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.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Mark 7:24-37: When Prejudice Gets in the Way of Values
People often concoct a pleasingly dishonest image of those they admire. We often have a hard time thinking of our heroes or idols as flawed. So, when Jesus comes off as a bit of a bigot in Mark 7:24-30, it may be tempting to explain it away, but defending Jesus here might miss a bigger spiritual truth.
Here is the story, in a nutshell: The character of Jesus wants to have some time to himself, and instead he is accosted by a foreign woman -- a non-Jew who has heard of him. This woman begs Jesus to heal her daughter; the woman believes she is possessed by an evil spirit. Jesus dismisses her, calling her a dog, compared to the more valuable children of Israel. Then the woman does something rather impressive; she stands up to Jesus and challenges his prejudice. Jesus acquiesces, heals her daughter, and sends the woman home.
People wishing to protect an impression of Jesus as a sacred or holy figure have interpreted this exchange in a variety of ways. Maybe Jesus was just testing the woman, thus people must be persistent in begging God for what they want. It is as if to say that you have to want something badly enough to be nuisance in order for God to pay attention to you. There is actually another parable that supports this idea. The version of this story that is told in the gospel of Matthew, however paints Jesus in an even worse light. He ignores the woman at first, and then makes the interpretation of his metaphor about throwing children's food to dogs very clear. She doesn't deserve his help because she's not Jewish.
Recognizing that this exchange may never have happened, or that it may have transpired differently than gospel authors preserved it, the best means of extracting something useful from the story is to take it at face value. There is no way for any person to even confirm the existence of the Jesus depicted in the gospel narratives, so it would be rather presumptuous to assume to know the thoughts of a person from another culture and another time. While it may say something embarrassing about human nature, it is better to be honest than to protect a character who doesn't need protecting.
Try as we might, we are not color-blind or culture-blind. We make judgments about people, whether we want to or not. We assume things based on appearances, and we often act based on our assumptions. We have to. There is no way that we could ever have all of the information necessary to make a completely informed decision, much less know everything about another human being's character, beliefs, tendencies, desires, weaknesses, and strengths. We have to operate on assumptions to a certain extent. Being aware that we are making assumptions, however, can be helpful.
Like the character of Jesus in this story with the Phoenician woman, we are prone to taking one look at people and deciding whether we want to have anything to do with them. To be blunt, we often assess in a split second whether or not another person has any value to us. A lot of folks, we may write off as dogs not worthy of any meaningful attention. Some of us may write off people who are from different cultures, who look different from us, who have different income brackets or different lifestyles -- we may write people off for things we invent about them with no concrete information.
Sometimes people will challenge us, like the Phoenician woman challenged Jesus in the story. They may challenge us directly, or we may be challenged by something a person says or does that flies in the face of our assumptions. When that happens, we have an opportunity to rethink, to tap into our actual values and guiding principles, and to shift our behavior into alignment if necessary.
Sometimes, though, we have to challenge ourselves. People may not have the opportunity to challenge our assumptions, and even when we do give people that opportunity, we often make it difficult for them. Once we have made up our minds, we like to stay rooted. So, if we want to be really sharp about this, we have to learn to challenge ourselves. When we notice our assumptions and judgments and prejudices getting in the way of who we actually want to be in the world -- drowning out our actual values and deep guiding principles -- we have the option of changing. We can choose to allow deeper truths to inform our actions rather than allowing our assumptions, prejudices, and fears to hog to driver's seat.
We will sometimes be wrong. Sometimes, people will live up to our worst assumptions about them, even when we are trying to let go of those assumptions. The question is whether we want to be the kind of people who assume the worst about people or whether we believe in something more important than that. If we believe that all people have value, for instance, we have a choice about whether we look for that value in people or whether we look for reasons to dismiss them as mangy mutts that don't deserve our attention. We can actually have a greater positive impact in other people's lives and on the world we share when we choose to truly see people as human beings with undeniable worth and dignity -- and when we do that, we also become better embodiments of our own dignity and worth.
Here is the story, in a nutshell: The character of Jesus wants to have some time to himself, and instead he is accosted by a foreign woman -- a non-Jew who has heard of him. This woman begs Jesus to heal her daughter; the woman believes she is possessed by an evil spirit. Jesus dismisses her, calling her a dog, compared to the more valuable children of Israel. Then the woman does something rather impressive; she stands up to Jesus and challenges his prejudice. Jesus acquiesces, heals her daughter, and sends the woman home.
People wishing to protect an impression of Jesus as a sacred or holy figure have interpreted this exchange in a variety of ways. Maybe Jesus was just testing the woman, thus people must be persistent in begging God for what they want. It is as if to say that you have to want something badly enough to be nuisance in order for God to pay attention to you. There is actually another parable that supports this idea. The version of this story that is told in the gospel of Matthew, however paints Jesus in an even worse light. He ignores the woman at first, and then makes the interpretation of his metaphor about throwing children's food to dogs very clear. She doesn't deserve his help because she's not Jewish.
Recognizing that this exchange may never have happened, or that it may have transpired differently than gospel authors preserved it, the best means of extracting something useful from the story is to take it at face value. There is no way for any person to even confirm the existence of the Jesus depicted in the gospel narratives, so it would be rather presumptuous to assume to know the thoughts of a person from another culture and another time. While it may say something embarrassing about human nature, it is better to be honest than to protect a character who doesn't need protecting.
