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Saturday, December 15, 2018

Let heaven and earth bear witness: 2nd Week of Advent


“...but the others offered no opposition;
not a stone was thrown, there was no
barricading of the hiding places.  They
only said: Let us all die innocent; let
heaven and earth bear witness...”
--1 Maccabees 2:36-37

This past Sunday was the second Sunday of Advent.  The reading from Luke’s gospel reminded us that Jesus was lived in a specific time –under Tiberius Caesar and Pontius Pilate and Ciaphas, et al.  And in Luke’s inimitable way he tells us that in this time of these powerful empires and celebrated leaders that the Word of God came not to a king or emperor or high priest, but to a nobody living in the desert, wearing animal skins and eating locust and honey.  God spoke not to the great in their temples and palaces, sitting on their thrones, but to the humble—to the nobodies. To a young girl living in Bethlehem and then to a crazy hermit living alone in the desert.  Why is that such an important part of this story?  Perhaps to remind us that if we want to hear God’s voice, we need to avoid the distractions that come with palaces and temples and throne rooms; that come with special greetings in the market place and honored places at the table.  Perhaps the author (Luke) is reminding us that God doesn’t work the way the world works.  God doesn’t measure value in the same terms that we use.  That what looks like success, like victory, to us isn’t necessarily success in the eyes of God.  And what looks like failure and loss to us isn’t necessarily either in the eyes of God.  For instance, I was thinking about these nameless figures from the book of Maccabees; they end up refusing to fight and are utterly destroyed by the Greek army sent to squash the Jewish revolt in Jerusalem.

When I read the description of their action, my first thought went to Gandhi and the non-violence movement, and I began to romanticize their choice, and I half thought they would be mentioned again in some celebratory terms... but so far, nada.  They simply showed up and died, and the rest of the story is about Judah and the other Maccabees and their improbable military victories against Greek army after army; yet, despite all their amazing victories what do we have in the end?  Because we read these stories in light of 2000 years of history, we read them in a light of ultimate loss.  We know that the book history has written is a history of how the Jews despite all their astonishing military victories, lost not only the temple and Jerusalem but their entire homeland; their self-rule; their autonomy; their freedom even and yet survived, and often thrived.  My ignorance of the 20th century history of Israel will remain in silence on this most recent chapter of their history, except to note that still Israel remains a land of uncertainty and strif

And so, I still wonder: what lesson is God teaching us by this group of unnamed souls who “offered no opposition,” who “died innocent” and allowed “heaven and earth [to] bear witness.”  What if the lesson of Maccabees isn’t that we are called to defend God and country with the sword; but that we are called to be innocent and offer no opposition (i.e. to turn the other cheek and offer no opposition to evil when it comes) and to allow heaven and earth to be witness to all that God wills for us.  If we submit to God’s will we may end up anonymous and forgotten in the eyes of the world. In the eyes of the world, we may seem to have been nobody of consequence, but...  
A last interesting element in this book of 1 Maccabees.  In chapter 9 we get a powerful vision of what the “heroism” of these warriors becomes.   In this chapter the Maccabean warriors attack a wedding procession escorting the bride and groom to the wedding feast.  Out of revenge, they strike and when they are done avenging their brother’s blood (and the theft of their own supplies), they take whatever loot they can and return to the “marshes of the Jordan” (9:42).   What does this sound like to our modern ear?  How often do we read and hear news reports of suicide bombings at weddings and in marketplaces? Wherever people might gather and let their guard down.  It sounds a lot like terrorism.  As if the author were --consciously or not—showing us what a mentality of war leads to: anything goes, the end justifies the means.  Was the attack justified?  To Jonathan and Simon (and their followers) it must have seemed so.  They needed supplies and they needed to send a message.  Don’t mess with us!  They needed to strike fear into some hearts and terror into some souls. And it didn’t matter that innocent lives might be lost.  Their cause was bigger than that.  They were fighting for God.

And so my mind turns once again to those people in the desert.  And I think of the others who have wandered in the desert, vulnerable and afraid: Abraham and Sarah, Hagar and Ishmael, Jacob, Moses, John the Baptist... Jesus... all who found themselves vulnerable and helpless; innocent and dependent on the witness of Heaven (and earth) to protect them.  

