Biblical prophecy and Israel: Are predictions unfolding before our eyes?



Author Joel Rosenberg believes some of the events unfolding around us hold biblical significance, particularly when it comes to Israel and the Middle East.

Rosenberg, an expert on biblical prophecy who now lives in Israel, recently spoke with CBN News about Hamas, the war in Gaza, and how current events might play into what the Bible says about future happenings and the end of days.

“That is the No. 1 question I’m getting asked. … ‘Can you put this [current moment] in a prophetic context?'” Rosenberg said. “I would say, No. 1, we’re definitely in a birth pang, right? Jesus speaks in Matthew 24 that there’s going to be contractions and releases, moments of wars and rumors of wars, and kingdom against kingdom, nation against nation, as well as earthquakes and famines and other disasters.”

He continued, “Those are contractions, and just like when your wife gets close to delivering … the contractions are longer and more painful, and the release moments are shorter.”

Rosenberg said Israelis were living in a time of release on Oct. 6, 2023, as it was safe, prosperous, and secure — the safest it had been in modern history.

“You’d have to go back to the days of Solomon and David when the kingdom was peaceful and secure,” he said, noting that Israel had just come off making four Arab-Israeli peace treaties and normalization treaties via the Abraham Accords. “We were just about to finalize another deal — the biggest peace and normalization deal in Israeli history — and that would be with the Saudi government.”

But all of that peace was obliterated by Hamas’ horrific terror attack on Oct. 7, 2023, an event he said was the “longest contraction” modern Israel has faced.

“I would add that, just in context, I believe COVID was a biblical Matthew 24 contraction where … a lot of people died. But the other part was … not only was there this terrible health pandemic, plague, a biblical plague, but even the American government could say in an instant, ‘You can’t go to church. You can’t leave your house. You can’t go see your friends, but the strip clubs could stay open. The casinos could stay open. The bars could stay open, the liquor stores, but not churches. That was a contraction.”

'There’s no question in my mind that we’re seeing the chess pieces on the board align in a manner that’s consistent with the prerequisites of Ezekiel 38-39.'

Another contraction, he said, is Russia’s prolonged war in Ukraine, a chaotic and deadly ongoing event further creating international stability.

Rosenberg cited Amos 9:9 while discussing Israel’s current war after the Hamas invasion. That verse reads (NIV): “For I will give the command, and I will shake the people of Israel among all the nations as grain is shaken in a sieve, and not a pebble will reach the ground.”

He believes Amos 9:9 is a recurring prophecy but that the current war in Israel is another “shaking” that falls under its umbrella.

“I don’t believe Israel’s under judgment. … In other words, God didn’t send this enemy, but God … allowed it,” Rosenberg said. “Why? To shake us, to help us realize that most Israelis either haven’t read, don’t remember, or don’t care about Psalm 23, in which David, our greatest king, told us the Lord is our shepherd.”

He said some Israelis forgot, due to security, the realities inherent in this scripture.

“We forgot as a nation that there are ravenous wolves trying to destroy us,” he said. “It shows what a moment of release of security we felt like we were in. But I think this is a wake-up call.”

As for the Palestinians of Gaza, Rosenberg said he believes they are facing a “biblical judgment,” appealing to Genesis 12:1-3 (NIV) to make his case. Those verses read:

The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you. “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

Rosenberg said the Abrahamic Covenant makes it clear that God will bless those who bless Israel and curse those who do not.

“If you curse Israel every day for 76 years, and you want to … elect a genocidal government, even if later you don’t want that, but what are you going to do now?” he said. “I believe we’re seeing a judgment. Doesn’t mean God doesn’t want to show mercy. Also, we need to pray as Christians. Who else is praying for the Palestinians? We need to be. We need to show compassion. But there’s a judgment going on from 76 years of hatred, hostility, cursing, and now, you know, an attempt at genocide against Israel and the Jewish people.”

Considering the prophetic verses in Bible books like Ezekiel — particularly the Gog and Magog prophecy — Rosenberg broke down his beliefs on what’s happening now and how it might relate.

“In terms of watching where we are going, there’s no question in my mind that we’re seeing the chess pieces on the board align in a manner that’s consistent with the prerequisites of Ezekiel 38-39 happening, the war of Gog and Magog,” Rosenberg said, referring to the Bible chapters that purportedly predict Russia, Iran, and Turkey attempting to invade Israel.

But Rosenberg was also careful in addressing these issues, reminding Christians not to read too closely into what’s happening. He said dynamics can and do quickly shift.

