musings on family history

I love history. Also family history.

If you look at our family pictures, is pretty obvious that we don’t have that much genetic diversity. But we have a little.

I have some slight Cherokee heritage. It’s only 1/64th, so our children are a mere 1/128th, not much at all. But it is still worth noting and celebrating.

One of my great-great-great-great-grandmothers was Cherokee. According to family lore she married a French fellow who had fled France for reasons of health — either because of his Huguenot faith or, if he fled during the French Revolution, because his family belonged to the lesser nobility; I forget when in the 1700s he came over. I wish I knew the story about how they met.

I do know he was a Huguenot (a French Protestant). The Huguenots often faced persecution, and sometimes massacre, in Roman Catholic France. I also know that his family claimed to be descended from Charlemagne. That claim may well have been mere pretension, but it wouldn’t have made the family popular during the Reign of Terror. So I’m also at least 1/64th French.

One of their children married one of my Scots-Irish ancestors; they were my great-great-great-grandparents. Once we get to the grandchildren of the Cherokee and French couple I start to know more family history.

So my great-great-grandfather William Robert McCracken (he went by “W.R.”) was a quarter Cherokee. He was early a part of the Restoration Movement in the 1800s. A farmer in Indiana, he gave a section of his land to the Monrovia Christian Church when they were sufficiently organized to want a building. The building on that plot now houses a Methodist congregation; at some point before my birth the Monrovia CC grew out of their space, and another farmer just outside of the village gave them land to build a larger structure.

The Restoration Movement — which resulted in today’s Christian Churches, Churches of Christ, and Disciples of Christ — was born out of the Second Great Awakening. Its three most famous early leaders were Barton W. Stone, Thomas Campbell, and Alexander Campbell.

Interestingly, Barton Stone was fluent in the Cherokee language and would often preach in that language. (I’ve read that he knew five different Native American languages, but cannot provide citations for that. There are extant manuscripts of Stone’s sermons in Cherokee, though written phonetically in Latin script. Stone was preaching in Cherokee before Sequoyah’s newly devised Cherokee script was adopted.) It’s statistically unlikely that WR (who may not have spoken the language), his parents, or his Cherokee grandmother heard Barton Stone preach in the Cherokee language. But it’s still an interesting connection.

Barton Stone was the minister of the Cane Ridge church in Kentucky during the Cane Ridge Revival, which was part of the Second Great Awakening. An early opponent of slavery who manumitted the two slaves he had inherited, he reflected that “This revival cut the bonds of many poor slaves!” At Cane Ridge and other churches influenced by Stone at this period, there was no distinction based on skin color or ethnicity. Those of African heritage were listed on membership roles alongside those of European heritage — a novelty at that point in American history.

I don’t know whether my great-great-grandfather ever met Stone or the Campbells. But I do know that he shared Stone’s views on the abhorrent evils of slavery. In the 1860s, he joined a regiment from Indiana. One of his motivations was the abolition of slavery. He was willing to fight, and perhaps to die, to “declare freedom to the captives.” He served with distinction as a second lieutenant and the aide de camp to General Benjamin Harrison, who later served as America’s 23rd President.

WR was not a warmonger, however. He had seen the horrors of war first hand. Many years later his son, my great-grandfather Benjamin Harrison McCracken, was eager to join Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders to go to Cuba to drive the Spanish out of the New World and liberate the Cubans. WR put his foot down. You think that war is all romance (using that term in the 19th century sense of “adventure”) and glory, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen. War is hell, and I don’t want any son of mine to see what I’ve seen. Perhaps he was also thinking that he didn’t want any son of his to do what he had done? I don’t know — to my knowledge, that’s the closest he ever got to speaking of his war experiences. My family still has his service revolver … I wonder what stories it could tell? I wonder if I would want to hear them … . Regardless, Benjamin did not go to war in Cuba.

I know a funny story about great-grandpa Ben and a corny joke from the 1800s. He married later in life than was then common. When he started courting Miss Minnie Cain, they would promenade up and down the street of their small town as they conversed. His friends guffawed, “Lookie there at ole Ben. He’s so old, he’s awalking with a Cain!” <cue laugh track>

My mother has a letter that WR wrote to his son Benjamin. Apparently a later than average courtship and marriage weren’t the only way he was a bit slow to “settle down.” He had at that point only toyed with the Christian faith. He knew the good news about Jesus is true, but he hadn’t settled down and made a commitment. It’s about time for you to man-up, son, and make a decision. (Well, maybe that’s how he would’ve written today. Over a century ago, his language was a little different.) At least twice, Benjamin listened to his father. He didn’t go to war with Roosevelt, and sometime after reception of this letter, he did accept Jesus as Lord. He was baptized and followed Jesus until his death. The letter must have made a difference, for he kept it and my grandma (his daughter) kept it after him.  Sometime around 1918–1919, Ben & Minnie moved back to Monrovia, Indiana.  As members of Hazelwood Christian Church, Ben taught an adult sunday school class for years.  My mom has both WR’s letter to Benjamin (her grandfather) and the bible from which Benjamin taught.

