CRISPR/CAS9 and Editing the Human Genome: Moving Beyond the Text to Engage in Theological Discourse

So, it's been about a year since I've posted to the blog, but I wanted to fire things up here again in light of something that I think is really interesting and important. It's an issue that's gonna define a lot of medical research and technology moving forward. Moreover, it's a discussion that wants to put the theological perspective in the middle of the fray.

It's also been posted on the Free Methodist denominational website, here.
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On July 29, National Public Radio (NPR) published a story about Victoria Gray’s battle with Sickle Cell Disease (SCD).[1] SCD refers to genetic blood disorders that affects a patient’s red-blood cells. Instead of the normal, squishy, round red-blood cells, which move effectively through the patient’s blood vessels, the red-blood cells are hard, sticky, and sometimes in the shape of a sickle. Most importantly, the mutated red-blood cells pool at certain junctures in the blood stream and cause an incredible amount of pain. In serious cases, the pain is incapacitating, and SCD has been linked to infections, strokes, and other life-threating events. In developed countries, patients with SCD often don’t live much past 40. In developing countries, patients can’t live more than a handful of years.

What makes Ms. Gray’s story so unique is that a major element of her treatment involves a DNA editing process called CRISPR/CAS9. CRISPR stands for Cluster Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats, and CAS9 is the cutting enzyme necessary for the editing process to work. I know, all this sounds intimidating, and in many ways it is. However, bear with me as I try to do it justice.

The process begins with the human genome, that is a human’s genetic code. Scientists and doctors have long known that genetic defeats are caused by mutations in the human genome. However, only recently has a process been developed that can “fix” these mutations. First, doctors identify the part of the genetic code that is causing the problem. Then, doctors construct a molecule, called Guide RNA (gRNA), whose function is to proceed to the target cells so that the problematic genetic sequence can be “cut open.” This cutting is performed by the enzyme CAS9, and once this happens the problematic DNA sequence is either replaced or edited to reflect the proper sequence. This entire process has been described as a “genetic cut and paste system.” 

To be clear, there are other documented cases of medical treatments involving CRISPR. Examples include a European treatment for beta thalassemia, another genetic blood disorder that involves an inability to produce the proper amount of hemoglobin. CRISPR is also beginning to be used on cancer patients and subjects with inherited blindness. Then there was the controversial case of the Chinese doctor who used CRISPR on embryos to ensure that two twins would be born with a resistance to AIDS. In all cases, CRISPR is being trumpeted as a technology that can potentially rid the world of its most terrible diseases. Painful diseases. Diseases that erode the quality of life to the point where people may opt for death. And all this makes sense! If we know the DNA sequence and the errors to that sequence that cause any of these diseases, and if a fix is a known process away, then isn’t it our moral prerogative to develop and use technologies that could fix the problems?

But let’s be clear. CRISPR is altering the genetic code with which people have been born or will be born.

Let that sink in.

I have been having the CRISPR conversation off and on for some time now. My brother-in-law, Dr. Ben Brammell, has made a career teaching biology to university students, and his research involves genetics. In his mind, it’s our moral obligation to responsibly develop and utilize technologies like CRISPR to fight some of humanity’s most dreaded disorders. He also wonders if there be a time when it’s immoral to not use such technologies. My roommate from college, Dr. Kyle Anderson is a dermatologist, and he agrees. He confessed to me that when one sees the effects of certain genetic disorders your perspective is forever altered.

But where’s the line? Again, CRISPR is altering one’s genetic code. At what point does a noble effort become something else?

I think the conversation can get some traction by making a distinction between healing and enhancement. Kyle suggested this, and while it’s a bit hard to define, I think it’s a promising starting point. Are we altering one’s genetic code to heal them from a known disorder that is undermining that person’s quality of life? Or, are we altering the code merely to enhance normal capabilities or qualities? Nevertheless, in the case of the former question, how do you define “quality of life”? And what exactly are “normal capabilities or qualities”? It’s potentially maddening, and the details need to be worked out. However, humanity, who has fallen so far from the intentions of creation, will undoubtedly push the envelope. There will be those who will lack any moral compass and seek unfettered usage for gene editing technologies. Yet the technology is upon us, and so the Church must develop a coherent response. It must respond to a contemporary issue that goes well beyond the plain sense of Scripture.