“I just want to caution people who are interested in those prophecies … don’t try to jump to a fast conclusion,” he said. “The data doesn’t support yet a conclusion, but it definitely supports [the premise], ‘Isn’t this interesting?'”

This article originally appeared on CBN's Faithwire.

Does 'Bonhoeffer' promote Christian nationalism? The truth behind the controversy



Angel Studios recently released the new film "Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin." Having taught Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s thought in classes in the past and having read from his "Letters and Papers in Prison" at my sister’s wedding and other public events, I was excited about Bonhoeffer’s entry into theaters. The film’s trailer was extremely well-done, so I did what I could to post it on social media and to encourage people to go.

Then, something happened that surprised me.

When I posted about Bonhoeffer, I could count on two things happening. There would be a comment expressing concern about “Christian nationalism.” And there would be a link shared leading to a letter signed by many members of Bonhoeffer’s family expressing their grave reservations.

I observed this dynamic on more than one occasion, which led me to wonder whether there was some kind of orchestrated opposition to the film and its message. Having seen "Bonhoeffer" and being a scholar of politics and religion, I can comment on the phenomenon from a position of knowledge.

Why the apparent counter-campaign seemingly designed to reduce enthusiasm for the film and perhaps dissuading some portion of the potential audience from seeing it?

I think the answer is quite straightforward and centers on Eric Metaxas.

Metaxas, formerly a "VeggieTales" writer and creator of the "Socrates in the City" series of conversations in New York City, exploded into prominence with the publication of "Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy" in 2009. The biography unexpectedly became a massive bestseller of the type that even finds its way into airport bookstores. While there was some protest from scholars that the book portrayed Bonhoeffer as something much more like an American evangelical than the German associate of Karl Barth he was, the negative reaction was minimal compared to the generally wholesome presentation of the man to a public that didn’t know him well.

Everything changed when Metaxas became a vocal Donald Trump supporter in his writings and on his radio show.

Bonhoeffer’s resistance to the Nazis makes him a hero of the church.

Many evangelicals (especially elite evangelicals) have struggled with the Trump question over the years. Russell Moore and David French came down inalterably opposed to Trump, while Metaxas endorsed him enthusiastically. Before Trump, all three men would have been part of the same nexus of conservative evangelicals.

For many, Metaxas’ support of Trump has tainted his association with Bonhoeffer. While Metaxas has not been part of the team producing the film about the German theologian, he has promoted it. I would suggest, then, that the effort made to gather up a letter of protest from members of the Bonhoeffer family and to gin up worries that Bonhoeffer has been made out as a symbol of Christian nationalism is really based on anger with Metaxas and the success he made writing about him.

Metaxas, on this view, is unworthy to be associated with Bonhoeffer.

But what about the film, itself, and its portrayal of Bonhoeffer? Is this some nasty job of warping one of the German heroes of resistance to Hitler into a champion of Christian nationalism? Does the photo of Bonhoeffer with a gun on posters translate him into a vigilante?

The answers to both of these questions are no. I would argue that the resistance to the film has been unfair and that it deserves to be evaluated on its own merits.

Who is the Bonhoeffer of the film? He is who we understand Bonhoeffer to have been. He was a German from a prominent family who studied theology, including at New York’s storied Union Theological Seminary, and ultimately became a great champion of the resistance to Hitler’s work in transforming the German church into something alien to orthodox Christianity.

All of this is clear in the film and is portrayed, so as to give Christians a role model. The incredible surrender of the German church to Hitler’s new Aryanized “German Christianity” is a matter of record. It took incredible courage to push in a different direction, but Bonhoeffer did (as did Martin Niemoller, also portrayed in the film).

Is he a Christian nationalist or even feasible in any way as a Christian nationalist? Not if what one means by Christian nationalism is a politically warped gospel. This Bonhoeffer is the one who fights for the church to be true to the transcendent God and not the various immanent ones we conjure up for ourselves.

There is a second point that is notable. Bonhoeffer is a hero because he fought for the church to refuse to bend the knee to Hitler out of a right recognition of Christ as Lord.

But tied in with that is the question of whether Bonhoeffer was involved in the plot to assassinate Hitler. Certainly, he did try to infiltrate the government. He served in the Abwehr, a military intelligence unit in Nazi Germany, as a double agent. The film portrays him smuggling Jews into Switzerland but, more importantly, wrestling with the decision to kill Hitler.

This is a key point.

Bonhoeffer’s resistance to the Nazis makes him a hero of the church. His involvement in a plot to assassinate Hitler is a more difficult question. It is not easy to make out a case for a Christian to take part in such an operation. There are various threads of Christian thought that can be explored and considered, but that is part of what makes the film worth recommending. The Bonhoeffer of the movie wrestles with the disaster that has befallen his country and its people.

