Banning Books When Children Aren’t Reading

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Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

The rise in book challenges and bans is disturbing for a number of reasons. In 2019, 566 books were challenged. That number has jumped to over 2500 in 2022, according to NPR. I don’t want to add to the spate of articles about this phenomenon except to say that the mark of a free society is that we mutually agree to protect the freedom of those who are saying things we don’t like. The arguments that those who are on the religious and cultural right use to challenge certain books can be used by others to challenge or ban the Bible and religious texts.

Instead, I want to address another aspect of the reading lives of our children that I do not hear mentioned–children are reading less, especially just for the fun of it. Fewer are cultivating the lifelong love of reading that carries so many benefits from being lifelong learners to greater empathy and expanded horizons. For example, in both 1984 and 2012, 53 percent of nine year olds read for fun every day. That number has dropped to 42 percent in 2020, according to a Pew Research Center article. Meanwhile the number of children who never read for fun has risen from 9 percent in 1984 to 16 percent in 2020.

This seems to me what we should be talking about.

Instead we are sending the message that books (at least some of them) are dangerous. We are de-funding libraries, where generations have learned to love reading, especially among those of low and moderate incomes. Instead of books having warm associations of bringing people together around the love of story, we are fighting about books. I suspect the kids have noticed.

While these are good reasons to re-consider our culture wars on books, it is also important that we pay attention to the ubiquitous presence of screens in children’s lives. Tweens and teens are spending seven to ten hours a day using online media. While part of this is educational, a good amount comes in various forms of social media or video gaming. Now isn’t some of this actually a good thing? We are reading when we are on the internet in at least some instances. Yet there are real questions as to whether this is changing the way we think, and particularly our ability to focus and concentrate for extended periods, important for solving complex problems, learning intricate processes, and following an extended argument. This article at Online College offers a balanced perspective on this question.

It seems to me that there are some good places where we can begin

  1. Agreeing on screen free-times in households. You can do anything you want that doesn’t involve a screen.
  2. Read aloud together. So much of the love of reading comes in shared time reading stories everyone loves.
  3. We need to find ways to stop opposing reading for comprehension and reading for fun. It seems that the fun of reading ought only be enhanced by understanding what we are reading. Too often, I hear that the focus of reading comprehension is for the passing of standardized tests. I don’t think it was always like this. I loved reading, and I did just fine on standardized tests.
  4. It also seems that reading education is often focusing on parts of texts rather than whole stories. A recent Atlantic article asks if this is part of the problem. Children love whole stories.
  5. It seems that we need to help children find the kinds of books they like to read and at the level where they are able to read, or perhaps stretching that just a bit with something they are really interested in. Librarians are great at this and ought to have all the resources they need to do this.
  6. Perhaps we also need to consider our own reading habits. Children are great imitators. My mom loved to read and often we’d either read or talk about what we were reading at lunch times.
  7. Do we have books around the home and do children have books of their own? I remember Scholastic Book Clubs and being able to choose a couple books that I could order and have for my own. This is also the genius, it seems, of Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library in which children can be signed up to receive a free book in the mail each month. C.S. Lewis grew up in a home filled with books and loved reading from an early age.

Rather than talking about what books shouldn’t be available to our children, a matter over which various constituencies disagree, why can’t we focus on something I suspect most thoughtful individuals do agree upon–that cultivating the love of reading in our children, not just a proficiency measured by standardized tests, is a worthy goal of our educational efforts? We cannot leave this just to lawmakers, librarians, and teachers, however. We ought to give this attention in our homes and places of worship and in the various extra-curricular activities in which children participate. We could introduce children who love sports to great sports writing. For those who love the arts, there is a wealth of books on the arts. Budding scientists may find math puzzle books and science texts and biographies to be great fun.

Will we allow ourselves to be distracted by the purveyors of outrage into crusades against books or will we pay attention to the fundamentally important work of cultivating in our children a love of reading? If we do not, I fear those who would ban will be far more successful than they dreamed. It is not that children will not read books considered “inappropriate” or “woke.” It won’t be a problem. Children just will not read. Period.