Try as we might, we are not color-blind or culture-blind. We make judgments about people, whether we want to or not. We assume things based on appearances, and we often act based on our assumptions. We have to. There is no way that we could ever have all of the information necessary to make a completely informed decision, much less know everything about another human being's character, beliefs, tendencies, desires, weaknesses, and strengths. We have to operate on assumptions to a certain extent. Being aware that we are making assumptions, however, can be helpful.
Like the character of Jesus in this story with the Phoenician woman, we are prone to taking one look at people and deciding whether we want to have anything to do with them. To be blunt, we often assess in a split second whether or not another person has any value to us. A lot of folks, we may write off as dogs not worthy of any meaningful attention. Some of us may write off people who are from different cultures, who look different from us, who have different income brackets or different lifestyles -- we may write people off for things we invent about them with no concrete information.
Sometimes people will challenge us, like the Phoenician woman challenged Jesus in the story. They may challenge us directly, or we may be challenged by something a person says or does that flies in the face of our assumptions. When that happens, we have an opportunity to rethink, to tap into our actual values and guiding principles, and to shift our behavior into alignment if necessary.
Sometimes, though, we have to challenge ourselves. People may not have the opportunity to challenge our assumptions, and even when we do give people that opportunity, we often make it difficult for them. Once we have made up our minds, we like to stay rooted. So, if we want to be really sharp about this, we have to learn to challenge ourselves. When we notice our assumptions and judgments and prejudices getting in the way of who we actually want to be in the world -- drowning out our actual values and deep guiding principles -- we have the option of changing. We can choose to allow deeper truths to inform our actions rather than allowing our assumptions, prejudices, and fears to hog to driver's seat.
We will sometimes be wrong. Sometimes, people will live up to our worst assumptions about them, even when we are trying to let go of those assumptions. The question is whether we want to be the kind of people who assume the worst about people or whether we believe in something more important than that. If we believe that all people have value, for instance, we have a choice about whether we look for that value in people or whether we look for reasons to dismiss them as mangy mutts that don't deserve our attention. We can actually have a greater positive impact in other people's lives and on the world we share when we choose to truly see people as human beings with undeniable worth and dignity -- and when we do that, we also become better embodiments of our own dignity and worth.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
2 Chronicles 26: Entitlement, Fear of Irrelevance, and Spiritual Leprosy
I am fairly talented at a few things. Yet, when I see a real expert doing something impressive -- something that person has most likely practiced doing for thousands and thousands of hours -- there are times when I think, "I wish I could do that." Maybe that's indicative of typical human dissatisfaction, or maybe it's based on some imagined system in which some areas of expertise are more valuable than others. Perhaps we sometimes devalue those things that come easily to us, or those things that are expected of us, and convince ourselves that we need to diversify, expand our areas of competence, continually become more. The implication is that we are not enough -- that, whatever we are able to do today, we are on the brink of being irrelevant.
Consider 2 Kings 15, in which the historian runs through a series of rulers of Judah and Israel spanning about 50 years in one rapid fire chapter. The first of these is Azariah, or Uzziah, who gets a much lengthier treatment by the Chronicler in 2 Chronicles 25. The Hebrew scriptures claim that Uzziah was king of Judah for 52 years, but it may have been closer to 40 years. Historians often have a difficult time making biblical chronology line up with what is known about actual history. All told, he was a pretty good ruler -- until (according to the story) being king wasn't enough.
Uzziah saw that people were cared for in Judah, maintaining the country with a sense of justice and integrity. He brought a few neighboring nations under Judah's control through military force, which brought in more resources in the form of taxes from those conquered peoples, and Uzziah used Judah's resources to build protective towers for his people and to provide cisterns for vinedressers and farmers. Then, one day, at the height of his strength, he decided that he would do the job of the priests, and (again, according to the story) was struck with leprosy that lasted the rest of his life. Due to the stigma against leprosy at the time, he was ostracized from his people.
Maybe Uzziah was acting out of a sense of entitlement. Maybe he thought, "I'm the king; I can do whatever I want." Or maybe he believed at some level that he was irrelevant. It seems far-fetched, given everything that he accomplished for his nation, but some of the most powerful people develop unexpected self-esteem issues. Whatever his motivation, Uzziah's actions robbed himself of the satisfaction of ruling Judah, and it robbed the people he served of his competent leadership. In fact, looking ahead to the brief account of Jotham (Uzziah's son) in 2 Chronicles 27, Jotham was an upstanding fellow, but he didn't have much moral or ethical influence over the people he ruled. When Uzziah made a misstep, it affected a lot of people.
Some would say that this is true of all leaders -- that whatever a leader does has an impact on a lot of other people. I would say that this is true of everyone. We just notice it more in the lives of more visible people. None of us is irrelevant, and as long as we are connected to other people, we cannot become irrelevant. A society does not thrive because it is comprised of individuals who can do everything equally well. A society thrives because many people who have individual skills and talents are meaningfully connected to one another. Forging deeper connections with people is more beneficial than entertaining fears of irrelevance.
At the same time, we are also in danger of believing that we are entitled to special treatment. We don't like thinking that we may be slighted or cheated out of some opportunity or privilege. Uzziah may have thought that he could do things that other people shouldn't be allowed to do, just because he was king. Some people today think that they deserve special treatment for all sorts of reasons. Others think that their children deserve special treatment, which is a sort of entitlement by proxy, I suppose. Some people are powerful or persuasive enough to benefit from their sense of entitlement. This might even trigger a sense of entitlement in other people -- people who think that they are suffering an injustice because they missed out on some opportunity or privilege. For some reason, we can all fall prey to a belief that we deserve more than we have.