While it is a tremendous challenge to paint the picture of one of the 20th century’s most notable lives and various compromises that must be made, "Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin." succeeds in its task. Those who already know the story will find it alternately encouraging and challenging. Those who don’t will see a moving portrayal of the struggle men and women of conscience faced in the crisis of Nazi Germany.

This Bonhoeffer is not perfect, but he is a role model worthy of emulation. He loves music, people (of all races), and God, and he is willing to give his life for what he believes. The people who fired shots of concern over this film missed the mark.

When a theologian's damning prediction comes true almost 100 years early



Anti-Christian antagonists love to define Christians by what they think Christianity stands against. But Christians must define themselves by what they stand for.

Now is an especially important time to remember this axiom.

As Americans celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday last week, its geopolitical cousins in Britain crossed the Rubicon and embraced death, legalizing so-called "assisted suicide" in England and Wales. Now, Britons over 18 who have been diagnosed with a "terminal illness" and supposedly have fewer than six months to live can receive approval from two physicians and a judge to self-administer fatal drugs.

Supporters of assisted suicide argue it is a compassionate means of ending suffering. One British lawmaker, Peter Prinsley of the Labour Party, claimed in support of the bill, "We are shortening death, not life, for our patients. This is not life or death; this is death or death."

(Let it not be lost on the reader that this justification serves to lessen the now-deceased's burden on Britain's welfare state and its National Health Service.)

The death culture that celebrates "assisted suicide" has succeeded in Western culture because we have eroded, in the view of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary president Albert Mohler Jr., "moral absolutes [that] rest on explicitly Christian foundations."

In a world that increasingly prescribes death for the undesirables — the unborn, the sick, the elderly — Christians must hold true to their core value of protecting life.

In this context, the most important moral absolute is that each and every human being is intrinsically valuable because humans are the Imago Dei, created in the image and likeness of God, the author of life.

"A society that honors this foundational truth could not contemplate the subversion of human life and human dignity by assisted suicide. A society that denies this essential truth will eventually rationalize anything, given time and motivation," Mohler observes.

When the moral absolute of the Imago Dei is discarded, no longer does a terminally ill person have value, and no longer do humans limit the power of giving and taking life to God. In such cultures, the state becomes like God, determining whose live is valuable and whose life is worth preserving.

In 2012, theologian Stanley Hauerwas offered a prediction about Christians and the culture of death that turned out to be extremely prescient.

He said:

I say in a hundred years, if Christians are known as a strange group of people who don’t kill their children and don’t kill the elderly, we will have done a great thing. I mean, that may not sound like much, but I think it is the ultimate politic. I mean, if we can just be a disciplined enough community, who through the worship of God has discovered that we are ready to be hospitable to new life and life that is suffering, then, as a matter of fact, that is a political alternative that otherwise the world will not have.

This, of course, is something that Christians have always done.

Christians cared for the widows and the orphans. Christians cared for the sick. Christians cared for the unwanted children. Christians cared for those whom society deemed as burdens. Christians essentially invented the hospital. Christianity accommodates all human life because every life is inherently valuable.

In a world that increasingly prescribes death for the undesirables — the unborn, the sick, the elderly — Christians must hold true to their core value of protecting life. Put simply: Caring for the vulnerable and protecting life is who Christians are; it's core to the Christian identity.

Christianity's institutionalized charity transformed the ancient world, and it can renew ours.

In a culture that celebrates death, Christians must be the strange group of people who stand for life — no matter the cost.

May Christians continue to be — as they have always been — in the words of Hauerwas, "the political alternative" this world otherwise does not have.

Debunking a famous Christian phrase — and why that's good news for your faith



I don’t remember the first time I heard someone say, “Christianity isn’t a religion; it’s a relationship,” but I do remember I heard it sometime during my high school years. I graduated high school in 2001, and the saying had already made its way to my ears in south Texas. I don’t know how much earlier it had been circulated.

For the longest time, I loved that expression. I remember repeating it to others, and I’m fairly sure it showed up in early sermons that I preached.

“Christianity isn’t a religion; it’s a relationship.” It rang true to me because I was aware, even in my teenage years, of how suspicious many people were about organized religion. The expression basically said to people, “God wants a relationship with you through Christ. That’s what Christianity is all about.”

But false dichotomies are a real thing — and that expression is one of them.