Review: On Getting Out of Bed

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On Getting Out of Bed, Alan Noble. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2023.

Summary: Written for those whose experience of life or mental state make even getting out of bed a challenge, offering encouragement that even this is courageous and testifies to the goodness of God, and of life.

What’s the bravest thing you ever did?…

Getting up this morning

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

This epigraph opens this personal essay from Alan Noble. He writes for those for whom life is hard. It may be the circumstances they face: grieving a loss, dealing with chronic illness and suffering, abuses and injustices, addictions, and experiences of failure. It may be that one is overwhelmed with the brokenness of the world. It may manifest as a mental affliction, either accompanying such difficulties or apart from them, including depression, anxiety disorders, obsessive-compulsive disorders, or panic attacks. Sometimes you just feel blue, or exhausted, or lethargic. And in these circumstances, even getting out of bed is hard.

Noble doesn’t deny the benefit that may come from mental health care. He also acknowledges that it doesn’t always readily change things, as important and as valuable as he believes it to be. For him it still comes down to a choice that we are able to make: to get out of bed. The question sometimes is having good enough reasons to do so.

He contends that as human beings, we image the invisible God. Our very existence is good, as is the God who brought us into existence. Our actions, in consequence, bear witness to another. The choice is to get out of bed today. Even though we do not know what the day holds, getting out of bed is a decision to live and to attest that life is worth the risk. It is an act both of worship to God and witness to others.

To get out of bed is to do the next thing, not to just to keep existing, but to be faithful to God as we do “whatever good work He has put before us.” It also means recognizing that how we are feeling doesn’t excuse our responsibilities to one another, which includes the support of others who struggle to get out of bed. We help each other.

He honestly faces the reality of suicidal ideation, and without condemning the decisions of those who have chosen not to live, he contends that while we may not be able to “snap out of it,” “it does mean that for Christians who understand that the preservation of our life is an essential act of God’s love for us. suicide is not an option we can entertain” (p. 52). With the apostle Peter, he proposes that it will not always be so bad and that God will “restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” Meanwhile, we get out of bed.

And what about the times when we still can’t? The call is not to keep our struggle private, but to share it with those who love us. Sometimes, when our minds are not working right, we need others who see things better than we. And we need to trust them.

Noble, while not disclosing his own psychological history, plainly shares out of his own struggles to get out of bed at times. His own vulnerability both de-stigmatizes the struggle, and lends credibility to his call to take the next step of getting out of bed. His honesty about both his own and others struggles let us know that if we’re in this space, we are not there alone. And his account, as powerfully as any, attests to an underlying goodness of God, and the goodness of what God has made. His use of key passages in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, effectively underscores the conviction of life’s goodness that keeps us getting out of bed.

This is a book that honestly faces despair without wallowing in it. It points us to the best thing we can do in such times, which is to simply get up, put on the coffee, get dressed, and step into our days, believing we will be met there by God and his people.

For anyone struggling with thoughts of suicide or who is concerned for someone or needs emotional support, the 9-8-8 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is open 24/7. The call is free and confidential.

Or, text HOME to 741741 from anywhere in the United States, anytime. Crisis Text Line is here for any crisis. A live, trained Crisis Counselor receives the text and responds, all from a secure online platform.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: Things That Matter Most

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Things That Matter Most, Christopher de Vinck. Brewster: MA: Paraclete Press, 2022.

Summary: A collection of essays that remind us that the things that matter most are as close as the beauty of things around us from fireflies, to Fred Rogers, to friends and family, and to the tip of our fingers.

A few years ago, we were staying at an inn with a patio that looked out over fields in a rural setting. We were sitting as the evening was coming on and we began to see the meadow before us lit up with a light show of fireflies. We sat in wonder, recalling our memories of catching fireflies as children and the unfading wonder of these insects that can generate their own light beckoning, “Here I am.”

Christopher de Vinck’s collection of essays brought these memories to mind and how such simple and wondrous things point us to what matters most in our lives. His essays take us from the sea shore to the woods and to the wondrous “blue birds” seen by his mother, emigrating from Belgium, our common blue jay.

