"Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely you have received, freely give." (Matt. 10.8)
Given Jesus's expectations of disciples most of our visions seem pretty insignificant in comparison. Even on a really great spiritual day raising the dead wouldn't make my list of things to do! The behaviors that Jesus commands of his disciples in this verse are more than most of us could imagine even in our wildest spiritual fantasies. We have too many Adventist' psychological defense mechanisms in place to permit that kind of reckless pentecostal spirituality. But maybe it is exactly this kind of thinking beyond-the-possible that is the meaning of faith itself.
Even science would not be possible without a willingness to think beyond the possible. Especially if we think of the possible as that which is, as the status quo way that we conceive of the world. As it turns out the way that we conceive the world can change dramatically, and those that catch a glimpse of the changing paradigm in advance find themselves outside of the realm of the possible. Prior to the twentieth-century the conception of flight itself was merely a fantasy, something that went well beyond what was thought as possible by the vast majority of thinking people.
When viewed through a naturalistic lens the kingdom of God is an utter impossibility. The hard logic of cause and effect as well as the second law of thermodynamics teaches us that wishing for the raising of the dead is foolish. And yet wild hopes for divine healing and life beyond the grave persist. Why? Are we just foolish dreamers that can't handle the harsh truth of the real world? Are such hopes simply compensations for the hard reality of life in a cold, Newtonian universe? Or do such hopes actually connect us with a kingdom of God that challenges all conceptions of what is possible? A kingdom that teaches us to imagine that which is not possible as the first step toward the transformation of what is to the amazing prospect of what could be?
Is it possible that a church that began with a bunch of dreamers and visionaries has become so stunted by the unimaginative status quo that we have lost touch with that kingdom that breaks all boundaries and explodes our conceptions of what is possible?
If You're Not Living on the Edge You're Taking Up Too Much Space
3.26.2008
2.21.2008
Experiencing Discipleship
As I see it the experience of discipleship is captured in Jesus' saying, "Follow me." Being a disciple is being on a journey with Jesus. I don't focus so much on the relationship (probably because as a man that is simply too difficult) but on the journey. I don't know if you've seen the movie, "Lord of the Rings" but in the first movie of the trilogy there is a great scene in which Frodo and Sam have set out from home. They come to a spot in a field and Sam suddenly stops. Frodo then turns around and asks Sam what he's doing. Sam replies, "If I take one more step I'll be farther away from home then I've ever been before." I think that captures the meaning of discipleship with Jesus. It is both a great risk and an incredible adventure. It is a leaving of certain securities behind and a going out into an unknown future. The risk part is captured in the words "deny yourself" and "take up your cross." However, even that has a liberating dimension because it can free us to engage in something greater than our own concerns, the kingdom of God. It also frees us from the fears that hold us back and inhibit us from truly living! To embrace the cross of Jesus is simply to say in the face of the horrors in the world, "I am not afraid!" And that is an amazing thing.
Also, the emphasis in John's gospel on eating and drinking the body and blood of Jesus (although gross and distasteful in a literal way!) is a metaphor. It's another way of saying that the believer must "participate" in the life and death of Jesus. It's not enough to know about Jesus or to hold orthodox doctrinal ideas about him. Discipleship means to be engaged; heart, mind, and soul in the work of advancing the kingdom of God, just as Jesus did. God doesn't need more fans in the pews, he needs more players in the game!
Also, the emphasis in John's gospel on eating and drinking the body and blood of Jesus (although gross and distasteful in a literal way!) is a metaphor. It's another way of saying that the believer must "participate" in the life and death of Jesus. It's not enough to know about Jesus or to hold orthodox doctrinal ideas about him. Discipleship means to be engaged; heart, mind, and soul in the work of advancing the kingdom of God, just as Jesus did. God doesn't need more fans in the pews, he needs more players in the game!
1.23.2008
Lessons From Would-Be Disciples
Let's face it. Jesus doesn't want everybody as a disciple. Now I know that goes against the grain of the ideal image of Jesus as a nice guy that we hold in our postmodern minds. But then why would we expect Jesus not to explode our conceptions of him. If the ancient world in which he was born didn't understand him then what makes us think we will do any better? Do we think that we have an advantage because we have two thousand years of Christian history behind us? As if the church has never been wrong about important spiritual things before. Anyway, if you can at least entertain the thought that our popular notions about Jesus could be wrong then consider the following.
In Luke 9.57-62 Jesus actually said some discouraging (I might even say cruel but I know that might really explode your conception of the master! so I won't!) things to a few men that wanted to follow him. At least they said they wanted to follow him and for most people in the leadership business that is good enough. I mean, it's not easy to even get people to want to follow. As one leadership guru used to put it, "If you are leading but no one is following, you're just taking a walk!" So Jesus is really doing something to just stimulate the desire of other people to follow him. And yet this passage in Luke has him making unreasonable demands of those that want to follow him. Listen in on these three conversations:
First conversation:
“Lord, I will follow You wherever You go.”
Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”
Second conversation:
Jesus said to another, “Follow Me.”
But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”
Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.”
Third conversation:
And another also said, “Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.”
Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Note four things. 1.) Two of the men that want to follow Jesus have other things they want to do first. These are not bad things. In fact, they are actually very good things, honorable things that they wish to do out of a sense of duty and responsibility. But the good is the enemy of the great. And good things can especially get in the way of God-things! Sometimes even doing our duty can take us far from the will of God. Just think of the pilot of the Enola Gay just doing his duty and dropping the atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. And for the soldiers that crucified Jesus it was just another day in the imperial office!
2.) For two of the men that wanted to follow Jesus the focus was on "my house" and "my father." Don't miss this. The patriarchal family was the source of the greatest threat to the mission of Jesus and the kingdom of God. Family is good but it's not the ultimate good or the absolute good. Do we allow our lives to be shaped by family values in such a way that we miss the faith venture of following Jesus?
3.) What does a man that doesn't even have a "place" of his own have to offer those of us that are essentially defined by what we have? Is it possible for consumers like us to follow Jesus?
4.) These three conversations take place at the point in Luke's story where Jesus makes his crucial move toward Jerusalem. Jesus simply didn't have time to coddle disciples that weren't ready for the heat that was quickly coming. That may be tough but then Jesus was no cupcake!
If we're looking for soft and cushy we probably won't want to fill out the application to follow Jesus. We wouldn't make the cut anyway. And that would be a shame because we would miss out on the adventure that is known as the kingdom of God!
