They just couldn’t do it! The Israelites could not keep their side of God’s covenant with them. They could not live as God had intended them to live. In our journey with the Israelites from Egypt to Sinai we saw clearly that they were unable to do what God had commanded. Even after the Israelites reached the Promised Land, even after they crossed over the Jordan and settled in Canaan, they could not follow God’s commands. They persisted in worshipping other gods, they lied, they stole, and they committed adultery, just to name a few of their sins. Their stories fill the Hebrew Bible books that follow the Torah. The stories in Judges especially seem to set the cycle for the Israelites’ relationship with God. The Israelites sin, bad things happen to them, mostly the consequences of their sins, they cry out to God for help, and God, who as we know is “slow to anger and of boundless compassion,” comes to their aid and raises up a new leader for them. When they finally demand that the prophet Samuel provide a king for them, they get Saul, David, and Solomon, but they continue their sinful ways. Time and again, the prophets call the people to repentance. Through Amos, God thundered, “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies…. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” Hosea was directed by God to name his first child, lo’ammi, “not my people.” God directed Isaiah to deliver his message to “this people.” Like us, the Israelites were sinful and broken, and they continued to forsake God’s law.
The situation of the Israelites became particularly acute during the time of Jeremiah, in the sixth century B.C. The old kingdom had been divided, and the northern part had come under the rule of the Assyrians a century before. In the southern kingdom, Jeremiah had helped King Josiah institute needed reforms and bring the people’s religious life closer to what the law had laid out. However, after Josiah’s death in battle in 609, his successor Jehoiakim entered into a series of disastrous alliances. The southern kingdom was conquered by the Babylonians in 587, the temple destroyed, and the leadership of the country taken into Exile, an exile that lasted more than seventy years.
For most of his prophetic ministry, Jeremiah had been considered a traitor, since he repeatedly denounced Jehoiakim’s alliances and proclaimed that the Babylonians were acting as instruments of divine justice. He risked his life on several occasions, was thrown into a well, and was put under house arrest. Yet after the Exile – Jeremiah himself followed a group that settled in Egypt – Jeremiah had something else to offer God’s people: consolation. Most especially in chapter 31 of the book of Jeremiah, from which today’s reading comes, we hear God’s words of consolation and promise to God’s people. For a people grieving and lamenting their terrible losses, for a people who acknowledged that their own sinfulness had brought them to the dire straits in which they now found themselves, God’s words of consolation must have been good news indeed.
And what did that good news consist of? Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann reminds us that we can hear four important themes in God’s words of consolation. To begin with, it is important to remember that, strictly speaking, this is not a “new covenant.” God reminds the people that the Torah, the summary of the old covenant, the law, will still be their guide to a holy life. But God also seems to be taking a more realistic view of humanity. Israel’s history had repeatedly shown that, despite the best intentions, the people cannot by themselves fulfill God’s requirements for a holy life. Therefore God proposes a new way for them to fulfill the covenant. God will no longer impose God’s commands on them from the outside, as the earlier covenants had done. Rather, in the future, God will make it possible for the people to internalize the law, to embrace it from within, and to regard it not as a burden, but as a privilege and a blessing. Second, God restates God’s everlasting commitment to the Israelites: “I will be their God and they will be my people.” Third, God reminds God’s people that God’s relationship is offered to all the Israelites, “from the least to the greatest.” Moreover, that relationship will be as intimate as that of a marriage, the people will trust and obey God, and they will have the will to care for the poor and needy. Finally, God’s recommitment to God’s covenant with the Jews does not arise out of repentance or conversion on Israel’s part. It is God’s unilateral action, and it is God’s choice and desire to “forgive their iniquity and remember their sins no more.”
By God’s mercy and grace, God’s words of consolation to the exiled Jews are also words of consolation for us. At this point in Lent, we too need words of consolation. As we look at ourselves honestly, as we confront our own sins, as we come closer to Jerusalem and Jesus’ death there, perhaps we fear that God has abandoned us because of our sins. Perhaps we are in exile, perhaps we have stayed away from the church, or neglected the good works that God has given us to do. Perhaps we are estranged from family members or friends. Perhaps we have been unable to forgive those who have wronged us. Perhaps we have a rule of life but constantly find ourselves unable to live up to it. Perhaps we turn a deaf ear to the cries of those around us, or we forget that we too have promised to “strive for justice and peace among all people.” We too need consolation. We too need to hear again God’s unilateral offer of forgiveness and God’s promise that God will enable all of us to know God more intimately. “The days are surely coming,” says Jeremiah. My brothers and sisters, we need to hear those words too.
Yes, the covenant that God has promised to us through the words of Jeremiah continues to stir us, continues to offer hope to all of us weak, sinful, and broken human beings, continues to offer us a vision of a renewed humanity. Jesus too offered us that vision. Jesus too offered us a “new covenant,” sealed in his death and resurrection. Even so, Brueggemann cautions us Christians against any sort of supersessionism, any belief that suggests that the covenant God articulated with the Jews in Jeremiah 31 has been nullified, superseded or made obsolete by Jesus. Make no mistake: Scripture, the New Testament included, makes clear that God’s covenant with the Jews stands forever. God has not revoked is to enable all the rest of us to be grafted on to Israel. In Jesus, God has spoken God’s covenant to all of us, to Christians, and ultimately to all of humanity. All of us are now included in God’s never-ending covenant. In Jesus the Jew, who became Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Christ, God has drawn all of God’s people into a covenant with God and with each other that stands forever. As we look at the enmity and conflicts in our world, as we grieve with those Jews who are still the targets of hatred, as we look at the distrust and lack of cooperation among the members of the Body of Christ, as we look at the conflicts and distrust even within our own church, do we not hear good news in this promise? God’s condemnation of our enmities, of our distrust of each other, of our sinfulness is not God’s last word to us. God still offers us the hope of forgiveness, renewed relationship, and unity with all of God’s people.