A society cannot support such attitudes indefinitely, though. At some point, we must recognize our own abundance and strive for equity on a larger scale rather than feed our individual sense of entitlement. When we cry, "It's not fair!" about a social injustice, it carries a little more weight than when we are commenting on the circumstances of our own lives. One of the essential ingredients to a commendable society in the Hebrew scriptures is justice, which means that all people are treated equally. Ideally, this even meant that debts should be forgiven after a certain amount of time and that the people of Judah should not keep fellow Jews as slaves. Judah didn't live up to this ideal in practical reality, but throughout the prophets there is a cry for justice and equity. This did not mean that everyone looked out for themselves and defended their own personal entitlement to equal treatment; it meant that people were supposed to look out for one another. The intention was that every individual would be intentional about treating people with equity and compassion.
We are not likely to be stricken with leprosy, but we can suffer a kind of spiritual leprosy -- a weakening of our sense of self and our relationships with other people that can even be contagious. There are some real negative consequences to constantly fighting irrelevancy or defending what we think we deserve. We will always see people who are highly capable in ways that we are not. We will always be able to find some way in which somebody "got away with" something or received some opportunity or privilege that we envy. Being driven by fear or a sense of entitlement will only yield more frustration and anger for us, though. Looking around in our lives for ways in which we can bring equity and compassion forward for others not only engages us in creatively using our unique capabilities in highly relevant ways, but it has the potential to transform the lives of other people. This, in turn, can ultimately lead to a more equitable society, which benefits everyone.
At the core of every person is a deep awareness of truth, an undeniable beauty, and a phenomenal reserve of creativity. No person can truly become irrelevant. At the same time, no person truly deserves more than any other person. When we recognize the inherent value of ourselves and of every person around us, we can engage our creativity in profoundly satisfying and meaningful ways. We can create something that can never be built from fears about ourselves or a preoccupation with what we think we deserve.
What are you building?
Consider 2 Kings 15, in which the historian runs through a series of rulers of Judah and Israel spanning about 50 years in one rapid fire chapter. The first of these is Azariah, or Uzziah, who gets a much lengthier treatment by the Chronicler in 2 Chronicles 25. The Hebrew scriptures claim that Uzziah was king of Judah for 52 years, but it may have been closer to 40 years. Historians often have a difficult time making biblical chronology line up with what is known about actual history. All told, he was a pretty good ruler -- until (according to the story) being king wasn't enough.
Uzziah saw that people were cared for in Judah, maintaining the country with a sense of justice and integrity. He brought a few neighboring nations under Judah's control through military force, which brought in more resources in the form of taxes from those conquered peoples, and Uzziah used Judah's resources to build protective towers for his people and to provide cisterns for vinedressers and farmers. Then, one day, at the height of his strength, he decided that he would do the job of the priests, and (again, according to the story) was struck with leprosy that lasted the rest of his life. Due to the stigma against leprosy at the time, he was ostracized from his people.
Maybe Uzziah was acting out of a sense of entitlement. Maybe he thought, "I'm the king; I can do whatever I want." Or maybe he believed at some level that he was irrelevant. It seems far-fetched, given everything that he accomplished for his nation, but some of the most powerful people develop unexpected self-esteem issues. Whatever his motivation, Uzziah's actions robbed himself of the satisfaction of ruling Judah, and it robbed the people he served of his competent leadership. In fact, looking ahead to the brief account of Jotham (Uzziah's son) in 2 Chronicles 27, Jotham was an upstanding fellow, but he didn't have much moral or ethical influence over the people he ruled. When Uzziah made a misstep, it affected a lot of people.
Some would say that this is true of all leaders -- that whatever a leader does has an impact on a lot of other people. I would say that this is true of everyone. We just notice it more in the lives of more visible people. None of us is irrelevant, and as long as we are connected to other people, we cannot become irrelevant. A society does not thrive because it is comprised of individuals who can do everything equally well. A society thrives because many people who have individual skills and talents are meaningfully connected to one another. Forging deeper connections with people is more beneficial than entertaining fears of irrelevance.
At the same time, we are also in danger of believing that we are entitled to special treatment. We don't like thinking that we may be slighted or cheated out of some opportunity or privilege. Uzziah may have thought that he could do things that other people shouldn't be allowed to do, just because he was king. Some people today think that they deserve special treatment for all sorts of reasons. Others think that their children deserve special treatment, which is a sort of entitlement by proxy, I suppose. Some people are powerful or persuasive enough to benefit from their sense of entitlement. This might even trigger a sense of entitlement in other people -- people who think that they are suffering an injustice because they missed out on some opportunity or privilege. For some reason, we can all fall prey to a belief that we deserve more than we have.
A society cannot support such attitudes indefinitely, though. At some point, we must recognize our own abundance and strive for equity on a larger scale rather than feed our individual sense of entitlement. When we cry, "It's not fair!" about a social injustice, it carries a little more weight than when we are commenting on the circumstances of our own lives. One of the essential ingredients to a commendable society in the Hebrew scriptures is justice, which means that all people are treated equally. Ideally, this even meant that debts should be forgiven after a certain amount of time and that the people of Judah should not keep fellow Jews as slaves. Judah didn't live up to this ideal in practical reality, but throughout the prophets there is a cry for justice and equity. This did not mean that everyone looked out for themselves and defended their own personal entitlement to equal treatment; it meant that people were supposed to look out for one another. The intention was that every individual would be intentional about treating people with equity and compassion.
