Warn, Wake, and Walk

I ran into a tiny snag in this morning’s sermon, a snag that nobody noticed, and that’s fine. It illustrates, though, a problem in preaching from Scripture and in Bible translation, so I mention it here not to fuss about the very dear reader, but to flag up ways that trying hard to weave together homily and Scripture and liturgy and hymnody can still come a cropper.

The Epistle reading for today is Romans 13.11–14:

Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light; let us live honourably as in the day, not in revelling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

and I had picked out the closing phrases ‘make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires’ as the text for the sermon.* Now, what I (like Officer Obie with his ‘twenty-seven 8-by-10 color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was, to be used as evidence against us’) had not counted upon, which was that the reader for the epistle had chosen to read the lesson from the New International Version, a translation that notoriously translates the Pauline metaphor ‘flesh’ for what the translators thought ‘flesh’ really meant in that context — namely, our ‘sinful nature’.

Now the NIV translators have gotten plenty of stick for that decision, and if I’m not mistaken there’s a new version of the NIV that reverts to ‘flesh’. I disagree vehemently with the translators’ original decision, partly because it forecloses possible ambiguities that a reader is entitled to perceive. If ‘flesh’ ever stands in for ‘sinful nature’, it doesn’t always do so, and the translator shouldn’t be the one who presumes to resolve the ambiguity on behalf of the reader if it’s at all possible to preserve the ambiguity. Further, ‘flesh’ is at least partly a metaphor here, in a way that I rely on in the sermon, and substituting a flat declaration for a metaphor is always a loss for the reader. At length, I’m not convinced that Paul ever means ‘our sinful nature’, although there’s a particular theological angle that takes that reading to be a cornerstone of their theology (so it must be translated that way in order to bolster the apparent case for the theological perspective).**

As I say in the sermon, I take Paul’s theological metaphor to convey the point that ‘flesh’ is part of the complex of images that illuminate ‘badness’ in his theological imaginary: death, perishing, flesh, mortality, sin, weakness, and others. Paul reckons that flesh can’t of itself attain godliness, and we can see this play out as flesh ages and withers and ultimately dies. This same flesh also experiences desires that run contrary to what Paul and other Christians take to be a godly way of living: speaking for myself as a cisgendered heterosexual male, I do not always experience inappropriate desire when I encounter every woman (as I presumably would if ‘desire’ were a function of my sinful nature) but only intermittently, as a function of my imperfection. (Sorry if anyone thought I was already perfect, but like St Paul himself, I am not.) On my account, then, ‘sinful nature’ misrepresents both Paul’s thinking and his rhetoric, both of which are preserved by very straightforwardly rendering the Greek word sarx (the Greek behind all this bother) with ‘flesh’.

Anyway, the reader read ‘sinful nature’, I said ‘flesh’, and I don’t think anyone whatsoever in the congregation (other than I) noticed. That’s all just by way of introducing the point that the sermon is enclosed here below the fold.


* I customarily read out the text for the sermon before I invoke God’s threefold Name, then start the sermon after that. Often the text has a very direct bearing on the sermon, but sometimes it’s part of a greater mix, so to speak, and at other times it has only a ‘solve this puzzle’ relationship. This morning, the sermon rests on a number of parts of all three readings, so this one falls into the ‘in a mix’ category.
** I’m bemused by the number of articles, PR statements, and explanations for the successive changes in the NIV that have been deleted over the years — leaving no authoritative record of what the Committee on Biblical Translation or the publishers were doing or thinking. Now the readily available testimony comes only from on-lookers: critics, commentators, kibitzers. If everything were as above-board as one would ordinarily think, why delete pages that refer to a sequence of changes in translation? Conveniently, the Wayback Machine does a sterling job of retrieving what editors, comms officers, PR flacks, and others would want to have erased. Thank you, Wayback Machine!
Continue reading “Warn, Wake, and Walk”

Whoosh!

So, I braved Black Friday sales to find a new pair of running shoes yesterday. The shop was crowded, but I identified a couple of possible pairs fairly promptly, tried them on (nowadays this seems to involve summoning the shoes from an off-site warehouse in the Channel Isles, since it takes so long for the shoes to appear once you request them), tried on the first pair, tried on the second pair, decided the first were better, and fled the mercantile crush for home.

Sermon-writing went adequately, grocery shopping was all right apart from forgetting one or two vital items, and I watched Taggart while Margaret went out to socialise with other Oxford ethicists.

This morning’s run went well, I suppose. I hurried out because I slept longer than I anticipated, fell in with another runner who set a rigorous pace for me, and I must have gone much more rapidly at the start than I’d have expected, since I got home in a better time than average even though the last half of the run felt like a desperate slog.

Back To Two

I can’t put it off forever, I reasoned, so I gathered my… whatever and ran my miles again this morning. It didn’t feel too bad; my muscles were tight, but my knee didn’t hurt that much. And I really need to get a new pair of running shoes — I’d share a picture of mine, but the uneven wear on mine might give some sensitive readers the heebie-jeebies. My pace was about average — not improving my average, but just about matching it.

