Fall into the hands of a loving God (reading Deuteronomy)

“And when all these words have come true

for you –the blessing and the curse…if you

return to the Lord your God, if with all your

heart and with all your soul you obey His

voice, you and your children…then the Lord

your God…will have pity on you and gather

you back from all the peoples among whom

the Lord your God has scattered you.”

--Deuteronomy 30:1-3

            People of faith (especially Catholics) often joke about not reading the Bible, particularly books like Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, books that include long lists of laws, statutes and regulations instead of stories and heroes and pizzazz. We imagine the writing of these books will be incredibly dry and we fear the God we imagine it presents: a God who is all rules and obedience (all stick and no carrot, one might say).  But what has amazed me again and again as I read through the Pentateuch is: 1. how fascinating these ancient books are, & 2. how tender and loving the Lord God appears; already an image that will find its perfect reflection (and embodiment) in His Son.

            Scholars speculate that Deuteronomy was written during the reign of King Hezekiah (c 715-686 BCE), possibly 800 years after the events described.  Because Hezekiah was concerned with correct worship, ridding Jerusalem of idols and idolatrous practices, and renewing the commitment to the one true God, it would make sense that he would want these stories and prohibitions and traditions written down in a text to support his efforts. A king engaging a scholar to gather and transcribe the words of Moses as a means of putting those laws together in one book, that seems a reasonable theory of how Deuteronomy may have come to be written down.  The Hebrew tradition even refers to what the Christian Bible call Deuteronomy (Greek for Second Law) as the Words (i.e. the words of Moses –from the opening line of the book). It is made up of three discourses attributed to Moses. They are lengthy exhortations to the people that first remind them of where they have come from and what they have gone through, then exhort them to keep faith with God and to observe His laws that they may always find favor with the Lord.  But the book has another note, an undertone of woe. Moses seems pretty certain that the people will not stay true to God. Reflecting on his impending death, Moses bluntly declares: “I know that after my death you are certain to grow corrupt; you will leave the way I have marked out for you; disaster will befall you for doing what is evil in the eyes of the Lord…” 31:29

            So, yes. There is a lot of talk of rules, fascinating and confusing and sometimes arcane rules, but then there is the strangely, profoundly, sorrowfully painful sense that the author (whether Moses or some 8^th century priestly scribe) understood the frailty of man, and the allure of sin. But, lingering behind all of this is a tenderness on the part of God (as depicted by either Moses or said 8^th century scribe) that inspires me, and comforts me, and demands of me renewal and commitment, mercy and hope.

            Clearly the God depicted here is not some cold distant angry vengeful God, it is a glimpse of the God who would become enfleshed in 1^st century Bethlehem, who would grow up in 1^st century Nazareth, and who would die on a cross for our sins in 1^st century Jerusalem.

            And what do I offer to support this thesis? The pity God has on His people. Here at the end, after all the rules and all the laws and all the threats, what does Moses tell the people? He tells this: Even after you sin, even after you reject God, even after you are scattered across the face of the earth, the Lord your God “will have pity on you and gather you back…”  That is a hopeful promise, a hopeful assurance. Though the people turn from God, Moses concludes his final discourse by holding out an offer of redemption.

           

God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that we might live (cf. Jn 3:16).

And that promise found in the midst of all that law and regulation, that assurance, is strikingly familiar for those who know the Gospels.  It resonates with the promise of the one who came not to destroy the law, but to fulfill it (cf. Mt. 5:17). Moses doesn’t ever let the people off the hook. He tells them: this is the way to live as God’s people, but when you fail (and you will) don’t lose hope. Return to God who longs to gather you as a mother hen gathers her chicks (cf. Mt. 23:37).  

Think of God’s love like gravity; it draws us to Him. If we deny it, if we ignore it, if we pretend we don’t have to accept it we are doomed. There was a wonderful Louis Malle movie in 1980 called: Atlantic City. In it a young woman on an airplane is reminded by the stewardess to put on her seatbelt. To which the young woman responds, “Oh, I don’t believe in gravity.” Think about that. If the airplane hits turbulence or suddenly loses altitude, will her feelings about gravity really matter?  God’s love draws us to Him, and sin is simply turning away from that love; pretending it doesn’t exist; living like we don’t believe in it.  Moses warns the people: don’t turn away from God’s love; don’t pretend it isn’t real. You won’t like the consequences.

I think what I have learned from reading Dante, and now Deuteronomy is this: God’s judgment (whatever that means and however it looks) is just one more sign of his eternal and endless love. God’s judgment is always and everywhere simply His outstretched hand; if we accept it, it is a blessing; but when we reject it, for whatever reason, we make it a curse. And we make of ourselves something less than who (or what) we were meant to be. 

As it says in Deuteronomy: God has set before us this day a blessing and curse (cf. 11:26).

To misquote Hebrews (and Jonathan Edwards): It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of a loving God (cf. Hebrews 10:31).

Deuteronomy 28: Would a loving God fasten a plague upon us?

“The Lord will fasten the plague on you,

until it has exterminated you from the country

which you are about to enter and make your own.”

--Deuteronomy 28: 21

There is a tendency to think of the Old Testament God as a God of judgment, harsh and demanding.  But, if the Bible is the Word of God and if Jesus came "not to abolish the law, but fulfill it" (cf. Mt 5: 17), then (for me) that puts the Old Testament God (Yahweh) in a different light.  If Jesus is the fulfillment of the law, then there is much more to the "law" than blind obedience and harsh judgment. So... what are we to do with a reading like this? Even a whole book like Deuteronomy?  A book that seems obsessed with laws and obedience and punishment. For me, my first step is to consider (when reading scripture) what part of it troubles me.  And in this particular passage, it is that phrase "fasten the plague on you..."That word “fasten” troubles me. And that means it also interests me. I want to think about it; mull it over; see where it takes me.