Historically, Christians have been deeply involved in cutting edge scientific research. From Isaac Newton, to Robert Boyle, to Stephen Hales, to William Dallinger, to George Washington Carver, and many more, many self-professing Christians have synthesized their scientific endeavors with the pursuit of knowing God. More recently, and perhaps most famously, Francis Collins, the current head of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), has offered a systematic account of how his work with the human genome has deepened his faith in ways that he could not have predicted.[2] And specific to the discussion of CRISPR, Collins has been involved with a study on Type 2 Diabetes in Africa that has utilized CRISPR in their research.[3] In one statement reflecting upon the diabetes study he is receptive to the role CRISPR is playing, but Collins has also sternly rebuked the Chinese doctor who used the CRISPR technology to edit the embryos of a set of Chinese twins—calling it deeply concerning and irresponsible.[4] For Collins, then, CRISPR is something that can be wielded positively or negatively.

So, it seems that my roommate Kyle is in tune with the larger medical community when he suggested that we should be ready from some “tight regulations.” But what’s potentially fascinating is the role that ethicists will play in shaping the debate and the regulations that will follow. Remember the NPR story I mentioned above? At one point, it quotes Dr. Laurie Zoloth. She is a bioethicist who has two degrees from Graduate Theological Union (Berkley, CA) and a background in religious studies. In other words, theology and religion have a role, and will continue to have a role, in this discussion.

The hardest part of this conversation, particularly for our tradition, will be the realization that engaging it requires movement beyond the plain sense of the biblical text. Simply, the ethics of modern scientific research require a cognitive framework that would have been inconceivable to the original authors. Genes, enzymes, genetic mutations—all of it—would have been completely foreign to the original authors of Scripture. Consequently, we must construct paradigms rooted in the text of Scripture but malleable enough to address specific developments well beyond Scripture’s ancient frame of reference. Indeed, Jeremiah recounts the Lord knew him before birth (Jer 1:5). However, this is a statement on Jeremiah’s election as a prophet, not his genetic code. The Psalmist does declare in Ps 139:13–14 that he was made by the Creator with a reverent intentionality. However, these statements are in the context of a song that praises God for his omniscience and omnipotence. Again, it’s not a specific comment on humanity’s genetics.

Perhaps, then, elements of the Wisdom and Prophetic corpora offer potential insight. Job, the author of Ecclesiastes, and Habakkuk (as examples) push God to reveal his intentions surrounding their experiences. Does this push for insight have anything to say about how we can push for insight regarding all facets of the human experience? How do the general moral imperatives to tend to the disenfranchised and vulnerable mentioned throughout Scripture implore us to pursue the betterment of life and deal with diseases that have a high mortality rate among the young and elderly? Do the Church Fathers, who used Scripture to comment on many experiences beyond the purview of the original authors, provide any insight on how to go beyond the plain sense of Scripture? Hopefully you get my point.

I suspect that answers to the questions of the CRISPR debate will not come from any proof text, but rather from passages off the beaten path and resources not normally consulted. Answers will come from the essence of Scripture’s Canonical message and the worldview that’s derived from it. But if we can find these answers, we will demonstrate what intelligent, biblically grounded discourse looks like and potentially shape a critical debate moving forward.

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[1] https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2019/07/29/744826505/sickle-cell-patient-reveals-why-she-is-volunteering-for-landmark-gene-editing-st.

[2] Francis S. Collins. The Language of God (New York: Free Press, 2006).

[3] For Collins’ reflections, https://directorsblog.nih.gov/tag/diabetes/. For the study, https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-019-10967-7.

