The kingdom of Israel fell to the Assyrians in 722 BCE, and the Israelites were removed from the land and resettled elsewhere in the Assyrian Empire. 2 Kings 17 suggests a political reason and a spiritual reason for the event. Politically, King Hoshea thought he could extract himself from his role as vassal to the Assyrian emperor if he pledged loyalty to a king of Egypt. There's no way of knowing why he thought that would be better. Ultimately, it didn't matter, because Shalmaneser found out about the betrayal and responded with military action. He removed the Israelites from their land and moved in exiles from other places within the empire. This separation of people from their attachment to geographic sites was intended to preserve peace and limit the potential for uprisings within the empire.
Shalmaneser's actions make considerable sense. People today often behave the same way, whether it is people in certain positions of political power or people in positions of economic power. From a certain angle, multinational corporations bear some striking similarities to the empires of the Ancient Near East. The logic of the emperor's attempt to preserve power and docile compliance within his domain is enough to explain the circumstances without adding any supernatural reasons into the mix.
The Bible being a document of a superstitious time and people, however, places more emphasis on why the Israelites themselves were to blame, namely because of their spiritual infidelity. It is striking to look back at the development of their theology, from a mythology around a deity who made repeated unconditional promises to Abram about the land his descendants would occupy, to a religious construct that included unfulfilled (albeit vague) blessings for good behavior and death penalty curses for bad behavior, to a social commentary about why bad things happen to a people who are supposedly chosen and beloved by an omnipotent deity. Anything bad that happens can thus be blamed on human behavior, which as it turns out is pretty close to the truth when it's put in such general terms. There may be some disagreement about exactly which bad behavior brought about the undesirable consequences, but at least there is a bit of honesty in recognizing that the results people experience in their lives are largely consequences of their own actions.
Yet, much of what happened to the people of Israel was not so much a consequence of their actions as it was a consequence of their leader's actions. Their king did something that caused the entire country to be overthrown and displaced. It doesn't seem fair that one person's poor decision making skills wind up costing so many people so much, but that's what happens in systems of government, whether they are democracies or monarchies. We cannot control a lot of things about our circumstances, but we can control who we are in the midst of those circumstances.
What can we draw from this spiritual justification of a nation's failure, then? How can we translate this idea that we face a decision between serving a benevolent and righteous supernatural or committing destructive acts of spiritual infidelity or idolatry? With a bit of translation, it actually makes for some very useful observations. The historians of Kings are partially right when they suggest that the people of Israel created their own reality of destruction and exile. That's a truth worth exploring.
Even for the authors of this biased history, it was obvious that the people who resettled the lands of the exiled Israelites were creating their own gods. It just wasn't as easy for them to look at their own god as a human invention. We create idols, too, and more often than not those idols originate from our fears, our insecurities, the lies we believe about ourselves, other people, and reality. We look outside of ourselves for a sense of purpose and well-being, idolizing money or titles or power or significance. We create destructive habits because we fail to recognize that so many of the things we think we value are actually valueless. We spend so much time seeking after some external means of alleviating our irrational fears that forget to examine our own selves, our own deep and abiding values, our own ideals and principles that got buried beneath piles of vows about what we must and must not do, assumptions about what is possible or impossible, and lies about how we are either not enough or better than.
If we want to encounter divinity, we might want to spend some honest moments looking within ourselves. Chances are, we already know what we want our lives to be about. We already know what we actually value. Those things are sometimes challenging; they might take a lot of work and we might have to dismantle a lot of fears and false beliefs to really engage them. But when we dig into real meaningful values that engage our sense of connection with people, that tap into our true capabilities and passions, that inspire us to envision a better life and a better world characterized by justice and compassion, we are tapping into something more powerful than any idols we can set up in our lives.
We cannot honestly improve our lives, the lives of other people, or the world around us by being preoccupied with judgments about ourselves or other people, fears about scarcity or insignificance, or lies about our own brokenness or weakness. Human beings may be well practiced at escalating anxiety and reactivity, but there are other options for how we connect with our deepest, most noble, visionary selves. We have the opportunity to bring forth something inspiring by the way we live and the choices we make. We can honor a deeper truth than where our fears and assumptions lead us. We are creative by nature, and thus we are creators by nature. We choose what we create.
Showing posts with label idolatry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label idolatry. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
2 Chronicles 28: One Voice (a portrait of the prophet Oded)
As we've seen, 2 Kings 15 doesn't paint a flattering picture of the rulers of Israel and Judah in the 8th century BCE. They were self-absorbed, indulgent, murderous lot whose deeds were barely worthy of a paragraph from the historian. Already, there were signs during the reigns of Menahem and Pekah that the nations of Judah and Israel would be troubled by Assyria's ruler Tiglath-Pileser III (who is also called by the name Pul or Pulu). Tiglath-Pileser III claimed rulership of Assyria during a civil war, and in an effort to seem more authentic, he took his throne name from two previous Assyrian rulers who had come by the throne legitimately. His military reforms and expansionist ideals created an empire that included most of the nations known to the Assyrians at the time. One of his most successful policies in preventing further internal conflict was to force thousands of citizens to relocate to diverse parts of the empire, breaking up subcultural identities based on connections with a particular land.
Into this climate, King Ahaz ascended to the throne of Judah when his father Jotham died. 2 Kings 16 tells one version of his reign, which apparently began early on with participation in the various foreign religious practices that had become popular in Judah. High places, hills, and green trees were chosen as sites for worship and sacrifices because these places were thought to be favored by various gods. Ahaz is also said to have made his son "pass through fire," which is often interpreted as an act of child sacrifice. Based on current archeological evidence, the sacrifice of children was not nearly as prevalent as some biblical passages suggest, although some ancient writers did use the accusation of child sacrifice as propaganda to demonize enemy civilizations during times of war. It is known, however, that some societies committed child sacrifices in times of great duress, as an extraordinary means of appealing to their supernaturals for aid, and Ahaz certainly reigned during a time of great duress in Judah. It's important to understand a little something of Ahaz in order to understand some of the writings of the prophet Isaiah.
During the reign of Ahaz, Judah was attacked by Aram and Israel. The nation of Aram was really a collection of city-states, one of which was Damascus. King Rezin was obviously connected to Damascus, based on 2 Kings. Rezin joined forces with Pekah, the king of Israel to attack Judah; there is no indication as to their motivations, but in the end (according to 2 Kings) Rezin drove the Judeans out of Elath and reclaimed it. (Edom and Aram are probably synonymous in this passage.) In light of this offensive action, Ahaz sought military aid from Tiglath-Pileser III, bribing him with valuables from his own holdings as well as the temple treasury. The Assyrian emperor, seeing the potential for expanding the Assyrian empire, attacked Damascus, killed Rezin, and annexed a portion of Aram.
After seeing the altar in Damascus, Ahaz made some radical changes to the temple in Jerusalem, with the assistance of the priest Uriah. Perhaps he wanted to be more like Tiglath-Pileser III, even though he could not possibly match the Assyrian emperor's military and social ingenuity. The prophet Isaiah was an adviser to Ahaz during this entire crisis, so there will be more to unpack about this ruler. The Chronicler, however, interprets the relationship between Ahaz and Tiglath-Pileser somewhat differently in 2 Chronicles 28. Beginning with the quote from 2 Kings criticizing Ahaz for idolatry and child sacrifice, the Chronicler then goes on to describe just how severely the armies of Aram and Israel defeated Judah. Of course, the Chronicler interprets this defeat as a consequence of the king's idolatry, but we can be confident that there were political motivations for the action against Judah.
According to the Chronicler, there were multiple incursions into Judah by foreign armies who reclaimed and settled cities, whittling away at Judah's borders. When Ahaz turned to Tiglath-Pileser III for assistance in this interpretation of history, the Assyrian leader saw Judah's weakened position and took advantage of the situation, demanding tribute but providing no meaningful aid. Ahaz made what was a logical decision for a person in his time and culture; he started worshiping gods that had seemingly brought success to his enemies. It is a constant danger in cultures where the supernatural is legitimized that people will look ever more frantically for something outside of themselves to make life easier, better, and safer. The answer to making positive changes lies within a person's own behavior, however, and not with some invented god or supernatural force. Change comes when people are willing to take an honest look within themselves and act in a way that leads toward a desirable future.
