Of all of the books in the Bible, Amos is perhaps one of the best examples of a teaching that remains relevant to current Western culture, even though it was written in a completely different social, political, and intellectual context. Many times, assertions about the Bible's relevance are used to justify one's own behavior and to pronounce judgment on the behavior of other people, and those who make assertions about the Bible's timeless relevance must necessarily choose some parts to leave out of that assessment. Amos should not be one of those ignored books, even though the message of this prophet may be difficult for some people to accept.
Amos lived at a time when the Israelites existed in a divided society. There were some people who were doing very well -- financially well off, politically influential, religiously pious -- and there was the vast majority of people, who were impoverished and largely ignored. The wealthy lived under the belief that their possessions and influence were rewards for living pious lives, and they were characterized by patriotism and personal pride. They believed that they were entitled to their wealth and circumstances, and they constructed a worldview that justified ignoring, oppressing, or at least looking down upon the vast majority of people. Amos saw this system as unjust, and he saw the state religion as excusing and promoting those inherent injustices. His message to the people of his day was that religious practices mean nothing if they do not inspire people to lead lives of justice and respect toward others. To be clear, "justice" in this sense does not mean that people who have done something wrong will pay for their crimes; "justice" means that people have equal treatment under the law -- that some people in a society are not made to suffer so that others can be comfortable.
The short book of Amos can be summed up with just a few essential points. First, he chastises people not to long for the Day of the Lord, what some people today still talk about in terms of a "rapture" or a "second coming." Amos suggests that those who long for the End of Days do so out of ignorance and an inflated sense of self-importance. Instead, the prophet urges people to care for one another, to stop fearfully hoarding wealth and power at the expense of others, and to actually build a society of equity and fairness. It was perhaps easy for ancient people, as it is for some people today, to place all hope in a supernatural event -- some final accounting that would bring impartial justice and peace beyond human control. Amos says that this is foolish. For Amos, a just and equitable society established and sustained by human beings is not only possible, it is expected. Although he didn't phrase it this way, Amos envisioned a society that reflected the guiding principle that all people have innate value -- or at least that all Jews have innate value. Finally, Amos points to the hardships and challenges that the people have faced as disciplinary lessons that have gone unacknowledged. The entire society has suffered because of the system of injustice and unrighteousness, and yet those who had the power to change things kept heading in the same direction, oblivious. Eventually, Amos threatens, the society will be destroyed because of its inherent injustice and greed.
In American society today, there are some who have confused patriotic fervor with religious piety, and there are some who believe that God rewards religious displays with wealth and power. Some people think that they are entitled to the possessions and the influence they have because of their spiritual practices, and based on that claim, there are obviously others who do not deserve similar wealth or influence. Is there injustice in American society as there was in the time of Amos? Are there any who suffer so that others may succeed? Are there people who brag about their own faithfulness while ignoring or insulting people who have less? Are there people who believe that it is more important to protect what they have than it is to share with those less fortunate?
It's easy for all of us to slip into a sense of entitlement from time to time. We may even want justice, but we often don't want it to cost us anything personally. The kind of society Amos envisioned requires something more. Some of us may even hear the noble voice of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reciting the words of Amos 5:24, "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." Like Amos, Dr. King envisioned a society based on justice -- a culture that supports doing that which acknowledges the human dignity of all people, not because it is profitable or required by law, but simply because it is the right way to treat people. Like Amos, Dr. King knew that building such a society required some hard work.
As a society and as a global community, we have choices about how we view and treat one another. We have choices about the level of social stratification we will support. We have choices about what sort of a difference we will make. If we act out of a sense of entitlement and step on other people in order to reach higher for ourselves, if we look down upon those who have less and assume that those who have less obviously deserve less, we can feed an unjust system as it spirals into self-destruction. If we place a higher priority on justice, equity, and compassion, we might establish a more sustainable society built on the fact that no one truly deserves to be oppressed and no one truly deserves to be an oppressor. It may be difficult to set aside personal comfort or the belief that we have certain entitlements over and above other people. The question is: Is it worth it? Is a better society -- a better world -- worth us giving up a bit of our fear-driven delineations between who is worthy and who is unworthy?