We are not likely to be stricken with leprosy, but we can suffer a kind of spiritual leprosy -- a weakening of our sense of self and our relationships with other people that can even be contagious. There are some real negative consequences to constantly fighting irrelevancy or defending what we think we deserve. We will always see people who are highly capable in ways that we are not. We will always be able to find some way in which somebody "got away with" something or received some opportunity or privilege that we envy. Being driven by fear or a sense of entitlement will only yield more frustration and anger for us, though. Looking around in our lives for ways in which we can bring equity and compassion forward for others not only engages us in creatively using our unique capabilities in highly relevant ways, but it has the potential to transform the lives of other people. This, in turn, can ultimately lead to a more equitable society, which benefits everyone.
At the core of every person is a deep awareness of truth, an undeniable beauty, and a phenomenal reserve of creativity. No person can truly become irrelevant. At the same time, no person truly deserves more than any other person. When we recognize the inherent value of ourselves and of every person around us, we can engage our creativity in profoundly satisfying and meaningful ways. We can create something that can never be built from fears about ourselves or a preoccupation with what we think we deserve.
What are you building?
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Mark 7:1-23: Giving Up Righteousness in Favor of Connection
Returning to the gospel narrative of Mark, we find the character of Jesus confronted by his caricaturish nemeses, "the Pharisees and teachers of the law." As one would expect, Jesus not only repels their accusation, but turns their words and behavior back on them and sends them away soundly rebuked. The Pharisees in first century Judaism were something of a political party, religious sect, and social movement. They were often in conflict with the Sadducees, who were more aristocratic, largely controlled activities at the temple, and were cooperative with the Roman government. Although neither sect represented a majority of Jewish people, the Pharisees were more connected to the interpretation of Jewish spirituality in everyday life, and were thus more connected to the people than the elite Sadducees. After the destruction of the temple in 70 CE, it was the thinking of the Pharisees that most contributed to Rabbinic Judaism, which was the basis for most modern iterations of Judaism.
In the particular episode reflected in Mark 7:1-23, the Pharisees are challenging Jesus based on their understanding of purity laws. Through highly ritualized daily practices, the Pharisees kept their spiritual identities at the forefront of their thought, infusing all that they did with spiritual meaning. That was the idea, at least. Unfortunately, as the author of Mark points out, living a highly stylized life can leave something to be desired in terms of human value and ethics. The Pharisees advocated allowing people to withhold wealth and possessions from needy family members if that wealth was dedicated to the temple. It was a loophole that allowed people to excuse themselves from taking care of their families, and also allowed the church to accumulate wealth when those people died. In the meantime, people kept enjoying the "dedicated" resources. It was a system that fed into people's greed, which is just a specific kind of fear.
When the Pharisees challenged Jesus based on the fact that he didn't engage in all of the ceremonial behaviors they advocated, he levied this matter of Corban against them to demonstrate their hypocrisy. This was just one facet of a larger picture, however. Ultimately, the author of Mark suggests that the entire worldview of the Pharisees was skewed. Living in accordance to a personal code of purity does nothing to connect one to other people or to oneself. There are no bonus points in life for being borderline obsessive-compulsive about hand-washing. What actually matters is what one does with one's time and energy.
Brought into focus for the twenty-first century, the author of Mark is saying that it doesn't matter if you go to church, contribute to charities, pray before your meals, put the right bumper stickers on your car, read a devotional every morning, or engage in any other "spiritual" behaviors that ultimately might just make you feel good about yourself. What matters is what we do in the world, how we treat the people around us, what kind of a difference we make in other people's lives -- our fruit. All of the spiritual disciplines or holy habits that people might engage in can be fertilizer, but what matters most is what we produce in the practical realities of our lives. If we don't bear any meaningful fruit, all we've really got is a ton of fertilizer.
So, rather than pride ourselves in how well-behaved we are or how well we have colored inside the lines of our lives, our focus could be on how we respond to the opportunities we have to connect with other people and make a difference in the world -- even if that difference only seems to directly impact one other person. Helping one person's day go more smoothly might actually have a greater ripple effect than we will ever realize. But if we go through our lives willing to help one person's day go more smoothly, we are going to wind up having a positive impact on more than one person.
Being connected to ourselves is important too; we need time for introspection and we operate best when we are aware of our deep guiding principles. Those things are empty, however, if they never feed into an outward expression of the kind of people we most want to be in the world. We have the potential to create a world that is characterized by justice, equity, and compassion. It just requires being intentional about what we do, and perhaps shifting our focus away from being righteous and toward being connected.
In the particular episode reflected in Mark 7:1-23, the Pharisees are challenging Jesus based on their understanding of purity laws. Through highly ritualized daily practices, the Pharisees kept their spiritual identities at the forefront of their thought, infusing all that they did with spiritual meaning. That was the idea, at least. Unfortunately, as the author of Mark points out, living a highly stylized life can leave something to be desired in terms of human value and ethics. The Pharisees advocated allowing people to withhold wealth and possessions from needy family members if that wealth was dedicated to the temple. It was a loophole that allowed people to excuse themselves from taking care of their families, and also allowed the church to accumulate wealth when those people died. In the meantime, people kept enjoying the "dedicated" resources. It was a system that fed into people's greed, which is just a specific kind of fear.
When the Pharisees challenged Jesus based on the fact that he didn't engage in all of the ceremonial behaviors they advocated, he levied this matter of Corban against them to demonstrate their hypocrisy. This was just one facet of a larger picture, however. Ultimately, the author of Mark suggests that the entire worldview of the Pharisees was skewed. Living in accordance to a personal code of purity does nothing to connect one to other people or to oneself. There are no bonus points in life for being borderline obsessive-compulsive about hand-washing. What actually matters is what one does with one's time and energy.
