December 20 -- The Lord is my Shepherd

This week's lectionary texts: Micah 5:2-5a, Luke 1:47-55 or Psalm 80:1-7, Hebrews 10:5-10, and Luke 1:39-45.



Candy canes are omnipresent at this time of year, whether they're decorating Christmas trees, tucked into stockings, or handed out by Santas at the mall. But where did this delicious seasonal treat come from? According to one legend, the choirmaster of a German cathedral in the 17th century passed out sticks of sugar candy bent into the shape of shepherd's crooks to keep noisy youngsters occupied during Christmas services. More than 300 years later, candy canes are still a hit!

Shepherds, of course, are found throughout the Bible and in Christian imagery. The word "pastor" comes from the Latin pastorem, "to shepherd." Perhaps the most famous of all the psalms, Psalm 23 begins, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul...your rod and your staff -- they comfort me" (Psalm 23:1-4).

Jesus himself calls himself a shepherd in the Gospel of John, saying,

"I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd." (John 10:14-16)

This week's lectionary texts offer further reflection on the idea of relating God to a shepherd. As the prophet Micah exclaims, Bethlehem -- previously an unremarkable, small town -- would be the birthplace of the new ruler of Israel. Micah writes, "And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace" (Micah 4:4-5).

Meanwhile, the psalmist also utilizes the imagery of a shepherd to pray for the restoration of God's people. "Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel," he pleads, "you who lead Joseph like a flock!" (Psalm 80:1). Unlike in Micah's triumphant prophecy, the psalmist is expressing dismay: dismay that he and his people are "the scorn of our neighbors" (Psalm 80:6).

It seems that the psalmist is incredibly frustrated -- his people are in need of guidance and protection. That is, they are in need of a shepherd: someone to lead them through the harsh challenges of life and bring them lasting peace.

In Luke's gospel, the shepherds are the first to hear the glad tidings of the birth of Jesus. And Jesus, as previously noted, called himself a shepherd. So we can sometimes forget that shepherds were not exactly highly regarded in ancient times. They were often viewed as rough and dirty; they were constantly on the move and didn't have much money. Their lives revolved around their flocks.

At first glance, then, it might seem strange for Christianity to associate God with a shepherd. Surely, the creator of the universe ought not be compared to someone as seemingly unsophisticated as a person who herds sheep for a living? But the God we worship is all about overturning expectations and rooting for the underdog -- Jesus stands up for the oppressed and the powerless.

As Mary elucidates in Luke, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior...[God] has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:46, 52-53).

We live in a society where independence and individualism are highly prized. It can be hard to think that perhaps we are indeed in need of the guidance of a shepherd -- someone to show us the way when we feel uncertain, or to watch over us when we feel afraid. And God has certainly gifted us with free will, unique personalities, and the ability to create our own triumphs and make our own mistakes. But this Advent, let us also consider how wonderful it is that God is so full of surprises -- assuming and transforming the role of a previously scorned profession and shaking up the status quo, all out of God's infinite love for us.

Sources:

American Bible Society, "Shepherds"

Garrison, Webb. Treasury of Christmas Stories. Nashville: Rutledge Hill Press, 1990.


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December 13 -- The Promise of Peace

This week's lectionary texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20, Isaiah 12:2-6, Philippians 4:4-7, and Luke 3:7-18.

This famous peace symbol was created in 1958 by Gerald Holtom, a British textile designer and conscientious objector during World War II. He created the symbol by combining two semaphore flags: N and D, standing for "nuclear disarmament." Now, more than fifty years after the peace symbol was invented, it still remains incredibly familiar and widely used.

This week's lectionary texts speak to us in a number of ways about the promise of peace. They tell us of the rejoicing that there will be when God's peace descends on the world, but also make clear that we are not to simply wait for peace to come to us: we must help to bring peace to our planet.

The prophet Zephaniah offers an exuberant call to praise, reminding his listeners to remember the victory and peace that God shall bring to them:

"Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away the judgements against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more." (Zephaniah 3:14-15)

God promises to restore God's people, explains Zephaniah, renewing them in love. Moreover, writes the prophet, God will pay special attention to the weakest and least powerful: "And I will save the lame, and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth" (Zephaniah 3:19).

Isaiah offers a similar reflection on God's goodness, writing, "Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation" (Isaiah 12:2). God can be counted on; God will not forget God's promises to save and renew God's people.

Isaiah's words are full of beautiful imagery and calls to rejoicing: "With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation...Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously...Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion" (Isaiah 12:3, 5-6).

Zephaniah and Isaiah both are prophets, bringing the promise of God's redemption and peace to suffering people. Their words are filled with excitement and joy. But the words of John the Baptist in this week's passage from Luke seem far more sober. John, speaking to the men and women who have come seeking baptism, likely startles them by exclaiming, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance" (Luke 3:7-8). John seems to be warning that no one is exempt from the call to carry out good deeds and repent from sin.

John then proclaims a message of generosity and peace, telling his followers that they ought to share their clothing and food, be honest in their dealings with one another, and refrain from extortion (Luke 3:11-13).

But not all of what John has to say about peace is warm and fuzzy. Speaking about the coming of Christ, he warns, "He will baptize you with the Holy Sprit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire" (Luke 3:16-17). And we also read in Zephaniah, perhaps troublingly, that God is coming as "a warrior who gives victory" (Zephaniah 3:17).

What does it mean that we are called to live as peaceful people, but that we also read that God can be portrayed as a warrior, or as someone who will burn the chaff with "unquenchable fire"? Perhaps the authors of these texts want us to know how strongly God hates injustice and oppression, and realized that intense, even warlike imagery is the best way to get that message across.

Whatever the case -- and however much we may struggle with what it means to try to bring about God's peace in a world fraught with seemingly never-ending violence and injustice -- the words of Paul in Philippians offer powerful reflection on the power of peace:

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:4-7)

In the fifty years since Gerald Holtom invented the now ubiquitous peace symbol, the number of nuclear weapons has peaked, and then fallen. But there are still over 30,000 nuclear warheads on this planet, to say nothing of the countless other weapons, wars, and scourges of poverty and famine. This Advent, let us remember that God has not only promised us peace through Jesus Christ, but has called each of us to actively work for a peaceful and just world in whatever ways we can.

For more information about the peace symbol, see this article.

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December 6 -- Prophetic Words

This week's lectionary texts: Baruch 5:1-9 or Malachi 3:1-4, Luke 1:68-79, Philippians 1:3-11, and Luke 3:1-6.

In the New Testament, Christians are told that they have all been blessed with particular spiritual gifts by God. These gifts include the ability to teach, to lead, to be compassionate, to minister, and to be wise. While Christian denominations disagree about whether or not some of these gifts are still granted to followers of Christ -- speaking in tongues, for example -- most of us could name people we believe have been granted gifts like compassion or leadership.

But prophecy, listed as another gift of God in Romans 12:6 and 1 Corinthians 12:10, is probably not given much thought by contemporary Christians. Fortune cookies or magazine horoscopes may be as close as we get to anything resembling prophetic wisdom. But such things are just pale shadows of the powerful prophecies we find in this week's lectionary readings.

The prophetic book of Malachi, likely written in the 5th century BCE, offers us a glimpse of God's coming messenger:

"See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight -- indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts." (Malachi 3:1)

But Malachi warns that the coming of this messenger -- who can be interpreted as Christ -- will not be an easy one. "Who can endure the day of his coming," asks the prophet, "And who can stand when he appears?" (Malachi 3:2).