Which brings us to Oded. This prophet is never mentioned again in the Bible, and perhaps his name (which means "Restorer") is more of a symbolic moniker than anything else. When the Israel army had soundly defeated Judah (with the aid of Rezin's forces), they claimed 200,000 Judeans as spoils of war. They intended to take these people as slaves, even though they shared a common heritage; of all the people in the world, these captives were most like the people of Israel. Oded spoke out in protest. He could not stand by and watch people taking their own kindred as prisoners of war; he understood the immorality of subjugating people who shared a deep bond of culture and history. Once Oded stood up, other leaders began to speak out in agreement. Who knows whether they would have said anything if Oded had remained silent, but once the truth was spoken, their own integrity won out over greed-fear and the thoughtless fervor of military victory. They clothed the captives, fed them, escorted them to a safe place, even using their own pack animals as necessary, and they set them free.
It didn't matter that the Judeans had committed idolatry. It didn't matter that they had been militarily inferior. It didn't matter that they had been on the wrong side of the division of Israelite culture. They were human beings who were more similar to the people of Israel than they were different. They deserved to be treated with respect and dignity, even as conquered people. Oded saw this, and he spoke the truth boldly. The Israelite soldiers could have cut him down and silenced him; it would only have taken one man who didn't like what Oded had to say. This has happened on more than one occasion throughout human history. In this instance, though, for whatever reason, Oded's words had the power to invoke true justice.
Our world has captives. Our world has slaves, figurative and literal. Some people suffer because of war. Some people suffer because of oppressive systems. Some people suffer because of other people's fear. Some people are just stuck in a cycle of poverty or prejudice that they cannot break on their own. There is nothing that makes these people less worthy of respect and dignity than any other person. If we are honest, we must acknowledge that human beings are more alike than different. We like to be tribal; it's comfortable to draw lines of distinction. But we are not that different from one another. People -- all people -- have inherent worth and dignity, Israelite and Judean, male and female, slave and free, rich and poor, conservative and liberal, Muslim and Christian and Buddhist and Hindu and Wiccan and Atheist and ...
There was nothing that credentialed Oded to speak out except that he saw the truth and was willing to speak out on the side of justice, equity, and compassion. His words had nothing to do with what was legally permissible. His words had to do with integrity and human value. Oded would perhaps not have spoken out against claiming other peoples as prisoners of war. He was, after all, a product of his place and time. We have some advantage of perspective over Oded. We can aim higher in our own lives. We, too, can speak out with bold honesty against injustice, oppression, and fear. If we speak so that others can hear, perhaps our words will inspire others to take a stand as well. Moreover, we can take action in our lives to demonstrate what it means to have integrity, to be ethically astute in our treatment of other human beings. There is no reason that a modern day portrait of Oded should not look exactly like us.
Into this climate, King Ahaz ascended to the throne of Judah when his father Jotham died. 2 Kings 16 tells one version of his reign, which apparently began early on with participation in the various foreign religious practices that had become popular in Judah. High places, hills, and green trees were chosen as sites for worship and sacrifices because these places were thought to be favored by various gods. Ahaz is also said to have made his son "pass through fire," which is often interpreted as an act of child sacrifice. Based on current archeological evidence, the sacrifice of children was not nearly as prevalent as some biblical passages suggest, although some ancient writers did use the accusation of child sacrifice as propaganda to demonize enemy civilizations during times of war. It is known, however, that some societies committed child sacrifices in times of great duress, as an extraordinary means of appealing to their supernaturals for aid, and Ahaz certainly reigned during a time of great duress in Judah. It's important to understand a little something of Ahaz in order to understand some of the writings of the prophet Isaiah.
During the reign of Ahaz, Judah was attacked by Aram and Israel. The nation of Aram was really a collection of city-states, one of which was Damascus. King Rezin was obviously connected to Damascus, based on 2 Kings. Rezin joined forces with Pekah, the king of Israel to attack Judah; there is no indication as to their motivations, but in the end (according to 2 Kings) Rezin drove the Judeans out of Elath and reclaimed it. (Edom and Aram are probably synonymous in this passage.) In light of this offensive action, Ahaz sought military aid from Tiglath-Pileser III, bribing him with valuables from his own holdings as well as the temple treasury. The Assyrian emperor, seeing the potential for expanding the Assyrian empire, attacked Damascus, killed Rezin, and annexed a portion of Aram.
After seeing the altar in Damascus, Ahaz made some radical changes to the temple in Jerusalem, with the assistance of the priest Uriah. Perhaps he wanted to be more like Tiglath-Pileser III, even though he could not possibly match the Assyrian emperor's military and social ingenuity. The prophet Isaiah was an adviser to Ahaz during this entire crisis, so there will be more to unpack about this ruler. The Chronicler, however, interprets the relationship between Ahaz and Tiglath-Pileser somewhat differently in 2 Chronicles 28. Beginning with the quote from 2 Kings criticizing Ahaz for idolatry and child sacrifice, the Chronicler then goes on to describe just how severely the armies of Aram and Israel defeated Judah. Of course, the Chronicler interprets this defeat as a consequence of the king's idolatry, but we can be confident that there were political motivations for the action against Judah.
According to the Chronicler, there were multiple incursions into Judah by foreign armies who reclaimed and settled cities, whittling away at Judah's borders. When Ahaz turned to Tiglath-Pileser III for assistance in this interpretation of history, the Assyrian leader saw Judah's weakened position and took advantage of the situation, demanding tribute but providing no meaningful aid. Ahaz made what was a logical decision for a person in his time and culture; he started worshiping gods that had seemingly brought success to his enemies. It is a constant danger in cultures where the supernatural is legitimized that people will look ever more frantically for something outside of themselves to make life easier, better, and safer. The answer to making positive changes lies within a person's own behavior, however, and not with some invented god or supernatural force. Change comes when people are willing to take an honest look within themselves and act in a way that leads toward a desirable future.
Which brings us to Oded. This prophet is never mentioned again in the Bible, and perhaps his name (which means "Restorer") is more of a symbolic moniker than anything else. When the Israel army had soundly defeated Judah (with the aid of Rezin's forces), they claimed 200,000 Judeans as spoils of war. They intended to take these people as slaves, even though they shared a common heritage; of all the people in the world, these captives were most like the people of Israel. Oded spoke out in protest. He could not stand by and watch people taking their own kindred as prisoners of war; he understood the immorality of subjugating people who shared a deep bond of culture and history. Once Oded stood up, other leaders began to speak out in agreement. Who knows whether they would have said anything if Oded had remained silent, but once the truth was spoken, their own integrity won out over greed-fear and the thoughtless fervor of military victory. They clothed the captives, fed them, escorted them to a safe place, even using their own pack animals as necessary, and they set them free.
It didn't matter that the Judeans had committed idolatry. It didn't matter that they had been militarily inferior. It didn't matter that they had been on the wrong side of the division of Israelite culture. They were human beings who were more similar to the people of Israel than they were different. They deserved to be treated with respect and dignity, even as conquered people. Oded saw this, and he spoke the truth boldly. The Israelite soldiers could have cut him down and silenced him; it would only have taken one man who didn't like what Oded had to say. This has happened on more than one occasion throughout human history. In this instance, though, for whatever reason, Oded's words had the power to invoke true justice.
Our world has captives. Our world has slaves, figurative and literal. Some people suffer because of war. Some people suffer because of oppressive systems. Some people suffer because of other people's fear. Some people are just stuck in a cycle of poverty or prejudice that they cannot break on their own. There is nothing that makes these people less worthy of respect and dignity than any other person. If we are honest, we must acknowledge that human beings are more alike than different. We like to be tribal; it's comfortable to draw lines of distinction. But we are not that different from one another. People -- all people -- have inherent worth and dignity, Israelite and Judean, male and female, slave and free, rich and poor, conservative and liberal, Muslim and Christian and Buddhist and Hindu and Wiccan and Atheist and ...
There was nothing that credentialed Oded to speak out except that he saw the truth and was willing to speak out on the side of justice, equity, and compassion. His words had nothing to do with what was legally permissible. His words had to do with integrity and human value. Oded would perhaps not have spoken out against claiming other peoples as prisoners of war. He was, after all, a product of his place and time. We have some advantage of perspective over Oded. We can aim higher in our own lives. We, too, can speak out with bold honesty against injustice, oppression, and fear. If we speak so that others can hear, perhaps our words will inspire others to take a stand as well. Moreover, we can take action in our lives to demonstrate what it means to have integrity, to be ethically astute in our treatment of other human beings. There is no reason that a modern day portrait of Oded should not look exactly like us.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Hosea: The Consequences of Desperation
We've looked at the first three chapters of Hosea. The remainder of the book is almost entirely a catalogue of colorful ways to say that people have committed idolatry and Yahweh will punish them accordingly. Twice (Hos 11:8-11 and Hos 14) the author suggests that Yahweh is too compassionate to destroy Israel and Judah, perhaps suggesting that there will be hope after a time of consequence. Most of the book, however, is a single-minded poetic indictment.
