This week’s OT readings feature Isaac, to whom God renews the covenant (Gen 26:4-6) and to whom Rebekah is given in marriage. We are also introduced to Jacob, the deceiver, who steals his brother Esau’s birthright and blessing, meets God at Bethel (Gen 28), flees from his brother and family and lives with his deceitful uncle, Laban, for whom he works for fourteen years in exchange for the promise of marrying his daughters.
In the New Testament readings, we have the dramatic conversion (or calling, as I argue here) of Saul (later named Paul) on the Road to Damascus. Reading the narrative this year, I was primed by Richard Bauckham’s work on the divine name to notice the significance of the Name of Jesus in Acts 9:1-22. Christians call on the Name, and Paul is to proclaim the name and suffer for the name. Paul’s life hinges on the realisation that the one God of Israel, who reveals himself as I will be who I will be (Ex 3), has shared this Name with his Son, Jesus (see also John 13:19 from this week). The two questions below concern the issue of Abraham’s works (a question that came up last week) and Jesus’s relationship to judgment in John’s gospel. A major theme comes through in the questions and the final reflection: that trust and love are both closely related to, and evidenced by, action and obedience. A full list of questions, as always, appears at the end.
I grew up listening to Rich Mullins through my Dad, right around the time of Rich’s death. I’m not sure what album he bought first, but I remember The Jesus Record, Songs and Brother’s Keeper being played on our living room CD / Vinyl turntable, and via the CD player on caravan trips through France. Before university, I remember branching out and listening to A Liturgy, A Legacy & A Ragamuffin Band. And only in recent weeks, at the instigation of a fellow pilgrim, have I picked up the two volumes of The World as I Remember It.
On the 24th anniversary of Rich Mullins’ passing, I want to focus on a slightly different paradox within his music. This is the curiously neglected theme that I consider to be a leitmotif running throughout his works—the experience of home. For Rich, the theme of home relates deeply, though not straightforwardly, to experiences of national belonging, since both have to do with one’s roots, the stuff of which we are made. In what follows, I want to briefly consider the following question: what might Rich Mullins have to teach us about national belonging and patriotism, about belonging to home and, conversely, the experience of homesickness? I will suggest that there are two animating experiences which exist in tension within Rich’s account of home: the first is the passionatedesire of the loverwho celebrates the particular place to which she belongs; and the second is the homesick longing of the sojournerwho is lonely for his true home with God.