The cravings of the heart--some thoughts on Psalm 78 and Matthew 20

 “…while the food was still in their mouths…”

 --Psalm 78:30

 

Lately, I have taken to praying the psalms. I pick one and read it over and over again for a while, until I feel like I have prayed it out—I guess.  Or it has prayed me out.  Anyway, the other morning I opened my Bible looking for Psalm 88, which has been on my mind and in my heart for a while now. But instead, I accidentally stumbled into the middle of Psalm 78, one of the longer psalms. I was just about to turn the page and look for my intended, when I was caught by an image so startling that I was hooked, and without my knowing it, suddenly God was reeling me in.

 

Psalm 78 is a psalm of lessons from Israel’s history; recounting the Exodus and the desert wandering, it reminds us of God’s grace and God’s might, but also of Israel’s (and our own) obstinance.  And what caught my eye was that image of Israel, testing God’s patience, by asking constantly for more. God was feeding them manna from Heaven, and yet still the people muttered against Him. Sure, God can call forth streams of water from a rock, and send bread from Heaven, but what about meat?  Can He set a table for us right here in the desert? (cf. 78:19-20).  Yet, when God sends them meat, more meat than they can possibly eat, even as the food is in their mouths, their cravings were still upon them.  Instead of being grateful, and satisfied, their craving for something more, something different filled their hearts. Reading this I was reminded of my own cravings and appetites. How many times have I found myself, finishing a lovely dinner and already thinking about the next thing I want to eat. Not just another plate full of food, but already planning my next meal; even while food is in my mouth, I am already thinking about a snack, or starting to boil water for a cup of tea, and what about a slice of toast with honey! Hey, has anybody seen the box of Graham Crackers? Do we still have any ice-cream? Never mind. I think I’ll just make some popcorn…

Those cravings.  That constant hungering for something more. Something else… I relate to it. How often do I find myself blessed, given everything I need, ever wanted even... And still looking around, craving something more. One more pleasure, one more honor, one more word of praise... Last night as I was writing this reflection with my favorite fountain pen, I found myself wondering about fountain pens and suddenly I was shopping for a new pen... Even as I held in my hand one that I love, I was looking for a new one... Hmmm...  The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or so they say...

And what was God’s reaction to Israel's carping and craving?  According to the psalmist, with food still in their mouths and the cravings still in their heart, God’s wrath descended upon Israel, “slaughtering their strongest men…” (78:31). And, for some reason, as I read that, it struck me as full of meaning. Not just a statement of historic truth, but symbolic of something much more profound.  What does it mean to have your strongest men destroyed?  Paradoxically, I heard in this verse, not something fearful, but God’s grace. I heard in it an invitation. God takes away Israel’s strongest men, and by doing so He takes away their earthly power, their pride, their sense of security and independence.  By doing this, God makes Israel even more dependent on Him.  On God’s providence, and God’s grace. 

 

So, I began my day with this unexpected scene from Psalm 78, planted in my heart.  But, things really go interesting when we were watching Mass on-line and I heard the Gospel story about the mother of John and James asking Jesus to grant her sons a special place in His Kingdom, and their eagerness to drink the chalice that Jesus will drink (Mt. 20:20-28) .  We also hear how the other disciples are upset about this request.  And suddenly I realized: it’s the same story!  Here they are, James and John and all the disciples not just being fed manna from Heaven or piles of quail, but living with Jesus every day, walking with God, being fed by His Holy presence daily. The Lord is right there with them—the bread of life, so to speak, still in their mouths—and yet they crave more. More glory. More honor.  And it isn’t just James and John (or their mother). At one point all the disciples are arguing over who is most important.  Craving more… More significance.

 

And how does Jesus respond?  He takes away their security and power. He demands that they let go of, that they destroy, their strongest men; that they turn away from earthly glory and power and significance; lower themselves, become less, become like slaves.  Their egos, their pride, their craving for significance in the eyes of the world, their strongest men, must be slaughtered.

 

But Jesus called them to him and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’ (Matthew 20:25-28)

 

The lesson of Lent is to learn to let go of our cravings, and to be rid of our ‘strong men,” to let ourselves rest in the Love of God. And be fed by the real bread of Heaven…

 

Thy will be done.

Pharaoh’s hardened heart: Another look

“[the Egyptians]…whose hearts He turned to hate His own people,

To treat His servants deceitfully…”

--Psalm 105:25

Psalm 105 is a brief history of ancient Israel, with several verses on the exile and Exodus story.  And in it we come again upon this idea of God making someone obstinate or hateful –for some purpose known only to God. In this image from the Psalm we see God paradoxically turning the hearts of Pharaoh and the Egyptians against His own beloved people. In some unspoken way this turning of the enemy's heart to obstinacy and hate and deceit is presented as necessary for the fulfillment of God's plan; it seems somehow essential for the building up of Israel.  God makes Pharaoh’s heart hard and obstinate, against Pharaoh’s own good and the good of the Egyptians. And God does this (it seems) so that Israel’s ultimate victory can somehow be recognized as even more astonishing; more miraculous.  Israel overcomes her foes who are powerful, obstinately bad, persisting in evil, and who  far outnumber her –but who, in the end, are defeated through God’s miraculous intercession.

But I am left pondering: How is the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart necessary to God’s plan?  Even if this is just a myth (or hyperbole), why did the ancient story teller feel it necessary to put it in these terms? What lesson was God imparting by having His scribes write His story in this way?  If (for instance) God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart is a metaphor –then what is it a metaphor of? And what lesson (or insight) was it supposed to teach? What psychological (or spiritual) insight was it intended to reveal?

