The oracles against Ethiopia and Egypt in Isaiah 18-20 are more of the same kinds of prophecy as other proclamations against nations around Judah. The author of these passages predicts that Ethiopians will bring gifts to Yahweh's temple in Jerusalem, and that Egyptians will be plagued with infighting, drought, and eventually a harsh king. Later, the author claims, Egypt will experience mercy from the Israelites' supernatural, and several cities will be dedicated to Yahweh. Egypt and Assyria will be alongside Judah, reconciled and claimed as Yahweh's chosen people. The short passage that follows depicts Isaiah's sign-act of walking around naked for three years, interpreting that act to symbolize the captivity of Ethiopia and Egypt.
Scholars have a difficult time with these oracles, because there is no apparent place in known history that can match up with the implied events of the prophecies. Some aspects and details may seem to have relevance, but then other details would be out of place. This limits the application of the text as a historical testament of events or as an accurate forecasting of events that were yet to happen when the oracles were written. Since it's obvious that some editorial work has been done to create the existing versions of the book of Isaiah, some scholars attempt to rearrange passages to get a more accurate or sensible account. None of this work has any bearing on whether one can find meaning in the passage for life in the twenty-first century. If passages like this are about historical events, then their usefulness is exclusively past tense, since the events they describe either happened or failed to happen centuries ago. If one insists that the predictions are simply to demonstrate the power and authority of the Israelite deity, one must take into consideration that it's not clear that all of what is predicted here ever came to pass. In addition, a reader who already has a theistic bias doesn't need a passage about ancient nations to serve as evidence for God's power and authority, and a reader who doesn't have a theistic bias won't be convinced by the vague (and in some cases inaccurate) predictions of this passage.
A we've seen before, there are some problems with assuming that God is responsible for military conquests and natural disasters. Although the authors of Isaiah and other prophets had their reasons for seeing their supernatural as head over all nations' war efforts, they didn't understand the ramifications of their claims. They saw their society as unjust, with the wealthy and powerful neglecting their responsibilities toward the poor and disenfranchised. They saw their society as immoral, offering disingenuous religious sacrifices while they maintained systems of greed and self-indulgence. A foreign army at their doorstep was a clear indication to these prophets that Yahweh was unhappy, and that he was going to use whatever means were at his disposal to effect the curses for disobedience proclaimed in the Sinai covenant. These same prophets trusted that Yahweh would also gladly bless the Israelites, if the people fulfilled the supernatural's expectations.
One cannot maintain a view of a god worth worshiping and also insist that such a deity was at the head of every military and ordaining the decisions of every government. It was fine motivation for change that the Israelites saw Yahweh behind their exiles, because in doing so they understood something about how their society had failed its own people. They also had the luxury of seeing their god behind their return from exile. In our time, we would have to see God as the one who ordained the many genocidal acts of the twentieth century, some of which continue in parts of the world today. We would have to see God as the true commander who ordered atomic bombs to be inflicted upon thousands of non-combatants in Japan. If God is the kind of deity depicted in Isaiah and other prophets of Hebrew scripture, all atrocities of war can be justified by a simple acknowledgment that the people who suffered or died did not live up to the demands placed on them by a supernatural.
The authors of Isaiah weren't necessarily off-base regarding what they wanted for their society, and even for their neighboring societies. This passage on Egypt has some pretty favorable predictions for what Yahweh will eventually do for that nation. The view of society's potential presented in Isaiah places justice, equity, and compassion high on the list of desirable qualities, and it sees these qualities as attainable by a people, particularly the people in charge. The authors may have been displaying a perspective that their supernatural was superior to every other nation's, but they were equally critical of their own people for failing to live by the standards that supernatural had set for them.
Israelite understanding of their agreement with Yahweh was not unlike other treaties between unequal powers in the Ancient Near East. The more powerful entity essentially tells the less powerful entity, "This is what you're going to do, and this is what I'm going to do." Basically, if the less powerful nation does everything that that the powerful ruler demands, then they get the benefits of the arrangement. However, if the less powerful nation fails to do everything the powerful ruler demands, then the curses of the treaty were valid responses by the ruler. There were perhaps phrased in colorful and symbolic terms, but essentially the ruler would take military action against the disobedient weaker subjects. That's how Israel and Judah saw their relationship with Yahweh. The supernatural said, "Here are my demands. Meet them and live prosperously; fail to meet them and die."
