John 10:22-42 Trailblazing

When you begin to develop your emotional maturity beyond where it has been, an interesting thing often happens. You might start to notice how many people around you are emotionally immature. It isn’t that everybody else suddenly changed. Your perspective changes when you start engaging in some deeper personal work. It can be tempting to just settle back into a comfortable level of emotional immaturity, particularly since you developed most of your relationships at that lower level of emotional maturity. If we want to cast more inspiring vision for our lives, though, we have to experience the growing pains of developing ourselves into the capacity required to journey toward what we want.

This is largely what John 10:22–42 is about. The crowd meets the Jesus character in this passage with hostility, because he’s saying things in a way that challenges their assumptions. He has insights they don’t have, and he wants to share his knowledge with them so that they might grow. Sharing insights with people who are comfortable where they are is often met with defiance, however, even in the real world of the twenty-first century. The Jesus character sets up an example for us as people growing in emotional maturity and developing a clear vision for our lives.

Primarily, he gently sticks to his insights. When you are in a room full of people who are used to doing things a certain way, and you have a revolutionary idea, that room full of people might not want to hear your innovative thoughts. Even if you have researched more than anyone else and tested theories in your own life, people may not be interested in hearing what you have to say. The Jesus character shows patience, attempts to persuade them to consider the merits of his insights, and gives the crowd a chance to let down their defenses a little bit. Then, he moves on. He doesn’t insist that they agree with him. He accepts their belligerence and moves on.

Of course, the explanations that the authors of John express through the Jesus character are a bit difficult to hear. They don’t use plain language. They use metaphors and provocative terminology. It is almost as if the way the ideas are expressed is intended to rouse the ire of the crowd. This is not an example worth following. If you want people to listen to you, use language they can hear. If you want a small band of friends who agree with you and a massive adversarial population against you, use nuanced, unclear, incendiary turns of phrase.

If we translate the words put in the Jesus character’s mouth into greater clarity, we might interpret this passage (John 10:25–38) as:

The exemplar said, “Listen, what I’m doing is well-aligned with my deepest, most noble self, and if you look at my actions, then you know my values. You don’t trust that, because you are used to living by a set of external rules. You’re constantly reacting to your own anxieties and the anxieties of people around you. The people who are connected to their deepest, most noble selves understand what I’m doing. The example that I’m setting—to live by a meaningful set of deep values—is the way to live a truly fulfilling life. Once you have lived into that level of personal satisfaction, nobody can convince you that you ought to be doing something different. What my deepest, most noble self prompts me to do is more compelling than any set of external rules or societal expectations.” 

The crowd responded with violence. The exemplar replied, “Everything I’m doing contributes to the well-being of everyone around me. With which of those actions do you take offense?” The crowd answered, “We don’t take offense at your actions, but at your arrogance. You talk about connection with your deepest most noble self and your principles like you’re better than everyone else.” 

The exemplar replied, “Do you think I consider myself uniquely capable? Do you not realize that everyone has the capacity to connect with a deepest, most noble self? To develop a compelling vision of a best possible version of oneself? Every person has the ability to clarify meaningful guiding principles and live by them with integrity. If you would choose to do so, you would act for the greater well-being as I do. You can see by my actions that my way is noble and beneficial. Your unwillingness to live by my example is what truly limits you.” The crowd wouldn’t relent in their hostility, so the exemplar slipped away.

No matter how insightful, tactful, or purposeful you are, there will be those who take insult at your intentionality and integrity. Some people will assume that because you have a vision of how you will move toward what you most want, they are somehow prevented from moving toward what they most want, even though few people have connected with themselves deeply enough to know what they actually want.

On the other hand, there will also be people who are inspired by your path. Sometimes, we have a tendency to focus more on the people who disapprove of us, the people who call our ideals or even our value into question. Chances are that there are also a few people who are ready to encourage and support us. Sometimes we may need to let them know when we need a little encouragement and support. And sometimes the people who believe in us also challenge us and help bring us back on course when we get distracted.

Part of our own challenge is not to fall into the same trap the crowd of John 10 falls into. When we see someone doing something inspiring or admirable, we might learn something from them that can contribute to our own journey. We may not agree with their reasoning or their beliefs, but if we can tell that they are contributing to building a better world, we can hopefully accept some differences of opinion in service to a greater goal. We don’t need to dismiss the good work that someone does just because they believe something different from us. In fact, we can appreciate and acknowledge someone and still challenge some of their ideas respectfully.

So, it’s important for us to find those people who are more emotionally mature than we are—who are a little further along in their journey than we are in ours. And it’s important for us to recognize that, as we move forward, a lot of people we know are going to resist that forward motion. The people who know us and approve of us as we are today would be most comfortable if we stayed just as we are today. When we grow, we can expect that some people around us won’t like it. Hopefully, they don’t actually pick up stones to throw at us, but even their words of derision or hostility can hurt. Even so, our deep values most likely steer us toward compassion and not retaliation. Most importantly, there will be people who see what we are doing and decide to journey with us, even if they are not the people we started the journey with or even the people we hoped for. 

A Little Experiment: Speak. Practice speaking what's so for you without insisting that others agree with you. It may be tempting to get defensive or "persuasive." How do others respond when you just speak for yourself? Is it different from the way they respond when you try to convince them of something?

Another Little Experiment: Focus. It helps us to grow when we have others sharpening and challenging us in a supportive and empowering way. Lots of people think they know better than you. You may receive advice or "correction" from a great many people if you're willing to listen. Not all of those people are wise, however. Consider how other people are living out their values in their own lives, and choose the people who will offer you the best consistent challenge and sharpening.

A Big Experiment: Forecasting. It is said that if we look at the people we spend the most time around today, we can see what we will be like in five years. So, take a look at the people you spend the most time around. Do they reflect who you want to be in five years? Are you being influenced in a direction that makes sense and is satisfying to you?

Isaiah 34-35: Creating Our Own "Holy Way"

The next two chapters of Isaiah are contrasting predictions about the fates of "Yahweh's people" and the fates of everybody else. Some of the symbolic themes from previous portions of Isaiah return here. The blindness and deafness that Yahweh commanded the prophet to enforce (Is 6:9-12) will now be removed. Water, symbolic in much of the prophetic literature, is used here as an assurance of life, but of course only Yahweh's people will have access to the streams and pools of water in the wilderness. After acknowledging the literary context of these prophecies, we might gain something from recognizing one last time the flaws in the suggested dependence upon a supernatural and the Us vs Them perspective of this prophetic writing before considering a more intentional perspective that might better align with our guiding principles.