[4] https://www.nih.gov/about-nih/who-we-are/nih-director/statements/statement-claim-first-gene-edited-babies-chinese-researcher.

When the Resident Expert Fails

Recently, my father retired after 36 years of full-time ministry, and I have been asking him a series of questions designed to get him thinking about his tenure in the United Methodist Church. One of the things that he said in the process of this discussion was that a pastor needs to realize that he or she will be looked upon as the resident expert for the congregation on issues of theology, biblical studies, and everything else that stems from them. In other words, the pastor enjoys a great privilege and responsibility—effectively explaining the Bible and telling the congregation why it matters.

Andy Stanley stirred up a hornet’s nest earlier this year with a sermon on Acts 15. In that sermon, he sought to explain the relationship between the Old and New Testaments, among other things. However, in doing so, he said some things that many people described as heretical. On October 19, Stanley published a short article in Christianity Today that revisited many of those controversial claims. So, let's look at them for just a second. Admittedly, they are not as inflammatory, but they are still really frustrating.  

Presented as a response to Robert Foster’s review of his book Irresistible, Stanley spends most of his time responding to one of three points raised by Foster, namely that the Old Testament can provide a foundation for Christian moral conduct. According to Stanley, Christian can “take cues from the New Testament writers” on how to use the Old Testament. We just shouldn't conclude that the “Old Testament law directly applies to Christians today” (emphasis mine). For example, Stanley questions if we should stone rebellious children or prohibit interracial marriage.

So, based on this, it seems that when Stanley uses the descriptor “directly” he means an exact parallel of application, as if a set of legal traditions developed in an ancient Near Eastern culture over 3500 years can simplistically be dropped into a 21^st century American context. This seems to be something of a straw-man as very few people would argue such a scenario. Nevertheless, his rationale for pushing back against Foster is stated as follows. “The old covenant has been fulfilled and ended and a new and better way of relating to God is now available to us.”

Stanley then teases out this further by discussing the three-fold division of the Old Testament law. According to Stanley, the ceremonial laws ended with the death of Jesus, and the civil laws are no longer to be enforced as they were originally given to the nation of ancient Israel. When it comes to the moral laws, they “have not changed, they have transformed into something new. They are reset upon a new and better foundation, Jesus Christ.”

I don’t like the three-fold division invoked in many circles when it comes to the Old Testament law. Indeed, such a division goes back to the Medieval Ages, at least to Thomas Aquinas, and there is evidence that some of the Early Church Fathers spoke of "divisions" or "categories" within the law. So, there is precedent for Stanley's position. 

However, such "divisions" or "categories," or whatever you want to call them, are foreign to the way the ancient Israelites would have perceived the Old Testament law. For example, if we were to discuss the Old Testament law with an ancient Israelite priest and ask them for their opinions about the civil, ceremonial, and moral laws, they would likely develop a squirrely look on their faces and say something like, "Divisions? We have Torah...just Torah." This means that such a three-fold division requires that we simplify a very complex concept in a way that may be heuristically helpful but is a foreign concept and eventually misses the mark. And I would go a step further and say it ultimately does more harm than good. 

But what is most problematic about Stanley’s comments is the subordination of the Old Testament to the New Testament. Consider this quote. “We need to stop mixing the old with the new, because God has given us something better in Jesus Christ and his new command” (emphasis mine). The reality is that any subordination of the Old Testament under the New Testament is extremely problematic as it paves the way for heretical notions. Instead, as Brent Strawn has argued, the Church needs to talk about the “bothness” of Scripture (The Old Testament is Dying [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017]. It’s both the Old and New Testaments, with no subordination--period! Stanley misses this.  

I want to give Stanley the benefit of the doubt. I really do! But he makes it really hard. He says that he’s committed to the authority of the Old Testament while also making it fairly obvious that he doesn't believe that it’s on the same level as the New Testament. For example, consider one of his closing statements from this short article. “So, while I believe there is much to learn from studying and preaching on the Old Testament, we must now take our cue from the promises fulfilled in Jesus—the new.” 