Although Amos does tend to use shame as a tool, there is no reason to spend time feeling guilty or ashamed about our circumstances. Even though we are not entitled to live the lives we have, and even though we don't necessarily deserve any particular quality of life, there is also not a lot of be gained by being ashamed of what we have. It's more a matter of what we do with what we have. For myself, I want to strive first and foremost to see the inherent value in every person. I want to contribute to a society that thrives because people realize that we live in abundance, that personal comfort and convenience are luxuries and not entitlements, and that we all need one another. I want to contribute to a society in which people do not give credence to self-centered, reward-based, prideful religious practices, but instead use spiritual practices as tools to grow as individuals and communities who love, respect, and honor one another. As I read Amos, it seems that this is the kind of society he hoped for. Perhaps the time has come to build it in earnest.
Showing posts with label preserving power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preserving power. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Monday, November 26, 2012
1 Kings 1-2: Violence. Easy, Base, Fearful, Primal Violence (and hope for a wiser and more noble future)
One of the primary themes in The Godfather is the infectious spread of violence when a person is willing to kill another in order to make life a little easier. Once dishonorable man thinks, "Why should I negotiate with someone or make less of a profit from my shady dealings when I could just remove the obstacle altogether with a bit of murder?" From there, a cycle of vengeance costs many lives. In one scene, Michael Corleone is walking through an Italian village and asks, "Where are all the men?" His bodyguard responds, "They have all been killed in vendettas." When Michael's father dies and he gains the throne of the family, so to speak, his first act is to order the strategic deaths of his chief enemies. The story of Solomon's rise to power at the beginning of 1 Kings also reads like a gangster tale.
It is somewhat amusing that David admonishes Solomon to keep all of the laws that Moses gave them, and then encourages him to kill troublemakers. Perhaps in his old age he forgot that one of those Mosaic laws forbade murdering people. Or perhaps that law was moot given all of the laws that were punishable by the death penalty. Or perhaps David knew that when the king does it, it isn't illegal. In any case, Solomon is not thought of as evil in the least because of his violent actions; he is deemed wise.
Incidentally, by the time the writers of the Books of Chronicles recorded the story, they summarize in one sentence: When David was old and full of years, he made his son Solomon king over Israel (1 Chr. 23:1). Adonijah is never mentioned as a pretender to the throne, and Solomon's violent rise to power is no longer an important part of the tale. Chronicles contains much more about the preparations for the temple, in which David is more intensely involved before his death than in the Samuel/Kings account. It's possible that this later document's less violent version of the story indicates a shift in the culture; perhaps the Jewish people in Babylonian exile learned to abhor violence. If that is the case, though, we have somehow managed to regress.
After three thousand years, we still haven't quite figured out how to solve problems without violence. Part of it has to do with power. When some people want to feel powerful, they think that violent actions toward another person will do the trick. And when people perceive themselves as powerless, they are more likely to do desperate things. At either end of the spectrum, it becomes challenging to see other people as valuable human beings. Maybe it becomes difficult to see oneself as a valuable human being as well. When a sense of human dignity is discarded, we are capable of justifying some rather shameful behavior.
In some parts of the world at this very moment, there are groups of people living out the conviction that their survival depends on killing another group of people. Violence seems like the only reaction to their circumstances that makes any sense. And perhaps they are right. There are very few people getting wealthy from trying to end such conflicts. Peace just isn't a lucrative enterprise, it would seem. At least not in the short term. There is certainly money to be made from equipping violent people with implements of destruction, however. Desperation obviously makes for ideal consumers.
It isn't necessarily wrong that violence is the only possible response for some groups of people whose survival is threatened. In their current circumstances, perhaps they would be quiet victims of genocide if they didn't take desperate and violent action. The real issue, perhaps, is why we are content to live in a world in which those circumstances are possible. We aren't necessarily talking about new dictators killing off the competition like Solomon. Some of the ongoing violence in the world is unnecessary if people were willing to see others as human beings worthy of dignity and respect. That would require certain people or groups to give up something, though, and we are wired to hold on to every bit of money or property that we get our hands on. Our survival depends on it, as far as our subconscious primal fears are concerned.
We have all of history to show us that violence begets violence when we are left to our automatic reactivity. We justify it with righteous indignation when we are the offenders, and we condemn it with vehement outrage when we are its victims -- or when there is some political value to affiliating ourselves with one side or the other. We want it to seem as though we have no choice, but there are always choices. There is a way that honors and respects people as fellow human beings -- that acknowledges the value, beauty, and dignity of all people. There is a way that calls upon our innate creativity rather than our primal reactivity. We can be more than animals if we choose to be.