These are the final poetic chapters of "Proto-Isaiah"; after a short narrative, the book of Isaiah continues with words written at a much later time, as indicated by specific historical references in the text. Recall that no autograph of the book of Isaiah has been discovered, and that the earliest copy we have is from the early first century BCE. On top of that, there are thousands of differences between existing copies of the book. One prevailing conclusion by scholars is that the book was assembled by an editor from disparate writings (perhaps by the same author or school of authors). Thus, the sequence in which the writings appear may have been determined by someone at a much later time than when they were written. The only thing we can honestly assess is the end product, because we don't have anything earlier to examine. At the same time, honest assessment must include the fact that we cannot know the intentions of the author, and that the sequence in which texts are read has an influence on their interpretation.

In fact, "interpretation" may not even be the right word for what we do with such texts. We often read through the lens of our own wisdom and values, and we judge what we read based on what we already believe. The Unitarian Universalist tradition, for instance, currently recognizes six broad sources: direct experience, the words and deeds of prophetic people, ethical and spiritual wisdom from the world's religions, the call to love our neighbors in Jewish and Christian teachings, Humanist teachings, and the spiritual teachings of earth-centered traditions. The intrinsic values of Unitarian Universalism were not drawn from these sources, however; the accepted values informed the choices of sources. The whole of Jewish and Christian scripture is not compatible with Unitarian Universalism, just as the whole of Islamic or Humanist teachings is not compatible with Unitarian Universalism. Our values are the scales on which the merits of a particular text are weighed.

This is true of everyone. American Christians reading the Bible do not honestly accept everything within its pages as legitimate timeless ethical and moral truth. They all recognize, to varying degrees, that there are cultural differences between twenty-first century Western society and the ancient Middle-Eastern societies in which the biblical texts originated. They determine the validity of a particular portion of scripture not based on the fact that it is in the Bible, but based on a set of values that they already accept as guiding principles in their lives. To be sure, those values are also supported by some portions of scripture. The call to reconciliation and love in human relationships is a major theme in the Bible, for instance. Yet, this theme is in conflict with passages like Isaiah 34-35, in which it is clear that the enemies of Judah are considered to be the enemies of Yahweh, and proclaiming their destruction is justified in the name of religious superiority. This is incompatible with the values of reconciliation and love.

Even if one interprets Isaiah as saying that human beings are free to seek reconciliation and love because God will take care of those other people, this does not resolve the conflict. The Bible also suggests that human beings are supposed to be emulators of God, and a perception of God as vengeful and destructive creates some problems. Readers of the Bible have to be selective and discerning, and that selectivity and discernment derives from the values through which the pages are read. We are always going to be biased readers. We can only strive to have biases that reflect our deepest values rather than our fears.

This brings us to a couple of flaws in the writing that we have noted before, but which bear repeating. Isaiah 33 and 34 both express a reliance on a supernatural to either punish or provide. There is surely some comfort in the idea that God is going to punish the people you don't like, although laying waste to the environment may be a bit extreme. There is surely some comfort in the promise that everything will be alright for you because God will provide what you need. There are problems with the implied converse of these assumptions, though. What happens when you do not have the things that you need? Has God abandoned you? Are you wicked? Are you being punished, or are you supposed to take comfort in the eventual good things that God is going to do, even if they happen long after you are dead? What about other people who suffer? If God has promised to provide for what his people need, doesn't it follow that people who are hungry or thirsty or oppressed are not God's people, and are thus wicked? The implications of God's partiality and the impossibility of interpreting "divine will" make such promises very problematic, even though they provide some shallow comfort.

Seeing the world as Us vs Them is a natural perspective for people to adopt. We are fearful by nature, and if we let our fear be in control, then we might imagine anything and anyone as a threat. We want to be right, and thus in our anxiety about possibly being wrong, we construct a worldview in which everyone else is wrong and blind to it. Thus, we get to be right at the expense of connection with other human beings, or at the expense of ever growing beyond what we are currently able to do in the world. Our fears are not values.

The people of ancient Judah were put in a position -- as the result of warfare -- in which they were in a constant state of acute fear. Foreign soldiers were laying siege to their cities and taking them into exile. They were not in a position to live by their values. They were living desperate lives. This happened multiple times in the history of Israel, and it is happening in some places today. People cannot live by a set of deep values when their lives are constantly threatened by legitimate, real dangers. It's important to know who is safe and who is dangerous when your life is literally on the line, and it's natural to invent some stories about the people who seem dangerous. In those stories, the people you perceive as dangerous are obviously going to be the bad guys, and when you feel desperate and powerless, the most hopeful story you can tell might seem to be that a powerful superhuman force will punish the bad guys and rescue the helpless victims.

Our tendency, though, is that we sometimes see ourselves as victims when we aren't. We sometimes feel threatened when we aren't. We sometimes believe we are powerless when we aren't. And we still make up stories about the people we perceive as dangerous, even when they aren't an actual threat to our safety and well-being. We have to learn to recognize the difference between actual threats to our well-being and anxiety that originates and thrives inside our own heads. There may be a lot of different people on the planet with a lot of different beliefs and a lot of anxiety prompting them to tell stories about how the wicked will be punished and the righteous will be saved, but in actuality, our well-being depends upon the well-being of everyone else. There is no Them. There is only one big Us. This idea may be as much of a hard sell to the oppressors as it is to the oppressed, but those of us who can recognize this simple truth and start living it out in our lives can influence things toward greater hope for everyone.

This is the real power that Isaiah 34 and 35 miss: Human beings are responsible for human relationships. The problems we create will not be resolved by supernatural intervention. We are responsible for living according to our values. We are responsible for finding solutions to the challenges in our lives. We are responsible to the people around us -- the people with whom we share our lives, our communities, and our world. There is no more empowering and hopeful truth than this. It just isn't necessarily what we want to hear when we look around and see evidence that other people are not behaving very responsibly. Since we can't really control anybody but ourselves, it's tempting to want a more powerful entity to take care of all the irresponsible people in the world and reward us for being so awesome. That isn't going to happen. We need a more reliable approach to navigating our own awareness of human responsibility and the apparent lack of awareness around us.

First, we can be more aware of our values. We are constantly interpreting the things we read and hear through the lens of our values, but we don't often take the time to articulate just what those values are. When we are aware of the ideals that matter most to us, it's much easier to determine how we want to be in particular situations, and it's much clearer when we are reacting out of anxiety or fears that are not aligned with our values.

Second, we can stand to see a larger perspective. When we are willing to bear witness to the actual suffering that takes place in the lives of people in more poverty-stricken countries, for instance, or even in the lives of people in our own neighborhoods, our own sense of suffering might be more realistic. We might be less inclined to play the role of victim inappropriately, and we might be less inclined to demonize other people for petty reasons. Our lives have value, and we need not be so self-sacrificial that we deny ourselves what we need. Still, being honest about our own positions on the spectrum of human suffering can help us live more intentionally.

