I had a horrible experience in between our 8:30 and 11:00 Vinebranch services yesterday morning. Since I woke up (on this, my day off) still thinking about it, I thought I would share it with you, my faithful readers.
Yesterday, about 9:30, I had just finished preaching, the service was over, and the band was playing the outro. I intended to make my way to the narthex of our chapel to greet parishioners as they left—as I always do. Before I did that, however, I greeted a visitor who was standing near the front of the chapel. He was the special guest—a messianic Jew—who would be speaking to some Sunday school classes in the Vinebranch chapel between services. He had spoken the week before, and I heard from church people that his presentation was interesting.
When I greeted him, I said, “I heard good things about your talk last week.” He thanked me and introduced himself. “Where did you go to seminary?” he asked.
That should have been my first warning, but I took the bait and answered. “Hey, do you have a minute to talk?” he asked me. Again, I should have seen a theological argument brewing, but I took the bait again. Why do I do this?
What followed was an argument about the modern state of Israel and the Bible. How this happened is a blur to me. I think I said that I believe (along with classic Christian theology) that God’s covenant with Israel is completely fulfilled in and through Jesus Christ. I hope and believe (along with Paul in Romans 9-11) that ethnic Israel’s rejection of the Messiah isn’t permanent, and that many Jews will yet come to faith in Jesus before the Second Coming.
I also said that, unlike him, I don’t see any continuity between the modern state of Israel and Israel of the Bible. Again, to be clear, the covenant with Israel is fulfilled in and through Jesus. It’s not clear to me how an event in the modern world—like, for example, the establishment of the modern state of Israel in 1948—should send theologians scrambling back to their Bibles to revise two millennia of Christian thinking on the subject.
(And, no, I’m not saying that the Church or Christians haven’t been deeply anti-Semitic at times. But the Roman Catholic Church, for example, didn’t need the events of 1948 to know that holding Jews collectively responsible for Jesus’ death was immoral and anti-Jewish.)
Needless to say, he didn’t see things my way. He was proof-texting Zephaniah to me! Zephaniah! Off the top of my head, I couldn’t tell you one thing about Zephaniah. I wish I could, but I can’t. And all I could think was, “Why are we having this argument?”
Why are we having this argument?
Some of my fellow pastors can answer this question: We were having this argument because it’s 9:35 on Sunday morning, and I’ve just preached my heart out, and I’m exhausted, and I’m in no frame of mind to be having a deep theological discussion.
Over the past eight years or so, I’ve had arguments with parishioners or church visitors immediately after a service about a half-dozen times. In each and every case, I should have told the person, “I’d be happy to talk with you about this later. Call me on Tuesday, and make an appointment when I’m in a better frame of mind.”
In retrospect, it makes so much sense to say this, but I never seem to think of it in the heat of the moment. God help me!
To the credit of my messianic Jewish brother, he followed me out of the chapel and apologized for coming on so strong. But I shouldn’t have let the situation come to that.
Memorize these words, Brent: “I would love to talk about that later. How about giving me a call Tuesday and making an appointment?”