Come on!

Stanley is saying things in which some of the great heresies of Christianity are rooted! And it’s this reality that really frustrates me. As the “resident expert” for his congregation in matters of theology and the Bible, he should know the problems with how he’s articulating things. But of course, here's the irony in all this. Stanley prides himself on his ability to clearly communicate the Gospel. Unfortunately, with every statement on this issue, at least in recent memory, he’s creating a clearer path that contributes to the death of the Old Testament.

The Complexity of Biblical Scholarship

As I write this, I am sitting on a plane coming home from our annual society meetings. Every year, the Society of Biblical Literature and the American Academy of Religion join forces to host a lengthy weekend of scholarship, networking, and collaboration. Smaller societies often attach themselves to the AAR and SBL, making the event a full-scale Bible-con [Really, the only thing missing are costumes…even though some of the outfits and beards I saw had to have been close to Iron Age and Greco-Roman fashion trends.].

The experience of this weekend is, well, complicated. On the one hand, I believe it’s necessary. Any professor of Bible needs to attend the annual meetings. It’s a place where professors can speak “nerd” unencumbered by the exaggerated eye-rolls of their kids , spouses, or students for a few days. At these conferences, professors can scratch their itch for scholarship, and for some, this may be one of the few instances where they can relive the joys of intense Bible study. Most importantly, these annual meetings allow professors to see what is coming down the pike.

At the annual meetings, we are exposed to the trends that sit on the horizon, for better or worse. For example, biblical scholars, archaeologists, and historians will continue to flesh out how our understanding of the Philistines is changing in light of recent archaeological research. Whence did they come? What were the dynamics of the five Philistine cities throughout the Iron Ages? In another session, I heard how perceptions of Deuteronomy 1-3 are changing, and these apparently have great implications on how we understand the form and function of certain sections of Scripture. In this instance, the paradigm shift that has been building is now accelerating.

On the other hand, there is a palpable sense of egotism and disconnection associated with the conference. For instance, in one session I sat in a large ballroom listening to several world-renowned scholars discuss elements of Deuteronomy’s historical development as a text. Is there an identifiable “core” whence the final form came? If so, can we date it, and what did it look like? Don't get me wrong, I love these questions! I think that they can give us insight into the nature of God’s revelation through time. However, such questions can never be an end in themselves. We must frame such discussions in terms of how they illuminate the final form of the text.

So, in the example of finding a “core” of Deuteronomy, at some point we must explicitly ask how any “core” can illuminate our understanding of Deuteronomy as it now exists in our Old Testament. Indeed, the answers are hard to anticipate and susceptible to a predictable line of questioning. Nevertheless, because God’s word is the product of a lengthy period of development that spanned centuries, cultures, languages, and environments, critical endeavors have their place. The disconnection of scholarship becomes evident when the discussion abruptly stops with the reconstruction of the historical process. Unfortunately, none of these famous scholars attempted to discuss how their proposals illuminated the final form of Scripture.

Yet I came to acknowledge the egotism and disconnection of the conference on Sunday (late) morning when I took about an hour to slowly peruse the exhibit hall and look at all the books for sale (Ginny should be happy that I resisted the temptation to buy loads of Christmas presents for myself). As I walked through the hall, I noticed countless people emphatically pitching their ideas to acquisition editors and publishers. Moreover, there was the constant networking and angling. But I don’t wrinkle my nose at this. This is the system. It’s a system of too many Ph.Ds. with not enough jobs. It’s a vocation that is very much about ideas and the communication of those ideas. But where the line is crossed, at least in my mind, is when the dissemination and development of ideas fosters an egotism that leads to pretentiousness. “That person’s ideas are so outdated. Besides, mere exegesis is unsophisticated. We must have ideological criticisms coupled with interdisciplinary approaches.” Unfortunately, I saw a lot of this too....