Third, we can recognize our role in the world. Once we know what we care about most deeply, we can start living more intentionally according to those values. When we are willing to see the realities of people's lives, we can start to see opportunities to influence things toward greater well-being. This might mean funding education for a girl on the other side of the world, or it might mean spending time with people in our own neighborhoods. Our values and our own personal passions will guide us toward ways that we can influence the world, even if it is in some seemingly small way. I personally don't like building or fixing up people's homes, but I know a lot of people who love swinging a hammer. I really love teaching and tutoring people, whether its educating people about human trafficking or tutoring folks in a GED program. Some folks would be terrified to stand up and speak to a group of people. We all have values and passions that can direct us toward meaningful action.

This is how we contribute to a better world. We cannot wait for a supernatural to sweep in and destroy all the people we choose to see as villains and create a lush and thriving landscape just for us. This is not a realistic hope. Such stories might symbolically represent something to us, but our real hope is in our values and our willingness to live intentionally by them. Our ability to recognize our values and live intentionally is not impeded by other people's lack of awareness. This doesn't have to create an Us and Them dichotomy, but it's alright to acknowledge that some of us are becoming more practiced at managing our anxiety. We may be frustrated sometimes by other people, but if we look around, we will probably also spot some people who are living more intentionally. Two or three people with shared values and a willingness to live intentionally might be able to create more together than one person can create alone. Having community with people who have shared values can be a source of hope when we start to feel angry or frustrated.

So, what are your values? What ideals matter most deeply to you?
Where are you on the spectrum of human suffering? Do you need to focus on your own well-being before you consider how you can positively influence other people's lives?
What actions do your values and passions call you toward?
Who are your potential collaborators? With whom will you build partnership and mutual support?

The answers to these questions strengthen weak hands and make feeble knees firm. The answers to these questions inspire courage and help to dismantle irrational fear. The answers to these questions help us see and hear and act and speak with greater clarity. The answers to these questions are our streams in the desert, our refreshment and empowerment in life. The answers to these questions are our Holy Way, and all are welcome to travel on it. (cf. Is 35:3-8)

Jeremiah 8:8-12: Condemning of Sweet, Empty Words and Overconfident Entitlement

In the midst of a move and other time-consuming life events, this week is a bit out of sequence and a bit on the scholarly side perhaps, but I trust that you will ask for clarification where needed. If you want the short version, read the brief Jeremiah passage and then skip to the last three paragraphs!
 
Although scholars do not universally agree about the literary seams of Jer 8 (as is largely the case with the entire book of Jeremiah), the poetry of vv. 8–12 paints a clear and concise picture of the delinquency of pre-exilic Jewish society and the resulting consequences. While determining a specific date of composition for these verses is nigh on impossible, they fit well with the circumstances of Jehoiakim’s reign, during which time Jeremiah is known to have experienced conflict with priests and prophets.[1] It is conceivable that some of the consequences indicated in this passage refer to Nebuchadnezzar’s siege of Jerusalem in the wake of Jehoiakim’s refusal to pay taxes. An astute observer might have foretold such a predictable military act, or the text might have been written after the fact as a means of explaining history through a theological lens. In any case, this passage, like much of the book of Jeremiah, holds a warning against overconfidence that still has value for twenty-first century leaders.

Historically, Babylon posed a clear and present danger, but many religious authorities in Judah were apparently confident to the point of prideful entitlement. One reason for this overconfidence may have been Isaiah’s encouraging words from a century earlier, but a message appropriate for one place and time is not necessarily appropriate for all places and times.[2] Spiritual discernment requires willingness to assess one’s reality honestly, which some of the religious leaders of late Judah were apparently lacking. According to Jer 8:8, they believed that the only wisdom required was the wisdom of a written law (although there is some debate about what this written law may actually have been). Jeremiah recognized that the law was subject to interpretation. Whether out of ignorance, fear, or greed, the interpreters of the law were straying from its original intent, and thus were compromising its intended results, a just society characterized by deep and abiding peace.

Jer 8:9–10 warns that such misinterpretations cannot continue indefinitely; there are consequences for only seeing what one wants to see and ignoring one’s reality. Some of those results could be seen in Judah’s social ills, fraught with greed and injustice at every level of society, but specifically among those individuals who were supposed to lead and guide people. The ultimate consequences, however, would be much more devastating: the brutal rape of wives that accompanies being conquered by a foreign army, the confiscation of property that follows being occupied by another nation, and (although Jeremiah does not say so explicitly in this passage) the destruction of the symbolic heart of a people’s spiritual identity.

Judah had deep self-inflicted wounds, and yet those people who were in positions to correct policies and practices that denigrated people were enjoying the temporary benefits of those wounds too much to inspire change. Their habitual moral self-mutilation had gone on for so long that it had become the norm; it was impossible for the people of Judah to see the problems with their trajectory because they were in the thick of what seemed like normal life. It was impossible for them to feel appropriate shame or guilt, and thus it was impossible for them to correct their course enough to make any meaningful difference by the time they saw the crest of consequence on the horizon. To the religious mind of one like Jeremiah, it might seem that the natural results of international conflict were divine punishments carried out by a just god who could not allow insubordination to go unaddressed.

Those who spoke to the society on behalf of Yahweh exacerbated the situation. In the face of clumsy, self-inflicted spiritual amputations throughout Judean society, the spiritual leaders continued to promise that everything was just fine. For whatever reason, they continued to proclaim a message of shalom when reality was proclaiming a very different message. These so-called prophets spoke words that people wanted to hear rather than words that were spiritually authentic. According to Jeremiah, such prophets practiced deceit, and they probably received popular approval as a result. While the book of Jeremiah is frankly critical of these prophets, there is no clear indication that every prophet who spoke about deep and lasting peace was benefitting by living a luxurious lifestyle. Their misguided proclamations may not have been intentionally malicious but may have been mere lack of awareness, fueled by the same sense of confident entitlement that characterized Judah’s culture. The cries of “peace, peace” may have been their own way of clinging to the promises of Yahweh as they understood those promises, even in the midst of what seemed to be contradictory circumstances.

Textually, Jer 8:10b–12 is nearly identical to Jer 6:13–15, and while there is some disagreement about which passage was written “first,” the LXX [the early Greek translation of the Old Testament] reflects the verses only in Jer 6. This may mean that later editors saw a thematic connection and attached to Jer 8 a poem from elsewhere in a collection of Jeremiah sayings, but it is equally possible that LXX redactors removed repetitive material for reasons unknown. It is clear that both contexts reflect a pervasive interest throughout the book of Jeremiah in addressing false prophecy. Indeed, the LXX is distinct from the MT in its use of the term pseudoprophētēs (“false prophets”) later in the book (Jer 26–29).[3] The accusation against such false prophets in Jer 8 is that they convey an attractive message of peace and well-being rather than an honest message that addresses the realities of Judah’s culture, specifically pervasive injustice, apostasy, and greed.

