Sunday, July 24, 2022

Is It Still Good?

 

Is It Still Good?

July 24, 2022

 

The Scripture quotations contained here are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and are used with permission. All rights reserved.

 

It’s good to do good, right? It’s good to help people in need. It’s good to help friends who need help. It’s good to feed the hungry, house the homeless, cure the sick, comfort the afflicted, and otherwise to be of good service to others. Jesus tells us as much in the great Judgment of the Nations scene from Matthew 25. He says there that if you did good for “the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Matthew 25:40b. We must understand here that all people are members of Jesus’ family, for all people are children of God. Yet both Jesus and St. Paul take being good even farther. Paul says, "if your enemies are hungry feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink." Romans 12:20 a,b. Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Matthew 5:43-44. Doing good both for those we love and those we find it difficult or impossible to love is clearly the Christian’s call.

Yet in words that come right after the words of Paul I just quoted, Paul says something that raises an important issue. The passage that contains those words reads more fully:

 

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, if your are enemies are hungry feed them, if they are thirsty give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads. Romans 12:19-20 (emphasis added).

 

Paul was doing fine here until he got to “for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Really? We’re supposed to do good for our enemies because that will cause them immense pain? Even when we understand Paul’s words here as metaphor, as surely he intended them to be, he still has us doing good for someone else so that something good, or at least something we take as good, will happen for us. Really?

We don’t have to look to scripture with its heaping burning coals on people’s heads for examples of this kind of “good.” We see it our everyday lives. I once knew a woman who often helped her friends when they needed something. It looked like she was doing good. But she was doing it so that her friends would owe her. She did it so she could ask them for help when she needed something with the expectation that they would help her not because it is good to help others but because she was calling in a marker. Perhaps you know of examples of this sort of thing in your own lives. Unfortunately, it's not particularly uncommon.

So I ask: When we do good because we think doing it will somehow benefit us, is it still good? I’ll begin to try to answer that question by asking: Why did Jesus tell us to do good for those in need who are close to us and even for our enemies? Did he tell us to help those close to us do we’d build up points with them that we could call in later? Did he tell us to love our enemies and do good for them because somehow we would benefit by doing so? Of course not. Jesus asked us to do good simply because it is good. He told us to do good because God is infinitely good. We see his  giving that as our reason for doing good in the words that follow his telling us to love our enemies. He tells us to do it “so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” Mark 5:45a. In other words, do it to be like God, or at least to be like God as much like God as we mortals are capable of being. He told us to do good because when we do we are responding to God’s infinite love with mortal love of our own. God wants us to be good with no expectation of reward. Not for markers we can call in. Not so people will praise us and think highly of us. Not to assuage some guilt we feel for being the privileged ones who can help others but don’t (at the moment at least) need help ourselves. Certainly not to buy our way into heaven. Sure, we may get some personal benefit from helping others if only satisfaction in the knowledge that we have done a good thing. That, however, is never why we’re supposed to do good for others. God calls us to do good for others simply because doing good is good.

So when we do good in hopes of personal gain, is what we do still good? Well, yes and no. What we do to help others is still good because it helps others. Yet when we do good in hopes of personal gain our motive is problematic at best even if what we do is not. We’re doing good, but we aren’t being good. We are thinking more about ourselves than we are truly caring for the other. We are acting out of our ego, and our ego always looks out for itself first. God calls us beyond our ego. God calls us to a higher level of psychospiritual development. Yes, God created us as centered selves. Everything we do we do as centered selves. We can do nothing any other way. That limitation of ours needn’t mean, however, that everything we do, we do for ourselves. It is possible for us to transcend our egos and live out of our centered self for others. It is possible for us to do good just because it’s good. When we do, we’re doing the kind of pure, un-self-absorbed love to which God calls us.

It's not easy of course. Our egos are always there looking out for themselves. I suppose most people never transcend their egos and do good just because it’s good. Nonetheless, that is the level of development to which God calls us. I pray for you, and for myself, that someday we may actually reach that level of development. Then we’ll be able to do good just because it’s good. Then we will be doing the kind of good to which God truly calls us. May it be so.

Friday, July 22, 2022

On Faith and Idolatry

 

On Faith and Idolatry

July 22, 2022

 

One of the gravest sins Hebrew Scripture condemns is the sin of idolatry. It is one of the two primary sins of the Israelites (economic and social injustice being the other) that cause Yahweh to abandon both Hebrew kingdoms, Israel and Judah, to the Gentile empires of Assyria and Babylon. That, at least, is how Hebrew Scripture tells the story. The condemnation of idolatry appears often in the books of the prophets. Here’s a verse from the prophet Hosea that presents the evil of idolatry quite clearly:

 

The more I called them,

               The more they went from me;

     They kept sacrificing to the Baals,

               and offering incense to idols. Hosea 11:2.

 

We see in this passage just what ancient Israel thought idolatry was, or at least what the ancient Hebrew prophet thought it was. Hosea presents this verse as being the words of Yahweh, the only god of the Hebrew people. That’s who the “me” in this verse is. Baal (singular) was the chief god of the native Canaanites, the people whose land the Hebrews occupied and took over (at least as the Old Testament tells the story). Throughout the Old Testament we repeatedly hear of the Hebrew people worshipping not their god Yahweh but rather Baal and the other gods and goddesses of Canaanite religion. “Baal” became the term used to designate most any god the people were worshipping other than Yahweh. In Hebrew Scripture idolatry mostly means that worshipping of other gods. It can also mean worshipping physical representations of the gods of other peoples. In Hebrew Scripture Yahweh so demands that the Israelites worship only him that he allows Gentiles to destroy both Hebrew kingdoms, Israel by the Assyrians in 722 BCE and Judah by the Babylonians in 536 BCE.

Today of course, no one worships Baal or any other Canaanite god or goddess. So does that mean that idolatry has no meaning for us today? Of course not. Today the word idolatry has a meaning similar to if not perfectly identical with its meaning in Hebrew scripture. But to understand what idolatry is today we have to start with a particular understanding of what faith is.[1] Faith, in this way of understanding it, is not holding a certain set of beliefs. It is rather having an “ultimate concern.” To have faith in something or someone is to have that something or someone be more important to you than anything else. Be something to which you will subordinate everything else. Your ultimate concern is that in which you have faith. Perhaps a quick review of a story from the Old Testament that many of us find disturbing will make the notion of an ultimate concern clearer.

At Genesis 22:1-19 we find a story that has three main characters, Abraham, his son Isaac, and God. In the story God commands Abraham to take Isaac to a certain place and there to make him a burnt offering to God. In other words, God has commanded Abraham to kill his son Isaac and burn his body as a sacrifice to God. Abraham sets out to do it. Of course, he doesn’t tell Isaac what he really intends to do. He just gathers wood to burn and fire to set it ablaze and sets off with Isaac for the place God will show him. When Isaac asks where the lamb is for the burnt offering, Abraham says God will provide the lamb. When they reach the place for the sacrifice, Abraham binds Isaac and puts him on the wood as the sacrifice. He takes his knife and reaches out to kill his son. Whereupon God intervenes, tells Abraham not to harm the boy, and provides a ram for the sacrifice in place of Isaac.