As we look toward Jerusalem, as we draw near to the end of our long Lenten journey, we are also filled with anticipation. Palm Sunday is coming, and we look forward to joining the people of Jerusalem as they welcome the coming of their King. We shiver a little as we anticipate the grief, gratitude, passion, and hope that come with Holy Week. Yet we know that Good Friday turns into Holy Saturday, and Holy Saturday overflows into the joy of Easter. How can we not be thankful for all of God’s promises to us, for God’s enduring love for us, and for God’s most precious gift of God’s Son?
As we turn to God in gratitude for God’s faithfulness, the words of today’s collect seem particularly apt. Hear them again: “Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.”
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Whine, Whine, Complain
Whine, whine, complain, complain. Poor Moses was tearing out what little hair he had left. All the Israelites had done since leaving Egypt had been to whine and complain. God may have graciously rescued them from slavery in Egypt, from overwork, starvation, suffering, and death. But did they thank God for the great blessing of freedom? Not on your life! All they could focus on were the dangers and uncertainties of this new life. The long and seldom-read book of Numbers, the fourth book of the Torah, depicts their numerous complaints. In Numbers 11, the people’s bitter complaints bring down scorching fire on the edges of the camp, a fire that only died down when Moses prayed to the Lord. In Numbers 14, the people are already tired of the journey and berate Moses and Aaron for dragging them away from Egypt. Moses holds off God’s anger, but some of the men disobey Moses’ instructions, go into the hill country, and are promptly killed. In chapter 16 insurrection by some of the priests results in an earthquake in which many of the people lose their lives. In chapter 20, in the wilderness of Zin, the people accuse Moses of deliberately bringing them to a place without adequate water. “Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place,” they shout,” a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink?” (Num. 20:6, JPS). Following God’s command, Moses strikes a rock, and abundant water gushes out. Are the people grateful? Although their thirst is assuaged, their penchant for complaining is not quenched. As we heard in today’s reading, having set out from Mount Hor, they again grow impatient. This time they do the unthinkable: not only do they whine about Moses’ leadership, they complain against God. What does God do now?
The book of Numbers is an unfamiliar book. We Christians seldom read it. In the Revised Common Lectionary, this is the sole lection from Numbers that occurs in our Sunday lectionary, and that is probably because Jesus alludes to this story in the Gospel according to John. The book gets its better-known name, “Numbers,” from the two censuses that are mentioned in it, one of the first generation to leave Egypt, and one of the second generation, i.e., of the people who were to enter the Promised Land. In Hebrew it is called the book of the Wilderness, as its first half depicts all the wilderness wandering. (The second half depicts preparations for entering Canaan.) Actually, it is a composite book, uniting several different strands of traditional material. In addition to the historical narrative, a little of which we heard today, among other things, the book also contains poetry, prophecy, a victory song, prayers, blessing, lampoon, and law, both civil and religious. Like much of the rest of the Hebrew Bible, it probably received its final form sometime after the return from Exile, i.e., in the fourth century B.C.
Other than understanding Jesus’ allusion, what can we Christians glean from this strange story? Does it really help us better understand God’s nature? Have we taken another step forward in God’s covenantal relationship with us? We have seen that God promised Noah never again to destroy creation, God promised Abraham and Sarah offspring as numerous as the stars in the sky, and God promised the Israelites at Sinai to be their God forever. Although God had asked virtually nothing in return from Noah and his family, God had marked God’s covenant in Abraham’s flesh. God had laid out for the Israelites at Sinai the order and structure of a holy life. But, oh! Such a life is difficult, if not impossible for humans actually to live. The Israelites were not, nor are we, cut out for holiness! When the Israelites complained against God as well as against Moses, surely that was the last straw for God. In return, God sent literally fiery serpents, reflecting God’s deep anger, to hurt and burn the people. When they fell sick, the people finally repented of their sin and sought God’s forgiveness. At God’s command, Moses erected a bronze statue of the very thing that had hurt them. For the people simply looking at the bronze serpent was enough to cure them.
Is there a covenant here? God has not made a new, formal covenant with the Israelites as God had previously done. But isn’t there an implicit covenant here, and in all the wilderness stories? God had made good on God’s promise to deliver the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. When they whined, complained, and disobeyed God, God nevertheless forgave them and healed them of the consequences of their sin – for there are always consequences of sin, aren’t there? Even in the midst of the people’s most trivial complaints, God provided the medicine they needed to be healed from their sins. The ancient rabbinic commentators on this passage were worried that it led the people into magical behavior. Consequently, they reminded later generations of hearers of the story that in looking at the serpent, the Israelites were looking at God, not an idol. However we understand the serpent – and it was a symbol of healing in the rest of the ancient world – the message here, the implicit covenant here, is that Israel cannot become so terminally ill that God cannot heal them. God had made this promise in the first wilderness story, way back in Exodus 15, when God had answered their first complaints by telling them, “If you will heed the Lord your God diligently, doing what is upright in his sight, giving ear to his commandments and keeping all his laws, then I will not bring upon you any of the diseases that I brought upon the Egyptians, for I the Lord am your healer” (Ex. 15:26, JPS).