Brought into focus for the twenty-first century, the author of Mark is saying that it doesn't matter if you go to church, contribute to charities, pray before your meals, put the right bumper stickers on your car, read a devotional every morning, or engage in any other "spiritual" behaviors that ultimately might just make you feel good about yourself. What matters is what we do in the world, how we treat the people around us, what kind of a difference we make in other people's lives -- our fruit. All of the spiritual disciplines or holy habits that people might engage in can be fertilizer, but what matters most is what we produce in the practical realities of our lives. If we don't bear any meaningful fruit, all we've really got is a ton of fertilizer.
So, rather than pride ourselves in how well-behaved we are or how well we have colored inside the lines of our lives, our focus could be on how we respond to the opportunities we have to connect with other people and make a difference in the world -- even if that difference only seems to directly impact one other person. Helping one person's day go more smoothly might actually have a greater ripple effect than we will ever realize. But if we go through our lives willing to help one person's day go more smoothly, we are going to wind up having a positive impact on more than one person.
Being connected to ourselves is important too; we need time for introspection and we operate best when we are aware of our deep guiding principles. Those things are empty, however, if they never feed into an outward expression of the kind of people we most want to be in the world. We have the potential to create a world that is characterized by justice, equity, and compassion. It just requires being intentional about what we do, and perhaps shifting our focus away from being righteous and toward being connected.
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.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Amos: Challenging a Sense of Entitlement and Advocating a Just Society
Of all of the books in the Bible, Amos is perhaps one of the best examples of a teaching that remains relevant to current Western culture, even though it was written in a completely different social, political, and intellectual context. Many times, assertions about the Bible's relevance are used to justify one's own behavior and to pronounce judgment on the behavior of other people, and those who make assertions about the Bible's timeless relevance must necessarily choose some parts to leave out of that assessment. Amos should not be one of those ignored books, even though the message of this prophet may be difficult for some people to accept.
Amos lived at a time when the Israelites existed in a divided society. There were some people who were doing very well -- financially well off, politically influential, religiously pious -- and there was the vast majority of people, who were impoverished and largely ignored. The wealthy lived under the belief that their possessions and influence were rewards for living pious lives, and they were characterized by patriotism and personal pride. They believed that they were entitled to their wealth and circumstances, and they constructed a worldview that justified ignoring, oppressing, or at least looking down upon the vast majority of people. Amos saw this system as unjust, and he saw the state religion as excusing and promoting those inherent injustices. His message to the people of his day was that religious practices mean nothing if they do not inspire people to lead lives of justice and respect toward others. To be clear, "justice" in this sense does not mean that people who have done something wrong will pay for their crimes; "justice" means that people have equal treatment under the law -- that some people in a society are not made to suffer so that others can be comfortable.
The short book of Amos can be summed up with just a few essential points. First, he chastises people not to long for the Day of the Lord, what some people today still talk about in terms of a "rapture" or a "second coming." Amos suggests that those who long for the End of Days do so out of ignorance and an inflated sense of self-importance. Instead, the prophet urges people to care for one another, to stop fearfully hoarding wealth and power at the expense of others, and to actually build a society of equity and fairness. It was perhaps easy for ancient people, as it is for some people today, to place all hope in a supernatural event -- some final accounting that would bring impartial justice and peace beyond human control. Amos says that this is foolish. For Amos, a just and equitable society established and sustained by human beings is not only possible, it is expected. Although he didn't phrase it this way, Amos envisioned a society that reflected the guiding principle that all people have innate value -- or at least that all Jews have innate value. Finally, Amos points to the hardships and challenges that the people have faced as disciplinary lessons that have gone unacknowledged. The entire society has suffered because of the system of injustice and unrighteousness, and yet those who had the power to change things kept heading in the same direction, oblivious. Eventually, Amos threatens, the society will be destroyed because of its inherent injustice and greed.
In American society today, there are some who have confused patriotic fervor with religious piety, and there are some who believe that God rewards religious displays with wealth and power. Some people think that they are entitled to the possessions and the influence they have because of their spiritual practices, and based on that claim, there are obviously others who do not deserve similar wealth or influence. Is there injustice in American society as there was in the time of Amos? Are there any who suffer so that others may succeed? Are there people who brag about their own faithfulness while ignoring or insulting people who have less? Are there people who believe that it is more important to protect what they have than it is to share with those less fortunate?
It's easy for all of us to slip into a sense of entitlement from time to time. We may even want justice, but we often don't want it to cost us anything personally. The kind of society Amos envisioned requires something more. Some of us may even hear the noble voice of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reciting the words of Amos 5:24, "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." Like Amos, Dr. King envisioned a society based on justice -- a culture that supports doing that which acknowledges the human dignity of all people, not because it is profitable or required by law, but simply because it is the right way to treat people. Like Amos, Dr. King knew that building such a society required some hard work.
As a society and as a global community, we have choices about how we view and treat one another. We have choices about the level of social stratification we will support. We have choices about what sort of a difference we will make. If we act out of a sense of entitlement and step on other people in order to reach higher for ourselves, if we look down upon those who have less and assume that those who have less obviously deserve less, we can feed an unjust system as it spirals into self-destruction. If we place a higher priority on justice, equity, and compassion, we might establish a more sustainable society built on the fact that no one truly deserves to be oppressed and no one truly deserves to be an oppressor. It may be difficult to set aside personal comfort or the belief that we have certain entitlements over and above other people. The question is: Is it worth it? Is a better society -- a better world -- worth us giving up a bit of our fear-driven delineations between who is worthy and who is unworthy?