Everyone I know who has read this story has been horrified by it, as indeed I have been myself. I have a son, and I would never, under any circumstance, do to him what Abraham did to Isaac, much less the more it seems Abraham would have done had God not intervened. We think, how could the great patriarch Abraham, progenitor of both the Jewish and the Arab people, do such a thing? Kill his son? Really? We all say no. We make excuses like the God I know, love, and seek to serve would never order anyone to do such a thing, as indeed I am convinced God never would. Kill my son as a sacrifice to God or for any other reason? No! Never!

So how could Abraham be prepared to do it, as he certainly appears to be in this story? The answer is, God was Abraham’s ultimate concern. Abraham subordinated everything in his life to his God. He even subordinated his son and the evil of what we would call murder to God. If God said do it, Abraham would do it. Nothing was more important to him than God. God truly was Abraham’s ultimate concern. That’s why he was quite prepared to kill his own son if that was what God told him to do.[2]

If faith is having an ultimate concern, what then is idolatry? It is to make something that is not truly ultimate your ultimate concern. It is, in other words, to make something other than God your ultimate concern, for only God is truly ultimate. People do that all the time. A great many Americans make their nation their ultimate concern. They take their identity from their nation. They expect a kind of salvation from it, for they believe that it will provide them with everything they need. They will even kill and die for their nation if their nation commands them to do it. Not kill in the sense of what we call murder perhaps, but certainly in their country’s military. Other Americans make what we take to be success as their ultimate concern. Ignoring all other aspects of their life, they will work themselves to death in order to achieve it. They subordinate everything else to their drive to achieve what their society tells them is success. They will sacrifice their health, their relationship with their family, and everything else to that drive, to that ultimate concern. And I think we have to be honest here. For most of us, isn’t our family our ultimate concern? I believe that my family is my ultimate concern. I would do for them what I would not do for anyone else. I would die for them if their survival required my death. Nothing is more important to me than they are.

In all these instances a person has made something that is not ultimate their ultimate concern. In other words, in each of these cases a person has committed idolatry. An idol is that which a person has made ultimate for themselves that is not truly ultimate. They have made something that just isn’t God their god. Idolatry is not worshipping Allah or Yahweh rather than God because Allah and Yahweh are God. It is making something finite, limited, human your god rather than the true God.

Idolatry certainly can give life meaning. The nation and service to it give meaning to the life of the super patriot. Subordinating everything to the drive for success gives meaning of a sort to the social and economic climber’s life. My family gives meaning to my life. Yet all of those things and a great many more that people make ultimate in their lives are the Baals of our world today. They are false gods. We so often make one of them our ultimate concern, but they are not ultimate. Only God is ultimate. Only God is above and beyond everything else while still being present in and for everything else. Perhaps calling God ultimate is not how you usually speak of God. Fine. It’s not the way I usually speak of God either. Nonetheless, ultimate is probably God’s defining characteristic. Nothing else is ultimate the way God is.

And here’s the thing about the false gods that we make our ultimate concern. Any idol, any false god, will inevitably fail us. Our nation makes a fascist its president. It gets bogged down in an unwinnable and illegal war of aggression. It fails to care for its people most in need of care. In one or more of these things the nation has failed the person who has made it their ultimate concern. Social and material success fails those committed to it all the time too. Our social climber who has made success their ultimate concern will almost certainly find that the kind of success they have sought is not the panacea they thought it would be. It might satisfy the body, but it impoverishes the spirit. Nothing is ever enough. Many people whose lives have been about social and economic success become alcoholics or drug addicts. Their marriages fail. Far too many of them die believing that they have wasted their lives living for things that do not really matter while neglecting the things that do. Families fail us too. Children do things their parents are convinced are harmful to themselves or others. Relations are severed over important or inconsequential things. Families break up, and family members become alienated from each other. All of these ultimate concerns that are not ultimate can and nearly invariably will fail us. Idols always fail us.

Only that which is truly ultimate never fails us, and only God is truly ultimate. God never fails us because we stand always and forever in God’s grace. God never fails us because God is always close at hand to support, comfort, or challenge us as we have need. God never abandons us. God never tires of us. God doesn’t decide God loves someone else, for God already loves everyone. God doesn’t get too busy to pay attention to us. God doesn’t make bad decisions that harm us or anyone else. God is never alienated from us, and we are never alienated from God. God is our rock. Solid. Always present. Always there for us to hold onto. God is always there as love, love far beyond our understanding, calling us to respond to God’s love with love of God, others, and ourselves. God is the only truly ultimate.

So what is your ultimate concern? In whom or what do you have faith? To whom or to what do you entrust your life? These are not always easy questions to answer. Sometimes it is hard for us to be honest with ourselves. All of us people of faith, I think, want our answer to be God. Yet every time I try to convince myself that God is my ultimate concern I’m brought up a bit short. I have to ask myself: OK, but what about your family? Aren’t they really your ultimate concern? It’s not that I worship my family. I don’t think they’re divine. But, like I said above, they’re the ones for whom I would sacrifice everything. Would I sacrifice everything for God the way Abraham was prepared to do? I want the answer to be yes, but I have to be honest. It disturbs me some that I can’t say unequivocally, “Yes, God is my ultimate concern,” but, honestly, I don’t think I can.

So am I lost? Are you if you can’t truly say it either? I don’t think so. When I can’t make God my ultimate concern I remember that God is a God of universal, unconditional grace. Perhaps I sin when I don’t make God my ultimate concern. But I always remember these words from Second Corinthians, where we read that God “reconciled us to himself through Christ…that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them.” 2 Corinthians 5:18b-19a. And I remember the Bible verse that is more important to me than any other:

 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39.

 

So is God my ultimate concern? Do I have absolute, unconditional faith and trust in God? I’d love to answer yes, but I don’t think I can. Is God your ultimate concern? If not, or if you’re not sure, know that God understands. God forgives even before we ask for forgiveness. For that great grace let all the people say, “Thanks be to God!”



[1] This analysis comes from the great twentieth century theologian Paul Tillich and more particularly from his book Dynamics of Faith. That book, by the way, is the one that thirty years ago first made it possible for me to be a committed Christian.

[2] The nineteenth century Danish theologian SΓΈren Kierkegaard wrote a book titled Fear and Trembling about this story. In that book he argues that Abraham was fully justified in what he did and was prepared to do to Isaac. Kierkegaard’s point was that true faith demands that kind of commitment. He didn’t use the term ultimate concern, but Tillich stands very much if the Kierkegaard’s tradition.

Thursday, July 21, 2022

On Finding Meaning

 

On Finding Meaning

July 21, 2022

 

The Scripture quotations contained here are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and are used with permission. All rights reserved.

Does human life mean anything at all? If it does, what does it mean? If it does, where does that meaning come from? These are probably the hardest questions to answer we humans ever face. To most of us it seems that there must be meaning in life. We think, “If life has no meaning, why are we even here? If life has no meaning, what do I have to live for?” We feel ourselves compelled to find some meaning in life. We just don’t want life to be without meaning. To think that life has no meaning leads to despair. So meaning we must have; but what is that meaning? Where does it come from? Most importantly, how do we find it and live into it? These are immensely difficult questions to answer, but answer them we must.

The Bible offers us various answers to our questions. The prophet Micah offers one passage that might give our lives meaning:

 

He has told you, O mortal, what

               is good;

     and what does the Lord require of

               you,

but to do justice, and to live kindness,

     and to walk humbly with

               your God? Micah 6:8.

 

Doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God could be our purpose in life, a purpose that would give our life meaning.