Through all of this proclamation of doom though, there is an undercurrent of hope. Isaiah 19 forecasts a future in which peaceful relations and unity exist between nations, at least between Egypt, Assyria, and Judah. This is a bit humorous, considering Judah's insignificance as a political power. Egypt was the seat of the previous empire, and Assyria was the seat of the current empire. Perhaps the prophet was hopeful that Judah would be the seat of a future empire; such a vision of the future is certainly suggested by other passages in Isaiah. Of course, that never happened, and it isn't likely to happen. The basic gist of that future alliance, though, was that justice and peace would be the rule rather than the exception. The vision of an empire ruled by Yahweh was that it would be the sort of place any person would want to live: where no one would go hungry, and no one would be afraid (Micah 4:4).
The values are a bit inspiring. The way the authors of Isaiah thought it would happen is a bit disappointing. They didn't think that people were actually capable of creating such a reality. They asserted that their god would make it so. Perhaps one could say that, just as Yahweh was seen as the primary actor when a foreign army swept in, Yahweh can also be seen as the primary actor when people make decisions that lead toward peace and justice. The tendency, however, is for people to abdicate responsibility for creating peace and justice. If we do not place the responsibility on a supernatural, perhaps we place responsibility on the government to make the kind of world we most want to live in. We may laugh at the suggestion, but that doesn't change our expectations.
There is, of course, another way of seeing the covenant promises and curses without assuming the existence of a supernatural. However the ancients thought of their world and society, they understood intuitively what characteristics and practices helped a society thrive and what characteristics and practices tore a society down. That their supernatural does not exist has no bearing on the value of justice, equity, and compassion. The view toward a world in which people are safe and have enough is still an inspiring vision. Human beings have to take responsibility for their actions in order for our reality to approach that vision.
God is not at the head of the military; human beings are. God is not in control of who has wealth and power; human beings are. God doesn't commit war atrocities; human beings do. God doesn't effect genocide; human beings do. God cannot respond compassionately to the world; human beings can. God is not capable of creating justice and equity; human beings must.
Whatever our vision of the world is, we are responsible for moving toward that, even if our only sphere of influence is our own lives. When we set aside fear, I suspect that most of us want the same kind of world, and I suspect that we value the same sorts of things that the prophets valued: justice, equity, and compassion. Aside from irrational fear, why wouldn't we all want to live in a sustainable world where no one went hungry and no one was oppressed? If that is our most noble vision for the planet, that is what we are called to create. We aren't called by some supernatural outside of ourselves; we call ourselves by the values we hold. When you set aside fear, what is your vision for the world? What will you do today to bring your life a little bit closer to that vision?
Showing posts with label prophets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prophets. Show all posts
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Hosea 1-3: Retribution and Reconciliation, and Our Ability to Develop Integrity
During the span of rulers breezed through in 2 Kings 15, the authors of that history lament that people in Judah and Israel continued to worship foreign gods. A couple of those kings gained the approval of the historians, but even during the reigns of those kings who "did right in the sight of the Lord," the people they governed were doing some things of which the authors couldn't approve. Then, during the reign of Pekah, the Assyrian ruler Tiglath-Pileser conquered large swaths of Israel and carried captives back to Assyria. Hoshea (an usurper) assassinated Pekah and became the last king of ancient Israel. Hoshea's penchant for treachery led to Israel's destruction and exile in 722 BCE, at the hands of the Assyrian king Shalmaneser.
Of course, many biblical writers interpreted this destruction as the just consequence for the nation's religious behavior. People had done things that Yahweh forbade, and thus Yahweh punished them for their transgressions. Along with the historian authors of Kings, who certainly concluded that Yahweh's anger was the driving force behind Israel's destruction, the prophet Hosea came to similar conclusions. Hosea most likely lived during the last few decades of the northern kingdom of Israel, and he was possibly the first prophet to write of the relationship between Yahweh and his people using a marriage metaphor -- imagery that would influence later authors, like the writers of Jeremiah.
