Keep silent— A meditation on prophets & prophecies

“Keep silent!”

(Amos 8:3c)

“…and they will never be uprooted again.”

(Amos 9:15)

Keep silent!  Last time I was reflecting on the fascinating question of who was actually speaking in the Bible, especially when it was supposed to be God.  But now, I am wondering:  Who is being spoken to?  The other morning, sitting on the porch with my coffee and my Bible, waving to the few people who walk by at 6:45 in the morning, listening to the cars pass on the distant tollway, and wondering what will be for breakfast, I was reading this section of Amos and getting kind of lulled into a scriptural stupor by all the woes and unto yous and thus says the Lords –as often happens when I am reading—my mind began to wonder. I probably was starting to drift off into a daydream of famine and drought, locust and destruction when all of a sudden I read:

That day, the palace songs

will turn to howls,

--declares the Lord, Your God—

the corpses will be many

that are thrown down everywhere.

Keep silent!

And I was startled out of my drowsing.  I was stunned by how direct that final command felt. And my immediate thought was: who is God talking to?

Was He talking to the Israelites who are howling in their palaces and throwing bodies everywhere?  Telling them to hold it down; what did they expect after all their sin and betrayal?  Was He talking to Amos?  Telling the prophet to keep this horrible secret to himself; i.e. Keep this between us! Don’t speak a word! Don’t tell the Israelites what is in store for them! Let it be a surprise.

A little research and I soon discovered that other translations have interpreted that “Keep silent” as a description of how the bodies of the slaughtered will be disposed: “Many shall be the bodies. They shall cast them forth in silence.” (NASB)

But I was still struck by that “Keep silent.” It sat there in front of me; a directive, a command even.  And I couldn’t help but wonder, if this is God’s word, in the end isn’t God really talking to me?  I was the one reading it? I was the one whose mind was wandering. Whose head was full of blue jays and car sounds and strollers and scrambled eggs. I was the one who was drifting aimlessly through God’s word, watching only for some new phrase to hang another essay on.  I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too busy being distracted by all the voices in my head…

Keep silent.

And from that moment on, I was focused. The voices inside me, the distracted anxious voices telling me I was wasting my time stopped. They were quiet. Even that voice that kept asking about those dishes in the sink from last night. Shouldn’t I get to those first. After I finished those dishes and made another pot of coffee, then I’d be able to give the Word of God the attention it deserved! Then… then… then… For the moment, they were all still. Silent.  And I read on.

Toward the end of Amos there is a beautiful simple statement:

“…and they will never be uprooted again.” (9:15)

Reading that I began to ponder anew: In hindsight what does a statement like that mean to a people who were to see their temple destroyed, their kingdom conquered, and so many dragged off into exile? A people who have (it seems) never really known the kind of stability it seems to promise; at least not for over 2500 years?   

It comes at the end of a prophecy of destruction; God’s wrath unleashed.  And yet God promises to plant them in their own soil and “they will never be uprooted again.” It seems to be a promise of peace and harmony, of permanence and stability in Israel. And yet, reading this promise 2500+ years later, one has to ask:  Is it just some words in a story? Is it a fairy tale? Some kind of magical thinking? Or worse, a lie? 

If it is a prophecy of God’s chosen people finding permanence and stability in the Promised Land, then it seems like foolishness. Historically the Jews have been displaced time and again.

But, as I sat –being silent—quietly contemplating this phrase, I began to wonder: is it possible God means something else entirely? Is it possible God is speaking not to a limited group of people here, but to all of His people everywhere.  Is it possible that this promise, though made specifically through the prophet Amos to the people of Israel, was actually meant to transcend that time and place; was meant not for a specific tribe or race, but for all God’s children? It is a promise to all of us, from God, that we can never again be uprooted; because He has planted us beyond the reach of the one who would uproot us. 

The LOVE of God became flesh, became a gardener (cf. John 20:15), a gardener who plants the seed so deep and so true it can never be uprooted. And His plow, His shovel, His spade, is the Cross. By His plow He opens the universe, opens eternity, opens even His own heart, and plants us so deeply within His love that we can never again be uprooted.

It is not by our efforts that we are saved, not by our lack of sin, but simply by His love, His grace, His Cross.  The peace, the harmony, the stability comes not from our prayers, not from our fasting or sacrifices, not from any restraint or self-control on our part, but from God’s love.

However, teaching our ears to hear and appreciate the harmony and beauty in God’s love takes some effort, at least for some of us.  We can’t find peace in it while we are letting our ego wnder, our eyes wander, our desires wander freely, and so we may find ourselves tugging at our own roots, agitated by wants and old nurtured longings.  And so, in such cases, we may find that prayer and fasting make good choir masters for the soul. They can help us train our ear to hear in God’s mysterious melody a beauty and glory we could never imagine on our own. All our desires are fulfilled in it, this endless glorious song of permanence and peace, if only we allow ourselves to hear it. 