Can a girl grow up to be a theologian?

Of course! Those who think otherwise are either confused about the nature of theology or are just wrong.

On definitions of theology:

“If you are a theologian, you will pray truly.
And if you pray truly, you are a theologian.”

— Evagrius of Pontus (345–399), “On Prayer,” The Philokalia, vol. 1.

 For our Greek-nerd friends, here’s the original:
 «Εἰ θεολόγος εἶ, προσεύξῃ ἀληθῶς, καὶ εἰ άληθῶς προσεύξῃ, θεολόγος εἶ.»

 — Εὐάγριος ὁ Ποντικός

Thus, a theologian (théologien OR théologienne,* equally), is one who, having spoken well with God, is enabled to speak well — and teach well — about God and the things of God.

A theologian is not merely someone with facility in articulating academic jargon.

Today’s théologiennes are part of a vast cloud of witnesses. Here are a some of my favorites (mostly arranged chronologically).

  • Mary the First Evangelist and the Apostle to the Apostles (NT period)
  • Phillip the Evangelist’s four preaching daughters (NT period)
  • Junia the Apostle (NT period)
  • Priscilla the teacher of the apostle Apollos (NT period)
  • Lois the teacher (and grandmother) of the apostle Timothy (NT period)
  • Eunice the teacher (and mother) of the apostle Timothy (NT period)
  • Perpetua (martyred 203; Carthage)
  • Felicity (martyred 203; Carthage)
  • Macrina the Elder (before 270 – c. 340; Cappadocia)
  • Macrina the Younger (c. 330 – 379; Cappadocia and Pontus)
  • Nina the Equal to the Apostles and the Enlightener of Georgia (aka Nino; c. 296 – c. 338 or 340; Cappadocia and Georgia)
  • Marcella (325–410; Rome)
  • Melania the Elder (c. 350 – either before 410 or c. 417; Spain, Rome, Jerusalem)
  • Melania the Younger (c. 383 – 439; Rome, Jerusalem)
  • Paula of Rome (347 – 404; Rome, Bethlehem)
  • Hildegard of Bingen (1098 – 1179; Germany)
  • Hadewijch of Antwerp (1200s; The Netherlands)
  • Mechthild of Magdeburg (c. 1260 – c. 1282/94; Germany)
  • Julian of Norwich (1342 – c. 1423; England)
  • Catherine of Siena (1347 – 1380; Italy)
  • Catherine of Genoa (1447 – 1510; Italy)
  • Teresa of Avila (1515 – 1582; Spain)
  • Pandita Ramabai Sarasvati (usually just known as “Pandita Ramabai”; 1858 – 922; India)
  • Dorothy L. Sayers (1893 – 1957; England)
  • Mercy Amba Oduyoye (b. 1934; Ghana)
  • Marianne Katoppo (943 – 2007; Indonesia)
  • Gillian M. Bediako (living; Ghana)
  • Philomena Njeri Mwaura (living; Kenya)
  • Dana L. Robert (living; America)
  • Musa Dube (aka Musa Wenkosi Dube Shomanah, b. 1964; Botswana)
  • Lynn H. Cohick (living; America)
  • Michelle Lee-Barnewall (living; America)
  • Wanjiru M Gitau (living; Kenya)
  • Cynthia Long Westfall (living; America)

And of course this list would not be complete without the inclusion my very favorite théologienne:

  • Ruth Barron (living; America and Kenya)

The discerning reader will note that this is list is quite short with large gaps, both chronologically and geographically. I attribute that to the limitations of my own education. Also note that this is a list of favorites, not an exhaustive list of all whom I’ve read. Note that Macrina the Elder and Macrina the Younger were responsible for discipling two the other three “Great Cappadocians” — Macrina the Younger’s younger brothers Basil the Great (of Cappadocian Caesarea) and Gregory of Nyssa; she also played an important role in the formation of Gregory the Theologian of Nazianzen. Historically speaking, those three men were largely responsible for the survival of Nicene Orthodoxy. But the Nicene Orthodoxy of those three men is due to those two women, the two Macrinas. (Moreover, those godly men recognized publicly that they owed their very faith to the teaching of those two women.) Also of special note is Nina, to whom the ancient Church really did bestow two lofty titles: “Equal to the Apostles” and “Enlightener of Georgia.” She was nearly singlehandedly responsible for the conversion of an entire country.