In the first three chapters of Hosea, the prophet tells of his marriage to a prostitute and the names given to their children. The marriage, of course, is symbolic of Yahweh's relationship to his people, who have become spiritually adulterous by adopting the religious practices of other peoples. The names of Gomer's children are also symbolic. Jezreel means "Yahweh sows," and it was the name of a valley where the kings of Israel had caused a great deal of bloodshed over the course of the nation's history. Lo-Ruhamah means "not loved" or "not pitied," symbolizing that Yahweh will not be compassionate toward Israel (although he hasn't given up on Judah at this point). Lo-Ammi means "not mine," because Yahweh (according to Hosea) is thoroughly rejecting Israel; they are no longer his people, and he is no longer their god.
The passages that follow Hosea's description of his unenviable marriage reflect his imagining of Yahweh as a scorned and enraged husband. Obviously, a husband is seen here as the victim of a wife's adultery, and with a husband like Yahweh, no holds are barred when it comes to retribution. After the utter and complete disciplining of Israel, however, Hosea suggests that Yahweh will entice Israel back and restore her to her former glory, in a kind of twisted co-dependent reconciliation. Hosea likewise purchases his wife back and forgives her betrayal.
There's more than one problem with this whole scene, obviously, but the biggest glaring issue is the assertion that the adulterous wife is going to change. If Israel lacked the ability or the will to be spiritually monogamous before, why would one ever expect different behavior? Perhaps a less kind question is, if Yahweh had been a god worthy of Israel's devotion and fidelity, why would the people have gone looking for a better deity in the first place? And what kind of wife or people, after being beaten within an inch of survival, will respond to sweet enticing words with renewed adoration and commitment? Shall we understand Yahweh to say, "I'm sorry I stripped you, made your lands parched and unable to produce food, showed hatred toward my children, and took away any reason you might have had for celebration, honey, but you know you really deserved it. Come on back, and things will be different"? If Yahweh or Hosea could control what Israel or Gomer did, things would have always gone ideally. So, there's no way that Hosea can honestly say what Israel or Gomer will do once restored, and it's a bit silly to assume that habitual behavior will change.
This is a big issue with externalizing the causes of the results in our lives. We cannot assume that because we go and purchase someone with some silver and barley that she will be faithful. We cannot assume that a wrathful episode of discipline will make a person or a people more receptive to love. We cannot assume that other people will change habitual behavior because of something that we do. When people change, it is because of a choice they make. Certainly we can understand what Hosea is envisioning, but the means by which he sees a more idealistic set of circumstances emerging is naive at best. We can influence the behavior of others, but we cannot control the behavior of anyone but ourselves. Apparently, not even Yahweh can control the behavior of anyone but himself -- otherwise Israel and Judah would never have been destroyed, if the theology of the biblical writers is followed.
Where does this leave us? If we release the Hebrew scriptures' depiction of Yahweh as an archaic bit of folklore that was useful for a particular people at a particular time trying to make sense of their world, then we are left with human behaviors to address. At some point, the people of ancient Israel started doing things that did not line up with the values that had been established for their culture. Perhaps some individuals had a different set of values that drove their behavior, or perhaps there were unaddressed fears that overrode deeper values. They spiraled out of control, failing to reconnect with those ideals that might have allowed them to thrive.
Every day, we have a multitude of chances to choose how we will align with our deepest values, our guiding principles. If we choose to react impulsively to irrational fears, we will walk a road of destruction. We do this, for instance, every time we believe that we must be defensive or retributive toward others. We also do this when we make decisions based on the belief that we are unlovable or unworthy, or that we are superior or entitled. We don't have to believe in a god who will punish us; we are capable of destroying ourselves without any help from the supernatural.