Indeed, explains Malachi, this messenger is coming for the purpose of redemption: "For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness" (Malachi 3:2-3).

This emphasis on purity is echoed in Philippians, as Paul urges the Philippian church to stay strong and continue to share the gospel. Paul's opening words to the congregation are beautiful and tender; "I thank my God every time I remember you," he writes, expressing his gratitude that the men and women there "hold [him] in [their] heart" (Philippians 1:3, 7).

Having praised their good works, he adds, "And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God" (Philippians 1:9-11).

With this single sentence, Paul redirects the Philippians' attention to the prophesied second coming of Christ, urges them towards righteousness, and reminds them that the proper response to the life of Christ is love and an effort to grow in wisdom.

Finally, our two readings from Luke give us two additional prophecies about Jesus. John the Baptist, referencing Isaiah, proclaims, "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight...All flesh shall see the salvation of God" (Luke 3:4, 6).

And Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, becomes filled with the Holy Spirit, and announces,

"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel...He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets of old...And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins" (Luke 1:68-69, 76-77).

Zechariah's impassioned prophecy ends by expounding upon the righteous deeds that will be done by this messiah: "By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace" (Luke 1:78-79).

This last line of Zechariah's prophecy, I would argue, is what this week's texts are all pointing towards: the prophesied arrival of Jesus, God and man, who is coming to redeem and purify, liberate and save, and be in loving relationship with every single person.

Christ's coming is not gentle or safe -- it upturns the status quo. His arrival means that the weak need no longer fear the strong, the oppressed remain bound, or sinners feel crushed by their sins. The prophecies we read about him in this week's texts underscore his radical love and righteousness.

Prophecy is not often discussed in many of our churches, but this week's powerful passages are an excellent reminder that the Bible is filled with life-giving and earth-shaking prophecies about the Messiah -- and perhaps a call for us to stop and listen for the messages that God may be giving us today.

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November 29 -- Holy Waiting

This week's lectionary texts: Jeremiah 33:14-16, Psalm 25:1-10, 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13, and Luke 21:25-36.



I've always had something of a sweet tooth. So two days after Halloween, I stopped by my local CVS to see if I could pick up some discounted treats, but I was far too late: the shelves were already stocked with piles of red, green, and white candy.

From store displays to advertisements, one could easily get the sense that Christmas is right around the corner, even though we haven't even celebrated Thanksgiving yet! There often seems to be a crazy rush to plan holiday parties, bake piles of cookies, and buy, buy, buy. We take it for granted that the weeks leading up to Christmas are supposed to be frantic and breathless.

But the season of Advent -- which begins the new liturgical year -- offers us a different model. Advent is a time of waiting, of expectation, of hope, a period in which we are encouraged to withdraw from frenzied consumerism and overcommitments and remember just what it is we are really preparing for: the birth of Christ.

The lectionary readings for this week, which marks the first Sunday of Advent, help to center us in a new mindset, one that forces us to slow down and remember what God has done and will do. Jeremiah writes, in words that can be interpreted to foretell the coming of Christ,

"The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which is will be called: 'The Lord is our righteousness.'" (Jeremiah 33:14-16)

The words of the prophet encourage us that our waiting is not in vain; the Messiah whose birth we await is a righteous God.

The psalmist, too, speaks of the importance of waiting, beseeching God, "Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long" (Psalm 25:4-5). Here, drawing inspiration from the psalmist, we can use this time of holy waiting to deepen our walk with God, to seek new insights through prayer and the reading of scripture, and to love God by serving others. These weeks of waiting are a gift: a dedicated period in which to strengthen our relationship with God as we wait for the birth of God's son.

But somewhat disconcerting is this week's passage from Luke, in which Jesus foretells the coming of the Son of Man, when "people will faint from fear and foreboding of what it coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken" (Luke 21:26). Jesus exhorts his disciples, "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly...Be alert at all times" (Luke 21:34, 36).

If Advent is a time of waiting and preparation for the birth of Jesus, this emphasis on Jesus's second coming might seem out of place. But being reminded that Jesus has said that he will come again helps us to remember that God continually calls us to faithful waiting, whether we anticipate a newborn savior or a mighty king -- and God keeps God's promises.

Jesus himself urges us to cast aside our worries and bad habits, and refocus our attention on living our lives in service and love. We don't know exactly what is coming: God has a way of overturning out expectations. Who, after all, would have predicted that the creator of the universe would come to earth as a helpless baby? But as we begin the season of Advent, these passages urge us to extricate ourselves from the hubbub of pre-Christmas busyness, and, in a spirit of peace, pause to ponder the mysteries, promises, and majesty of God.

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November 25 -- Christ the King

This week's lectionary texts: 2 Samuel 23:1-7 or Daniel 7:9-10 and 13-14, Psalm 132 or Psalm 93, Revelation 1:4b-8, and John 18:33-37.



When I was a child, I attended a school called Christ the King. Despite my grade school's name, however, I can't remember spending much time in religion class talking about Christ's royal attributes; much more emphasis was placed on the idea that Jesus was our friend, or our brother, or our shepherd.

But this week's lectionary passages draw our attention to the numerous places in the scriptures where Christ or God are described in regal, noble, majestic language.

Psalm 93 emphasizes God's ancient and unsurpassable power:

"The Lord is king, he is robed in majesty; the Lord is robed, he is girded with strength. He has established the world; it shall never be moved; your throne is established from of old; you are from everlasting." (Psalm 93:1-2)

The prophetic book of Daniel offers a startling vision of a new ruler:

"As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne, his clothing was white as snow, and the ahir of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire." (Daniel 7:9)

The vision continues, with Daniel reporting the resplendent arrival of an ostensibly human figure:

"I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed." (Daniel 7:13-14)

The author of Revelation, writing at least 250 years after the composition of the book of Daniel, makes reference to the prophet's words when expounding upon the glory of Jesus Christ, who he calls "the ruler of the kings of the earth" (Revelation 1:5):

"To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him, and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail." (Revelation 1:5-7)

And 2 Samuel, purporting to relate the final words of King David, offers a brief reflection on the ways in which rulers can learn from God, the ruler of all:

"The God of Israel has spoken, the Rock of Israel has said to me: One who rules over people justly, ruling in the fear of God, is like the light of morning, like the sun rising on a cloudless morning, gleaming from the rain on the grassy land." (2 Samuel 23:3-4)

There is clearly something to be said for describing God and Christ as kings or rulers. Such images convey the enormity of the power of the divine; they also emphasize God's ability to protect God's people, or to bring about justice and righteousness. When we see God or Jesus portrayed as a king, we are reminded of the fact that we do not rule the world, and we cannot always get our own way.

At the same time, descriptors like "king" can be problematic. We risk transforming God into a distant ruler, mighty but detached, unconcerned with human affairs. Or we may come to associate God with the world's fallible human leaders, which can be particularly destructive for those men and women who have lived under oppressive regimes. Moreover, calling God a king can serve to reify the traditional view of the divine as exclusively male.

So it's interesting to read in this week's passage from John the unique response given by Jesus to the accusation that he considers himself the King of the Jews:

"My kingdom is not from this world," he tells Pilate. "So you are a king?" Pilate presses. But Jesus only replies, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." (John 18:36-37)

It almost seems as though Jesus himself is a bit uncomfortable with the notion that he is a king -- and he certainly does not consider himself a king in the same way as earthly kings. For Jesus, relationships and restoration were more important than titles and honors.