As I ponder these thoughts and feelings, I cannot help but think of the call that Brent Strawn has recently given to scholars. In The Old Testament is Dying (Baker, 2017), he argues that there is an increasing level of illiteracy with respect to the Old Testament (as well as Scripture in general). In short, there is an increasing number of people within the American church that don’t know what’s in the Old Testament (and Scripture for that matter) and that don’t use the Old Testament (and Scripture) regularly or properly. This is leading to the death of the Old Testament (and Scripture), and this trend is observable from the lay people all the way to the ministers and preachers.

Nevertheless, the church’s academic institutions are not helping! Strawn laments the increase in specialized scholarship that has no appeal or relevance to the Average Joe or Jane in the pew. There were multiple occasions this past weekend where I thought, “What is the use of this garbage?!”

I teach at Christian institutions, both seminaries and Christian colleges/universities. Therefore, I have to remember that my efforts are to be driven by convictions that go beyond myself. I fill a vital role within the Kingdom of God. I have the facility, time, and energy to dig deep into the wonders of Scripture and theology. However, I have to remember that I exercise my skills in a context that transcends my ego, my desires, or even my interests. I serve a global movement that spans cultures, time, and space.

If my time at the 2017 annual meetings has done anything, it’s reinforced my conviction that my vocational pursuits must ultimately be for the edification of the Church. Indeed, there is a place for intense scholarship, for there are too many critical questions leveled at the Church to ignore it. However, critical scholarship carries with it a certain set of assumptions and goals. Quite frankly, those assumptions and goals often do not communicate well with the average person sitting in the pews on in the chairs of my classroom. Thus, my task is, and will remain, distilling down the worthy trends and results of intense research in a manner that empowers and informs the Church. For the more informed the Church is, the more boldly it can display its banner and impact the world.

Our Public Shaming on the Way to Death

In The Old Testament is Dying, Strawn makes extensive use of the analogy that the Old Testament is (like) a language. This eventually requires him to talk about language change and even language death. And this is important, because language death is rarely abrupt. Rather, the death of a language is more nuanced, drown out, and complicated. As for the most critical juncture in the process, it’s “when a generation of speakers stops communicating its language on a regular basis to its children” (p. 69).

Sound familiar?

Yet, for the moment I want to focus on the process of death. Namely, I want to focus on what happens to a language as it dies. According to Strawn, a dying language goes through something called repidginization, where said language is massively and abruptly simplified and reduced. It aggressively retracts and loses all notion of sophistication and complexity (pp. 69–70), and the result is something called a pidgin. During this process, a language is on life-support, used only when absolutely necessary and only for as long as necessary. Eventually, there comes a moment when a language is completely ignored and disregarded. At that moment, a language dies.

Nevertheless, repidginization does not have to result in death. The process could lead into another process called creolization. Creolization describes how a pidgin (a severely retracted and dying language) actually becomes a new language. When this happens, the new language takes on the growth cycles of languages, including expansion and initial moments of intense irregularity (pp. 64–65). Perhaps most importantly, a creole need not display very many, if any at all, vestiges of its historical roots. In other words, the process of creolization could be such that any relationship between the original language and its descendant is only revealed by knowledge of the historical process.

Applied to the Old Testament, the data suggests, as detailed extensively by Strawn, that repidginization is upon us. You don’t have to look far to see popular theologies built upon unsophisticated or erroneous ideas of the Old Testament. There are those of the so-called Prosperity Gospel and what I call “life-coaches-posing-as-preachers” (what Strawn calls “Happiologists”—i.e. Joel Olsteen and company). And I don’t have to mention the general lack of use of the Old Testament by preachers. Yet the criticality of the situation is perhaps most clear when one realizes that certain attacks on the faith are actually zeroing in on Old Testament pidgins and not the real language.

