Assumptions and the aftermath: on Joshua 22:12

"At this news, the whole community of the Israelites

mustered at Shiloh, to march against them and

make war on them.” –Joshua 22: 12

Out of context, one might read this passage and assume that the Israelites are mustering to go to war against an enemy, perhaps some nation that has become an abomination before the Lord. But, in fact it seems to me, a perfect sign of what is to come for God’s chosen people: in-fighting, mistrust, suspicion and jealousy; the human condition (one might say).

Here, near the end of the book of Joshua, when the battles are finished, and all of the tribes have been allocated their land, one would imagine –expect, even—peace to reign, at least for a chapter or two.  However, almost immediately after the fighting stops as the tribes of Rueben, Gad and “the half-tribe of Manasseh” head home, they stop and build an altar (possibly in Gilgal). In reading the Torah (the first 5 books of the Bible) how many times have we seen the great figures from Israel’s history stop and build an altar of stones to honor God? To memorialize some victory? To remember some great, life-altering event? Abraham does it (cf. Gen 12:7 -8;13:18; 22:9) . Jacob does it (Gen 35:7). Moses builds one (Ex. 17:15). Heck, even Joshua does it (Joshua 8:30).  But now, when the rest of the tribes hear of this particular altar they muster at Shiloh and prepare to march against them because they find it suspicious and threatening. Here they are, finally settled after 40 years of wandering and fresh from the seemingly miraculous victories over their enemies, and what happens? They declare war not a pagan enemy, but on their own brothers (and sisters) who have just fought along side them to win them their homelands. Already in this nascent moment, the community of God’s people is crumbling.

As a prelude to war, the priest Phinehas is sent (with ten elders) to declare to these three (or 2 1/2) tribes their sin and to demand an answer:

“What do you mean by this infidelity, which you have

committed against the God of Israel…?” (cf. 22:16)

Phinehas asserts that this altar puts all of Israel in danger.  But the two and a half explain that Phinehas (and the others) have been rather rash in their judgment. This altar has been built not out of idolatry, nor infidelity, but out of fear that these others –the tribes that sent Phinehas, et al—might some day forget that the Reubenites and Gadites and half tribe of Manasseh too are children of Abraham, and say to them:

“What connection do you have with the Lord, God of Israel? Has not the Lord set the frontier of the Jordan between us and you, you Reubenites and Gadites. You have no share in the Lord.” (cf. 22:24-25)

They have built this altar as a witness for future generations, as a reminder that they too are a part of God’s people; they too have a stake in His blessing.  They have built it that they might point to it as an image of what they once stood near, as an assurance to future generations that they too “have a right to worship the Lord in His presence…” (22:27b)

            Oddly enough, nowhere in this story is there any mention of God’s approval or disapproval of the altar. The same God who was so precise and exacting in his directions to Moses for building a tent and an altar and special poles and bowls and tent cloths –even to the number of loops in the cloth—and who and when and where anyone could approach the altar-- doesn’t seem to have any opinion on this one.  So, I ask myself: what lesson are we to derive from this story? If it isn’t a lesson about altars and infidelity, then what is it? A lesson about trust? About faith? About rushing to judgment? About making assumptions? One side assumes the other is doing something sinful. The other side assumes that they will be forgotten. And neither side seems to remember God’s strangely reassuring words from Deuteronomy:

“It is not for your righteousness or for the uprightness of your heart that you are going to possess [this] land, but it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the LORD your God is driving them out before you.” (Deuteronomy 9:5)

But as we see again and again in scripture, that is the key mistake people make over and over. We assume it’s all about us. God is rewarding us because we deserve it, or God is punishing us because we deserve it. At least for me, it is always about me. My wife is mad because of something I did. My kids are sick because I’m a failure as a father. My poem got rejected because I’m no good as a writer. But as we see in the book of Judges, every time things seem to start going right, every time the Lord blesses His people with victory and protection and peace, they begin doing what is evil in the sight of the Lord. It happens so often that it becomes a kind of refrain. The main lesson I am hearing from this passage is: Don’t assume this all about you. And don’t assume you know all the facts. And don’t assume you know God’s will…  And don’t assume that just because God loves you, He approves of everything you do.  In fact, just don’t assume.