I think the expression “Christianity isn’t a religion; it’s a relationship” is meant to be helpful and not dismissive of anything true. Those who use the expression are probably trying to cut through the negative impressions that some people have about religious practices and duties. They’re trying to show Christianity’s distinctiveness as something based on God’s grace rather than man’s works. And they’re trying to emphasize the good news that God has graciously pursued sinners through a redemptive plan that culminates in his son’s perfect atoning sacrifice. In Christ, we have a relationship with God that is characterized by pardon and life and peace.

But before you believe someone who says Christianity isn’t a religion, what’s the definition of a religion?

Defining terms is key in every discussion. And if someone is framing a “religion” as something that is inherently false and works-based, then Christianity isn’t that. But the definition of a religion is broader, more general.

Following Jesus is not some nebulous and vague notion that people can do no matter what they believe or how they live.

A religion is a set of attitudes, beliefs, and practices. These beliefs pertain to all manner of things, like whether there is a god and what the meaning of life is and whether anything happens after death.

Christianity is a religion because holy scripture identifies the attitudes, beliefs, and practices of Christians.

If someone says, “Christianity is about a relationship with God,” we should ask follow-up questions. What is this God like? What does a relationship with him entail? How is a relationship with God established? Where did Christianity come from? Why wasn’t this desirable relationship with God something we already had? What should be my response to this relationship?

Once we start asking and answering these questions, we’ve entered the realm of what Christians believe. And beliefs are integral to a religion.

Christianity also has practices. There are things like praying and fasting and giving and singing. There is assembling as God’s people for corporate worship. There is the Great Commission, in which Christ has called for his disciples to make disciples of the nations.

Following Jesus is not some nebulous and vague notion that people can do no matter what they believe or how they live. Christianity is a religion. We aren’t helping people when we distort what Christianity is.

And Christianity is also the good news about God’s merciful rescue of sinners — his unbreakable union with them by grace and through faith and in Christ. Praise God that Christianity has relational news! But God also has a relationship with non-believers — a relationship of enmity. Rebels against God are pursuing a hostile relationship with him. What sinners need is a new and reconciled relationship with God.

Christianity declares the good news of Christ being the way, the truth, and the life for sinners (John 14:6).

Don’t be reluctant to claim and explain that Christianity is a religion and a relationship. Rather than doing away with the term “religion,” we should incorporate the terms “true” and “false.” The Christian message is about true religion, true worship, true life. The man-made and works-based religions of the world are false because there is no other god but the living God who has revealed himself in Christ Jesus.

As we help people understand what it means to trust and follow Jesus, we should want to avoid speaking in a way that over-individualizes discipleship. After all, some people have a spiritual allergy to gathering together, submitting to authority, and living obediently. They like a “me and Jesus” version of Christianity because it costs them nothing, and they can maintain life as they see fit while claiming to be “spiritual but not religious.”

When we say that “Christianity is not a religion; it’s a relationship,” we unwittingly play into the problem of individualization that plagues the lives of many professing Christians.

Does Christianity teach about God’s new relationship with sinners through faith in Christ? Yes. But is Christianity still a religion? Of course. In fact, it is true religion. It is the true worship of and obedience to the living God. And it involves the understanding that Christ has redeemed a people from the nations for his glory. He has laid down his life for his bride, the Church.

When we help people understand what it means to trust and follow Jesus, we need to be sure we’re honoring what scripture teaches about discipleship. We are to follow Jesus with the people of Jesus.

This essay was originally published at Dr. Mitchell Chase's Substack, "Biblical Theology."

Medusa lurks in Tulsa, Oklahoma



In Steven Spielberg’s 1993 adaption of Michael Crichton’s popular novel “Jurassic Park,” there’s a scene in which Muldoon, the game warden, explains to the group that the velociraptors understand their caged predicament as a problem to be solved.

“They were testing the fences for weaknesses systematically,” he says, as the group peers anxiously into the pen.

So was McAdams really praying in earnest to the mythical snake-haired goddess you probably learned about in eighth-grade English?

Of course, later in the film, when the park’s security system is shut down, the raptors do manage to escape their cage, leading to Muldoon’s bloody death.

I bring this up because it reminds me of what just happened in Tulsa, Oklahoma, earlier this month.

The Demon Star

On November 20, an unremarkable woman named Ms. McAdams approached the podium at a Tulsa city council meeting. She was invited there to open the meeting with a prayer. And pray she did, but not to the God whom the state of Oklahoma recently decided to reinstate in its public school system by including the Bible in American history studies.

Ms. McAdams prayed to Medusa.

Introducing herself as a “priestess of the goddess,” she recited the following invocation.