At the end of his Gospel, the author of the Gospel of Matthew proposes a different purpose and meaning. We read: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Matthew 28:19. The Christian tradition calls this verse the “Great Commission.” Being convinced that God’s call to you is that you to try to convert everybody to Christianity certainly could give your life meaning, and I have known a Christian or two who believe deeply that that is indeed the meaning of their lives.

The Bible has yet another answer to our questions about the meaning of life. It goes like this:

 

Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,

     vanity of vanities! All is vanity. Ecclesiastes 1:2.

 

The author of this passage, who calls himself Teacher and claims to be King Solomon but almost certainly isn’t, also says:

 

I, the Teacher, when king over Israel in Jerusalem, applied my mind to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven; it is an unhappy business that God has given to human beings to be busy with all the deeds that are done under the sun; and see, all is vanity and a chasing after wind. Ecclesiastes 1:12-14.

 

The Teacher also says,

 

I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me—and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish? Yet they will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity. Ecclesiastes 2:18-19.

 

Clearly, the central concept here is the “vanity” of human life. To understand these texts then, we must understand what the word translated here as vanity means in this context. When asked to define vanity, google.com gives two definitions. The first one is, “excessive pride in or admiration of one’s own appearance or achievements.” This, I think, is what the word means to most English-speaking people today. The second definition google.com gives is, “the quality of being worthless or futile.” It is certain that the intended meaning of “vanity” here is Google’s second definition. The word here means worthless. It means meaningless. Ecclesiastes answers our questions very differently than Micah and Matthew do.

So what are we to do? Of course, I can’t answer that question for anyone but myself, but I find it useful in my search for answers to the questions of meaning to take a cue from an academic discipline called hermeneutics. Hermeneutics is the theory of interpretation.[1] It can apply to many different things, but in my experience it is most commonly used in connection with written texts. One of the core principles of contemporary hermeneutics is that meaning does not exist in a text alone. A text has meaning only when a reader reads it. The meaning of the text then arises from the interaction between the text and the reader. One corollary of this principle is that because each reader comes to a text with everything that they are, and because the experiences and other characteristics of each person are unique to that person, a text very likely will mean different things to different people. This fact doesn’t mean that anything goes in interpreting a text. Any meaning that arises between a text and a reader must bear a reasonable relationship to the text. Stray too far from the text, and you aren’t drawing meaning from it, you’re reading meaning into it in an inappropriate way.

The main point here is that meaning does not subsist on its own as an objective thing. The mind of the reader creates the text’s meaning. One of the best ways I’ve heard of to distinguish humans from other animals is that we humans are meaning-making creatures. As far as we know, other animals do not create meaning the way we do. We seem driven to make everything mean something. What we think a thing means may be profound or trivial depending on what the thing is and the context in which we approach it. Either way, however, we create any meaning the thing has when we encounter it. Which of course makes meaning subjective, something to which a great many people object (no pun intended). I, however, have never found or heard any valid way around the subjectivity of meaning.

We can apply these principles of contemporary hermeneutics to our search for the meaning of life. When we do we learn first that life’s meaning does not reside in life alone. Rather, it arises in the encounter of every individual with life. We don’t discover objective meaning for life out there somewhere. We create meaning in here, inside ourselves. We can of course also not create it, and a great many people don’t. Still, a decision active or passive not to create a meaning for life is still a human relationship with meaning. It’s just a negative one not a positive one. If our lives are to have any meaning, that meaning has to arise from our encounter with life. There’s no other place for meaning to come from.

Just as the meaning that arises from the encounter between a reader and a text is unavoidably subjective, so also the meaning that arises from an encounter of a meaning-making animal with life is unavoidably subjective. We create any meaning our life has for us. There is no one else to create it. Meaning arises within us. There's nowhere else for it to arise. But just as contemporary hermeneutics holds that to be valid the meaning a reader finds in a text must bear a reasonable relationship to the text, so to be valid any meaning a person ascribes to life must have a reasonable relationship to life. A meaning that is that I am called to rid the world of sinners (or anyone else) by killing them bears no reasonable relationship to life other perhaps than to end it. Something that negative distorts the meaning of life in an attempt to give life meaning. Making meaning is a subjective activity, but we don’t do it in a vacuum. We do it in the context of life, and the meaning we make must enhance life not just for ourselves but for others and for the world.

So, does life have meaning? The answer is that it can; but for it to have meaning, we must stop looking for meaning outside of ourselves. We must make the meaning of our lives. It’s easy enough to fall into the despair of believing that life has no meaning. The author of Ecclesiastes is right of course. We’re all mortal. When we die we leave behind everything we have had and everything we have done. All of it either passes to someone else or just ceases to exist. The author of Ecclesiastes concluded that the reality of mortality made his life and everything in it a vanity, made it a worthless nothingness. The only way we can avoid that despair is to make meaning for our lives ourselves.

I can hear the objection to this analysis by people of faith that says that God gives my life meaning, I don’t create it myself. I understand this sentiment. I’ve had it myself at times. Yet it contains an existential fallacy. What has happened for the person who thinks this way is that they have given their life the meaning that God has given their life meaning. It cannot be otherwise. Our objector here exists the same way we all do. We exist as centered selves. As centered selves we experience what appears to us to be a reality outside of us. Our various senses take in stimuli from outside of us, or at least so it seems. Our brains work with those stimuli to create what we experience as the reality outside of ourselves. One of the things we can experienced as centered selves is that reality that we call God. We can experience God calling us. We can experience our lives having meaning because we have responded to what we perceive as God’s call to us. In all of that it is still the “I,” the centered self, that has those experiences. That self decides what to do with those experiences. That self can create the meaning that my life is a response to what I have experienced as God’s call. The conclusion that one is responding to a call from God can have the power to transform our lives. It certainly transformed mine when I responded to what I experienced as God calling me to ordained ministry. Nonetheless, it remains true that the person who holds that conviction has created meaning for their life. That’s how we humans function, and we cannot function otherwise. Whether we like it or not, our faithful person’s objection to the analysis of meaning here does not survive critical scrutiny.

So does life have meaning? The answer to that question depends entirely on us. Our lives have meaning if we choose to believe that they do. They have meaning if we find something in our lives that is worth living for. Our lives have meaning if we give them meaning. The choice is ours. We can wallow in the despair of thinking our life has no meaning. That’s what the author of Ecclesiastes did. Or we can find a meaning for our life and spend our life living into that meaning. I pray for you that you have found meaning for your life like I have found meaning for mine. Finding meaning is, after all, what makes life worth living.



[1] For a more complete discussion of hermeneutics see Stop 3 in Part One of the original version, or Stop 3 in Volume One of the revised version, of my book Liberating the Bible, A Pastor’s Guided Tour for Seeking Christians.

Monday, July 18, 2022

Donald Trump and the Decline of American Empire

 

Donald Trump and the Decline of American Empire

July 18, 2022

 

This is a relatively long essay by my standards. It probably says more than it needs to say to make its point. So before I start I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version: A healthy nation would never make Donald Trump its president. The United States of America made Donald Trump its president. Therefore, the United States is not a healthy nation. It is an empire in decline, and Donald Trump is a symptom of that decline. You can stop reading here if you don’t want to follow my wanderings toward an explanation of that truth. You’ll still have gotten the main point.

