Captive Missionary
Kidnapped, by Karl and Debbie Dortzbach (Harper & Row, 1975, 177 pp., $5.95) is reviewed by Philip Siddons, pastor, Wright’s Corner United Presbyterian Church, Lockport, New York.
It has been said that man’s greatest fear is fear of the unknown. The narrative of the missionary nurse taken hostage by rebel Ethiopian guerrillas supports the theory. The chapters are alternately written by Karl and Debbie Dortzbach. Though Karl’s reflections are mostly theological in tone, it should be remembered that all he had was a blind hope that his wife would be returned safely—a trust in God’s provision that had to defy every painful image his imagination could evoke.
Debbie was pregnant, was forced to run two hours at gunpoint, and underwent the horror of seeing her nurse companion murdered. She was exhausted physically and mentally. She suffered meager food allotments, unsanitary conditions, and constant fear of what her captors would do to her. Still she was with human beings—creatures capable of almost any horror, yet also capable of doing right.
Her underlying trust in God enabled her to make several discoveries. She realized that true freedom is not defined by one’s relationship to others; freedom is within. In the midst of a cholera-and malaria-infested chaos of fear and uncertainty, she was freed to rise above her situation. Although she constantly felt bitter toward her captors, she was able to turn her attention from herself toward them—and to attempt to love them. She was able to discern some of the meaning of denying self, taking up one’s cross daily, and following Him. Although she was a captive, she was free to see the charm of an obscure nomad woman, free to observe bugs and birds, and free to notice a sign of her Creator’s sense of humor in a wrinkled and weather-worn lizard.
The story ends happily; the Dortzbachs are reunited. But perhaps a deeper source of satisfaction to the reader is the reminder that God is above time—that he looks on the completed side of the tapestry which we occasionally see as only a hodge-podge of knots and frayed ends.
Did John The Baptist Write Revelation?
Revelation, by J. Massyngberde Ford (Doubleday, 1975, 450 pp., $9.00), is reviewed by Robert Mounce, dean of the College of Arts and Humanities, Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green.
For several years students of apocalyptic have been waiting for this Anchor Bible commentary on Revelation by Professor Ford of Notre Dame. Now it has appeared, and it promises to stimulate critical discussion for a number of years.
Ford’s “bold hypothesis” is that chapters 4–11 come, not from the Apostle John (or any other John about the end of the first century), but from John the Baptist at a time prior to the public ministry of Jesus. Chapters 12–22 come from a disciple of the Baptist who had a partial knowledge of Jesus, and chapters 1–3 plus a few verses in chapter 22 were added later by a Jewish-Christian editor. Therefore the book of Revelation is essentially a Jewish apocalypse—“a composite work from the ‘Baptist School’ who represented a primitive form of Christianity and inherited the Baptist’s prophetic, apocalyptic and ‘fiery’ (boanergic) tendencies.”
How does Ford arrive at this conclusion? By arguing that Revelation is unlike Christian apocalyptic and is similar in a number of points to the role and message of John the Baptist. For instance, the image of the Lamb of God applied to Jesus is found only in the gospel sections associated with the Baptist. The image of the bridegroom, the idea of baptism by fire, and the emphasis on wrath all reveal the rhetoric and outlook of the Baptist.
What should be said about this novel hypothesis? That the author argues her point well cannot be denied. Yet the questions raised by the thesis are far harder to answer than the details it explains. Upon learning that “Revelation is not primarily a Christian work”—it “does not fit into the Christian apocalyptic genre”—one must ask, How then was it ever included in the Christian canon? Until that question is answered, many will wonder whether Revelation isn’t more Christian than Ford will allow.
The format of the commentary is excellent. Translation of each unit is followed by a section of critical notes. For the first time an English commentary on Revelation has given careful attention to the Qumran materials and their eschatological outlook. The critical notes are helpful and to the point. The reader should be cautioned, however, to check all primary references. On pages 296–300 I found nine errors, including a non-existent Greek word (strenao), the citation of a Latin botanical term (thuia articulata) as the transliteration of the Greek zulon thuinon, and the statement that katoiketerion occurs only in Revelation 18:12 in the New Testament (it is also used in Ephesians 2:22).