I invoke the Gorgonea, champions of equality and sacred rage. I call to Medusa, monstrous hero of the oppressed and abused. I open the eye of Medusa, the stare that petrifies injustice. I call upon the serpent that rises from this land to face the stars, the movement of wisdom unbound. May these leaders find within themselves the embodied divine, the sacred essence of the spark of the universe and the breath of the Awen.

Place in the hands of these leaders the sacred work of protecting the sovereignty and autonomy of all our people. Gorgon goddess, make them ready and willing to be champions for all in this city, not just those in power. Shine a light for them that they may walk the path of justice protected and prepared, illuminating the darkness. Endow them with the fire of courage, the waters of compassion, the air of truth, and the strength of the earth itself. As above, so below; as within, so without; as the universe, so the soul. May there be peace among you all, and so it is.

Why Medusa?

McAdams opens by invoking the “Gorgonea,” a group of stars that make up part of the northern constellation Persesus. Consisting of four stars, the Gorgonea represents Medusa’s severed head. The brightest star among the four is named Algol — the “Demon Star.”

According to the myth, of which there are several versions, Medusa was once a beautiful priestess who was turned into a snake-haired gorgon by Athena after she was raped by Poseidon in Athena’s temple. From that point forward, men (there’s no record of women) who gazed upon her would be turned into stone. The hero Perseus was sent to kill Medusa. Using a mirrored shield, Perseus was able to avoid her stony gaze and behead her. However, her severed head maintained its powers and proved to be a valuable weapon.

So was McAdams really praying in earnest to the mythical snake-haired goddess you probably learned about in eighth-grade English?

Yes and no.

“Many Christians equate any reference to snakes or serpents directly with Satan, but I am referencing the serpents that makeup [sic] Medusa's hair. This is classical mythology and before Christianity, snakes were ancient symbols of feminine divinity, healing, and transformation," McAdams reportedly wrote in a Facebook post after her prayer sparked immediate backlash.

So in a sense, yes, McAdams was really praying to the serpentine Medusa from Greek lore.

However, those of us who know the truth understand that there is no snake-haired goddess dwelling among the stars who can assist the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma, in its battle for “equality” and “justice.” There is another serpent who could and would trick people into carrying out his sinister will under the guise of empathy and empowerment, but we’ll get to him in a minute.

McAdams is an occult priestess, meaning she serves a specific deity — in this case, the goddess Medusa. Theoretically, all rites and rituals she performs are aligned with the will of Medusa. To do this, she must be deeply connected to what the occult calls “the otherworld” or “the spirit realm.”

Modern priestesses are specifically concerned with raising consciousness and activating humans to carry out the will of the deity they serve. Notice how McAdams asks Medusa to inspire the city council members to act on behalf of certain “humanitarian” causes.

During my research, I was surprised to discover that McAdams’ worship of Medusa as a powerful goddess of femininity is very common among occultists. They write and speak about her as if she is real and can be called upon for help and guidance. Many report that Medusa appears to them in dreams; others find that snakes seek them out. This is how they know that Medusa is calling to them.

As I was reading, I came across multiple sources that instructed readers on how to “work with her.” It involves casting hexes on your abusers (remember: Medusa was raped), learning water magic and creating altars of seashells, coral, driftwood, and other oceanic items (Medusa was a sea deity), presenting blood sacrifices in the form of menstrual blood (Medusa is associated with feminine energy and power), and — surprise, surprise — collecting snake-related items, such as shed skin, amulets, etc.

Those who engage in these types of rituals all report the same thing: Medusa will come.

I believe them. I just don’t call her by that name.

Beyond the Gorgon

If it isn’t obvious already, Ms. McAdams and those like her are worshipping and carrying out the will of Satan — the shape-shifter who probably does appear or call to them in the form of a snake-haired goddess falsely promising righteous revenge on the male oppressors of society and deliverance for their female victims.

And for the record, it doesn’t have to be Medusa. The occult worships many different deities and supernatural entities with names you’re probably familiar with. They’re all satanic.

McAdams' prayer is a fusion of demonic and progressive ideologies, which are one and the same, as progressivism inverts biblical truth. She positions herself as all modern liberals do — a champion for the oppressed, in this case for women.

That’s why she specifically invokes Medusa, a goddess of feminine power and the ideal figurehead for the radical feminist movement that lauds abortion and trans inclusivity but despises masculinity and the nuclear family — and wraps these ideas in deceptive platitudes of equality and freedom so that they’re widely appealing. Satan loves the modern feminist for these reasons.

Breaches in the fence

Like the raptors testing the security of the fences that prevent them from devouring the park tourists, Satan and his demonic legions are constantly testing the boundaries that have been erected to keep evil at bay. Their intention is also to devour.