 

The United States of America is an empire in decline. It has been an empire for most of its existence, and it has been in decline at least since the 1960s. It reached its imperial peak after World War II. By then it had conquered and suppressed (and worse) the Native Americans whose land it stole and occupied. It had taken what became the American southwest in an imperialistic war against Mexico. The country had imperial outposts in the Philippines, Samoa, Guam, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. As the strongest western victor in World War II, it had positioned itself as and proclaimed itself to be the major opponent of the Soviet Union, that totalitarian state that was more responsible for the defeat of Nazi Germany than the United States or any other nation had been. The country masked its imperial status and ambitions so effectively behind a claim of standing for freedom and fighting Communism that few Americans even realized that they were citizens of an empire, but they were. So are we.

No empire lasts forever. The history of what we call the west (west of course being a relative term) can be seen primarily as a story of the rise and fall of empires. The Assyrian Empire rose, then fell to the Babylonian empire, which rose and fell to the Persian empire, which rose and fell to a Greek empire, which rose and fell to the Roman Empire. The Egyptian empire rose, lasted for a very long time, but eventually fell to the Greeks and the Romans. In the eastern part of its realm the Roman Empire morphed into the Byzantine Empire, which rose and fell to the Ottoman Empire, which lasted until 1918, then disappeared from history. After the space of a millennium or so in which they amounted to essentially nothing, the western European nations Spain, Portugal, France, the Netherlands, Great Britain, and to a lesser extent Germany and Belgium, established empires in lands far removed from Europe. In eastern Europe, over the centuries, the Russian Empire conquered and absorbed Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, part of Poland, the Belorussian and Ukrainian people (who did not have their own nation states at the time), Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, and vast territories in central Asia. It stretched as far from the Russian homeland as northern California. The Russian Empire rotted internally to the point that it was conquered by its own Communists. Those Communists turned most of the former Russian Empire into the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, which rotted internally to the point that it too collapsed. When the USSR was dissolved on December 25, 1991, Russia lost the remaining non-Russian parts of its empire. Elsewhere, the overseas empires of the European powers gradually disappeared as non-European people around the world demanded and eventually got their political independence from their European conquerors.

After World War II the United States filled the power vacuum created as those European empires disappeared. It became the world’s dominant economic power. It stationed its military all over the world to protect its economic interests and political power. It claimed that its military was defending American freedom, but for the most part it wasn’t doing that at all. It was extending and protecting American empire. It still does. Now America is an empire in decline. The future is of course uncertain, but there is good reason to believe that America’s imperial position in the world, which it is losing, will be filled by China. Vladimir Putin’s Russia would love to replace America as the dominant world empire, but, unlike China, it lacks the ability to do so.

Although most of the European powers lost their empires without major internal decay, they are the exception not the rule in that regard. Rome is the classic example of an empire that rotted from within even as it was regularly attacked by foreign peoples. In the west, the culture and political structure of Rome survived only in the form of the Roman Catholic Church, which is essentially imperial Rome present in today’s world nominally at least as a church not an empire. When a people loses its empire, that people virtually disappears from the face of the earth. Today there are no Assyrians or Babylonians. The secular culture of Rome continues to have influence in Europe (and Louisiana) primarily through law codes derived from Rome, but there are no ancient Romans around. Rome’s impressive physical infrastructure fell into decay and ruin as the Roman people lost their ability to maintain empire.

As I’ve already said, the Untied States is an empire that has been in decline at least since the 1960s. The Vietnam War is evidence of that decline. The US fought an imperialistic war against North Vietnam and much of the population of South Vietnam. It lost. Another major and related symptom of decline was the election of Richard Nixon as president in 1968. He was a deeply flawed human being, and by 1968 it was obvious to anyone who would look at the evidence that he was. The American people made him president because he represented their reactionary response to the movements for freedom and justice that were afoot at the time.

One characteristic of most if not all empires is that there is in them an immense wealth gap between a small number of very wealthy people and everyone else. That certainly was true of the empires of the ancient world. It was true of Great Britain in its high imperial stage. It has been and is true in many parts of the world formerly ruled by European empires, which empires did nothing to address it. It was true in the United States in the age of the great industrialists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It became less true after the reforms of the New Deal in the 1930s. After World War II it was less true because of an income tax system that had the wealthy paying significant amounts of tax. The top marginal tax rates during the Eisenhower administration were very much higher than they are now. The middle class benefited and grew.

Then came Ronald Reagan and his tax policies. He began the practice, followed essentially every president ever since, of slashing taxes for the wealthy but hardly at all for the rest of us. Reagan’s “voodoo economics,” as George H. W. Bush called them before he became Reagan’s vice president, with its “trickle-down” theory, claimed that “a rising tide lifts all boats.” What is did was lift all yachts. Income distribution in the US today is grossly uneven. The country’s income tax structure is grossly unfair to the middle class and the poor. It benefits only the rich. Such it ever is with empire.

Nations often turn to authoritarian and even totalitarian politicians when those politicians promise to reverse the process of change that the people experience, if perhaps only subconsciously, as decay. Classic examples are Russia’s turn to the Communists in 1917 and thereafter and Germany’s turn to the Nazis in 1933. Both Communism and Nazism, in their separate ways, promised the people either the creation of an ideal world of peace and justice or a renewed and expanded dominance for their nation. Both were reactionary responses to internal decay and national decline. Richard Nixon wasn’t a totalitarian nor even as much of an authoritarian as perhaps he wanted to be. Nonetheless, he represented a reactionary step in response to a changing world. He wasn’t so much a cause of America’s decline as a symptom of it.

The American people have turned to conservative presidents ever since in a vain attempt to hold on to what they know they are losing. Since Nixon we’ve had an ineffective but quite conservative Democrat, reactionary Republicans with Ronald Reagan being Exhibit A, and more conservative Democrats as president. Clinton adopted many Republican policies, and even Barack Obama, in whom so many of us put so much hope, was nowhere near as progressive as we thought he would be or as he needed to be. At least since Nixon, America’s political culture has been trying desperately to apply the brakes, with limited or no success, to worldwide change that we know is a move away from American hegemony, from American empire.

Which brings us to Donald Trump. Although he lost the popular vote to Democrat Hillary Clinton, this country’s federal system, which gives disproportionate power to small population states, made him president in the presidential election of 2016. He was president until January 20, 2021, when Joe Biden, who had beaten him in both the popular vote and the electoral college vote in the 2020 presidential election, became his successor in office. Donald Trump was easily the worst president in American history. He was, and is, so bad that it’s hard to know where to start to list the ways in which he damaged this country and the world. The only good thing one can say about him is that he didn’t get us involved in another unwinnable, imperialistic war the way some of his predecessors did. That’s no small accomplishment, but everything else about him was, and is, so bad that he fully deserves the title of worst American president ever. Because my focus here is on the decline of American empire, I’ll concentrate on the ways in which Trump was and is a symptom of that decline and the ways in which he accelerated it.

We start with the fact that no healthy nation would ever make Donald Trump its president. He was by far the least qualified person ever to assume that office. He was a New York real estate wheeler-dealer who claimed to be a genius at business but who had declared bankruptcy more than once. He was a con artist who bilked people out of their money with scams like “Trump University,” which wasn’t even close to being a university and which offered people essentially nothing for their money. He had a reputation for not paying contractors who had done work for him. He had been married three times and had cheated on all three of his wives. It was obvious that he was a sexist and a misogynist. There was good reason to believe that he was a racist too. He had no political experience whatsoever. He had become famous mostly through a TV show in which he was able to keep shouting at people, “You’re fired!,” something he obviously enjoyed doing. Trump was and is a buffoon, a swindler, a cheat who cared and cares about nothing and no one but himself. That he became president of the US is in and of itself evidence that something is seriously wrong with this country.

