there were three areas that intend power over a local church that are poised for the possibility of misconduct, but are not dealt with in this book. Other positions of possible misconduct are: spouse of minister, church boards and their members, and influential patrons of the local church.  Each of these positions hold possible power in local churches, none of which was dealt with in the book. I see that as a weakness of an otherwise excellent book.

That said, the majority of the book is insightful, compelling and helpful for churches and ministers. The oversights I have mentioned would have improved the book, but ultimately didn't deter from the book's effectiveness in the areas it attended to. For people with roles as pastoral leaders in church team, the most helpful thing to be learned from this book was the relationship of position/power to the potentiality of misconduct- that the minister is inherently endued with control in relationship to a congregant vis-à-vis the locus of power attendant to their position. Along with this control comes the corresponding responsibility for any and all actions of sexual misconduct between pastor to congregant.

Book Product link: Betrayal of Trust: Confronting and Preventing Clergy Sexual Misconduct

Review by

Kim Gentes

[1] Stanley J. Grenz & Roy D. Bell, “Betrayal of Trust: confronting and preventing clergy sexual misconduct”, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books 2001), Pg 17

[2] Ibid., Pg 17

[3] Ibid., Pg 94

[4] Ibid., Pg 17,19

What would happen if a successful, self-assured young pastor of a metro-mega church faced up to the crushing reality of pain and doubt that plagues so many of his congregants? Even more, what would happen if he began to experience his own self-awareness, and started to verbalize it to his congregation? Would he lead his church through a time of learning and growing through the process? Or, would they reject him and move on to someone who would resound with surety and triumphalism, assuaging the congregants that "all is well" in the spiritual headquarters of their local church?

Ian Morgan Cron is the brilliant writer/pastor who tackles the above questions with credulity, weight and panache. In his book "Chasing Francis", Cron creates reality in fiction that smacks you with a clear "names and locations of the characters of this story have been changed to protect those involved".  And though the book is officially fiction, it's themes, circumstances and characters remind us of our own lives, churches and ministries: broken, hurting and isolated.

The protagonist in the story, Chase Falson, is an amalgamation of the questions we pose in the hardest times, the honest conversation that must happen if we are to walk through our dark night of the soul. Chase is riddled with doubts in his personal life, and they reach an apex when a 9 year old girl in his congregation is tragically left in a state of permanent life support.  All that is left is for the single mother parent of the girl and her pastor, Chase, to bear the weight of taking her off the machines which leads to her death. There is no higher purpose, no sense in it, no great cosmic reason which it seems God has for this senseless loss of life and brokenness for those left behind.

That event leads Chase to begin public questioning of his previously iron clad dogmatic faith. When his church implodes on his public questioning, he takes a sabbatical trip to Italy. Through the counsel of an uncle, he tries to find understanding by taking a personal pilgrimage through the towns and life of Saint Francis of Assisi.   Chase is transformed day by day as he encounters the way of St. Francis and begins to enjoin himself to the task of God's own reconstruction project in his life.

The novel is hand picked for an exemplary journey into the best questions being asked by the post modern culture that is colliding with the Christian faith. It also doesn't acquiesce into an endless stream of circular questions leading to further (and unending) questions- it comes to a direction that is a way back for many to the faith that is fresher, more authentic, more enduring when seen through the eyes of Francis.

Artistically, the writing is very engaging.  Starting throughly in the world of Christian leadership and church, it takes us from the familiar to the earthy  world of the mystic/monk from Assisi. Cron's gift of writing is witty yet speculative, a perfect confluence that doesn't abandon all hope, but doesn't settle for cheap cliche either.

If you want to read a thoughtful, challenging but enjoyable book that will both teach you something and engage you in a poignant story, I strongly encourage you to consider "Chasing Francis". You won't be disappointed.

Book on Amazon: Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim's Tale

Review by

Kim Gentes