In Luke 9.57-62 Jesus actually said some discouraging (I might even say cruel but I know that might really explode your conception of the master! so I won't!) things to a few men that wanted to follow him. At least they said they wanted to follow him and for most people in the leadership business that is good enough. I mean, it's not easy to even get people to want to follow. As one leadership guru used to put it, "If you are leading but no one is following, you're just taking a walk!" So Jesus is really doing something to just stimulate the desire of other people to follow him. And yet this passage in Luke has him making unreasonable demands of those that want to follow him. Listen in on these three conversations:
First conversation:
“Lord, I will follow You wherever You go.”
Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”
Second conversation:
Jesus said to another, “Follow Me.”
But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”
Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.”
Third conversation:
And another also said, “Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.”
Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”
Note four things. 1.) Two of the men that want to follow Jesus have other things they want to do first. These are not bad things. In fact, they are actually very good things, honorable things that they wish to do out of a sense of duty and responsibility. But the good is the enemy of the great. And good things can especially get in the way of God-things! Sometimes even doing our duty can take us far from the will of God. Just think of the pilot of the Enola Gay just doing his duty and dropping the atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. And for the soldiers that crucified Jesus it was just another day in the imperial office!
2.) For two of the men that wanted to follow Jesus the focus was on "my house" and "my father." Don't miss this. The patriarchal family was the source of the greatest threat to the mission of Jesus and the kingdom of God. Family is good but it's not the ultimate good or the absolute good. Do we allow our lives to be shaped by family values in such a way that we miss the faith venture of following Jesus?
3.) What does a man that doesn't even have a "place" of his own have to offer those of us that are essentially defined by what we have? Is it possible for consumers like us to follow Jesus?
4.) These three conversations take place at the point in Luke's story where Jesus makes his crucial move toward Jerusalem. Jesus simply didn't have time to coddle disciples that weren't ready for the heat that was quickly coming. That may be tough but then Jesus was no cupcake!
If we're looking for soft and cushy we probably won't want to fill out the application to follow Jesus. We wouldn't make the cut anyway. And that would be a shame because we would miss out on the adventure that is known as the kingdom of God!
1.17.2008
Called to Discipleship by Jesus
Jesus' call to that first brave bunch of disciples was pretty amazing. That simple phrase, "Come, follow me" is packed and loaded with meaning. I wonder if we haven't emptied that radical call of its threat as well as its promise of adventure.
Jesus said (and says) "Come." This going toward Jesus required a leaving of some things, if not all things, behind. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. And it seems to me that the only people that are willing to leave things behind are those that are dissatisfied with the status quo. The status quo may not even be that bad but it may just not be enough to satisfy anymore. I remember a church in the early 1990's that intentionally wanted to reach "the bored, the burned, and the bypassed." It was tapping into the discontent of its target audience and offering something better. That's just beautiful.
Jesus said (and says) "Come, follow me." This is challenging and exciting. Jesus is on the move and following him means that we have to move to keep up. One of my favorite lines in the movie "Lord of the Rings" is when Frodo says to Sam at the start of their epic journey, "As Bilbo used to say, it's a dangerous thing to step out your front door Mr. Frodo because you just don't know where you might be swept off to." Following Jesus is a journey not a destination. And when you follow Jesus you just don't know where you might be swept off to because if you know exactly where you're going it's not a faith journey your're just taking a walk. A faith journey can be messy and exhausting, but the adventure far outweighs the risk. And there is risk. I recently heard a clip of a speech given by Sir Edmund Hillary. He was the first man to reach the top of Mt. Everest and he passed away last week. He said in effect, "If you set off on an adventure in which you are absolutely certain of success. Why bother?" If every step we take just takes us one step closer to death, why play it safe? So we can safely arrive at death?
Jesus said (and says) "Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." My brother-in-law Robert and I participated in a prison ministry event in our community last November. The group that organized the event gave us about 45 minutes of training and provided an inspirational concert on Thursday evening and then on Friday took us into a maximum security prison to share our faith and lead the inmates to Jesus. I told the men that I talked with that I was way out of my comfort zone but had come because God had moved me to do it. They laughed and then one of the guys said, "You know I wasn't going to come out here today and talk with you people. But then I got to thinking why would you guys take time out of your weekend to come and visit us. Nobody comes here unless they have to." With tears in his eyes one of the guys told me, "Thanks for coming to visit with us man."
The organizers of the event, Bill Glass ministries, told us that the church is a locker room. And the only purpose of the locker room is to prepare us to get in the game. Following Jesus is about getting in the game. It is risky, messy, and even dangerous but the reward is greater than any other thing that we can do with our lives.
Jesus said (and says) "Come." This going toward Jesus required a leaving of some things, if not all things, behind. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. And it seems to me that the only people that are willing to leave things behind are those that are dissatisfied with the status quo. The status quo may not even be that bad but it may just not be enough to satisfy anymore. I remember a church in the early 1990's that intentionally wanted to reach "the bored, the burned, and the bypassed." It was tapping into the discontent of its target audience and offering something better. That's just beautiful.
Jesus said (and says) "Come, follow me." This is challenging and exciting. Jesus is on the move and following him means that we have to move to keep up. One of my favorite lines in the movie "Lord of the Rings" is when Frodo says to Sam at the start of their epic journey, "As Bilbo used to say, it's a dangerous thing to step out your front door Mr. Frodo because you just don't know where you might be swept off to." Following Jesus is a journey not a destination. And when you follow Jesus you just don't know where you might be swept off to because if you know exactly where you're going it's not a faith journey your're just taking a walk. A faith journey can be messy and exhausting, but the adventure far outweighs the risk. And there is risk. I recently heard a clip of a speech given by Sir Edmund Hillary. He was the first man to reach the top of Mt. Everest and he passed away last week. He said in effect, "If you set off on an adventure in which you are absolutely certain of success. Why bother?" If every step we take just takes us one step closer to death, why play it safe? So we can safely arrive at death?
Jesus said (and says) "Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." My brother-in-law Robert and I participated in a prison ministry event in our community last November. The group that organized the event gave us about 45 minutes of training and provided an inspirational concert on Thursday evening and then on Friday took us into a maximum security prison to share our faith and lead the inmates to Jesus. I told the men that I talked with that I was way out of my comfort zone but had come because God had moved me to do it. They laughed and then one of the guys said, "You know I wasn't going to come out here today and talk with you people. But then I got to thinking why would you guys take time out of your weekend to come and visit us. Nobody comes here unless they have to." With tears in his eyes one of the guys told me, "Thanks for coming to visit with us man."
The organizers of the event, Bill Glass ministries, told us that the church is a locker room. And the only purpose of the locker room is to prepare us to get in the game. Following Jesus is about getting in the game. It is risky, messy, and even dangerous but the reward is greater than any other thing that we can do with our lives.
11.27.2007
A Life of Praise
I'm probably not the best person to be commenting on a life of praise. Those vocal "Praise the Lord" type of Christians actually bother me! I suspect that Christians like that are hiding behind a happy facade in order not to deal with the bitter pill of reality.