Other threads of commonality connect this poetic passage with sections of prose in other sections of Jeremiah, such as that found in Jer 14:11–16. In this later prose passage, the specific message of shalom is additionally articulated as freedom from the sword, famine, and disease, and it is clear that the false prophets proclaiming this overconfident entitlement to special treatment from Yahweh will fall prey to the specific dangers of sword, famine, disease—incidentally the very threats that accompany the siege of a city by a foreign military force. This related prose passage in Jer 14 is the third and final ban on intercession that appears in the book as it has been assembled.[4] The first such ban appears in Jer 7, and in that earliest instance there is still some reluctance implied on the part of Yahweh; by contrast, Jer 14 reflects a deity with no internal struggle about the consequences of Judah’s decisions. Thus, Jer 8:8–12 appears within a pattern of escalation, as Yahweh is depicted as having growing conviction about the imminent fall of Jerusalem and his chosen people.

Regarding these bans against intercession and the escalating pattern of conviction in which they appear, Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer wonders whether God is “safeguarding his plans of destruction against his own compassion,”[5] and while this is a quaint thought that serves to defend God against accusations of cold-hearted wrath, it is unlikely that this was in the mind of the original writers of Jeremiah. It is clear that the ultimate consequences of societal collapse and exile were the direct result of human behavior within the culture of Judah. Prophets may look at reality honestly and seek to find God in the midst of it, but it is somewhat gratuitous to read into the book of Jeremiah an actual deity who is trying to suppress his true compassionate nature in order to carry out the effective and disciplined punishment of a good parent. Besides, later in Jeremiah, the compassion of Yahweh is expressed without reservation; there is no reason to ameliorate the sting of devastating consequences by reading into the text a hidden compassion longing to be expressed.

Reading one’s own concept of God into the text is inevitable in many ways, however. It is worth considering that, like Tiemeyer, the false prophets denounced in Jeremiah were simply reconciling their own perspectives with what they read. There is nothing inherently wicked or malicious in being limited by common human blind spots. If one reads promises attributed to one’s god, and if one believes wholeheartedly in the veracity of that god, then one is quite likely to conclude that no action by mere humans can counteract divine will. On the contrary, it is understandable why such people would look upon Jeremiah as the apostate if his words seemed to reflect a lack of faith in promises made by a completely trustworthy deity. People can ultimately only believe in their own concept of God, and once one has a firmly established understanding of God, that concept changes only with great difficulty.

An underlying accusation in Jeremiah is against the whole of society, not just those authority figures who have established a flawed interpretation of law. False prophets will be among the fallen in Jer 8:12, but they will not wholly comprise those who fall. Thus, it is inherent in Jeremiah’s message that people have a personal responsibility with regard to their own spiritual integrity; it is not enough to claim that a prophet spoke it, and thus it is unquestionable. If a society has become rotten, the members of that society share the blame. Proclaiming what people want to hear is only a path to power and comfort if the people are willing to reward sweet words without practicing a bit of scrutiny and discernment. False prophets cannot last long in a society of people who reward honesty and spiritual insight, even though there might be some challenge involved in doing so.

The cards were stacked against Judah in some ways, however. Earlier generations had passed down some seemingly unconditional promises attributed to Yahweh, and people who were supposedly trusted authorities with specialized knowledge and insight had established their religious practices. Their covenantal code, although rife with capital offenses, also suggested that most wrongdoing could be overcome if appropriate ritual actions were taken. For whatever reason, the people of Judah had succumbed to an ethnocentric pride and an unwarranted sense of entitlement and superiority, and—as with one’s concept of God—it is very difficult to take those glasses off once they have been worn for a little while. Jeremiah was trying to change the prescription lenses of people who believed that their city was made of emerald, but through the lenses he was offering, everything seemed to be made of pig iron. It was bound to be a tough sell.

It is possible to leave the words of Jeremiah in their historical context and assume that their value was for an ancient people in a set of circumstances that is utterly foreign to the twenty-first century Western world. Yet, for all of the progress that has been made since the days of ancient Judah, there are still gaping, self-inflicted societal and spiritual wounds that go unaddressed. While there is likely to be some debate about the identity of the most grievous of those wounds, some likely candidates are not very different from Jeremiah’s observations of economic injustice and greed. The primary difference is that the world has become much more blatantly interconnected than it was in the days of Jeremiah, with an economic reality that affects most of the world’s population in some way. While the twenty-first reality of interconnectedness is impossible to deny, most of the world still seems to exist in a tribal state of mind. That tribalism is also evident within the United States (and probably other nations) as adherents to varied religious ideologies—even assorted Christian denominations—vie for recognition, or even dominance, proclaiming whatever seems most attractive to people without really taking the practical steps to heal, connect, and uphold people. There is real work to be done in the world, and it is perhaps impossible to do that work sincerely while marketing one’s faith or defending one’s beliefs.

There are also still people who cry various things with prophetic-sounding voices, and it may be worth considering which of those cries are like the “peace, peace” of those whom Jeremiah criticized so harshly. Perhaps those who proclaim God’s favor with nationalistic pride would be somewhat tempered if they understood Jeremiah’s criticism more fully. The same tempering might also apply to those who blithely pronounce God’s desire for believers to be healthy and wealthy, with the added implication that God has chosen not to favor people who are not healthy and wealthy. Without demonizing every message of hope and peace, it would seem prudent to approach spiritual messages with a discerning sense of personal responsibility. Indeed, Jer 8:8–12 seems to suggest that failure to exercise such discernment can result in consequences unmitigated by divine intervention.

Other twenty-first century prophets are crying out messages that sound much closer to Jeremiah’s, at least on a first hearing. There have been cries for the creation story of some Christian sects to be taught in public schools alongside or in place of scientific theories regarding natural processes. There have been cries (sounding in some cases remarkably similar to Jeremiah’s declarations) that natural disasters or diseases are punishments on the wicked, mostly clearly exemplified in the early days of the AIDS crisis and in the wake of some recent hurricanes. These examples possess at least one subtle distinction from the call to integrity inherent in Jer 8:8–12 and similar passages. Many twenty-first century prophets seem to assert their inward beliefs or morality on external systems, insisting that people who are not a part of the Christian belief system must still abide by its standards. This is strikingly dissimilar to Jeremiah’s admonition for the people of Judah to be impeccable in their own lives. If one were to translate the cry of Jeremiah into a twenty-first century context, rather than pronouncing doom and judgment on those deemed outsiders by a Christian subculture, one would address the hearts and behavior of those who consider themselves part of the “chosen” people of God. This would require new lenses for many people, however, and one is still likely to find those who, like the people of Judah, prefer to see their world from an ideal perspective up until the moment that it collapses.

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1. Jack R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 1–20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, vol. 21a of The Anchor Bible. (New York: Doubleday, 1999), 432.