More than the wonders of our world, he explores the wonder of friendships. One of the earliest essays in the collection describes his “spiritual neighbor,” Fred Rogers who often ended conversations saying, “Well, Chris, you know who’s in charge.” He writes of the compassion of a policeman who caught up to his son on the highway to return a wallet the son had left on the car roof.

He moves from personal friends to those in literature from Hamlet to Jay Gatsby to Atticus Finch and Emily Dickinson and May Sarton, all people who give him some insight into the question of what matters most. He gives thanks to Wendell Berry and Toni Morrison. He reminds us of what J.D. Salinger, Paul Revere, and Alfred Stieglitz have in common–a shared birthday. He writes of helping the students he taught to find themselves in the literature they read:

“When we know who we are we can build a life upon wisdom, love, and compassion, and set the footprint of our lives firmly onto the earth for others to find who need the evidence and the inheritance of goodness as a guide for the future. When we know what matters most, we know where we are going” (p. 18).

His memories run back to his own childhood, to the Kennedy assassination, and down to the present, the closure of a neighborhood hardware store, and the death of loved ones. An essay of hearing a dripping of melting water outside turns into a reflection of the passage of time, and this is something that runs through his essays. He makes us aware of the fleeting wonder that is our lives, how full and rich and precious our shared moments are, precisely because they pass.

He concludes with recounting the death of his mother at 99, as “time ran out.” Not long before she died, she observed, “You don’t think of it, Christopher, but far ahead, yet closer than a heartbeat, something immense, wild, holy grabs you and won’t let go.” Her final words to Christopher? “I love you.”

We live in a broken and yet beautiful world with eternity in our hearts and mortality as our future. Christopher de Vinck offers us wonderful reflections on the seemingly ordinary, that point us to the truly precious in life.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: The Shadow of the Wind

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The Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves). New York: Penguin Books, 2005.

Summary: Daniel Sempere’s life is changed when he finds a mysterious book in the Cemetery of Lost Books, and embarks on a quest to learn the true story of its mysterious author, one that places him in great peril.

Daniel Sempere is the son of a widowed bookseller, struggling to retain the memory of his mother’s face. Then his father takes him through the labyrinthine streets of Barcelona to the Cemetery of Lost Books where he is directed to find one book that would become his. The book he chooses will be one he is to make sure never disappears. The book he chooses is one titled The Shadow of the Wind by a Julian Carax. He is enthralled and would know more about its author.

His father sends him to a fellow bookseller, from whom he learns that he possesses the only copy, all the others having been burned. He falls for the man’s blind daughter, several years older than he, and even gives her the book at one point, only to catch her in flagrante with her piano teacher. He retrieves the book.

A mysterious, and seemingly sinister figure approaches him to buy the book. He calls himself Lain Coubert, the name of a character in the book. He smells of smoke and his face darkened, shriveled. Daniel refuses, keeps his commitment to the book, and to learning the truth of Carax. He is aided by a beggar, Fermin, who he and his father take in. Fermin turns out to be a fascinating figure, and his and Daniel’s investigations take them on escapades throughout the city, one of the funniest in an asylum where they make a promise to a horny old man, He becomes Daniel’s mentor in the art of love as Daniel falls in love with his friend Tomas’ sister Beatriz.

Their investigations bring upon them an old enemy of Fermin in the form of police detective Fumero, an ambitious figure who pushed a mentor to his death, and has a vendetta against Carax. Their investigations also lead to a woman with a connection to Carax’s publisher, Nuria Monfort. They learn that Carax had been in love with Penelope. the daughter of the powerful Aldaya family, coveted by Fumero. In the end, he flees to Paris, where Nuria came in contact with him. He was supposed to have returned to Barcelona for Penelope, only to have supposedly died in a duel–Julian’s father seems to indicate that it was not his son whose body was found. It turns out that Nuria knows much more, revealed in a letter she writes for Daniel when she realizes her own life is in danger. It occupies the last third of the novel, revealing the truth about Carax, as well as truths of which Carax was unaware.