A number of years ago I called to console a fellow pastor for the loss of a stillborn son. I was more than a little unsettled by his "God-be-praised" lack of grief! I think there is definitely a "time to mourn" and that to be happy during such a time might be a sign of psychosis rather than spiritual maturity. So I'm more than a bit suspicious of "Be Happy" and "Praise the Lord" theology!
But then I did like the movie Pollyanna, well, sort of. I especially enjoyed watching the "Sinners in the hands of an angry God" preacher become a "happy texts" man in the end. If you don't get the reference then you'll just have to watch the movie! And of course the holiday classic, "It's a Wonderful Life" always moves me. And the Bible is full of moving stories of people that refused to succumb to despair but instead found a way to praise God in the darkness.
So in spite of my natural pessimism it is nearly impossible for me to totally discount the power of praise. But what is it that makes praise such a force for good in our lives? In reading the story in 2 Chronicles 20 it hit me that when we praise we are liberated from fear. Praise is evidence that our lives are no longer bound by the fears that paralyze and control us.
Praise is the natural outgrowth of our trust in the love of God in all circumstances. Like king Jehoshaphat in the story we move from absolute fear (vs. 3) to confident praise (vs. 21) by trusting the Spirit that says, "Do not be afraid nor dismayed" (vs. 15) Praise is a sign that we are not merely animals dominated by instinct. We are not like Pavlov's dogs in that our responses are not always determined by external stimuli.
The good news of God is that we don't have to be determined by the negative external forces around us. From a psychological point of view Christians can have an "internal" rather than an "external" locus of control. Our emotions do not ultimately have to be dictated by our circumstances. Obviously we will respond to our circumstances with appropriate emotional reactions. If someone we love dies then we cry! If our lives are threatened we will react with fear. However, beyond these immediate reactions we have the possibility of praise.
Praise is a form of protest against the status quo! In our praise of God we imagine a world beyond what we now see and feel. In praise we enact a world in which God reigns. Praise is an eschatological act. It brings God's beautiful future into our very painful present.
Praise is our way of saying "No" to the present world and "Yes" to the coming kingdom of God. Praise makes the kingdom of God present in the here and now! Like faith, and hope, and love, praise is a piece of eternity that becomes flesh and dwells among us. Praise is our witness to the reality that God is with us, even here, even now!
A number of years ago I called to console a fellow pastor for the loss of a stillborn son. I was more than a little unsettled by his "God-be-praised" lack of grief! I think there is definitely a "time to mourn" and that to be happy during such a time might be a sign of psychosis rather than spiritual maturity. So I'm more than a bit suspicious of "Be Happy" and "Praise the Lord" theology!
But then I did like the movie Pollyanna, well, sort of. I especially enjoyed watching the "Sinners in the hands of an angry God" preacher become a "happy texts" man in the end. If you don't get the reference then you'll just have to watch the movie! And of course the holiday classic, "It's a Wonderful Life" always moves me. And the Bible is full of moving stories of people that refused to succumb to despair but instead found a way to praise God in the darkness.
So in spite of my natural pessimism it is nearly impossible for me to totally discount the power of praise. But what is it that makes praise such a force for good in our lives? In reading the story in 2 Chronicles 20 it hit me that when we praise we are liberated from fear. Praise is evidence that our lives are no longer bound by the fears that paralyze and control us.
Praise is the natural outgrowth of our trust in the love of God in all circumstances. Like king Jehoshaphat in the story we move from absolute fear (vs. 3) to confident praise (vs. 21) by trusting the Spirit that says, "Do not be afraid nor dismayed" (vs. 15) Praise is a sign that we are not merely animals dominated by instinct. We are not like Pavlov's dogs in that our responses are not always determined by external stimuli.
The good news of God is that we don't have to be determined by the negative external forces around us. From a psychological point of view Christians can have an "internal" rather than an "external" locus of control. Our emotions do not ultimately have to be dictated by our circumstances. Obviously we will respond to our circumstances with appropriate emotional reactions. If someone we love dies then we cry! If our lives are threatened we will react with fear. However, beyond these immediate reactions we have the possibility of praise.
Praise is a form of protest against the status quo! In our praise of God we imagine a world beyond what we now see and feel. In praise we enact a world in which God reigns. Praise is an eschatological act. It brings God's beautiful future into our very painful present.
Praise is our way of saying "No" to the present world and "Yes" to the coming kingdom of God. Praise makes the kingdom of God present in the here and now! Like faith, and hope, and love, praise is a piece of eternity that becomes flesh and dwells among us. Praise is our witness to the reality that God is with us, even here, even now!
11.19.2007
To Carry All Our Worry
I have faced machine guns, hit a Mack truck head on, and been stuck up a glaciated mountain overnight in inhospitable circumstances.
But I have also experienced bad stuff. Like times when my relationship with Angela was not what it should be and life almost seemed not worth living. In reviewing the 'crucible experiences' of my life, it is clear that the greatest challenges don't arise out of physical circumstances. I confess that Alister's bad experiences are laughable to most, as God has blessed me with exceptional relationships with my wife, children, extended family, professional associates and friends.
But I have also experienced bad stuff. Like times when my relationship with Angela was not what it should be and life almost seemed not worth living. In reviewing the 'crucible experiences' of my life, it is clear that the greatest challenges don't arise out of physical circumstances. I confess that Alister's bad experiences are laughable to most, as God has blessed me with exceptional relationships with my wife, children, extended family, professional associates and friends.
However, it is also clear, in reviewing the 'crucible experiences' of my life, that life's most mundane experiences can become trying beyond comprehension, as the following story illustrates. They say that the best and worst days of a man's life are the days his wife buys a travel trailer (a "caravan"). And the day she acquires the replacement trailer. And the day she acquires the second replacement trailer. Our correspondence with the travel trailer manufacturer is an inch thick, and I wasn't writing to tell them how pleased we were.
We finally got to the point where for sanity's sake there was nothing we could do but "let go and let God", as they say at Alcoholics Anonymous. We finally got to the point where we had no choice but to "carry all our worry" to God and wait for His deliverance (Wednesday's study, 1 Peter 5:7; Psalm 55:22; Matthew 6:25-33).
Here's an excerpt from Angela's prayer journal.
Right now I feel like the case is hopeless. I feel like I’ve tried so hard – maybe that’s the problem though? I’ve been doing the trying instead of letting go and letting God. But then I wonder if God thinks I am presuming on Him if I do nothing. Does God need my help? Does He expect me to do something? I find it hard to know what is patience and what is doing nothing. What is putting in an effort and what is doing it myself? I am going to leave it with God today – that’s extremely difficult for me to do. I so desperately want to pick up the phone and find out what’s happening. But I’m going to stop myself from doing that ...