If we choose to act in harmony with a deeper set of values -- values that recognize the merits of equity, compassion, and justice; values that foster emotional maturity and personal responsibility; values that recognize the beauty, inspiration, and worth of every person -- if we choose to act in harmony with those things, we walk a path of life. If we are willing to see the divine as an internal human characteristic rather than an external independent entity, then we might even speak of aligning with divine will. However we see it, when we act with integrity to our deepest values, it doesn't actually matter what other people do. If other people are unfaithful, their actions reflect their own choices. They do not trap us into any requisite reaction. We can respond to their choices with integrity to our own guiding principles. We can be reconciled to others as we choose, regardless of their actions. We start by being reconciled to ourselves.
Of course, many biblical writers interpreted this destruction as the just consequence for the nation's religious behavior. People had done things that Yahweh forbade, and thus Yahweh punished them for their transgressions. Along with the historian authors of Kings, who certainly concluded that Yahweh's anger was the driving force behind Israel's destruction, the prophet Hosea came to similar conclusions. Hosea most likely lived during the last few decades of the northern kingdom of Israel, and he was possibly the first prophet to write of the relationship between Yahweh and his people using a marriage metaphor -- imagery that would influence later authors, like the writers of Jeremiah.
In the first three chapters of Hosea, the prophet tells of his marriage to a prostitute and the names given to their children. The marriage, of course, is symbolic of Yahweh's relationship to his people, who have become spiritually adulterous by adopting the religious practices of other peoples. The names of Gomer's children are also symbolic. Jezreel means "Yahweh sows," and it was the name of a valley where the kings of Israel had caused a great deal of bloodshed over the course of the nation's history. Lo-Ruhamah means "not loved" or "not pitied," symbolizing that Yahweh will not be compassionate toward Israel (although he hasn't given up on Judah at this point). Lo-Ammi means "not mine," because Yahweh (according to Hosea) is thoroughly rejecting Israel; they are no longer his people, and he is no longer their god.
The passages that follow Hosea's description of his unenviable marriage reflect his imagining of Yahweh as a scorned and enraged husband. Obviously, a husband is seen here as the victim of a wife's adultery, and with a husband like Yahweh, no holds are barred when it comes to retribution. After the utter and complete disciplining of Israel, however, Hosea suggests that Yahweh will entice Israel back and restore her to her former glory, in a kind of twisted co-dependent reconciliation. Hosea likewise purchases his wife back and forgives her betrayal.
There's more than one problem with this whole scene, obviously, but the biggest glaring issue is the assertion that the adulterous wife is going to change. If Israel lacked the ability or the will to be spiritually monogamous before, why would one ever expect different behavior? Perhaps a less kind question is, if Yahweh had been a god worthy of Israel's devotion and fidelity, why would the people have gone looking for a better deity in the first place? And what kind of wife or people, after being beaten within an inch of survival, will respond to sweet enticing words with renewed adoration and commitment? Shall we understand Yahweh to say, "I'm sorry I stripped you, made your lands parched and unable to produce food, showed hatred toward my children, and took away any reason you might have had for celebration, honey, but you know you really deserved it. Come on back, and things will be different"? If Yahweh or Hosea could control what Israel or Gomer did, things would have always gone ideally. So, there's no way that Hosea can honestly say what Israel or Gomer will do once restored, and it's a bit silly to assume that habitual behavior will change.
This is a big issue with externalizing the causes of the results in our lives. We cannot assume that because we go and purchase someone with some silver and barley that she will be faithful. We cannot assume that a wrathful episode of discipline will make a person or a people more receptive to love. We cannot assume that other people will change habitual behavior because of something that we do. When people change, it is because of a choice they make. Certainly we can understand what Hosea is envisioning, but the means by which he sees a more idealistic set of circumstances emerging is naive at best. We can influence the behavior of others, but we cannot control the behavior of anyone but ourselves. Apparently, not even Yahweh can control the behavior of anyone but himself -- otherwise Israel and Judah would never have been destroyed, if the theology of the biblical writers is followed.
Where does this leave us? If we release the Hebrew scriptures' depiction of Yahweh as an archaic bit of folklore that was useful for a particular people at a particular time trying to make sense of their world, then we are left with human behaviors to address. At some point, the people of ancient Israel started doing things that did not line up with the values that had been established for their culture. Perhaps some individuals had a different set of values that drove their behavior, or perhaps there were unaddressed fears that overrode deeper values. They spiraled out of control, failing to reconnect with those ideals that might have allowed them to thrive.