Ultimately, then, images of God and Christ as king can draw our attention to the majesty and glory of the divine, but we must take care to balance them with the other powerful images we draw from scripture: companion, redeemer, brother, and friend.


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November 15 -- The End?

This week's lectionary texts: 1 Samuel 1:4-20 or Daniel 12:1-3, 1 Samuel 2:1-10 or Psalm 16, Hebrews 10:11-25, and Mark 13:1-8.

Chances are that if you've been watching the news or keeping an eye on pop culture over the last few months, you've seen references to the year 2012 (or the forthcoming movie named for that year). A number of doomsday scenarios have sprung up around the (only partially true) notion that one of the calendars of the ancient Mayans ended in December 2012. Others have suggested that 2012 might see the earth swallowed by a black hole, or set on a collision course with another planet.

Such scenarios they are almost certainly the products of overactive imaginations; you'd be lucky to find a scientist -- or a contemporary Mayan -- who seriously believed that the world would end in 2012.

But humans seem to have always been intrigued by the notion of the end of the world. Christianity -- as well as Judaism and Islam -- carries with it the notion of the end of time. Theologians and authors disagree about the nuances of eschatology -- what exactly does it mean to say that Jesus will come again, or that there will be a final judgment?

This week's lectionary texts intriguingly explore these ideas without giving us any definitive answers. The picture they paint is mysterious and powerful, even frightening, as we read in Daniel:

"There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Daniel 12:1-3)

Meanwhile, in Mark, we hear of Jesus's disciples questioning him about his prediction of the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, once Judaism's most sacred place. First warning his friends against being lead astray by imposters, Jesus adds,

"When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed: this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs." (Mark 13:7-8)

Indeed, references to earth-shaking events can be found throughout the Bible, including some unlikely places. Even Hannah, the mother of the prophet Samuel, expounds on the final judgment in her song of thanksgiving for the birth of her son:

"The Lord! His adversaries shall be shattered; the Most High will thunder in heaven. The Lord will judge the ends of the earth; he will give strength to his king, and exalt the power of his annointed." (1 Samuel 2:9-10)

The picture being sketched is one of great unrest. And so it's no wonder that there have been people in virtually every century who have believed that the end of the world is around the corner -- every generation has its own troubles and potential signs that the end is near.

But while speculating on the end of time can be a fascinating exercise -- indeed, the movie 2012 seems destined to be a hit -- in many ways it seems fruitless to try to definitively determine on what is meant by ideas like the last judgment or the coming of the kingdom of God, or when such events might occur. Paul, after all, seems to have believed that Jesus would return in his own lifetime. And as Jesus says in Matthew, "But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father" (Matthew 24:36).

Perhaps instead of spending our time worrying about whether or not the world will end in 2012 (for the record, I'm not holding my breath), we ought to turn to this week's passage from Hebrews, which focuses our attention on more worthwhile pursuits:

"And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching." (Hebrews 10:24-25)

For more information about 2012, see NASA's recent awareness campaign here.

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November 8 -- Attitudes of Abundance

This week's lectionary texts: Ruth 3:1-5 and 4:13-17 or 1 Kings 17:8-16, Psalm 127 or Psalm 146, Hebrews 9:24-28, and Mark 12:38-44.



The economic turmoil of the last couple of years has left virtually no person untouched. Women and men have lost their jobs and their homes; families have depleted their savings; poverty has affected an ever-increasing number of lives. Even those not directly harmed by this economic crisis are facing cutbacks and cost-cutting measures. We're all learning that material wealth and prosperity are not things that we can always count on.

This week's passages, therefore, offer an interesting perspective on what it really means to be well-off. We are urged by these texts to cultivate an attitude of abundance, remembering that God's ideas about prosperity may be quite different from our own.

In the reading from First Kings, we hear the story of the widow of Zarephath. The prophet Elijah enters this woman's town, having been told by God that the widow would feed him. But when Elijah approaches her, she is understandably confused:

"As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die." (1 Kings 17:12)

Like many widows of her time, this woman had virtually nothing -- indeed, she seems resigned to a terrible fate for herself and her child, and can't imagine how Elijah could have asked her for something to eat.

But Elijah explains, "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth." (1 Kings 17:13-14)

And indeed, as the story goes, Elijah was right: "She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah." (1 Kings 17:15-16)

Many will recognize the similarities between this story and the stories found in the Gospels of the ways in which loaves and fishes were multiplied to provide food for thousands. In both, the aid of God multiplied resources far beyond what anyone had believed possible.

In Mark, we hear the story of another widow: this time, a woman who deposits two small coins into the treasury at the temple. Though her offering couldn't have looked like much to outside observers, Jesus reminds his disciples that "this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on" (Mark 12:43-44).

Most of us are not in a position to give away all we have to the church or our neighbors. And there is no doubt that countless people -- both in our own country and around the world -- are struggling to even get to the next day, as was the widow of Zaraphath.

But what this week's passages remind us is that even in the midst of economic strife, we can rethink our ideas about prosperity and abundance. The old cliche is true: every little bit helps. We may not be able to give our next-door neighbor a new job, but we can invite him over for dinner. We might not be able to donate our income to our church, but we can volunteer to teach Sunday school or greet newcomers.

Even when things are hard -- and it's no denying that this is a challenging time -- God calls us to think about how we can cultivate an attitude of abundance that will be a blessing to our families and neighbors. Psalm 146 tells us that "the Lord watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow" (Psalm 146:9). God has not forgotten about us -- and God has called us to share our prosperity, whether our possessions, our time, or our talents, with those in need.


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November 1 -- The Law of Love

This week’s lectionary texts: Ruth 1:1-18 or Deuteronomy 6:1-9, Psalm 146 or Psalm 119:1-8, Hebrews 9:11-14, and Mark 12:28-34.

In this week’s lectionary texts, we hear – not once, but twice – the greatest commandments in the Christian faith. First in Deuteronomy, and again in Mark, we are instructed in our duty to God as God’s faithful people:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your strength, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5)

“Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” (Mark 12:2-30)

No doubt many of us have heard this commandment repeated over and over. And indeed, the first line begins the Shema Yisrael, arguably the most important prayer in Judaism.

But what exactly does it mean to love God all our heart, soul, strength, and mind (or might)? At first, it seems that the injunction to love God so deeply and with virtually every one of our faculties would essentially be a full-time job.

Many of us struggle with even knowing where to begin when it comes to loving God. For some, God is so enormous, so incomprehensibly grand and majestic that trying to love God seems like an impossible task; how could a single person’s love even gain the notice of God?

For others, loving God seems to mean loving a deity who has let terrible things happen. How can I love a God, they might think, who let my husband die, or my neighbor lose her home? The commandment to love God, utterly and completely, seems to them like a cruel joke.

Yet I would argue that the commandment we hear in Deuteronomy and Mark is not just a commandment to blindly love God – rather, it is also a call to awareness and attentiveness, a call to pause and take stock of our lives and the ways in which we have sensed God’s presence.

In Deuteronomy, the commandment continues, “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise” (Deuteronomy 6:6-7). We are instructed to keep God on our minds and in our heart – to not let our days just fly by, but to be continually reflecting on God’s goodness in our lives.

