Taking Sides

I've been sharing my personal journal of my Lenten journey. Instead of “giving up” something for Lent, I've decided to “take on” something. Specifically, I’m taking on the challenge of learning to “Read the Bible Like (sic) Jesus Did.”

I'm fascinated by the way unplanned events in life sometimes line up in unexpected and explainable patterns. A buddy plays with the cigarette lighter in my car and drops it, burning a nickel-sized hole on the seat. As a result, I have to replace the seat covers. Had Whites Auto Store not been a half-block from where I worked, I might have gone to Western Auto or Sears and I’d have missed her, because she left on vacation with her family and then returned to School at TCU.

But there I was, walking into Whites Auto Store to buy seat covers, and there she was. 51-and-a-half years later, we’re still soul mates.

Had I not taken that Thomas Bandy book to read on the flights to and from General Assembly in 2005, the cumulative understandings of 45 years of ministry would not have taken the specific turn it took. Had I not been pressured into early retirement three months later, I probably would never have taken time to develop that new direction. Had I not served as Interim Minister in Trenton, Missouri, I’d not have found that Edward Hammett book that was left in the desk—the book in which I found the concept that united all my work and study so that new direction finally made sense.

In either story, had any link of the chain been omitted, who knows where life would have taken me? I don’t believe life is scripted and planned so that everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe humans are puppets or robots and God pushes buttons and manipulates strings to make things happen.

But I do believe God is present, and that sometimes events string together in unexpected and unexplained ways. And I believe those two observations are somehow related. I don’t understand; but for now, I choose to celebrate the Serendipity of God in life.

Had I not read Edward Hammett’s book I might never have made the connections regarding the relationship between the Millennial Generation and the church. Millennials don’t want doctrines or rules or archaic (and usually ineffective, sometimes even counterproductive) organizational structures. They want to know how to follow Jesus. Had I not made that connection, my eye may not have been drawn to the title of Derek Flood’s book, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives and Why We All Need to Learn To Read the Bible Like Jesus Did (my underlining.)

   But here I am, deep into the book, and if you've been following these blogs you’ll recognized that I’m stuck on high center while the impact sinks in. For the first time in my life the contradictions in the Bible make sense. I've spent a lifetime in damage control—trying to defend the Scriptures by explaining away the contradictions.

Well, guess what! I rediscover that the Scriptures don’t need my defense! Once again I’m challenged to let the Scriptures speak for themselves without trying to make them say what I learned in Sunday School.

 The contradictions are there intentionally, and are part of the message! They represent the ongoing debate of the community of faith, struggling to discern the nature and will of God.

One side of the debate sees God as territorial, vengeful and blood-thirsty; a warrior calling for genocide, dashing babies’ heads against rocks and disemboweling pregnant women! This perspective is the more ancient of the two sides, probably the residue of pagan superstitions that surrounded the Israelites and continued to influence the practice of their faith.

The other side relates to Melchizedek, the mysterious figure who blesses Abram in Genesis 14 and to whom the risen Christ is compared in Hebrews 7. Melchizedek is the “King of Salem” (or Shalom); and it’s interesting that in one rabbinic interpretation Messiah would be called “Prince of Peace (Shalom)”.

This second side of the debate was largely ignored until the 8^th century prophets begin calling for justice in place of sacrifice and mercy in place of ritual incantations.

Following Babylonian captivity (ca. 586 – 516 BCE), the debate was fully developed in the diverse Jewish expectation of a messiah. Would messiah be a military/political hero who would lead Israel in conquest over Israel’s enemies? Or would he be the Suffering Servant of the second part of Isaiah: one who would not break a bruised reed or snuff out a smoldering wick; but would be faithful to justice (Isaiah 42:3 & Matthew 12:20).

Which would Messiah be: a warrior/king like David (it’s interesting in this context to remember that God would not allow David to build a temple because David had drawn blood!), or a selfless healer and reconciler of humanity?

The debate peaked in the confrontations between Jesus and the leaders of the religious establishment. And as Jesus quoted the Scriptures, it’s not that he “cherry-picked” the sweet, gentle passages. He took sides. He made his stand on one side of the debate!

In Luke 4, for example, Jesus’ audience longed for God’s wrath. They believed—like so many Jews and Christians still do today—that justice is fulfilled by the destruction of their enemies. Jesus challenged this common religious belief.

This violent view was at the heart of the common Jewish hope that Messiah would come in vengeance: a warrior king who would vanquish the pagan oppressors and restore Israel to its glory.

So, in Luke 4:16-30, when the people hear that Jesus will work to liberate the people from their oppression, they are pleased. But, when they understand that this will involve showing grace and not vengeance to Gentiles, they become furious with Jesus and try to kill him.[1]

Jesus had chosen part of a text (Isaiah 61:1-2) which contained elements of both sides of the debate; but Jesus didn't ignore the remainder. He totally rejected it. He took sides; and that realization impacts the way I read…

…the rest of the story.

That’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk

Jim

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[1] Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives and Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Books, 2014) Kindle edition, Location 938f.