The Tranfiguration: 2nd Sunday of Lent

“…when they looked around, they saw no

one with them anymore but only Jesus.”

--Mark 9:8

Outside my window, the branches of the oak in our front yard are being transfigured –metamorphosing—from stark leafless twiggy things, seemingly lifeless, icons of loss and sorrow, into budding branches almost literally bursting with life.  Images of transfiguration are all around us. But often we either don’t see them or don’t know what to make of them.  We rush on to our next appointment unwilling to stop and stare and really see what is right before our eyes.  The blessing that rises before us.

Looking at the readings for this Sunday, I quickly read the Old Testament passage –Abraham and Isaac and the sacrifice—and rushed past the psalm and the reading from Romans to look at the Gospel. Eager to skip over the side dishes and get to the main course, I guess.  And when I saw that the reading from Mark was the story of the transfiguration, I thought: Oh, that’s why we have the Abraham story! Perfect! Yes. Both stories have mountains and both involve beloved sons and both involve some kind of change or revelation. I got that. Easy. I wonder what’s next week?

I was treating these familiar readings with too much familiarity. I was treating them the way one might treat an old stain on the wall, or your 851^st bowl of oatmeal, or your wife’s hair… I wasn’t really looking at it, wasn’t really noticing it. I wasn’t really paying attention. Yeah, it’s fine. Looks nice. Tastes like it always does… I guess.  How would I know? Unless I take the time to actually taste it, notice it, appreciate it.

When I teach poetry (this is definitely an aside) I like to share with students a piece of historical prose written by William Carlos Williams as a kind of introduction. The piece is called something like “The American Background,” and I first came upon it in Williams’s Selected Essays (pg. 134).  It is a brief observation (less than a page) about the early American settlers from England and their misidentification of a bird. Williams tells us that these early settlers saw a bird that looked to them like something they remembered from their homeland and they called the bird a robin. But (according to Williams) what they were looking at was a thrush –a larger bird, a bird of wilder song and that even landed differently. It was a totally different bird with only similar coloring.  But instead of looking at it and seeing that this was something new, something they had never experienced before –they fell back on their past, retreated to what they already knew and missed the actual: Nothing new here. Just a robin –seen one, seen ‘em all.  Let’s go find some gold.

Instead of seeing the truth perched on the branch before us, how often do we rush past not noticing the gift God has set before us? How often do we look at a thrush, but see only what we think is a robin –because that’s what we are expecting to see?  How often do we read a familiar story and hear only what we expect to hear –never really what is on the page, never letting ourselves hear the story fresh, engage it anew?

Beginning to wonder if maybe I’d missed something by seeing only the familiar, I went back to look at the psalm (and possibly I was feeling sorry for it –who pays attention to the psalms?).  I wondered what it might have to say about the theme of transfiguration.

I was first struck by the words:

“I believed, even when I said:

I am greatly afflicted.

Precious in the eyes of the Lord

Is the death of His faithful ones.” (116:10)

And instead of trying to make that mean something about the Gospel or the story of Abraham, I simply heard it and felt the words begin to take root in my soul. Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of His faithful ones… In the midst of a culture that measures success and the value of a life by the amount of comfort and pleasure experienced, and by the amount of pain and discomfort avoided it is very troubling to hear of such preciousness. One might even ask: If the faithful one is so precious to God, why doesn’t God save him?

            Next the psalm speaks of being God’s servant, of being set free by God (“you have loosed my bonds…”). And then the psalmist sings:

“To You I will offer sacrifice of thanksgiving,

I will call upon the name of the Lord…” (cf. 116:16-17)