The reader notices the parallels between Julian Carax and Daniel. Both worked for fathers, with mothers dead or estranged. Lain Coubert, a character of Carax, haunts Daniel. Then there are the loves of Julian and Daniel, including Daniel’s trysts with Beatriz in the abandoned Aldaya mansion. Above all, there is the book, and Daniel’s quest to know its author.

It’s a plot that drew me in, along with the delightful and sometimes riotous relationship between Daniel and Fermin. One almost can visualize their Barcelona (and the book includes a walking tour of the real places). Zafón has been compared to the likes of Eco and Marquez. I actually preferred Zafón, whose writing involved more realism and less magic, One delights in the affection of Daniel’s father for his son, and the loyalty between Daniel and Fermin, who supplants his friendship with Tomas. The one plot element I wonder about was using Nuria Monfort’s letter to unravel the mystery of Carax. So much of the story is in that letter, which is a engrossing read, but one wonders if Zafón could not find another way to unravel the story through the investigations of Daniel and Fermin.

The novel doesn’t end with the letter bur I will refrain from saying much more except to say, what an ending, well worth the 450 pages that precede it!

Review: Why the Gospel?

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Why the Gospel?, Matthew W. Bates (Foreword by Scot McKnight). Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2023.

Summary: Instead of asking what the gospel is, explores why has God made this proclamation of good news, centering on the kingship of Jesus and what this means for those who place allegiance in him.

Matthew W. Bates has written several books contending that our idea of what it means to place faith in Christ are inadequate to the biblical meaning of faith, which he contends is allegiance, an unqualified allegiance to Jesus as King [I have reviewed Salvation by Allegiance Alone and Gospel Allegiance]. In this work Bates further elaborates on this idea.

He begins with an intriguing question. Why the gospel? He observes that there are many discussions of what the gospel is, indeed that this is what his previous books have addressed. What he believes we rarely consider is why the gospel and that when we do, our answers focus on things like forgiveness, getting us to heaven, freeing us from rules, improving society, reuniting us with God, and so on. He contends that these are not wrong, but not first. What is first is that we need a king and Jesus is the king we need and the king has come! We are lousy kings of our own lives and anything else to which we give our allegiance is no better. Jesus is the only worthy king, most notably in fulfilling prophecy, in the life he lived and the victory of the cross and resurrection, rescuing us from our bondage to sin and death.

Bates then proceeds to elaborate the purposes of God in sending Jesus to be our King. God wants to make us famous! The salvation that comes through Jesus the King comes with eternal glory (2 Timothy 2:10). It is not merely that God seeks his own glory through Jesus the King; He intends that we share in that glory, that we enjoy everlasting honor and fame. Over two chapters he describes a “glory cycle” beginning with God’s glory, humans given glory to rule over creation, our failure to carry that glory in the fall and human sinfulness, Jesus as the perfect image of intended human glory launches glory’s recovery, as we gaze on the glory of Christ, we are transformed, recovering our lost glory, and finally, we reign gloriously with King Jesus in the new creation.

His final two chapters work out the implications of these ideas, first for “nones” and then for our proclamation of the good news. He believes this “King first” gospel addresses the hypocrisy so repellant to “nones.” Allegiance to a king isn’t simply a matter of “trust” but allegiance involves both mind and body, not permitting us to profess one thing and living another in our bodies. For those objecting to politicized Christianity, this is not an apolitical message but rather one that is more political, asserting the rule of Jesus over all, yet one that is non-coercive, that suffers with and for the suffering, and seeks restoration. The King Jesus gospel calls people into authentic relationships of mutual discipleship and to a holistic vocation that sees Jesus’s calling in every human endeavor.

The implication for our proclamation is to “flip” the message. Instead of, for example:

“Because he offers forgiveness, Jesus is your Savior. Accept his salvation. Next he wants to be King of your life.“

Bates advocates:

“Jesus is the King. Accept his kingship, because through it, Jesus is offering you saving rescue, including the forgiveness of your sins.“

He offers a number of examples of invitations focusing on different aspects of the gospel, each with a “typical” and a “King first” focus.