Trump and the Trump phenomenon were reactions against the way the country was changing. We see that fact in the slogan he used for his 2016 presidential campaign and continued to use thereafter, namely, “Make America Great Again.” He and his supporters used that slogan so often that MAGA became shorthand for the Trumpist movement. It isn’t at all clear what Trump meant by “great,” but this slogan clearly points backwards rather than forwards. It calls not for creating a new, better future but only for recreating a past that actually never existed except in our national imagination.

The demographics and culture of this country are changing in significant ways. They have been changing for quite some time now. America is become more diverse not less. For its entire existence up to the 1950s, and to a considerable extent for decades thereafter, white, Protestant men ran this country and virtually everything that happened in it. That is no longer as true as it used to be, and it becomes less true all the time. White men are losing the unjust dominance they had, and many of them feel threatened by that loss. It used to be true that poorly educated men could make a decent living as unskilled or only slightly skilled laborers in manufacturing and mining. That is for the most part no longer true, and a great many poorly educated, mostly white men long for a return to the time when it was true. Trump promised them that time was possible and that he would make it happen. It wasn’t possible, and there was no way he could make it happen, but desperate, gullible people in their millions took Trump’s bait and voted for him though he was a man who never should have been allowed anywhere near the levers of power.

Racism played and plays a big role in Trump’s appeal. So did and does xenophobia. So does cultural and religious prejudice. The first things he said he’s do were ban all Muslims from entering the country and build a wall along the entire length of the US-Mexico border to keep undocumented people out. That’s 1,954 miles of fence, assuming that you even could build a wall along all of the border. In reality Trump could do none of those things, and building his wall would not improve our immigration issues on our southern border. Moreover, both of those things are culturally and morally despicable. They did however appeal to a great many Americans of the formerly dominant demographic because of the unease they feel about a changing world.

Trump’s racism shows how he is both a symptom and an accelerator of America’s decline. Racism is America’s original sin. This country has been racist to the marrow of its bones from the beginning. It still is, but since roughly the 1950s we have made at least some significant progress in atoning for that sin. Trump brought American racism, which had become less apparent but still existed, into the open. He made overt racism more socially acceptable in some parts of American society than it had been for a long time. Once a bunch of white supremacist thugs marched through Richmond, Virginia, chanting “Jews will not replace us!” A group of people demonstrating for equality and justice met and opposed them. Trump said that there were decent people on both sides. There weren’t, but Trump’s blessing of the violent racists appealed to the racism and xenophobia of so many Americans. Trump accelerated America’s decline by affirming negative aspects of American culture that many of us were trying, with some success, to overcome.

As bad as that was, it wasn’t the worst thing Trump did as president. All through his presidency he showed that he has no respect for or appreciation of American’s constitution, the governmental structure it creates, or the rule of law. He tried to make the Department of Justice his personal law firm. He resisted the Mueller investigation into his campaign’s connections with Russia and his efforts to obstruct that investigation. He put in a compliant Attorney General, William Barr, who quite happily and effectively lied to the American people about what was in Mueller’s final report. Trump claimed that the report exonerated him. It didn’t.

Yet the worst of Trump’s contempt for the constitution and the rule of law didn’t become fully evident until the presidential election of 2020. As early as his presidential campaign in 2016, Trump claimed that he could lose the election only if it were “rigged” against him. His enemies could steal the victory from him, but he could not otherwise lose. Of course, he won the electoral college vote (though not the popular vote) in 2016, so that election wasn’t rigged enough to keep him from winning. Because he became president, the supposed theft of his popular vote victory didn’t matter so much.

Then came Trump’s campaign for reelection in 2020. Again, long before any votes were cast, Trump claimed that the only way he could lose was if the election were rigged against him. This time he lost both the popular vote and the electoral college vote. Under the US constitution and other election law, his term as president would end on January 20, 2021, when former vice president Joe Biden, who won both the popular vote and the electoral college vote, would be inaugurated as Trump’s successor in office. So of course, according to Trump, his landslide victory had been stolen from him by despicable Democrats and “never Trump” Republicans. He refused to concede the election. A political candidate’s refusal to concede an election loss is legally meaningless. There is no legal requirement that a losing candidate concede, and their conceding has no legal significance when they do. So it’s wouldn’t have mattered much that Trump didn’t concede if that were all he did.

It wasn’t. After he lost the election in early November, 2020, Trump began an assault on the American constitution and system of government by seeking in various ways to have the results of that election overturned. He filed something like sixty-one lawsuits in state and federal courts in an effort to get the courts to void the election results in their states. He lost sixty of those suits, and the one he didn’t lose has had no significant legal effect. The courts often chided his lawyers for having filed cases with no evidence to support them. That’s a breach both of court rules and a lawyer’s ethical duty. One of those lawyers, the formerly respected but now thoroughly discredited former mayor of New York City Rudi Giuliani, has had his licenses to practice law suspended in both New York state and Washington, D.C. He should and perhaps will be disbarred.

Trump did a lot more than file frivolous lawsuits in his effort to reverse his election loss. He asked the Republican secretary of state of Georgia to “find” him the votes he needed to reverse Biden’s narrow victory in that state. In several states that Trump lost, his supporters, certainly at least with his blessing if not at his instigation, had people who were not the state’s properly chosen electors make up false certificates saying they were the state’s electors. One or more of the states where that was done submitted those fake certificates to Congress, a clear violation of federal law. Trump tried to get the Department of Justice to seize the voting machines of the swing states he lost. The Department of Justice refused. Nothing worked. Joe Biden was still going to be inaugurated as the next president.

So Trump and his team of advisors who some in the Trump orbit came to call “the crazies” turned to an aspect of American election law few Americans know about. That law provides that on January 6 of the year after a presidential election both houses of Congress shall meet in joint session to receive, count, and certify the electoral votes of the several states and the District of Columbia. In his role of president of the Senate, the sitting vice president presides at that joint session. Trump’s “crazies,” including Giuliani, came up with the bogus theory that the vice president had the legal authority to reject the electoral votes of any state. The vice president has no such authority. Nonetheless, Trump began to pressure Vice President Mike Pence to do just that. Pence, thank God, refused to do it.

Trump kept up the pressure on Pence. He called for his supporters to come to Washington, D.C., on January 6, telling them it was going to be “wild.” Thousands of people responded. On the morning of January 6, 2021, Trump and his “crazies” held a big rally down Pennsylvania Avenue from the Capitol. Giuliani and others whipped up the crowd, many of whom Trump knew were armed. Trump told them he hoped Mike Pence would “do the right thing,” saying he wouldn’t like Pence so much if he didn’t. Trump sent a mob of his frenzied supporters down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. He said he would be there with them. News reports say he really did want to go to the Capitol, but the Secret Service took him to the White House instead.