In chapter 4, Strawn interacts with the so-called New Atheists, a flamboyant group of educated enemies of Christianity. Their goal seems to be fairly simple—highlight the ostensible ludicrousness and incoherence of the faith to the point that any Christian is assumed to be a moron. What becomes clear, however, is that Dawkins and company assumes an understanding of and interaction with the Old Testament message that does not properly represent the whole. In keeping with the linguistic analogy, Dawkins targets pidgins of the Old Testament and not the language proper.

What I am trying to say is that the death of the Old Testament is not merely an internal phenomenon. Indeed, it started as in internal issue, but it has now metathesized and opened up the community to external attacks as well. In other words, the death of the Old Testament is now more than just the Church forgetting a critical part of its message. The death of the Old Testament is also now about the public shaming on the way to death. The death of the Old Testament comes with a propaganda video designed to highlight fundamental errors and hypocrisies. Thus, our responsibility in reviving the Old Testament must also be about preserving the coherence of our message so that we can respond to those who seek to trivialize our message for purposes of disingenuous attacks.

But make no mistake. Bringing the Old Testament back from the dead is no magic formula. It will not automatically provide answers to all of life’s questions and enigmas and dissolve all attacks from malicious skeptics. What it will do is revive a Canon necessary for formulating proper answers and responses. It will not render critical theological discourse pointless, but it will make it possible and fruitful. Moreover, it will demonstrate that the effectiveness of any apologetic scheme is directly related to a literacy in the totality of Scripture.

The Old Testament is Dying: Blame the System

Here is a stinging quote from Strawn:

“If individual believers’ knowledge is suffering, if they can’t speak the language, then at least part of the blame must be laid at the door of the religious systems (and their leaders) to which they belong and to which they adhere (even if only loosely, which is, of course, part of the problem). To be more direct, the failures in religious knowledge reported in the [U.S. Religious Knowledge Survey] appear to reflect massive failures in the religious system(s) in question, especially the education arm(s) of said system(s), and the leaders responsible for those systems and that education. For Protestant Christianity, that means not only the failure of “Sunday school” or “Bible study” phenomena (whether for children or adults), but also the failure of the sermon to be an effective tool in disseminating the language that is the Christian faith, not to mention other failures to provide adequate linguistic instruction in the Bible’s—and, more specifically still, the Old Testament’s—contribution to that faith” (The Old Testament is Dying, 27).

In The Old Testament is Dying, Strawn invokes an analogy. The Old Testament is a language. Just as language can describe the world, construct a worldview, and articulate reality, so too can the Old Testament (Scripture as a whole for that matter). Yet just as a language can suffer and die, so too can the Old Testament (as well as Scripture). To prevent the death of a language, it must be used…used often…and used properly. So too for the Old Testament and Scripture. But what happens when the data tells us that a language is suffering? What happens when the data informs us that people no longer use it properly, can handle it, or use only small portions of a language? Logic would tell us that said language is on its way out the door. Or, at the very least, it’s on its way to be being so transformed that it’ll no longer be identifiable.

According to the United States Religious Knowledge Survey, which is discussed extensively by Strawn in his second chapter, this is what’s happening to the Old Testament and Scripture. For example, only 55% of people surveyed know that the Golden Rule is NOT one of the Ten Commandments. Or, only 45% know the names of the four gospels. Perhaps most strikingly, only 16% know that the critical difference between Protestant and Catholic views on the conviction that salvation hinges on faith in Jesus Christ alone (Strawn, 23). Indeed, some of the people in the survey make no claims to be Christian, but what if I told you that the raw data of those who claim to be Christian shows a higher level of error than Jews, Mormons, and atheist/agnostics? To put it bluntly, a vast number of people surveyed who claim to be Protestant Christians know little more than jack-squat.