It may be worth taking a moment to go over familiar ground and challenge the idea that bad things happen because God is punishing people, and good things happen because God is being merciful. In fact, the author of Hosea even detaches the religious and moral behavior of individuals from the consequences of a nation when he claims that Yahweh will concentrate his punishment on the priests and leaders that led their communities toward destruction (Hos 4:14-5:4). It's still safe to say that the author of Hosea is commenting on a perceived relationship between Yahweh and the nations of Judah and Israel, not between Yahweh and individuals living in those nations. And as we have observed before, for all of the undesirable things that happened to the nation of Israel (and eventually Judah) there are clear political, economic, and natural causes.
So, despite the lengthy pronouncement of divine disappointment and punishment in Hosea, we can realistically say that undesirable consequences sometimes follow human behavior. Perhaps it is the case that undesirable consequences more often follow behavior based on fear (including greed, oppression, and hostility). Or perhaps the undesirable occurrences in life are simply easier to work through for those individuals who are living based on something deeper and more solid than superficial and irrational fears. Perhaps living by a clear set of values and guiding principles that support justice, equity, and compassion simply offers people a way to make sense of their lives during undesirable circumstances while still maintaining a sense of personal responsibility.
The book of Hosea certainly seems to point to some degree of personal accountability on the part of at least some of the people of Israel, but he also seems to suggest that their only chance of managing crises is to hope that Yahweh will be merciful and provide supernatural aid. As history has demonstrated time and again, prayer alone -- even sincere prayer -- does not manage crises and initiate meaningful change in one's life or in the life of a community or nation. People must act in accord with their prayers or wishes or deep guiding principles if those things are to have any real value. The author of Hosea, for just a brief moment, suggests what acting in accord would look like. Obviously, he thinks that people need to stop worshiping inanimate objects and serving foreign gods in ways that are incompatible with the practices of the Yahweh cult, but in Hos 12:6-8 he also admonishes people to keep the principles of love, justice, and honesty as priorities in their lives.
People in Hosea's day may not have been so different from individuals today in their propensity to run toward any possible source of protection or relief. Whether one melts down a bunch of silver into an idol, throws oneself into workaholic commitments, entertains reckless behavior in personal relationships, becomes obsessed with how much money one can get from others, suddenly adopts more devout or fanatical religious behaviors, or succumbs to the more easily identified addictions of alcohol or drugs, desperation is often at the root. When we feel incapable of handling the challenges we face, we have a tendency to look for something outside of ourselves that can handle it for us, or at least help us forget that the challenge exists. Desperation leads us away from our true values and principles, and toward frantic and relentless fear.
Desperation is often based on lies we have accepted as truth. Being honest about ourselves and other people is one tool we have to dismantle desperation. Taking away the mythology and the angry threats of divine vengeance, one interpretation of Hosea is simply that life is better when we treat one another (and ourselves) with respect, when we let go of the fears that can prompt us to degrade ourselves or victimize others and instead trust in principles that compel us to see human value more clearly. We are sometimes not as prepared as we would like to be for the circumstances in which we find ourselves, and yet we have incredible resources within our selves and in our relationships with others. Those resources become easier for us to acknowledge when we live with integrity to meaningful guiding principles.
No doubt, giving in to fear and desperation is easier; living with intentionality requires a bit more of us. It's also more rewarding, in our lives, in the lives of people around us, and in the world.
It may be worth taking a moment to go over familiar ground and challenge the idea that bad things happen because God is punishing people, and good things happen because God is being merciful. In fact, the author of Hosea even detaches the religious and moral behavior of individuals from the consequences of a nation when he claims that Yahweh will concentrate his punishment on the priests and leaders that led their communities toward destruction (Hos 4:14-5:4). It's still safe to say that the author of Hosea is commenting on a perceived relationship between Yahweh and the nations of Judah and Israel, not between Yahweh and individuals living in those nations. And as we have observed before, for all of the undesirable things that happened to the nation of Israel (and eventually Judah) there are clear political, economic, and natural causes.
So, despite the lengthy pronouncement of divine disappointment and punishment in Hosea, we can realistically say that undesirable consequences sometimes follow human behavior. Perhaps it is the case that undesirable consequences more often follow behavior based on fear (including greed, oppression, and hostility). Or perhaps the undesirable occurrences in life are simply easier to work through for those individuals who are living based on something deeper and more solid than superficial and irrational fears. Perhaps living by a clear set of values and guiding principles that support justice, equity, and compassion simply offers people a way to make sense of their lives during undesirable circumstances while still maintaining a sense of personal responsibility.
The book of Hosea certainly seems to point to some degree of personal accountability on the part of at least some of the people of Israel, but he also seems to suggest that their only chance of managing crises is to hope that Yahweh will be merciful and provide supernatural aid. As history has demonstrated time and again, prayer alone -- even sincere prayer -- does not manage crises and initiate meaningful change in one's life or in the life of a community or nation. People must act in accord with their prayers or wishes or deep guiding principles if those things are to have any real value. The author of Hosea, for just a brief moment, suggests what acting in accord would look like. Obviously, he thinks that people need to stop worshiping inanimate objects and serving foreign gods in ways that are incompatible with the practices of the Yahweh cult, but in Hos 12:6-8 he also admonishes people to keep the principles of love, justice, and honesty as priorities in their lives.
People in Hosea's day may not have been so different from individuals today in their propensity to run toward any possible source of protection or relief. Whether one melts down a bunch of silver into an idol, throws oneself into workaholic commitments, entertains reckless behavior in personal relationships, becomes obsessed with how much money one can get from others, suddenly adopts more devout or fanatical religious behaviors, or succumbs to the more easily identified addictions of alcohol or drugs, desperation is often at the root. When we feel incapable of handling the challenges we face, we have a tendency to look for something outside of ourselves that can handle it for us, or at least help us forget that the challenge exists. Desperation leads us away from our true values and principles, and toward frantic and relentless fear.
Desperation is often based on lies we have accepted as truth. Being honest about ourselves and other people is one tool we have to dismantle desperation. Taking away the mythology and the angry threats of divine vengeance, one interpretation of Hosea is simply that life is better when we treat one another (and ourselves) with respect, when we let go of the fears that can prompt us to degrade ourselves or victimize others and instead trust in principles that compel us to see human value more clearly. We are sometimes not as prepared as we would like to be for the circumstances in which we find ourselves, and yet we have incredible resources within our selves and in our relationships with others. Those resources become easier for us to acknowledge when we live with integrity to meaningful guiding principles.
No doubt, giving in to fear and desperation is easier; living with intentionality requires a bit more of us. It's also more rewarding, in our lives, in the lives of people around us, and in the world.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
2 Kings 1-4: Being Vessels of Judgment or Vessels of Grace
The stories of Elijah and Elisha are delightful bits of folklore. These two characters have much in common with magicians or sorcerers from the legends of other cultures. Even though Israelite religion forbade witchcraft and the like, simple recontextualization places the actual power in the hands of Yahweh while the men themselves are mere subservient vessels. In 2 Kings 1-4, Elijah predicts the death of an Israelite king, kills 102 soldiers, and passes on his mantle of authentic power to Elisha before catching a ride up to Heaven in a flaming chariot. Elisha sets to work purifying water, summoning bears to eat unruly children, and performing miracles large and small. He increases apparent amounts of olive oil and bread, makes stew safe to eat, and brings a boy back from the dead -- a fairly impressive resume. One significant event is the battle between the king of Moab and the united forces of Israel, Judah, and Edom, in which Elisha proclaims that Yahweh will fill in the gaps in the planning of these three kings in order to give them victory over Moab.
These stories fall into two larger categories: stories of judgment and stories of grace. The judgment stories are obvious, but the origin of the judgment isn't always clear. Ahaziah is obviously being punished by Yahweh, but in the folktale, he doesn't die until Elijah is standing there in front of him. In the meantime, Elijah is justified in calling down fire to consume dozens of soldiers, presumably because they were in the service of a wicked king. Elisha's judgment of the jeering boys is even more clearly the prophet's own decision. The boys say something he doesn't like, so the prophet curses them (in the name of Yahweh), and bears come out of the woods and eat the boys!