And I wonder...  What kind of witness am I giving?  When I lash out at someone who hurts my feelings? Or I gossip about a coworker or neighbor? Or I laugh at a crude joke? Or I fail to speak up when someone else is talked about or attacked?  How often am I afraid of the desert? The isolation of being seen as uncool... How often do I fortify my defenses or run and hide when I think trouble is coming? What if I listened to the example of those anonymous souls who said:  Let us all die innocent; let heaven and earth bear witness?  And I have to ask myself how can heaven and earth bear witness if I won’t let them?    

p.s.
as a writer I find a great lesson in how these people, mentioned very briefly, haunt the rest of the book.  Everything the warriors and kings do is somehow overshadowed by their humble non-violent witness...  Hmmm...  so many lessons.  I guess the Bible really is a "good" book.

Saturday, December 8, 2018

2nd Chronicles and the lesson of an interesting ending



“Cyrus, King of Persia, says this:

The Lord, the God of Heaven, has

given me all the kingdoms of the earth

and has appointed me to build Him a

Temple in Jerusalem, which is in Judah.

Whoever there is among you of all His

people, may his God be with him!
Let him go up.” 
--2nd Chronicles 36: 15


When I started my journey through the Bible, I was trying to write at least one post on every book, but over the past few months I’ve gotten off track.  Family trials and work and anniversaries, other writing[1] and daily life have gotten in the way at times.  I’ve been reading, but not writing as much.  And I have felt quite scattered; unfocused. Out of sorts.  And at times like I am making a mess of everything: starting the laundry, but forgetting to put it in the dryer; loading the dishwasher, but forgetting to start it –or forgetting to add soap; feeding the cats but forgetting about their litter box; intending to pray but allowing distractions to keep me distracted –scattered.  As the psalmist says: “...All doers of evil are scattered...” (92:9), and I certainly feel scattered –ineffectual-- even if I don’t feel evil (at the moment).

I think my habit of writing and posting meditations broke down around the time I was finishing 2nd Chronicles.  I couldn’t keep up with everything, but I kept reading. And occasionally I would write in my notebook—little comments and thoughts.  But by the time I was ready to write a post, I was in the middle of a new book or 3 books on and I wanted to write about that one instead and... despite everything getting out of sorts, I went ahead and started writing comments about whatever it was I was reading at that moment, for instance Nehemiah, or Tobit or Judith but something about 2nd Chronicles[2] kept troubling me.  And mostly it was the ending.

In the penultimate chapters (34-35), we meet the heroic figure of Josiah, a king who restores order and glory to Jerusalem.  Under his reign the Book of the Law (probably referring to Deuteronomy) is rediscovered (34:15) while the temple is being repaired. With the rediscovered law in hand, Josiah rededicates the people and renews the covenant with God.  He is a king of great zeal, intent on following the Lord. But just as suddenly there is the story of his odd death (35:19ff).  Necho, king of Egypt, is marching across Judah to advance against an enemy and Josiah goes out with an army to intercept him.  Necho tells Josiah that his quarrel is not with Judah. He has been commanded by God to march quickly against another foe; warning Josiah, “Do not interfere with God who is with me, as otherwise He will destroy you.” (35:21). But Josiah won’t listen.  I imagine he couldn’t believe that God would speak through the mouth of a pagan.  And because he ignores this warning, he suffers the consequences and is badly wounded and dies. His death is followed by a series of kings who do what is displeasing “in the eyes of the Lord.”  And in less than a chapter (36) we see the fall of Judah, the Babylonian Exile, and the return of the Jews to Jerusalem. The final paragraph tells the story of Cyrus, the new king of Persia, who sets the Jews free and sends them back to Jerusalem with orders to rebuild their temple.  The final words of the book are a command from Cyrus to set the Jews free.  Wow.  In the final pages of this history one pagan king speaks a warning from God, and another pagan king setting the Jews free and sending them home.  And I kept wondering: what is the author saying? What did the author intend by these two pagan kings? 