If only we “keep silent” and listen.

The Law & the Good News--a meditation for the 3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time

 “He has anointed me to bring

good news to the afflicted...

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

sight to the blind... to proclaim

a year of favor...”

--Luke 4:18-19

In today’s first readings we hear that stirring passage from Nehemiah (cf.8:2-10) that tells of the unrolling of the scroll and the reading of the law before all the people and how the people began to weep when they heard the law.  But Nehemiah, Ezra and the Levites remind the people that this is a day not for weeping but for celebrating. The law is supposed to be a source of consolation and renewal and joy, not an oppressive burden.

And there is an echo of this story in the Gospel for today.  Jesus unrolls the scroll and reads from Isaiah the passage I quoted above. And when He finishes, says something so beautiful it astonishes His audience: Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. (cf. 4:21)

Jesus is the Word of God, the Law come in person into their midst –and what does he bring? Fearful judgment and hard justice? That is not what He comes to proclaim.  He comes to proclaim liberty to captives, sight to the blind, and good news to the afflicted! Liberty, sight, and good news; a year of favor.  Quite a jubilee, I would say.  That is what Jesus brings, the same Jesus who tells us elsewhere that He has not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it.  He is the fulfillment of the law.  In the next several chapters of Luke we will see Jesus go about healing the blind, setting people free from illness and demons, feeding the hungry, cleansing the leper, and proclaiming a message of love and mercy.  This is the law in its fullness abiding among us; He is the law.

When I wrote about that passage from Nehemiah a few months back I focused on the weeping of the people. I was struck by their tears, because I had recently read Deuteronomy (and Leviticus and Numbers) and the echoing of all those laws, those restrictions, regulations was still reverberating in my head.  In a half ironic mode, I had to wonder if some of those tears weren’t tears of dread: Lord, what have we got ourselves into! Weren’t we better off not knowing? But, in all seriousness, we are never better off in ignorance. Because ignorance is captivity.  Ignorance is slavery; it is life in Plato’s cave; fearing shadows.  The law sets us free.  But how can that be?  If the law sets regulations on our behavior, then aren’t we simply trading one for of slavery for another?

And I guess that depends on how we look at the law.  Do we see “the law” (the Ten Commandments, the Deuteronomic code, etc) as a rule book meant to control our behavior, a way of keeping us in check?  Or do we see it as a guidebook, an instruction manual, that helps us live our lives more fully, more completely, more joyfully?

Do you hear the law as good news? Does it set you free? Or does it sound like the turning of a key in a lock, the clanking of shackles fastened to your ankles?

Does it open your eyes? Or does it feel like a darkness cast over them?

How do you see the law?

Recently someone at my house told me I was being passive aggressive. Their words hurt. It was like a stinging slap to my face (or my ego).  And my gut reaction was to lash back. To defend myself with excuses and reasons for why I had behaved and spoken the way I had.  But, whether my reasons were valid or not, what I was really saying is: I don’t want to see that truth.  I don’t want to know that truth.  I would rather be blind to it. I would rather be ignorant.

But –with time, and reflection—I realized there was truth in what they said. There was a truth that could only set me free if I accepted it and let it dwell in my heart.  There words opened my eyes to something I had not wanted to see, but something that was true and something that was becoming a bit of a habit.  And I could only be set free from the captivity of my own habits and ego if I listened and accepted and let myself hear them not as something to fear, but as “good news.” A chance to grow and change and become better. I had to adjust the way I received those words. I had to receive them not as a slap on the face, but as a kind of nudge –like bumping up against a guard rail that protects us from going over a dangerous cliff.  It is hard to accept sometimes, but occasionally we need to be corrected. That’s how we get better: whether it is at math or spelling, fixing a dryer, or just being a husband.

How do we hear the law? I think the good news is this: regardless of what we think, the sound of God’s law is always the sound of a door opening.   

Why pray? thoughts for the fifth Sunday of Easter

“If you remain in Me and

My words remain in you,

ask for whatever you want

and it will be done for you.”

–John 15:7

 Is it true?  This passage from John; is it true? If you think about it for any length of time, do you think: Yes. It is confirmed in my own experience. When I pray, I do get what I want! Or, are you like me.  How often have I prayed for strength, for peace, for help, for healing and yet still felt alone, weak, and broken?  How many innocent children have prayed sincerely and desperately for help yet never received it? Or the addict who prayed for help, for courage, even for a cure, but finds himself slipping back into drink, or drug, or self-destructive habit.  Or the parent who prayed for the suffering child? Isn’t even one, proof enough[1]? How many do we have to list to disprove this statement?