Then at the Capitol all hell broke loose. Trump supporters, engaged in insurrection against the government of the United States, erected a crude gallows outside the building and began to chant “Hang Mike Pence!” The mob included a group from the white supremacist group the Proud Boys, who came in military-style gear. They marched through the crowd in a single line that, we’re told, was a tactic the United States Army used in certain situations. They and other rioters broke into the Capitol, smashing doors and windows in the process. The Secret Service rushed the vice president out of the House chamber where the joint session was held. They took him to a parking garage where they told him to get in a vehicle. He refused. Representatives and Senators fled or hid behind furniture in the House chamber. The Capitol police, who fought the mob bravely but were vastly outnumbered, told the congresspersons to put on the gas masks that were stored under the seats in the chamber. Who knew there were gas masks under those seats?! The Capitol police shot and killed one rioter as she tried to break into the House chamber. Rioters ran amok through the building. At least one of them carried a Confederate battle flag, something that hadn’t even happened during the Civil War. The riot just went on and on. The rioters said they were there because Trump told them to be there.

Meanewhile, back at the White House, Donald Trump sat watching the insurrection on television. Numerous supporters of his, his staff, and even his family pleaded with him, mostly by text messages, to go on television and tell the rioters to go home. Yet for more than three hours Trump did nothing. There has been testimony that he said he agreed that Mike Pence deserved to be hanged. Eventually Trump did tell the rioters to go home, in the process calling them patriots and repeating the lie that the election had been stolen from him.

In the aftermath of the January 6 riot the House of Representatives impeached Trump for a second time, this time for his involvement in sparking the riot. Once again the Senate acquitted him in a vote that was clearly political not legal. There have been hundreds of criminal prosecutions of the rioters. A “select committee” of the House of Representatives, made up mostly of Democrats but with two Republicans brave enough to sacrifice their political careers by standing up to Trump, has been investigating the January 6 riot and Trump’s attempts to overturn the results of a free and fair election. This committee has held several public “hearings” in which they have made effective presentations of damning evidence against Donald Trump. As of this writing they have one more such hearing scheduled. They may or may not have more hearings after that one.

What does all this have to do with the decline of the American empire? Here’s what. Donald Trump is the first American president ever to attempt to overthrow the US constitution and the rule of law. He has millions of supporters in that effort. Not since the Civil War has there been a fascistic movement like Trump’s that was anti-democratic, that was willing to use force to control the American national government with no regard for the law or the will of a majority of the American people. Fortunately, though there are many of them, Trump’s supporters remain a minority of the American people. Yet their disdain for constitutional government and the rule of law is a symptom of America’s decline. When empires are thriving few if any of their people seek to overthrow them. When they are in steep decline things change. We get things like the Russian Communists and the German Nazis, who use every tool imaginable to overthrow the government, undermine the rule of law, and impose tyranny on their people. Trump and his supporters have not committed crimes against humanity the way the Soviet Communists and the Nazis did, but they have tried to overthrow the US constitution and subvert the rule of law in a way that is at least a faint echo of Soviet and Nazi tyranny and terrorism. No such thing happened in this country when it was at the height of its imperial power.

Trump and his supporters are both a symptom and an accelerant of American decline. They try frantically to reverse that decline, which is impossible. Empires in decline eventually cease to exist. The American empire still exists, but its days are numbered. Numbered perhaps in decades not years, but numbered nonetheless. That Trump and his insurrectionists nearly succeeded in their attempted coup d’Γ©tat is evidence of just how weak the American empire has become. It is not much threatened by external enemies. It is threatened from within by people whose desperation is causing them to abandon traditional American values like the rule of law. The Russian Empire was never conquered from without. It collapsed from within. The German Empire, the “Second Reich,” was conquered from without in World War I, but it was economic and moral collapse from within that produced the Nazis. The American empire is declining from within in a similar way. Under Trump if very nearly collapsed.

The decline of the American empire can’t be stopped, but it could be managed. The United Kingdom is an example of how a nation can cease to be an empire without completely collapsing. After World War II, England let its empire go. The country’s law and unwritten constitution survived. Empires that resist decline collapse. Empires that manage decline can survive. What would a managed American decline look like? It would be a complex operation to be sure, but a good place to start would be drastically to reduce America’s military footprint around the world. One major manifestation of American empire is precisely the enormous size and reach of the American military. Military spending was a major cause of the collapse of the Soviet Union. It isn’t yet causing a collapse of the United States; but as US dominance in the world wanes, maintaining immense armed forces around the world will become even more economically irresponsible than it already is. A declining empire means a declining economy. We need to manage our decline in a way the minimizes the harm the decline could cause. Reducing military spending could be a big part of doing so.

Beyond that, we must stop playing the role of world cop. Why do so many nations and peoples in so much of the world look to the United States to get involved in their internal problems? It’s because we are still the dominant world empire. As we cease to be the dominant world empire, as we inevitably will, we will have to let peoples and nations in other parts of the world handle their problems without looking to the United States for solutions. To manage internal disruption from the loss of empire we will have to establish a just tax system and reduce the wealth gap between a small number of immensely wealthy people and the rest of us. No doubt other measures will have to be taken as well. The loss of empire needn’t be a disaster. Ignoring it will make it one. The choice is ours. May we choose better in the future than we have in the past.

Friday, July 15, 2022

On Human Cruelty

  I do not typically put my own journaling on this blog, but I think something I wrote last night might be posting. So here it is, mostly unedited.

I write here not because of what I think but because of what I feel. I just read an essay by John Green about bears. He talks about bearbaiting and bear hunting. And I thought, I just don't get human cruelty. Most of all being exposed to it even just in writing breaks my heart. It also makes me angry. I jut don't get it. How can so many people inflict physical and emotional pain on other people and other living things? The Nazis murdered six million Jews, but it wasn't the Nazi party that did it. Nazi ideology probably inspired it, but ideology didn't do it. Human beings did. Human beings systematically killed millions of other human beings as though that were a perfectly normal, acceptable, and moral thing to do. Under Stalin the KPSS [the Communist Party of the Soviet Union] murdered millions upon millions of people, but it wasn't the party that did it. It was ordinary Russian and other human beings who confiscated food from peasants so they would starve to death. Who spent eight hours a day shooting people in the back of the head. Who worked other people to death in the Gulag. And I just don't get it. Ordinary people from every nation on earth put on military uniforms, are trained to kill other human beings, then go kill them as though that were an ordinary, acceptable, and moral thing to do. It isn't, and I can't understand how so many people can fail to understand that it isn't. On an individual level spouses beat up their spouses. Men rape women and even little girls. People abuse animals and cause them immense suffering. People unload AR-15s into classrooms or crowds of people for no conceivable reason. Prison workers calmly put other human beings to death as though that were a moral thing to do. It isn't. Earlier today I read Jim Wallace's account of the two year old boy both of whose parents died protecting him from the Fourth of July gunman in Illinois. Some heroes returned to the fire zone to rescue him. As they carried him to safety he cried, "Shot. Shot Mommy. Shot Daddy." Reading that story brought me to tears Writing about it just now did too.

So why do we do it? How can we do it? Why doesn't the very thought of harming or killing another human being let alone millions of them reduce us to tears? Why do so few Christians understand and live by Jesus' teaching of nonviolence? When did forming up in armed ranks to go kill other people become a Christian thing to do? When did fire bombing Dresden and Tokyo and dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki become a moral, Christian thing to do? It isn't It can't be. It is the infliction of inconceivable suffering and death on other human beings. Calling them the enemy doesn't make torturing and killing them moral. We may make them our enemy. God makes them every bit as much God's people as we are. I just don't get it. It burdens my spirit. It breaks my heart. Why are we humans so cruel? How can we be so cruel? I don't understand it. I will go to my grave not understanding it. All I can do is cry Lord forgive! Lord have mercy! And that isn't enough. It never has been and never will be enough.