So, to revisit the linguistic analogy again, “The vast majority of people surveyed are adherents who, presumably and by their own profession, “speak the language of faith,” but who are actually missing huge portions of the most basic vocabulary, syntax, and so forth of their (putative) religious tongue” (Strawn, 26). Thus, we must acknolwedge that we are the farthest thing from being fluent. And if we are not fluent, then the danger of losing the language lurks just around the corner.

Consider an example from my OT 100 class. I ask my students to watch a couple brief videos about the prophetic institution in addition to reading basic material from our textbooks. In turn, I ask them to share some new ideas and revelations about the institution that they have gleaned from the course material. Without exception, there are comments such as, “Well, I just thought the prophets were concerned with predicting the future.” Or, “I didn’t know that some of the prophets were not ‘prophets’ by vocation.” Then there is, “I just thought the prophets spoke to their context.” Translation: there are massive gaps in our students’ understanding of one of the foundational institutions of the Old Testament.

Sadly, all of this makes sense. Strawn goes on to share more data that exemplifies how the Old Testament is used. First, sermons that are “OT-only” sermons are dwarfed by their counterparts, “NT-only” sermons, by approximately 2.5 times. In fact, “OT-only” sermons are surpassed by “no-text” sermons! Second, the Psalter is used with prejudice, and the lectionaries are similarly prejudicial in the OT content they employ. All of this adds up to a scenario where using the Old Testament is highly selective, if at all. The result is, at best, a skewed view of the Old Testament. Again, how can we even begin to call ourselves fluent?

So, in closing let's return to the beginning. We are suffering the results of a flawed system. If Strawn's data is true, and there is really little reason to doubt the essence of what it communicates, then our youngest generations are doomed from the start. We don't give them a steady dose of the Old Testament, and if we do we are giving it to them at our own convenience. Naturally, then, the question that arises is what can we do about this flawed system. Can anything be done? Can it be redeemed? Or, are we merely just going to flounder in our illiteracy until the moment when the language goes the way of ancient Sumerian?  

The Old Testament is Dying...

I am starting to wade through one of Brent Strawn's most recent works, The Old Testament is Dying. I say "one" of his most recent works because this guy must have a team of robots...or monkeys...that help him pump out publications. He also just put out The World Around the Old Testament (with Bill Arnold), and it seems like every time I turn around he is publishing some article or editing some volume.

Nevertheless, I digress.

Strawn is a Professor of Old Testament at Chandler School of Theology (Emory University), a flagship school of theology in the southeast and a darling of the United Methodist Church. He also serves the Church through speaking and what-not. Consequently, when he puts out such a provocative title, I am bound to notice....and take his word under consideration.

So, off the cuff, is the Old Testament dying? To open, Strawn shares a story that solidified his conclusion. While speaking to a group of "saints" at a local church somewhere around Atlanta, he was astonished that his audience did not know that the famous words Jesus uttered on the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me" (quick, can you recite it in Aramaic...or Hebrew?!), were actually a quotation from the Old Testament. I can't say that I am surprised by this. I grew up in the church, even the United Methodist Church, and the level of biblical illiteracy is more striking by the day. Moreover, I don't see it changing if the status quo remains.

I teach a range of students at a number of institutions devoted to theological education. Every semester it seems that there is an increase of comments such as these.

"I don't really know too much about the Old Testament, but at least I am excited to learn!"

"I really like the psalms because they seem to give me just the right word whenever I need to hear it. But I don't like the historical books. They seem so....historical."

Or think of it this way. When is the last time that you heard a sermon preached that utilized an Old Testament passage as its primary text?

I do remember one time that my father decided to preach a series of sermons on the book of Genesis. One week led to a month, and a month led to multiple months. About a year later, he was still preaching from Genesis, although he would take a break periodically to address special Sundays. This likely was my dad's least popular sermon series. But never mind that it's the foundation of Scripture. Never mind that the cosmic problem that still plagues humanity--that thing called Sin--is introduced there with dramatic detail. Never mind that the cosmic solution to that problem is also introduced in Genesis. And never mind that in articulating that cosmic solution the doorway to Christ is opened. Never mind all of that. "Just give me Jesus...and maybe some Paul..."