God repeats God’s commitment to the Israelites’ salvation and well-being here again. And, of course, as Christians, we believe that Jesus repeats that same message to Nicodemus when he tells him that “God so loved the world that he gave his only son” (John 3:16). The point is – for the Israelites for Nicodemus, and for us – that our tie to God is never broken. We may grieve God, we may provoke God, but we cannot extinguish God’s endless compassion. There is nothing we can do that will break God’s relationship with us. Indeed, sinful and broken as we are, we may break the relationship, but God will always reach out to us. After even the wisp of a prayer on our part – or even before – God graciously reaches out to us, and mercifully invites us to repent. Can we accept God’s action in our lives? Can we acknowledge who we are and accept God’s forgiveness? If we can, God has promised – and demonstrated again in the bronze serpent – that God will graciously heal us.
So here’s the good news for all of us. We may not be part of a group of ancient Israelites wandering the desert, complaining all the way. Actually, having lived in Tucson for eighteen years I have some sympathy for those ancient Jews. The wilderness of Sinai was probably not a very hospitable place. Even so, this odd story from a neglected Bible book resonates with me. Perhaps it also corresponds to your experience as people of faith. Can we see in the Israelites’ struggles some glimmer of how God is present to us in our struggles and hopes? Like the Israelites, we too are on a journey, from birth to death, from youth to age. As we travel through illness, loss, divorce, and death, our journey may be difficult, or painful, or confusing. We may make things more difficult for ourselves by our sin, by being selfish or irresponsible. Sometimes we may fail to trust God. Sometimes, like the Israelites, we grow impatient and explode into grousing and complaining. Does God abandon us to the snakes in our lives? The good news is that God never condemns us, and is always ready to save us.
The Fourth Sunday in Lent has traditionally been observed as Laetere Sunday, Laughter Sunday, or, "Lighten Up” Sunday. It is a day to lighten up on our Lenten disciplines and to pause on our journey to Jerusalem. Many churches observe the day by using pink or rose-colored paraments and vestments, by including singing and dancing in the liturgy, and even by telling jokes. Of course, the Jews have known for centuries that God has a sense of humor. And so in that spirit, I think it is right to honor God with an appropriate joke.
While going through an airport during one of his many trips, President Bush encountered a man with long hair, wearing a white robe and sandals, holding a staff. President Bush went up to the man and said, "Aren't you Moses?" The man never answered but just kept staring ahead. Again the President said, "Moses!" in a loud voice. The man just kept staring ahead, never answering the president. Soon a secret service agent came along and President Bush grabbed him and said, "Doesn't this man look like Moses to you?" The secret service agent agreed with the President. "Well," said the President, "Every time I say his name, he just keeps staring ahead and refuses to speak. Watch!" Again, the President yelled, "Moses!" and again the man stared ahead. The secret service man went up to the man in the white robe and whispered, "You look just like Moses. Are you Moses?" The man leaned over and whispered, "Yes, I am Moses. But the last time I talked to a bush, I spent forty years wandering in the desert!"
God will never break God’s ties to us. Rejoice and be glad!
The book of Numbers is an unfamiliar book. We Christians seldom read it. In the Revised Common Lectionary, this is the sole lection from Numbers that occurs in our Sunday lectionary, and that is probably because Jesus alludes to this story in the Gospel according to John. The book gets its better-known name, “Numbers,” from the two censuses that are mentioned in it, one of the first generation to leave Egypt, and one of the second generation, i.e., of the people who were to enter the Promised Land. In Hebrew it is called the book of the Wilderness, as its first half depicts all the wilderness wandering. (The second half depicts preparations for entering Canaan.) Actually, it is a composite book, uniting several different strands of traditional material. In addition to the historical narrative, a little of which we heard today, among other things, the book also contains poetry, prophecy, a victory song, prayers, blessing, lampoon, and law, both civil and religious. Like much of the rest of the Hebrew Bible, it probably received its final form sometime after the return from Exile, i.e., in the fourth century B.C.
Other than understanding Jesus’ allusion, what can we Christians glean from this strange story? Does it really help us better understand God’s nature? Have we taken another step forward in God’s covenantal relationship with us? We have seen that God promised Noah never again to destroy creation, God promised Abraham and Sarah offspring as numerous as the stars in the sky, and God promised the Israelites at Sinai to be their God forever. Although God had asked virtually nothing in return from Noah and his family, God had marked God’s covenant in Abraham’s flesh. God had laid out for the Israelites at Sinai the order and structure of a holy life. But, oh! Such a life is difficult, if not impossible for humans actually to live. The Israelites were not, nor are we, cut out for holiness! When the Israelites complained against God as well as against Moses, surely that was the last straw for God. In return, God sent literally fiery serpents, reflecting God’s deep anger, to hurt and burn the people. When they fell sick, the people finally repented of their sin and sought God’s forgiveness. At God’s command, Moses erected a bronze statue of the very thing that had hurt them. For the people simply looking at the bronze serpent was enough to cure them.
Is there a covenant here? God has not made a new, formal covenant with the Israelites as God had previously done. But isn’t there an implicit covenant here, and in all the wilderness stories? God had made good on God’s promise to deliver the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. When they whined, complained, and disobeyed God, God nevertheless forgave them and healed them of the consequences of their sin – for there are always consequences of sin, aren’t there? Even in the midst of the people’s most trivial complaints, God provided the medicine they needed to be healed from their sins. The ancient rabbinic commentators on this passage were worried that it led the people into magical behavior. Consequently, they reminded later generations of hearers of the story that in looking at the serpent, the Israelites were looking at God, not an idol. However we understand the serpent – and it was a symbol of healing in the rest of the ancient world – the message here, the implicit covenant here, is that Israel cannot become so terminally ill that God cannot heal them. God had made this promise in the first wilderness story, way back in Exodus 15, when God had answered their first complaints by telling them, “If you will heed the Lord your God diligently, doing what is upright in his sight, giving ear to his commandments and keeping all his laws, then I will not bring upon you any of the diseases that I brought upon the Egyptians, for I the Lord am your healer” (Ex. 15:26, JPS).