            Reading through Deuteronomy there is a lot of talk about laws and commandments that God requires His people to fulfill and uphold.  But here in chapters 27 and 28 we start getting some clear and almost nightmarish statements about what happens if they don’t.  In this chapter we have one of the most horrifying visions in the Bible; a vision of parents eating the flesh of their own children (cf. 28:53ff):

“…you will eat the offspring of your own body… the gentlest and tenderest of your men will scowl at his brother and at his wife… not willing to give any of them any of his own children’s flesh, which he is eating…”

The vision of this terrible hunger comes in a warning.  It is part of a curse that is threatened to befall God’s people if they don’t keep and observe His commandments and laws.  The brutality of it, the immensity of it, overwhelms me. This image of a father, even a gentle or tender one,  eating his own children and eating them so selfishly that he will eye his brother and beloved wife suspiciously --like an animal guarding his kill.  What could have prompted the author to have written this? What could have prompted God to have threatened it? How can such a fate be just? How can it be deserved?  How can it be the judgment of a loving and merciful God? Why would God threaten to "fasten" it upon His people if they do not follow and obey Him.

            Scholars may speculate that this prophecy of a curse was possibly written after the fact and reflects some actual catastrophe that befell the Jews (or that they witnessed) –a siege and horrible time of starvation.  But, taken on its own terms, how does this prophecy reflect the God (and the laws) fulfilled in Christ?  Are we to believe that a loving God fastens such punishments on His beloved people?  Is that how Love acted when it came to earth and took flesh and dwelt among us?

            So then, I ask myself (and the text) regardless of what the original scribe intended, what do you reveal about the God who became man and died on a cross for my sins? How is this “curse” a sign of God's love.  And to me, it seems that it can only be a sign of love if we look at it not as something God imposes or threatens, but as dire consequences God is warning us against. What if, instead of reading this as a threat of something God will do to us, we read it is a warning about the "natural" consequences of sin?  When we turn from God we risk becoming beasts capable of eating our own children.  What if God is telling us, fasten yourself to Me, follow My laws, obey My commands and you will become more fully the creatures you were made to be?  But turn away and you will become fastened instead to exploitation, plunder, selfishness, war, famine, blindness and cruelty --even cruelty toward those you should love (even your own children). If we turn away from God, we risk becoming blind beasts who devour our progeny and beg to be enslaved by our captors, our tormentors (our sin). Turn away from God and we will find ourselves begging to become the slaves of prosperity, technology, pleasure and comfort, selfishness and sin. Sound familiar?

           As the commercial used to say:  Calgon –take me away. 

Some thoughts on Romans 1-2

“It is yourself you condemn when you judge others…” –Romans 2:1b

“…persevering in doing good…” –Romans 2:7b

During his March 5 Angelus address, Pope Francis recommended that Christians turn to the Bible when we are engaged in spiritual battle.  Even asking what if we turned to a little pocket Bible as often as we turned to our mobile phones.

Okay! I take the bait.  I’ve begun reading Paul’s letter to the Romans for my Lenten reading. The choice was very happenstance, as far as that goes. I had begun to read Jeremiah on my own, but the Bible group I study with voted to read Romans, therefore that is what I will read –partly in preparation for the study group, but most definitely for my own contemplation and spiritual growth.

And so, here is my first meditation on Paul’s longest letter.

In the opening chapters there is a striking element. Paul develops an image in chapter one of God’s wrath not as a judgment imposed upon sinners, but as a natural consequence of their rejection of God.  Because they reject Him, God abandons them “to degrading passions” and “unacceptable thoughts and indecent behavior” (cf. 1: 26-32). Chapter 1 builds to a crescendo in intensity as Paul proclaims that though these sinners are “well aware of God’s ordinance[s]” they not only choose to behave in degrading ways, but “applaud others who do the same” (1:32).   So, on some level we are being primed to anticipate a statement of how these figures should be treated by the Christian community.  And perhaps that is exactly what we get at the beginning of chapter 2, when Paul warns us: “It is yourself you condemn when you judge others…”

It fascinates me that a somewhat detailed description of sin and depravity is followed by a warning against judging. It fascinates me because it seems to me Paul is making a powerful statement not about sin and judgment, but about God’s generosity and mercy.  Where we might expect Paul to recommend casting out the sinner, or avoiding the sin, etc, he instead admonishes us to avoid judging others, lest we condemn ourselves.  And he reminds us that God’s generosity is “meant to bring you to repentance” (cf.2:4b).  This reminder and admonition, call us to humble ourselves not just before the saints, but also before the sinners. Perhaps, especially before the sinners. We must treat them generously and with compassion –if we would be children of the generous and merciful God.  If we would be the body of Christ.  Because by our compassion and generosity perhaps we will become –even for a moment-- a sign –an icon-- for someone, of God’s great love.

The last thing that struck me in this beautifully rich very early passage from Paul’s letter is his note about those who aim for “glory and honor and immortality by persevering in doing good…” in verse 7.  Coming right after his admonition about judging and his comment about God’s generosity, I was struck by the thought: How do I know who is “persevering in doing good?”  I may have no idea what the good is that you are doing? And I certainly can’t know how much it costs you to persevere in that effort.  Perhaps the good you are doing is to be gentle with a difficult boss, perhaps it is to walk away when others begin to gossip, or to quiet yourself at the end of the day and bow down on your knees before God and simply put your trust in His generous love and mercy. I do not know. I cannot know your heart. And perhaps the good you persevere in will look to the world like nothing but wasted effort and failure. But, again –who am I to judge? I’m sure that a death on the cross looked like failure to a lot of 1^st century Romans and Jews.