Maybe that’s patience because I’ve done my part in calling them.
I don’t know but I pray I’ll learn soon!
10 minutes – later
I just felt like something would happen when I finally wrote this down. And sure enough, 10 minutes after I finished the above, I got a call from [the company] saying they would tag the [best trailer they make] for us, and someone would be calling me later today re the final price...
2 hours – later
This is incredible isn’t it? Several journal entries on the same day within hours and even minutes of each other. When I finally hand it over to God, it all just happens. We need to give up on trying to make it happen! Just got a phone call from [the company] to tell me the final price. He goes through the, “Well, this is a 2008 model whereas the last unit was only a 2006; this is obviously a much better trailer" (yes, we know that ...) and I think, 'just tell me the price!' Then he says, “how about you pay $[x]?” I tried not to sound ecstatic. That’s just over half of what we would have been willing to pay for the upgrade.
"What’s more", he said, "[the company] would take care of [other stuff]."
So there you have it – unbelievable answers to prayer – and I did nothing! That’s just the point though. ... This whole story has taught me so much about God, my faith and trust in Him. At one point I found myself saying, ‘Why can’t I plan my life like other people? Some people plan what they’re doing for Christmas or next year, we don’t even know what we’re doing next week!’ But I realized, that’s where the blessings come in. If we’re totally in control the whole time, how can God have any input? How can we be led by God when we do all the planning? I know we do need to plan, (another, where’s the balance type thing), but I guess it’s ‘make plans but be willing to be flexible and go with the flow’, because it was only when I let all of it go, and said, ‘I can live with whatever’, that God had a chance to do something wonderful for us.
I'm looking forward to hearing your experiences of "casting all your anxiety on Him". Because He cares for you. http://www.absg.adventist.org/2007/4Q/TE/ETQ407_08.pdf
11.13.2007
Indestructible Hope
Hope has more to do with the present than it does with the future. Hope is not simply the ability to see a bright light at the end of dark tunnel. It is more than just a toughness of soul that helps us to hang on until things get better. Hope may include all of these things but from a theological point of view it is much more.
Maybe the starting point for hope is given in Job's experience, "Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me" (40.6-7) To be addressed by God is to be treated as an "I" rather than an "it" and that is a very hopeful beginning. Especially in an imperial world that often treats persons as "objects" with even less value than other material things. An example of this is in Revelation 18 in which the "bodies and souls of men" are listed at the bottom of a list of "merchandise" that starts with "gold and silver." Empire attempts to enslave the mind (psyche) as well as the body. Thus the liberation that God offers from the "principalities and powers" that govern human life is as much psychological as it is physical and spiritual. Hope is thus the liberation of the mind from the oppressive power of empire that seeks to diminish human worth and disempower human beings.
Notice the way that God addresses Israel in Isaiah 41.14, "Fear not, you worm Jacob, You men of Israel! I will help you, says the LORD And your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." Why does God call Jacob a worm? Because the people of Israel had been in captivity in Babylon for decades and they had internalized the Babylonian's negative image of their nation. And that was a big part of the problem when the time came for them to return to their own land and rebuild their nation. The prophetic task involved energizing and empowering Israel for the hard task of nation-building that lay ahead of them. Internally, they were in no condition to do this because their social inferiority to Babylon during the long capitivity had become an inferiority complex for the nation. But God addresses the "worm Jacob" as the "men of Israel" and thus restores the dignity needed for the worms to become men again.
God is always working to empower those that have been disempowered by the violent and imperial powers and empires that have dominated history since nations were formed. The names may change (Assyria, Babylon, Rome, Germany, Russia, Iraq, Iran, America) but the underlying reality is the same. And Christians in all times and all places are called to struggle against the forces that constantly seek to colonize and control both minds and bodies. And in this struggle hope is the power that subverts the powers that be.
Hope ultimately has a christological focus because Jesus is the center and source of our hope, "For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls" (Heb. 12.3). Such hope gives us strength to resist and courage to confront the external forces that make people feel less-than-human and worth nothing. The One that died on an imperial cross says, "Do not be afraid; I am He who lives, and was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore."
Maybe the starting point for hope is given in Job's experience, "Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me" (40.6-7) To be addressed by God is to be treated as an "I" rather than an "it" and that is a very hopeful beginning. Especially in an imperial world that often treats persons as "objects" with even less value than other material things. An example of this is in Revelation 18 in which the "bodies and souls of men" are listed at the bottom of a list of "merchandise" that starts with "gold and silver." Empire attempts to enslave the mind (psyche) as well as the body. Thus the liberation that God offers from the "principalities and powers" that govern human life is as much psychological as it is physical and spiritual. Hope is thus the liberation of the mind from the oppressive power of empire that seeks to diminish human worth and disempower human beings.
Notice the way that God addresses Israel in Isaiah 41.14, "Fear not, you worm Jacob, You men of Israel! I will help you, says the LORD And your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." Why does God call Jacob a worm? Because the people of Israel had been in captivity in Babylon for decades and they had internalized the Babylonian's negative image of their nation. And that was a big part of the problem when the time came for them to return to their own land and rebuild their nation. The prophetic task involved energizing and empowering Israel for the hard task of nation-building that lay ahead of them. Internally, they were in no condition to do this because their social inferiority to Babylon during the long capitivity had become an inferiority complex for the nation. But God addresses the "worm Jacob" as the "men of Israel" and thus restores the dignity needed for the worms to become men again.
God is always working to empower those that have been disempowered by the violent and imperial powers and empires that have dominated history since nations were formed. The names may change (Assyria, Babylon, Rome, Germany, Russia, Iraq, Iran, America) but the underlying reality is the same. And Christians in all times and all places are called to struggle against the forces that constantly seek to colonize and control both minds and bodies. And in this struggle hope is the power that subverts the powers that be.
Hope ultimately has a christological focus because Jesus is the center and source of our hope, "For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls" (Heb. 12.3). Such hope gives us strength to resist and courage to confront the external forces that make people feel less-than-human and worth nothing. The One that died on an imperial cross says, "Do not be afraid; I am He who lives, and was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore."
11.06.2007
Wrestling with God
I've often thought that the story of Jacob's struggle with "the Man" in Genesis 32 gives a new meaning to the old hymn, "He Touched Me." Jacob experienced the divine presence not as a healing touch but as a crushing blow that brought great agony. Carl Jung (Freud's most brilliant and wayward disciple) said that if the Bible (particularly the story of Job and the book of Revelation) teaches us anything it is that "though God can be loved, he must be feared." I think that there is something to that assertion although in all honesty it does trouble me.