2. Walter Brueggemann, The Theology of the Book of Jeremiah. (Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 2007), Kindle Electronic Edition: Chapter 2, Loc. 1239–1247.

3. Lundbom, 430.

4. Leslie Allen, Jeremiah: A Commentary, The Old Testament Library. (Louisville: Westminster

John Knox Press, 2008), 167.

5. Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer, "God's hidden compassion," Tyndale Bulletin 57, no. 2 (January 1, 2006), 212.

1 Kings 19: The Still, Small Voice of Your Self

Obvious folklore qualities aside, 1 Kings 19 expresses a captivating spiritual idea: that truth and guidance appear in stillness more easily than in bombastic activity. The surrounding material also has a few other worthwhile points to consider.

Elijah is on the run (after he committed, or at least oversaw, the mass murder of 850 people), and long-term survival seems unlikely to him. He wants to give up. He wants to just die, but he's not really out of options. Even when things seem desperate in the moment, Elijah has choices. We will rarely be on the run after killing hundreds of people for believing something different from us, and yet there are times when we want to give up. We aren't likely to have angels come to us and provide food and encouragement, though. If we are fortunate, we may have friends stand in for Elijah's angel, but the decision to keep going is always ours to make. Elijah accomplishes quite a bit after this episode of despair. In this sense, our lives are no different. On the other side of despair, more satisfying options always await us. Even amid our desperation, our presence can still do some good in the world, even if we aren't in a position to see it.

The portion of this chapter just after Elijah senses the gentle whisper obviously "foretells" historical events in a way that affirms for the Jewish audience Yahweh's control over all things, including leadership of other peoples. Elijah's detached attitude during the calling of his successor Elisha is also notable; his confidence that he doesn't need to exert control over Elisha reflects an admirable quality of leadership. Before expounding on the still, small voice, it also bears pointing out the similarities between the angel coming to feed Elijah and the temptation stories of Jesus. Likewise, Elisha's call is reflected in a brief gospel story of would-be disciples who want to return home before joining Jesus. Unlike Elijah's calm detachment, Jesus proclaims, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God." Perhaps Elijah was able to tell that Elisha just needed to take care of a couple of things so he wouldn't be tempted to "look back." Or maybe it's just a story.

Regarding this business about stillness, though, there have been volumes written from an abundance of different perspectives. It is a very necessary and important topic that stands in stark contrast to the way many of us go about our lives. There are those who want to see God at work in every mudslide, hurricane, and tsunami, punishing humanity for one thing or another. There are also those who, even in the twenty-first century, expect divine guidance to come in some blatant, over-the-top, undeniable package like a lightning bolt or an earthquake. Some people alive today, misinterpreting Carl Jung, encourage looking for synchronicity at work around us -- "coincidences" that are linked meaningfully to reveal some deeper truth to us if we are willing to see it. This could presumably be somewhat quieter than an earthquake or a fire, but it still amounts to looking for signs outside of ourselves for guidance. 

While we might receive guidance from other people, and while some situations might offer opportunities for us to do something meaningful, there is nothing outside of ourselves guiding us into anything -- not God, not the Universe, not "Life," not our ancestors, not fairies, not aliens. The meaning that we find in circumstances comes from within ourselves. We read the meanings into the "synchronicities" of our lives. That isn't a bad thing at all; it helps us take notice of what's important to us in lives that are increasingly busy with surface-level activity. But it comes from within ourselves, not someone trying to send us secret messages. If it seems like our ideas are coming from outside of our own brains, it is  possibly because we spend so little time actually listening to ourselves -- considering what makes sense to us, what we really value, who we most want to be, what we yearn for in life. This is why stillness is so important.

There are many earthquake-sized voices in our society. Everywhere we turn, we can find someone screaming about what we must do in order to protect ourselves against all sorts of things. Everywhere we turn, it seems that someone is trying to convince us of something. It's a wonder we can ever think for ourselves with all the racket we have grown to tolerate. As loud and passionate as those voices may be, however, there is often very little meaning or value in all of the noise. It is very difficult to find truth in the throes of anxiety, and our culture does not inherently promote thoughtful response that comes from an inner stillness. Instead, we are told to act quickly, to fear being left out or left behind, to be impulsive, to defend our rights (which are always somehow under direct attack by something). If we are to be thoughtful individuals who know themselves and live with integrity, we must be responsible for our own stillness.

In stillness, we can find which threads to pull to unravel our anxieties -- the lies and assumptions that hold together our irrational fears about ourselves, other people, and the world around us. In stillness, we can dig beneath our surface level activities and recognize what matters most to us. In stillness, we can acknowledge what we are doing that we absolutely hate, just because we have convinced ourselves that we must. When we realize that there has been some perceived synchronicity or message from Life or God, we can look into ourselves and discern what our subconscious is trying to bring into focus. The meaning we place on coincidences has value -- profound value, since that meaning is coming from within our own psyches. If we are perceiving something as divine guidance, some part of ourselves is trying to make that "message" important. In stillness, we can ask ourselves why.

Without stillness, we ignore the things that matter most to us in order to do the things that seem most urgent. Without stillness, we act in ways that are incongruous with the people we claim to be, and we may not even notice it. Without stillness, we react impulsively to people and situations that challenge us, with no regard for the long-term consequences. In thoughtful stillness, we can tap into ourselves and discover who we are and what we believe apart from the anxiety around us. Through making time for a bit of stillness in our lives, we can be our own best representatives in the world. We can come closer to living like our authentic selves. Stillness brings us closer to integrity, if we allow it.

So, this snippet of Jewish folklore is revealing. If we want to search for something to call divine, we won't find it in the flashy, loud, anxiety-producing racket of the world; we will find it in stillness. It's not always easy to see in other people (or in ourselves) the beauty and creativity and value and dignity that defines us as human beings. It's not always easy to see that there are things in our lives more valuable than money, more important than convincing people to think like us, more compelling and awe-inspiring than our fears. Stillness helps us see ourselves more clearly, so that we can see other people and the world around us more clearly.

Discipleship and Responsibility

When John the Baptist is arrested for saying some unkind things about the king, Jesus takes over for him as local preacher and sect leader. Of course, some of John's disciples most likely keep his group, maintaining his ideas and ministry under new leadership. Jesus seems to use John's message as a springboard for his own ministry in the gospel stories, which may indicate that there was some rivalry between competing sects. In the gospel of Mark, we see just a couple of sentences about the thrust of Jesus' message, which the author of Matthew elaborates on in terms of geography. Luke and John both contain parallel statements about the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, although they do not tie it with an end to John the Baptist's sect. In all of these brief passages, however, it is easy to see subtle hints about why Jesus' message may have been a threat to people in positions of authority. Speaking of a new kingdom would have been a potential political threat against Roman authority, and baptizing a bunch of disciples would have been a threat to the religious status quo of Jewish culture. While all of that is fascinating, it is more a matter of history (or at least the background of the story) than of any present usefulness, aside from the truth that the conservation of power is inherently threatened by new ideas.

