Baby Shark

If you are the parent or grandparent of a young child or children, you know the song “Baby Shark.”

You probably know it even if you aren’t a parent or grandparent. It’s ubiquitous. It’s also everywhere.

It’s even in the world of baseball. Specifically, it’s in the Washington Nationals’ part of the world of baseball.

That’s a part of the baseball world that I usually pay little attention to unless they’re playing the Braves. But now they’re in the World Series and the Braves aren’t, even though the Braves finished ahead of them in the National League’s Eastern Division.

(By the way, I don’t like the wild card. I don’t think baseball teams that don’t win their division should make the playoffs. But I digress.)

But it is what it is. And the Nationals may have won the World Series by the time you read this.

Now back to our story.

Washington’s “Baby Shark” craze started back in June when Nationals outfielder Gerardo Parra started using the song as his walk-up music.

(By the way, I’m old enough to remember when baseball players didn’t have walk-up music. The announcer announced their names and they walked up to the plate. I miss those days. I also despise the designated hitter. But I digress.)

Parra chose the song because his kids like it. That’s a very good reason.

Our grandson Sullivan likes it too. His version is better than anyone else’s version. Our granddaughter Isabella is too young to sing, but if she could, her version would be better than anyone else’s too.

Now “Baby Shark” is a thing in Washington. People at Nationals games do the motions (does “YMCA” have competition? ). Grown people wear shark costumes to the games. Players “chomp” with their arms.

(Such chomping is too Florida Gators-like for my taste. But I digress).

How big a thing is it in Washington? Watch the Washington National Cathedral Organists Play "Baby Shark” and you’ll see how big a thing it is. It’s a very big thing.

You might also watch some Lebanon Protestors sing "Baby Shark.”

Thousands of protestors have been in the streets of Lebanon’s capital city Beirut. They’re protesting about economic conditions and government corruption.

The other day, a mother and her fifteen month-old son were in their car when it became surrounded by protestors. The mother told the protestors that her son was frightened. About a dozen of them sang “Baby Shark” to him to calm his fears.

“Baby Shark” is an earworm song. It gets in your head, and you can’t get it out. It’s irritating.

I don’t really care that it makes Washington Nationals fans happy.

But if it brings joy to children, I’m all for it.

Here’s a thought: what if we judged all of our policies and practices by the answer to this question: is it good for children—for our children, for America’s children, and for the world’s children?

Yes, that just might be a good thing to do, do, do, do, do, do.

The Gospels

I’m in the middle of teaching a college course on the New Testament, and we just finished talking about the Gospels. I’m also about to start teaching another course, this one on just the Gospels.

So I’ve had the Gospels on my mind. This is a good thing.

Here are a few fun facts about the Gospels.

First, they were all written well after Jesus lived, died, and rose again. The Gospel of Mark is probably the oldest of the Gospels, dating to around 70 A.D. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke were probably written ten to twenty years after Mark, and John a few years later than Matthew and Luke. During the years between Jesus’ departure and the first written Gospel, preachers and teachers shared the stories about and teachings of Jesus orally.

Second, the Gospels are all anonymous. None of them say who wrote them. The titles (“The Gospel According to Mark,” for instance) were added later.

Third, the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke are close kin. We call them the Synoptic Gospels; “synoptic” means “seeing together.” We call them that because of their similarities. Most of what’s in the Gospel of Mark is also in Matthew and Luke, so most scholars think that both Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source. (By the way, Luke tells us right up front that he used sources. It’s in Luke 1:1-4.)

Matthew and Luke also contain a lot of sayings of Jesus that Mark doesn’t have. Most scholars think they had access to a “Sayings Source” (we call it Q, abbreviated from the German Quelle, which means “source”). No such document exists, but scholars infer its one-time existence from the texts of Matthew and Luke. For example, most of what Jesus says in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (chapters 5–7) is also in Luke’s Gospel, but the sayings are scattered all over the book. So it seems that Matthew and Luke both had a source that contained those sayings, but each of them organized and presented them in different ways.

Fourth, the Gospel of John is a much different kind of book than the other three Gospels. Most of what is in John’s Gospel isn’t in the other three. Only John has Jesus’ “I am” sayings (“I am the bread of life”; “I am the light of the world,” etc.). On the night Jesus is betrayed, John tells of Jesus’ washing his disciples feet, but not of his establishing the Lord’s Supper.

Fifth, there are four Gospels in the New Testament. They tell the story of Jesus in different ways. You may or may not have wondered why we have four stories of Jesus rather than just one.

Some folks have tried to construct a single story out of the four New Testament Gospels. In the second century, a fellow named Tatian compiled a harmonized version of the Gospels called the Diatessaron (“Harmony of Four”). It was popular for a while, but it fell out of favor. By their ongoing use of the four Gospels, the early Christians decided that four were better than one. (You can acquire a modern version of a harmony of the Gospels, but I agree with the early Christians: four are better than one.)

