Grasping for things we do not understand; walking in ways we do not know--thoughts on the Wrath of God

“And scarce do we guess the things on earth,

and what is within our grasp we find

with difficulty; but when things are in Heaven

who can search them out?”
–Wisdom 9:13-18

 

Something that I often struggle with is the idea of the “wrath of God.”  And as I read through the book of Jeremiah, it is a phrase that comes up quite a bit. I guess that is true of most of the prophets.  Even the tender-hearted Isaiah, with his beloved “suffering servant” imagery, gets worked up with the wrath of God more than a few times.  The imagery, the language, the concept even of the “wrath of God” is frightening.  The idea of an all-powerful being enraged at something we have done, is pretty fearful.  And yet, I keep going back to the ultimate truth about God, that God is Love.  And knowing that, makes me wonder… Just what exactly is “the wrath of God?”  As the book of Wisdom reminds us, we can barely understand what is within our grasp, but things of Heaven –like the wrath of God—who can search them out?

 

But we can ponder; what makes sense? What could it all mean? As I pray and contemplate over this troubling image, it occurs to me that the wrath of God may not be some divine emotional state, or state of mind, but could be a poetic way of describing something quite different.  What if this language was the human author’s attempt to understand something that was witnessed, an attempt to make sense of it after the fact?  The facts were that Israel kept straying from God, the poor were abused, widows and orphans neglected, foreign gods were honored, priests were corrupt, and the king even worse; then suddenly there were the Babylonians knocking at the gate, slaughtering people, dragging others away into captivity.  If you are supposed to be God’s chosen beloved people, how do you make sense of that? 

 

What happened?  Why didn’t God protect His people, His beloved Jerusalem?

 

Trying to make sense of it, perhaps the easiest explanation is: God is made at us! His wrath has descended upon us like a hurricane! And that must be what it felt like.

 

But the thing that is interesting to me is how often God sends a warning, sends a message to Israel to turn back. To change directions.  The prophets are the best example of that.  They are sent to call God’s people back to the right path.  To change their ways, and act with justice and mercy.  And –it seems to me—that every time the wrath of God comes, it is because God’s people “have refused to listen” (cf. Jer.29:19).  It is the result of the people’s actions, their choices. Their own stubbornness of heart.

 

And so, perhaps God’s wrath (or anger) is not an emotion that overcomes God, the way we might think of a human emotion; something that flashes up suddenly out of rage or frustration.  I wonder if a better way to think of it is as a way of understanding what happens when we turn away from God, from God’s love. Like walking out of the sunlight and into a dark cave. As we walk into the cave, at first there is some light, and we can see the path, the walls, shadows, the edges of rocks. But the further we go into it, the darker it gets. The more confusing it gets. The blinder we become to what is around us… until it is pitch black and we cannot see our way. We cannot find the walls without banging into them.  Outside the cave someone stands calling to us: Don’t go in. Turn around. You’ll get lost.  That is the voice of the prophets.  The darkness within the cave is what we call the wrath of God—but it isn’t a positive thing, an action of God, it is the absence of God. It is what happens to us, in us, when we turn away from God.  I guess what I am saying is, in a sense, that sin is its own punishment. 

Another aspect that we can't forget is: the story of Job.  To Job's friends it looked like Job was suffering from the wrath of God. Retribution or punishment for some sin or some failing.  But, in actuality Job was being invited into a deeper relationship with God.  What seemed like "wrath" was --in some sense-- an invitation.  Gird up your loins, know me better man... to paraphrase the author of Job and the ghost of Christmas present...  I read scripture through the lens of love, always looking for the love of God and how it is being revealed.  That is my lens, and maybe it is a cloudy one.  But it is mine. In case you couldn't tell.

But these are just thoughts about something that truly is too big for me, beyond my grasp. Someone who has a lot more grasp of the Hebrew language and the history of OT scripture is the prophet like scholar Abraham J. Heschel (1907-1972).  His book, The Prophets is an inspiring and thought-provoking study of the OT prophets, that explores such questions as the pathos and the wrath of God and what it means to be a prophet.  (His take on the wrath of God is different from mine, and probably more on target... But, I had to try.)  I highly recommend his book; it is filled with wisdom, insight and an intense sense of the urgency of seeing and bearing witness to the truth.