Today’s tasks include writing the sermon for tomorrow at St Michael’s, perhaps going to Oxford to buy new trainers, some grocery shopping….

Counting Down the Hours

I haven’t resumed my morning runs yet; my knees still feel rusty and stiff, and I’m reluctant to risk making things worse by demanding too much of them. I have, however, been making steady progress on The Last Essay, and I’m feeling positive about finishing it on or ahead of deadline (ludicrously extended deadline, but deadline nonetheless). I talked with Rob, one of my editors, at the SBL meeting, and he seemed satisfied with the direction it’s taking, though that may just have been a form of editorial Stockholm Syndrome.

End of All Saints Looking At Advent

Last Wednesday (the cold, below-4° day) I preached a homily at the midweek Communion service at St Halen’s. At the time, I thought lightly of it — nothing wrong with it (well, I saw a couple of inconcinnities, but I’m never quite satisfied with my work anyway), but no need to post it online; nobody would miss out on its being not here.

I still feel that way, myself, but yesterday I met a congregant who had very high regard for it, so I felt as though there might be another appreciative reader out there. Anyway, it’s here below the fold. (Yes, that should be ‘26 November’, I’ve gone back to correct it in the original file. Likewise ‘Deeath’.)
Continue reading “End of All Saints Looking At Advent”

Where We Are Again

So, I slept several hours yesterday afternoon, then took a deep sleep of normal length last night, and today I’ve been micronapping on and off, and feeling the jet lag. Luckily, Thursday is a low-demand day for parish responsibilities. I’ve worked on my sermon for Sunday, and worked on my inbox, and napped.

I didn’t run this morning, giving my balky knee another day of rest. Maybe tomorrow; I have a couple of kilos to burn away after five days of American conference eating.

On Our Way Home

My knee is responding positively, I think, to the more gentle treatment I’ve been giving it. I may try a run. tomorrow morning, or perhaps Thursday.

I’ve been wearing my slip-on Merrells all through the conference, not because I lack class (though I make no claims in that department) but because, like an inverse Eugene Levy (Best in Show) I brought two right shoes of the more grown-up shoes I brought for the trip. My feet, however, are a left-right pair, so I’ve had to rely on the shoes I intended to wear only for the plane trip.

Full Days, Fell Behind

In an update to running news, I have been taking time off from running since my left knee has been complaining, and I mistrust the treadmills here, so out of an abundance of caution I’m letting my conference walking count for my exercise. That’s abundant walking, no running.

The SBL conference has been great, except it’s overrun with young people, even middle-aged people, whom I don’t recognise (and obviously they don’t recognise me). What has the academic world come to, I ask you? Home tomorrow.

Much to think about, and increased… not quite ‘urgency’, but energy toward my hermeneutics project, and possibly a book about parables, and there’s always Margaret’s and my collaboration on ‘The Goodness of the Bad, the Badness of he Good’. Looking forward to retirement, at least, if not to maybe getting a little writing done during my parish work.

Indoor Run

I ran my two miles this morning, and tried to do it as a ‘workout’, but failed, for a number of reasons. I tried to connect my watch to the hi-tech treadmill I was using, but the connection dropped at some point wiwhtout letting me know. The interface of the treadmill was way more detailed than I’m used to, so I spent some early running time figuring out which buttons and which arrows to push, and so on. It became clear after I’d run about a third of a mile that I had misjudged the ‘speed’ setting and had already been running for a few minutes, so I needed to run way faster than usual to catch up, which I then tried to do, but it became clear that I was overdoing my comfortable pace and wouldn’t be able to sustain it. Eventually I just dialled the speed down, took it as a run-walk day, and I’ll try to return to a usual overall pace tomorrow.

Rain Below 4°

Rain below 4° should be prohibited. I will certainly have a word with someone on this topic eventually. Obviously, I did not run this morning; it’s challenging enough for me to walk to church for Morning Prayer and the midweek Communion service, then followed by Staff Meeting. After all that I’ll head home and begin preparing for the upcoming SBL meeting.

Frost Frost Baby

This morning’s run took on what the BBC just called England’s coldest night of the autumn. The parked cars I passed had frost on their windscreens; the cold cut right through my sweatshirt to chill me from the start. At the same time, I had an intense reason to make the run as short as I could. That, and having warmed up more than yesterday, contributed to a very good pace indeed.

Coffee, fruit, shower, dress, Morning Prayer, some odds and errands, then home for reading, writing, wee tasks.

I’ve disengaged significantly from Facebook, and mostly from X, but I’ve been spending a lot of time on BlueSky. Looking ahead, I want to starve FB and X for attention, and reach toward ‘disengaged’ status on bsky. Heaven willing, I’ll redirect some of that attention to blogging, but also toward drawing back from social media in general. I write very much better when I take time to think about what I have to say, and express myself at the length my careful writing warrants. Nobody needs my off-the-cuff response to a governmental initiative, or an academic aperçu, or fountain pen folly, and no one will be appreciably impoverished by my absence. And anyone who really wants to read me can head over here!