Why do I feel this way about human cruelty so much more strongly than most people do? Is it because I was bullied as a child? Is it because I take Jesus' teaching of nonviolence seriously? I have never personally experienced anything much like the cruelty I've described here. Even being bullied was nothing like what so many humans inflict on so many other humans. I grew up in a safe home. I've never really been personally unsafe. I have suffered pain some both physical and emotional, but other people's cruelty hasn't caused that pain. Is it a genetic disposition? Maybe. Is it a weakness? Many people would say yes. I don't think it is, but it makes me awfully vulnerable. I feel assaulted by all the bad news these days. Life must be easier with a hard heart than with a soft one. Hard hearts rule the world, and no cruelty is too vile for them to use doing it. I have so many questions and so few answers. So few answers.

Wednesday, July 13, 2022

Stick to the Text

 

Stick to the Text!

July 13, 2022

 

The Scripture quotations contained here are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and are used with permission. All rights reserved.

 

Of course, when I was in seminary I had some courses on the Bible. There was a general introduction to both Testaments of the Bible. There was a class on the prophets, or at least some of them. I did some work on the writings of the Apostle Paul.[1] These parts of my MDiv program all had different professors, but there was one phrase that all of them drummed into our heads. It became almost a mantra: “Stick to the text!” When you’re doing any kind of exegesis of any biblical text, “Stick to the text!” Don’t go  wandering off making the text mean something you want it to mean even though that meaning is not sufficiently grounded in the text. Don’t go speculating about facts that aren’t in the text at all. Don’t go asking questions about the content of a text that the text doesn’t ask about itself. I got it. I think I still get it. Stick to the text!

I was reminded afresh of this mantra recently in a discussion of a biblical text with some friends and colleagues of mine. I was reminded about how easy it is for us to insert things into biblical texts that just aren’t there. A friend and colleague of mine wanted to do something with a biblical text reminded me of what I had learned so long ago. In a small pastoral support and lectionary study group in which I participate, we were discussing the story from Luke of Jesus’ visit to two sisters named Mary and Martha. You’ll find it at Luke 10:38-42. In this story, Jesus enters the house of a woman named Martha. We’re told that Martha has a sister named Mary. We’re also told that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.” Luke 10:39. Martha, on the other hand, was “distracted by her many tasks.” Luke 10:40a. Martha complains to Jesus that her sister isn’t helping with her with those tasks. Jesus replies to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42. Whereupon the story ends.

The story seems innocent enough, I suppose. It quite obviously is telling us that no matter how many other things we have to do, it is still most important to listen to Jesus. It probably seems to us that that’s about all there is to learn from this story. That, however, isn’t all there is to learn from it. To understand what else the story can teach us we need to learn some things about the context in which this story was first told.[2] We understand first that the story sets up the culturally standard way in which rabbis like Jesus instructed the people who came to listen to them. (Unfortunately, the rabbis back then were all men. The word rabbi means teacher.) The rabbi would sit in a chair or on something else that elevated him a little bit. The people he was teaching would sit on the floor, thus at a level at least a little bit lower than the rabbi. They would literally sit at the rabbi’s feet. Thus, the story’s first listeners or readers would find nothing odd about a student sitting at a teacher’s feet.

They would find something very odd about Mary doing it. We must understand that in the story’s original culture only men were permitted to sit at a rabbi’s feet and listen to him. Men could sit and learn from a rabbi, women could not. When we understand that truth about the story’s original context, we see how radical, revolutionary even, the story was. Mary has taken the expected gender roles of her culture and overthrown them. Rabbi Jesus approves of her doing so. Mary has taken a place reserved for men. Both the Jewish culture in which Christianity arose and the Greek culture through which it spread were strongly anthropocentric. Men were privileged over women. Men were active in public life, women mostly weren’t. Men studied the texts of their faith, women didn’t. Whether the audience that first heard this story was Jewish or Greek, the men in that audience—there wouldn’t have been any women in it—would have been shocked by what Mary does and probably appalled that Jesus affirms her doing it. That’s how it was with so many things Jesus said and did. He turned the world of his day—and of ours—upside down. That, I think, is the primary lesson Luke wanted to make with this story. At least that’s what I have long taken to be the story’s primary lesson. I still do.

Now, obviously, I have done something here other than just look at the text of the story. I have delved into the world behind the text, into the story’s original context. I have used what I found there in finding meaning in the story. So have I violated my professors’ mantra, “Stick to the text”? Though it may seem that I have, I actually haven’t. Rather, I have used a customary and necessary tool for understanding any text, namely, an examination of the text’s original context. When we do that we often find new meanings in the text that we’d never discover merely by reading the story in our context. We have learned things the story’s author could assume his audience knew but that we can’t assume anyone knows today. If we have read anything into the story, it is only what the author originally assumed.

So back to my friend and colleague. As we discussed this story, he wanted to consider what it would mean if we assumed that Mary didn’t just listen to Jesus but entered into conversation with him about the things he was saying to her. In our contemporary context, that surely would happen. In our world students interact with their teachers all the time. Some of the richest learning comes from that interaction. When my friend started talking about Mary doing that I said, “but the story doesn’t say that.” It says she listened to him and nothing more. To think or speculate that she did something other than that is to read something into the story that just isn’t there. This friend of mine also wanted to assume that Martha heard Jesus and Mary speaking with each other. Could Martha have heard them? Perhaps, but the story doesn’t say that she did. Neither does it say she didn’t. I said this story, like most Bible stories, is skeletal storytelling. It gives us just enough facts to make its point. The author of the story didn’t need to say anything about Martha hearing them or not hearing them to make the main point he wanted to make with the story. So he didn’t say anything about it. We don’t hear this story the way its original audience did even when we have learned important things about the story’s original context. That context is not our context. This story does of course have something to say to us about gender roles even though our world is not quite as anthropocentric as Jesus’ world was, or as Luke’s world was too. But that truth doesn’t mean we can legitimately make up facts to insert into the story.

Because so much biblical storytelling is so bare bones, we often have questions that the story we’re reading neither asks nor answers. The Parable of the Prodigal Son is a good example. You’ll find it at Luke 15:11-32. We have questions like: What specifically did the son do while he was off squandering his inheritance? People often say he consorted with prostitutes, but the story doesn’t say that he did. Did he ever get any more of his father’s estate? Did he actually work for his father as a hired hand as he had planned? Did he and his brother ever reconcile? I have all of those questions about this parable, and I have heard other people wonder about them as well. Yet I avoid projecting speculative answers to those questions into the story. Answers to them just aren’t necessary for the story to make its central point about unconditional grace. I suppose we can make up answers to our questions if we want, but doing so is really nothing but idle speculation, so why bother?

So I’ll say again what my seminary professors said to me so many times years ago: Stick with the text! Work with it. Study what scholars have said about it. (There’s absolutely nothing in the Bible that scholars haven’t worked to death.) Learn about the story’s original context. Wrestle with any linguistic ambiguities the story has, and the Bible is full of linguistic ambiguities. Compare different translations of the story. All of those things are legitimate, helpful, and appropriate things to do. Reading things into the text, or ignoring things in the text for that matter, isn’t. So I’ll close where I started: “Stick with the text!”

