* to encourage a reasoned awareness of how our beliefs impact the way we interact with the world around us
* to foster intelligent and open dialogue
* to inspire a sense of spirituality that has real meaning in day-to-day life
Showing posts with label social justice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social justice. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Taking God Out of Justice Conversations

Recently, a number of states have passed legislation that demonizes transgender people. Hopefully, it's obvious that these laws are driven by fear, and that this is not a way to get what people most deeply want and need by creating less suffering and greater wholeness (one of our big questions). Marginalizing and oppressing people who seem different to you may be satisfying in the moment, but it certainly cannot be said to create greater wholeness in the world. Many people have made some very insightful critiques of this trend, and I don't need to repeat them all here. However, I do want to explore briefly how God-based arguments contribute to the problem of persecution more than to the solution.

I know that when people feel powerless, they look for ways to make themselves feel powerful. And one thing that makes people feel powerful is bullying, and legislation that limits the rights of a minority group in order to make emotionally immature people feel safe is bullying. The whole argument about who is allowed to use which restroom is ludicrous from the start, and it's clear from people's behavior that folks are really not all that concerned about who uses which public restroom. 

If a predator wanted to hurt your daughter in a public restroom, they could do so at any time. They'd have to break the law -- it has never been legal in this country to assault a person in a public restroom -- but they could do it. If you were that concerned about your daughter being harmed in a public restroom, you'd make sure she never went to the restroom unaccompanied -- which is kind of weird, but it's what you would do if you were really that afraid that public restrooms are havens for predators.

The most important point in all of this is that transgender people are not predators. They're people. Moreover, they're people who use the appropriate restroom for their gender. The fear is not really about predators in the restroom (which has nothing to do with transgender people), it's a fear of transgender people -- which is really ironic, since transgender people are the ones who are being harassed and threatened in this scenario. And this fear of transgender people is connected to a fear of homosexuality, which is less severe than it used to be in the United States. Still, you can hear many a preacher on Sunday morning riling up a congregation from the pulpit by bad-mouthing LGBT folks. 

And that's really where all of this fear gets its legitimacy. When religious leaders fill people with irrational fear (or amplify people's fears), it isn't to create greater wholeness in the world. Fear doesn't do that. Religious leaders have an agenda that is more about preservation of an organization or ideology (or less scrupulously, the preservation of their own lifestyle), and they think that fear is a powerful motivator. Or these religious leaders are so fear-driven themselves that they can't help but spew it all over people.

Thankfully, there are other religious voices who are less fearful. Amid the persecution and marginalization of transgender people and others, some religious leaders speak out for the oppressed and call for an end to the harassment and fear. They speak of love and connection and community, and all of this is well and good. They see transgender people as human beings worthy of the same rights as any other human being. If they were to stop there, the argument would be sound. Some people choose to bring God into the argument, however, and it immediately becomes a less fruitful conversation.

When a fearful person claims that God is angry about transgender people or homosexuality or anything else, they have an unassailable conviction. You can say, "Where does scripture say that?" and no matter what the claim is, a person can indicate a scriptural text that supports their belief. The Bible says to love, but it also says to kill people who do anything that isn't good for the preservation of ancient Jewish culture. So, when a person says, "The Bible condemns homosexuals to death," they're right. When they say, "God wants us to kill homosexuals," then we have a problem. And loving believers try to resolve that problem in a number of ways.

You may say, "The Bible also says x." This simply discredits the Bible to a rational person, because it's making contradictory assertions or commands. A person who has committed themselves to fear is often impervious to this sort of argument. They'll stick to their guns because they believe that they're right, just like you probably will. 

You may say, "That isn't what the Bible means in that passage." Then you have an unresolvable conflict of interpretation. Since everyone makes up their own meaning for scriptural texts, there's very little to be gained from an unwarranted assertion one way or the other. Even biblical scholars who have spent years studying a text disagree on the basic meaning, sometimes proposing outlandish assumptions to justify their view. You don't know what the Bible means any more than anyone else does.

You may say, "No, God wants us to love." This is a much healthier way to live, and a person who bases their actions on love rather than fear will certainly create more wholeness in the world. There's no solid defense for this claim about God, though. If you can't know what a scriptural text actually means, why in the world would you think you can know what God wants? You think God wants one thing, they think God wants another thing, and neither of you has any evidence one way or the other apart from your own assumptions, feelings, and imaginations. 