As Mercy Amba Oduyoye has explained, using an Akan proverb, “a bird has two wings.” A bird with one wing is necessarily grounded. A bird with only one strong wing may well fly in circles. If the Church is to soar, she most exercise both wings equally — she must give voice (and ear) to both men and women.

* In French, “theologian” is translated as either théologien (masculine) or théologienne (feminine); the language (and ancient Christian tradition) recognize that theologians — including teaching theologians — may be either male or female.


This post is dedicated to AlitzahHannahgailEliana, Ahaviah, and Shalviah.

What is “theology”?

As a missionary- and theological educator, I (Joshua) spend a lot of time in my study.  Today I  am spending some time with Prof. E. Bôlaji Idowu (1913-1993, Nigeria 🇳🇬). I was delighted to find this gem:

… a theologian who thinks that he is an intellectualist is only wasting his time. A theologian who is worthy of the name is first and foremost a man of prayer, waiting upon God for a message, God’s own message.

— E. Bôlaji Idowu, God, chapter 1 in Biblical Revelation and African Beliefs, 17-29, ed. Kwesi A. Dickson and Paul Ellingworth (Lutterworth Press / United Society for Christian Literature, 1969), p. 23.

I want to note this assertion, with which I agree:

A theologian who is worthy of the name

is first and foremost a man or woman of prayer.

As a historian, I am immediately struck by how much this echoes one of my favorite patristic quotations, Evagrios of Pontus defining what a theology is and what a theologian is.  But I’ve written about that elsewhere.
So let me ask us:  are we people of prayer?