As in so many other stories in the Bible, in Genesis 32 we again encounter the image of a violent God. But then as Alister suggested in last week's study maybe these stories reveal more about the human misperception of God's character than anything else. Maybe our struggles with the God-that-crushes is really a struggle with our own internal violent demons. Maybe we project our own violent tendencies into the external world and especially onto God. I wish I had more to offer on this but "maybe" is the best I can do right now.
As much as the story troubles me on one level it also deeply inspires me on another. For example, I absolutely love Jacob's defiance, even after having his hip disclocated (or whatever the exact physical injury might have been). The "Man" says, "Let me go" and Jacob says, "I will not." That sort of reminded me of God saying, "Let me people go" and Pharoah responding "I will not." The human will really is an imperial power which is why tyrants and dictators of all stripes attempt to break it with violent force. So I applaud Jacob for refusing to meekly submit to the divine violence. Somehow his faith recognized that behind what he experienced as the divine-power-to-crush was ultimately a divine-will-to-bless.
To me, the most profound moment in the story is the question in vs. 27, "What is your name?" The last time that Jacob had heard that question was when asked by his old and dying father Isaac. At that time Jacob had lied and said "Esau" in order to get what he wanted. As I see it these are the two defining moments in Jacob's life. In both instances the question is "What is your name?" I think Jacob spent most of his life pretending to be what he wasn't (Esau) in order to get the blessing that he desperately wanted. But he finally realized that it was enough to simply be Jacob. And the irony of it is that when he stopped trying to be something he wasn't (Esau) he became a new man and received a new name (Israel). How much of our lives do we spend trying to take what can only be received as gift?
Last summer I had the priviledge of speaking at a Kinship Kampmeeting. For those of you that have never heard of this organization it is a Seventh-day Adventist group composed of lesbians, gays, bi-sexuals and trans-gendered persons. When I told them this story of Jacob many were visibly moved and told me afterward how much they identified with Jacob's struggle. Many of them have spent all their lives trying to be what they are not (straight) in order to get what they desperately need (affirmation and acceptance). I was deeply moved by the stories I heard that week.
Interestingly, the story itself does not name Jacob's assailant. Jacob even asks, "Tell me your name" but rather than an answer gets a probing question instead, "Why is it that you ask about my name?" Why is naming so important to us? Maybe it gives us a sense of control in that what we name we somehow think we know. By naming our children we indelibly place our stamp upon their lives. Giving something a name defines it and limits it and signifies our mastery over it (like Adam naming the animals and then his wife which might have been an even bigger mistake than eating the forbidden fruit!). But in this story God is the nameless One. We can encounter but never control God. Every god that can be named is an idol of our own making. God will never comfortably fit in our small mental boxes.
I like the final image in our story: Jacob limping out into the bright light of a new day. He may not look like much of a hero but then things are not always what they seem on the surface!
As in so many other stories in the Bible, in Genesis 32 we again encounter the image of a violent God. But then as Alister suggested in last week's study maybe these stories reveal more about the human misperception of God's character than anything else. Maybe our struggles with the God-that-crushes is really a struggle with our own internal violent demons. Maybe we project our own violent tendencies into the external world and especially onto God. I wish I had more to offer on this but "maybe" is the best I can do right now.
As much as the story troubles me on one level it also deeply inspires me on another. For example, I absolutely love Jacob's defiance, even after having his hip disclocated (or whatever the exact physical injury might have been). The "Man" says, "Let me go" and Jacob says, "I will not." That sort of reminded me of God saying, "Let me people go" and Pharoah responding "I will not." The human will really is an imperial power which is why tyrants and dictators of all stripes attempt to break it with violent force. So I applaud Jacob for refusing to meekly submit to the divine violence. Somehow his faith recognized that behind what he experienced as the divine-power-to-crush was ultimately a divine-will-to-bless.
To me, the most profound moment in the story is the question in vs. 27, "What is your name?" The last time that Jacob had heard that question was when asked by his old and dying father Isaac. At that time Jacob had lied and said "Esau" in order to get what he wanted. As I see it these are the two defining moments in Jacob's life. In both instances the question is "What is your name?" I think Jacob spent most of his life pretending to be what he wasn't (Esau) in order to get the blessing that he desperately wanted. But he finally realized that it was enough to simply be Jacob. And the irony of it is that when he stopped trying to be something he wasn't (Esau) he became a new man and received a new name (Israel). How much of our lives do we spend trying to take what can only be received as gift?
Last summer I had the priviledge of speaking at a Kinship Kampmeeting. For those of you that have never heard of this organization it is a Seventh-day Adventist group composed of lesbians, gays, bi-sexuals and trans-gendered persons. When I told them this story of Jacob many were visibly moved and told me afterward how much they identified with Jacob's struggle. Many of them have spent all their lives trying to be what they are not (straight) in order to get what they desperately need (affirmation and acceptance). I was deeply moved by the stories I heard that week.
Interestingly, the story itself does not name Jacob's assailant. Jacob even asks, "Tell me your name" but rather than an answer gets a probing question instead, "Why is it that you ask about my name?" Why is naming so important to us? Maybe it gives us a sense of control in that what we name we somehow think we know. By naming our children we indelibly place our stamp upon their lives. Giving something a name defines it and limits it and signifies our mastery over it (like Adam naming the animals and then his wife which might have been an even bigger mistake than eating the forbidden fruit!). But in this story God is the nameless One. We can encounter but never control God. Every god that can be named is an idol of our own making. God will never comfortably fit in our small mental boxes.
I like the final image in our story: Jacob limping out into the bright light of a new day. He may not look like much of a hero but then things are not always what they seem on the surface!
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!
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!
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.
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.
8.03.2007
Obsessing on Ecclesiastes and Wondering Why
I have an enduring fascination with the book of Ecclesiastes. Truth be told, my study of the book has become something of an obsession of late. The text itself would seem to discourage this kind of intensity because it strikingly states that “All is futile” (1.2)[1] and further notes that “much study” is a tiresome business (12.12). However, my drive to understand is as ceaseless as the natural cycles that go on and on and on and on (1.4-8), like a wheel that turns but never reaches its destination! So I offer my reflections, not as settled convictions, but as insights that have surfaced in my obsessive quest to probe the depths of one of the most enigmatic books of Scripture.