I've heard well-meaning theists claim things like, "We are all God's children," only to turn around and hear other people talk about how being God's children means we have to be obedient to God's law or be disciplined by God. I've heard liberal Christians talk about universal salvation -- that Jesus has paved the way for everyone to go to heaven -- only to turn around and hear another prominent Christian voice talk about hell with equal conviction. Using God to justify any behavior is dishonest, because you are the one who decides how to interpret your scripture, and you are the one who determines for yourself what you think God wants. You are the one who decides.

Now, I've also heard people say that you can define God however you want to. God is a universal force of love. God is nature. God is your conscience. God is the space between us. If you're going to use so flexible a definition for a word that no one knows what you mean unless you define it for them, then the word is useless. Why use it at all? When you know that so many other people in the world define "artichoke" a certain way, why would you decide that when you use the word "artichoke" you actually mean "surround sound speaker system"? Sure, you can allow for everyone to define "artichoke" in a way that is personally meaningful to them, but then meaningful communication between people is impossible. Your personal definition for God is only useful for you. The moment you try to have a meaningful conversation using your personal definition with another person using their personal definition, you will fail. We have to share a common definition for the words we use if we want our communication to be meaningful.

If you stop using "God" as a stand-in for another legitimate concept, your communication can be more meaningful. Say "love" when you mean love; say "nature" when you mean nature. If we use the words we actually mean, we'll have a better quality of communication. The same is true when it comes to issues of justice. If you believe people should be treated with love and respect, then say "I believe people should be treated with love and respect." Don't try to legitimize your belief by pinning your values on God. People who believe the exact opposite of you will attribute their beliefs to God too, and neither one of you will have any ground to stand on. 

The truth of the matter is that we co-create a society together, and when people are mistreated, marginalized, or bullied, our entire system has to deal with the problem. Some organizations are shifting to unisex restrooms, which is an amazingly loving and affirming way to make oppressive laws obsolete. "We don't care who you are or what gender you are, we recognize your right to use the restroom." How silly that it's necessary to express that, but how wonderful that it's being expressed. Nothing religious need be added to that. 

Perhaps you have ways available to you to ensure that transgender people -- and other folks who are marginalized in our society -- are treated as human beings of inherent worth and dignity. You don't need to justify loving behavior with scripture or claims about God. You can justify any behavior with scripture, so that's meaningless. And you can't legitimately justify any behavior with claims about God, so that's meaningless too. Take a step back from your fear, re-align with your deepest values, and create wholeness in the world. Every person has inherent worth and dignity, and when that is affirmed in our lives and in the systems we co-create with one another, we live into greater wholeness. Anything less than that is fear, and fear has no place in a world made whole.

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 pseudoprophÄ“tÄ“s (“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.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Shepherd-like Responsibility and Child-like Idealism in Matthew 18:12–13

Albeit wildly out of sequence with the New Testament passages considered thus far, the following thoughts are the result of an academic study of two verses in the Gospel of Matthew. I offer them here for whatever value you may find in them. 

A few textual critical concerns in Mt 18 require some attention before turning to the short parable in verses 12–13. The first of these occurs with verse 11, in that the earliest extant versions of the text do not contain this phrase, “For the Son of Man came (to seek and) to save the lost.” This seems to have been added as connective and clarifying material, but as such it potentially changes the original scope of the passage. In omitting this verse, a more specific reading is preserved. Although for some this may reduce the usefulness of the passage, imaginative interpreters are seldom daunted by such limitations. Thus, verse 11 has been omitted.

The next challenge appears in Mt 18:14, in which the pronoun preceding “father in heaven” is in question. No matter what pronoun one chooses here, however, it is clear that the author of Matthew is having the character of Jesus refer to God. It is best not to make too much of the pronoun discrepancy when the intent of the phrase is so blatantly clear. Similarly, whether one follows a longer or shorter text by one word (“truly”) in Mt 18:19 is inconsequential. One must assume that a devotee of the Jesus ideal would portray the words of Jesus as true, thus an additional “truly” inserted into the text cannot make the words that follow more true. Inclusion of the word is probably not reflective of a desire for clarity, but rather a preference for a particular stylistic affectation.

In Mt 18:15, however, the phrase “against you” was possibly added by a scribe for clarification, or was perhaps omitted from the original text to make the passage more universal. In this instance, personal relationships are better served by letting the phrase stand as a more specific qualifier as to when one should confront a fellow human being. The human propensity to count as wrong or sinful any behavior with which one disagrees opens this passage up to abuse. Thus, a reader’s voracious appetite for correcting any perceived misdeeds by others may be tempered by a more limiting reading. Thus, since the longer reading is plausibly authentic, this discussion assumes the verse to read, “If a fellow disciple sins against you.”