So why do we have four Gospels? Each Gospel comes from and addresses a different community in a different setting. The writers present the story of Jesus in ways that address the situation of the community for which they are writing. They interpret the story of Jesus in varying ways in order to proclaim the same truth to different communities: the crucified and resurrected Jesus is the Messiah and Savior.

Sixth, two thousand years later, the Gospels continue to challenge, convict, inspire, and instruct us. Christians should read them because they teach us of Jesus and of what it means to follow him. Everyone should read them because they are utterly fascinating.

Seventh and last, the word “Gospel” means “good news.” The four Gospels contain the best news that has ever been told. So I encourage you to read them.

We sure could use the good news today.

Processes and Responses

At 10:00 p.m. on Tuesday, December 12, 2000, the Supreme Court of the United States issued its decision that, on a 5-4 vote, decided the case of Bush v. Gore in George W. Bush’s favor. It was and is a controversial decision. It would have also been controversial had it gone the other way.

Gore had won the popular vote by over half a million votes. But, once Bush had Florida in his column, he had the majority of the Electoral College votes.

I’ll be upfront and tell you—surely to the surprise of no one who knows me and/or reads my writings—that the decision didn’t go the way I wanted it to go. I voted for Gore because I thought he’d be a better president than Bush, so I wanted the Court to rule in his favor.

But it didn’t. And on the next day, Wednesday, December 13, 2000, Gore conceded the election to Bush. As I understand it, Gore had other options. But he chose to concede so the country could move on. He put what seemed to be the nation’s best interests ahead of his personal political ambitions.

I was proud of our nation when no riots broke out in American cities and towns on Thursday, December 14, 2000. While I believed that a flawed system had placed the wrong person in the White House, I was nonetheless grateful that we accepted the results the system had given us.

Half of the American electorate didn’t like the way the Supreme Court decision in Bush v. Gore, and thus the presidential election, turned out. Many Democrats believed that Bush was an illegitimate president. As time went on, a lot of us didn’t think Bush was a very good president.

But we didn’t revolt. We didn’t threaten insurrection. Many of us thought the system had failed, but we begrudgingly accepted the results and tried to move on.

Now, some of you are thinking, “Yeah, but lots of you turned out after Donald Trump’s win in 2016. You didn’t just accept the results and move on.”

You’re right about that. Many of us turned out and demonstrated (I didn’t, but I have beloved family members and friends who did. I try to do my part by writing) because we believed that, unlike Bush, the newly elected president embodied a rejection of fundamental American principles, not to mention basic human dignity. We believed that the threat to our Constitution and to our nation needed to be identified as such.

Now we have reached a point where an impeachment inquiry is underway. We’ll see where it goes. Some of us think it’s necessary, while others of us think it isn’t. That’s a matter of opinion, and everybody has one of those.

Here’s what isn’t a matter of opinion: impeachment is the constitutional process for removing a president from office for cause. The relevant clause, found in Article 2, Section 4 of the Constitution of the United States, reads: “The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.”

The House of Representatives is charged with passing articles of impeachment, and the members of the Senate with serving as jurors in a trial presided over by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Senators vote on whether to convict or acquit.

This is the third impeachment inquiry into a president that the nation has experienced in my lifetime. The House Judiciary Committee approved articles of impeachment against Richard Nixon, but he resigned before the House voted on them. The House impeached Bill Clinton, but the Senate acquitted him.

We’ll see where the current impeachment inquiry goes.

I’m just asking that we all recognize the legitimacy of the process. This is the process our Founding Fathers set up, and we need to trust it.

If, upon its completion, people who are displeased with its outcome feel a need to respond, I hope we will do so in orderly and peaceful fashion.

You know, like many people did in the Women’s March on Washington on the day after President Trump’s inauguration.

Dead Skunk (Possum, Squirrel, Armadillo) in the Middle of the Road

I tend not to notice roadkill until it’s too late.

I’ll be driving merrily along, and I’ll feel that little bump from running over something that’s already dead.

If my Good Wife is a passenger in the car I’m driving, she’ll cringe when I run over a dead animal. Kindly and gently, she’ll say, “I started to tell you it was in the road, but I figured you’d see it.”

This has happened many times. You’d think that by now, she’d realize her figuring is off.

Actually, I think she has figured it out. The last time it happened, she observed, “I think you’re good at noticing what’s way up ahead, but not so good at seeing what’s right in front of you.”

I think she’s right. (Just in case she reads this, let me add that she’s always right.)

Now, to be fair to me, let me note that I do notice and avoid large roadkill, such as a deer. I’m also pretty good at not hitting live animals.