The passage from Deuteronomy hints at another facet of this commandment to love: the fact that we are to share our love for God with one another. We are to talk about God with our families, and carry God’s spirit with us wherever we go.

Jesus’s teaching in Mark echoes this idea. After explaining to the Sadduces that the commandment to love God is the first commandment, he adds a second: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31).

Here we see that the commandment to love God does not exist in a vacuum. We are not instructed to just sit in our homes all day, meditating on how much we love God (though such a practice can certainly sometimes be beneficial). Rather, we are called to love God by loving God’s people – to go into the world, showing love to all those we meet. We cannot truly love God if we are not actively loving others.

As is written in the first letter of John, “Those who say ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from his is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” (1 John 4:20-21)

The commandment to love God totally, utterly, and completely can seem overwhelming. God is God, and loves us with a perfect love; how could we ever hope to return even a tiny portion of God’s love? But perhaps our concern ought to be remembering that we can show our thanks and love to God by loving our neighbors: our families, friends, classmates, coworkers, those people we like and those who frustrate us, men and women and children in our own country and around the world.

One of the psalms appointed for this week praises God, noting that God “executes justice for the oppressed,” “gives food to the hungry,” “sets the prisoners free,” “opens the eyes of the blind,” and “lifts up those who are bowed down” (Psalm 146:7-8). Let us join with God in these acts of love, being mindful and attentive to the needs of others, and serving one another in love for God and our neighbor.

Photo credit here.

October 25 -- Prayers of Praise

This week's lectionary texts: Job 42:1-6 and 10-17 or Jeremiah 31:7-9, Psalm 34:1-8 and 19-22 or Psalm 126, Hebrews 7:23-28, and Mark 10:46-52.



If you asked one hundred people about their prayer lives -- how they pray, when, where, why -- no doubt you'd receive one hundred different answers. Prayer, indeed, is a simple word for an incredibly complex set of possible practices. Prayer can be carried out collectively, in pairs, in small groups, or in whole churches. Prayer may be deeply personal, held silently within one's own mind. Prayers can be well-known and standardized -- the Lord's Prayer is perhaps the most famous example -- or spontaneous and unrehearsed. Prayer may use countless elaborate words -- or it may use no words at all.

Though it would be impossible to list all the reasons that people might pray, I suspect that for many of us, prayer often consists of asking God for something, whether it's inner peace, success at an interview or on a test, healing for a loved one, or nice weather for our soccer game. There's nothing wrong with this kind of prayer. But in today's lectionary texts we find an emphasis on another kind of prayer: prayers of blessing and thanksgiving to God.

Psalm 34, subtitled "Praise for Deliverance from Trouble," is a beautiful reflection of the Psalmist's gratitude for the mercy and care of God. The author is so grateful that he can't contain himself; he has to enlist other people to join in his joy:

"I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul makes its boast in the Lord; let the humble hear and be glad. O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together." (Psalm 34:1-3)

Growing up I sometimes thought it seemed strange to talk about "blessing" God -- wasn't God supposed to be the one to bless us? How could humans even bless God, anyway? But as the Merriam-Webster dictionary explains, blessing someone can also mean to glorify them. So blessing God, as does David in Psalm 34, means to glorify God for all the good things that God has done in our lives.

The psalm continues in a similar vein, expressing thankfulness for answered prayer and deliverance from worry:

"I sought the Lord and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. Look to him and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed. This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord, and was saved from every trouble. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them." (Psalm 34:4-7)

Again, notice how the Psalmist is inviting others into his psalm of praise and thanksgiving. He is so filled with gratitude that he wants to use his own testimony of God's faithfulness to assure others of God's goodness: "Look to him and be radiant," he exclaims. We are often encouraged to share our struggles with one another, in order to help lighten each other's loads, and give each other assistance and aid. Here, David reminds us that we ought to share our happiness and gratitude too, that our joy may be contagious and help others to realize the signs of God's grace in their own lives.

As the psalm continues, listeners are reminded over and over that God is a God of care and protection:

"O taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are those who take refuge in him." (Psalm 34:8)

"Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord rescues them from them all. He keeps all their bones; not one of them will be broken." (Psalm 34:19-20)

This is evocative language; God's looking out for our "bones" recalls the reminder in Luke that God has numbered every hair on our heads (Luke 12:7). In short, the Psalmist is praising God for God's protection and personal concern with every human being. And in this week's text from Jeremiah, we see an example of God's care and deep love:

"See, I am going to bring [my people] from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth...I will let them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble." (Jeremiah 31:8-9)

Prayer can take countless forms, and each of them has its advantages. But sometimes, in the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, we forget to take time to simply thank God for God's goodness and grace. This week's texts remind us to remember to express our happiness and thanksgiving -- to bless God, and happily encourage others to do the same.


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October 18 -- Pondering Paradox

This week's lectionary texts: Job 38:1-7 and 34-41 or Isaiah 53:4-12, Psalm 104:1-9, 24, 35c or Psalm 91:9-16, Hebrews 5:1-10, and Mark 10:35-45.

This week, we hear in Mark an intriguing story of paradox featuring James and John, the sons of Zebedee. Jesus and the twelve disciples are on their way to Jerusalem, and Jesus has just told them -- for the third time -- that he will be betrayed and killed when they reach the city.

Upon hearing this undoubtedly unsettling prediction again, James and John immediately approach Jesus. They don't mince words, asking boldly, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you" (10:35).

When Jesus asks them what they desire, they reply, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory" (10:37). (One wonders if James and John both preferred the right hand, which was viewed as more honorable.) Their request indicates that they have been giving a lot of thought to Jesus's previous foreshadowings of his death and resurrection, and pondering how they might fit in to the events of the days to come. After all, James and John were two of Jesus's closest disciples; along with Peter, they were the only witnesses to Jesus's transfiguration (9:2-13). Jesus even had a special name for them, calling them "the Sons of Thunder" (3:17).

Jesus, for his part, replies somewhat cryptically. "You do not know what you are asking," he tells them (3:38). Jesus then asks James and John if they are "able to drink the cup that I drink [presumably the cup of God's wrath, according to The Harper Collins Study Bible] or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with [presumably a reference to death, also according to the Harper Collins Study Bible]" (10:38).

James and John put on a brave face: "We are able," they say (Mark 10:39). But Jesus offers a response that is likely different from the one they are expecting, stating that the brothers will indeed share in Jesus's cup and baptism, but that he himself cannot select the people who will sit at his left and right hands: "It is for those for whom it has been prepared" (10:40).

The author of the gospel does not tell us the reaction of James and John, but does note that the other disciples are not happy with the Sons of Thunder. Bringing the twelve back together, Jesus then offer a fascinating and paradoxical reflection on service:

"You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:42-45).

Narry Santos, a professor of New Testament, writes that this seemingly paradoxical statement is one of three similar passages in Mark found "within the context of Jesus' three Passion predictions," the others being Mark 8:35 ("whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it" and "whoever loses his life shall save it") and Mark 9:35 ("If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all") (15).

So what is Jesus doing? At first glance, paradox can be a frustrating rhetorical device; sometimes readers are tempted to throw up our hand in confusion. But a closer look at Mark 10:42-45 offers an intriguing vision of an upending of traditional notions of power, and a stirring charge to rethink our notions of service.