I have not seen Bates address this, but the “king” language is triggering for some. In some minds, it represents an imperial, colonial age that is past. For others, it seems averse to democratic ideals. The male-gendered character of “king” also evokes patriarchy. Very clearly, the kingship of Jesus is different and the idea of a good king runs through so much literature, for example, The Lord of the Rings. Addressing the cultural resonances of the term would be helpful.

That said, I appreciate the focus on Jesus as King as the center, the why of our gospel, rather than simply the results of his kingly rule. Beyond that, Bates focuses on something far beyond our needs, that is our destiny to share in the glory of the King and to rule with Him. I suspect few Christians think about the idea that this is what they have been both made and redeemed for, nor for how this ought to infuse our vision of our daily lives on this good earth.

Lastly, I’ve long objected to the way we have often presented a “two stage” salvation, first Jesus as Savior and then Jesus as Lord or King. Bates frames this so well in observing that all the things we associate with salvation are the gifts of the King for those who turn from other allegiances to follow him alone.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Japanese Footbridge by Lake Glacier

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Japanese Footbridge across Calvary Run by Lake Glacier, Photo by Robert C. Trube, 2019. All rights reserved.

The Mill Creek MetroParks have numerous footbridges across creeks, ponds, and marshy areas, many constructed during the WPA years of the Depression, as well as a number more recently. One of my favorites is the little footbridge by the Lake Glacier Boat House spanning Calvary Run just short of where it flows into Lake Glacier. It is called “Japanese” in John Melnick’s The Green Cathedral (p. 105) and it is in the style of Japanese footbridges such as this one:

Photo by Ryutaro Tsukata on Pexels.com

I seem to recall that the Japanese footbridge by Lake Glacier was built when I was a small boy but I’ve not been able to track down the construction date. Growing up on the West side, my dad and I would often go for walks down to Lake Glacier, sometimes to go for a boat ride, or we would just stop and get some pop to drink. We would then cross the boat ramp walk across the bridge and up to West Glacier Drive.

I don’t know whether it is still the case but it was a popular place to take photos of wedding parties. At least it was in the late 1960’s when my brother got married (I’m in those pictures!). By the time we got married ten years later, Fellows Gardens, especially at the Glacier Overlook, was the popular place for wedding photos. In later years, we were at a wedding there and it seemed wedding parties were lined up for photos there, at the Gazebo, and other locations.

As I recall, the blue sky was reflecting on the lake on that late April day with all the greenery of spring just bursting forth. I can imagine what a gorgeous scene it would be in the fall when the trees across the lake are in full color. I also love this photo by Reva Evans Foy capturing the bridge and the Lake Glacier Boat House in winter:

Lake Glacier and Boat House in Winter, photo courtesy of Reva Evans Foy, used with permission.

This is just one of the many footbridges in the park. I love this one for its memories, and the exquisite simplicity of its construction that so fits in with and complements the natural beauty of the park. I think Volney Rogers would have liked it…

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: The Emotions of God

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The Emotions of God, David T. Lamb. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press. 2022.

Summary: A study of the emotional language used of God in scripture, considering seven emotions spoken of both in Old and New Testaments.

The title of this book caught my attention. God has emotions? Readings in systematic theology taught me that God was impassible, that God does not experience passions or emotions, pain or pleasure, in ways that would change the unchanging God. Part of the reason for this is that emotions, at least as humans experience them do reflect real changes in our state of being, vacillating between highs and lows, sometimes unpredictably. Yet as this work amply demonstrates, scripture in many places attributes emotion to God. And the author freely admits that he does not believe in an impassible God, but rather one who is “affected emotionally by the behavior of humans” (p. 6). He chooses not to engage the theological discussion but rather to examine the biblical material supporting the idea of God having “emotions.”

It should be noted that in making this assertion that Lamb considers emotions not only to be strong feelings, but they may involve actions, can be rational, may be controlled, and may be understood. He then proceeds to introduce the scope of his study, seven emotions, all of which are evident in connection with God in the Psalms: hate (5:5; 11:5 45:7;), anger (6:1; 30:5; 78:21), jealousy (78:58; 79:5), grief (78:40), delight or joy (18:20; 22:8; 35:27), mercy (25:6; 28:6; 103:4), love (5:7; 25:6; 136).