Still, this strikes me as a good metaphor for the different ways people approach life. Some of us focus on what’s way down the road, while others of us focus on what’s right in front of us.

For example, some Christians are so heavenly minded, they’re no earthly good. On the other hand, some are so focused on here and now, they fail to consider eternity.

Some Americans are so focused on immediate gratification, they forget to consider long-term stability. On the other hand, some are so focused on having enough in their retirement years, they don’t have much fun now.

Some politicians are so focused on what’s good for them in next week’s poll or in next year’s election, they fail to consider what’s best for future generations. On the other hand, some are so focused on future generations that they—well, I actually can’t think of any politicians who are so intent on looking down the road that they fail to consider their own immediate prospects. If you know of any, please let me know.

My point is that we all need to have a balanced way of looking at things. We need to pay attention to what’s happening here and now. We need to be aware of what’s happening right in front of us. But we also need to pay attention to what’s way down the road.

Christians need to lay up treasure in heaven while also working to make life less hellish for those who are suffering, who are oppressed, and who are rejected.

We all need to save as best we can for retirement while also living as full a life as we can right now.

Our political leaders need always to be thinking about the long-term implications of their policies and programs while also considering the effect they’ll have on people today.

None of this is easy, but it’s what comes with being responsible adult human beings.

The road we’re on simultaneously sits right in front of us and stretches way ahead of us.

Wise people will keep their eyes on all of it.

Forty-Four Years Later

In September 1975, I entered Mercer University as a freshman. Mercer followed the quarter system back then, so three courses constituted a full load.

Two of my first three courses were held in Knight Hall.

I was a Christianity major and Greek minor, and Knight Hall housed both of those departments. During my Mercer career, I took, as best I can recall, nineteen classes in that building—all of my Christianity and Greek courses, plus three Sociology classes and one course each in Philosophy and Political Science.

I will always be grateful for what I learned in that building from Professors Giddens, Otto, McManus, Youman, Evans, Quimbao, Albritton, Brown, and Johnson.

I graduated from Mercer in 1978. In the years since, I’ve been back in Knight Hall a handful of times.

Last week, I walked into Knight Hall as an Adjunct Professor. I’m teaching a course called “Engaging the New Testament.”

I’ve been teaching part-time for Mercer over the last few years. To this point, all of my classes have been through what until recently was called Penfield College (they just changed the name to the College of Professional Advancement; I’ll keep calling it Penfield to save energy and words).

I enjoy teaching with Penfield. The students are mainly what we used to call “non-traditional.” They’re working adults who usually come directly from their places of employment to take four-hour long night classes. I admire their dedication and am honored to work with them.

This is the first time I’ve taught in the Religion (formerly Christianity) Department in the College of Liberal Arts in Macon. Most of the students in this class are freshmen. They just finished high school in May. They’re young.

In our first class meeting, I promised my students I wouldn’t bore them throughout the semester with “back when I was a Mercer student” stories. But I said I was going to bore them this one time.

I proceeded to tell them about how I made the long journey (less than forty miles, but it seemed long to me) from Barnesville to Macon. I told them about how nervous—scared, even—I was about whether or not I could succeed in college. I told them about how my mother had died in May before I entered Mercer in September.

I told them about how Mercer had changed my life. I told them about how much my professors meant to me. I told them about how I met my Good Wife there.

I told them how grateful I was to share in their educational experience.

I told them some of my story.

I don’t know their stories yet. I hope I get to learn at least a little about who they are.

I hope their experience at Mercer is as life-changing as mine was.

I hope I make a small contribution to it.

I hope that, if and when they remember me forty-four years down the road, they’ll feel a little bit of gratitude.

I hope they’ll remember me with a smile.

Divisions

In Luke 12:49-59, Jesus says that his coming causes division. He highlights the divisions that occur in families.

By the time Luke’s Gospel was written, such division over Jesus was certainly happening in families. Those who believed in and followed Jesus became alienated from family members who didn’t. Such divisions still happen, particularly in cultures where another religion dominates.

These days, we have divisions in the family of faith. Christians are divided against each other.

Some such divisions have been around so long that we hardly think about them. Some of them are official and formalized, as in the existence of multiple denominations and branches of denominations.

We’re accustomed to some of these divisions to the point of being good-natured about them. People in one denomination might give those in another a hard time, but they’re usually just kidding.

Divisions within denominations, on the other hand, are no laughing matter, and many denominations have faced, are facing, and will face them.

These days we face serious divisions within the larger family of faith. I’m thinking especially of the church in the United States.

In our current political and social climate, Christians have taken up opposing positions. Put too simply, on one side are the evangelicals and on the other side are the progressives.

(As I said, that’s putting it too simply—far, far too simply. But it would take a very long essay to cover the needed caveats, explanations, and exceptions. So we’ll have to settle for the general terms.)