Cold Morning Start

The weather cleared and the temperature dropped overnight, with the result that the pavements were very dry for the first time in ten days or so, and the air felt Baltic — the kind of cold air that bites your lungs when you inhale, a no-big-deal 5° chilled to -3° by breezes. I forgot to stretch my legs before I started, and when my legs were beginning to limber up they felt the cold and decided to stay tight instead. Overall, though, my time was mildly below the average I’d been building before the recent rains.

Coffee, fruit, shower and dress, Morning Prayer, then I’ll come home and write for a while, then into Oxford to meet a former student’s daughter (now an undergrad at the University). Then home again. That`’s the day.

See You In Year A

This morning’s homily went all right, I think; at a certain point people get used to one’s preaching and it becomes harder to calibrate the extent to which they’re responding to this particular sermon as opposed to the extent to which they’re responding to the aggregate of all one’s past sermons.I wasn’t rendered uncomfortable while preaching it, though I’m certain there’s room for clarifying or refining what I will post here (below the fold), so this one probably hits the broad ‘average’ range for my homiletics.
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Two Days In A Row

Ordinarily it would be no great thing for me to run twice in two days, but last week’s rainy weather has precluded consecutive running for a short while. No matter, I ran this morning in another very good time, and without a strong sense of short breath, stiff legs, tired muscles or such obstacles. Not that I felt springy and oxygenated, mind you, but I achieved adequate stride and pace and breathing. It’s, I think, a new plateau.

Coffee, fruit, browsing, shower, dress, off to St Michael’s for today’s Sung Mass, and with no post-Mass obligations I’ll be free to take a leisurely stroll homeward. This afternoon I expect to work on a homily for Wednesday’s midweek Communion, and perhaps inch the ball closer to the goal on The Last Essay. I noted to Margaret yesterday that part of what makes this essay go slowly is that I’m learning so much in my research; I just want to keep reading and probing, as though I were building for myself a secondary speciality. TThat’s ruled out by my already over-stretched deadline, but I do take comfort in feeling the leetle grey cells asserting themselves in the course of research.

Back to a Usual Saturday

No rain this morning, hallelujah, so I took my mormning run, and although I felt rusty and out of breath, I made it in a good time. Coffee, hot breakfast, shower, say Morning Prayer (at home), and now I must buckle down and write tomorrow’s sermon (and if I allow any interstices in homiletical composition, there’s that Last Essay staring balefully at me…).

More Rain Less Run

At least this morning’s rain has a name: it’s Storm Claudia (manifestly not ‘Tropical Storm’ when you get to England), and my phone says that we’ve gotten 19mm of rain in the last 24 hours and can expect another 31 by tomorrow at this time. The rain may have abated by running time tomorrow, though. I hope so.

Is this a mark of my autism? I think so — it’s hard to account for any other way. I have several pairs of shoes uppers are entirely fine, soles mostly so, except that they have tiny cracks in their rubber soles. Obviously they make no difference in dry weather, but they do leak when the pavement is wet. Now, the sensible person would (a) get rid of them altogether or (b) wear them only in dry weather but (c) I have great difficulty overcoming the sense that they oughtn’t leak and that I should be able to wear them in rainy weather, so… I do. In a related news flash, I will be wearing my boots, or perhaps even my wellies, when I next go out.

Coffee, fruit, clean up, dress, Morning Prayer, check for phone messages at the parish centre (none, yay!), home for coffee and toast, now about to squeeze a bit of reading in before my much-needed haircut, then in to Oxford for the NT Seminar, then home, check messages on the way if I remember, and a restful evening with the mosst wonderful woman in the world (sorry, the rest of you).

Running Return

Finally got a clear morning, and though I definitely felt the effects of the missed days (especially since the rain meant less walking in general, not just cancelled running), I had a moderately good run. It certainly would have qualified as a good run a fortnight ago, before I stumbled into a significantly faster niche of times. Then coffee, fruit, shower, dressed, Morning Prayer, coffee, toast, and reading and writing toward The Last Essay. I’ll visit Fr Keith for a home communion midday, then run a couple of errands and back home for a bit more work, if I can grit my teeth and squeeze out another word or two.

Another Morning’s Rain

More rain, no run, alas (I’m mildly resentful that weather is interrupting my practice of doing something I don’t like to do in the first place). At least I got a bit of a lie-in from it, then coffee, hot breakfast, cleaned up, Morning Prayer, home for coffee and toast, and shortly in to the Parish Centre for my Ministry Development Review. I doubt this will be a particularly surprising exercise, but one never knows — which, I reckon, is the point of having an outside reviewer come to town to size one up and give feedback.

Then home for lunch and back to other work, presumably toward The Last Essay.