Let me offer the following thoughts about authorship before I delve into the message of the text itself. Tradition has it that Ecclesiastes was written by King Solomon. The author is identified as “son of David” and “king in Jerusalem” in 1.1. And in 1.12-2.26 he describes himself as the wealthiest and wisest of all Israel’s kings (this seems somewhat pretentious given that only two kings had reigned in Israel prior to him!). One Rabbi went so far as to suggest that not only was Ecclesiastes written by Solomon, but that it was written by Solomon in his old age when he had become senile! Regardless of where you stand on the senility argument the tradition of Solomonic’ authorship presents difficulties for the interpreter. The text itself does not explicitly name Solomon as the author but instead claims to be written by an individual by the name of “Qohelet.” Qohelet is a feminine noun that means “gatherer” or assembler.” This has led some commentators to think that Qohelet might be the female personification of wisdom itself, like her counterpart in the book of Proverbs that assembles her children for edifying instruction (1.20-33). If Qohelet were really a king it is hard to understand why he is explicitly identified as a “sage” in 12.9. And apart from the “royal testimony” in 1.12-2.26 the author more often writes from the perspective of a royal subject rather than as a powerful monarch (see 4.1-2; 5.7-8). The evidence on authorship leads me to be skeptical of the traditional claim that Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes. I favor the view that Qoheleth was a male sage that used the literary device known as “royal fiction” to emphasize his point about the brevity and futility of existence. However, the text loses none of its canonical authority in taking this position. Nor does it lose any of its mysterious power to baffle the interpreter!
The message of Ecclesiastes is no less difficult to resolve than the issue of authorship. Its content is problematic regardless of who wrote it. Robert Crenshaw has called it the “Bible’s strangest book” given its “oppressive message” of the total futility of life.[2] What do we make of a Scripture that begins with the assertion “Utter futility! Utter futility! All is futile!” (1.2)? The word translated as futility (hebel) has both a temporal and an existential meaning. It means either brief or futile or both depending on the context. I think that a good starting point is to take these “words of Qohelet” (1.1) as seriously as we take the prophetic “words of Jeremiah” (Jer. 1.1) or the “words of Amos” (Amos 1.1). The words of Qohelet may be dark and perplexing but they are nevertheless “truthful” words (12.10) that command our attention if not our immediate respect.
I would suggest that the word of the Lord came to Qohelet just as certainly as it came to Isaiah, Jeremiah or Ezekiel but the manner in which it came was different. Throughout the book we find phrases like “I set my mind to study” (1.12), “I said to myself” (1.16), “I realized” (3.14), “I mused” (3.17), “I observed” (4.1), “I tested with wisdom” (7.23), and “I have seen” (10.5) repeated over and over again. The focus is explicitly on the thinker and the disciplined mental processes involved in the quest to understand all that goes on under the sun. The heavy use of such “I” language gives one the distinct impression that Qohelet is something of an egotist and rather self-absorbed. No doubt a brilliant egotist as the existence of twenty-six words or combinations of words that appear nowhere else in the Hebrew Scripture testify to a uniquely creative individuality. The writing style is also highly personal and extremely candid. Maybe it is precisely the egotism and self-absorption that can give us a key into the profound experience that is voiced in this troubled and troubling text. The philosopher William Barret has said, “there is no human temperament that does not potentially reveal some truth” and that even “morbidity has it own unique and revelatory power.”[3] It strikes me that Qohelet’s obsessive fascination with the dark side of life and ultimately with death itself is something of an epiphany, an illusion-shattering epiphany. I think it is as true of Qohelet what the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said of himself, “I am no man. I am dynamite.”[4] The wisdom of the sad sage of Ecclesiastes explodes the illusions by which most people order their lives; the illusions of prosperity, grandiosity and immortality that feed the lust for life and fuel the insatiable desire to acquire and achieve. In contrast to these illusions it reveals that all life and that every life exists in the shadow of death, that all questions do not have tidy theological answers, that hard reality does not conform to our hopeful expectations, and that all human existence participates in the frustration of a universe that is constantly in motion on a funeral dirge march toward oblivion (12.3-8). Death casts its long and nihilistic shadow over the entire lifespan, from cradle to coffin. It places a huge question mark over all of our achievements and it frustrates every attempt to penetrate this deepest and darkest of all mysteries. In the game of life there are no get out of jail free cards. And even faith in God does not liberate one from the second law of thermodynamics or obliterate the cold, hard, dark, inevitable facts of human experience.
The wisdom of Ecclesiastes is wisdom from below, arising from experience in contrast to the sometime prophetic claim of direct divine revelation from above. It expresses the truth of the human situation from the ground up. Such wisdom is born in the crucible of deep reflection and careful observation of the world as it is, not the world as we wish it would be or hope it will be. It is a hard wisdom arising out of this world with all of its misery, oppression, and frustration that inevitably ends in death.
Like Job before him, the author of Ecclesiastes doubts that history rewards virtue and punishes vice in the way that the earlier wisdom teachers had so dogmatically insisted that it did. Qohelet observed that “sometimes a good man perishes in spite of his goodness, and sometimes a wicked one endures in spite of his wickedness” (7:15). Unlike Job’s friends, Qohelet refused to accept the traditional maxim that a man’s external circumstances were an accurate reflection of his internal condition. No doubt he would have made a much better companion than those three “miserable comforters.” Because he knew that reality was far more complex than the simple logic of “obey and prosper, disobey and suffer” could calculate. He knew that death was the inevitable “fate” of all and that no amount of virtue could alter that reality in the least.
For Qoheleth the best that can be attained in our brief and futile lives is an enjoyment of life’s simple pleasures; eating and drinking, friendship and loving companionship (4.9-12; 5.17; 9.9). This makes me think of the philosophy of one of the ant characters (voiced by Woody Allen) in the movie Antz when he says, “Its my lot in life. It’s not a lot, but it’s my life!” It may not be a lot, but a small island of simple comfort in an ocean of endless misery, is probably the difference between total despair and tolerable melancholy, between ending-it-all and toughing-it-out. Beyond this such simple pleasures also serve as a contact point with God because they come as gifts of God and not as rewards for our works (2.24). Since life is a brief book between the bookends of non-existence then surely the simple God-given joys of our physical existence are to be fully embraced.
Ultimately, for the quixotic sage Qohelet, God as well as life, is a great mystery. In what is perhaps the most ironic and certainly one of the most courageous confession’s in Scripture the humbled intellectual states, “All this I tested with wisdom. I thought I could fathom it, but it eludes me” (7.23). Unfortunately, there is no simple mathematical formula by which life and the mysterious workings of God can be calculated. The logic of human existence and divine sovereignty, if there is any, is deep and elusive. The shadow of death extends even into the fair country of biblical wisdom itself. The proud claim to know-it-all, to have found the final truth, to have arrived at the end of the equation is perhaps the greatest illusion of all. It is this illusion that, above all, is the primary obstacle to true knowledge because it attempts to fit the infinite mystery of life and God into a puzzle that can be pieced together by the finite human mind. In contrast to this the surly sage insists that life can be enjoyed as a gift but it cannot be solved as a riddle.