The ideas presented in the gospel stories would never have gained traction if one man went around spreading them without convincing anyone. In every narrative, disciples who agree with Jesus' ideas are called early and become active partners in creation. Mark presents a fairly straightforward depiction of Jesus telling a few guys to quit their jobs and follow him around for awhile, which they do without hesitation. To be fair, the idea of "fishing for men" is a clever play on words and probably seemed a bit intriguing, but most people would have required a bit more explanation about what they were signing up for. The author of Matthew copies the story verbatim, and Luke writes his own versions later on of how the disciples all met Jesus. In the gospel of John, however, there is a bit more of a story, in which John the Baptist seems to commend a couple of his disciples to Jesus. Beyond just giving people an excuse to shirk their fishing careers, Jesus says a few more impressive things in the John version of the story, suggesting that he has some superhuman knowledge.

It bears mentioning in relation to the John narrative that not all early Christian church documents consider Cephas and Peter to be the same person, and there is an Aramaic name "Petros" which means "first born" and has nothing to do with rocks. But we will return to the character of Peter in greater detail at a later time. For now, it is the concept of discipleship that holds incredible value for twenty-first century society.

We are disciples of various people in our lives as well, although most of them do not encourage us to leave our jobs and become vagabonds. Typically, we become disciples of people who seem to be more knowledgeable, wise, or experienced than we are, and we expect (or at least hope) that following these people will yield some benefit in our own lives --  that we will gain some measure of their knowledge and wisdom. For the sake of having a label for these people, let us borrow the term "guru." Some gurus tell us which books to read, some tell us how to invest our money, some tell us how to make money in the first place. We listen to people who give us insight about politics, how we should vote, and whom we should call to complain about this or that piece of legislation. We listen to child rearing gurus, health gurus, relationship gurus, and of course, religion gurus. Everywhere we turn, it seems that there are people who know more about everything in our lives than we could possibly know ourselves. And some of them do.

With a multitude of voices, however, if can be difficult to tell which guru has real valuable wisdom to offer us and which ones are loud-mouthed charlatans. Psychological research has shown that we are most inclined to follow the guru who agrees with us. Did you catch that? We are most inclined to listen to people who validate our own views. They may challenge us a little bit in one direction or another, but they get there by speaking to what we already believe about ourselves, other people, and the world. One question we must ask ourselves is whether our gurus are speaking to what we know or what we fear. The last thing we need is some purportedly wise person validating the lies and fears we have accumulated.

Sometimes, we will expect to see some modern day equivalents of signs and wonders, like Jesus telling Nathanael where he had been. A guru may have to jump through a few hoops before we commit ourselves as disciples. Multilevel marketing gurus have emotion-based presentations that demonstrate how easy it is to make money with their particular brand of snake oil. Political gurus will have the sound bites and supporting testimony from other experts to illustrate the accuracy and insight of  their righteous indignation. Churches have appealing music and a welcoming attitude to convince you that their brand of religion is better than the rest. But not all gurus are out to fool us. Some people are honestly more knowledgeable about particular matters. Many of us need to trust experts with some facets of our lives that we are ill-equipped to handle, but the concept of discipleship takes things a bit further than mere trust of a more experienced person. We sometimes become disciples of a particular person's ideas in a way that we would never devote ourselves to a mechanic or a drug store pharmacist. In becoming disciples of a concept or an individual, we run the risk of forgetting to think for ourselves; we are sometimes content to parrot what we have heard without even considering whether it makes any sense or is based on accurate data. And certain gurus will even tell us how wise we are for accepting what they say without putting too much thought into it. Discipleship is a dangerous proposition unless we continue to be responsible for our own beliefs and actions.

Given that we are so inclined to devote ourselves to people who validate our own opinions, it may seem unnecessary to question our personal gurus. After all, if we already know that they agree with us on basic principles, we can safely assume that all the details that follow are logically in line with what we already believe, right? Not necessarily. The Jesus of the gospels had a high-minded mission in which he sought collaboration. Many gurus of our day have a different sort of agenda, and in order for us to recognize that agenda, we must keep thinking. For this reason, it is valuable to listen to a multitude of perspectives, especially from people we don't revere. If we are willing to consider alternative ways of seeing the world and we still walk away with our original ideas intact, then our convictions will be the stronger for it. If we hear something that challenges our perspective however, we may have an opportunity to refine our beliefs, to sharpen what we believe so that we are better able to act in a meaningful way to create a more desirable reality in partnership with others.

Experts are not bad. We count on reliable experts in many areas of our lives. Being a disciple of an expert -- or several experts -- is not necessarily a bad thing either. The important piece is continue to weigh what our gurus tell us against reality and our own ability to think and reason. We know that people matter, and so we know that when some idea we believe or hear devalues people, there is something off target about that idea. In order for our actions to best represent us, our minds must be engaged in what we accept and reject. At our core, we know what we need to know about deep truths, and we can recognize irrational fear when we want to. If we find the concept of discipleship appealing, why not devote ourselves to those people who better equip us to dismantle our irrational fears, treat one another with respect, recognize the beauty and wonder in the real world around us, and tap into our ability to connect creatively with one another to build something meaningful in the world? We are already experts at feeding our lies and fears. We don't honestly need any help with that lesson.

Joshua 22-24: Choose This Day Whom You Will Serve

Cultural ideals and values change over time, even within a cohesive culture.  As Joshua reaches the end of his life, he gathers the Israelites one last time to reaffirm their faith and to reinforce their adherence to an insular mono-cultural religion.  Of course, the Israelites in the story agree, especially given the choices Joshua rhetorically offers.  There are lots of choices when it comes to faith and belief, however, and not all of them are mutually exclusive, either-or decisions.

Now, obviously, we are skimming past some passages in the book of Joshua.  For instance, we blew right past the beginning of Joshua 10.  Although we can find spiritual value in any story, it didn't seem particularly important to discuss God responding to Joshua's prayer for the sun to stop moving in the sky to give the Israelites an upper hand in battle.  It's one of those scenes that makes for great storytelling but cannot be taken as factual truth by anyone who understands basic physical laws.  As bizarre as it seems, in modern civilized society, there are people who will fight tooth-and-nail to defend the concept that their god can break physical laws if he wants to, even though no one has ever reliably and verifiably documented such a thing.  If it can just be a nice story that the Israelites told their children, then it's harmless.