Finding solutions without resorting to the easy path of violence will require some shifts in our perspective. Fears about survival will have to be confronted and dismantled. The desire for enough wealth and power to subjugate other people will have to be seen for what it is: a bestial response to fear. It will take work to see people differently and treat people with respect, especially since our fearful ways of seeing people are so well-rehearsed. There will be moments when we slip as a species, but we are more than the sum of our evolutionary subconscious reactions. We have some measure of control over our decisions, and the more we strive to make conscious decisions based on a deeper truth, beauty, and creativity, the easier those decisions will be.
Solomon was said to be wise, and yet he was the last ruler over a united Israelite kingdom. If even the wisest Israelite couldn't conceive of a better way than violent reactivity -- if even the wisest Israelite couldn't create a better society with longevity beyond his own lifespan -- what hope do we have? I'm sure at some point, this was the excuse of the Israelite people. It's a tempting excuse to be sure. "Better people than I have tried and failed, so what hope do I have?" Every hope in the world. The only reason we consider some people to be better than us is because they tried. Their level of achievement places no limitation on you.
If we do nothing to create the lives we most deeply want and the world we most want to live in, that is our choice (and not a terribly wise one at that). It has nothing to do with our capability and everything to do with our fear. Solomon was an imaginary figure. Even if he was based on a flesh and blood human being, what we know of him is a fantasy. His perceived limitations do not in any way define the limits of human potential. We are capable of more. We simply must decide to walk a different path. We must persistently determine to see more clearly the value of every person. It is not necessarily an easy path, but it is most assuredly a wise path.
It is somewhat amusing that David admonishes Solomon to keep all of the laws that Moses gave them, and then encourages him to kill troublemakers. Perhaps in his old age he forgot that one of those Mosaic laws forbade murdering people. Or perhaps that law was moot given all of the laws that were punishable by the death penalty. Or perhaps David knew that when the king does it, it isn't illegal. In any case, Solomon is not thought of as evil in the least because of his violent actions; he is deemed wise.
Incidentally, by the time the writers of the Books of Chronicles recorded the story, they summarize in one sentence: When David was old and full of years, he made his son Solomon king over Israel (1 Chr. 23:1). Adonijah is never mentioned as a pretender to the throne, and Solomon's violent rise to power is no longer an important part of the tale. Chronicles contains much more about the preparations for the temple, in which David is more intensely involved before his death than in the Samuel/Kings account. It's possible that this later document's less violent version of the story indicates a shift in the culture; perhaps the Jewish people in Babylonian exile learned to abhor violence. If that is the case, though, we have somehow managed to regress.
After three thousand years, we still haven't quite figured out how to solve problems without violence. Part of it has to do with power. When some people want to feel powerful, they think that violent actions toward another person will do the trick. And when people perceive themselves as powerless, they are more likely to do desperate things. At either end of the spectrum, it becomes challenging to see other people as valuable human beings. Maybe it becomes difficult to see oneself as a valuable human being as well. When a sense of human dignity is discarded, we are capable of justifying some rather shameful behavior.
In some parts of the world at this very moment, there are groups of people living out the conviction that their survival depends on killing another group of people. Violence seems like the only reaction to their circumstances that makes any sense. And perhaps they are right. There are very few people getting wealthy from trying to end such conflicts. Peace just isn't a lucrative enterprise, it would seem. At least not in the short term. There is certainly money to be made from equipping violent people with implements of destruction, however. Desperation obviously makes for ideal consumers.
It isn't necessarily wrong that violence is the only possible response for some groups of people whose survival is threatened. In their current circumstances, perhaps they would be quiet victims of genocide if they didn't take desperate and violent action. The real issue, perhaps, is why we are content to live in a world in which those circumstances are possible. We aren't necessarily talking about new dictators killing off the competition like Solomon. Some of the ongoing violence in the world is unnecessary if people were willing to see others as human beings worthy of dignity and respect. That would require certain people or groups to give up something, though, and we are wired to hold on to every bit of money or property that we get our hands on. Our survival depends on it, as far as our subconscious primal fears are concerned.
We have all of history to show us that violence begets violence when we are left to our automatic reactivity. We justify it with righteous indignation when we are the offenders, and we condemn it with vehement outrage when we are its victims -- or when there is some political value to affiliating ourselves with one side or the other. We want it to seem as though we have no choice, but there are always choices. There is a way that honors and respects people as fellow human beings -- that acknowledges the value, beauty, and dignity of all people. There is a way that calls upon our innate creativity rather than our primal reactivity. We can be more than animals if we choose to be.