Every day, we have a multitude of chances to choose how we will align with our deepest values, our guiding principles. If we choose to react impulsively to irrational fears, we will walk a road of destruction. We do this, for instance, every time we believe that we must be defensive or retributive toward others. We also do this when we make decisions based on the belief that we are unlovable or unworthy, or that we are superior or entitled. We don't have to believe in a god who will punish us; we are capable of destroying ourselves without any help from the supernatural.
If we choose to act in harmony with a deeper set of values -- values that recognize the merits of equity, compassion, and justice; values that foster emotional maturity and personal responsibility; values that recognize the beauty, inspiration, and worth of every person -- if we choose to act in harmony with those things, we walk a path of life. If we are willing to see the divine as an internal human characteristic rather than an external independent entity, then we might even speak of aligning with divine will. However we see it, when we act with integrity to our deepest values, it doesn't actually matter what other people do. If other people are unfaithful, their actions reflect their own choices. They do not trap us into any requisite reaction. We can respond to their choices with integrity to our own guiding principles. We can be reconciled to others as we choose, regardless of their actions. We start by being reconciled to ourselves.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
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.
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.
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.
Monday, November 12, 2012
2 Samuel 6-10: Beliefs Are Worth Examining
The story of Yahweh's promise that David's throne would be established forever was nearly as important to the ancient Israelites as the legendary agreement made between Moses and Yahweh. After the kingdom of Israel split, the promise to David was understandably more important to Judah, the Israelite kingdom that kept the temple and the throne. Although David wanted to build a great temple to the Yahweh, it is his son Solomon who gets credit for that achievement in the book of Samuel. By the time the book of Chronicles was written, however, David was seen as having a much greater role in the temple planning. David's legendary status for the culture led the author(s) to leave out his human mistakes and failings that were recorded in Samuel. Incidentally, 1 Chronicles records the promise of Davidic rule in chapter 17 more or less identically to the version in 2 Samuel.
The challenge for the Israelites was the same as it is for many people today: Once you take a stand on a particular belief, you look at the world through that lens. If the belief and the world seem to be in conflict, we try to figure out why. Typically, we don't want to give up our belief (because then we would have to admit that we were wrong about something), and we can't change the world. So, we invent some reason that the conflict might exist. The ancient Israelites eventually had to invent reasons why their kingdom was overthrown and they were taken into exile. Some people decided that the promise to David was not unconditional, and that the nation's unfaithfulness toward their cultural religion had landed them in hot water. Others decided that the promise to David meant that restoration was imminent. Later, some people in the Christian sect would trace the lineage of Jesus back to David, thus establishing Jesus as the fulfillment of that promise of eternal rule.
History is a strange and liquid creature. We do not report every detail when we recount history; we concentrate on those events that seem to form a pattern. We look at events that seem significant, either because of their impact on the world or because of their place in a sequence of events. We learn about the inventors of significant machines or processes, but we do not learn about the inventor of the spring or specialized wing nut that allowed the larger machine to function. We remember the names of assassins or generals, the dates of battles and victories, and when we delve into the systems and subcultures to gain a clear understanding of what led up to significant events, we know what we're looking for. We seek to understand the cause-and-effect relationships that make sense of history. Some people recording the history of the ancient Israelites saw certain cause-and-effect chains, while other people had a different perspective. In the biblical narrative, both are preserved to a certain extent, but they are every bit a product of their culture.
Israelite historians -- at least the ones that wrote anything that wound up in the Bible -- always traced their cause-and-effect chains back to God. When God was pleased, he allowed their country to prosper. When God was angry, he allowed foreign powers to destroy their cities. We have the same kind of thinkers in our world today. "I'm wealthy, and therefore God must want me to be prosperous while others struggle." "I'm sick or injured, so God must want me to suffer for some reason." Hurricanes become messages from God rather than natural events. Elections are interpreted as punishment or blessing rather than democratic process. Our personal lives become mysterious chains of cause-and-effect that are beyond our control if God is seen as the one moving the pieces on the board, while we are left to figure out why. When we look back at history, whether it is our own personal history or the history of a larger community, are we honestly seeing rational chains of events? Or are we crediting supernatural forces with some intelligent purpose in the course of history that we can only observe?