Then, I came across this interesting detail: 2nd Chronicles is the final book in the Hebrew scripture (the Tanakh).  Which means that the Hebrew “Bible” ends with stories of two pagan kings doing the work of God.  And again, I wonder: What does that mean? The last words in the Hebrew scripture are not from Moses or a prophet or a recalling of some piece of wisdom from Solomon or King David, but a proclamation from Cyrus of Persia: “Whoever, there is among you of all His people, may his God be with him! Let him go up.” (36:23)  Hmmm.  To me, that is interesting.

Regardless of what any human author intended, what does the REAL author of scripture mean by these two kings? What is God teaching us here?   Are they a lesson in tolerance? A lesson in humility?  A lesson in trust?  All three?  I wonder... (Wait a minute!  There are THREE kings: Cyrus, Necho & Josia...Hmmm. Three kings? Teaching us something?...sounds familiar... )

One thing is for certain: that the last words of the Hebrew scripture depict a pagan speaking a messianic message is pretty amazing... And definitely something worth contemplating. So, stay focused, Mr. Sutter. Don’t let yourself get distracted... Don’t be scattered...  the dishes will still be there in the morning.  

Lord,
Open our hearts to your word.
Give us the presence of mind and will
to remain with You in Your word.  Teach
me to listen as You speak, and inspire me
to live what You teach.

Amen.




[1] Working on some poems (3 were accepted for publication); and trying to get back to my novel... (Poor Dorothy is stranded at MytiBurger on Kempwood )
[2] And now I have read all the way to Maccabees and feel a need to write a word about...  Aargh. There is so much to contemplate and so little time to... fold laundry.... let alone sleep.

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Pilate and the act of listening: some thoughts on the Gospel for Christ the King Sunday


25 Nov 2018 –Christ the King

“Pilate said to Jesus:
Are you the King of the Jews?"
--John 18:33B-37


Often when we are in an uncomfortable situation, perhaps a debate about politics, perhaps sitting at the Thanksgiving table --your drunken uncle is singing the praises of the Republican party and your self-righteous niece is ranting about corrupt capitalists—often—in situations like this—I find myself only half listening to the people talking.  If am listening at all, it is not with curiosity or trying to understand, not to hear what they have to say, but to hear how and where they are wrong; if I am listening at all it is to hear a misstep, a fallacy, some weakness in their argument.  I am listening, watching for a mistake; a flaw in their logic or error in their data... And as soon as I hear one, I snatch it up like a fumbled football and take off running with it: 
Now, wait a minute!... You said!!... but that’s not!!!... anyway, NPR did a report and!!!!

It is a constant theme in the media today how Americans don’t listen to each other anymore.  We are a divided nation, and thanks to technology we are only getting more divided every day. We don’t want to hear different opinions; instead we want echo chambers that echo back to us our own opinions.  Instead of sincerely listening to different voices and seeking the truth wherever it may be found, we too often simply yell over each other in an effort to shut the other person down and declare ourselves the winner! 

And yet, reading Sunday’s Gospel from John, I thought—Hmmm... this sounds oddly familiar.  Divisiveness and an unwillingness to really listen –to really hear—is one of the major themes of all four Gospels.  We are constantly being presented with scenes where the truth of Jesus is heard or accepted by some figure and often soon after that unheard (and rejected) by another.  Usually the ones who hear are the weak and the vulnerable; the poor and the sick; Jesus is their last hope and they are desperate –they pay attention. They get it. Whereas the ones who don’t listen, who don’t hear the truth of Jesus’ message, who don’t recognize the witness of the miracles happening right before their very eyes; they are usually the powerful and the respected: i.e. the religious leaders and the governing powers.  They don’t hear because they don’t listen; they don’t really pay attention.  They aren’t coming to Jesus in search of the truth, or even in search of a miracle (except for that centurion and Jairus); they are coming to try and trick Him. To trip Him up.  To find a way to dismiss Him, His miracles and the donkey He rode in on!  They are comfortable with their place in society. They like their robes and their greetings in the market and their special places at the table; they have the upper hand, and they don’t want to lose it.  They don’t want anyone to rock the boat.  Don’t want anyone to challenge them or the system that gave them power. Because, as far as they can see, everything is fine just the way it is.