Although Amos does tend to use shame as a tool, there is no reason to spend time feeling guilty or ashamed about our circumstances. Even though we are not entitled to live the lives we have, and even though we don't necessarily deserve any particular quality of life, there is also not a lot of be gained by being ashamed of what we have. It's more a matter of what we do with what we have. For myself, I want to strive first and foremost to see the inherent value in every person. I want to contribute to a society that thrives because people realize that we live in abundance, that personal comfort and convenience are luxuries and not entitlements, and that we all need one another. I want to contribute to a society in which people do not give credence to self-centered, reward-based, prideful religious practices, but instead use spiritual practices as tools to grow as individuals and communities who love, respect, and honor one another. As I read Amos, it seems that this is the kind of society he hoped for. Perhaps the time has come to build it in earnest.
Amos lived at a time when the Israelites existed in a divided society. There were some people who were doing very well -- financially well off, politically influential, religiously pious -- and there was the vast majority of people, who were impoverished and largely ignored. The wealthy lived under the belief that their possessions and influence were rewards for living pious lives, and they were characterized by patriotism and personal pride. They believed that they were entitled to their wealth and circumstances, and they constructed a worldview that justified ignoring, oppressing, or at least looking down upon the vast majority of people. Amos saw this system as unjust, and he saw the state religion as excusing and promoting those inherent injustices. His message to the people of his day was that religious practices mean nothing if they do not inspire people to lead lives of justice and respect toward others. To be clear, "justice" in this sense does not mean that people who have done something wrong will pay for their crimes; "justice" means that people have equal treatment under the law -- that some people in a society are not made to suffer so that others can be comfortable.
The short book of Amos can be summed up with just a few essential points. First, he chastises people not to long for the Day of the Lord, what some people today still talk about in terms of a "rapture" or a "second coming." Amos suggests that those who long for the End of Days do so out of ignorance and an inflated sense of self-importance. Instead, the prophet urges people to care for one another, to stop fearfully hoarding wealth and power at the expense of others, and to actually build a society of equity and fairness. It was perhaps easy for ancient people, as it is for some people today, to place all hope in a supernatural event -- some final accounting that would bring impartial justice and peace beyond human control. Amos says that this is foolish. For Amos, a just and equitable society established and sustained by human beings is not only possible, it is expected. Although he didn't phrase it this way, Amos envisioned a society that reflected the guiding principle that all people have innate value -- or at least that all Jews have innate value. Finally, Amos points to the hardships and challenges that the people have faced as disciplinary lessons that have gone unacknowledged. The entire society has suffered because of the system of injustice and unrighteousness, and yet those who had the power to change things kept heading in the same direction, oblivious. Eventually, Amos threatens, the society will be destroyed because of its inherent injustice and greed.
In American society today, there are some who have confused patriotic fervor with religious piety, and there are some who believe that God rewards religious displays with wealth and power. Some people think that they are entitled to the possessions and the influence they have because of their spiritual practices, and based on that claim, there are obviously others who do not deserve similar wealth or influence. Is there injustice in American society as there was in the time of Amos? Are there any who suffer so that others may succeed? Are there people who brag about their own faithfulness while ignoring or insulting people who have less? Are there people who believe that it is more important to protect what they have than it is to share with those less fortunate?
It's easy for all of us to slip into a sense of entitlement from time to time. We may even want justice, but we often don't want it to cost us anything personally. The kind of society Amos envisioned requires something more. Some of us may even hear the noble voice of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reciting the words of Amos 5:24, "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." Like Amos, Dr. King envisioned a society based on justice -- a culture that supports doing that which acknowledges the human dignity of all people, not because it is profitable or required by law, but simply because it is the right way to treat people. Like Amos, Dr. King knew that building such a society required some hard work.
As a society and as a global community, we have choices about how we view and treat one another. We have choices about the level of social stratification we will support. We have choices about what sort of a difference we will make. If we act out of a sense of entitlement and step on other people in order to reach higher for ourselves, if we look down upon those who have less and assume that those who have less obviously deserve less, we can feed an unjust system as it spirals into self-destruction. If we place a higher priority on justice, equity, and compassion, we might establish a more sustainable society built on the fact that no one truly deserves to be oppressed and no one truly deserves to be an oppressor. It may be difficult to set aside personal comfort or the belief that we have certain entitlements over and above other people. The question is: Is it worth it? Is a better society -- a better world -- worth us giving up a bit of our fear-driven delineations between who is worthy and who is unworthy?
Although Amos does tend to use shame as a tool, there is no reason to spend time feeling guilty or ashamed about our circumstances. Even though we are not entitled to live the lives we have, and even though we don't necessarily deserve any particular quality of life, there is also not a lot of be gained by being ashamed of what we have. It's more a matter of what we do with what we have. For myself, I want to strive first and foremost to see the inherent value in every person. I want to contribute to a society that thrives because people realize that we live in abundance, that personal comfort and convenience are luxuries and not entitlements, and that we all need one another. I want to contribute to a society in which people do not give credence to self-centered, reward-based, prideful religious practices, but instead use spiritual practices as tools to grow as individuals and communities who love, respect, and honor one another. As I read Amos, it seems that this is the kind of society he hoped for. Perhaps the time has come to build it in earnest.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Mark 6:30-56: A Choice between [Scarcity, Anxiety, Entitlement, and Fear] or [Abundance, Gratitude, Generosity, and Honesty]
As a rare miracle story that appears in all four canonical gospels, the "Feeding of the Five Thousand (Men)" has been interpreted in a variety of ways. Some more conservative readers take the story at face value and assume that there is nothing to figure out -- Jesus miraculously provided food for thousands of people from an amount that would have fed only a few at best. Others consider the story to reflect a "miracle of sharing" -- most people had a bit of food with them, and when they witnessed one act of generosity they brought out what food they had and shared it with one another. One thing that is clear from the story is that Jesus was unwavering in his confidence regarding abundance; the text never attributes to Jesus a fear or concern about scarcity. If there is anything to emulate in this passage, it is that propensity for abundance thinking.
