10.30.2007

Is God Our Adversary?

Let me make a confession to begin with. I don't particularly like the Bible. I find many of its stories difficult to understand and then hard to accept when I do understand them. Take the story cited in this weeks lesson; Abraham's almost-sacrifice of Isaac. The thought that God would command child-sacrifice troubles me beyond measure!

Now, let me make another confession. I can't get away from the Bible no matter how much I would like to completely reject it. For some reason I am compelled to struggle with it despite all my critical objections to its content. I'm like Jacob wrestling with the angel and refusing to let go "unless you bless me." And yet I find that like the angel the biblical text often leaves me limping and yet blessed. Or should I say the God of the text leaves me limping and blessed!

So let me limp along here with a few observations on the story of Abraham's almost-sacrifice of his son Isaac that I hope might be a blessing. First, I would love to be able to view this as just a big mistake on the part of Abraham. Maybe he misunderstood what God was calling him to do. I mean, to think that God would command child-sacrifice is quite terrifying. And the reality is that Abraham came out of a religious culture that is known to have practiced human ritual sacrifice on behalf of its blood-thirsty gods.

Although I'm not really sure what this story truly teaches us about God it does contain profound truth. The one thing I do grasp about this story is that Abraham clearly experienced God as an adversary. As Abraham saw it God was threatening to take away the very thing (the son of the promise) that gave meaning to his entire existence. The birth of Isaac was after all the culmination of Abraham's faith journey.

The truly amazing thing about this story is that Abraham continued to trust God. Somehow in spite of what he experienced as the dead-end of his God-sponsored hopes at the hands of God Abraham believed. This strikes me as comparable to Job's stunning affirmation that "though he slay me yet will I trust in him." And Habakkuk's ridiculous assertion, "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord." These outrageous expressions of faith fly in the face of all you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours theology (as does the whole book of Hosea). Such audacious faith makes the calculating logic of the young Jacob look paltry, "If God will be with me and will watch over me . . . then the Lord will be my God."

Honestly, it is rather easy to trust in the God that blesses and gives and empowers and encriches. The much more difficult, all-but-impossible, thing is to trust in the God that we experience as our adversary. If we let them, I think that Abraham and Job can move us by faith beyond the God-that-takes-and-crushes toward the God-that-gives-blesses-and-provides!

10.23.2007

The Power of Our Pain

The idea that God needs our pain to make us pure is more than a bit sadistic. Christianity is here dangerously close to the bloodthirsty god Huitzilopochtli that demanded human sacrifices in exchange for victory and prosperity for the Aztec people.

A bloodthirsty god-image stands behind all "this is for your own good" theology (the writings of Alice Miller and Eugen Drewermann have opened my eyes to this twisted theology). Such theology is similar to a kind of thinking that is actually characteristic of abused children.

Abused children tend to internalize their abuse by blaming themselves and excusing the abuser. Sadly, a lot of theology has this same effect in a spiritual sense by teaching that pain is the punishment for our sins and the means by which God purifies us from evil. Such an idea is really no better than the twisted logic of the abused child that says, "Daddy beats me because I am bad."

Although I am more than a bit suspicious of the idea that suffering makes us pure I also see some therapeutic value in it. In a positive sense suffering actually motivates the quest to understand life. If I can make some sense out of what I am going through then the pain becomes more bearable.

Maybe the belief that suffering can purify us is a way that we attempt to regain power in a situation that terrifies us because it reveals our powerlessness. If I can't control the situation then at least I can maintain my psychological mastery by figuring out what is happening and possibly even why it is happening.

On a theological level I see an even deeper link between pain and purity in the Exodus story of the liberation of Israel from imperial oppression in Egypt. Exodus 2.23-25 says that "The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob. So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them."

In this text we see the power of voiced pain to get God's attention. It is not the shout of the victor but the cry of the victim that elicits a response from Yahweh. Scripture gives a loud voice to human misery because our pain attracts God's presence to our lives. I don't think that God needs suffering to make us pure but our pain is like a magnet to the divine power. Ironically, that which most exposes our weakness is the very thing that attracts God to us!

10.03.2007

Psalm 23 as Subversive Theology

As I see it Psalm 23 is one of those Bible texts that suffers from overexposure! It has been quoted so frequently and memorized so routinely that it is difficult to even hear what it has to say because we are overly familiar with it. The old saying might apply here that “familiarity breeds contempt.” But let me take a stab at it from what I hope might be a fresh point of view.

The fact that Yahweh is referred to as a “shepherd” is very interesting. I see this as a counter-cultural statement of Israel’s faith. In the surrounding cultures deities were often depicted as kings and warriors (an example of the inferior status of shepherds in imperialistic cultures like Egypt can be found in Exodus 46.34). And even in the Hebrew Scripture we find the same imperial images applied to God.

To call the God of Israel a shepherd was a profound and subversive act of the religious imagination. It represented a new way of conceiving of Israel’s relationship to God. I think it would be similar to the effect on our spiritual lives of beginning to refer to God as “our mother in heaven.” It would create an entirely different sense of our relationship to God and would alter the way that we experienced God in our lives.

In a modern context the image of shepherd is probably not so helpful for us because we have no real living connection with shepherds. But I think it is an example of how the Scripture communicates to people within the context of their own culture. Israel was after all, in its origins, simply a humble nomadic people. Maybe in our context we might say that the Lord is our “Dog Whisperer” (for those that don’t watch as much TV as I do that is a reference to a popular dog trainer show).

I also find the progression within the text quite fascinating. We move from “green pastures” and “quiet waters” (vs. 2) to the “valley of the shadow of death” (vs. 3) to a “table” in the presence of enemies” (vs. 5) to the “house of the Lord” (vs. 6). The dark part of life is sandwiched between two highly desirable locations. This reminds me of the words of Jesus in Revelation 1.18, “I am the living one; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever!” Death is surrounded by affirmations of life with the emphasis on unending life. Often in the crucible of life’s miseries it is only memory and hope that can sustain our spirits!

Psalm 23 ultimately leads us from a comfortable place through pain and fear to the presence of God. Honestly, I wish it could be different and that the text would lead directly from the “green valleys” and “quiet waters” to the “house of the Lord.” But as Freud taught wishing does not make it so.

Let me encourage you to share your “valley” experiences with each other. I know it can be difficult to be vulnerable and real with each other but it is well worth it.