 

    Lord, open my eyes to Your Word

    that I might read it more clearly;

    Open my ears to Your Word

    that I will hear You more completely,

    and open my heart to Your Word

    that I will be filled with the Love

    that is always found there.

    Amen

Make a straight path--some thoughts on Hebrews 12 (21st Sunday in Ordinary Time)

“So strengthen your drooping hands and your weak
knees. Make straight paths for your feet, that

what is lame may not be disjointed but healed.”

--Hebrews 12:12-13

 

The voice of one crying in the wilderness: make straight the way…  When I hear this phrase, I always think of John the Baptist and the baptism of our Lord (cf. Mk 1:3; MT 3:3, etc).  I always imagine a bony finger pointing toward the desert, or a raging fist shaking against the horizon, and a prophetic cry to clear the way—God is coming!   For me, this image usually comes with locust and honey and a scraggly beard.  But today as I was studying the mass readings for this Sunday (21^st Sunday in Ordinary Time), I suddenly heard something new in the text.  I didn’t hear a warning, or a challenge, I heard a kind of invitation, and a curious note of compassion; concern for the traveler.  And that opened my eyes and my ears to see and hear this image in a new way. A way touched by concern not just for the honor and glory of God, but also for those who struggle with their faith journey, for those who may stumble along the way.

 

Before I go any further, let me say a word about the Letter to the Hebrews.  First, we do not know who the author was, though some have speculated it was written by Paul or one of his followers.  Second, though it is often called the Letter to the Hebrews, scholars now refer to it not as a letter, but as a sermon.  And last, it is one of the most influential “letters” of the New Testament, a powerful influence on both Christian theology and the liturgy of the church.  This is the book that develops the theology of Jesus as high priest, and employs the visionary image of the community of believers as a “cloud of witnesses.” If you have never read it, I highly recommend you set aside a little time and read it through.  It can easily be read in one sitting—probably less than an hour.  You will find it an inspiring book, reverberating in your soul long after you finish; perhaps the rest of your life.

 

I don’t have anything profound to say about this verse, only that I was deeply touched by the way it brought together the prophetic call to make a straight way with the detail of an injury.  It humanized the call for me, and made it personal.  That concern for weak knees and drooping hands, speaks to my heart.  I often feel exhausted in both my faith life and my family life (forget about work).  And so, that call to renew my strength and to be careful and avoid turning a minor injury into something worse, made me stop and think.  This verse, this prophetic cry, it has a real life application.  When we are feeling overwhelmed, weak, exhausted, we need to be careful, to give ourself grace, and let our strength be renewed, so that we can continue our journey.  What I hear in this is good coaching. It is a word of encouragement wrapped around some good advice:  You can do this.  It isn’t going to be easy, but you got this.  Be careful. Pickup your feet, and take it slow and steady. Walk a straight path and you won’t get lost, and it will be easier on your knees. Don’t overdue it or start walking just any which way. That’s how you got hurt in the first place and that’s how you make things worse: you’ll end up disjointed.

 

Yes. But I also hear the coach telling me—this isn’t just about you!  Make a straight path.  Others will follow. You don’t want to lead them into the ditch or out into the wilderness. Just walk the straight path; and know that with every step you take will make it that much easier for the person behind you. That straight path in the wilderness that Isaiah and John the Baptist proclaimed, was a prophecy of the coming of the messiah.  But in the light of Jesus’s life and sacrifice, it becomes a prophetic call to live that path, to become that path of kindness and compassion, to live a life of hope and peace and simplicity and love for your neighbor—even the ones you don’t know or notice. What I am hearing is this: the straight path isn’t a geographic or geometric line, it is a line that runs straight through every human heart. Walk that line. Walk that path with care not just for yourself and your reputation, but with concern and compassion for those that walk with you and those who will come after you.  Make straight the path not just for the sake of your own weak and crackly knees, but for the sake of those who will come later, with their own infirmities and injuries, souls who may find themselves struggling in ways I could never imagine.

 

What I hear most decidedly is a call to clear away every obstacle you can, that those who follow will find a path clear and straight and smooth and paved with love.