James and John were impressively bold in asking Jesus for the honor of sitting at his left and right hands, and brave in expressing their willingness to share in his suffering. But Jesus's teaching to the twelve disciples places the emphasis not on what might happen in the future, but on what people ought to be doing in the present.

It's understandable that John and James wanted assurance of future reward: it seems only human. Yet this week's text from Mark drives home the point that future glory means nothing if we don't take time now, this very day, to serve one another. Children are hungry now. Violence is destroying lives now. With a seemingly paradoxical statement, Jesus draws the attention of his disciples to the importance of focusing on what we can do for others, and not what others can do for us.

Similar sentiments are expressed in a prayer commonly attributed to Saint Francis, also characterized by apparent paradoxes that resolve into a vision of loving care for others:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.


Sources:

Harper Collins Study Bible, Revised Edition (New York: HarperOne, 2006).

Santos, Narry. "Jesus' Paradoxical Teaching in Mark 8:35, 9:35, and 10:43-44." Bibliotheca Sacra 157 (January-March 2000), 15-25.

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October 11: When God Can't Be Found

This week's lectionary texts: Job 23:1-9 and 16-17 or Amos 5:6-7 and 10-15, Psalm 22:1-15 or Psalm 90:12-17, Hebrews 4:12-16, and Mark 10:17-31.





I'd like to begin this week's post by introducing myself! My name is Caitlin, and I began writing the lectionary blog last week. I am a second-year M.Div. student at Harvard Divinity School, and I'm very excited to be doing field education this year at the Massachusetts Bible Society. I am a United Methodist, but not on the ordination track; at this point, I'm hoping to ultimately use my degree in the non-profit sector, working on issues of international relief and development. I look forward to journeying through the lectionary with all of you over the next few months!

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As Christians, we proclaim that God is love. We praise God for God's goodness and justice, God's righteousness and care. We thank God for our abundant blessings, and rejoice that we have been brought into relationship with the Divine.

Yet, at the same time, few of us would say that our relationship with God is 100% wonderful, 100% of the time. Sometimes, when confronted with personal afflictions or when considering the vast suffering in the world -- for example, the grave toll of the recent typhoon in the Philippines and the earthquake in Indonesia -- we find ourselves angry with God. "How could you do this?" we might ask, or, "How could you let this happen?" At other times, we may feel that God has become distant or is no longer answering our prayers. And sometimes we may even find ourselves afraid of God.

In this week's lectionary texts, we hear from people struggling with their relationships with God. Take Job, for example. Job's tragic tale is relatively famous: despite faithfully serving God, his children are killed and his wealth destroyed. He refuses to "charge God with wrongdoing" (Job 1:22) but is still broken-hearted and dismayed.

Part of Job's grief stems from the fact that God seems to have disappeared -- Job cannot even find God to ask him why such terrible things have happened:

"Today also my complaint is bitter; his hand is heavy despite my groaning. Oh, that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his dwelling! I would lay my case before him, and fill my mouth with arguments. I would learn what he would answer me, and understand what he would say to me [... But] if I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him." (Job 23:2-5, 8-9)

Not only is Job frustrated by his inability to find God, but he acknowledges another strong emotion: fear. "God has made my heart faint," he exclaims, "the Almighty has terrified me; If only I could vanish in darkness, and thick darkness would cover my face!" (Job 16-17)

For Job, recent events seem to be presenting God not as a loving protector, but as a distant, even wrathful deity: someone to be feared. And this theme is continued in Psalm 22, when David cries,

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest." (Psalm 22:1-2)

The Psalmist's words -- words spoken by Jesus on the cross in Matthew 27:46 -- are clearly the lament of someone who feels cut off from God. The language is darkly evocative, portraying a person who is "poured out like water," with a heart "like wax," lying in "the dust of death" (Psalm 22:14-15). God, for reasons that are unclear, seems to have left the Psalmist alone in a time of anguish.

I suspect that most of us have experienced seasons of life where we feel cut off from God, or indeed questioned God's very reality. But David's psalm, while reflecting the human experience of feeling that God has left us alone, also offers hope. He calls our attention to the great faithfulness God has shown in the past: "To you [our ancestors] cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not put to shame" (Psalm 22:5). "Since my mother bore me you have been my God," David continues, reminding us that we have always been God's children, even when we cannot feel God's presence (Psalm 22:10).

Human existence is characterized by both great joy and great pain. At times -- perhaps when life is otherwise going well, or perhaps when we have just been thrown a curveball -- we may discover that God seems to have withdrawn. Such experiences can be painful and frightening. But as we see in Job and in Psalm 22, we need not be afraid to call out to God anyway, to express our fear or anger: God can take it.

In the lectionary text from Hebrews, we read, "Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). The author of Hebrews is saying that we needn't be afraid to approach God, to express our deepest worries and fears, or to ask for the mercy and grace that God has promised us. Indeed, I would contend that this week's texts show us that doing our best to keep our relationship with God alive -- whether by praising God, or lamenting to God, or questioning God -- will help sustain us even in those times in our lives when we feel that God is far away.

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October 4: Our Place in Creation

This week’s lectionary texts: Job 1:1 and 2:1-10 or Genesis 2:18-24, Psalm 26 or Psalm 8, Hebrews 1:1-4 and 2:5-12, and Mark 10:2-16.



When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor. -- Psalm 8:3-5

As someone with an amateur interest in astronomy, I have found myself thinking – on more than one occasion – about the idea behind the psalmist’s words in Psalm 8. This universe of ours is huge – indescribably, unimaginably huge. The image here, known as the Hubble Ultra Deep Field, gives us a glimpse of just a few of the billions of galaxies scattered through space. I’m sure most people have had the experience of peering up into a bright night sky, gazing at the stars, and thinking, “It’s beautiful, but it makes me feel so small.”

Yet one of the themes running through this week’s lectionary texts is the notion that while this universe we call home may be a staggeringly enormous place, human beings have been given an honored position by God. After all, we read in Genesis, God grants Adam the honor of naming every other living being: “So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name” (Genesis 2:19).

Continuing in this vein, the psalmist adds, “You have given [human beings] dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas” (Psalm 8:6-8).

At first glance, passages like these can seem like an exciting license to do whatever we choose. If we are just “a little lower than God,” with dominion over all of God’s works, don’t we have free reign over the earth and its creatures? Indeed, some have interpreted such texts to mean just that.

But I would like to propose that if we believe that human beings have been granted special favor by God – special standing on this planet, or in this universe – we have likewise been tasked with the responsibility to act with great love and care towards our fellow creatures. See, for instance, Jesus’ admonition that “from everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required” (Luke 12:48).

We humans are lucky creatures. We live on a beautiful planet. We can speak, sing, dance, and play. We can compose incredible pieces of music or works of literature; we can engage in wonderful acts of caring and compassion. We can be agents of love and service in our families and our communities, and the world at large.

Sometimes, though, we forget that being human means that, if we're not careful, we can also be agents of cruelty, or of wastefulness and destruction. We need to be constantly aware that our actions, big or small, have consequences for ourselves, our neighbors, and our world. These days there's more talk than ever about being "green" and environmentally conscious -- and that's a terrific thing! But let's not let the ongoing dialogue about care for our fellow creatures and our planet become just background noise.

In Hebrews, we read, "For the one who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one Father. For this reason Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters" (Hebrews 2:11). That's a pretty powerful image. We may be tiny in relation to the whole universe, but Christ still calls us his sisters and brothers.