What keeps us oriented toward scarcity rather than abundance? Quite a lot, actually. A significant portion of advertising attempts to induce in consumers the fear that there is not enough to go around, and that they must act quickly if they want to be safe, well-fed, and happy. Our modern mythologies about finances encourage scarcity thinking as well. We believe at a certain level that there is not enough wealth or resources to meet the needs of everyone, and therefore we must strive to get all that we can so that at least our needs will be met. Those who have money and power have a strong desire to hang on to that money and power, because they fear what might happen if they let go of it. Even though one hears tales (often meant to inspire people to spend money on something they don't need) about millionaires who have been bankrupt many times over before accumulating their current wealth, there are profound cultural differences between the "haves" and the "have-nots" -- systems that perpetuate over generations.
It would be fallacious to suggest that everyone in the world has more wealth than they need. In our individual lives, there is a reality of scarcity that cannot be overlooked if one is honest. Most of us cannot sit back and trust that all of our needs will be taken care of by someone else. If we want to be responsible people, most of us must make decisions about how we are going to spend our time and money so that our lives have integrity with our guiding principles. Budgeting time and money and other resources may seem like an exercise in scarcity thinking, but it is possible that many people in industrialized nations spend their personal resources on things that do not actually matter all that much to them -- things that do not align clearly with their personal guiding principles. So, being intentional about how we use what we do have may reveal that we have more abundance in our personal lives than we often think.
Thinking in terms of abundance and scarcity on a small scale, such as the context of a nuclear family or one individual's life, are possible indicators of the level of irrational fear being courted. When one is thinking in terms of scarcity, one is likely to be more anxious and fear-driven, thus one is more prone to reacting to circumstances rather than living out of one's authentic guiding principles. When one thinks instead in terms of abundance, one is more likely to act out of integrity and invoke an inherent creativity -- one is more in tune with what I have taken to calling "inner divinity" or one's most noble self. This does not mean pretending that one has resources that are not practical realities, and it does not mean making fanciful assumptions that something will manifest just because one wills it. Such behaviors are rejections of one's current reality. What is required for authentic abundance thinking is a humble, honest acknowledgement of current reality and commitment to a meaningful guiding principle (or set of principles). A path toward a compelling vision for a preferred future can only be charted if one is honest about one's point of origin.
As an example, we can turn back to the miracle story. Those who see the story as a "miracle of sharing" might assume that most of those thousands of people who decided to follow Jesus out into the countryside were smart enough to take a little food with them. Perhaps they were keeping their food hidden out of fear that others were less well prepared, and scarcity thinking suggests that we need to protect what we have since there isn't enough to go around. The disciples were really the only ones who demonstrated anxiety in the story, though. As they became concerned about how to feed everyone, it's possible that people in this crowd of thousands were already pulling out their food. Perhaps they were even sharing it with one another by the time the disciples made it around with the offer of a bit of fish and bread. Even those who may have been reluctant to let on that they had come prepared would eventually recognize that they could eat what they had -- and perhaps even share some with other people -- without anyone taking advantage of them. As it turned out, there was an abundance. It was thus easy for people to contribute to the twelve baskets of leftovers, since people with an abundance mindset find it much easier to practice generosity.
When we pull back from the perspective of individual lives to examine the larger state of things in our society and in our world, the fact is that we live in a state of abundance. Human beings have constructed artificial systems to consolidate money and power (out of beliefs founded on irrational fears), the result being that every person does not have equal access to the abundance of our world, but that does not change the fact that we have plenty of resources to meet the needs of everyone. Many of us have become very accustomed to satisfying a large percentage of our wants and desires in addition to our needs, however. Scarcity thinking tends to make us a bit self-absorbed from time to time, and we can develop a sense of entitlement that suggests that we are worth more than other people -- that we deserve something that other people do not deserve. We create imbalance. We create the lines that separate Us from Them. That is our current reality.
We could judge that current reality, and we could suggest that the system needs to change to satisfy our ideas about how things should be. We are limited in the extent of our control, however. We actually have control over our own decisions, and we actually have responsibility for our own thoughts and actions. So, while it can be superficially satisfying to proclaim how the world ought to be, what is potentially even more deeply satisfying is for us to make decisions in our own lives that reflect our awareness of abundance and our own meaningful guiding principles. That will most likely mean something a little bit different to everyone. Perhaps it will mean reallocating some time and money more intentionally. Perhaps it will mean being less anxious and fearful about not getting what we think we deserve. Perhaps it will mean taking a few months and going overseas to build wells or care for children on the fringes of their society. Everyone's life is different.