God repeats God’s commitment to the Israelites’ salvation and well-being here again. And, of course, as Christians, we believe that Jesus repeats that same message to Nicodemus when he tells him that “God so loved the world that he gave his only son” (John 3:16). The point is – for the Israelites for Nicodemus, and for us – that our tie to God is never broken. We may grieve God, we may provoke God, but we cannot extinguish God’s endless compassion. There is nothing we can do that will break God’s relationship with us. Indeed, sinful and broken as we are, we may break the relationship, but God will always reach out to us. After even the wisp of a prayer on our part – or even before – God graciously reaches out to us, and mercifully invites us to repent. Can we accept God’s action in our lives? Can we acknowledge who we are and accept God’s forgiveness? If we can, God has promised – and demonstrated again in the bronze serpent – that God will graciously heal us.
So here’s the good news for all of us. We may not be part of a group of ancient Israelites wandering the desert, complaining all the way. Actually, having lived in Tucson for eighteen years I have some sympathy for those ancient Jews. The wilderness of Sinai was probably not a very hospitable place. Even so, this odd story from a neglected Bible book resonates with me. Perhaps it also corresponds to your experience as people of faith. Can we see in the Israelites’ struggles some glimmer of how God is present to us in our struggles and hopes? Like the Israelites, we too are on a journey, from birth to death, from youth to age. As we travel through illness, loss, divorce, and death, our journey may be difficult, or painful, or confusing. We may make things more difficult for ourselves by our sin, by being selfish or irresponsible. Sometimes we may fail to trust God. Sometimes, like the Israelites, we grow impatient and explode into grousing and complaining. Does God abandon us to the snakes in our lives? The good news is that God never condemns us, and is always ready to save us.
The Fourth Sunday in Lent has traditionally been observed as Laetere Sunday, Laughter Sunday, or, "Lighten Up” Sunday. It is a day to lighten up on our Lenten disciplines and to pause on our journey to Jerusalem. Many churches observe the day by using pink or rose-colored paraments and vestments, by including singing and dancing in the liturgy, and even by telling jokes. Of course, the Jews have known for centuries that God has a sense of humor. And so in that spirit, I think it is right to honor God with an appropriate joke.
While going through an airport during one of his many trips, President Bush encountered a man with long hair, wearing a white robe and sandals, holding a staff. President Bush went up to the man and said, "Aren't you Moses?" The man never answered but just kept staring ahead. Again the President said, "Moses!" in a loud voice. The man just kept staring ahead, never answering the president. Soon a secret service agent came along and President Bush grabbed him and said, "Doesn't this man look like Moses to you?" The secret service agent agreed with the President. "Well," said the President, "Every time I say his name, he just keeps staring ahead and refuses to speak. Watch!" Again, the President yelled, "Moses!" and again the man stared ahead. The secret service man went up to the man in the white robe and whispered, "You look just like Moses. Are you Moses?" The man leaned over and whispered, "Yes, I am Moses. But the last time I talked to a bush, I spent forty years wandering in the desert!"
God will never break God’s ties to us. Rejoice and be glad!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
God's Gracious Gift
Perhaps he was young and foolhardy. In his first pastorate at a small church in inner-city Newark, David McKirachan bravely decided to mount a two-week Vacation Bible School.1 He decided to focus on Israel’s deliverance from Egypt and wrote the curriculum himself. Sixteen children between the ages of six and fifteen showed up, ready for all the hands-on activities the pastor had prepared for them. During the first week, they lived as if they were slaves in Egypt, doing all sorts of burdensome tasks that changed at the pastor-taskmaster’s whim. Of course, along the way they did crafts, sang songs, prayed, read the Bible, and played games. In the second week – astonishingly they all came back – the pastor walked them through the story of Moses and the Exodus – they really liked the plague of frogs and getting wet as they drowned the Egyptians in a water fight. At last they made it to Sinai. While Moses was in the cloud talking with God, the pastor asked the kids to guess what guidelines God might offer to these newly liberated slaves. After much thought and discussion, the children came up with these five rules: 1) nobody’s God but God; 2) you get to keep what belongs to you; 3) nobody gets to kill anybody else; 4) families can’t be broken up; and 5) everybody gets a day off. Are you surprised at how close the children came on their own to our Decalogue? Could it be that the words of God that Moses transmitted to the people at Sinai were not arbitrary or esoteric? Could it be that they still have relevance for us?
We have come to the next step in the evolution of God’s covenant with God’s people. In God’s covenant with Noah, God committed Godself to God’s creation, promising never again to destroy it and asking little of Noah or his family. In God’s covenant with Abraham and Sarah, God promised a son to Sarah, a multitude of descendants to them, and an ongoing commitment to all of Abraham’s children. In return God marked God’s covenant in the flesh of Abraham and his descendants by requiring that he and all succeeding males, whether born, adopted or purchased, be circumcised. Now we stand with the Israelites at the foot of Mount Sinai. In an action that would ground the history of the entire Jewish people henceforth, God has delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. As the Israelites camp at the foot of the mountain, Moses has ascended the mountain. God calls to Moses from the mountain and charges Moses to declare to the Israelites, “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now then, if you will obey me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all the peoples” (Ex. 19:4-5).
But what is that covenant, and how shall the people obey it? God graciously provides the answer. God begins at Sinai in the same way that God began God’s covenant with Abraham: by announcing God’s sovereignty over the people. “I am the Lord your God,” God tells them. God then declares Godself as the author of their deliverance from Egypt and announces to the people what the Hebrew Bible calls the Ten Words or Ten Statements to guide them in obeying God faithfully. The Ten Statements are not commandments – the English word is a mistranslation of the Hebrew. The Ten Statements are closer to categorical or constitutional law. Instead of laying down specific rules, the Ten Statements provide a road map, a basic direction, a foundation for an obedient and holy relationship with God and with our neighbors. What is more important, instead of spelling out punishments for those who miss the mark, the Ten Statements suggest to us the order and structure that a life lived in God’s presence should have.