Life does not work like this. Even though there are people who commit what we might consider wicked acts, we cannot expect that they will be judged and removed from the world as a result. People die. Sometimes death is a result of personal decisions, but sometimes people die for reasons completely unrelated to how they lived their lives. No matter what a person does in life, death is an eventuality, not divine punishment. Even when we choose to kill someone as a society through capital punishment or military action, these are human decisions carried out by people. While we might like to curse certain people from time to time, our curses do not actually have any power over reality, even if we curse people in the name of our favorite deity.
And let's consider that for just a moment. Elisha curses these boys in the name of his god, and as a result, bears come out of the woods and eat the boys. This is slightly different from the folktale about Elijah taming the wolf, but it still suggests that these folk heroes had influence over nature. More accurately, it suggests that the prophets had influence over Yahweh, who had power over nature. What kind of deity is this, though? When I say, "Those boys are making fun of me, God! Send some bears to eat them!" I would not expect a wise and loving deity to respond, "You got it. Two hungry bears, coming up." I would expect a wise and loving deity to respond with something more like, "They're kids. It's what they do. They'll grow into responsible members of society if you teach them to be wise instead of enforcing a brutal 'one-strike' policy. And you are getting a bit thin on top, baldy."
Obviously the ancient Israelites thought about things differently, but just because they wrote their beliefs down over two millenia ago doesn't mean that their version of divinity was in any way accurate or useful. God does not punish the wicked. The wicked punish themselves. God does not respond to curses, even if the curses are pronounced "in his name," as ridiculous as that seems. This is once again witchcraft by a different name. Even if you believe in a supreme being who watches over human beings and actively responds to prayers, there has to be some limit to your god's willingness to harm people in order for you to have meaningful participation in the world. If there existed a god who was responsive and willing to go along with our momentary emotional reactivity, humanity would no longer exist; we would have cursed one another into early graves a long time ago.
No, even if there is an external divine being trying to guide human activity, the message of our reality is that we must learn the hard lesson of seeing one another more clearly as human beings worthy of respect. Our acts of greed, violence, and oppression (and fear in all its forms) only lead to more problems. We enact our own curses on one another and ourselves by failing to manage our own fearfulness and irrational beliefs. We can lift those curses, too. It just takes commitment to doing things better. Calling down a curse is a quick solution that doesn't require any real investment of our own time and energy. Dismantling our false beliefs about ourselves and other people takes a bit more work, but the end result could be far more impressive than getting a couple of hungry bears to show up and eat our problems.
Every story in these chapters wasn't about divine retribution, though. Some of them were about divine grace. A town has bad water, and the prophet makes it potable (through magic). A widow is in danger of losing her home, and the prophet works a bit of magic and makes her olive oil jar incredibly prodigious for a short time. The prophet makes a woman conceive (we won't ask how), and when the boy dies prematurely, the prophet brings him back to life. The prophet makes poisoned food safe to eat and feeds a hundred people with a little bit of bread. He also brings prediction of God's impressive provenance for a trio of armies that rode out to battle so ill prepared that they ran out of water on the way. This was a little more tricky, and it was obviously done on God's initiative in the story, even though most of the predictions were carried out by people.
We like the idea of grace. If one cannot pay one's bills, unexpected money seems like a miracle from on high. When we think we have a scarcity and reality shows us our abundance, grace makes a lot of sense. In fact, whenever we are expecting bad things to happen and our expectations are shown to be overly pessimistic, it can seem that something outside of ourselves has intervened on our behalf. Grace is the opposite of a curse. But things we don't like still happen. Tragic and devastating things even. We are sometimes woefully unprepared for the challenges we face. Sometimes it's our own irresponsibility that does us it, and sometimes events are so unexpected that we are simply caught off guard. Children (and other people we love) die, often before we are really ready to let them go. This is sad, and it is reality. Medical professionals can sometimes pull off what seems like a miracle (although it's actually human skill), but sooner or later we have to face the death of someone we care about. It's comforting perhaps to think that there is a god who has the power to intervene and restore a dead person to life, like the Shunammite woman's son or Lazarus coming out of the grave. Yet, can we accept those stories without wondering why no one in our lives has ever been the recipient of such grace?
Despite the rabbit trails of "miraculous" stories that people may tell, the facts are clear on the matter, and my purpose here is not to refute miracles. In fact, judgment and grace are very real. They just aren't in the hands of a supreme being outside of ourselves. Judgment and grace are human endeavors, and we carry them out every day. We know how to punish people, sometimes subtly and sometimes very directly. It may not be fire from the sky or hungry bears, but we all have our ways of letting people know that they've done something wrong and we aren't going to let them get away with it. Curses. Divine retribution. Our international conflicts are no different; they are just symptoms of the same kind of thinking on a larger scale. We can be vessels for our own violent gods of vengeance, and we often are.
We also know about grace. We know how to forgive. We know the benefits of letting go of grudges. We know how to forget about a debt owed to us. We know how to show empathy and compassion, even when we aren't getting what we want from somebody. We know how to show grace. The question is: Do we? We cannot bring back anyone from the dead, but we can have compassion for people who grieve. We cannot stop conflict in the world or decide who will "win" any given battle, but we can put a stop to conflict in our own lives. Grace. Divine blessing. We can do these things just as easily as we curse. Spewing curses just may be more our habit. We can be vessels for our own gods of peace and compassion.
The thing is, whatever you happen to believe, our true beliefs show up in our actions. Whatever we may claim to think about the real nature of humanity and divinity, our behavior tells the truth about our beliefs -- especially when we aren't being particularly intentional. If one were to suggest that every moment is an act of worship, then one would have to admit that people are often idolatrous. We want to claim belief in one thing, but our lives reflect a completely different view of reality. Whether we assert the existence of any sort of god, life makes more sense when our actions line up with what we believe about ourselves, other people, and the world we share. We choose whether we want to be vessels of retribution and punishment or vessels of peace and compassion. I would like to suggest that grace is the preferable option.
These stories fall into two larger categories: stories of judgment and stories of grace. The judgment stories are obvious, but the origin of the judgment isn't always clear. Ahaziah is obviously being punished by Yahweh, but in the folktale, he doesn't die until Elijah is standing there in front of him. In the meantime, Elijah is justified in calling down fire to consume dozens of soldiers, presumably because they were in the service of a wicked king. Elisha's judgment of the jeering boys is even more clearly the prophet's own decision. The boys say something he doesn't like, so the prophet curses them (in the name of Yahweh), and bears come out of the woods and eat the boys!
Life does not work like this. Even though there are people who commit what we might consider wicked acts, we cannot expect that they will be judged and removed from the world as a result. People die. Sometimes death is a result of personal decisions, but sometimes people die for reasons completely unrelated to how they lived their lives. No matter what a person does in life, death is an eventuality, not divine punishment. Even when we choose to kill someone as a society through capital punishment or military action, these are human decisions carried out by people. While we might like to curse certain people from time to time, our curses do not actually have any power over reality, even if we curse people in the name of our favorite deity.
And let's consider that for just a moment. Elisha curses these boys in the name of his god, and as a result, bears come out of the woods and eat the boys. This is slightly different from the folktale about Elijah taming the wolf, but it still suggests that these folk heroes had influence over nature. More accurately, it suggests that the prophets had influence over Yahweh, who had power over nature. What kind of deity is this, though? When I say, "Those boys are making fun of me, God! Send some bears to eat them!" I would not expect a wise and loving deity to respond, "You got it. Two hungry bears, coming up." I would expect a wise and loving deity to respond with something more like, "They're kids. It's what they do. They'll grow into responsible members of society if you teach them to be wise instead of enforcing a brutal 'one-strike' policy. And you are getting a bit thin on top, baldy."
Obviously the ancient Israelites thought about things differently, but just because they wrote their beliefs down over two millenia ago doesn't mean that their version of divinity was in any way accurate or useful. God does not punish the wicked. The wicked punish themselves. God does not respond to curses, even if the curses are pronounced "in his name," as ridiculous as that seems. This is once again witchcraft by a different name. Even if you believe in a supreme being who watches over human beings and actively responds to prayers, there has to be some limit to your god's willingness to harm people in order for you to have meaningful participation in the world. If there existed a god who was responsive and willing to go along with our momentary emotional reactivity, humanity would no longer exist; we would have cursed one another into early graves a long time ago.