In the passage leading up to Mt 18:12, the disciples have approached Jesus to inquire about status in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus responds by referring to a child, stating that the disciples would never enter the kingdom of heaven unless they change and become as children. Those who assume the societal status of a child will be greatest in the kingdom, and those who are welcoming to children are, in effect, welcoming Jesus. Then, the character of Jesus proclaims that, although the world is full of temptations, a person who causes temptation—particularly toward children—would be better off dead. In essence, the author suggests that suicide is preferable to the “eternal fire” that awaits an individual who leads a child astray.

This passage qualifies “little ones” as “those who believe in [Jesus]” (Mt 18:6), and this opens up room for interpretation. One might conclude that the little ones to which the character of Jesus refers are actual children who also happen to believe in him. One might justifiably conclude, however, that the little ones in this passage are now the followers of Jesus who have become like little children, suggesting that Jesus is here proclaiming woe upon any person who tempts one of his faithful followers away from faith. It is impossible to tell with certainty whether the child imagery is at this point a metaphor for the attitude of those who understand Jesus’ message or whether a child is just a child. From Mt 18:10, which immediately precedes the parable under scrutiny, one might extrapolate that the author is referring to those who are new to the Jesus cult. “Do not despise those who have less experience than you at this disciple business.” If an earlier version of a text were to be discovered which left out the qualifying “those who believe in me” in Mt 18:6, these questions would be moot, as the more specific reading of children as actual children would be much more clear. While the interpretation of “little ones” is subject to debate, the flow of discussion within the context of the passage as a whole leads from this idea of children (and those who are like children) being greatest in the kingdom to the idea of conflict resolution and agreement among members of the faith community. The child imagery disappears following Mt 18:14, and the passage heads in a new direction about how to address conflict between believers healthily, followed by a dubious promise about wish fulfillment in harmonious pairings of people.

Since verse 14 concludes the two-verse “lost sheep” parable with the explanation that God is unwilling for any children (or however one wishes to interpret “little ones”) to be spiritually lost, it seems clear that the passage which follows builds on that with a contrast to how one might deal with a more mature believer who has gone astray. Essentially, one should speak with the person directly, then take another person along to speak with the person, and finally bring the matter publicly before the collective. At any point along this trajectory, responsible adult believers can recognize how their actions have been out of alignment with their beliefs, and they can then make a course correction and remain within the community. Once the matter has been publicly addressed, however, if the adult believer is unwilling to acknowledge wrongdoing, it is perfectly acceptable to cast them out of the faith community. This is in contrast to how one should treat the “little ones” of the passage prior to this instruction, toward whom the community of believers should be protective.

Thus, the larger passage flows as follows: The disciples ask about status in the kingdom. Jesus uses a child to point out that their priorities are skewed, indicating that only people who are child-like in status will even be admitted into the kingdom. From this statement, Jesus pronounces judgment on any person who would teach a child to behave wrongfully and asserts that children deserve special attention from the community of faith, presumably so that they will grow into adults who can be meaningful, responsible participants in the faith community. Adults, by contrast, are capable of handling things differently. Adult members of the faith community should be more able to recognize and address their wrongdoing, and it is detrimental to the community to be overindulgent toward misbehavior of adult participants. Conflict among the adults in the faith community should be resolved directly and methodically, with real consequences for those who would assert their own selfish behavior over the good of the community. With this context in mind, it is therefore quite likely that the “little ones” and the “lost sheep” of Mt 18:6–14 refer specifically to children.

Although it is beyond the scope of the lost sheep parable in Mt 18:12–13, much has been considered in the larger Christian community about what it may mean to “become like little children” (Mt 18:3). Certainly, there are those who would assert the value of a certain ignorance of the way the world works, claiming that mature scientific knowledge of reality is a hindrance to faith. Some might suggest that children have an innocence that jaded adults lack, although this opens up the larger controversial subject of original sin. Perhaps the author of Matthew is simply referring to the status of children in society, suggesting a connection only to the status of disciples in the larger context of the kingdom of heaven. While it would be futile to attempt to resolve the larger debate on the subject, it is worth considering that the author of Matthew is suggesting that children are less concerned about status and more adept at living in the moment without regard to future consequences. As will become apparent, the parable in Mt 18:12–13 suggests that children require adults to keep them from going too far afield with this freedom, but if adults were somehow able to pair mature personal responsibility with carefree idealism, what an incredible force to behold that would be! Truly, if one lacks the ability to live by what some may consider to be an unrealistic set of ideals, one cannot hope to follow the teachings of Jesus as they are presented in the gospels.