We also don't need to spend a great deal of time on Joshua 22, in which a group of Israelite soldiers returns home after years of war and sets up a big altar.  The rest of the Israelites, accustomed to battle and bloodshed, march over there -- ready for war -- to find out what this altar is all about.  It's a testament to how our minds work.  When we are convinced that opposition and threats are all around us, we will see enemies to fight everywhere, even in the faces of those close to us.  The Israelites are portrayed as a pretty bloodthirsty people in this book.  This chapter demonstrates how their single-mindedness about conquering the Other threatened to damage their own society when they ran out of Others to conquer.  In the end, they worked it out, and everything was fine because they were willing to listen to one another -- a practice worth emulating in our personal conflicts.

In chapters 23-24, Joshua tells first the leaders and then the whole assembly of Israel that God will continue to good things for them if they continue to be obedient, and that God will do evil things to them if they are disobedient.  This is very telling.  There is no concept of a devil yet in Israelite culture, there is only their god and other people's gods.  Other people's gods were obviously inferior, and their god was mighty and awesome.  To that end, the Israelite god was capable of doing good or doing evil.  According to Joshua.  I'm not just making this up.  The God of the Old Testament, at least up until this point, is capable of doing good or evil. 

Is this the modern Christian definition of the divine character?  Probably not in most people's minds.  During a period of captivity, the Jews learned all about an Opposer, and this "Satan" became a part of their mythology.  It's convenient to split that capacity for evil away from a god that people are supposed to be able to love and trust.  It's hard to completely love or trust someone who has blatantly threatened to obliterate you from the face of the planet if you do something wrong.  This perception of God softened and changed over time because people needed something different than the Infallible Supernatural Military Leader and Imposer of Order.  People needed something a bit less volatile to believe in.

But this idea still exists, this God who is equally capable of doing great good or doing great evil.  It's in the Bible, after all.  It even leads to debates about the definitions of good and evil.  It's evil for a dictator to commit genocide just because he doesn't like what a group of people is doing, but some people could persuade themselves to think of it as righteous, justified, even good if God were to do exactly the same thing.  It's one of the primary reasons that religion and morality have become strange bedfellows.  If any act becomes good (righteous, justified, "right") if God is behind it, then God has become amoral -- beyond morality itself.  Any definition of good that doesn't contain an exclusion clause for God would seem to create problems for the god some Christians believe in.

Yet, the modern Christian view of God has evolved away from the idea that God is capable of both good and evil.  If God approves of something, in their thinking, then it must be good, because God is incapable of evil.  This is much like Nixon saying, "When the president does it, that means that it's not illegal."  In Joshua's time, there was no ethical confusion.  According to the story, their god had done some pretty impressive things when he liked what they were doing, and he had done some pretty horrible things when he didn't like what they were doing.  He had proven himself mightier than the gods of all the people the Israelites conquered, to the point of providing for the Israelites the security of homes they didn't build and the abundance of vineyards and orchards they didn't plant.  The story-book version of the Israelite god is not someone to whom you can easily say No. 

Which brings us to Joshua's last inspirational speech.  He leads the Israelites in a reaffirmation of their communal faith.  And if they weren't willing to devote themselves to the god that provided so much and threatened so effectively, he commanded them to choose what other deity they were going to serve, the gods of their forefathers or the gods of the surrounding cultures.  Not much of a choice.  It's the kind of tactic that strategic parents use: "Would you like to clean your room, or would you like for me to take away your video game privileges for a week?"  You can defy the logical choice, but there's a cost.

What if there were other choices, though?  As far as people or ideals to serve, there are many more choices than what Joshua mentioned in his ritualized reaffirmation ceremony.  Some people serve the ideals of patriotism, some people serve money, some people serve their children, some people serve nature, some people serve a particular corporation, some people serve aesthetic beauty, and more.  Some people serve more than one thing in a meaningful way.  It's worth knowing what you serve, but it isn't necessarily an either-or decision. 

It isn't enough to say, "I serve myself," because that's what everyone does when it comes down to it.  Did the Israelites have a better choice for self-preservation than to agree with Joshua?  It wouldn't have been really self-serving to provoke the wrath of their god.  It also isn't enough to say, "I serve God."  Which one?  The biblical God?  There is no such thing.  The biblical depiction of God is an inconsistent patchwork that evolved over time as a culture developed.  Which version of the biblical God do you serve?  Whatever your answer is, you will be defining the divine character based as much on personal beliefs as on biblical depictions.  What matters to you about the character of God is based on what matters to you personally.

Joshua's admonition still has some value.  You don't have to choose "this day;" there's no pressure.  It's worth a little thought, though.  What or whom do you serve?  It may be more than one thing.  What does it mean to serve?  Does it mean mindless obedience?  Does it mean fear of consequences?  Or does it mean heartfelt devotion mixed with autonomy?  Do you bring your full self into service, or do you shut down part of who you are in order to serve?  Are you trying to serve something that really doesn't matter to you, just because someone said you should?  If it didn't matter what other people thought of you, what or whom would you serve?

As for me, I will serve my divine self -- the insight, beauty, and creativity at the core of who I am.  Through that deep self, I am awed and inspired by the world around me.  Through that deep self, I can trust in my ability to find satisfying solutions to the challenges I face.  Through that deep self, I can see the divine character of other people more clearly, and I can think of them and treat them in a way that honors them, that reflects a respect for their capability, even when they are not fully embracing that capability themselves.  Through serving my divine self, I can be honest about what matters to me and make clear decisions that contribute to a fulfilling life.  And from that deep self I can boldly connect with other people and share life with them.

That service is not easy.  I believe things about myself that are not true.  I believe lies about other people and about the networks and systems we create.  I make decisions out of irrational fear from time to time.  I serve my self imperfectly.  Just like everyone else.  I also forgive myself from that deep well and continue serving, and that brings me delight and satisfaction.

We all serve something.  Know what you serve.

Numbers 18-20: Tithing as a Priestly Pyramid Scheme and the Smoke Screen of Religious Rhetoric

In between all the stories about the Israelites complaining and getting punished for it, Numbers 18-20 describes how tithes were to be distributed and tells the story of the first passing of the high-priest torch.  On the surface, it looks like a sweet deal for the Levites, who get temple-related jobs.  They get to keep everyone else's tithes, the 10% of their wealth that the Israelites were obligated to offer to their god.  And 10% of that tithe went specifically to Aaron, the high priest.  Of course, the Levites were presumably doing work for this payment, and since doing tasks for the temple didn't have as direct a source of payment as raising livestock, this was a way of making working at the temple a reasonable career.  One might even say lucrative, since 10% of the community’s wealth was being concentrated in less than 3% of the population.