In each of the following chapters Lamb takes one of the seven, defines the term, identifies the different Hebrew and Greek words used in Old and New Testaments respectively associated with the emotion, and then considers a number of key texts and what they reveal about these emotions in reference to God. With hate for example, he discusses what it may have meant to say “Esau I hated” or Jesus reference to “hating mother and brother and sister,” the latter which he would propose meaning “loving less.” In scripture, much of God’s “hatred” is directed against evil, and reflects the obverse of his intense love for his good creation, deeply hating anything that mars it and his good purposes for it. God hates injustice and falsehood. He discusses ways in which we do not hate like God (for example, being inconvenienced), and that we ought hate the things God hates, that sometimes, these should make us furious. He recommends that we take this to prayer but that this will also mean resisting evil and injustice.

In similar ways, Lamb moves from definition and word study to key texts to application with each of the seven. I particularly enjoyed his discussion of what God takes joy or delight in, from the creatures of the deep to his people, each and all of us! His chapter on sorrow centers on the reality that God may be grieved, and that Jesus wept deeply for Lazarus. He distinguishes compassion, which is more episodic and empathic with love that is faithful and enduring. In the process, Lamb invites us into the redemption of these emotions in our lives: to hate what God hates, to be angry but not sin, to be jealous for God and the things of God, to grieve and lament with God the world’s deep brokenness, to revel in and join in God’s delight in his world and people, to show mercy and compassion, and to love steadily and faithfully and selflessly.

My only wish would be that Lamb had said something more about emotions and how God may be both responsive and unchanging. We believe God is both transcendent and immanent, infinite and yet personal, is spirit, and yet in the second person of the Trinity, for eternity to come the Incarnate Son. As we hold other truths in tension, is there a way in which we are also called to hold God’s unchanging nature and evident emotional response to his creatures in tension? To deny a belief in impassibility does not seem enough, nor is a denial of the emotional language attributed to God. Often, we cannot fully explain these truths in tension, yet it seems we must hold them in tension in mystery, wonder, and faith, hoping that one day we will know more fully, even as we are known.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: Photo Finish

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Photo Finish (Roderick Alleyn #31), Ngaio Marsh. New York: Felony & Mayhem, 2016 (originally published in 1980).

Summary: A New Zealand trip for Alleyn and Troy goes sideways when Isabella Sommita, a soprano and diva is murdered after she debuts a badly written opera composed by her latest love interest.

Troy has been invited to paint the portrait of famed soprano Isabella Sommita by her Aristotle Onassis-like friend, Montague Reece. It appears to have all the trappings of a romantic getaway for her and Alleyn. She has been invited to Reece’s Waihoe Lodge on a remote lake in New Zealand. Alleyn has been invited separately to “consult” on dealing with a particularly annoying member of the paparazzi, calling himself “Strix” who has managed to insinuate himself into a variety of situations where he has taken the most unflattering pictures of The Sommita. Alleyn is reluctant to go, given the penchant they have for getting mixed up in murder cases together. The deal is sealed however by his superior, who thinks he ought to go because of a vague international drug connection that The Sommita is rumored to have some association with.

The setting and the Lodge are as stunningly beautiful as Troy and Alleyn imagine. Marsh, a native New Zealander, describes the scene so vividly I could see it in my mind’s eye, and a storm section later in the book so palpably that I felt I was hearing the wind and rain pelt the Lodge. Reece has set up a well-appointed studio for Troy to use for the portrait and they are treated as guests of honor. But she will never make more than preliminary sketches.

Isabella Sommita, like many of the stage figures in Marsh’s books is full of herself, in this case the definition of diva. She is barely tolerated by her entourage, the maid Maria, her manager Ben Ruby, and the rest of the household staff including the very proper housekeeper Mrs. Bacon and the officious secretary of Mr. Reece, Ned Hanley. She has taken under her wing (and into her bed) Rupert Bartholomew, a young composer who has written a mediocre work just for her, The Alien Corn, with The Sommita playing the title role of the biblical role, complete with a climactic song that allows her to hit her famous high notes. They will debut the piece at the Waihoe Lodge with a cast of supporting singers, a music critic and Signor Beppo Lattienzo, with whom The Sommita had trained.