With regard to the intended audience for Mt 18:12–13, the parable falls within a passage in which the author of Matthew portrays Jesus addressing his disciples. It is probable that the author of Matthew is actually addressing the participants of the early church, recommending how the early church should address various issues through the presumed words of Jesus. There is wisdom in what is expressed for any community, and as every person is a member of some community, the passage has the potential to speak to how any human being might relate to children and manage conflict, whether one is a disciple of Jesus or not.

The actual parable is in Mt 18:12–13. In this short passage, the character of Jesus suggests that the owner of a flock of sheep would leave 99% of his flock in order to look for one sheep that wandered away. Recovering that one sheep will be a source of joy surpassing that of retaining the majority of the sheep, which stayed in a place of safety and were not the cause of any undue stress. There is truth here regarding sheep and human behavior. Sheep are often oblivious to their surroundings, and it is within the nature of a sheep to wander away, not out of any willful disobedience, but out of sheer ignorance. Likewise, when a person recovers a possession once imagined to be lost, that possession becomes more prized than other possessions that were safely kept out of harm’s way, regardless of the actual value of the possessions in question.

As previously stated, the parable equates children with sheep, prone to be oblivious to much of the world around them and ignorant of the consequences of their actions. While the conclusion of the parable mentions God, the thrust of the story is not that God will take care of children. Rather, the parable serves as a motivation for the disciples to pay attention to the children in their midst, to guide them—and rescue them if necessary—rather than despise them or look upon them with disinterest. In fact, the author of Matthew asserts that when the angels look at children, they see the face of God. Thus, the disciples would do well to look for the face of God when they look upon the children in their midst.

Even for twenty-first century adults, this admonition has profound ramifications. Children are children; children are not adults. One should not expect of children what one expects of adults. Children understand things differently than adults, they respond to the world differently from adults, and they are not aware of the ramifications of their actions to the same extent that one might expect adults to be. Thus, adults should allow children to be children, understanding that they warrant a bit more guidance and patience than adults do. If adults desire for children to grow up to be responsible members of a greater collective, it is the duty of adults to teach children how to do that. This happens through direct (patient, age-appropriate) teaching, but children also learn through modeling. If a child sees adults living responsibly, then the child learns to mimic that example. Sometimes healthy models are not evident in a child’s nuclear family. Thus, the potentially overused and trite African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child,” is an appropriate message to take away from this parable.

Human beings are in a very real way connected to one another. What happens to the children in a community affects everyone in the community—regardless of actual familiar relationships. It is therefore imperative to the health of a society that the adults of a community notice, respect, spend time with, care for, and instruct the children in their midst. To neglect the well-being of children is to treat them as non-persons. Put another way, extrapolated from Mt 18:10, to fail to see children as important is to fail to see God as important. Asserting the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings is impossible if one does not assert the inherent worth and dignity of children. Ignoring the development of meaningful relationships with and responsible behavior toward children is shortsighted and ultimately self-destructive. The children of today are, after all, the foundation of tomorrow’s society.

If one considers these conclusions credible, then one might take action in several ways. First, one might develop more responsible, mature, self-differentiated adult relationships, so that children who bear witness to these relationships have a healthy model from which to learn. Second, one might adopt a discipline of acknowledging children with respect rather than ignoring them, inviting meaningful interaction that validates a child’s own personality, opinions, and interests while still allowing for instruction and encouraging growth. Third, one might take more seriously the injustices toward children evident in one’s neighborhood, city, nation, and world. One person cannot overcome all of the challenges that children face, and yet one person can take a stand that children matter.

While many individuals become intensely engaged in the issue of reproductive rights, there are actual children living out of the womb and in the twenty-first century world who experience all manner of suffering, some of which is inflicted upon them by the adults in their midst. To be blunt, children are largely helpless against poverty, disease, lack of food or potable water, educational inequities, and humanity’s seemingly insatiable lust for violence, not to mention the greed that drives some predatory adults to force children into serving as laborers, soldiers, drug mules, or sex workers. One person cannot solve all of the world’s problems; the shepherd in Mt 18:12–13 does not go on a crusade to recover every lost sheep, after all. Yet every small action and every statement of conviction against the mistreatment and devaluation of children can contribute to a greater shift of cultural awareness and response. Transformative action can be as simple as being more responsive to the children in one’s own immediate sphere of contact. The divine may even be visible in youthful faces, if one can abandon concerns of status and lifestyle and blend the responsibility of an adult participant in the world with the bold idealism of a child.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Judges 9: Healthy Ambition and the Senseless Fear that Is Selfishness

So far, the book of Judges has been mostly about people who accomplished military victories for the Israelites.  After Joshua led a fairly straightforward invasion of the land to which the Israelites felt themselves entitled, it's no small wonder that they had a few enemies.  According to the writers of Judges, the oppression the Israelites experienced in the ongoing contest for power in the region is attributed to their disobedience to their god.  When the Israelites behave themselves, their god protects them.  When the Israelites are bad, their god lets them get overrun by other people who worship other gods.  Then, someone comes along and drives back the infidels -- often through some kind of subterfuge -- leading the Israelites into a period of prosperity which inevitably cycles back to their faithlessness, abandonment, and misery.