 



[1] My seminary was the School of Theology and Ministry of Seattle University, a Roman Catholic university. One of the very few shortcomings of the MDiv program there was that we didn’t get as many courses on the Bible as students in Protestants seminaries do. Roman Catholicism doesn’t put the Bible as high on its list of authorities as most Protestants do, hence, fewer classes on it.

[2] For my purposes here it doesn’t matter whether the event this story recounts actually happened or not. We approach it the same way whether it did or not.

Saturday, July 9, 2022

Wence Comes Our Help?

 This is the text of a sermon I'm going to give tomorrow, via Zoom, for St. Paul's UCC in Seattle. It's a church that could use a good deal of help.

Whence Comes Our Help?

A Sermon for St. Paul’s United Church of Christ

Seattle, Washington

July 10, 2022

 

Scripture: Luke 10:25-37

 

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

 

 

Here’s a truth for this morning. No matter how strong we are, no matter how self-reliant we like to be, we all need help from time to time. No individual lives an entirely isolated life. Neither does any human institution, including the church. We all have difficult times in our lives, and so do our institutions. The formerly mainline Protestant churches have been having a difficult time for the past several decades. I imagine that we all have places we might look for help—family, friends, the government, or even the church. There is no shame in needing help. It is a perfectly human thing to do.

In our scripture for this morning Jesus tells a parable about a man who needed help, the well-known and well-loved Parable of the Good Samaritan. We all know the primary moral of this parable—help people in need. Don’t pass by on the other side of the road. That lesson certainly is there, and it is important. It may, however, be less well-known that there are a lot of other lessons in this parable too. To get those lessons out of it, however, we need to understand some things in the first century CE context in which Jesus told the parable that many people don’t understand. So if you do know these things, bear with me while I give a bit of a history lesson for those who don’t.

There are four characters in this parable we need to know something about. Two of them are clergy from the Jerusalem temple. One is a priest. The priests were the top of the Jewish hierarchy at the time. They worked only in the temple. They were the ones who performed the animal sacrifices that were Judaism’s primary form of worship at the time. Another of them was a Levite. A Levite was essentially an assistant priest. They also worked only in the Jerusalem temple. Then there is the man called only “an expert in the law.” There were such people who were not priests. The law in question is the Torah law, and all three of these characters would see themselves as the keepers, teachers, and defenders of that law.

Then there is the Samaritan. Samaritan doesn’t mean here someone who does a good deed for another. It designates the man as a member of a certain ethnic group. The Samaritans were a people who lived in Palestine more or less between Judea and Jerusalem to the south and Galilee to the north. They were the remnant of what centuries earlier had been the northern Hebrew kingdom of Israel. The Assyrian Empire conquered that kingdom and exiled most of its residents in 722 BCE. A few of the Jewish people of the kingdom remained. They evolved into the Samaritans, one of whom appears in this story.

Here's the thing you need to keep in mind. The Jews of Jesus’ day hated Samaritans. The Samaritans traced their heritage back to the Jewish patriarch Jacob and through him to Abraham. But faith was different from orthodox Judaism in a few ways. Those ways don’t matter to us, but they mattered a lot to Jesus’ first century Jewish audience. Jews avoided Samaritans, probably considered them to be ritually unclean. The Jews had no time for the Samaritans at all.

Now the parable itself. In it a man identified only as “an expert in the law” asks Jesus a question. We’re told he does it to “test” Jesus. He asks: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (I wish Luke had told us here what he means by “eternal life,” but he didn’t). In response Jesus does what he so often does. He doesn’t give an answer, he asks a different question, a habit of his that I imagine sometimes drove people nuts. He asks the lawyer what he finds in the law relevant to his question. The lawyer responds by reciting what we know as the Great Commandment—basically love God, neighbor, and self. Jesus says yes, you’ve got it. But the lawyer isn’t satisfied. He asks Jesus who his neighbor is. This time Jesus doesn’t respond with a question. He responds with a parable, the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

We’re told that a man traveling the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was robbed, beaten, and left on the side of the road half dead. He obviously needs some significant help, and he needs it now. So first a priest and then a Levite, both clergy from the Jerusalem temple, come walking down the road. Jesus’ audience very probably would have expected them to stop and help the man. They were supposed to be the good guys. They don’t stop and help the man. They pass by on the other side of the road.

Then the parable takes what would have been a shocking turn to Jesus’ audience. A Samaritan sees the beaten man lying by the side of the road. Jesus’ audience is Jewish, and, as I’ve already said, all of them hated Samaritans. They would have been shocked when Jesus says that it was the Samaritan who helped the beaten man. They expected nothing good from a wretched Samaritan. Yet he is the one who stops to help the man. He cares for him and is generous with his money in providing for him. Surely Jesus’ audience thought, “Really? A miserable Samaritan? You’ve got to be kidding!” But Jesus wasn’t kidding. In his parable the beaten man’s help doesn’t come from the people his audience would have expected. It comes from a Samaritan, the last place in the world most Jews would have thought it would come from. Some of Jesus’ listeners probably thought he’d gone mad.

But you know, that’s how it works sometimes in our lives. I’ll give you an example out of my own life. I used to be a lawyer, but starting in about 1994 I started to burn out on law big time. I’d hit a wall. I couldn’t go on as I had been living, but I could see no way around the wall. I was getting pretty depressed about it. I had developed a strong interest in good Christian theology by then, and I served as Moderator of Richmond Beach UCC, but I couldn’t construct a way forward. I was, metaphorically speaking, like the beaten man in Jesus’ parable.

Then not just help but salvation came to me from a totally unexpected source, Seattle University. It’s a Roman Catholic university. It’s even a Jesuit university. I’m not Catholic. I have never been Catholic. I guess I knew that SU granted a Master of Divinity degree, the ordination degree in the UCC and other Protestant denominations, but it had never occurred to me to go earn one. Then in the summer of 1997 Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry, the part of the university that provided the MDiv and other pastoral programs, announced the creation of something called the Institute of Ecumenical Theological Studies. They’d work it out with representative of several different Protestant denominations, including the UCC. IETS as we came to call it, was meant specifically for Protestant divinity students at that Catholic University. Somehow, I knew I had to enroll in IETS’s MDiv program. I didn’t really know why, but I knew. Seattle University, a school of a type of Christianity that was not mine, unexpectedly became my way out of no way. It is a big part of the reason I’m sitting here preaching to you today.

I think there’s a profound lesson here for all of us as individuals and as people who love our Christian church and want it to thrive beyond its current difficult condition. When things get tough, trusting in God, we can have good hope for a better future. The thing is, though, that we very probably won’t know how that future will happen until it happens. They say God works in mysterious ways. One mysterious way God works is by providing God’s people help from entirely unexpected sources.

So our lesson this morning is that when we’re in trouble we must keep our eyes and minds open. We must look for help in places where we think there’s no help to be had. There aren’t any Samaritans around, and, sadly, Seattle University has closed its School of Theology and Ministry. But help can still come to us from totally unexpected places. So, if we are wise, when we’re in trouble we’ll trust in God, pray without ceasing, and open ourselves to the totally unexpected. The help we all need may well come from a source that will shock us the way Jesus’ good Samaritan shocked his audience so long ago. We might be shocked, but we just might also find salvation. May it be so. Amen.