A decade ago, in Town of Greece vs. Galloway, the Supreme Court ruled that prayer before a legislative session was constitutional, so long as the opportunity was available to all faiths. I’m not surprised that Satan saw this as a chink in the fence. I’m also not surprised that we’re seeing him utilize this opening now, given Oklahoma’s recent decision to bring the Bible back into its classrooms. Further, Satan’s message is far more likely to land in this toxically empathetic society that rewards radicalism and fringe groups while demonizing anything that would fall under a Christian worldview.

But Oklahoma is not the first place the demonic has brazenly shown its ugly face to the public. Last December, the Satanic Temple erected a statue of the demon Baphomet in the Iowa Capitol building in the name of religious freedom. In fact, there are multiple examples of the Satanic Temple worming its way into the political arena.

These incidents are becoming more frequent as society’s “fences” become weaker and weaker. I hope we will not write off McAdams’ prayer as the dismissable ravings of a middle-aged woman who thinks Medusa is real. Medusa is real. His name is Satan.

Documentary 'The Philadelphia Eleven': Mythmaking for a dying Christian denomination



Of all the divisions troubling Protestantism today, perhaps none is as hotly debated as women’s ordination.

All seven mainline Protestant denominations have adopted the practice, while evangelical and fundamentalist denominations have defiantly refused to entertain the notion on biblical grounds.

Even progressives in the church were apprehensive about this direct assault on the 'patriarchal' status quo, fearing that it would undermine the legitimacy of the church.

Scripture seems to speak quite clearly on women’s capacity for leadership in 1 Timothy 2:12. As St. Paul writes, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man."

But as advocates for women’s ordination argue, female religious leaders in the New Testament like Phoebe, Priscilla, Lydia, and Mary seemed to hold positions of greater respect than St. Paul suggests. Many point out that Phoebe is described as a deacon or deaconess (diakonos) in Romans, which would suggest that there was a model of female authority within the church.

However, the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church, which claim apostolic succession and a direct ecclesiastical connection to the apostles, are defiantly against the practice and defend male-only holy orders as the orthodox teaching of the church.

On July 29, 1974, 11 female priests were ordained in the Episcopal Church. The act was largely symbolic, but real change soon followed. Those ordinations became legitimate in 1976 when the House of Bishops conditionally recognized them.

In response, hundreds of parishes broke away from the Episcopal Church as part of the Continuing Anglican movement, paving the way for the founding of the rival Anglican Church in North America in 2009. Ironically enough, that denomination is now split over women’s ordination.

Margo Guernsey’s new documentary “The Philadelphia Eleven” commemorates the 50th anniversary of this watershed moment through interviews with several of the surviving 11.

It’s clear that Guernsey sees women’s ordination as a righteous act of liberationist defiance progress; these women, she writes, “provide a vision for what a just and inclusive community looks like in practice.”

The women in the film depict their quest for greater female participation in the church as inspired by the civil rights movement. It was also an act of “obedience to the Spirit,” which took precedence over adherence to tradition.

The film admits how radical this was. Even progressives in the church were apprehensive about this direct assault on the “patriarchal” status quo, fearing that it would undermine the legitimacy of the church.

In retrospect, it’s clear that their fears were justified.

The ceremony caused extensive turmoil within the Episcopal Church. Several clergy involved had their careers severely damaged. Dozens of bishops and priests condemned the ceremony as an illegal farce, even as the women publicly defended their ordinations as valid. One quoted St. Paul during a television appearance: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).

It did little good in the short term, as none of the woman were able to find positions. Ultimately, however, they won. By 1988, the Episcopal Church would even ordinate its first female bishop.

“Half of the human population was acknowledged as being important enough to take on one of the strongest institutions in the world,” said Philadelphia 11 member Nancy Wittig.

That’s certainly one way to look at it. Another way is to acknowledge that the institution Wittig and her cohort defeated is now but a shadow of its former self.

The Episcopal Church has continued down the path the Philadelphia 11 set it on, abandoning traditional Christian teaching on other issues like sexuality and abortion. It revised its canons to the point that bishops aren’t allowed to deny women’s ordinations.

The church now is deeply committed to social justice and tolerance, and it does much admirable work in trying to address many of the world’s wrongs. But it is also on the precipice of demographic collapse and will functionally cease to exist by 2040.

The Philadelphia 11 may have turned the tide against the patriarchy within their church and given women permission to be priests, but the resulting schism may prove too deeply wounding to celebrate their victory beyond the passing of this generation. It leaves a film like “ThePhiladelphia Eleven” balancing awkwardly over the abyss.

More than a countdown: Do you know the full meaning of Advent?