A Christmas box from a friend

 “…one gift replacing another…”

--John 1:16

 

Gift giving has been on my mind lately.  Tis the season, you know.  In particular, I have been thinking about this one friend of ours who has sent us a gift box every year for the past –almost 30 years it seems.  She was a friend of mine in college, and over the years we have kept in touch by phone and mail, but our lives have gone off in their different directions. After college she moved back to Denver. She married, has 3 grown sons and a daughter. My wife and I are godparents to her daughter and she is godmother to one of ours. Like most people, we keep in touch by phone call and Facebook and letters, and remind each other how much we are loved. But, Barb is different from most friends.  She takes this whole friendship thing to another level.  And it includes gift-wrapping!  Every year just before Christmas she sends us a rather large box (or two--sometimes) filled with wrapped presents.  And when I say filled, I mean filled. She sends us a box full of presents; multiple presents for each member of the household. Books, toys, jewelry, clothing, candy, kitchenware, herbs from her garden. I think she even sent the cats a present one year. Each gift is wrapped and labeled, often with a silly note. And, keep in mind, she’s been doing this without fail for almost 30 years now. Some of the presents are silly, but some are beautiful, and so perfect—they seem like gifts from God. 

 

For instance, a couple of years back she gave me a black plastic fountain pen. It came in a goofy retro ‘50s packaging and looked like it was something she may have just tossed in at the last minute—thinking: Herman likes to write. He might have fun with this. And yet, it quickly become my favorite pen—and now, I do all my writing with it.  I think it may have even changed the way I write! The pen seemed to be filled not with ink, but with words, with ideas, with poems, with inspiration. But, I guess what it was actually filled with was love.

 

We joke sometimes about it, but it has become a part of our Christmas that we all look forward to. Not the presents themselves as much as the box! It has become for us a sign of Christmas, of the promise of Christmas. Has the box from Barb arrived yet?

 

There have been years when her gifts were just about the only presents under our tree.  And though we have on occasion reciprocated with boxes of biscotti and books and crafts and other homemade items, we have never met her level of generosity, nor have we ever been as regular and timely.  Yet still, regardless of our efforts, every year, the box from Barb arrives and on Christmas morning we open it with delight.  Her generosity, her constant and abundant generosity came to mind as I was thinking about this phrase from the beginning of John’s Gospel.

 

“…one gift replacing another…”

 

In other translations it reads something like “grace in place of grace already given…” or “grace upon grace.” Gift upon gift… Whichever translation, I hear in it a statement of overflowing abundance and generosity.  A vision of God’s love; a seemingly bottomless box of personally wrapped presents poured forth again and again! As soon as we open one gift, we find another. And if we aren’t happy with that, there is one more and one more after that.

Reading God’s word, I hear not a message of judgment and warning, so much as a message of love and generosity.  Again and again, the prophets remind us of God’s tender love for His creation.  They remind us again and again of His seemingly endless mercy and the abundance of His grace, His love for His creation. Each time we fail, we stumble and fall, He is there to lift us up and offer us again some new sign of His love, always replacing one gift with another, one grace with another, one covenant laid over another.  Until finally He gives Himself wholly and utterly into our hands. Taking upon Himself all our sins—our stumbles and falls, our rejection of His many gifts—He becomes the gift itself. Unexpected, undeserved, He is the gift.

 

Like that box from Barbara, that box overflowing with gift upon gift, God’s love comes to us grace upon grace and here at Christmas we are called to come together in joy over the abundance of God’s love.  It comes to us again and again, renewed again and again in great and small ways alike—even in the simplest and humblest gifts, individually wrapped and waiting for us to open with delight.  It may look like a Pez dispenser or a bookmark or a box of tea, a pair of socks, or even a newborn baby in a borrowed manger. Thank you Barb for helping me remember, the gift is always love.