It is rather curious that a book like Ecclesiastes could become part of the canon of Scripture. It not only disclosed new meaning but it also exploded some of the most cherished traditions of Israel. But on reflection its conclusion in the canon of Scripture seems quite appropriate. Theological claims to finality and completeness have been the one constant in the everchanging landscape of biblical interpretation. Qohelet is a dissonant voice in that choir of absolute certainty. He raises his voice, in part, to remind us that all our thinking, even our best theological thinking, is always on the way and never at the end. For as Walter Brueggemann says of the task of biblical interpretation.
The only way to turn the book into a fixed idol is to imagine that the final interpretation has been given, an act of imagination that is a deep act of disobedience to the lively God who indwells the text.[5]
If I were to add my own editorial comment to the text of Ecclesiastes, like we find in the scribal addition in 12.9-14, it would go something like this. “There is a time for everything, even the melancholy reflections that inevitably arise out of the futility and frustration of human existence. Such are not the only words or the last words, and maybe not even the best words, but they are nevertheless utterly true and significant words. These searchingly honest and painful words are an invaluable aid in the agonizing quest to understand the meaning of our (hebel) all-too-brief lives!”
[1] All translations are taken from the Tanakh, Jewish Publication Society, 1985.
[2] Robert Crenshaw, Ecclesiastes (Westminster: Philadelphia, 1987); 23.
[3] William Barrett, Irrational Man: A Study in Existential Philosophy (New York: Doubleday, 1958); 10.
[4] Walter Kaufmann, Basic Writings of Nietzsche (New York: Random House, 1995); 782.
[5] Walter Brueggemann, An Introduction to the Old Testament (Louisville: Westminster, 2003): 13.
Let me offer the following thoughts about authorship before I delve into the message of the text itself. Tradition has it that Ecclesiastes was written by King Solomon. The author is identified as “son of David” and “king in Jerusalem” in 1.1. And in 1.12-2.26 he describes himself as the wealthiest and wisest of all Israel’s kings (this seems somewhat pretentious given that only two kings had reigned in Israel prior to him!). One Rabbi went so far as to suggest that not only was Ecclesiastes written by Solomon, but that it was written by Solomon in his old age when he had become senile! Regardless of where you stand on the senility argument the tradition of Solomonic’ authorship presents difficulties for the interpreter. The text itself does not explicitly name Solomon as the author but instead claims to be written by an individual by the name of “Qohelet.” Qohelet is a feminine noun that means “gatherer” or assembler.” This has led some commentators to think that Qohelet might be the female personification of wisdom itself, like her counterpart in the book of Proverbs that assembles her children for edifying instruction (1.20-33). If Qohelet were really a king it is hard to understand why he is explicitly identified as a “sage” in 12.9. And apart from the “royal testimony” in 1.12-2.26 the author more often writes from the perspective of a royal subject rather than as a powerful monarch (see 4.1-2; 5.7-8). The evidence on authorship leads me to be skeptical of the traditional claim that Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes. I favor the view that Qoheleth was a male sage that used the literary device known as “royal fiction” to emphasize his point about the brevity and futility of existence. However, the text loses none of its canonical authority in taking this position. Nor does it lose any of its mysterious power to baffle the interpreter!
The message of Ecclesiastes is no less difficult to resolve than the issue of authorship. Its content is problematic regardless of who wrote it. Robert Crenshaw has called it the “Bible’s strangest book” given its “oppressive message” of the total futility of life.[2] What do we make of a Scripture that begins with the assertion “Utter futility! Utter futility! All is futile!” (1.2)? The word translated as futility (hebel) has both a temporal and an existential meaning. It means either brief or futile or both depending on the context. I think that a good starting point is to take these “words of Qohelet” (1.1) as seriously as we take the prophetic “words of Jeremiah” (Jer. 1.1) or the “words of Amos” (Amos 1.1). The words of Qohelet may be dark and perplexing but they are nevertheless “truthful” words (12.10) that command our attention if not our immediate respect.
I would suggest that the word of the Lord came to Qohelet just as certainly as it came to Isaiah, Jeremiah or Ezekiel but the manner in which it came was different. Throughout the book we find phrases like “I set my mind to study” (1.12), “I said to myself” (1.16), “I realized” (3.14), “I mused” (3.17), “I observed” (4.1), “I tested with wisdom” (7.23), and “I have seen” (10.5) repeated over and over again. The focus is explicitly on the thinker and the disciplined mental processes involved in the quest to understand all that goes on under the sun. The heavy use of such “I” language gives one the distinct impression that Qohelet is something of an egotist and rather self-absorbed. No doubt a brilliant egotist as the existence of twenty-six words or combinations of words that appear nowhere else in the Hebrew Scripture testify to a uniquely creative individuality. The writing style is also highly personal and extremely candid. Maybe it is precisely the egotism and self-absorption that can give us a key into the profound experience that is voiced in this troubled and troubling text. The philosopher William Barret has said, “there is no human temperament that does not potentially reveal some truth” and that even “morbidity has it own unique and revelatory power.”[3] It strikes me that Qohelet’s obsessive fascination with the dark side of life and ultimately with death itself is something of an epiphany, an illusion-shattering epiphany. I think it is as true of Qohelet what the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said of himself, “I am no man. I am dynamite.”[4] The wisdom of the sad sage of Ecclesiastes explodes the illusions by which most people order their lives; the illusions of prosperity, grandiosity and immortality that feed the lust for life and fuel the insatiable desire to acquire and achieve. In contrast to these illusions it reveals that all life and that every life exists in the shadow of death, that all questions do not have tidy theological answers, that hard reality does not conform to our hopeful expectations, and that all human existence participates in the frustration of a universe that is constantly in motion on a funeral dirge march toward oblivion (12.3-8). Death casts its long and nihilistic shadow over the entire lifespan, from cradle to coffin. It places a huge question mark over all of our achievements and it frustrates every attempt to penetrate this deepest and darkest of all mysteries. In the game of life there are no get out of jail free cards. And even faith in God does not liberate one from the second law of thermodynamics or obliterate the cold, hard, dark, inevitable facts of human experience.
The wisdom of Ecclesiastes is wisdom from below, arising from experience in contrast to the sometime prophetic claim of direct divine revelation from above. It expresses the truth of the human situation from the ground up. Such wisdom is born in the crucible of deep reflection and careful observation of the world as it is, not the world as we wish it would be or hope it will be. It is a hard wisdom arising out of this world with all of its misery, oppression, and frustration that inevitably ends in death.