God begins the Ten Statements by announcing God’s most fundamental expectation of the Israelites, absolute allegiance, primarily in gratitude for God’s rescue of them from Egypt. God then goes on to suggest what a right relationship with God looks like: the Israelites are to show awe for the infinite mystery of God, they are to remember that God cares passionately about them and their offspring, and they are to resist the temptation to pin God down or put God into a box – or a picture frame. They are not to try to manipulate God by willfully tossing around God’s sacred name. And because they were created in God’s image, they are to emulate God by doing something radically counter-cultural in the ancient world: they were to keep the appropriate balance between productivity and rest, by taking every seventh day as a day in which to cease from production.
There is more for the Israelites in keeping God’s covenant than maintaining a right relationship with God – hard as that may prove to be. God also expected them to maintain a right relationship within their human communities. The remaining Statements all provide safeguards for values that should undergird every healthy human society: protection for family, preservation of life, maintenance of marital fidelity, security of personal property, honesty and integrity in legal and fiduciary matters, and respect for the possessions of another. Unlike other ancient covenants, the Ten Statements provide no mention of what might happen if the Israelites disregard these expectations. If the Israelites are truly committed to God, God implies, they will strive to order their lives on these lines out of a desire to please God, not out of fear of punishment. So God’s road map addresses both theology – how we relate to God – and ethics -- how we relate to other human beings. Jesus reminded us that the two great commandments were to love God and love one’s neighbor. In doing so, Jesus was condensing the essence of the Ten Statements, reminding us that theology and ethics are inseparable. Ultimately, the Israelites – and we as their heirs – can only express their commitment to God through a life lived according to God’s ideals. They and we ultimately must show forth a “concrete performance of faith.”
Are the Ten Statements still relevant in the 21st century? You can still see them hanging in some southern courthouses. If you drive I-71 north from our diocesan conference center, they shout at you on two bill boards. But I wonder. Would they make more sense to us, if we heard them in the following way?2 1) Don’t worship other gods, especially those “who pollute the air with poisonous words that are but sounding brass.” 2) Don’t make or bow down to any graven image, including the almighty dollar, neither make capitalism into a religion. 3) Don’t take God’s name in vain, even if you want to get elected or engage in pre-emptive wars. 4) Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy by not attending sporting events at racetracks or stadiums. 5) Honor your father and mother, but think for yourself. 6) Don’t kill, even those you call “baby-killers.” 7) Don’t commit adultery, even if you sanctimoniously uphold “family values.” 8) Don’t steal, for example, by taking bribes, cheating on your taxes, operating a Ponzi scheme, manipulating stock prices, or engaging in insider trading. 9) Don’t bear false witness, including branding your opponents as traitors. And 10) don’t scheme to acquire for yourself what little charity is received by the poor, the desperate, and the needy.
Most likely, we could all find ourselves in that version of the Ten Statements. So it’s appropriate this Lent to ponder the extent to which the Ten Statements provide a road map for us. Try this exercise some time during this coming week. Sit down with the Ten Statements. The Message has particularly pithy translation of them. But the translation doesn’t matter, any will do. Think about your own life in light of the ten statements. How do the norms of the Ten Statements describe your life? Is there anything in your own life that God might be calling you to change? Is there anything in your life that is more important than your relationship with God? Have you forgotten how to find the space in your life for doing absolutely nothing, for emulating God by resting? Do you treat those around you with the care and respect that you think you deserve for yourself? Are you content with your life? Are there ways in which you can simplify your life, to have more room for attending to God? As you ponder for yourself the intent of each statement, ask God to help you deepen your commitment to God and more truly reflect your commitment in your own life.
After hearing the Ten Statements, the Israelites were so frightened that they begged God not to speak directly to them again (Exodus 20:18-21). Thereafter, Moses and the prophets mediated God’s word for the people – until the Word moved into our neighborhood and walked among us in Jesus. Thanks be to God that God continues to speak to us today, through holy people, sacraments, and Scripture. Thanks also be to God for God’s covenants, most especially for the Ten Statements, and the gracious gift of direction for our lives that enables us to come closer to the people and community that God created us to be.
1. C. David McKirachan, “Traffic Control,” Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing, 2011), 64-5.
2. Adapted from Tom Cordle, at open.salon.com/blog/tom_cordle, quoted in Synthesis, March 11, 2012
We have come to the next step in the evolution of God’s covenant with God’s people. In God’s covenant with Noah, God committed Godself to God’s creation, promising never again to destroy it and asking little of Noah or his family. In God’s covenant with Abraham and Sarah, God promised a son to Sarah, a multitude of descendants to them, and an ongoing commitment to all of Abraham’s children. In return God marked God’s covenant in the flesh of Abraham and his descendants by requiring that he and all succeeding males, whether born, adopted or purchased, be circumcised. Now we stand with the Israelites at the foot of Mount Sinai. In an action that would ground the history of the entire Jewish people henceforth, God has delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. As the Israelites camp at the foot of the mountain, Moses has ascended the mountain. God calls to Moses from the mountain and charges Moses to declare to the Israelites, “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now then, if you will obey me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all the peoples” (Ex. 19:4-5).