Having been given such a gift, perhaps one of the best ways to respond is to think about ways that we can be a gift to our world -- whether by making an effort to eat locally, adopting a rescue animal, composting our kitchen scraps, riding a bike to work, or any of the myriad other ways to take care of creation.


For a sobering look at how much of an impact our lifestyle can have on the earth, check out this footprint quiz.

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Sept 27: Vashti and Esther

Earlier this year, Jonathan Page of Memorial church in an interview describes pros and cons of following the lectionary during the church calendar year. A benefit of a pre-set path of readings is securing a level of diversity. Rather than returning to readings one is most comfortable with, pastors link in to a pattern which ensures that each week, readings will come from Hebrew Scripture, the New Testament, the Psalms, and the Gospels. This built-in structure creates an element of universality as churches in different geographical areas follow the same readings, and pastors are not faced with the temptation to keep circling around their favorite passages.

However, a drawback of reading the Bible through the lectionary is that so-called minor characters may end up getting short shrift. Instead of reading a book from beginning to end, as readers may well do who follow the daily lectionary, often the passages considered most central, and thus most well-known, form the lectionary text for worship. On this fall schedule, the book of Esther appears once, this upcoming week; later the book of Ruth will be read over the course of two weeks. This has the result that congregations focus on the clearest protagonists, in this case Mordecai and Esther. However, in this case the character Vashti is described as an intriguing counterpart to Esther, and this week I would like to focus on how this character is presented in the text.

The book of Esther stands out in Scripture for having two distinct parts, which a translation into a modern language initially conceals. According to the New Oxford Annotated Bible notes, the Esther manuscript which is written in Hebrew is dated to the Hellenistic period of approximately the fourth-third century BCE, before tension between Jews and Gentiles worsened during the period of the Maccabeans. Because unlike figures such as David and Solomon, the lives of major characters in the text are not confirmed by non-Biblical texts; for example, Persian history does not mention figures such as Vashti and Esther.

For this reason the text is described as a novella, not a text whose original audience would understand it as purporting to record history exactly. Ahasuerus is possibly King Xerxes I, whose wife was Amestris, and no mention of a Vashti or Esther (Hadassah is the Jewish name) is made in Persian royal history. One can conclude that the book of Esther was written to make a point about justice triumphing against all odds, and “. . . paradoxically, the need for the oppressed to act shrewdly and boldly for that justice to prevail” (708 HB). This text reflects the work of a writer familiar with Persian customs and language, yet it does not mention terms central to other Hebrew Scripture: “The Persian king, for instance, is mentioned 190 times, but the God of Israel not once; nor are such basic Jewish themes as the Law, covenant, prayer, dietary regulations, or Jerusalem. Because fate is an acknowledged factor in the story, some readers suggest that God, though hidden, is arranging the events” (708 HB).

Strikingly, when the text was translated into Greek in the Septuagint for Diaspora Jews, 107 verses were added. The added verses are not accepted as canonical by Jews (708 HB). However, a possible motivation for the added verses would be to make the story have a more explicitly religious theme. The Revised Standard Version (RSV) of the Bible lists additions to the Book of Esther here.

Michael Coogan summarizes how these additions change the nature of the original Hebrew text:

“The Greek version of the book of Esther adds repeated references to God guiding events and includes lengthy prayers by Mordecai and Esther, making them both more pious than they are in the Hebrew version. Esther is now an observant Jew, who fears God and keeps his commandments, hates that she sleeps with one who is uncircumsized, and apparently observes the dietary laws” (Coogan, 530, without pg references).

This text plays a major cultural role in modern-day Judaism, serving as the basis for Purim, a holiday that celebrates the deliverance of the Jews from their enemies. Christian communities celebrate Esther as an example of a woman who liberated her people, risking her life by approaching the king without an official invitation. The lectionary passage from this week includes the speech she makes to the king, begging that the lives of her people the Jews be spared:

So the king and Haman went to dine with Queen Esther, and as they were drinking wine on that second day, the king again asked, "Queen Esther, what is your petition? It will be given you. What is your request? Even up to half the kingdom, it will be granted."
Then Queen Esther answered, "If I have found favor with you, O king, and if it pleases your majesty, grant me my life—this is my petition. And spare my people—this is my request. For I and my people have been sold for destruction and slaughter and annihilation. If we had merely been sold as male and female slaves, I would have kept quiet, because no such distress would justify disturbing the king.” (7:1-4).
However the depictions of vengeance against enemies has also been troubling to modern audiences. The letters written as a result of Esther’s speech justify killing of women and children: “By these letters the king allowed the Jews who were in every city to assemble and defend their lives, to destroy, to kill, and to annihilate any armed force of any people or province that might attack them, with their children and women, and to plunder their goods . . .” (8:11). According to NOAB, “the bloodthirsty language, however, derives from the story’s symmetric pattern of reversals, not from any historical reality. Furthermore, the Hebrew version of Esther, in contrast to the Greek version, does not view all Gentiles negatively” (HB 708-709).

Finally, an interesting aspect of modern Esther feminist commentary includes a focus on the character of Vashti. The role Vashti plays in the text is ostensibly small: her refusal to appear before the king and his colleagues while they are drinking during a banquet, possibly naked, causes her to lose her position as queen and sets off the chain of events bringing Esther to power. Writers such as Elizabeth Wurtzel see in her refusal to appear as the “entertainment” at a banquet an example of a woman refusing to submit to patriarchal gender norms. In his essay “Purim: Vashti as a Feminist Hero,” Rabbi Arthur Waskow at the Shalom Center writes,

“My own reading of the Megillah is that it is made up of two intertwined jokes -- very powerful, and in one case bloody, but jokes nevertheless. The second one is the one we all have learned -- what Haman wants to do to the Jews is what happens to him, and he brings it on his own head. That's the bloody joke. The FIRST one (it starts earlier in the story) is that Ahasuerus's decision that no woman is going to tell him what to do puts into motion the train of affairs that ends by his doing EXACTLY what Esther tells him to do. Structurally, this is the same joke as the first one.

There is even one Rabbinic midrash (from a solitary forward-looking man) that the Memucan who advises the king to do Vashti in is --- woddayaknow??!! -- really HAMAN!! And indeed the text hints strongly -- see the similarity between the "people scattered throughout the country who obey their own laws" as the Jews and applying this to Memucan's fear of women in the same way -- that anti-Semitism and anti-feminism are deeply intertwined.”

Complete texts for this week’s lectionary include Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22; Psalm 124; James 5:13-20; and Mark 9:38-50.

Sources include The Old Testament: a Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures by Michael Coogan.

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Sept. 20: the Anonymous Exorcist

"Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us."
"Do not stop him," Jesus said. "No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us. I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward."

The concept of exorcism is beguiling. The passage from this week’s Gospel of Mark reading features the so-called Anonymous Exorcist, also referred to in Luke 9: 49-50. The reader is never given a picture of the exorcist in action. We only learn of him through indirect speech: “Teacher,” said John, “we saw a man driving out demons in your name . . .” Yet this brief passage raises significant questions, including: what role does exorcism play in the Gospel of Mark? How do the exorcist narratives—there are three more—illuminate Jesus Christ as portrayed by Mark? And finally, on a practical level, what does exorcism entail?