And I began to contemplate –what does this mean to me? How is God speaking something new to me through these ancient words?  And it was in that time of contemplation that I began to understand being transfigured doesn’t just mean a change of appearance.  When Jesus is transfigured, Peter, James & John see Him in a new way. But it isn’t just that Jesus has changed in appearance. In this story, in that moment, the disciples get a glimpse of the Truth… they have the mystical experience of seeing Christ in the fullness of His being.  But Jesus isn’t the only one who is transfigured on that mountain. Peter, James & John come down the mountain changed, metamorphosed by the experience. And then I heard myself asking: What about Abraham? Who is transfigured in that story? On the one hand there is Abraham who is challenged to offer his beloved son as a sacrifice, and in his willingness to do whatever God demands of him, he is transformed from a man who follows God in order to receive a reward (wealth, land, generations of children, and a lasting memory) into a man who “fears the Lord” [not afraid the way someone might be afraid of ghosts or the dark or nuns with yardsticks, but more like awe or a sense of being devoted to God] (cf. Gen 22:12).   Okay, so on one level there is a change in Abraham’s relationship with God, but there is something else; something that reminds me of the changed disciples coming down from the mountain with Jesus.  They now understand Jesus in a new way. They have heard God’s voice from a cloud proclaim “This is My beloved son. Listen to Him.” (Mk 9:7)

Abraham goes up a mountain following a God capable of demanding human sacrifice, but he comes down serving a God who refuses such a sacrifice.  Abraham’s very understanding of God has been transformed –transfigured. God has revealed something new about Himself to Abraham and be so doing He has loosed the bonds of superstition and set Abraham free.  But this freedom is not a freedom to lick the earth, to seek comfort and pleasure wherever you will. It is a freedom to serve God, a freedom to submit to God’s gift of the law. A freedom to offer our brokenness and our sin, our death to our longings and desires, our selfishness, as the sacrifice we place upon the alter, our living sacrifice offered in Thanksgiving.

Open your Bible, climb the mountain (go out in your front yard) and offer God the sacrifice of your attention. Give yourself to God with a thankful heart. And don’t be afraid. Just open your eyes and let yourself see. Really see. And don’t be surprised if what you see is something you have never noticed before; you may just find yourself transfigured.

Driven into the wilderness: 1st Sunday of lent

“He was with wild beasts; and the

angels ministered to Him.”  --Mark 1:12-15

The spirit drove Him into the wilderness where He was tempted by Satan and He dwelt among wild beasts; and the angels ministered to Him.  Think about this: immediately after He is confirmed as the beloved Son of God, one upon whom God’s favor rests, Jesus is driven by “the spirit” into the wilderness away from His friends and family, His support network, and where he is surrounded by wild beasts and tempted by Satan.  Is that the vision we have of one who is beloved by God and upon whom God’s favor rests? What if Joel Osteen were suddenly found homeless, abandoned by his ministry team, and living on the streets of Houston? Would we say to ourselves: See! There goes a man who is beloved by God. There is someone upon whom God’s favor rests!? 

            But here is Jesus, driven into the wilderness almost as a confirmation of His status as the beloved Son of God.  And as I read it, I am reminded of Abraham who is chosen by God to be the father of His people, and to confirm his importance and his place in God’s plan, Abraham is  immediately sent away from his people and his family, his support network, his security blanket, to a foreign land where he will be vulnerable and dependent –in need of aid, of ministry. He will be a blessing to those who bless him (angels) and a curse to those who curse him (wild beasts). (cf Gen. 12:1-3)

            It must be some kind of sign: God wants us out of our safety zone. He will even drive us away –into the wilderness—to a place where we feel vulnerable and helpless, a place where we may even feel desperate (despairing), and it is there that His angels will minister to us.  And I wonder, is it only there that God’s angels will minister to us? Or is it only there that we will receive them?

            Are we not open or receptive to the angelic presence that is all around us constantly because most of the time we are too focused on our own achievements, our own efforts, our own glories and failures; our resources, our private gifts and treasures?  Do we need to find ourselves in a wilderness surrounded by wild beasts before we can realize we don’t have all the answers. We are not sufficient to all the challenges we face. I can’t do it all by myself!

            And only then, we become aware of the angels around us who come with their hands open and held out, offering help, offering aid, offering comfort –ministering to us in our hour of need. 

            Is it possible that to be beloved by God means one will be driven into the wilderness, among the wild beasts, and tempted, and that is where and how God prepares us to be minstered by His angels?  Only then are we ready; tried in the fire of need and weakness and vulnerability, tempted; and only then are we ready to receive His angels and only then are we ready to go out and proclaim with authority:

            The time is fulfilled. The Kingdom of God is at hand… (Mk 1:15)

Because only then will we speak from experience.