But what is that covenant, and how shall the people obey it? God graciously provides the answer. God begins at Sinai in the same way that God began God’s covenant with Abraham: by announcing God’s sovereignty over the people. “I am the Lord your God,” God tells them. God then declares Godself as the author of their deliverance from Egypt and announces to the people what the Hebrew Bible calls the Ten Words or Ten Statements to guide them in obeying God faithfully. The Ten Statements are not commandments – the English word is a mistranslation of the Hebrew. The Ten Statements are closer to categorical or constitutional law. Instead of laying down specific rules, the Ten Statements provide a road map, a basic direction, a foundation for an obedient and holy relationship with God and with our neighbors. What is more important, instead of spelling out punishments for those who miss the mark, the Ten Statements suggest to us the order and structure that a life lived in God’s presence should have.
God begins the Ten Statements by announcing God’s most fundamental expectation of the Israelites, absolute allegiance, primarily in gratitude for God’s rescue of them from Egypt. God then goes on to suggest what a right relationship with God looks like: the Israelites are to show awe for the infinite mystery of God, they are to remember that God cares passionately about them and their offspring, and they are to resist the temptation to pin God down or put God into a box – or a picture frame. They are not to try to manipulate God by willfully tossing around God’s sacred name. And because they were created in God’s image, they are to emulate God by doing something radically counter-cultural in the ancient world: they were to keep the appropriate balance between productivity and rest, by taking every seventh day as a day in which to cease from production.
There is more for the Israelites in keeping God’s covenant than maintaining a right relationship with God – hard as that may prove to be. God also expected them to maintain a right relationship within their human communities. The remaining Statements all provide safeguards for values that should undergird every healthy human society: protection for family, preservation of life, maintenance of marital fidelity, security of personal property, honesty and integrity in legal and fiduciary matters, and respect for the possessions of another. Unlike other ancient covenants, the Ten Statements provide no mention of what might happen if the Israelites disregard these expectations. If the Israelites are truly committed to God, God implies, they will strive to order their lives on these lines out of a desire to please God, not out of fear of punishment. So God’s road map addresses both theology – how we relate to God – and ethics -- how we relate to other human beings. Jesus reminded us that the two great commandments were to love God and love one’s neighbor. In doing so, Jesus was condensing the essence of the Ten Statements, reminding us that theology and ethics are inseparable. Ultimately, the Israelites – and we as their heirs – can only express their commitment to God through a life lived according to God’s ideals. They and we ultimately must show forth a “concrete performance of faith.”
Are the Ten Statements still relevant in the 21st century? You can still see them hanging in some southern courthouses. If you drive I-71 north from our diocesan conference center, they shout at you on two bill boards. But I wonder. Would they make more sense to us, if we heard them in the following way?2 1) Don’t worship other gods, especially those “who pollute the air with poisonous words that are but sounding brass.” 2) Don’t make or bow down to any graven image, including the almighty dollar, neither make capitalism into a religion. 3) Don’t take God’s name in vain, even if you want to get elected or engage in pre-emptive wars. 4) Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy by not attending sporting events at racetracks or stadiums. 5) Honor your father and mother, but think for yourself. 6) Don’t kill, even those you call “baby-killers.” 7) Don’t commit adultery, even if you sanctimoniously uphold “family values.” 8) Don’t steal, for example, by taking bribes, cheating on your taxes, operating a Ponzi scheme, manipulating stock prices, or engaging in insider trading. 9) Don’t bear false witness, including branding your opponents as traitors. And 10) don’t scheme to acquire for yourself what little charity is received by the poor, the desperate, and the needy.
Most likely, we could all find ourselves in that version of the Ten Statements. So it’s appropriate this Lent to ponder the extent to which the Ten Statements provide a road map for us. Try this exercise some time during this coming week. Sit down with the Ten Statements. The Message has particularly pithy translation of them. But the translation doesn’t matter, any will do. Think about your own life in light of the ten statements. How do the norms of the Ten Statements describe your life? Is there anything in your own life that God might be calling you to change? Is there anything in your life that is more important than your relationship with God? Have you forgotten how to find the space in your life for doing absolutely nothing, for emulating God by resting? Do you treat those around you with the care and respect that you think you deserve for yourself? Are you content with your life? Are there ways in which you can simplify your life, to have more room for attending to God? As you ponder for yourself the intent of each statement, ask God to help you deepen your commitment to God and more truly reflect your commitment in your own life.
After hearing the Ten Statements, the Israelites were so frightened that they begged God not to speak directly to them again (Exodus 20:18-21). Thereafter, Moses and the prophets mediated God’s word for the people – until the Word moved into our neighborhood and walked among us in Jesus. Thanks be to God that God continues to speak to us today, through holy people, sacraments, and Scripture. Thanks also be to God for God’s covenants, most especially for the Ten Statements, and the gracious gift of direction for our lives that enables us to come closer to the people and community that God created us to be.
1. C. David McKirachan, “Traffic Control,” Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing, 2011), 64-5.
2. Adapted from Tom Cordle, at open.salon.com/blog/tom_cordle, quoted in Synthesis, March 11, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Ancestor of Nations
The year was 2002. In Peterborough, Ontario, Helen McCarthy was teaching World Religions at St. Peter’s High School. Helen had invited Elizabeth Rahman, a Muslim woman who worshipped at the Masjid alSalaam, the Peace Mosque, to speak to her class. When Elizabeth arrived at the class, there were no students there. Elizabeth hadn’t realized that it was a “snow day.” However, Helen was there, so she and Elizabeth spent the class time talking with each other. They discovered that, despite the differences in their respective faith traditions, there was much that they shared. Some weeks later, Heather Pollock, a member of Beth Israel synagogue, came to the class. As she spoke, Helen realized that Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God and recognize Abraham as their common ancestor. She set up a meeting for the three of them. With great hope, Elizabeth, Heather, and Helen began to plan an Abraham Festival that would honor Abraham as a prophet in all three of their faith communities.1 It took a year of negotiating with St. Alphonsus Roman Catholic church, Helen’s parish, Beth Israel synagogue, and the Masjid al-Salaam. Finally, the first festival was held in 2003, and there has been one every year since. In addition to speakers, the festivals include authentic worship services at Jewish, Christian, and Muslim houses of worship. This year’s festival, to be held in late April, will showcase the Millennium Development goals. Eight different speakers will talk about the goals, why each one was developed, and how different faith communities can work together to achieve the goals, in the world and in the local community.