Today is the beginning of Advent, the Christian season of preparation and anticipation leading up to Christmas.

For most Christians, Advent is a time to slow down, to spend time with God and community, to serve others, and to prepare oneself for celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. This is good and right.

But focusing only on the birth of Christ robs us of Advent's full meaning.

The word "Advent" is derived from the Latin word adventus, which can be translated as "arrival" or "coming." The word adventus, moreover, is used to translate the Greek word parousia, the word used in the Greek New Testament to refer to the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Why is this important?

It means that Advent is not only a season of anticipating the arrival of Jesus — the long-awaited and hoped-for Messiah — but it's a season to anticipate and prepare for Christ's return.

Let us prepare our hearts not only for the Incarnation, but for the triumphal return of Christ and the consummation of all creation.

During Advent, we should reflect on how the two arrivals of Jesus are, according to Bible scholar Dr. Jonathan Gibson, "distinctly contrasted" but "inseparably connected."

"If he came the first time in quiet humility to the few, he will come the second time in rapturous glory to the many. If in the first coming he was wrapped in swaddling clothes and attended by animals, in the second he will be wrapped in blinding light and attended by angels. In his first coming, he was seen in a lowly manger by the magi; in his second coming, he will be seen on an exalted throne by the multitudes," Gibson observes.

Why is this important? Because, as Gibson explains, the first and second coming of Christ "bookend" His redemptive work.

"In his first coming Christ came to inaugurate his kingdom (Mark 1:15) and secure redemption for his people (John 6:39). But the kingdom was only provisionally realized; the redemption only partially applied in that first coming. The consummation of the kingdom will only be fully realized (2 Timothy 4:1) and the completion of redemption only be fully applied (Philippians 1:6) in Christ’s second coming," Gibson explains. "What Christ began to do in his first coming, he will return to complete in his second coming."

The season of Advent, then, is full of temporal tension.

As we remember Christ's first coming and prepare for His second, we get to embrace living in the "already but not yet." That means letting the hope of Christ's return and His impending triumph over all creation shape how we live today.

At the same time, Advent is a time to cultivate joyful expectation. God is faithful, and Christ will return to make all things right. Though we have long awaited His return, the faithfulness of God gives us hope and strength to persevere as we continue to wait for that glorious day.

So as we light Advent candles, open Advent calendars, and sing Advent hymns, let us remember the full meaning of the Advent season. Let us prepare our hearts not only for the Incarnation, but for the triumphal return of Christ and the consummation of all creation.

A prayer for the first Sunday of Advent

From the Book of Common Prayer.

Almighty God,

Give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Amen.

Don't miss the key detail in Gabriel’s message to Mary: Why Jesus' name matters



Old Testament readers will notice that the significance of a character can commonly be found even in that character’s name. The names Adam, Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Solomon, and many others carry with them some kind of verb or noun that connects to their origin, demeanor, or purpose.

And every once in a while, the name of a character is announced before the birth. When that happens, the reader can be especially intrigued because announcing a person’s name ahead of time raises our expectations for what that character will be and do.

Mary and Joseph were to name the child Joshua because, through the birth of this child, salvation had come.

When the virgin Mary was in Nazareth, the angel Gabriel revealed to her that she would have a son and that her son would be the promised king who would rule on David’s throne (Luke 1:30–33). She would give birth to the Messiah.

Gabriel told her, “You shall call his name Jesus” (Luke 1:31). He told Joseph the same thing: “She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus” (Matthew 1:21). What’s interesting in Joseph’s case is that Gabriel explained the name: “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (1:21).

The angel not only made an announcement, he also gave an instruction.

Joseph and Mary could not name the child whatever they liked. The son would have a name that connected to his mission. Naming the child Jesus would be an act of obedience on their part.

The name “Jesus” in Greek is the equivalent of the name “Joshua” in Hebrew. And the name Joshua was a familiar one to readers of the Old Testament. The book called Joshua is named after the ancient successor to Moses. That Joshua led the Israelites across the Jordan River and into the promised land for the conquest. Through Joshua’s leadership and faithfulness, the Lord gave the Israelites victory and their inheritance.

Jesus — or Joshua — means “Yahweh is salvation.”

In the Old Testament, deliverance or salvation took different forms. An individual, like the psalmist, could celebrate God’s salvation from a threatening illness. A nation could receive deliverance from an external enemy — like the Philistines or the Amalekites. A penitent sinner could be delivered from divine discipline for transgressions.

Why is Jesus named “Yahweh is salvation”? Because he would accomplish the greatest and most far-reaching deliverance possible. He “would save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

Jesus is a true and greater Joshua because he brought a greater salvation. Mary and Joseph were to name the child Joshua because, through the birth of this child, salvation had come. Salvation had a name.