Finding solutions without resorting to the easy path of violence will require some shifts in our perspective. Fears about survival will have to be confronted and dismantled. The desire for enough wealth and power to subjugate other people will have to be seen for what it is: a bestial response to fear. It will take work to see people differently and treat people with respect, especially since our fearful ways of seeing people are so well-rehearsed. There will be moments when we slip as a species, but we are more than the sum of our evolutionary subconscious reactions. We have some measure of control over our decisions, and the more we strive to make conscious decisions based on a deeper truth, beauty, and creativity, the easier those decisions will be.
Solomon was said to be wise, and yet he was the last ruler over a united Israelite kingdom. If even the wisest Israelite couldn't conceive of a better way than violent reactivity -- if even the wisest Israelite couldn't create a better society with longevity beyond his own lifespan -- what hope do we have? I'm sure at some point, this was the excuse of the Israelite people. It's a tempting excuse to be sure. "Better people than I have tried and failed, so what hope do I have?" Every hope in the world. The only reason we consider some people to be better than us is because they tried. Their level of achievement places no limitation on you.
If we do nothing to create the lives we most deeply want and the world we most want to live in, that is our choice (and not a terribly wise one at that). It has nothing to do with our capability and everything to do with our fear. Solomon was an imaginary figure. Even if he was based on a flesh and blood human being, what we know of him is a fantasy. His perceived limitations do not in any way define the limits of human potential. We are capable of more. We simply must decide to walk a different path. We must persistently determine to see more clearly the value of every person. It is not necessarily an easy path, but it is most assuredly a wise path.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Numbers 16-17: The Endless Pursuit of Preserving Power and the Art of Interpreting Divinations
Moses didn't grow up in a democracy. He also didn't grow up in expansive, politically unaffiliated pastureland. Moses grew up in Egypt, where powerful families passed localized absolute political power down from one generation to the next. His example of governing or leading people was rather one-sided, unless one counts the example of his father-in-law, about which we know almost nothing. The nice thing about absolute rulership is that one never needs to learn conflict management or communication skills. Everyone else is simply expected to fall in line behind your orders. If they don't, bad things will happen to them. We see the frustration that brings about time and time again in the story of Moses' leadership, not least in Numbers 16, which records two back-to-back challenges to Moses' authority over the Israelites with a combined death toll close to 15,000 people.
One could draw a few different messages from this. Assuming that we accept the suggestion that God killed all those people because they challenged his chosen leader, we can interpolate a great many things about how believers should engage in the political spectrum. It would appear that God is in favor of granting absolute political power to a single individual, and it would appear that challenging the person God places in charge is sinful to the point of being deadly. We can assume that people who happen to be in the position of dictator were placed there because God wanted them to be, so revolution is an ungodly endeavor, even if the person in charge is doing a less than admirable job.
This actually fits with the biblical depiction of the "Pharaoh" character as well. God never suggests that the Israelites should overthrow him, or effect regime change through an assassination attempt. Pharaoh’s role as ruler of his little patch of Egypt was never contested or portrayed as unjust. And it is with that example in mind that the governance of the Israelites emerges as an unassailable dictatorship. As every gangster film ever made has taught us, it's difficult to hang on to that kind of power. When the Bible tells us that 14,700 people died from a plague because they complained that Moses had just killed 250 people for complaining, God is the one who is clearly responsible for the deaths. According to the story, Moses didn't really kill anyone. But placing that sort of behavior on God has some other dangerous implications.
Why are some people so convinced that God is in favor of democracy? He supposedly had the chance to tell Moses exactly how to do things, and he apparently didn't mention democracy once. Even so, how can some Christians in the United States rail against the president and cry for impeachment when they know that God kills people for that sort of thing? If a divine power appoints leaders that are not to be criticized, why are some believers so convinced that God wants them to be involved in politics at all? And if God punishes people with death for complaining against the behavior of their leader, why do some Christians get so up in arms when a dictator abuses his power somewhere in the world?
There is something within us that recognizes that we are all connected as human beings. We call it human rights, and we refer to human dignity and such, but whatever terminology we use, there is something within us that is offended by a politically powerful person hurting less politically powerful people. We know that there is something wrong with genocide. We know that there is something wrong with testing weapons on innocents. We have started to become a bit jaded by this point, but a part of us knows that there is something wrong with using violence to solve our problems. Even people who vehemently defend preemptive aggression know in some part of themselves that there's something wrong with that course of action.