The chronology of establishing the priesthood is a bit odd.  After the Israelites leave Egypt, Moses counts everyone except the members of his own tribe, the Levites, presumably because they were going to guard the tabernacle.  When the Levites were finally counted, they were tallied differently than the rest of the Israelites.  All the other tribes were looked at as warriors, so only able-bodied adult males were counted.  Of the Levites, every male one month old and older was counted, and still they wound up being the smallest tribe at 22,000 official people.  This was roughly equal to the number of first-born males in the whole Israelite community, so back in Numbers 3 a justification was made to set apart the tribe of Levi as a priesthood.  One potential priest for every first-born male, at least at that moment in Israelite history.

So, at this point, the Levites did the temple-related work, and everyone else paid them to do it.  This is essentially what the tithe was.  It was a tax.  The Israelite government was a theocracy (much like Egypt), with the dictatorial Moses at its head and the remainder of his tribe handling the management of the tabernacle, which was the central feature in Israelite life.  What went on at the tabernacle affected life and death of thousands of people through supernatural means that the average Israelite couldn't hope to understand.  Moses' brother Aaron was the high priest over all the other Levites, so they levied a tax on the other tribes.  If an American doesn't pay taxes, the worst case scenario is that the offender could be imprisoned while the IRS takes the money to which it's entitled by force.  If an Israelite didn't pay the required tithe, a hole could open up in the earth and swallow them.  Or they could die from a mysterious plague.

Later on, it will be clear that the Levites were expected to have other sources of income.  There wasn’t really enough temple-related work to occupy the entirety of the tribe.  Levites are recorded as being doctors, teachers, judges, musicians, and law enforcement officers.  A part of the tithe also went to support people in the community who were no longer able to earn a living, essentially a form of social security.  So, although the Levites were entitled to a share in the community’s wealth, they did provide important services for the community.

Even though it's not necessarily a familiar way of setting up a society, it certainly makes sense.  The one thing that seems odd is how apologetic Moses is about the whole thing.  Instead of just saying, "I'm in charge, and this is how it's going to be," he sets up God as the source for all of these proclamations.  Maybe that's something he learned from the Egyptians.  Maybe he thought it would keep people from complaining about things.  But no matter how many plagues or fires killed off groups of dissatisfied Israelites, people kept complaining.  They complained about Moses, and they complained about God.  On the surface, they may have used language that suggested they were giving a tithe "to God," but they knew at some level that they were paying what amounted to a tax to the Levites.  Just as taxpayers feel entitled to complain about their government today, the Israelites felt entitled to complain about the way they were being governed, even if it meant being irreverent to the point of risking death.

At the beginning of Numbers 20, they complain again.  Miriam dies, and in the next sentence the Israelites complain that there isn’t any water.  It’s tempting to tie this back into the purity laws of the previous chapter regarding cleaning oneself with water after handling a dead body, but it doesn’t really seem like that was the chief complaint.  They needed water to drink just to stay alive.  In this famous story, God commands Moses and Aaron to go and command a rock to provide water.  Instead, Moses takes personal credit and strikes the rock with an angry admonition toward the Israelites.  His sister had just died, so one can understand his irritability in the face of more complaints.  Water flowed forth, and everyone was satisfied for the moment.

Everyone except God.  Moses and Aaron were admonished because they took credit for the water.  In the story, God told the two leaders that they would not enter the Promised Land as a punishment for not treating him as holy in front of the Israelites.  There are plenty of lessons that could be extracted from the 12 verses that comprise this story, but you can draw spiritual lessons from nearly any source if you are looking for them.  It’s likely that tales like this were initially told to create a justification for the names of the places involved.  This particular tale also creates a reason for why the leaders of the Israelites died before the community reached its goal.

Aaron dies just a short time after that scene at the rock, and the mantle of high priest is passed on to his son, Eleazar.  Since it was no secret that this time would eventually come, Numbers 19 is essentially a training ritual for Eleazar.  It’s a special sacrifice that involves all of the things that a high priest should be able to do confidently, and it’s specified that Eleazar will preside over the ceremony.  One chapter later, Eleazar is made high priest and Aaron dies.  The "Ordinance of the Red Heifer" was his final exam, even though the text doesn’t quite put it that way.

Just before Aaron dies, Moses sends word to the Edomites, asking for safe passage through their lands.  Not surprisingly, this request is denied.  The Edomites were the descendants of Esau, whom Jacob tricked out of his inheritance.  When Jacob ran away and came back fourteen years later, Esau attempted to rekindle their brotherly relationship, but Jacob was fearful and basically avoided his brother’s lands.  Whether the story is true or not, any Edomite who identified with his forefather Esau would understandably be suspicious of any descendant of Jacob asking for any favors.  So Aaron dies on the border of Edom, with armed Edomites prepared to defend their borders against an Israelite invasion.

Religious rhetoric provided a colorful context for early Israelite society, and it didn't prevent people from being involved citizens, vocal about their concerns and disappointments.  Some people today are more cowed than the Israelites were by the idea that God has commanded something.  It has perhaps become more dangerous than a physical plague.  Certain segments of our society hear a person claim to know what God wants and they accept it without question.  This is not a thoughtful or enlightened way to participate in one’s society.  When we take away the “infallible absolute authority” as intermediary, the people who ask us to think, spend, or vote a certain way are required to explain their platform much more clearly than a simple “God said so.”  It becomes much easier to judge ideas based on their merits and their potential benefits to society when the smoke screen of religion is taken away.  The cynic in me suggests that there are some leaders who prefer having the smoke screen, for whatever reason.

Perhaps it would have gone exactly the same for Moses if he had controlled the early Israelite society through some other means.  If he had said, “We’re going to collect a 10% tax from everyone, and that tax will be used to pay for doctors, teachers, and the officials that will settle disputes in our community,” would there have been a great public outcry against that?  Abraham knew about the Mesopotamian practice of collecting a tithe, so the concept was nothing revolutionary.  Even claiming that a god (i.e., a particular priesthood) was entitled to a portion of a community’s wealth was nothing new.  Maybe I’m crediting the Israelites with more sophistication that they actually possessed, but the real revolutionary idea would have been to say, “This is what will be best for our community, so this is what we will do.”  Then again, (if the biblical account is to be believed) Moses was never really comfortable with the idea of being responsible for so many people’s well-being.

Have we matured enough as a society to be honest about our ideas?  Are we able to set smoke screens and emotional rhetoric aside to consider the actual merits of our ideas?  Can we discern between what is the best for our society and what is simply a personal preference?  And if we have that discernment, do we also possess the integrity to put personal preferences aside for the greater good?  Whatever the answer, the way to strengthen our discernment and integrity is to expect it of ourselves and of one another.  There are ways to gently invite the religious and emotional rhetoric to be put aside for a moment, to reassure an individual that ideas can be considered without resorting to personal attacks.  We don’t always have the opportunity to have such frank conversations with our leaders today, but they also don’t have the power to make the earth swallow us whole.  As often as we do share ideas with one another, though, we have the opportunity to become more discerning and honest – to be better citizens of our society, and more effective participants in our own lives.