It’s thought that the remote location was safe from the increasingly hostile photographic intrusions of “Strix” but an incident during rehearsals, another photograph taken, suggests “Strix” is in their midst, yet he cannot be found. As the performance approaches, Rupert Bartholomew, who will conduct, begins to realize what a mess he is. He is awakening both to the poor quality of his composition and how he is in thrall to The Sommita. He tries to back out but neither Reece nor The Sommita will hear of it.

The guests arrive as a storm is setting in. The production comes off, with The Sommita giving her all to a very poor piece. As everyone is applauded, Bartholomew summons the courage to apologize for his shoddy work. The Sommita is infuriated and storms off to her bedroom while Rupert faints. When The Sommita doesn’t appear, Reece covers for her and asks Maria to take her a warm drink. A scream follows. The Sommita is lying spread-eagle on her bed–dead. A stiletto has been driven into her heart (post-mortem as it turns out) with a photograph taken earlier in the day pinned to her.

The storm has risen and most of the guests, save the performers and a few special guests have just gotten out in time. The rest are stuck there and the lake is so turbulent that the police cannot come. So Alleyn reluctantly takes charge and does his best to secure the crime scene and to collect evidence while it is fresh with the assistance of Dr Carmichael, even though he has no authority other than Mr. Reece’s permission.

Was it “Strix”? Or Rupert, who had a key to the bedroom as her lover? Or someone else in the household? And does a book Alleyn found in the Lodge library describing a vendetta between two New York crime families in which a young woman dies under similar circumstances have anything to do with the case? By the time the authorities arrive, Alleyn has figured out who “Strix” is and is ready, with Inspector Hazelmere to resolve the case.

I have to admit that having read a number of Marsh’s works, this felt a bit formulaic to me–a stage personality, a remote house party, a performance with the death of a lead, an extreme weather event leaving Alleyn in charge. Even so, the final denouement had some twists that caught me by surprise. And I have to admit that I have always enjoyed the New Zealand settings the best. This work was the next to last published in her life, two years before she died, showing her still quite competent in re-mixing the standard devices into an engaging story.

Review: The Trinity in the Book of Revelation

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The Trinity in the Book of Revelation (Studies in Christian Doctrine and Scripture), Brandon D. Smith (Foreword by Lewis Ayers). Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2022.

Summary: A Trinitarian reading of Revelation, drawing upon the insights of the pro-Nicene fathers to elucidate John’s vision both of the One God and the working of the Father, Son, and Spirit.

Discussions of Revelation often focus on the vivid imagery of the book trying to make some sense of its significance. Yet at the heart of John’s vision is the triune God acting as Father, Son, and Spirit in concert to bring about the final victory of the Lamb, the eradication of all forces of evil, and the heavenly city come down. It is this on which Brandon D. Smith focuses in this study of Revelation’s portrayal of the triune God.

His approach is to draw upon patristic resources and the pro-Nicene formulations articulating the doctrine of the Trinity to elucidate the theology of the Godhead revealed in John’s vision. Smith defends against the charge of eisegesis in arguing that the Trinitarian formulations best make sense of the unarticulated theology of the biblical text of Revelation, that they offer the best explanation of what we find in Revelation. One patristic approach that particularly frames Smith’s study is that of redoublement, the idea that we must speak of God “twice over,” first considering what the persons have in common (the divine nature) and what distinguishes them (processions or missions).

After establishing this approach, the following three chapters consider Father, Son, and Spirit. The first part of each chapter considers the pro-Nicene material and then the latter part the key texts pertaining to the member of the Godhead. Smith highlights the Father as fountainhead of the divine nature who gives revelation to Jesus, shares the throne with Jesus, and the Spirit, and receives their mediatorial work. We see the Son receiving worship, carrying out divine prerogatives, and claiming divine titles. Perhaps most interesting is the material on the Holy Spirit, focusing on the “seven spirits.” who he makes the case for being a reference not to angels but to the Holy Spirit, noting the facing of the spirits outward from the throne and joined with Father and Son in receiving worship. Drawing on patristics, we see emerging in John the triune God, one in nature, sharing in the worship of all those in the heavenly throne room, both acting singularly and indivisibly as one being and yet distinctively as three persons.