We don't just intuitively know that there's something wrong with using violence to preserve or challenge power. We also have piles of historical evidence to support that belief. From the aforementioned gangster movies to gang violence in urban America to drug cartels south of the border to Middle Eastern warlords that have been at each other’s throats for millennia, violence begets violence. This is not a new idea. This is nothing original. And yet, we are often quick to promote the easy and reactive solution to the world's problems.
It's interesting to note that the people who were challenging Moses' authority in Numbers 16 weren't out for blood. They wanted to be given equal consideration, and they wanted leadership that would benefit the Israelites beyond just scraping up unidentifiable "dew flakes" from the desert generation after generation. And when the first complainers got killed, the mob that rose up in their defense wasn't trying to knock Moses completely down off his pharonic pedestal. They were just saying, "We don't approve of you causing those people's deaths." I guess the example of divine violence in response to those complaints is what gives many believers today the impression that violence is a holy ideal. It isn't.
People don't always want to do what they know is right, though. Even when we recognize the endless and futile vendetta cycles that violence provokes, we still want to be violent. Even when we realize that some complaints about our leadership have merit, we still want to defend ourselves rather than admit that we've made a mistake. Sometimes we want permission to make decisions that go against the deepest truths that we know. Sometimes we just want permission to be thoughtless – to make a choice and then not be held responsible for the consequences. And so we perform little acts of divination.
For Moses and Aaron, it was a matter of whose incense would be lit or whose staff would blossom. For us today, we may interpret divine approval from getting a particular piece of mail just after a significant phone conversation, turning on the radio just in time to hear something important, or running into someone at a neighborhood supermarket. I know some Christians who literally believe that God will provide answers to their personal problems if they just let their Bible fall open randomly. Hitting all green lights on your way across town does not mean that some supernatural overseer approves of your destination. When the man in your television set looks out into your eyes and points, he's not literally speaking to you personally. And if he is, it's a clever trick.
Whether someone is dealing out tarot cards, casting bones, reading tea leaves, or treating scripture like a fortune cookie, divinations work because of what we already know. We already know what we believe is right in a given circumstance, and we already know what we actually want. We use divinations of various kinds to give us permission not to think too hard about it when a conflict arises between what we believe and what we want in the moment. When we actually take the time to consider what we believe and what we want, we stand a pretty good chance of learning something about ourselves. We might reconsider our beliefs, or they might be refined a bit. We might realize that what we want is superficial or petty compared to beliefs that are very important to us. Either way, we grow a bit when we actually work out those conflicts instead of relying on some kind of divination to give us an easy answer.
These chapters of the book of Numbers reveal some prevalent tendencies we slip into very easily. We want to save face. When someone challenges us, our impulse is to defend ourselves. And when we experience self-doubt or internal conflict, we often want easy third-party permission instead of in-depth self examination. We know that these things don't ultimately serve us, but they are starting point behaviors from which we can grow. Imagine a leader who could handle the criticism of 250 people without resorting to having the earth swallow them up. Imagine a leader who could admit that he exercised poor judgment in a particular instance instead of letting thousands of people die to keep his position of power intact. That would be an impressive leader. And imagine what life would be like if more people took a moment or two to think about their actions instead of letting random meaningless symbols determine things on their behalf. It wouldn't mean that people always made wise choices, but it would certainly encourage personal responsibility for those choices.
As with all change, it starts with you.
Keep growing.
One could draw a few different messages from this. Assuming that we accept the suggestion that God killed all those people because they challenged his chosen leader, we can interpolate a great many things about how believers should engage in the political spectrum. It would appear that God is in favor of granting absolute political power to a single individual, and it would appear that challenging the person God places in charge is sinful to the point of being deadly. We can assume that people who happen to be in the position of dictator were placed there because God wanted them to be, so revolution is an ungodly endeavor, even if the person in charge is doing a less than admirable job.
This actually fits with the biblical depiction of the "Pharaoh" character as well. God never suggests that the Israelites should overthrow him, or effect regime change through an assassination attempt. Pharaoh’s role as ruler of his little patch of Egypt was never contested or portrayed as unjust. And it is with that example in mind that the governance of the Israelites emerges as an unassailable dictatorship. As every gangster film ever made has taught us, it's difficult to hang on to that kind of power. When the Bible tells us that 14,700 people died from a plague because they complained that Moses had just killed 250 people for complaining, God is the one who is clearly responsible for the deaths. According to the story, Moses didn't really kill anyone. But placing that sort of behavior on God has some other dangerous implications.