No, even if there is an external divine being trying to guide human activity, the message of our reality is that we must learn the hard lesson of seeing one another more clearly as human beings worthy of respect. Our acts of greed, violence, and oppression (and fear in all its forms) only lead to more problems. We enact our own curses on one another and ourselves by failing to manage our own fearfulness and irrational beliefs. We can lift those curses, too. It just takes commitment to doing things better. Calling down a curse is a quick solution that doesn't require any real investment of our own time and energy. Dismantling our false beliefs about ourselves and other people takes a bit more work, but the end result could be far more impressive than getting a couple of hungry bears to show up and eat our problems.
Every story in these chapters wasn't about divine retribution, though. Some of them were about divine grace. A town has bad water, and the prophet makes it potable (through magic). A widow is in danger of losing her home, and the prophet works a bit of magic and makes her olive oil jar incredibly prodigious for a short time. The prophet makes a woman conceive (we won't ask how), and when the boy dies prematurely, the prophet brings him back to life. The prophet makes poisoned food safe to eat and feeds a hundred people with a little bit of bread. He also brings prediction of God's impressive provenance for a trio of armies that rode out to battle so ill prepared that they ran out of water on the way. This was a little more tricky, and it was obviously done on God's initiative in the story, even though most of the predictions were carried out by people.
We like the idea of grace. If one cannot pay one's bills, unexpected money seems like a miracle from on high. When we think we have a scarcity and reality shows us our abundance, grace makes a lot of sense. In fact, whenever we are expecting bad things to happen and our expectations are shown to be overly pessimistic, it can seem that something outside of ourselves has intervened on our behalf. Grace is the opposite of a curse. But things we don't like still happen. Tragic and devastating things even. We are sometimes woefully unprepared for the challenges we face. Sometimes it's our own irresponsibility that does us it, and sometimes events are so unexpected that we are simply caught off guard. Children (and other people we love) die, often before we are really ready to let them go. This is sad, and it is reality. Medical professionals can sometimes pull off what seems like a miracle (although it's actually human skill), but sooner or later we have to face the death of someone we care about. It's comforting perhaps to think that there is a god who has the power to intervene and restore a dead person to life, like the Shunammite woman's son or Lazarus coming out of the grave. Yet, can we accept those stories without wondering why no one in our lives has ever been the recipient of such grace?
Despite the rabbit trails of "miraculous" stories that people may tell, the facts are clear on the matter, and my purpose here is not to refute miracles. In fact, judgment and grace are very real. They just aren't in the hands of a supreme being outside of ourselves. Judgment and grace are human endeavors, and we carry them out every day. We know how to punish people, sometimes subtly and sometimes very directly. It may not be fire from the sky or hungry bears, but we all have our ways of letting people know that they've done something wrong and we aren't going to let them get away with it. Curses. Divine retribution. Our international conflicts are no different; they are just symptoms of the same kind of thinking on a larger scale. We can be vessels for our own violent gods of vengeance, and we often are.
We also know about grace. We know how to forgive. We know the benefits of letting go of grudges. We know how to forget about a debt owed to us. We know how to show empathy and compassion, even when we aren't getting what we want from somebody. We know how to show grace. The question is: Do we? We cannot bring back anyone from the dead, but we can have compassion for people who grieve. We cannot stop conflict in the world or decide who will "win" any given battle, but we can put a stop to conflict in our own lives. Grace. Divine blessing. We can do these things just as easily as we curse. Spewing curses just may be more our habit. We can be vessels for our own gods of peace and compassion.
The thing is, whatever you happen to believe, our true beliefs show up in our actions. Whatever we may claim to think about the real nature of humanity and divinity, our behavior tells the truth about our beliefs -- especially when we aren't being particularly intentional. If one were to suggest that every moment is an act of worship, then one would have to admit that people are often idolatrous. We want to claim belief in one thing, but our lives reflect a completely different view of reality. Whether we assert the existence of any sort of god, life makes more sense when our actions line up with what we believe about ourselves, other people, and the world we share. We choose whether we want to be vessels of retribution and punishment or vessels of peace and compassion. I would like to suggest that grace is the preferable option.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
1 Samuel 4-7: Adventures of the Magical Ark (and distinguishing between the spiritual and the physical)
After the character of Samuel is introduced, the Israelites misuse the ark of the covenant, assuming that they could manipulate their god into serving them in battle if they were carrying his throne with them. Eli's sons, who abused their positions of power, died. The ark was captured by Israel's enemies. When he heard the news, Eli himself fell and perished. In foreign lands, the ark went on merry adventures, creating chaos among Israel's enemies until it was returned with gifts. The ark still put people to death if they looked at it, so this relic's power didn't really favor the Israelites even when it was back on home turf. Finally, Samuel directs the Israelites to put aside the foreign idols they had begun to revere, and he conducts a religious ceremony involving a ritual sacrifice. After this, the Israelite god beats back the Philistine threat and Israel has peace for a time.
It is a rather primitive mindset that assumes that a god can be carried around and persuaded because his "throne" can be transported wherever the people want him to be. And yet, we still enjoy stories about magical artifacts and items that hold great power, whether its the lost ark of the covenant or the trappings of a school for wizards. Magic is cool. Magic is intriguing. Somewhere inside us, we like the idea of things that will give us access to power or abilities that we don't possess all on our own.
The story of the ark's adventures reminds any who believe in God that believers cannot manipulate God into doing what they want him to do. God doesn't choose sides in a battle based on the geographic location of his throne. He doesn't pop out like a jack-in-the-box whenever the right magical formula is recited. Unfortunately, the biblical narrative goes on to suggest that the god of the Israelites can be manipulated if people demonstrate a bit of loyalty and give him blood. The Israelites eventually got their god to defeat their enemies, they just had to get the magical recipe right.
The divine doesn't inhabit fancy boxes or thrones any more than it inhabits magic wands or cauldrons. We don't need to recite the proper words or kill the right animals in order to convince the divine to help us and hinder others. One of the most disappointing things about the biblical narrative that so many have come to accept as truth is that God is portrayed as choosing sides, often arbitrarily. Some people walk away with the impression that the Christian God can be "for" them and "against" other people, like the fickle Greek gods of Homer. It is as if some people's prayers are more worthy of God's attention than other people's prayers. And if this is the case, then we arrive back at the assumption that God can be manipulated into doing what people want, as long as they do the right things to convince him.
There is certainly meaning in ritual. Ritual can help remind us of our place in history, our values, our identities within the larger pool of humanity. And when we focus our energy toward a specific intentional purpose in ritual, we can tap into our inherent creativity and capability quite powerfully. We can also use ritual to cement our fears and beliefs about our own weakness in place, reinforcing the idea that we are incapable of living without some supernatural intelligence working on our behalf. Ritual simply reinforces what we believe, and as such it can be a powerful tool. It's important to recognize what beliefs we are reinforcing when we engage in ritual, though.
Magical arks, magic lamps, magic wands, magic mirrors, and magic altars are fictions. The concept of reciting the proper words and performing the right physical actions to work magic spells, or prayers as it were, reflects a primitive desire to call upon something more powerful than ourselves to do something for us. Most often this also involves working against someone else in order to get what we want. It's the spiritual version of carrying a gun around. Except that if we are able to manipulate God into doing something, then we think our hands and consciences are clean because whatever happens is God's will.
And yet, it is very honest to say that we often feel weak and incapable of confronting the challenges we face in life all on our own. It can be a great comfort to think that something bigger and more powerful than us is on our side, standing against any people or circumstances that seem threatening to us. We have bought into an identity of powerlessness, convinced of our smallness in a world of big dangers. This is nothing more than fear gaining control of our thoughts, creating a perception of the world in which we need something superhuman to help us survive.
The truth is that we do not need to be more powerful than other people. We do not need any magical trinkets or magical formulas in order to manipulate an external power to work on our behalf. What we need is within us and in the connections we have with other people. We already have access to all the real power we could ever need. It isn't a power that will grant our every superficial wish, but we have the power to be personally responsible for our lives. The more we build our connection with our deepest, most noble selves and our connections with other people, the more we see the real spiritual power available to us. We have the power to create, to nurture, to inspire, to heal -- the power to set aside self-centered fears and be present in the world.
This personal capability can be difficult to see through the belief that we are small and powerless. When we believe that we need some sort of magical accoutrements to call upon some power outside of ourselves, we are essentially believing in our own weakness -- and that weakness is inherent in humanity. Believing that we are weak gives us an excuse to be less than our most noble selves, and to expect the same from others. But we are not weak. We are not powerless. Sure, we need one another. We benefit from relationship. This is a source of strength, not a sign of incapability. We are capable of forging meaningful connection with ourselves and other people, but in order to do so, we must set aside the self-deprecating fears and beliefs that convince us of our own weakness.