Abimilek is a bit of a detour from that formula.  Here we have a ruthless murderer who worms his way into leadership from within a tribe of Israel's own ranks -- a wicked ruler chosen by a wicked people.  He's killed by a nameless woman who drops a millstone on his head and a nameless armor-bearer who mercifully grants him an honorable death.  The writer of this tale is clear that God is the one who created the strife that led to Abimilek's downfall, but it seems like unnecessary effort on God's part.  A person who is willing to kill dozens of his own relatives just to solidify a tenuous position of political power is likely to rub a few people the wrong way.

The people under Abimilek's rule worshiped a god named or titled "Baal-Berith" (or "lord of the covenant").  It's difficult to say what sort of deity Baal-Berith was.  There simply isn't enough factual information about this particular god to know how he was different from the Israelites' other gods.  What's clear from the narrative is that the people who put Abimilek in power were motivated by selfish goals.  Not all that different from twenty-first century politics.  Their own motivations ultimately worked against them.  They focused their attention on things that ultimately had no value, and they suffered as a result.

It isn't difficult to look back through history and find people who acted out of selfish ambition, caring nothing for how much harm they did to others in order to get money or power.  Some of them passed on a legacy to their progeny that we can still see at work in the world today.  Many of them ultimately brought about their own destruction.  There are also wealthy, powerful people who act out of a deep desire to have a positive impact on the world.  The difference isn't in the value of their bank accounts or the reach of their power.  The difference is in how they attained what they have and how they make use of it.

Most of us will not be Abimileks.  Most people don't have the capacity to kill seventy siblings and lay claim to a throne.  We also aren't likely to be Ghandis or Mandelas.  Still, all of us face choices about whether we will act out of selfish ambition or act out of a deeper sense of truth.  Let's be clear: Selfishness is just another word for fear.  We become selfish when we are afraid that we won't get what we want, that we will be overlooked, that someone will take advantage of us somehow.  We believe in the scarcity of whatever it is that we want, and we set our minds so fervently toward a goal that we lost sight of what is important and true about ourselves and other people.  We get selfish about things we don't need -- about things that actually may do more harm than good to us and to the people around us.  Fear convinces us otherwise.

Here it is, as redundant as it may seem by this point: There is enough.  Whatever it is, there is enough.  We don't always see clearly how to distribute it wisely and healthily, but there is enough.  Enough land, enough water, enough fuel, enough food, enough love, enough power, enough respect, enough time.  We live in abundance when we are willing to recognize it.

This isn't to say that ambition is bad, just that the target of our ambition is often misguided.  Let us be ambitious and creative in how we can provide clean drinking water to the world, or in how we can ensure justice for all people, or any number of noble goals.  There is a place for ambition, and it can power our creativity to have a profound impact on the world.  It's the potential selfishness of our goals that warrants examination.   When our ambition justifies hurting other people for the sake of our own personal gain, we have stepped out of alignment with our deepest selves.  That's the part that is based on some kind of self-deception.

In reality, it's safe for us to acknowledge the value of other people, for us to listen to ideas that came from other people's minds, for us to respect beliefs that are different from our own.  It's safe for us to peel back the armor of fear and recognize our worth as human beings is exactly equal to everyone else's.  Our value is not based on political title or bank account or education or square footage or how much blood we have shed or what kind of car we drive.  We all possess a deep awareness of this truth that surpasses petty fears.  We all possess divine beauty and creativity.  We all have the capacity to inspire and be inspired.  We are all capable of listening and we are all capable of accepting other people's beliefs without feeling somehow threatened.

It may seem that we have a long way to go before we create a world that embraces the value of every person, but the process of creating that world has already begun.  It is up to each of us to choose how we will be in our own lives.  We don't have to be heroic.  We just have to determine how we will dismantle our own fears and create our own meaningful lives.  When we act in accord with the truth, beauty, and creativity within us, we cannot act out of selfish ambition.  When we choose to acknowledge the value of every person, we will find ways within our means to express that truth.  As Ghandi said, "If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change.  As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him.  ... We need not wait to see what others do."