book review: Forgiveness and Justice

Forgiveness and Justice are incompatible, right?  Forgiving someone means foregoing justice, doesn’t it?  Isn’t it just cognitively impossible to think of pursuing justice and forgiving at the same time?  That’s how the popular thinking goes … but that’s not biblical thinking at all.
Lamentation (and even anger) at injustice, the seeking of justice, and the practice of forgiveness are all closely intertwined.  W. E. B. Du Bois (1868-1963) included in his book Souls of Black Folk a chapter entitled “Songs of Sorrow.”  In one place he astutely notes that such songs of sorrow (such as the “Negro Spirituals”) offer hope, “a faith in the ultimate justice of things.”
Bryan Maier has written an excellent study that explores this relationship between lament for wrongs suffered and hope for justice.  We can’t over-recommend his Forgiveness and Justice:  A Christian Approach (2017).  At just 160 pages, it’s a fairly quick read.
There’s nearly a cottage industry of books on forgiveness.  Most contemporary teachings on forgiveness follow one of five models (though there are others) —
  • therapeutic forgiveness (the victim should forgive for the sake of the victim’s well-being, the state of unforgiveness only causes further injury to the victim, and may cause the victim to risk damnation),
  • forensic forgiveness (forgiveness as a transaction — the cancelling of debt, granting clemency from deserved punishment),
  • relational forgiveness (transactional forgiveness plus possible reconciliation of a ruptured relationship),
  • unilateral forgiveness (forgiveness is a one-sided action, all on the side of the victim, and it doesn’t matter whether the perpetrator repents), or
  • dispositional forgiveness (having a forgiving or conciliatory spirit).
All of these have some merit but tend to either try to say too much or too little.
Offering an alternative (and more robustly biblical) course, Maier lays out three boundaries delimiting forgiveness.
  • “Boundary #1: Forgiveness Is a Response to a Moral Violation”
    • “Forgiveness, in order to make sense, must presuppose that an offense has been committed; otherwise there would be nothing to forgive.”  Forgiveness is only required when there has been a moral violation, an offense that is inherently unrighteous/unjust.
  • “Boundary #2: Forgiveness Is Not a Cognitive Reframe”
    • This cognitive behaviorism may have its place, within appropriate limits, to offer a fresh perspective — life has handed me a bunch of lemons?  No problem, I’ll just make lemonade!  Clearly, perception does shape behavior.  Changing our perception can help us not to get stuck in resentment.
    • But forgiveness is something different.  Defining forgiveness in this way can blur the lines of reality, foster gaslighting, and confuse such concepts as
      • condoning, excusing, justifying, and showing mercy.
    •  Often cognitive reframing can ultimately call evil, good — see, God can bring good out of that situation, so what happened to you was really good after all!, and you should praise God for this abuse!  (NB:  We — Joshua and Ruth — have both, separately, heard this type of thing many times over the years.)
    • As a result, this type of focus ultimately makes victims more vulnerable to future acts of injustice and harm.
  • “Boundary #3: Forgiveness Is More Than Empathy”
    • Maier notes that “many forgiveness authors suggest some kind of empathy with the perpetrator as a means of ameliorating the resentment” which a victim feels as a result of the moral violation he or she suffered.  Of course we know that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”  But we must also recognize that “that if the victim’s sin cancels out the sin of the perpetrator, then the whole basis for justice collapses. If we are always guilty in some kind of morally equivalent way, then we can never charge our offenders.  If a victim must be totally free of any sinful behaviors or thoughts before the offender can be addressed, justice would never occur.  In the classic passage on confronting a brother (Matt. 18:15–20), the victim’s sin (which we know is present from the rest of Scripture) is never mentioned.”
Maier then outlines “four contours of a Christian approach to forgiveness,” asking a series of questions that we must answer to reach a biblical definition of forgiveness on the foundation of the three boundaries listed above.
  • “How does God forgive?”
  • “How does healing relate to forgiveness?”
  • “Is forgiveness primarily self-centered or other-centered?”
  • “Is forgiveness active or passive?”
After examining (in chapter 3) the relationship between resentment and repentance, he explores each of those four questions.  Reminiscent of Bonhoeffer’s discussion of “cheap grace” in The Cost of Discipleship, Maier explains the hidden costs of the “cheap forgiveness” that many in the Church insist upon.  With cheap forgiveness, because the offender has neither confessed nor repented, “there is no agreement that what was done was wrong” and the victim remains unsafe, and true reconciliation is impossible.  It is appropriate to address ongoing resentment harbored by a victim once the offender has confessed and demonstrated signs of repentance, including where necessary some type of restitution to restore justice.  And so, because “trust is the basis of true unilateral healing for victims,” if such “resentment poses a barrier to genuine forgiveness,” this should be dealt with.  But often “resentment is merely an appropriate emotional reaction to sin yet to be addressed.”  In such circumstances, “healing can only come by means of some assurance that one day justice will be complete and final.”  This is not a desire for revenge and vengeance borne out of bitterness and rancorous resentment, but a godly and natural desire for justice and righteousness.
Our scholar friends will recall that both the Old Testament Hebrew root צדק (tz-d-q) and the New Testament Greek rootδικ (-dik-) are inclusive of our English ideas of “righteousness” and “justice.”  There is no justice in the midst of unrighteousness, and no righteousness in injustice.
Of course, it is worth mentioning that it was after Israel named their daughters “Miriam”, or themselves “Mara” — names that mean “bitter” or “bitterness” — that God sent savior-redeemers (Moses, Boaz, and ultimately Jesus).  God in God’s wisdom acted salvifically after God’s people recognized their bitter lot.
Maier has chapters on “authentic repentance”, “trusting God for justice”, “results of forgiveness”, and “forgiveness and justice in counseling.”  Here is his exposition of what the simple statement “I forgive you” should mean:
Because of your repentance and the facts that the price for your sin has been paid (by God), the effects of your sin against me have been substantially healed, and your repentance has stopped the previously hostile messages to me, your sin can no longer damage me. Since you are taking responsibility for your sin, I no longer have to make up distorted reasons why it happened, and that is good for both of us. Finally, our relationship is now different and I agree to treat you in light of this new relationship.
We (Ruth and Joshua) recommend this book — Forgiveness and Justice: A Christian Approach — to any pastor, preacher, counselor, or missionary in any context.  It’s practical, theologically robust but in everyday language, and firmly grounded in Scripture.
For that matter, we recommend it to anyone
  • who struggles with forgiveness,
  • who struggles with justice,
  • who is passionate about justice, or
  • or who is passionate about forgiveness.
We guess that covers most of us.
Note:  We have this book in paper and in Kindle (it’s also available for Nook).  We didn’t include page numbers as I (Joshua) was referring for the quotes to the digital copy, which sadly doesn’t include “real” page numbers.  Bryan Maier’s Forgiveness and Justice is available from Christian Book Distributors, Joseph Beth, BooksAMillion, Barnes & Noble, or wherever fine books are sold.