She is the Book of God's Wisdom--the feminine generosity of God's love

“She is the book of God’s commandments…”

--Baruch 4:1

She is.  In Hebrew literature, wisdom is depicted as feminine, referred to as “she.” And the first question I always stumble over is: why? Why would a patriarchal society depict this essential quality as feminine? There are those who argue that it is simply a figure of speech, like calling a car or a ship “she.” But, throughout much of the wisdom literature she is not only referred to with a feminine pronoun, but also with feminine traits, feminine attributes. As far as I can tell from my brief research, there isn’t an answer, but only speculation. But, for me the question itself seems so much more important:  Why? What did this patriarchal society see in the feminie that conformed to their archetype of wisdom?  Was it simply that they had seen too many men behave like fools? Too many men, kings, judges, priests, rabbis, merchants and even shepherds had made it utterly clear that wisdom wasn’t something that came easily to men?

I don’t know. But, in my own foolishness, I like to think about it.

And speaking of foolishness, here is a brief reflection on this passage.  First, Baruch is one of the Deuterocanonical books in the Catholic and Orthodox Bibles, but not a part of the canon in Protestant or Jewish scripture. It is a prophetic work attributed to Jeremiah’s secretary, Baruch (app. 580 BC), though some scholars think it was actually written by an anonymous author in the first century. 

Now, back to that She who is the book of God’s commandments. This phrase comes near the end of a lengthy passage on the foolishness of Israel.  In ironic and sometimes bitter terms, the author dwells on Israel’s rejection of wisdom, in fact her almost complete ignorance of her ways.  “Nothing has been heard of her in Canaan, nothing has been seen of her in Teman…” (3:22) and no one seems to know her path.  The prophet tells the people, look around! You want to know why you were conquered and dragged off to Babylon?  Because you have “forsaken the fountain of wisdom!” And what is that fountain? The book of God’s commandments! The Word of God. The Law!  Israel is suffering in exile because she rejected the Law.  And –as we see time and again in the books of the prophets—to reject the Law of God is to choose exile; it is the path of foolishness.  God’s law is love, mercy, justice; to reject it is to dwell in anxiety and fear and isolation. A permanent state of pandemic, if you will!

So, how do we return from exile?  How do we find Wisdom? Open the book! She is the book of God’s commandments.  For us, today, we look at our Bibles and we might wonder, who can read all that? And where do you start?  For me, it was page 1; Genesis 1. But, for some, it might be easier to start with a psalm (open your Bible right at the middle and you will probably find yourself in the Psalms).  Or maybe you want to read one of the Gospels first. Mark is the shortest.  But, no matter what—open your Bible; just open the book. She is there; in fact, she is the book. She dwells there in the revelation of God’s loving presence; a wisdom beyond any you could imagine.

Lost in my Covid anxieties and distracted by movie making, I missed a few book of the Bible as I was reading my way through the prophets. I want to go back and pick up a few of these as I go. This is the first of one of those looks back.

I think one of the things God’s word teaches us, is to stop being so distracted. Be attentive, be present to the moment.  As Christ reminds us in Matthew, don’t worry about tomorrow. There is enough of life today, if only you will live it. 

This morning, a man and his wife were walking past as I sat on the porch. I waved, and they waved back. And then I noticed them pausing, and overheard him telling her,

“He’s that guy! The one who walks and reads at the same time.”

So, I got up and walked over to say hello.  As I came up, the man asked me,

“What do you have there?”

And I looked down to see I was still holding a couple of pages of poetry from a friend. I had been lingering over them as I sipped my coffee. As I started to tell them what it was, I heard his wife exclaim:

“Oh Lord, he loves poetry! You should see the shelves of books he’s got!”

And suddenly, on a Sunday morning, here I was standing at the curb talking with an almost stranger about something we both hold so very dear.  And I wondered: Does this happen to anyone else? I love this life. I love the way the squirrels leap about my lawn. I love the way the sunlight looks on the green of the leaves. I love the sudden comforting breeze on a July afternoon. And I love the way strangers become friends. 

Less than an hour later, this couple drove up in front of our house and the man got out of his can and handed me a book from his shelf, some poetry he loves and wanted to share. 

And that seemed to me a revelation of its own.  We don’t hoard or hide the things we truly love. We share them. Maybe that is how God feels about His law. In fact, maybe that is the heart of His law: the golden rule, so to speak.  Be generous. Is that what it means to be wise? That beautiful generosity of self-giving? Kind of like a mother's love?  In my foolishness, that’s another one of those things that I wonder about.