It is a rather primitive mindset that assumes that a god can be carried around and persuaded because his "throne" can be transported wherever the people want him to be. And yet, we still enjoy stories about magical artifacts and items that hold great power, whether its the lost ark of the covenant or the trappings of a school for wizards. Magic is cool. Magic is intriguing. Somewhere inside us, we like the idea of things that will give us access to power or abilities that we don't possess all on our own.
The story of the ark's adventures reminds any who believe in God that believers cannot manipulate God into doing what they want him to do. God doesn't choose sides in a battle based on the geographic location of his throne. He doesn't pop out like a jack-in-the-box whenever the right magical formula is recited. Unfortunately, the biblical narrative goes on to suggest that the god of the Israelites can be manipulated if people demonstrate a bit of loyalty and give him blood. The Israelites eventually got their god to defeat their enemies, they just had to get the magical recipe right.
The divine doesn't inhabit fancy boxes or thrones any more than it inhabits magic wands or cauldrons. We don't need to recite the proper words or kill the right animals in order to convince the divine to help us and hinder others. One of the most disappointing things about the biblical narrative that so many have come to accept as truth is that God is portrayed as choosing sides, often arbitrarily. Some people walk away with the impression that the Christian God can be "for" them and "against" other people, like the fickle Greek gods of Homer. It is as if some people's prayers are more worthy of God's attention than other people's prayers. And if this is the case, then we arrive back at the assumption that God can be manipulated into doing what people want, as long as they do the right things to convince him.
There is certainly meaning in ritual. Ritual can help remind us of our place in history, our values, our identities within the larger pool of humanity. And when we focus our energy toward a specific intentional purpose in ritual, we can tap into our inherent creativity and capability quite powerfully. We can also use ritual to cement our fears and beliefs about our own weakness in place, reinforcing the idea that we are incapable of living without some supernatural intelligence working on our behalf. Ritual simply reinforces what we believe, and as such it can be a powerful tool. It's important to recognize what beliefs we are reinforcing when we engage in ritual, though.
Magical arks, magic lamps, magic wands, magic mirrors, and magic altars are fictions. The concept of reciting the proper words and performing the right physical actions to work magic spells, or prayers as it were, reflects a primitive desire to call upon something more powerful than ourselves to do something for us. Most often this also involves working against someone else in order to get what we want. It's the spiritual version of carrying a gun around. Except that if we are able to manipulate God into doing something, then we think our hands and consciences are clean because whatever happens is God's will.
And yet, it is very honest to say that we often feel weak and incapable of confronting the challenges we face in life all on our own. It can be a great comfort to think that something bigger and more powerful than us is on our side, standing against any people or circumstances that seem threatening to us. We have bought into an identity of powerlessness, convinced of our smallness in a world of big dangers. This is nothing more than fear gaining control of our thoughts, creating a perception of the world in which we need something superhuman to help us survive.
The truth is that we do not need to be more powerful than other people. We do not need any magical trinkets or magical formulas in order to manipulate an external power to work on our behalf. What we need is within us and in the connections we have with other people. We already have access to all the real power we could ever need. It isn't a power that will grant our every superficial wish, but we have the power to be personally responsible for our lives. The more we build our connection with our deepest, most noble selves and our connections with other people, the more we see the real spiritual power available to us. We have the power to create, to nurture, to inspire, to heal -- the power to set aside self-centered fears and be present in the world.
This personal capability can be difficult to see through the belief that we are small and powerless. When we believe that we need some sort of magical accoutrements to call upon some power outside of ourselves, we are essentially believing in our own weakness -- and that weakness is inherent in humanity. Believing that we are weak gives us an excuse to be less than our most noble selves, and to expect the same from others. But we are not weak. We are not powerless. Sure, we need one another. We benefit from relationship. This is a source of strength, not a sign of incapability. We are capable of forging meaningful connection with ourselves and other people, but in order to do so, we must set aside the self-deprecating fears and beliefs that convince us of our own weakness.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Deuteronomy 4-5: Rewriting the Ten Commandments and Making a Covenant with Ourselves
Deuteronomy, the "second law" (or the second telling of the agreement between the Israelites and God), imagines Moses speaking to the Israelites as they are about to enter the Promised Land, recounting their decades-long journey and reminding them of their spiritual identity as a community. As such, it contains some passages that read like pep-talks, and it is repetitious of information that was conveyed in previous books. Deuteronomy 4 is one passage in which Moses tells the Israelites why their god is the best god ever, and in many ways, he's right. Their concept of spiritual identity was indeed different from many cultures of their time. The writers of Deuteronomy also knew that by referring back to people who had supposedly been eye-witnesses to certain impressive events, later generations would be more likely to take that spiritual identity seriously. It's why some people believe in ghosts or alien abductions. Eyewitness accounts build credibility.
Out of this chapter, the passage on idolatry is of particular interest. When we read about the golden calf episode before, I wrote about our desire to worship things outside of ourselves. If you missed it, here's a link. Even once we get more comfortable with ascribing worth to ourselves, there will be moments of self-doubt. Moses reassures the Israelites that even if they are driven away and wind up carving little wooden idols for themselves, when they determine to earnestly look for God, they will find him. Spiritually speaking, this is a truth that bears repeating, or rephrasing at least.
If you should find that spark of divinity within yourself -- if you should recognize that deep truth, undeniable beauty, and intentional creativity -- and then later be overcome with doubt and look for something outside of yourself to place above you, it's alright. You haven't really lost anything, and the divine character within you will be there when you determine to recognize it again. It may get easier for you to see the more you connect with it, but it isn't something you can lose. You can't make yourself worthless.
Which brings us to the Ten Commandments. Jesus is recorded as rephrasing these commandments in a more positive light: Essentially, love God and love one another. The apostle Paul reiterates in his letters that to love others is to fulfill the law. It's hard to disagree with that. The Ten Commandments were likely influenced by Hittite and Mesopotamian treaties between lords and vassals, and they contain some of the moral absolutes that human cultures of every faith and creed have accepted to a certain degree, concepts regarding the value of human life and the sanctity of personal property. The Ten Commandments were in theory a pact between God and the Israelites, but in practical terms they were a pact between the Israelites and themselves. They were saying, in essence, "We agree to abide by these laws in order to have a unified and sustainable culture." I'm not saying that they didn't believe in God. I'm just clarifying the practical reality of their agreement.
We have many laws in our culture, too. Some of them are based on the same concepts about the value of human life and property. Acknowledging the Ten Commandments as the model of the American legal code is hotly debated from time to time when someone becomes offended that they are displayed at a courthouse somewhere. Instead of getting into the practical matters of legal code, though, it seems most appropriate for this venue to approach the Ten Commandments from a perspective of what can be spiritually reclaimed.
Slightly out of order, some of the commandments are covered by the idea that we will be generally happier people if we respect others, or love others if you prefer. We cannot honor others and still lie about them, steal from them, or otherwise betray their trust. When we are willing to recognize the universality of human value, we also recognize that we do damage to our own identities when we devalue others. We are not above anyone else, so we are not entitled to dehumanize anyone else. Honor and respect other people, and murder, adultery, theft, and false testimony become non-issues.
Coveting other people's possessions, relationships, or circumstances is not so much about devaluing another person as it is about devaluing ourselves. Be aware of what you have in your life. Acknowledge your ability to create a life focused on what matters most to you. Cultivate gratitude, and it won't be as tempting to compare what you have with what other people have. When you are grateful for your own life, it becomes easier to celebrate with other people rather than resent them.
Honoring one's mother and father is also good advice, if a bit vague. One must eventually think for oneself, and it can be debilitating to base every thought on what Mommy and Daddy think. That being said, parental wisdom is going to be an inevitable guiding force as a person develops. The relationship perhaps bears a bit more emphasis than other human relationships because of the sacrifice inherent in raising a child. It can be humbling to consider the choices parents make on our behalf. Having an even softer and more gracious heart toward the people that chose to make sacrifices for our benefit is powerfully connecting.
Not all parents are willing to make sacrifices, though. Not all parents make choices for the benefit of their children. Although they may be few and far between, some parents are dangerous to their children in one way or another. There is no obligation for us to bring ourselves into harm's way. Exercise wisdom and be as understanding as you can be. Be grateful for the gift of life if nothing else, and honor their humanity even if a close relationship seems harmful. The relationship is not more important than your well-being.