love and action

Proverbs are delightful. They offer a window into a culture.  I especially enjoy pairs of proverbs which seem contradictory. One of my favorite pairs is found in Proverbs 26.4-5.  I’ll quote in Hebrew for our nerdy friends (and because Hebrew fonts just look cool) and in English.
אַל־תַּ֣עַן כְּ֭סִיל כְּאִוַּלְתּ֑וֹ פֶּֽן־תִּשְׁוֶה־לּ֥וֹ גַם־אָֽתָּה׃
עֲנֵ֣ה כְ֭סִיל כְּאִוַּלְתּ֑וֹ פֶּן־יִהְיֶ֖ה חָכָ֣ם בְּעֵינָֽיו׃
Do not answer a fool according to his folly,
lest you yourself also be like him.
Answer a fool according to his folly,
lest he be wise in his own estimation. (NET)
A few months ago, I learned a similar pair of proverbs in Maa:
Ebaiki ninyor, nimiret.
Mebaiki ninyor, nimiret.
For those interested in such things, here’s the IPA phonetic pronunciation:
Ɛbáɨ́kɨ nɨ́nyɔ̄r, nímīrēt.
Mɛbáɨ́kɨ nɨ́nyɔ̄r, nímīrēt.
Perhaps you love him/her, yet you don’t help him/her.
It cannot happen that you love him/her and you don’t help him/her.
(My list of Maa pronouns includes over 200. This, of course, does not count the innumerable constructions which are possible through the use of pronominal prefixes and infixes. But Maa doesn’t distinguish between he/she/it — “ninye” does triple duty.  In these proverbs, ninye isn’t used.  Instead, pronominal prefixes/infixes indicate both subject and object.)
The initial verb in each of these proverbs is interesting; ɛbáɨ́kɨ / ebaiki is literally “it is reached” or “it is arrived at.” Idiomatically it is “maybe” or “perhaps”. The pronominal 3rd person prefix ɛ- is replaced with mɛ- in the second one. Depending on tone, this is either negative or subjunctive; here it is negative. Thus ɛbáɨ́kɨ / ebaiki introduces something that is conceivably possible whereas mɛbáɨ́kɨ / mebaiki indicates that what follows is inconceivable and impossible.
Ebaiki ninyor, nimiret. Perhaps you love him/her, yet you don’t help him/her.
Within human relationships, it is quite imaginable that we profess love for someone and yet there is no actual demonstration of love.  We say “we love you” but don’t help the supposed beloved, and in fact we often harm instead (whether by sin of commission or sin of omission).
Mebaiki ninyor, nimiret.  It cannot happen that you love him/her and you don’t help him/her.
Thus our actions (or inactions) will belie our words.  “The proof is in the pudding,” as the old English proverb states.
But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.”
Show me your faith without works
and I will show you faith by my works.”

(James 2.18, NET)
Love does no harm to its neighbor.
Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.
(Romans 13.10 NIV-1984)
If we claim to love while either actively harming or simply refusing to assist, our actions prove that we do not, in fact love.
Mebaiki ninyor, nimiret.  It is not possible to love in merely word or sentiment.  Love helps those who are loved.
Beloved, let us love one another.
(1 John 4.7)

Lenana’s Oreteti

Lenana was a well-known Laibon (oloiboni, “ritual expert”) of the Maasai, b. sometime between 1860 and 1870 (he was circumcised in 1882, perhaps at the age of nineteen? … traditionally, Maasai did not keep track of their birthdates, but only of when they were circumcized) and dying in 1911.  The name Lenana means “of the gentleness.”  An important Maasai leader during the colonialization of East Africa by Great Britain, he is better known among the Maasai themselves by the other form of his name, Olonana (“he of gentleness”).

Lenana is a fairly common Maasai boy’s name. I’ve not heard (though I don’t know everything) of anyone else named Ololana, though.

The term, as an adjective, is a term of endearment —
Li alashe lai lenana is “O my brother of tenderness
Lo ltau lai lelana is “O my heart of tenderness, the dynamic equivalent of “Sweetheart in English.  I (Joshua) often address Ruth with the short form, lo ltau lai (O my heart!).

I probably hear the adjective more often than the name.  For “sweetheart” more literally, you could say oltau lemelok (or lo ltau lemelok in the vocative).

The feminine equivalent of lenana (pronounced, by the way, like LAY-NAH-NAH, for English-speakers) is nanana.  I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard it, though.  Namelok ([feminine thing or person] which-is-sweet) is more common as an adjective for females.

It is said that upon his death, Olonana’s corpse was secretly moved from his homestead (enkang) in Kiserian to this site, where his body was accorded the rare privilege of burial, marked by planting an oreteti sapling. (Historically, corpses were laid out on the ground and hyenas come to eat the body at night.  Burial is a rare salutatory honor in traditional Maa culture.) The oreteti is a sacred tree of ceremonial significance in Maasai culture. Oreteti trees are places of sanctuary and holiness.

Oreteti refers to fig trees:  ficus natalensis, ficus sycomorus, ficus gnaphalocarpa, ficus mucosa.  It is one of four types of trees considered sacred or holy by the Maasai.  Note the smooth green leaves (even in the dry season), and also that there are no thorns.