And so, I ask myself: Why pray? Why do you pray? Why do I pray? Why should we bother?

“…ask for whatever you want

and it will be done for you.”

            If it isn’t true, then it certainly makes me wonder: isn’t it evidence against itself? Evidence that either the scriptures or the Lord cannot be trusted?   Who can believe a word this “man” says?   

            Certainly, after any number of apparently unanswered prayers, one can understand why a person, even a Christian, would stop praying.  It ends up seeming like nothing more than “magical thinking,” as some atheists have called it.  And how often do we hear people say: Our thoughts and prayers are with you?  As if prayer were just a kind of thinking, equal to daydreaming or wishing or hoping for something.  Is it?  Are they the same?  Or is there more to this question of pray than meets the eye?

            If the Bible is the Word of God, and if –as Christian maintain—it is unerring, then what does it mean, what does Jesus mean when He says: “…ask for whatever you want, and it will be done for you?” So bold a statement, and one so easily disproved… what does it mean? And this isn’t just a weird promise found in John (cf. 14:13; 16:24). It also shows up in Matthew 21:22, and Mark 11:24, as well as passages in all 4 gospels that could easily be interpreted as promising the same (cf. Mt. 7:7; Lk 11:8-10).  Apparently, it was really part of the teachings of our Lord. And if we are supposed to believe it, then what is Jesus really saying? Why is Jesus so bold in His promises about the power of prayer and particularly prayer in His name?

            I can honestly say this: the vast majority of times when I have prayed for help or guidance or strength or will power or courage (this isn’t asking for a new electric football set, or a ninth inning homerun for Jimmy Wynne), I can honestly say that even after invoking the name of the Lord, at the minimum 99.9% of the time I feel no immediate consolation, no more hope or strength or courage or will-power --sometimes I even feel discouraged because nothing changed, nothing miraculous happened. 

            So, why do I continue to pray?

            Because prayer --for me—anymore—isn’t about getting what I ask for, it’s about getting what I need (which is almost always: less of myself).  I have come to believe that prayer isn’t even about getting, but about giving. I give myself to God; put myself in His hands, submit myself to His will; and in doing so, conform myself more to the body of Christ.

            If prayer is really only about getting what we want, and what we want is a new job, new car, easier life, healthier body, win the lottery, then perhaps it really is just magical thinking. Seen in that way God becomes a kind of magical or spiritual vending machine.  I put in my coin (my prayer) and turn the knob (cross myself and mention Jesus name), and out comes a healed wife, a happier child, a more obedient cat, or my name atop the Nobel Prize list[2]. 

But, in my life, that isn’t how prayer works –and not how God seems to work, either.  In my life, prayer changes me more than it changes God.  I have come to think of it like planting a garden; those first desperate pleas and prayers are seeds planted in the dark silent earth –the cold of the grave, one might say—but as with a garden, with time, with some attention and care and nurturing, even some neglect (perhaps most of all this)—little by little tendrils green begin to appear, a tender leaf unfolds, new life appears, and without realizing it suddenly one morning flowers are blooming.

This is why I keep praying –not to plant a seed in God, but that God might plant a seed in me. So, prayer is my way of turning the earth, preparing the soil, stirring in some compost. Ask any serious gardener --pulling weeds is a constant effort.

Instead of thinking of prayer as a vending machine, think of it as gardening; as the original “slow” movement. It’s the original alternative life style.

I’m struck by that image in Genesis: walking in the garden with the Lord in the cool of the evening…

And it was good…

That’s why I pray.  To find a piece of that – a peace like that—growing in the soil of my being. That, like the soil in that original garden, the soil we were first formed from, my soil, my being, might bring forth much life. 

That doesn’t mean I don’t pray for what I need, what I want, what I hope for.  I still get on my knees and bring it all to God. Every bit of it. The selfish and the selfless, The mundane and the miraculous, I still ask for it.  I give it all to Him.  It just means I can’t measure the results in a bank book or on a tally sheet.  In fact, I’m not sure I can measure them at all. What I can do, is watch for stirrings of green.  Signs of new life.  And celebrate each and every one.

Dear Lord,

You took a vine out of Egypt,

planted it, cleared the ground,

it took root and spread…

Give me the patience, Oh Lord

to wait for the precious fruit

of that vine, and the courage

to continue to pray, and to wait

like the farmer for the early and the late rains…

And let me walk beside You always

in the cool of the evening, in Your fruitful garden…

           

---

[1] I won’t mention the unsuccessful poet who prays for a poem to be accepted by the New Yorker or the beleaguered football fan who prays for the Oilers to go to the Super Bowl or the struggling student about to take a test…

[2] Or Bum Philips stays in Houston and Earl Campbell wins the Nobel Prize for football.