Most likely, even the most intentional among us will slip into scarcity thinking from time to time. We will want to protect ourselves and what we have, we will be anxious about not having enough, and we will perhaps even make claims that we deserve more than other people. Abundance thinking, however, realigns us to a deeper self, a calmer and less anxious self. Abundance thinking affirms the possibilities available to us and invokes our vast creativity. From abundance thinking, generosity and gratitude flow. My personal guiding principle is that people matter -- that every person has inherent worth and dignity. I simply cannot align with that guiding principle in my life if I think in terms of scarcity. What is your guiding principle? Is it served best by thinking in terms of scarcity or in terms of abundance?
What keeps us oriented toward scarcity rather than abundance? Quite a lot, actually. A significant portion of advertising attempts to induce in consumers the fear that there is not enough to go around, and that they must act quickly if they want to be safe, well-fed, and happy. Our modern mythologies about finances encourage scarcity thinking as well. We believe at a certain level that there is not enough wealth or resources to meet the needs of everyone, and therefore we must strive to get all that we can so that at least our needs will be met. Those who have money and power have a strong desire to hang on to that money and power, because they fear what might happen if they let go of it. Even though one hears tales (often meant to inspire people to spend money on something they don't need) about millionaires who have been bankrupt many times over before accumulating their current wealth, there are profound cultural differences between the "haves" and the "have-nots" -- systems that perpetuate over generations.
It would be fallacious to suggest that everyone in the world has more wealth than they need. In our individual lives, there is a reality of scarcity that cannot be overlooked if one is honest. Most of us cannot sit back and trust that all of our needs will be taken care of by someone else. If we want to be responsible people, most of us must make decisions about how we are going to spend our time and money so that our lives have integrity with our guiding principles. Budgeting time and money and other resources may seem like an exercise in scarcity thinking, but it is possible that many people in industrialized nations spend their personal resources on things that do not actually matter all that much to them -- things that do not align clearly with their personal guiding principles. So, being intentional about how we use what we do have may reveal that we have more abundance in our personal lives than we often think.
Thinking in terms of abundance and scarcity on a small scale, such as the context of a nuclear family or one individual's life, are possible indicators of the level of irrational fear being courted. When one is thinking in terms of scarcity, one is likely to be more anxious and fear-driven, thus one is more prone to reacting to circumstances rather than living out of one's authentic guiding principles. When one thinks instead in terms of abundance, one is more likely to act out of integrity and invoke an inherent creativity -- one is more in tune with what I have taken to calling "inner divinity" or one's most noble self. This does not mean pretending that one has resources that are not practical realities, and it does not mean making fanciful assumptions that something will manifest just because one wills it. Such behaviors are rejections of one's current reality. What is required for authentic abundance thinking is a humble, honest acknowledgement of current reality and commitment to a meaningful guiding principle (or set of principles). A path toward a compelling vision for a preferred future can only be charted if one is honest about one's point of origin.
As an example, we can turn back to the miracle story. Those who see the story as a "miracle of sharing" might assume that most of those thousands of people who decided to follow Jesus out into the countryside were smart enough to take a little food with them. Perhaps they were keeping their food hidden out of fear that others were less well prepared, and scarcity thinking suggests that we need to protect what we have since there isn't enough to go around. The disciples were really the only ones who demonstrated anxiety in the story, though. As they became concerned about how to feed everyone, it's possible that people in this crowd of thousands were already pulling out their food. Perhaps they were even sharing it with one another by the time the disciples made it around with the offer of a bit of fish and bread. Even those who may have been reluctant to let on that they had come prepared would eventually recognize that they could eat what they had -- and perhaps even share some with other people -- without anyone taking advantage of them. As it turned out, there was an abundance. It was thus easy for people to contribute to the twelve baskets of leftovers, since people with an abundance mindset find it much easier to practice generosity.
When we pull back from the perspective of individual lives to examine the larger state of things in our society and in our world, the fact is that we live in a state of abundance. Human beings have constructed artificial systems to consolidate money and power (out of beliefs founded on irrational fears), the result being that every person does not have equal access to the abundance of our world, but that does not change the fact that we have plenty of resources to meet the needs of everyone. Many of us have become very accustomed to satisfying a large percentage of our wants and desires in addition to our needs, however. Scarcity thinking tends to make us a bit self-absorbed from time to time, and we can develop a sense of entitlement that suggests that we are worth more than other people -- that we deserve something that other people do not deserve. We create imbalance. We create the lines that separate Us from Them. That is our current reality.
We could judge that current reality, and we could suggest that the system needs to change to satisfy our ideas about how things should be. We are limited in the extent of our control, however. We actually have control over our own decisions, and we actually have responsibility for our own thoughts and actions. So, while it can be superficially satisfying to proclaim how the world ought to be, what is potentially even more deeply satisfying is for us to make decisions in our own lives that reflect our awareness of abundance and our own meaningful guiding principles. That will most likely mean something a little bit different to everyone. Perhaps it will mean reallocating some time and money more intentionally. Perhaps it will mean being less anxious and fearful about not getting what we think we deserve. Perhaps it will mean taking a few months and going overseas to build wells or care for children on the fringes of their society. Everyone's life is different.
Most likely, even the most intentional among us will slip into scarcity thinking from time to time. We will want to protect ourselves and what we have, we will be anxious about not having enough, and we will perhaps even make claims that we deserve more than other people. Abundance thinking, however, realigns us to a deeper self, a calmer and less anxious self. Abundance thinking affirms the possibilities available to us and invokes our vast creativity. From abundance thinking, generosity and gratitude flow. My personal guiding principle is that people matter -- that every person has inherent worth and dignity. I simply cannot align with that guiding principle in my life if I think in terms of scarcity. What is your guiding principle? Is it served best by thinking in terms of scarcity or in terms of abundance?
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