When Jesus talked about the divisions that his coming would produce, he meant divisions between those who follow him and those who don’t.

We are dealing with divisions between people who all believe they are following Jesus.

I’ve had people say to me, “I don’t see how you can be a Christian and take that position.” My response to them is, “Back atcha.”

This is a difficult situation. It is difficult because both sides can’t be right. It is also difficult because once we become convinced that we’re the ones who are truly on Jesus’ side (and that he is on ours), we become entrenched and defensive.

The line between righteousness and self-righteousness can be a fine one.

There are some calls that should be easy, though. For example, people who embrace racism, sexism, and misogyny are wrong, and those who embrace equality, justice, and respect are right. People who act out of hate and fear are wrong, and those who act out of love and hope are right.

How can we move toward being people who truly follow Jesus and thus truly represent him in the current situation and in future ones? How can we be as sure as we can be that we are really following Jesus?

First, we can keep our minds open. There is always more to learn about who Jesus is and who Jesus would have us be. Once we let our perspectives and opinions become set in stone, we get awfully attached to our monuments.

Second, we can keep our hearts humble. We all have a long way to go. It’s best to keep that in mind. Besides, it’s not about being right. It’s about being a follower of Jesus, wherever that takes us. We live and serve by the grace of God. We must take care that we not become proud of it.

Third, we can continually read and study the Gospels. We are blessed to have them. They contain what the Spirit and the early church’s teachers, preachers, writers, compilers, and editors determined we need to know about Jesus. I’d suggest we read at least a chapter a day. We should do so prayerfully, asking God to help us know how we can best follow and bear witness to Jesus.

Fourth, we can think, speak, and act in love, grace, and mercy. If we find ourselves about to adopt an attitude, make a statement, or perform an action that doesn’t demonstrate Jesus’ love, grace, and mercy, we need to stop. Then we need to move on toward attitudes, statements, and actions that do.

Faithfulness to Jesus can create division. We need to do all we can to make sure we are following Jesus as best we can, including in the ways we deal with our sisters and brothers we find ourselves divided from.

(This post first appeared at Coracle, the blog of NextSunday Resources.)

We’d Better Move Over

I recently completed teaching an eight-week class on Wednesday evenings at Mercer University’s Henry County Center in McDonough. My usual route home takes me down I-75 to the Barnesville/Jackson exit.

These days, the Georgia Department of Transportation is resurfacing that stretch of interstate highway. They do the work at night. My class ended at 9:45 p.m.

You do the math.

Luckily, I have these nice apps on my phone to help me. One night, I requested one such app to take me to the best route home. It knew (I don’t know how) that the interstate was a parking lot due to the construction, so it took me on what would have been a scenic route had it not been too dark to see.

On another night, the app said that traffic on the interstate was moving well, so I went that way. The app was right, and I zipped right on down the highway.

Then there was a third night. The app assured me that the interstate was the best way to go.

The app lied.

As a result, I found myself sitting still for half an hour two miles from my exit.

It was mildly irritating. But I was listening to a very interesting podcast, so it was no big deal.

What did bother me about the situation was how unnecessary it was. And it was unnecessary because of—what else?—people.

You see, a few miles before the point where the work began, there were signs saying things like, “Road work ahead. Two left lanes closed. Merge right.”

I processed the information. If road work was ahead, and if the two left lanes were going to be closed, then the suggestion to move over to the right lane seemed a good one.

So I did. And then I rolled along in the right lane for a few miles with people zipping by me in the two left lanes.

I kept on rolling and they kept on zipping—until I stopped rolling and they stopped zipping.

The bottleneck occurred when the people driving in the two left lanes—the lanes that those signs had miles ago—miles ago!— warned them were going to be closed—suddenly needed to get in the far right lane, where I and other people already were because (1) we can read and (2) we have the good sense to take warnings seriously and to do what we need to do to avoid problems down the road.

This is a metaphor for the place in which we find ourselves.

There are all kinds of signs warning us of what’s coming.

There are signs warning us that if we don’t do something, climate change is going to get worse, with ominous implications for our health, the economy, and national security.

There are signs warning us that if we don’t do something, disregard for the Constitution at the highest levels is going to get worse, with ominous implications for our government, our freedom, and our role in the world.

There are signs warning us that if we don’t do something, demagoguery that uses fear and ignorance to create and widen divisions among us is going to get worse, with ominous implications for our society, our politics, and our common good.

There are signs warning us that if we don’t do something, health care problems that come from placing more value on corporate profits than on human lives are going to get worse, with ominous implications for our well-being, our finances, and our stability.

If we don’t respond to the warning signs by doing something positive and constructive, we’ll soon find ourselves stuck with no exit available.

We ignore the warning signs to our own peril, and to the even greater peril of our children, their children, and their children.

The signs are there. We’d better start moving over before it’s too late.