Etymology of the modern-day word “exorcism” is described here:

“. . . driving out (an evil spirit) by prayers, ceremonies . . . from Late Latin exorcizare, from Greek exorkizein, "exorcise, to bind by oath" (ex-, "out of" + horkizein, "to cause" or "to make a person swear, to administer an oath to", from horkos, "oath"; also literally, limitation, binding). As noted above, "oath" is to be found at the etymological heart of exorcise, a term going back to the Greek word exorkizein, meaning "to swear in, to take an oath by, to conjure", and "to exorcise".

In this particular verse, Mark seems to drawing a parallel between Jesus and Moses, as portrayed in the book of Numbers in Hebrew Scripture. After the Israelites complain about life in the wilderness, Moses in turn asks Yahweh for relief. Yahweh’s answer is as follows, asking Moses to gather seventy elders of Israel: “I will take some of the spirit that is on you and put it on them; and they shall bear the burden of the people along with you so that you will not bear it all by yourself (11:17). After Yahweh extends the spirit that was give to Moses to the elders, Moses is informed by a young man:

“Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp. . . But Moses said to him, “Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the LORD’s people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them! And Moses and the elders of Israel returned to the camp. (27-30).

When applying this passage to a congregation today, one can make an interpretive move that the editors of the New Oxford Annotated Bible make: “The movement is not to be defensive or controlling” (NT 75). Thus this passage can be read as a strong sign, not only to passively wait for healing to arrive from an outside source, but to actively take initiative. Virtually all we know about the Anonymous Exorcist was that he was not one of the Twelve Disciples, yet he was successful in driving out demons in Jesus’ name. John and his companions do not tell the Exorcist to stop because his work is fraudulous, or ineffective, thus giving their group a bad reputation. They object merely because he is using Christ’s name, yet not “one of us.”

Jesus’ response is to legitimize the Exorcist who he has never met or seen. He describes doing good works as a method for in effect drawing near to him: “No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us. I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward.”

Thus, it is possible to read the Anonymous Exorcist as a model for would-be leaders whose voices have historically not been heard. Both Jesus, and Moses in the parallel passage, rebuke their followers for drawing too tight a fence around their communities of faith. It is also notable that the Exorcist is neither invited, nor forced, to join Jesus and the disciples. The narrative leaves the reader with the view that he continues to do his work offstage, with Jesus’ commendation. The passage can in this regard be read as pointing to different but parallel spiritual paths.

One great source for readers interested in more information about exorcism is Eric Sorenson’s Possession and Exorcism in the New Testament and Early Christianity (Mohr Siebeck, 2002).

The author brings a sustained focus on linguistics and historical breadth to this specific study. He contextualizes exorcisms depicted in the New Testament with similar passages in the Hebrew Scriptures--drawing on the traditions of prophets Daniel and Ezekiel in particular--as well as in non-Biblical texts from Mesopotamia and the Greco-Roman world from this time period. He also pays particular attention to the rich and varied Greek and Hebrew words depicting, not just exorcism narratives, but instances in which a figure receives "the spirit of the Lord."

A strength of this book is the extent to which the author reads exorcist narratives side by side, putting them into conversation with each other. Explaining that the Gospel of Mark offers the first existing evidence of exorcism in the Christian tradition, Sorenson how, unlike Luke, Mark uses different verbs for Jesus’ exorcisms that the verbs that describe healing (Sorenson, 135-136). He focuses on three narratives in Mark in which Jesus performs an exorcism: Mark 1:23-28, the man in synagogue (also in Luke); Mark 5:9, the Gerasene demon named Legion; and Mark 9:21, 29, the speechless boy (both in Matthew and Luke.)

Sorenson argues that the exorcism scenes in Mark are not written with the goal of informing others how to repeat them—in other words, they are not “How To” narratives. The words Jesus says are written in the Greek imperative tense (138), but there is no one formula highlighted as singularly effective. Rather, the success of the exorcisms comes from Jesus’ spiritual authority. Sorenson writes,

"In contrast to the Marcan healings which can employ several distinct actions, the exorcisms in Mark are simply wrought, often performed only a command or a rebuke. . . For this reason the Gospel of Mark can be immediately distinguished from the Mesopotamian ritual manuals . . . Further, Mark’s austere descriptions set Jesus’ technique in contrast, perhaps deliberately so, with the elaborate methods known to have existed for other exorcists outside of the New Testament" (Sorenson, 136).

Sorenson also explores similarity between the exorcism and healing narratives, as indicative of divine agency relieving suffering:

“Aggressiveness pervades Jesus’ and the disciples’ interactions with the hostile demonic world. The synoptic authors work on the assumption that exorcism reveals the exorcist as a mediator of divine power that constrains and overthrows and equally aggressive evil that has willfully caused innocent people to suffer” (Sorenson, 138).

The photo credit can be found here, and bibliographical (and ordering) information on Possession and Exorcism in the New Testament and Early Christianity can be found here.

The complete lectionary readings for this weeks are Proverbs 31:10-31 or Wisdom of Solomon 1:16-2:1, 12-22; Psalm 1 or Psalm 54; James 3:13 - 4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37 (optional Hebrew reading: Jeremiah 11:18-20).

--Elizabeth Fels

Sept 13: Freedom of Religion in the Military

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels." (Mark 8:34-38)

Although the phrase “take up your cross” for modern audiences has an obvious connotation with Christianity, the original audience to whom this comment was directed would have understood it as a reference to capital punishment for political rebels under the Roman Empire. The New Oxford Annotated Bible glosses the Gospel passage from this week’s lectionary thus:

“. . . the Romans used crucifixion as a gruesome means of terrorizing subject peoples by hanging rebels and agitators from crosses for several days until they suffocated to death. They required condemned provincials to carry the crossbeam on which they were about to be hung” (73 NT).

In this passage, Jesus, while inviting onlookers to join him and his disciples, warns them that, like he himself, they should be willing to “take up their cross.” He thus seems to equate discipleship with a commitment that transcends basic survival mechanisms: faith worth having is something for which one should be willing to risk life on earth. This is a teaching that is repeated in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Matthew 16:24-28 reads,

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

The wording in Luke 9:23 is almost identical:

Then he said to them all, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.’

The word “daily” seems to suggest that the sentence is intended as a metaphor, with the phrase “take up the cross” symbolizing willingness to undergo hardship on behalf of one’s faith. For the first-century audience, this symbol would specifically resonate within the political realm. Extended information on what kinds of people were crucified during this time period and why can be found in the Jewish Encyclopedia here:

Citing Aurelius Victor Cæsar among other sources, this article explains that, while “a Jewish court could not have passed a sentence of death by crucifixion without violating the Jewish law,” crucifixion was part of the Roman penal code. Although Roman citizens were exempt from this punishment, it was proscribed for

“piracy, highway robbery, assassination, forgery, false testimony, mutiny, high treason, rebellion (see Pauly-Wissowa, "Real-Encyc." s.v. "Crux"; Josephus, "B. J." v. 11, § 1). Soldiers that deserted to the enemy and slaves who denounced their masters ("delatio domini") were also punished by death on the cross.”

Recently I had a conversation about conflicts between religious morals and obligations imposed by one’s national citizenship. The Iraq war is an event that clearly has deeply divided American religious communities, with practitioners citing the values they have from their Christian faith to justify either supporting, or opposing, the war.