Why are some people so convinced that God is in favor of democracy? He supposedly had the chance to tell Moses exactly how to do things, and he apparently didn't mention democracy once. Even so, how can some Christians in the United States rail against the president and cry for impeachment when they know that God kills people for that sort of thing? If a divine power appoints leaders that are not to be criticized, why are some believers so convinced that God wants them to be involved in politics at all? And if God punishes people with death for complaining against the behavior of their leader, why do some Christians get so up in arms when a dictator abuses his power somewhere in the world?
There is something within us that recognizes that we are all connected as human beings. We call it human rights, and we refer to human dignity and such, but whatever terminology we use, there is something within us that is offended by a politically powerful person hurting less politically powerful people. We know that there is something wrong with genocide. We know that there is something wrong with testing weapons on innocents. We have started to become a bit jaded by this point, but a part of us knows that there is something wrong with using violence to solve our problems. Even people who vehemently defend preemptive aggression know in some part of themselves that there's something wrong with that course of action.
We don't just intuitively know that there's something wrong with using violence to preserve or challenge power. We also have piles of historical evidence to support that belief. From the aforementioned gangster movies to gang violence in urban America to drug cartels south of the border to Middle Eastern warlords that have been at each other’s throats for millennia, violence begets violence. This is not a new idea. This is nothing original. And yet, we are often quick to promote the easy and reactive solution to the world's problems.
It's interesting to note that the people who were challenging Moses' authority in Numbers 16 weren't out for blood. They wanted to be given equal consideration, and they wanted leadership that would benefit the Israelites beyond just scraping up unidentifiable "dew flakes" from the desert generation after generation. And when the first complainers got killed, the mob that rose up in their defense wasn't trying to knock Moses completely down off his pharonic pedestal. They were just saying, "We don't approve of you causing those people's deaths." I guess the example of divine violence in response to those complaints is what gives many believers today the impression that violence is a holy ideal. It isn't.
People don't always want to do what they know is right, though. Even when we recognize the endless and futile vendetta cycles that violence provokes, we still want to be violent. Even when we realize that some complaints about our leadership have merit, we still want to defend ourselves rather than admit that we've made a mistake. Sometimes we want permission to make decisions that go against the deepest truths that we know. Sometimes we just want permission to be thoughtless – to make a choice and then not be held responsible for the consequences. And so we perform little acts of divination.
For Moses and Aaron, it was a matter of whose incense would be lit or whose staff would blossom. For us today, we may interpret divine approval from getting a particular piece of mail just after a significant phone conversation, turning on the radio just in time to hear something important, or running into someone at a neighborhood supermarket. I know some Christians who literally believe that God will provide answers to their personal problems if they just let their Bible fall open randomly. Hitting all green lights on your way across town does not mean that some supernatural overseer approves of your destination. When the man in your television set looks out into your eyes and points, he's not literally speaking to you personally. And if he is, it's a clever trick.
Whether someone is dealing out tarot cards, casting bones, reading tea leaves, or treating scripture like a fortune cookie, divinations work because of what we already know. We already know what we believe is right in a given circumstance, and we already know what we actually want. We use divinations of various kinds to give us permission not to think too hard about it when a conflict arises between what we believe and what we want in the moment. When we actually take the time to consider what we believe and what we want, we stand a pretty good chance of learning something about ourselves. We might reconsider our beliefs, or they might be refined a bit. We might realize that what we want is superficial or petty compared to beliefs that are very important to us. Either way, we grow a bit when we actually work out those conflicts instead of relying on some kind of divination to give us an easy answer.
These chapters of the book of Numbers reveal some prevalent tendencies we slip into very easily. We want to save face. When someone challenges us, our impulse is to defend ourselves. And when we experience self-doubt or internal conflict, we often want easy third-party permission instead of in-depth self examination. We know that these things don't ultimately serve us, but they are starting point behaviors from which we can grow. Imagine a leader who could handle the criticism of 250 people without resorting to having the earth swallow them up. Imagine a leader who could admit that he exercised poor judgment in a particular instance instead of letting thousands of people die to keep his position of power intact. That would be an impressive leader. And imagine what life would be like if more people took a moment or two to think about their actions instead of letting random meaningless symbols determine things on their behalf. It wouldn't mean that people always made wise choices, but it would certainly encourage personal responsibility for those choices.
As with all change, it starts with you.
Keep growing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)