Are you surprised that Jews, Christians, and Muslims can work together? Certainly the church has a long history of anti-Semitism, and political events of the last decade have heightened fear and mistrust of Muslims in this country. As we look at the second of God’s many promises to the ancient Hebrews, perhaps we might gain, as people of faith, a new understanding of the relationship among our various faith communities. The covenant that God initiated with Abraham and Sarah takes us a step beyond the covenant that God made with Noah. You remember that in the ancient world, covenants were binding promises between two parties, with firm agreement about who was to do what, and about the consequences if one party failed to live up to the agreement. In the covenant with Noah, the agreement was essentially one-sided. God promised to “remember” Noah and to renounce forever God’s ability to destroy creation.
Now we come to the story of Abraham and Sarah. This story is from the same source and time-frame as that of Noah, i.e., it was put together by the returnees from Exile sometime in the fourth century B.C. I want to begin by focusing on two elements of this story: name and covenant. In the Hebrew Bible, names are important. One’s name is a decisive marker of identity, and a change of name, as for example, when the renamed Jacob became Israel, always marks a fundamental change within the person and in that person’s relationship with God. In today’s story, everyone receives a new name. Although the English obscures it, when God announces Godself, when God says, “I am God Almighty, walk before me and be blameless,” the Hebrew word for God Almighty, el Shaddai, occurs in the Bible here for the first time. The meaning is uncertain – it may mean “God of the mountains” – but the intent is clear. God is declaring in a new way God’s oneness and God’s new expectation that Abraham and Sarah will give their loyalty only to el Shaddai, to God Almighty, and not to any of the gods of the other ancient peoples. What is more important, God gives Abraham and Sarah new names. Notice that God doesn’t ask them if they want new names. God simply renames them. In so doing, God declares God’s sovereignty over them, and God’s power to change their destinies.
The changes in Abraham’s and Sarah’s names are part of the covenant that God establishes with them. Even though both of them are well past the time when they could expect any further descendants – Abraham had had a son by Hagar, Ishmael, but Sarah had been barren -- God takes the initiative and makes an extraordinary covenant with them. Notice that, like Noah, Abraham does not ask for anything. But God promises an “everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.” In effect, God promises to be God to Abraham, through Abraham to all Israel, through Israel to the church, and through the church to all of us. What is more important, God extends God’s covenant even beyond Israel and the church. God promises Abraham that he will be the “ancestor of a multitude of nations.” Sarah too is a full partner in this covenant. Not only will God bless her, but “she shall give rise to nations, kings of peoples shall come from her.” God has promised to be bound ultimately to all peoples, all who find their ancestry in Abraham, either by birth or by adoption.
You remember that when God promised Noah that God would never again destroy the earth, God made all the promises and asked virtually nothing of Noah. All Noah and his family had to do was to have children, not eat blood, and not murder each other. However, in the covenant with Abraham and Sarah, God raises the ante. There is a piece of the story that is missing in our lection. In those verses we hear what else God asks of Abraham besides just loyalty – hard as even that proved for the ancient Hebrews. In the verses in between the two parts of our lection, God requires Abraham, to undergo circumcision. God further requires that, on the eighth day, all the males in his family, and all the males in the generations after him, will be circumcised. In effect, God marks God’s covenant in Abraham’s flesh, binding him body and soul to his relationship with God. To be faithful to God, Abraham will now have to do more than just trust God’s promise and answer to a new name. He will have to put his own body on the line. On his face in front of el Shaddai, Abraham knows that his life has changed forever.
Abraham will have to put his own body on the line. On this second Sunday in Lent, the church bids us reflect on how our use of our own bodies reflects our relationship with God. As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “We do not head straight to Easter from the spa or the shopping mall. Instead, we are invited to spend forty days examining the nature of our own covenant with God.”2 As we join the retreat of the church, we might begin by considering our own names and identities. Just like the ancient Hebrews, we know that names are important. Although we may not realize it, much of our identity is bound up with our names, and names reveal much to others about who we are and where we have come from. As baptized Christians, we have a particular identity, one given to us in baptism. We may not have received new names at the font, but as we died and rose again with Christ, as we were sealed with the chrism, we were made “Christ’s own forever.” And so we might ask ourselves what about our lives reflects our identity as one of Christ’s own.
What is more important, we are bid to consider the nature of our covenant with God. What is important in our relationship with God? On what does it depend? What do we expect of God, and what do we think God expects of us? Do we trust our relationship with God to be life giving, or do we still fear God’s anger and condemnation? The Anglican expression of Christianity emphasizes the incarnation, i.e., we believe that what we do, either in liturgy or ministry, is ultimately more important than what we think about God. So we might also ponder how we act out in our own bodies our covenant with God. In what ways might God expect us to put our bodies on the line by taking up our own cross? Finally, we might ponder our relationship with those of other faith communities, most especially with other children of Abraham. Do we grant the inclusive nature of God’s covenant? Without discounting the differences among our faith communities – and they are significant – are we willing to see what we hold in common with Jews and Muslims? Can we respect our brothers and sisters of other faiths? Can we put our own bodies on the line in partnership with them, to help advance the Kingdom of God?
According to tradition, Abraham kept his tent open in all four directions, the more easily to share his food and water with travelers from anywhere. In that spirit, may we join hands with all those who thirst and hunger for justice, peace, and dignity.