The writer concludes by arguing that this patristic-biblical reading of Revelation centered on the triune God challenges our modern readings of Revelation often devoid of a high Christology or binatarian in nature. Furthermore, he gestures toward the ways in which such a reading is of benefit to the church in reinforcing our confession of faith, in undergirding our existence as the church gathered in Christ, pardoned by the Father and united by the Spirit, by how it points us toward the one who “was, is, and is coming” and by recognizing the Trinity at the center of our reading of all of scripture.

Not only does Smith offer an interesting approach to reading Revelation, he centers our focus where I think it should be, not on the signs, but rather the triune God who gave John this vision, and who is at work through all that John sees to accomplish God’s purposes. Smith doesn’t offer a prophetic scheme or a timeline, but calls our attention to the glory of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and the glorious kingdom that is the destiny of the multitudes surrounding the throne, worshipping with the help of the Spirit the Lamb who is seated with the Father on the throne.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: The Apostle and the Empire

/ rtrube54 / 2 Comments

The Apostle and the Empire, Christoph Heilig (foreword by John M. G. Barclay). Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2022.

Summary: Focusing on 2 Corinthians 2:14, Heilig argues for an alternative to either hidden or unexpressed criticism of the empire in Paul’s writings, proposing that we might also consider texts that have been overlooked.

Until N. T. Wright, most commentators on the Pauline works considered Paul to be silent on or even supportive of the Roman empire. Wright changed that with an article in 2000, “Paul’s Gospel and Caesar’s Empire,” proposing that subtexts could be found in Paul’s writing of an anti-imperial nature, referred to as hidden subtexts. John M. G. Barclay responded with a critique outlining five necessary conditions that would need to be met to accept Wright’s hypothesis that Wright answered in a chapter of Paul and the Faithfulness of God in 2013. A more recent paper by Laura Robinson questions the “hidden subtext” idea proposing that they are not hidden but just are not there, and that the concerns evoked by Wright about surveillance by the empire were unwarranted.

In this work, Heilig seeks to move the discussion to a new place. In addition to challenging Robinson’s assessment of the dangers Christians faced, invoking for example, the Pliny-Trajan correspondence, and the troubles Paul actually found himself in, he proposes the idea that Paul’s criticism is not so much hidden as perhaps, at least in some passages, overlooked. After mentioning passages like 1 Corinthians 2:6 and 1 Thessalonians 3:3, he focuses much of this monograph on 2 Corinthians 2:14:

But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere.

2 Corinthians 2:14, NIV.

A significant part of Heilig’s argument, overlooked in most commentaries, is the contemporary context of the victory procession of Claudius in 44 AD, celebrating his victory over Britannia. The Corinthians actually had an emperor cult that celebrated this victory. References to a triumphal procession would readily evoke this event in the minds of the Corinthians, not simply a general military practice. He explores the challenge to empire implicit in the reference God leading this procession, spreading the knowledge of the victory of Christ. Heilig argues that this, at very least expresses a sense of “unease” with the empire. He also suggests that this may be found even in the “clearest” of the passages on the empire, Romans 13:1-7, although I am surprised the author does not explore the standards for the just exercise of power implied in these passages, that is an implicit judgment against the much more arbitrary exercise of “the sword” in actuality.

In the last chapter before the conclusion, he decries the woeful state of access to the most current scholarship on context for biblical commentators, illustrated by the “overlooked” material on Claudius. I felt that, while this may be valid, I would have been more greatly helped by a discussion of further research along the lines of this work, and at least a preliminary overview of other passages where he thought criticism may have been overlooked rather than hidden.

That said, I do think this proposal offers new ground for work on Paul’s unease with empire and the realities faced by early Christians navigating Roman society, one that recognizes both Paul’s courage and discretion.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.