Lenana’s Oreteti:
(click pictures for a larger images)

This oreteti tree is now nearly 110 years old, and is an important landmark — geographically and culturally. The Oreteti AIC (Africa Inland Church) congregation has its building a short walk down the mountain from here, taking its name from this tree.

(Photos taken on 1 October 2019.  I was meeting with Benson ole Kurraru, the pastor of Oreteti AIC.  He also oversees AIC church planting and ministerial training in the Olalaiser area of Kajiado county.)

Language is Fun

Maa (the language of the Maasai people) is delightfully reflexive.  For any of our friends who are language nerds, here’s a grammatical excursus.

Where English has simply “of“, Maa has six different prepositions.
So “o” indicates that what follows is grammatically masculine, “e” indicates that what follows is grammatically feminine, “oo” indicates that what follows is plural (without reference to grammatical gender), the prefix “L” indicates that what precedes is grammatically masculine, and the absence of the prefix “L” indicates that what precedes is grammatically feminine.

Are you confused yet?

Here are a few examples.
entito (daughter, girl) and enkitok (women, wives) are, naturally, grammatically feminine. (The plural forms are, respectively, intoyie and inkituaak.)  Note that the initial vowels will be dropped when following one of the prepositions for “of.” Thus
entito e nkitok (the daughter of the woman)
intoyie e nkitok (the daughters of the woman)
entito oo nkituaak (the girl of the women)
intoyie oo nkituaak (the daughters of the women).

olayioni (boy, son) and olpayian (man, elder, husband) are, of course, grammatically masculine. (The plural forms are, respectively, ilayiok and ilpayiani.)  Thus
olayioni lo lpayian (the son of the man)
ilayiok lo lpayian (the sons of the man)
olayioni loo lpayiani (the boy of the men)
ilayiok loo lpayiani (the sons of the men)
entito o lpayian (the daughter of the man)
intoyie o lpayian (the daughters of the man)
intoyie oo lpayiani (the girls of the men)
olayioni le nkitok (the son of the woman)
ilayiok le nkitok (the sons of the woman)
olayioni loo nkituaak (the boy of the women)
ilayiok loo nkituaak (the sons of the women)

It’s actually quite logical and therefore simpler than you may think.

But here’s something that threw me for a loop back in 2007 when we were just learning.

Followers of Jesus” is ilasujak le Yesu. “Followers of the Lord” is ilasujak lo Laitoriani. Again, the “le” and “lo” are equivalent to the English preposition “of.”

To review:
LO” and “LE” —
• the -L- indicates that what precedes (in this case ilasujak / followers) is grammatically masculine (the absence of this consonant indicates that what precedes is grammatically feminine — thus “inkasujak e Yesu” is “the [female] followers of Jesus“);
• the -O- indicates that what follows (in this case Olaitoriani / the Lord; the initial -o- of the noun drops off for linguistic reasons) is grammatically masculine; and
• the -E- indicates that what follows (in this case Yesu / Jesus) is grammatically feminine.

Wait.  What?  Jesus is feminine, a woman?!

Nope, of course not.

But the Maa word for “name” — enkarna — is grammatically feminine. Thus as a class, in Maa *all personal names* are *grammatically* feminine, even though there is no confusion in the language between male and female names. (For example: Nashipai is a female name, Enchipai is the male equivalent; Lemayian is a male name, Namayian is the female counterpart.)

Both male names and female names are *grammatically* feminine.  Thus “ilasujak lo Yesu” (or for that matter, “illasujak lo Joshua“) is just grammatical nonsense.  It must be “ilasujak le Yesu” (or “le Joshua“) to be correct.  No Maasai thinks that Jesus is a female or feminine, just as I am male and masculine.

Thus while I am an olpayian, my children (inkera) could be referred to as either:
inkera o lpayian (the son of the man), OR as
inkera e Lemayian (the children of Lemayian).

(Lemayian, “the one of blessing,” is my Maasai name.)

This was a great puzzlement for me before I figured out what was going on. Because enkarna (name) happens to be grammatically feminine, all personal names are grammatically feminine, irrespective of the masculinity or femininity of the subject of the name.