In an episode of the now-syndicated Boston Legal, a character refuses to pay taxes as an act of protest against the Iraq war. When she is prosecuted by the Federal Government, the show’s main lawyer defends her in court. An acquaintance argued that if one accepts the proposition that the Iraq war is unjust, whether according to international law or the personal moral convictions of an individuals, the act of paying taxes in effect causes you to contribute to a cause you find unjust, as taxes support US military operations.

Regardless of whether or not one believes that going to war in Iraq was morally justified, recent narratives about soldiers deserting citing “moral” beliefs raise important questions about the extent to which freedom of religion is permitted by the State. To name one example, Sgt. Ricky Clousing, a born-again Christian from Washington State trained as an interrogator, underwent a crisis of conscience after deployment in Iraq in the wake of the Abu Ghraib scandal. An article posted on The American View describes Clousing’s dilemma thus:

"Sgt. Ricky Clousing went to war in Iraq because, he said, he believed he would simultaneously be serving his nation and serving God. But after more than four months on the streets of Baghdad and Mosul interrogating Iraqis rounded up by American troops, Sergeant Clousing said, he began to believe that he was serving neither.

He said he saw American soldiers shoot and kill an unarmed Iraqi teenager, and rode in an Army Humvee that sideswiped Iraqi cars and shot an old man’s sheep for fun — both incidents Sergeant Clousing reported to superiors. He said his work as an interrogator led him to conclude that the occupation was creating a cycle of anti-American resentment and violence. After months of soul-searching on his return to Fort Bragg, Sergeant Clousing, 24, failed to report for duty one day."

Clousing refused to leave the army on the pretense of claiming to be mentally unstable, homosexual, or a conscientious objector:

“(He) said he could not file for conscientious objector status because he could not honestly say he was opposed to all war. . . He tried to talk with his church friends in Washington. Some understood him, but others said he had to support the government because of a biblical injunction to ‘render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.’”

After deserting the army and turning himself in, Clousing was sentenced to three months in prison. Under the current Uniform Code of Military Justice, the maximum penalty for desertion during time of war is death. A video of Clousing explaining his reasons for desertion can be found here. According to Military.com, there were 4,698 army deserters from 2007 alone.

Narratives such as this one raise questions such as the following: should the United States allow soldiers to leave the army under the 1st Amendment ostensibly granting freedom of religion, if soldiers claim that participating in the military violates their religious beliefs? Readers with comments are welcome to share thoughts.

Lectionary readings for this week include Proverbs 1:20-33; Psalm 19; James 3:1-12; and Mark 8:27-38.

Photo source here.

--Elizabeth Fels

Sept. 6: Rod and Serpent

What does it profit, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can faith save him? If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit? Thus also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. (James:2:14-17)

In the national health care debate, both those supporting an affordable public option and those opposing expanding the government’s role in health care have cited Christian values in service of their claims. The book of James, from which the next series of New Testament lectionary readings comes, speaks to questions concerning what is the right role of Christians and Churches toward those in extreme need of aid.

The passage for this week, James 2:1-17, is one of the core texts from the works vrs. faith debate. Of the four figures in the NT called “James,” the author is believed to have been the brother of Jesus, a leader of the Jerusalem church who was martyred in the 60s AD. After James’ death the book of James was sent in letter form to Diaspora churches in approximately the 80s or 90s. Thus the goal of the letter was to provide leadership and affirmation of core values to churches outside of Jerusalem.

The letter is written in a rhetorical style using exhortations and the imperative tense on topics of moral instruction. Thus it can be described as following in the tradition of Hebrew wisdom literature, for example Proverbs, the Wisdom of Solomon, and Jesus’s sayings in Mark and Luke (NOAB 389). James’ exhortation of his audience not to differentiate between the poor and rich, using concrete, direct images, resonates with Jesus’s narratives showing social expectations reversed, such as the Sermon on the Mount:

For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your synagogue, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take more notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? (James 2:2-4).

In this particular passage, James makes a direct appeal to Jewish law to justify his strong social justice message against class prejudice: You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Here James is referencing social legislation in the Torah, in particular Leviticus 19:18. This is arguably the passage Jesus quotes in Gospel narratives: You shall not . . . bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD. Thus the book of James demonstrates how core values proclaimed by the church in Jerusalem carried on Jesus and the apostles’ Jewish heritage.

Nora Becker describes passages from other NT books that reference James in a helpful commentary here. She references James extending the mission of the early Church beyond the immediate community:

‘Brothers, listen to me, Simon has described to us how God at first showed his concern by taking from the Gentiles a people for himself. It is my judgment, therefore, that we should not make it difficult for the Gentiles who are turning to God’ (Acts 15:12-14, 19).

The book of James was condemned by Martin Luther as an “epistle of straw,” for ostensibly departing from Paul’s claim that justification, or being in the right relationship with God, comes from faith alone (NOAB 387). Bob Chochola makes the argument that faith vs. works is a false dichotomy here. Chochola writes,

“James would ask, “What good is it? If you say you have faith, but don’t show it by your actions?” This is a good question indeed. What comes through loud and clear in the Book of James is that action indeed puts your money where your mouth is. He attacks the notion that being a Christian is simply a matter of accepting a few spiritual truths without experiencing any real change in behavior or thinking.”

In national health care debate, the question of how to demonstrate one’s faith through actions has strongly shaped discourse in religious communities. On one hand, politicians and constituents who oppose increased government spending in the field of health care and the current bill use religious rhetoric to support their position. For example, a site called “Christian Active Media” lists a polemic article by Peter Fleckenstein. It is a representative summary of arguments against health care reform, the sound bites of which can be heard in Town Hall coverage. Among them:

“Page 429: Advance Care Planning Consult will be used to dictate treatment as patient’s health deteriorates. This can include an ORDER for end-of-life plans. An ORDER from the GOVERNMENT.”

The writer rails against expansion of government in the Offices of the Surgeon General, including “Public Health Services, Minority Health, Women’s Health.” The kind of rhetoric used to oppose sex education in public schools is also used to oppose health care services in schools: “PG 994 School Based Health Clinics will be integrated into the school environment. Say Government Brainwash!”

On the other side of the aisle, Steven Waldman of Beliefnet.com argues explicitly that Obama’s efforts to lead health care reform should be “less Christian.” By this term he means that the value emphasized most should be justice, not compassion.

Waldman argues that appealing to altruism alone won’t build the consensus needed to cover the 40 million uninsured Americans. In particular, he calls attention to the insurance industry excluding would-be customers due to “pre-existing conditions,” documented elsewhere here and here.

Waldman recommends emphasizing justice rather than compassion alone as a value motivating reform:

--A system is immoral if it allows (or encourages) insurance companies to turn you away exactly when you need help most. (Thanks to exclusions for "pre-existing conditions.") That's unfair.
--A system is immoral if it allows (and incentivizes) insurance companies to write policies full of fine print that leaves shocked patients with devastating bills. That's dishonest.
--A system is immoral if it means that losing one's job means not only losing income but the ability to take your child to the doctor. That's cruel.

Finally, an affiliate of Jewish News describes communication between the Obama administration and Jewish, Muslim, and Christian leaders regarding the values informing the push for health reform here.

Ezra Klein is a Jewish blogger I admire with the Washington Post who covers health care reform extensively.

If readers would like to share which arguments on this topic they find most effective and why, please feel free to comment. Other lectionary passages for this week are Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23 or Isaiah 35:4-7a; Psalm 125 or Psalm 146; and Mark 7:24-37.

Rod and Serpent graphic credit.

--Elizabeth Fels