The section of notes is followed by broad comment on the basic themes of the unit. Here we find some interesting suggestions—among them, that Flavius Josephus is the second beast, and that the Harlot of chapter 17 is Jerusalem rather than Rome.
Ford rearranges the final chapters in an effort to untangle the millennial Jerusalem (21:9–27, 8; 22:1–2) from the eternal Jerusalem (21:1–4c, 22:3–5; 21:5a, 4d, 5b, 6, 7; 22:6, 7a, 8–13, 7b, 17b, 18, 19). Exactly how the two Jerusalems became so interwoven is not explained. In the introduction Ford says that the editor has “masterfully” arranged “the most exquisitely and artistically constructed of all the apocalypses.” Perhaps the final chapters were altered by yet another editor!
Ford’s commentary marks out a new direction for the interpretation of Revelation. Her ideas will generate a great deal of critical discussion. With the important exception of the major thesis, the book will supply a significant amount of basic information that, properly understood, will shed considerable light on Revelation.
The Variety Of Sexuality
The Sexual Celibate, by Donald Goergen (Seabury, 1974, 266 pp., $8.95), is reviewed by Nancy Hardesty, doctoral student, University of Chicago, Chicago, Illinois.
Books on marriage and the family multiply like rabbits on publishers’ lists of late. Conferences and congresses consider the state of marriage today and strategies for saving the nuclear family. Seldom does anyone stop and ask, Are our priorities in the proper order?
Donald Goergen reminds us that Christians have only one choice in vocation: discipleship. Marriage, religious community, singleness are only three concrete expressions of that vocation. Our thinking about them should be shaped by biblical and theological concepts and not by contemporary cultural institutions.
The Sexual Celibate is a valuable contribution to such thinking. Georgen draws not only on his life as a Dominican and his work as a teacher of theology at a Catholic seminary in Iowa, but also on training at the Kansas Neurological Institute and the Menninger Foundation.
Sexuality, says Goergen, has to do with the sexes, our relationships with each other. The Bible and historical theology have seen sexuality not only in procreative terms but also in terms of celebration, fellowship, eschatology, and love. Sexuality is not synonymous with genitality but has an affective dimension as well. Both dimensions must be integrated in the mature person, who can then make responsible decisions concerning its expression. Chastity, which Goergen defines as the virtue concerned with touch, should characterize all Christians. It is not a synonym for celibacy, and celibacy is not a synonym for virginity in Goergen’s book.
The high point in the book is Georgen’s discussion of friendship, which picks up strands from Scripture, medieval treatises on friendship, examples from the lives of great Christians, and contemporary psychological insights. He reminds us that all mature people, regardless of their life style, need both intimate friendship and periods of solitude.
The Sexual Celibate is one of those books that should be read from beginning to end. Unless one has Goergen’s definitions clearly in mind, one may be a bit unnerved by his use of the word “homosexual” to describe what sociologists would call “homosocial” friendships, close relationships with those of one’s own gender. Protestant readers, likewise, should not be put off by the fact that Goergen speaks from within the tradition of Roman Catholic religious community life. His excellent discussion has a multitude of insights to offer all Christians, whatever their life style.
Inner-City Ministry
Everybody’s Afraid in the Ghetto, by Keith W. Phillips (Regal, 1975, 182 pp., $1.45 pb), is reviewed by Wesley G. Pippert, reporter, United Press International, Washington, D. C.
Keith Phillips has written a straightforward, clear-eyed account of the white Christian working in the black inner city. It is not only a book in which Phillips’s love shines through; it is an honest piece of writting as well. He writes of almost as many setbacks and failures as victories and changed lives. Anyone who has spent even the slightest amount of time in inner-city ministries knows that this is the reality of the ghetto.
Phillips, now twenty seven, is the founder and president of World Impact Incorporated. He had entered UCLA in 1964 with dreams of going into politics. Then he became director of Youth for Christ clubs in the Los Angeles inner city, and it changed his life. Eventually he recruited busloads of Biola students to go with him into Watts.
A few years later, his commencement address at Tabor College in Hillsboro, Kansas, led to the start of a similar ministry in Wichita. And a chapel talk at Grace Bible Institute led to a ministry in urban Omaha. In each case he enlisted the student bodies to help him.