Hear the angel say, “You shall call his name Joshua,” for that name will most easily connect us to the Old Testament background. Jesus didn’t come merely to promise deliverance or to sustain the hope for deliverance or to point us to some other source for deliverance. He came to be our deliverance. His name means “Yahweh is salvation,” and he is the deliverance we need.

We need to be saved from our sins, so we need the one whom the angel called “Jesus” — the new Joshua to lead the people of God into a land of everlasting life.

This essay was originally published at Dr. Mitchell Chase's Substack, Biblical Theology.

'AI Jesus' enters the confessional: Blasphemy or bold experiment?



Critics have accused a historic Catholic church in a woke Swiss bishop's diocese of engaging in blasphemy and heresy for having a pseudo-AI masquerade as Christ in a confessional.

The controversial project, which has an animated depiction of Jesus on a computer monitor field questions from parishioners, is the result of a collaboration between Marco Schmid, the resident theologian at St. Peter's Chapel in Lucerne, and a duo from the Lucerne University of Applied Sciences and Arts' Immersive Realities Research Lab, Philipp Haslbauer and Aljosa Smolic.

According to the university, the project, which was launched in August, explores "the use of virtual characters based on generative artificial intelligence in a spiritual context."

"This installation allows visitors to interact with an artificial Jesus Christ in a hundred different languages, who will respond to their questions and offer answers," the university continued in its release. "Can a machine address people in a religious and spiritual way? To what extent can people confide in a machine with existential questions and accept its answers? How does AI behave in a religious context? The 'Deus in Machina' project encourages us to think about the limits of technology in the context of religion."

On Wednesday, the chapel once again referred to its Jesus-themed chatbot as "God in the machine," using the Latin, "Deus in machina," and characterized it further as a "heavenly hologram" and "experimental art installation" that "opens up a space of intimacy."

According to the chapel, one supposed benefit of having the multilingual "AI Jesus" spit out data scraped from the internet is that because "AI is based on data and algorithms, it could provide answers that are free from personal or cultural biases, which can be surprising, especially in controversial or sensitive topics."

Schmid, who maintains that the graven image effectively mocking the sacrament was placed in the confessional for pragmatic not sacramental reasons, told the Guardian, "We wanted to see and understand how people react to an AI Jesus. What would they talk with him about? Would there be interest in talking to him? We're probably pioneers in this."

When discussing who they would like to see parrot answers generated by a machine, Schmid and his collaborators initially considered persons other than Jesus Christ. "We had a discussion about what kind of avatar it would be — a theologian, a person, or a saint? But then we realized the best figure would be Jesus himself," said Schmid.

St. Peter's Chapel is playing with fire with its placement of the chatbot in the confessional and ascription of computer-generated answers to a potentially "idiotic" avatar depicting Christ.

The chapel admitted at the outset that its "AI Jesus" could "give incomprehensible, and in some cases stupid and idiotic answers."

'It has nothing to do with a sacramental encounter.'

Incomprehensibility on the part of the chatbot is hardly the worst that could happen. The bot's reliance on online sources makes it susceptible to passing off views contrary to Catholic teaching. As a result, the nominal Catholics behind the project might have unwittingly installed a heretical machine with a Jesus mask to answer theological questions in the chapel.

Furthermore, while Schmid stressed, "We are not intending to imitate a confession," they came dangerously close.

Rev. Thomas Rausch, a professor of theology at Loyola Marymount University, recently told USA Today that the installation is in no way a substitute for the sacrament of reconciliation, citing canon laws 965 and 966, which underscore only priests can hear confessions.

"Confession, or 'Reconciliation' as it is usually termed today, is an ecclesial sacrament, always private, celebrated with a penitent and a priest who has been authorized by the Church to proclaim God's forgiveness," said Rev. Rausch. "AI is a non-ecclesial, impersonal set of technologies, which assembles collections of data into a programmed readout. It has nothing to do with a sacramental encounter."

David DeCosse, a religious studies professor and ethics expert at Santa Clara University, told the paper, "It's almost a textbook case of the limits of AI in terms of all that we miss when we depart from the bodily, the interpersonal, the face, the subtleties, and feelings of human memory."

While the installation may be radical, Bishop Felix Gmür, the Swiss bishop who oversees the dioceses, is similarly unorthodox.

The Catholic News Agency indicated that Gmür has called for the ordination of women, the end of priestly celibacy, and a decentralization of the church. He has also called for the church to "find meaning" for homosexual unions.

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