In the biblical narrative, when David hears the promise from Yahweh for the first time, it is delivered by the prophet Nathan. There haven't been a lot of prophets in the narrative before this point, but they become more important in the generations that follow David. Prophets in the Bible speak for God. They call people to accountability, and they make predictions based on the signs of the times. Sometimes their prognostications are intended to tell people to shape up, and sometimes they offer messages of hope. Ancient peoples relied upon prophets because they didn't believe that just anyone could have direct access to the divine. Of course, people didn't always listen to the prophets' messages. It all depended on how much the prophet was challenging something the people believed.
Many people today have very adamant beliefs. Some of these are religious beliefs, but most people wind up with a whole catalog of beliefs about themselves, other people, life in general, the government, the economy, and on and on. Most people are not well practiced at examining those beliefs when something in reality doesn't line up with their beliefs, however. It's easier on some level to concoct another auxiliary belief to explain any discrepancies between our beliefs and reality. We might wind up with an enormous pile of beliefs all designed to support one thing about which we've decided to dig in our heels, never examining how reasonable or beneficial those beliefs are. Our entire view of reality -- including our view of ourselves -- may be clouded by a mass of beliefs we've never really examined.
The divine is somewhere underneath that pile of beliefs. If there is any guidance to be had from the divine, we have to clear away some of the irrationalities to which we've grown accustomed and make sure that our beliefs make sense. No prophet can come along and tell you what the divine wants from you. No one knows what the divine is doing in someone else's life. When anyone claims to know what God wants for somebody else's life, that person is lying, whether they realize it or not. The prophets in our lives might point us toward the divine within us. Our prophets can hold us accountable to the agreements we have made. But people can not know what the divine intends for anyone but themselves. Whenever someone claims to speak for God, all they are expressing is their own personal values and desires. They are speaking from within their own big pile of unexamined and unquestioned beliefs, describing their own clouded view of reality as if their perspective is the only possible way to see the world. It is an understandable perspective. After all, their view is honestly the only possible way for them to see the world in that moment.
Here is a view of reality for you to test against your own beliefs:
What is your truth? Really? Do your beliefs and actions reflect that truth? Are you happy with that? Does it lead you to the life you most want to live? To the world you most want to create?
The challenge for the Israelites was the same as it is for many people today: Once you take a stand on a particular belief, you look at the world through that lens. If the belief and the world seem to be in conflict, we try to figure out why. Typically, we don't want to give up our belief (because then we would have to admit that we were wrong about something), and we can't change the world. So, we invent some reason that the conflict might exist. The ancient Israelites eventually had to invent reasons why their kingdom was overthrown and they were taken into exile. Some people decided that the promise to David was not unconditional, and that the nation's unfaithfulness toward their cultural religion had landed them in hot water. Others decided that the promise to David meant that restoration was imminent. Later, some people in the Christian sect would trace the lineage of Jesus back to David, thus establishing Jesus as the fulfillment of that promise of eternal rule.
History is a strange and liquid creature. We do not report every detail when we recount history; we concentrate on those events that seem to form a pattern. We look at events that seem significant, either because of their impact on the world or because of their place in a sequence of events. We learn about the inventors of significant machines or processes, but we do not learn about the inventor of the spring or specialized wing nut that allowed the larger machine to function. We remember the names of assassins or generals, the dates of battles and victories, and when we delve into the systems and subcultures to gain a clear understanding of what led up to significant events, we know what we're looking for. We seek to understand the cause-and-effect relationships that make sense of history. Some people recording the history of the ancient Israelites saw certain cause-and-effect chains, while other people had a different perspective. In the biblical narrative, both are preserved to a certain extent, but they are every bit a product of their culture.