«Εἰ θεολόγος εἶ, προσεύξῃ ἀληθῶς,
καὶ εἰ άληθῶς προσεύξῃ, θεολόγος εἶ
— Εὐάγριος ὁ Ποντικός
“If you are a theologian, you will pray truly.
And if you pray truly, you are a theologian.” 
Evagrios of Pontus (345–399)
On Prayer 61 (the translation in The Philokalia, vol. 1)
I’m forever grateful to Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350-428) for introducing me to this text of Evagrios.  Too often “Theology” (Θεολογία / Theologia) means, in practice, “academic language about God which is hard to understand.”  But Theodore and Evagrios were among the first to teach me that a theologian is one who speaks (or writes) well about God BECAUSE he or she is in the habit of speaking well WITH God.  Our theology, our God-talk, should proceed from our talks with God.  Our theorizing should rather be contemplation (θεωρία / theoria; Latin:  contemplatio) of whom God has reveled Godself to be in our own stories and (crucially) in the stories handed down to us in the Scriptures.
(On that last point, just so no one misses it:  if not grounded in the texts of Scripture, our contemplation is not Christian contemplation, our prayer is not Christian prayer, and our theology is not Christian theology.)  
“Theology” (or at least, good theology) is never academic speculation clothed in what Ruth calls “Emperor’s New Clothes” language. Theology is speaking well about God which arises out of our having well-spent time speaking with God. 
It is worth noting that the Church has only granted the title “Theologian” to three individuals.  In the first two centuries of the Church, only one person ranked the title “The Theologian” — John the Evangelist (the Apostle who wrote the Gospel and the Letters).  It wasn’t until the Nicene period that anyone else ranked the title:  Gregory Nazianzen (Γρηγόριος ὁ Ναζιανζηνός; c. 329-390), the writer of hymns and theological poetry.  Next was Symeon the New Theologian (Συμεὼν ὁ Νέος Θεολόγος; 949–1022).  Each of these men spoke well about God because they had spoken well with God, and their discourses fleshed out their conversions to Christ within their particular cultural contexts.
Theologizing is the attempt — by individuals or communities — to make sense of the conversion (turning to Christ) of social life, family life, and intellectual life, within a given cultural and linguistic context.  Andrew F. Walls notes that “Theology does not arise from the study or the library even if it can be prosecuted there.  It arises from Christian life and activity, from the need to make Christian choices, to think in a Christian way.”*
As christians, we are not proselytes but converts; the harsh words of Jesus about proselytization (Matthew 23.15) are not for nothing. The Jerusalem Council made it clear that Gentiles don’t have to become Jewish to follow Jesus (nor do Jews have to become Goyim who eat pork to follow Jesus; Africans don’t have to become American, etc.). Christian conversion is the “turning to Christ what is already there.”**
Conversion has at least three categories in which we must turn to Christ what is there:  family life, social life, and intellectual life.  In this process, of course some new things will be picked up as necessary and some old things will be dropped as incompatible with the Gospel — but many things will be retained. Those things which are retained are reoriented and redirected toward Jesus.
Theologizing is the natural result of processing conversion of these areas — family life, social life, and intellectual life — and arises out of time spent with God. Fancy academic jargon is not theology, even if it is often (mistakenly) called that. “If you are a theologian, you will pray truly. And if you pray truly, you are a theologian.” 
I will add a corollary for my preacher friends: “and if you become a theologian, you will preach truly.”
* Andrew F. Walls, Crossing Cultural Frontiers:  Studies in the History of World Christianity (Maryknoll, NY:  Orbis Books, 2017), 74.
** Another phrase of Professor Walls, whose writings I highly recommend

Why your brand matters …

Branding is important.  This is why Madison Avenue (the global center of the advertising industry in New York City) is a center of influence and of wealth.  This is why the hosting television network charges millions of dollars for a thirty second commercial during the Super Bowl (the championship game of professional american football).  A cowboy in America’s Old West — or a Maasai olchekut even today — could identify the owner of the herd with a mere at a glance at a cow’s branding mark.

(Note:  the Maa word olchekut is usually translated as “shepherd” but is used of cowherds and goatherds as well.)

Branding can work for weal or for woe.  If a Maasai teen-aged boy so much as flinches when he is circumcised, he is branded as a coward for the rest of his life.  In the 1985 film Back to the Future, George McFly suffered the effects his whole life of having been branded as a weakling as a youth, until his son Marty altered the present by changing the past.  Currently nearly half of Americans are horrified at the prospect of their country being branded as “Trump Nation.”  Yet nearly half of Americans were terrified at the possibility of their country being branded by the “progressivism” of another Clinton presidential administration.  Branding matters.

Countries in Africa (including Kenya) are often branded as backwards, undeveloped, and primitive.  This is often done by NGOs and even by missions agencies as they are seeking financial support for various developmental projects.  Sadly, this branding often first creates and then perpetuates a cycle of dependency.  But this is often done by comparing the poorest of those in the slums with those comfortably middle-class (economically speaking) from suburbs and cities in the West.