Like Job before him, the author of Ecclesiastes doubts that history rewards virtue and punishes vice in the way that the earlier wisdom teachers had so dogmatically insisted that it did. Qohelet observed that “sometimes a good man perishes in spite of his goodness, and sometimes a wicked one endures in spite of his wickedness” (7:15). Unlike Job’s friends, Qohelet refused to accept the traditional maxim that a man’s external circumstances were an accurate reflection of his internal condition. No doubt he would have made a much better companion than those three “miserable comforters.” Because he knew that reality was far more complex than the simple logic of “obey and prosper, disobey and suffer” could calculate. He knew that death was the inevitable “fate” of all and that no amount of virtue could alter that reality in the least.
For Qoheleth the best that can be attained in our brief and futile lives is an enjoyment of life’s simple pleasures; eating and drinking, friendship and loving companionship (4.9-12; 5.17; 9.9). This makes me think of the philosophy of one of the ant characters (voiced by Woody Allen) in the movie Antz when he says, “Its my lot in life. It’s not a lot, but it’s my life!” It may not be a lot, but a small island of simple comfort in an ocean of endless misery, is probably the difference between total despair and tolerable melancholy, between ending-it-all and toughing-it-out. Beyond this such simple pleasures also serve as a contact point with God because they come as gifts of God and not as rewards for our works (2.24). Since life is a brief book between the bookends of non-existence then surely the simple God-given joys of our physical existence are to be fully embraced.
Ultimately, for the quixotic sage Qohelet, God as well as life, is a great mystery. In what is perhaps the most ironic and certainly one of the most courageous confession’s in Scripture the humbled intellectual states, “All this I tested with wisdom. I thought I could fathom it, but it eludes me” (7.23). Unfortunately, there is no simple mathematical formula by which life and the mysterious workings of God can be calculated. The logic of human existence and divine sovereignty, if there is any, is deep and elusive. The shadow of death extends even into the fair country of biblical wisdom itself. The proud claim to know-it-all, to have found the final truth, to have arrived at the end of the equation is perhaps the greatest illusion of all. It is this illusion that, above all, is the primary obstacle to true knowledge because it attempts to fit the infinite mystery of life and God into a puzzle that can be pieced together by the finite human mind. In contrast to this the surly sage insists that life can be enjoyed as a gift but it cannot be solved as a riddle.
It is rather curious that a book like Ecclesiastes could become part of the canon of Scripture. It not only disclosed new meaning but it also exploded some of the most cherished traditions of Israel. But on reflection its conclusion in the canon of Scripture seems quite appropriate. Theological claims to finality and completeness have been the one constant in the everchanging landscape of biblical interpretation. Qohelet is a dissonant voice in that choir of absolute certainty. He raises his voice, in part, to remind us that all our thinking, even our best theological thinking, is always on the way and never at the end. For as Walter Brueggemann says of the task of biblical interpretation.
The only way to turn the book into a fixed idol is to imagine that the final interpretation has been given, an act of imagination that is a deep act of disobedience to the lively God who indwells the text.[5]
If I were to add my own editorial comment to the text of Ecclesiastes, like we find in the scribal addition in 12.9-14, it would go something like this. “There is a time for everything, even the melancholy reflections that inevitably arise out of the futility and frustration of human existence. Such are not the only words or the last words, and maybe not even the best words, but they are nevertheless utterly true and significant words. These searchingly honest and painful words are an invaluable aid in the agonizing quest to understand the meaning of our (hebel) all-too-brief lives!”
[1] All translations are taken from the Tanakh, Jewish Publication Society, 1985.
[2] Robert Crenshaw, Ecclesiastes (Westminster: Philadelphia, 1987); 23.
[3] William Barrett, Irrational Man: A Study in Existential Philosophy (New York: Doubleday, 1958); 10.
[4] Walter Kaufmann, Basic Writings of Nietzsche (New York: Random House, 1995); 782.
[5] Walter Brueggemann, An Introduction to the Old Testament (Louisville: Westminster, 2003): 13.
5.03.2006
Transformational Bible Study
The author of Hebrews makes a profound spiritual point in saying that, "the word of God is living and active." (4.12) The Bible has both the power to educate and to transform the soul. It not only says something to us but, if we listen in the right way, it does something in us. This requires the willingness on our part to listen carefully to the voices that speak to us out of its pages. We may not always initially understand or even agree with what we hear but in the process we will be effected in the very depths of our being.
The purpose of Scripture is not primarly to tell us what to think but to empower us to think for ourselves. It has the potential to liberate us from the tyranny of dead tradition to the experience of a living connection with the divine source of life. The ultimate goal of the word of God is stated in Hebrews 8.11, "No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest." The individual can have direct contact with God. Unfortunately the Church and its teachings, and even the Bible itself, often come between the individual and God. We are often content to accept what others tell us about God rather than involving ourselves in the difficult yet rewarding task of engaging God directly. The knowledge of God is not something that can be given to us by someone else. It cannot be sculpted in stone, fixed into a formula or contained in a unchanging creed. The Word of God is both "living and active" which ultimately makes it elusive. It is not like a mathematical equation in which the answer is always the same. It is more like a personal relationship that grows and deepens over time.
The purpose of Scripture is not primarly to tell us what to think but to empower us to think for ourselves. It has the potential to liberate us from the tyranny of dead tradition to the experience of a living connection with the divine source of life. The ultimate goal of the word of God is stated in Hebrews 8.11, "No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest." The individual can have direct contact with God. Unfortunately the Church and its teachings, and even the Bible itself, often come between the individual and God. We are often content to accept what others tell us about God rather than involving ourselves in the difficult yet rewarding task of engaging God directly. The knowledge of God is not something that can be given to us by someone else. It cannot be sculpted in stone, fixed into a formula or contained in a unchanging creed. The Word of God is both "living and active" which ultimately makes it elusive. It is not like a mathematical equation in which the answer is always the same. It is more like a personal relationship that grows and deepens over time.
4.07.2005
Real Threat to Marriages
In President Bush's re-election to a second term in office, it seems that a large part of his victory was credited to the perception of voters that he is strong on "moral issues." I would assume that a large part of this morality would be his support of an amendment to ban gay marriage, and in the logic of the conservative position, to thus strengthen the nuclear (or nukular!) family. Here is my suggestion. If conservatives are truly concerned about the family they will open their eyes to the real threat to families in our country. Single people are far more of a threat to the family than gays. For one thing the reality is that there are a lot more singles than gays, thus making a single person more statistically likely to wreck a happy marriage than a gay person. And it is clear that single people actually choose to be single (whereas many homosexual persons say that they have no choice in their homosexuality), and thus blatantly flaunt the institution of marriage! And on top of this outrage singles largely reject the truly legitimate function of human sexuality as a means to procreation and the blessedness of having children. This brazen attack on the foundation of marriage just makes one's blood boil! For those that may be questioning the validity of this "moral issue" I would simply refer them to some of the first words in the Bible where God says, "It is not good for the man (and by extension I would assume woman also) to be alone."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)