The first four commandments are the ones that are focused on spiritual things rather than our relationships with other people. In my post-Christian thinking, I place these philosophically closer to the bit about coveting because they are more about how we view ourselves than they are about how we treat other people. To begin with, recognize your worth and your capability. We've already revisited our tendency to find something outside of ourselves to worship. The truth is that we can find that worthiness within ourselves if we are willing to look there. Remember that there is nothing that you can do to make yourself worthless. Instead of placing other people or things or concepts above yourself and ascribing more value to them than you ascribe to yourself, become aware of how people and things and concepts work in cooperation with one another. Nothing is more worthy than you, and you are not more worthy than anyone else. Some people may have certain abilities that you lack, and you have some abilities that other people lack. That offers us opportunities to connect and co-create.
This concept of self-worth is at the heart of this endeavor, so it will come up again. It isn't a switch to be flipped. It's a journey, a process. It takes time and intention. For this reason, the concept of a Sabbath is a powerful tool. If we do not know ourselves and understand ourselves, we cannot hope to create truly fulfilling lives. It is important for us to set aside time -- sacred time that we prioritize -- to tap into that center of truth and beauty and creativity within us. It doesn't have to be a whole day every week, but consistent time set aside to engage with ourselves is how we learn to see the depth of our own value, and consequently recognize that quality in everybody else. It's tempting to find ways to numb ourselves to the things we don't like about our lives or to remain so busy bouncing from one thing to another that we never have to take a look within ourselves. You don't have to be afraid of what you'll find there. There may be layers of lies or negative beliefs about yourself to sort through, but if you go looking for connection, for beauty, for creativity, you will find it.
So, a suggested "covenant" we can make with ourselves, understanding that if we fall short or make a mistake that we can forgive ourselves and try again:
1. Recognize the deep truth, genuine beauty, and intentional creativity within you.
2. Value yourself as much as every other human being, and more than external things and concepts.
3. Prioritize time for self-examination to become more adept at seeing the truth, beauty, and creativity within yourself (and in other people).
4. Acknowledge the close relationships in your life and the sacrifices that other people have made on your behalf.
5. Honor and respect other people -- all people regardless of their culture or beliefs.
6. Be grateful for your life and celebrate what you have.
Out of this chapter, the passage on idolatry is of particular interest. When we read about the golden calf episode before, I wrote about our desire to worship things outside of ourselves. If you missed it, here's a link. Even once we get more comfortable with ascribing worth to ourselves, there will be moments of self-doubt. Moses reassures the Israelites that even if they are driven away and wind up carving little wooden idols for themselves, when they determine to earnestly look for God, they will find him. Spiritually speaking, this is a truth that bears repeating, or rephrasing at least.
If you should find that spark of divinity within yourself -- if you should recognize that deep truth, undeniable beauty, and intentional creativity -- and then later be overcome with doubt and look for something outside of yourself to place above you, it's alright. You haven't really lost anything, and the divine character within you will be there when you determine to recognize it again. It may get easier for you to see the more you connect with it, but it isn't something you can lose. You can't make yourself worthless.
Which brings us to the Ten Commandments. Jesus is recorded as rephrasing these commandments in a more positive light: Essentially, love God and love one another. The apostle Paul reiterates in his letters that to love others is to fulfill the law. It's hard to disagree with that. The Ten Commandments were likely influenced by Hittite and Mesopotamian treaties between lords and vassals, and they contain some of the moral absolutes that human cultures of every faith and creed have accepted to a certain degree, concepts regarding the value of human life and the sanctity of personal property. The Ten Commandments were in theory a pact between God and the Israelites, but in practical terms they were a pact between the Israelites and themselves. They were saying, in essence, "We agree to abide by these laws in order to have a unified and sustainable culture." I'm not saying that they didn't believe in God. I'm just clarifying the practical reality of their agreement.
We have many laws in our culture, too. Some of them are based on the same concepts about the value of human life and property. Acknowledging the Ten Commandments as the model of the American legal code is hotly debated from time to time when someone becomes offended that they are displayed at a courthouse somewhere. Instead of getting into the practical matters of legal code, though, it seems most appropriate for this venue to approach the Ten Commandments from a perspective of what can be spiritually reclaimed.
Slightly out of order, some of the commandments are covered by the idea that we will be generally happier people if we respect others, or love others if you prefer. We cannot honor others and still lie about them, steal from them, or otherwise betray their trust. When we are willing to recognize the universality of human value, we also recognize that we do damage to our own identities when we devalue others. We are not above anyone else, so we are not entitled to dehumanize anyone else. Honor and respect other people, and murder, adultery, theft, and false testimony become non-issues.
Coveting other people's possessions, relationships, or circumstances is not so much about devaluing another person as it is about devaluing ourselves. Be aware of what you have in your life. Acknowledge your ability to create a life focused on what matters most to you. Cultivate gratitude, and it won't be as tempting to compare what you have with what other people have. When you are grateful for your own life, it becomes easier to celebrate with other people rather than resent them.
Honoring one's mother and father is also good advice, if a bit vague. One must eventually think for oneself, and it can be debilitating to base every thought on what Mommy and Daddy think. That being said, parental wisdom is going to be an inevitable guiding force as a person develops. The relationship perhaps bears a bit more emphasis than other human relationships because of the sacrifice inherent in raising a child. It can be humbling to consider the choices parents make on our behalf. Having an even softer and more gracious heart toward the people that chose to make sacrifices for our benefit is powerfully connecting.
Not all parents are willing to make sacrifices, though. Not all parents make choices for the benefit of their children. Although they may be few and far between, some parents are dangerous to their children in one way or another. There is no obligation for us to bring ourselves into harm's way. Exercise wisdom and be as understanding as you can be. Be grateful for the gift of life if nothing else, and honor their humanity even if a close relationship seems harmful. The relationship is not more important than your well-being.
The first four commandments are the ones that are focused on spiritual things rather than our relationships with other people. In my post-Christian thinking, I place these philosophically closer to the bit about coveting because they are more about how we view ourselves than they are about how we treat other people. To begin with, recognize your worth and your capability. We've already revisited our tendency to find something outside of ourselves to worship. The truth is that we can find that worthiness within ourselves if we are willing to look there. Remember that there is nothing that you can do to make yourself worthless. Instead of placing other people or things or concepts above yourself and ascribing more value to them than you ascribe to yourself, become aware of how people and things and concepts work in cooperation with one another. Nothing is more worthy than you, and you are not more worthy than anyone else. Some people may have certain abilities that you lack, and you have some abilities that other people lack. That offers us opportunities to connect and co-create.
This concept of self-worth is at the heart of this endeavor, so it will come up again. It isn't a switch to be flipped. It's a journey, a process. It takes time and intention. For this reason, the concept of a Sabbath is a powerful tool. If we do not know ourselves and understand ourselves, we cannot hope to create truly fulfilling lives. It is important for us to set aside time -- sacred time that we prioritize -- to tap into that center of truth and beauty and creativity within us. It doesn't have to be a whole day every week, but consistent time set aside to engage with ourselves is how we learn to see the depth of our own value, and consequently recognize that quality in everybody else. It's tempting to find ways to numb ourselves to the things we don't like about our lives or to remain so busy bouncing from one thing to another that we never have to take a look within ourselves. You don't have to be afraid of what you'll find there. There may be layers of lies or negative beliefs about yourself to sort through, but if you go looking for connection, for beauty, for creativity, you will find it.
So, a suggested "covenant" we can make with ourselves, understanding that if we fall short or make a mistake that we can forgive ourselves and try again:
1. Recognize the deep truth, genuine beauty, and intentional creativity within you.
2. Value yourself as much as every other human being, and more than external things and concepts.
3. Prioritize time for self-examination to become more adept at seeing the truth, beauty, and creativity within yourself (and in other people).
4. Acknowledge the close relationships in your life and the sacrifices that other people have made on your behalf.
5. Honor and respect other people -- all people regardless of their culture or beliefs.
6. Be grateful for your life and celebrate what you have.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Exodus 32-33: Golden Calves and Undeniable Access to the Divine
Those who assume that the Bible tells things chronologically with infallible accuracy must draw some strange conclusions about the events of Exodus 32-33. The Israelites are either outright liars, fickle with their word, or they have the brains of carrots. A few chapters back, Moses told them all what God wanted them to do, and all the Israelites agreed to it. Aaron was there, along with all the other Israelite leaders. Then, Moses went off to get the stone tablets God was carving for him, which took about 5 weeks. In that span of time, the Israelites, with cooperation from Aaron, forgot what they had promised and made a golden calf to worship.