Many of you have seen pictures of endemic poverty in African slums in Nairobi (Kenya), Lagos (Nigeria), or Johannesburg (South Africa) and been told “this is Africa.”  Others have seen the perpetual corruption and impunity of dictators like Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe and been told “this is Africa.”  Those of you at least our age remember the popular song “We Are the World” and pictures of emaciated Ethiopian children with the swollen bellies of starvation and think “this is Africa.”  Still others hear “Africa” and think only of stories of genocide (e.g., Rwanda in 1994), perpetual civil wars (e.g., Democratic Republic of the Congo, DRC; formerly called Zaïre), Boko Haram’s atrocities against christians (mostly in Nigeria), social unrest and violent atrocities after a contested election (e.g., here in Kenya after the December 2007 election), or even just of “zoo animals.”

But how many Americans would like the USA to be characterized, branded, only by images of Old West gunfighters, or urban rioters, or the terrible morals in so many Hollywood movies, or the ostentatious conspicuous consumption of wealthy celebrities, or the gruesome practices of abortionist Kermit Gosnell, or by the divisiveness of “the other side” during the 2016 elections?  Most Americans would protest, “that is not my America.”  And so for those of you who do not live in Africa, we invite you to take a second look with new eyes at the various countries of this continent.

It is as important to celebrate glorious success as it is to bring needs to light.  So when we host visitors here in Kenya, we want them to see the rich texture and vibrancy of Kenyan life.  We’ll visit a church in the Kibera slum, talk with successful Nairobi entrepreneurs and artisans, swing by a world-class Nairobi shopping mall, sit with small-town church members in their large stone church building, and drink tea in a remotely rural Maasai hut.

Here is one example of positive branding for Kenya.  It’s a music video / commercial for Safaricom, the largest telecom and micro-finance service provider in East Africa.  It is a celebration of Kenyan life, culture, and people.  Like the best advertising, it is not pushing a product so much as celebrating a vision for life.  I invite you to watch and listen to this short video (less than two minutes).  The lyrics (in kiSwahili) and translation (in English) follow below.  This is the Kenya we know and love.  These are the Kenyans with whom we partner.  Yes, there is still need, which this branding doesn’t depict.  But in this season of America’s Thanksgiving, celebrate with us the greatness of Kenya’s people.


Kitu gani chatuunganisha,
….. What is it that unites us,
Mume kwa mke, ndugu na dada,
…. husband to wife, brother and sister
Marafiki tunaowajali,
…..  friends whom we care about,
Washiriki hata makazini,
….. colleagues with whom we work?

Jambo la muhimu,
Kwa hamu na gamu,
Twatumaini taifa,
ndoto, zote zetu
 ….. The most important thing is
 ….. earnest anticipation of
….. a nation which carries
….. all of our dreams.

Ungaana (ungaana), Pendana (pendana)
….. Let’s unite together (let’s unite),
Let’s love each other (let’s love)
Tumeungana twaonekana,
….. We have united, we have seen that
Tuko huru tuko sawa,
….. We are free, we are equal

Ungaana (ungaana), Pendana (pendana)
….. Let’s unite together (let’s unite),
Let’s love each other (let’s love)
Dunia ijue tuko sawa,
….. Let the world know that we are equal
Twaunganisha ndoto zeta
….. We bring together our dreams

Ungaana kwa upendo
….. Let us unite together in love
Ungaana kwa upendo
…. Let us unite together in love
Ni Upendo watuunganisha,
…..  It is love which unites us
Mume kwa mke, ndugu na dada
….. Husband to wife, brother and sister.




the corruption of scoundrels

“Now the sons of Eli were worthless men.  They did not know the LORD.”
(1 Samuel 2.12, ESV)

The word here translated as “worthless men” is בְלִיָּעַל (beliyya’al). Other major english translations render it as “wicked men” or “scoundrels.”  I’m currently enjoying a “Through the Bible” podcast in the NKJV.  Listening this week, I was struck by its translation of this verse:

“Now the sons of Eli were corrupt; they did not know the LORD.”

We know that corruption is rampant.  Here in Kenya, most of the paved road nearest to our house isn’t really paved at all.  A mere half an inch (or less) of asphalt on dirt doesn’t last long between the heavy truck traffic and the heavier rains.  But there are some folks with nice, big houses that were paid for with funds intended for the roads.  Meanwhile in American politics, the two current presidential front-runners both have a long history of benefiting from and fostering corruption.

While it is easy to become frustrated with the corruption that daily has a negative impact on us, this verse clearly reminds me that politics isn’t the answer.

Corruption is simply the symptom.  The illness is not knowing Yahweh.