Israelite historians -- at least the ones that wrote anything that wound up in the Bible -- always traced their cause-and-effect chains back to God. When God was pleased, he allowed their country to prosper. When God was angry, he allowed foreign powers to destroy their cities. We have the same kind of thinkers in our world today. "I'm wealthy, and therefore God must want me to be prosperous while others struggle." "I'm sick or injured, so God must want me to suffer for some reason." Hurricanes become messages from God rather than natural events. Elections are interpreted as punishment or blessing rather than democratic process. Our personal lives become mysterious chains of cause-and-effect that are beyond our control if God is seen as the one moving the pieces on the board, while we are left to figure out why. When we look back at history, whether it is our own personal history or the history of a larger community, are we honestly seeing rational chains of events? Or are we crediting supernatural forces with some intelligent purpose in the course of history that we can only observe?
In the biblical narrative, when David hears the promise from Yahweh for the first time, it is delivered by the prophet Nathan. There haven't been a lot of prophets in the narrative before this point, but they become more important in the generations that follow David. Prophets in the Bible speak for God. They call people to accountability, and they make predictions based on the signs of the times. Sometimes their prognostications are intended to tell people to shape up, and sometimes they offer messages of hope. Ancient peoples relied upon prophets because they didn't believe that just anyone could have direct access to the divine. Of course, people didn't always listen to the prophets' messages. It all depended on how much the prophet was challenging something the people believed.
Many people today have very adamant beliefs. Some of these are religious beliefs, but most people wind up with a whole catalog of beliefs about themselves, other people, life in general, the government, the economy, and on and on. Most people are not well practiced at examining those beliefs when something in reality doesn't line up with their beliefs, however. It's easier on some level to concoct another auxiliary belief to explain any discrepancies between our beliefs and reality. We might wind up with an enormous pile of beliefs all designed to support one thing about which we've decided to dig in our heels, never examining how reasonable or beneficial those beliefs are. Our entire view of reality -- including our view of ourselves -- may be clouded by a mass of beliefs we've never really examined.
The divine is somewhere underneath that pile of beliefs. If there is any guidance to be had from the divine, we have to clear away some of the irrationalities to which we've grown accustomed and make sure that our beliefs make sense. No prophet can come along and tell you what the divine wants from you. No one knows what the divine is doing in someone else's life. When anyone claims to know what God wants for somebody else's life, that person is lying, whether they realize it or not. The prophets in our lives might point us toward the divine within us. Our prophets can hold us accountable to the agreements we have made. But people can not know what the divine intends for anyone but themselves. Whenever someone claims to speak for God, all they are expressing is their own personal values and desires. They are speaking from within their own big pile of unexamined and unquestioned beliefs, describing their own clouded view of reality as if their perspective is the only possible way to see the world. It is an understandable perspective. After all, their view is honestly the only possible way for them to see the world in that moment.
Here is a view of reality for you to test against your own beliefs:
People matter.I believe that there is no intelligent supernatural being orchestrating events in history or making promises for the future. I believe that our stories as individuals and as a people are accounts of human success and failure, of intentional and unintentional human actions that have consequences. Our histories and our futures are stories about us, not merely stories that we witness from the sidelines. And since all of our stories are human stories about people, I must conclude that people matter. I cannot do otherwise. For me, this is truth. Against this truth, all of my beliefs can be weighed, all of my actions evaluated.
What we do has an impact on other people, and since people matter, what we do matters.
And if what we do matters, then it's worth being conscious of what we are doing.
It's worth being conscious of what we are doing because the people we touch matter.
And if people matter, then we matter.
If we matter, then we are worth our own care and attention.
What we do is informed by what we believe,
so our beliefs are worth some care and attention as well.
If we take the time to examine what we believe and consider the impact of what we do,
we stand a better chance of living the kinds of lives we want to live,
because if people matter -- if we matter -- then it only makes sense to live like people matter.
If we insist on believing and doing things that devalue ourselves or other people,
why?
What purpose does it serve in our lives to believe that people don't matter?
What purpose does it serve in our lives to believe that we don't matter?
Are we alright with that?
What is your truth? Really? Do your beliefs and actions reflect that truth? Are you happy with that? Does it lead you to the life you most want to live? To the world you most want to create?
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