As Aaron tells the story, the Israelites were evil-hearted from the start. They didn't know what had happened to Moses, and they wanted Aaron to make some gods to go before them, so Aaron told them to take off all their jewelry, which he threw into the fire and -- Voila! -- out came a statue of a calf. That was apparently a god the Israelites could relate to and worship for a few weeks before they got distracted by something else.
Well, Moses was so angry that he broke the stone tablets he had spent so much time carving, melted down the golden idol, ground the gold into powder, scattered it in the water supply and made the Israelites drink it. Then he ordered the Levites to kill 3,000 of their fellow Jews. That's less than 1% of the total Israelite population as the Bible records it, but it's still a hell of a violent streak. Back in Genesis, Jacob had this to say about Levi and his descendants:
The story is illustrative of a big issue, obviously. We want something concrete to believe in. Even when we believe we know the divine on some level, we still want something tangible. People (both in and out of the church) worship all sorts of things: money or the accumulation of personal possessions, fame or acknowledgment, physical pleasure, power over other people, political favor -- the list could go on and on. Very few people sincerely worship an intangible, invisible force that epitomizes unconditional love for all, which is how the Christian god is often portrayed. Even the Israelite god in Exodus was closer to a Greek deity with human emotions and weaknesses, as we'll see in just a moment.
First, though, let's consider what worshiping external things really says about us psychologically. The idea of worship literally means that one is attributing worth to something. To worship a thing is to proclaim its worthiness. And when we truly worship something, a part of us is committed to the belief that whatever we're worshiping is worthy of our total effort, adoration, gratitude -- the fullness of who we are. It's why some people who worship success become workaholics and why some people who worship fame do incredibly stupid things just for the attention it will garner. Our perception isn't always healthy. It can't be completely healthy when we are looking outside of ourselves for a target to which we can attribute value.
We are terribly uncomfortable with the idea that we ourselves are worthy of anything, that we have value. It's a bit of a burden for some people. If you are worth something, then you have to live up to that somehow. If you have value, then you have to maintain that value. As if you have to keep proving your worthiness to yourself, and potentially to everybody else. So we look to something outside of ourselves so we don't have to look inward and potentially face the fear that we are, at the end of the day, valueless. That we do not even approach worthiness. Much better to find something tangible that we can target. Money. Titles. Golden calf.
What's very interesting about the Exodus story is that God tells Moses that he needs to take those people away. They need to get on the road, and God will send an angel ahead of them to clear their enemies away. If the Israelites wait around, God may not be able to control his anger at this whole idolatry business, and he just may destroy them all. And God can't travel with them, because he is so angry that he'd just kill them en route. But when Moses pleads with him, God changes his tune rather quickly. Actually, Moses' pleading comes across as a bit manipulative and demanding, but the point is that it doesn't ultimately matter what Moses or the Israelites do, the divine presence won't abandon them.
This suggests a deep truth about the character of the divine: It cannot be separated from us. Even when we have acted in ways that betray that divine nature within us, when we have pursued things that do not lead us to satisfaction or happiness or peace, there is no chance that we will be abandoned by our divine nature. We cannot ultimately blot it out or eradicate it. The divine is a part of who we are, even if we decide to use some external imagery to relate to it.
People who recognize that there is nothing earthly that is truly worth that level of devotion sometimes find solace in the concept that there is something bigger, something beyond our complete perception, watching over us and guiding us. That there is someone who has taken care of all our mistakes -- covered over our unworthiness. Certainly that figure is worthy. That person is valuable enough to be worshiped. That person surpasses all that any human being could hope to be, especially us. And thus the stories and the beliefs and the mythology is born. Because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it.
We build golden calves and mythologies because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it.
Stop being afraid to look within yourself. There is nothing you need to do to have value. You simply are valuable. You are worthy of your highest level of commitment because you are you. The divine is a part of who you are, inseparable and yet deep enough to run the risk of being overlooked. There is no amount of money or fame or drugs or charity or sermons or political action or Communion that can truly overshadow the profound value and worthiness of being you. You are worth your best effort. You do not need to use any adornments to shield yourself from any ugly truth about who you are. That fear is a lie. You are worthy. Period.
As Aaron tells the story, the Israelites were evil-hearted from the start. They didn't know what had happened to Moses, and they wanted Aaron to make some gods to go before them, so Aaron told them to take off all their jewelry, which he threw into the fire and -- Voila! -- out came a statue of a calf. That was apparently a god the Israelites could relate to and worship for a few weeks before they got distracted by something else.
Well, Moses was so angry that he broke the stone tablets he had spent so much time carving, melted down the golden idol, ground the gold into powder, scattered it in the water supply and made the Israelites drink it. Then he ordered the Levites to kill 3,000 of their fellow Jews. That's less than 1% of the total Israelite population as the Bible records it, but it's still a hell of a violent streak. Back in Genesis, Jacob had this to say about Levi and his descendants:
Moses was apparently more comfortable with their genetic propensity for violence."their swords are weapons of violence.
Let me not enter their council, let me not join their assembly,
for they have killed men in their anger and hamstrung oxen as they pleased.
Cursed be their anger, so fierce, and their fury, so cruel!
I will scatter them in Jacob and disperse them in Israel."
The story is illustrative of a big issue, obviously. We want something concrete to believe in. Even when we believe we know the divine on some level, we still want something tangible. People (both in and out of the church) worship all sorts of things: money or the accumulation of personal possessions, fame or acknowledgment, physical pleasure, power over other people, political favor -- the list could go on and on. Very few people sincerely worship an intangible, invisible force that epitomizes unconditional love for all, which is how the Christian god is often portrayed. Even the Israelite god in Exodus was closer to a Greek deity with human emotions and weaknesses, as we'll see in just a moment.
First, though, let's consider what worshiping external things really says about us psychologically. The idea of worship literally means that one is attributing worth to something. To worship a thing is to proclaim its worthiness. And when we truly worship something, a part of us is committed to the belief that whatever we're worshiping is worthy of our total effort, adoration, gratitude -- the fullness of who we are. It's why some people who worship success become workaholics and why some people who worship fame do incredibly stupid things just for the attention it will garner. Our perception isn't always healthy. It can't be completely healthy when we are looking outside of ourselves for a target to which we can attribute value.
We are terribly uncomfortable with the idea that we ourselves are worthy of anything, that we have value. It's a bit of a burden for some people. If you are worth something, then you have to live up to that somehow. If you have value, then you have to maintain that value. As if you have to keep proving your worthiness to yourself, and potentially to everybody else. So we look to something outside of ourselves so we don't have to look inward and potentially face the fear that we are, at the end of the day, valueless. That we do not even approach worthiness. Much better to find something tangible that we can target. Money. Titles. Golden calf.
What's very interesting about the Exodus story is that God tells Moses that he needs to take those people away. They need to get on the road, and God will send an angel ahead of them to clear their enemies away. If the Israelites wait around, God may not be able to control his anger at this whole idolatry business, and he just may destroy them all. And God can't travel with them, because he is so angry that he'd just kill them en route. But when Moses pleads with him, God changes his tune rather quickly. Actually, Moses' pleading comes across as a bit manipulative and demanding, but the point is that it doesn't ultimately matter what Moses or the Israelites do, the divine presence won't abandon them.
This suggests a deep truth about the character of the divine: It cannot be separated from us. Even when we have acted in ways that betray that divine nature within us, when we have pursued things that do not lead us to satisfaction or happiness or peace, there is no chance that we will be abandoned by our divine nature. We cannot ultimately blot it out or eradicate it. The divine is a part of who we are, even if we decide to use some external imagery to relate to it.
People who recognize that there is nothing earthly that is truly worth that level of devotion sometimes find solace in the concept that there is something bigger, something beyond our complete perception, watching over us and guiding us. That there is someone who has taken care of all our mistakes -- covered over our unworthiness. Certainly that figure is worthy. That person is valuable enough to be worshiped. That person surpasses all that any human being could hope to be, especially us. And thus the stories and the beliefs and the mythology is born. Because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it.
We build golden calves and mythologies because we crave some source of meaning, and we are too afraid to look within to find it.
Stop being afraid to look within yourself. There is nothing you need to do to have value. You simply are valuable. You are worthy of your highest level of commitment because you are you. The divine is a part of who you are, inseparable and yet deep enough to run the risk of being overlooked. There is no amount of money or fame or drugs or charity or sermons or political action or Communion that can truly overshadow the profound value and worthiness of being you. You are worth your best effort. You do not need to use any adornments to shield yourself from any ugly truth about who you are. That fear is a lie. You are worthy. Period.
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