1.       That God is willful and can do whatever He likes?  Even make our hearts hard and turn our ways to deceit? Sin?  -OR

2.       That God’s plan, the work of a loving God, may even be found in the hardened heart and deceitful ways of our foe…

And, in the end, the key question is: What does a loving God accomplish by changing the hearts of Pharaoh, the Egyptians, all of Israel’s foes “so that they hate His own people?” What is it that He accomplishes through this hardened heart that He couldn’t accomplish otherwise? Why didn’t He change their hearts so that they loved His people?  What part does this hardening of the heart play in God’s plan?  How does it reveal His loving presence?  Those are the questions, the paradox, I am pondering these days. 

Next I want to spend a little time considering this passage, this image, through the lens of the four-fold method; seeking in it the four levels of reading: literal, allegorical, moral & anagogical.

  

More than many sparrows: a lesson in humor and humility

“…do not be afraid.  You are worth more than many sparrows.”
--Matthew 10:31

How reassuring it is to know that we are worth more than many sparrows. Sparrows, two of which could be purchased for a small coin (a penny); and yet Jesus assures us that we are worth more than many of these and so we don’t need to be afraid.  Is that an example of divine humor? Heavenly irony?  Or was that meant to be seriously reassuring to the apostles.  One has to wonder.

                What I hear in these words is, first: a comic reassurance, and second: a lesson in humility.  Hearing this, can’t you imagine Jesus nodding His head reassuringly, the turn of a sly grin curling the edges of His lips?  “You are worth more than many sparrows…” Yes, we are important to God, and yes God knows every hair on your head; and so, by golly, when things get rough, whether my world seems to be falling apart, or all my magnificent plans and efforts are crashing down around me, I just need to remember: Don’t be afraid. You’re worth more than many sparrows!!  

Of course, that begs the question: Oh, yeah!  How many? At 2 for a penny, we’d have to get up to fifty-one sparrows just to be worth more than a quarter! A hundred-and-one, to be worth more than a half dollar.  You can’t even ride Metro for a half dollar any more.  How is that for a lesson in humility?

Of course, I’m being silly here.  I think it would take at least 250 sparrows just to get from my house to I-10.  And if I needed a transfer –say to get downtown-- that would be another 200 sparrows.  Minimum. And that doesn’t cover return fare.  Plus, at this point, (450 sparrows; questions of aerodynamics arise…) with a harness and some twine you might be able to… never mind. 

Thinking about this passage, and the idea that Jesus might be employing a little humor, I began to realize another lesson we learn from Dante’s Divine Comedy.  The utter absence of humor among the damned.  It isn’t that the souls in Dante’s Hell have no time for humor, but that they make no place for it. The souls in The Inferno take their sin very seriously.  Dante never talks about this; he simply shows it.  As we read the poem and meet the different souls in Hell, what we meet are souls who have lost the ability to laugh at anything.  This is a situation I find myself in on occasion. I am dead set on some plan, some activity or some respite that I am claiming for my own. It is something I deserve. Or it is –for instance, becoming a deacon—my right. My vocation. God’s will for me! I want it and I deserve it.  When I am in that mindset, there is little chance of me laughing at anything that goes even slightly amiss. You might not hear me yell or see me punch the wall, but if my plans go awry, inside I will begin to stew and seethe. And I will be unable to laugh –not just at the situation, but at anything. I will refuse to.  And you know, having been in that situation before, I can tell you –it is Hell.  I grow hard and bitter inside and lose my way.  Because –and I think this is key—I am not important enough!  I want to be not just more important than… anything… at times like that, I want to be MOST important.  And that is exactly what we see lived out in Dante’s Hell.  The souls are all stuck wanting to be MOST important. And none of them can let go of their sin (their ego) long enough to laugh at themselves and their situation.  Sadly I have found myself living that Hell, too many times.  In fact, just now.  I am trying to write this. I want to write this. But, I am the only one awake and our two new kittens are begging for food. So, I stop and give them food. As I am setting it out for them our older cat comes looking for food, too. So, I put food out for him. Thinking, I will get right back to my writing.  But then I notice the kittens have knocked a tote bag on the flood and so I stoop to pick it up. Still thinking I am going right back to writing. But… as I pick it up I discover something is on the bag. One of these critters has peed on the bag and now cat pee is spilling everywhere.  And when I try to pour it into the trash the trash is overflowing and the pee spills down the side of the kitchen trash bin and now it is spread across the floor and over the side of the bin and maybe on the refrigerator and the tile floor to the washing machine and… and instead of getting bck to writing I am mopping the floor with paper towels and Windex.  And when my wonderful kind and always sweet daughter asks me what happened, instead of laughing at it all, I snap and murmur something bitter about cats and pee and tote bags and trash cans and laundry and...  So, yes! For me, this isn’t always easy.  Even when I am meditating on the Heavenly qualities of humility and humor, I can so quickly stumble and slip in the cat pee of my pridefulness, my need to feel MOST IMPORTANT.  And I think that is a very real kind of Hell.   

Clearly, this is a lesson Jesus is still trying to teach me: learn to laugh at yourself. A little humor and humility will go a long way in bringing about the Kingdom of God.  P.S. And –when you do the laundry, make sure to balance your load. Uh, oh. Time to check on that loud knocking coming from the washroom.