And doesn’t that describe a lot of us today?  I know that too often it describes me.  I am comfortable with my ideas, my notions, my system, and I don’t want anyone to rock the boat.  I see the world a certain way and I feel like everyone else should, too.  And if they don’t, there must be something wrong with them.

On some level Pontius Pilate –in this passage from John’s gospel—could be the icon for our age of unlistening; an icon of the incurious: the willfully blind and deaf. Reread the conversation he is having with Jesus.  He is doing the exact same thing the experts say we do.  If you want to feel convicted reread this passage and listen to the way Pilate talks to Jesus.  Think about it?  Is he really listening?  He asks questions, but does he really hear the answers?  Does he really care about the truth?  No. He simply wants to get it over with. He wants to extricate himself from a difficulty and troublesome situation.  So instead of listening, instead of trying to truly hear the other person (Jesus) he simply asserts his own power, dismisses the other person as a problem, and justifies the rightness of his own position. In other words, he doesn’t care about hearing the truth –he simply wants to win.  He treats the interview with Jesus not as an opportunity to learn something important (i.e. the Truth).  But, instead he treats it as a debate; mental Greco-Roman wrestling in a way; nothing but a civic annoyance that he must partake of before returning to the pleasures of his lifestyle (of the rich and famous)!

But, what if Pilate had actually listened to Jesus? What if instead of trying to extricate himself ASAP, he had asked Jesus to explain? Tell me about this kingdom that isn’t of this world? What do you mean by that? Could you elaborate?  Then, instead of ridiculing the very idea of “truth,” asked Him to explain how the truth had brought this itinerant Jewish teacher and healer to this moment? This place? The Praetorium? With a crowd demanding His death?  What if Pilate had taken a moment and considered: What kind of truth could spark such a flame?  Perhaps there was more to this man and more to the anger he stirred up than just jealousy and hurt feelings?  If Pilate had just taken the time to listen, if he had let himself be quiet for a moment and maybe let the answer sink in – even contemplated it before responding-- would Good Friday be remembered differently? Who knows—but, what is clear from this record of a conversation from around 33CE is that divisive societies and tone-deaf leaders are nothing new; nothing particular to our age.  Or to our politics.

I also see in Pilate an example of how not to read the Bible.  He approaches Jesus with his heart and his mind closed.  In his eyes, Jesus is a problem to be dealt with as quickly and easily as possible. With as little attention and effort as possible.  Read the Word of God with that attitude and you will find it unrewarding and frustrating and more than likely you will be glad to close the covers and never open it again. Consider Pilate...

But, if you open your eyes, open your heart and open your mind you will find that the Word is alive and each time you open the Bible you will find something new; a new facet, a new depth of truth, an image or an element that you never saw before.  The truths of the Gospels grow deeper and more profound every time I read them.  For instance, usually when I read this passage, I focus on Jesus and His resolve to be true to His mission –regardless of the results.  But this time, for some reason, Pilate and his questions caught my eye.  Opened my eyes. 

The next time I find myself acting a little too much like Pilate: defensive, feigning interest, looking for a way to dismiss them, I need to remember this lesson.  I need to remind myself to pay attention.  Listen.  This doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything everyone says.  But it does mean, I need to listen. I need to be vulnerable.  I need to hear what they are actually saying. Open my heart –like the weak and the vulnerable—and watch not for a chance to shut someone out, but for the opportunity of letting them in.  I need to make sure I’m not putting up walls but tearing them down. 

There is a lot we can learn sitting around the holiday table: about family, about friends, about differences and about sharing.  And remember, a conversation isn’t about winning, it’s about learning.  But, for that to happen –you have to open your heart. You have to be vulnerable.  You have to listen, and you have to hear.  And as you do –you just might find that you begin to recognize the person sitting next to you as something more than an annoying roadblock between you and more plum pudding! Look closely, listen deeply and you might even begin to see in them a glimmer of a kingdom... not of this world.