A Blog for the Second Week in Advent

From Bethlehem to Bedlam[1]

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6 NRSV).

After twenty minutes in line I finally arrived at the cash register, still scolding myself for waiting until the last minute to finish my Christmas shopping—again. I knew how crowded it always gets; in fact, crowds and Christmas had become synonymous to me; and I wasn't doing crowds very well that year.

When I took out my checkbook, the clerk stopped ringing up my items, and asked, "Do you have your SCCC card?"

"My what?"

"Your Speedy Customer Check Cashing Card."

"No."

"Then you'll need to have your check Okayed at the manager's desk,"

Had it not been so late on Christmas Eve, and had I really thought it would be less crowded anywhere else, I'd have left in protest. But I was trapped. So, the cash register was cleared, I lost my place in line and joined another twenty minute line.

Finally at the desk, I presented my check. The woman behind the desk said: "I need to see a driver's license and two other forms of identifica­tion."

I fumbled in my wallet for my driver's license, and asked, "What other kinds of identification do you need?"

"Do you have any credit cards?"

"Yes, and I have my dental records and shot card, if that will help!"

"I'm sorry, sir;" she said, patiently. "I'm just doing my job."

I knew it wasn't her fault. I just couldn't help myself. Finally, approved check in hand, still smarting from guilt, frustration, and weariness, I joined yet another twenty minute line, thinking, "At least Christmas comes only once a year!"

We really get into the busy-ness of Christmas preparation with its traffic, crowds, family activities, parties, shopping, wrapping, cooking, programs, concerts, etc. until many of us reach that same low point: "At least Christmas comes only once a year!" We may even add, “Bah! Humbug!”

Even in this second week of Advent, whose theme is “Peace,” the bedlam of Christmas preparation becomes a threat to the way we approach that special birth in Bethlehem. Bethlehem and Bedlam. Believe it or not, they’re connected.

In medieval London there was a convent called “St. Mary of Bethlehem.” Later it became a hospital, and eventually a house for the insane. With no known care, the insane were just locked up and food was shoved under the door twice a day. The noise and confusion of that place was known throughout England. Over time the original name, "St. Mary of Bethlehem" was shortened to "Bethlehem", and, by corruption, "Bedlam." The mother of the word, bedlam, is Bethlehem; and its father is the screams of the insane.

Bethlehem and bedlam were also related at Jesus’ birth. You know the story: a crowd­ed, dusty city; vendors hawking their wares in the chaos; Roman soldiers everywhere; an overcrowded inn; people sleeping on floors and streets; barnyard smells and sounds, a birthing among animals... Bedlam. And it didn't end with Jesus' birth. Just a short time later Herod's soldiers murdered all boy babies under the age of two, and "A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her babies and refusing to be consoled, because they are no more." (Matthew 2:18)  Bedlam.

"O Little Town of Bethlehem" is not just candles, carols, shepherds, stars and sentimentality; but neither is it just crowded malls, depression, suicide, and merchant's associa­tions. The images of scripture remind us that Jesus was born, not only in Bethlehem, but also in Bedlam! While the two are not identical, neither can they be separated.

But in the midst of the bedlam of Caesar’s census, in the midst of the bedlam that was Bethlehem to Mary and Joseph, there came, for them:

One quiet moment in the star-clustered night;

Two weary travelers knew an end was in sight;

So the soon-to-be mother grasped her husband’s strong hand

And paused to remember where their journey began.

Nine months of yearning filled with joy and with pain.

He almost had left her, but then chose to remain

Close to the woman he had not even kissed,

Who would bear him a son that would never be his.

They dreamed of the times they would spend with their son

Taking trips through the hillsides and watching him run

And some days the fingers that had fashioned the stars

Would reach out to hold them when the walk was too far.

They wrestled with knowing that his life would bring change

Their friends would grow distant, and shun them as strange

Though they tried not to think it, in their hearts they were sure

That their baby was destined to die for the world.

And in one quiet moment a woman and man

Accepted the part they would have in God’s plan

To give up His glory and be born as a man

In one quiet moment.

In one quiet moment, they could suddenly hear

Thousands of angels singing so clear

“Glory to God! His salvation is near”

In this one quiet moment.[2]

Somehow, no matter how bedraggled we are after weeks of crowds and shopping malls and overeating and overspend­ing and going home late after Christmas Eve service to finish wrapping and stuffing and assembling—small hands dragging us out of bed on Christmas morning after far too little sleep—spending all morning cooking and all afternoon washing dishes—kids bouncing off the walls, hyperactive from Christmas stocking candy... Somehow, no matter how frayed and spent and bedraggled, in some “quiet moment” we still remember the “real meaning of Christmas”.

And it's really not all that surprising; after all, from Bethlehem to Bedlam, and back, at Christmas we still celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace.

That’s how I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] The title is from a website I found when I Googled “St. Mary of Bethlehem.” The story appears below.

[2] Written by Glad Prosper, Russian R&B singer.