So, yeah. I think that the Old Testament is dying. But is it dead? Gosh...I hope not!! Yet more importantly, I still believe that it's possible to reverse the trend. However, bucking trends are never easy. It takes commitment, patience, and a "bull by the horns" mentality.

So, pastors preach from the Old Testament! If you don't know how to handle it, find some guidance! Whether it's a professor near by, a book to guide you, or more formal education, it doesn't matter really. Remember, it's Scripture. And when I say preach from it, don't just use it as a "footnote," merely to support some point. Develop sermon series from an event recollected, a book found therein, or a theme rooted there. Professors, let's make it exciting and fun! Let the Old Testament personalities shine through our boring lectures and assignments. Let's show our students that its content is just as potent today as it was when it was written millennia ago. Above all, let's not back down from what makes it so difficult to handle.

I'm sure that Strawn will have other things to say. However, I do know, based on the sub-title alone, he too believes that there is a treatment to this death spiral.

Today is the day...

It’s graduation season. As such, people all over the United States will flock to countless academic institutions to celebrate the achievements of their loved ones. One of the more memorable elements of any graduation ceremony, at least in higher education, is the processional of the professors. This is where all the professors line up behind a grand marshal and march into the room to take their place near the graduating students. What makes this processional so intriguing is the eclectic mix of academic regalia. There are so many colors and styles to the robes worn by the professors, and to be honest, these outfits are kind of a big deal. However, there is a level of irony that gravitates around these academic outfits. Save for convocations, graduations, and other “official" academic celebrations, one's regalia normally just hangs in the professor’s office essentially as decoration piece.

Yet one’s academic regalia is also something of a proclamation. By means of its design and color scheme, these outfits identify the professor with their ultimate level of education and the institution from which they graduated. So, when a professor puts on their regalia, it becomes a statement of their academic history and heritage. By implication, these statements are also something of a status symbol.

“Look at Prof. So-and-so. They graduated from Harvard…those are Harvard’s colors.”

When I defended my dissertation in 2012, I received my academic regalia as a gift from my parents. They spent way too much money on it, but they were happy to make the purchase. In their minds, it was money well spent, for it symbolized the culmination of their son’s 25 years of formal education. I am grateful for their gift. However, I must confess that for five years now it was been a bit of a sore spot for me…a source of frustration every time I saw that black plastic garment bag hanging in the closet.

After graduation, I gathered with my professors and fellow graduates for a picture (almost 5 years ago to date). As this unfolded, I distinctly remember one of my professors looking at me and saying, “You are going to get a lot of use out of this.” In response, I said nothing. Why? Because I didn’t believe him. There was no job other than the one waiting for me in the private sector selling industrial bearings. The whole pomp and circumstance was somewhat demoralizing.

So, after graduation I packed up that expensive robe set and hung it in the corner of a closet, as far out of sight as possible. I didn’t want to look at it. It symbolized my greatest frustration—years of theological education in the pursuit of a calling and passion that I knew was real…but had very little to show for it.

Since that day in May 2012 I have opened up that closet for a number of reasons, and each time I have felt those emotions of frustration rise. Childish? Perhaps. But the thought of that garb hanging in the closet has kept me grounded and focused on a field that is getting more difficult to penetrate by the day.

But today is the day that I take out that regalia and say, “Hello," because today is the day that I signed my first official, real contract. So, I celebrate my appointment as Assistant Professor of Old Testament for Wesley Biblical Seminary.

I am extremely grateful for this opportunity. This school, based in Jackson, MS, aligns with my theological heritage, and it will offer me a more official, somewhat permanent context to do what I love—study Scripture and teach the Old Testament. Most importantly, this is an opportunity to live out a calling first detected my Freshman year of College. It has been a challenging journey at times, but God is faithful.

Now, I have a chapter to write on the Gilgamesh Epic....