----------------------
1. The story of the Abraham Festival is found at http://abrahamfestival.org/index.php , accessed March 2, 2012.
2. “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 55.
Are you surprised that Jews, Christians, and Muslims can work together? Certainly the church has a long history of anti-Semitism, and political events of the last decade have heightened fear and mistrust of Muslims in this country. As we look at the second of God’s many promises to the ancient Hebrews, perhaps we might gain, as people of faith, a new understanding of the relationship among our various faith communities. The covenant that God initiated with Abraham and Sarah takes us a step beyond the covenant that God made with Noah. You remember that in the ancient world, covenants were binding promises between two parties, with firm agreement about who was to do what, and about the consequences if one party failed to live up to the agreement. In the covenant with Noah, the agreement was essentially one-sided. God promised to “remember” Noah and to renounce forever God’s ability to destroy creation.
Now we come to the story of Abraham and Sarah. This story is from the same source and time-frame as that of Noah, i.e., it was put together by the returnees from Exile sometime in the fourth century B.C. I want to begin by focusing on two elements of this story: name and covenant. In the Hebrew Bible, names are important. One’s name is a decisive marker of identity, and a change of name, as for example, when the renamed Jacob became Israel, always marks a fundamental change within the person and in that person’s relationship with God. In today’s story, everyone receives a new name. Although the English obscures it, when God announces Godself, when God says, “I am God Almighty, walk before me and be blameless,” the Hebrew word for God Almighty, el Shaddai, occurs in the Bible here for the first time. The meaning is uncertain – it may mean “God of the mountains” – but the intent is clear. God is declaring in a new way God’s oneness and God’s new expectation that Abraham and Sarah will give their loyalty only to el Shaddai, to God Almighty, and not to any of the gods of the other ancient peoples. What is more important, God gives Abraham and Sarah new names. Notice that God doesn’t ask them if they want new names. God simply renames them. In so doing, God declares God’s sovereignty over them, and God’s power to change their destinies.
The changes in Abraham’s and Sarah’s names are part of the covenant that God establishes with them. Even though both of them are well past the time when they could expect any further descendants – Abraham had had a son by Hagar, Ishmael, but Sarah had been barren -- God takes the initiative and makes an extraordinary covenant with them. Notice that, like Noah, Abraham does not ask for anything. But God promises an “everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.” In effect, God promises to be God to Abraham, through Abraham to all Israel, through Israel to the church, and through the church to all of us. What is more important, God extends God’s covenant even beyond Israel and the church. God promises Abraham that he will be the “ancestor of a multitude of nations.” Sarah too is a full partner in this covenant. Not only will God bless her, but “she shall give rise to nations, kings of peoples shall come from her.” God has promised to be bound ultimately to all peoples, all who find their ancestry in Abraham, either by birth or by adoption.
You remember that when God promised Noah that God would never again destroy the earth, God made all the promises and asked virtually nothing of Noah. All Noah and his family had to do was to have children, not eat blood, and not murder each other. However, in the covenant with Abraham and Sarah, God raises the ante. There is a piece of the story that is missing in our lection. In those verses we hear what else God asks of Abraham besides just loyalty – hard as even that proved for the ancient Hebrews. In the verses in between the two parts of our lection, God requires Abraham, to undergo circumcision. God further requires that, on the eighth day, all the males in his family, and all the males in the generations after him, will be circumcised. In effect, God marks God’s covenant in Abraham’s flesh, binding him body and soul to his relationship with God. To be faithful to God, Abraham will now have to do more than just trust God’s promise and answer to a new name. He will have to put his own body on the line. On his face in front of el Shaddai, Abraham knows that his life has changed forever.
Abraham will have to put his own body on the line. On this second Sunday in Lent, the church bids us reflect on how our use of our own bodies reflects our relationship with God. As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “We do not head straight to Easter from the spa or the shopping mall. Instead, we are invited to spend forty days examining the nature of our own covenant with God.”2 As we join the retreat of the church, we might begin by considering our own names and identities. Just like the ancient Hebrews, we know that names are important. Although we may not realize it, much of our identity is bound up with our names, and names reveal much to others about who we are and where we have come from. As baptized Christians, we have a particular identity, one given to us in baptism. We may not have received new names at the font, but as we died and rose again with Christ, as we were sealed with the chrism, we were made “Christ’s own forever.” And so we might ask ourselves what about our lives reflects our identity as one of Christ’s own.
What is more important, we are bid to consider the nature of our covenant with God. What is important in our relationship with God? On what does it depend? What do we expect of God, and what do we think God expects of us? Do we trust our relationship with God to be life giving, or do we still fear God’s anger and condemnation? The Anglican expression of Christianity emphasizes the incarnation, i.e., we believe that what we do, either in liturgy or ministry, is ultimately more important than what we think about God. So we might also ponder how we act out in our own bodies our covenant with God. In what ways might God expect us to put our bodies on the line by taking up our own cross? Finally, we might ponder our relationship with those of other faith communities, most especially with other children of Abraham. Do we grant the inclusive nature of God’s covenant? Without discounting the differences among our faith communities – and they are significant – are we willing to see what we hold in common with Jews and Muslims? Can we respect our brothers and sisters of other faiths? Can we put our own bodies on the line in partnership with them, to help advance the Kingdom of God?
According to tradition, Abraham kept his tent open in all four directions, the more easily to share his food and water with travelers from anywhere. In that spirit, may we join hands with all those who thirst and hunger for justice, peace, and dignity.
----------------------
1. The story of the Abraham Festival is found at http://abrahamfestival.org/index.php , accessed March 2, 2012.
2. “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 55.
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