Phillips built his witness upon genuine friendship. He talked to the youth of the inner city, listened to them, played ball with them, accepted them, and conducted Bible studies. Some accepted Christ. Many rejected him.
I began reading Phillips’s book with skepticism, and in the first chapter, in which he told of his fears during his first trips into Watts, he sounded to me like the typical white suburbanite. But his evident honesty, genuineness, and love convinced me his work is worthy.
BRIEFLY NOTED: REFERENCE BOOKS
Lutheran Cyclopedia, edited by Erwin Lueker (Concordia, 845 pp., $24.95). Major revision of the 1954 edition. Not just on Lutheranism but on all sorts of religious topics that Lutherans and others might wish to look up. There are also numerous entries that few are likely to look up, at least in a book with this title (Agnes, Eliza Agnew, Agni, and Agnoetae, to name four that appear consecutively). Properly speaking, this is a dictionary of church history much as those issued by Oxford, Westminster, and Zondervan, and it will be helpful to consult along with the others. All dictionaries are fallible, but for a variety of reasons church-history dictionaries are especially prone to error or distortion.
Lutherans in North America, edited by Clifford Nelson (Fortress, 557 pp., $22.50, $12.95 pb). The six parts, by six authors, are chronological, so this can be read as a narrative history. Thanks to a detailed index, together with abundant bibliographical references in the margins, it will probably be used more for reference by those wishing information on some topic in American Lutheran history. Unlike many denominational histories, this one tries to be reasonably fair to the various subdivisions instead of ridiculing “schismatics.”
Encyclopedia of Theology: The Concise Sacramentum Mundi, edited by Karl Rahner (Seaburg, 1,841 pp., $32.50). Major theological libraries already have the six-volume work, issued in the sixties and now out of print, of which this is the abridgement. No one with ready access to the large work need consult this, but for others this is a helpful presentation of progressive Catholic scholarship. Beware of unevenness: Calvinism merits six pages, Lutheranism nary a line.
A Guide to Indexed Periodicals in Religion, by John Regazzi and Theodore Hines (Scarecrow, 328 pp., $10). Superb! Some 2,700 religious periodicals are covered one or more times in seventeen abstract and index services. This book has not only a listing by title of each such periodical and where it is indexed but also a listing by the key words in the titles.
A Treasury of Quotations on Christian Themes, compiled by Carroll Simcox (Seabury, 269 pp., $12.95). An excellent collection of 2,859 quotations arranged by topics (e.g., prayer, friendship, silence), which are in turn grouped into six areas: God, creation, man, Christ and his Church, life in the Spirit, and the End. Indexes of sources and subjects.
The Golden Treasury of Puritan Quotations, compiled by I.D.E. Thomas (Moody, 321 pp. $7.95). More than 1,500 brief quotations from those sixteenth and seventeenth-century English Christians who wanted the church to reform itself considerably more than it had. Arranged by topics such as affliction, excess, mercy, worship. Better for personal reading than for inserting into public discourse.
The Cambridge History of the Bible, three volumes, edited by P. R. Ackroyd et al. (Cambridge, 1,873 pp., $24.50/set pb). Originally published 1963–70 in hardback, this set is a standard, multi-authored survey of the original compilation of the Scriptures, and of their subsequent transmission, translation, and exegetical study. The focus is on the major languages of Western Europe.
A Dictionary of Protestant Church Music, by James Robert Davidson (Scarecrow, 349 pp., $12.50). A few long articles (e.g. on psalmody), but most entries are less than a page (e.g. burden, precentor). Bibliographies at almost all entries plus a full index to persons and topics referred to in the entries. A distinctive contribution.
Dictionary of Sects, Heresies, Ecclesiastical Parties and Schools of Religious Thought, edited by John Henry Blunt (Gale Research Co., 656 pp., $28.50). As the title suggests, this is a reprint. Originally published in 1874 in England. While treating the whole range of church history, the work is tilted toward English movements. The editor’s strongly establishmentarian views and prejudices come through loud and clear. Discerning users can find a lot of helpful information together with abundant illustrations of how not to write history.
