Jesus in a ’49 Ford (Owed to Marshall Grant)
Music legend Marshall Grant, an original member of Johnny Cash’s backing band The Tennessee Three, died last weekend. I had the honor of meeting him about three years ago at the Johnny Cash Flower-Pickin’ Festival in Starkville.
After a lengthy time of touring with Cash and acting as his road manager, Grant went on to manage the career of another Cash-act, the Statler Brothers. Throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s the Statler Brothers were one of the best-selling groups in country music.
While Grant was managing them, they wrote and sang a song titled, “Would You Recognize Jesus?”
Would you recognize Jesus if you met him face to face;
or would you wonder if He’s just someone you couldn’t place?
You may not find Him coming in a chariot of the Lord
Jesus could be riding in a ’49 Ford.
~ ~ ~
The 2005 Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly was just weird.
Rather than being – like most conventions – centered downtown in a major city with hotels clustered around a convention center, this particular one was at a new self-contained convention center/resort complex outside of Dallas in Grapevine, TX. The Gaylord Texan is the name of this luxurious world unto itself.
Here were thousands of Cooperative Baptists, largely white middle-class folks, going to conferences and attending sessions challenging us to address poverty issues and racial issues and justice issues from the pulpit, in Sunday school classes, and in our individual and collective actions.
Visually, the contrast was overwhelming: white folks wanting to serve God and follow Christ and deal with poverty and racism, being served and spoiled and pampered by hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of Hispanic workers.
Hispanics – some speaking very little English – making our beds. Carrying our luggage. Waiting our tables. Cleaning our bathrooms. Picking up our trash. Bringing us our extravagantly overpriced “luxurious” foods and drinks.
I attended the final morning’s Leadership Scholar breakfast for seminary students. Again, the overwhelming majority of us white and being waited on by an almost 100% Hispanic workforce.
Hispanic waiters and waitresses were constantly coming to our tables offering coffee, orange juice, more water, or more coffee, or to take our plates.
Fellow students from numerous CBF-affiliated seminaries and I were talking at the table – trying to envision ourselves peace-makers and justice-seekers in the midst of such luxury – when a waiter leaned over my shoulder and offered to pour me some coffee.
I looked up to say “no thanks” and to apologize for our spoiled arrogance; it actually crossed my mind to get up, let him sit in my seat, and I’ll pour him coffee and go get him some breakfast …
But when I looked up, I could not speak. I heard in the most clearly audible voice – though he was saying nothing – “I came not to be served but to serve. I’d like to pour you some coffee.”
I said nothing as I held out my fine coffee cup. At my eye level was the waiter’s name tag pinned to his chest.
J – E – S – U – S .
And I heard the voice again: “I came not to be served but to serve. Just shut up and just let me serve you today, Bert.”
Jesus was right in front of me and I didn’t recognize him. If not for the name tag …
I was too caught up in my own agenda – in Christ’s name of course – to have ever noticed. I was meeting him face-to-face and I didn’t recognize Jesus.
One of the biblical stories that really fascinates me is the one where some guys are walking along the road to Emmaus after the resurrection; these were guys who knew Jesus personally. And there is Jesus walking with them and talking with them, but they don’t even recognize him. He’s a total stranger to them.
Until … until they invite this stranger into their house. Until … until they invite the stranger to sit at their table and share a meal. Until … the stranger takes over and breaks the bread and gives thanks. The stranger being welcomed and being served becomes the one to take what is present and serve those who are present with him.
THEN their eyes are opened, and THEN they know Jesus is with them …
~ ~ ~
Thanks to Robbie Ward and the Flower-Pickin’ Festival, I shook the hand of Marshall Grant; the hand that managed Johnny Cash and the hand that managed the Statler Brothers, whose song is one of the most simplistically profound expressions of the Gospel:
Would you recognize Jesus if you met him face to face
or would you wonder if He’s just someone you couldn’t place?
You may not find Him coming in a chariot of the Lord
Jesus could be riding in a ’49 Ford.
~ ~ ~
Learn more about Bert at his website.
I’ve Given Up Reading from Cover to Cover
Do you remember those church offering envelopes with the check-off boxes? One of them was “Daily Bible Reading.” My generation was encouraged to do it all, check all the boxes, and score 100% for the week. I remember some pastors who studied the reports and often included statistics in their sermons. Only 42% of you read your Bibles this week!
I was a 100-percent guy almost every week. I did sometimes have problems with that box labeled “Contacts”; but I finally figured out that a guy couldn’t get through a week without some kind of “contact.” Of course, I knew that “contact” meant “evangelistic contact,” but, hey, a contact is a contact. Right?
That’s about as right as suggesting that looking at the pages of the Bible is Bible reading. Yet, some days are just so busy that the best one can do is a hurried glance, a fast read of the Bible. Better fast than not at all, right?
There really is more to Bible reading than reading. Reading it from cover to cover may be an accomplishment, but one wonders what has been accomplished. Did God really speak to you as you read through the begats? Was the list of laws from Leviticus deeply inspiring? How about the numbering in Numbers? Do you feel more spiritual having counted your way through?
I’ve read the Bible through—from cover to cover—more than once. I don’t think I’ll do that again. I’ve found a better way to read Scripture. I still read it almost every day, but I no longer beat myself up for missing a day or two.
My better way is to read more slowly, to savor the words I read, and to attempt to enter into dialog with those words and the Word behind them. Once in a while I will hang up on one passage, sometimes even one verse, for a whole week. Can one ever completely fathom the depths of the words of Psalm 139: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me . . . and are acquainted with all my ways”?
Productive Bible reading is not about how many verses or chapters we read per day. Productive Bible reading is the reading which brings us into the presence of the Living God and finds us daring to enter into dialog, a dialog in which honesty prevails and growth ensues. Bible reading done right becomes prayer. In rare and truly holy moments, Bible reading becomes the doorway to the mystical moment in which Jesus’ prayer (John 17) becomes true, at least for the moment: We become one with him and with God. When that happens, no one needs to tell us that Scripture “is breathed out by God. . . .”
Read your Bible, if not today, tomorrow; and when you read it, don’t rush. A good conversation always has some moments of silence.
Read more from Michael R. Duncan at his new blog.
Basil of Moscow, the Blessed, Wonderworker, Prophet
In 1468, Basil was born near Moscow to a poor family of serfs. Their poverty had a lasting impact upon Basil in a variety of ways: 1) Basil learned what it meant to be impoverished, 2) Basil was not tempted to affluent disregard like so many of his contemporaries, and 3) Basil gained a powerful prophetic voice by virtue of his upbringing. In spite of their poverty they arranged to have their son sent off to be apprenticed to a cobbler. Making and repairing shoes would not be a luxurious or respectable job but it would be a way to make a steady living.
Though he was a cobbler by profession, he was a holy fool by vocation. As a holy fool, he followed in the footsteps ofEzekiel the Prophet and engaged in foolishness in a prophetic fashion. By refusing to live by people’s expectations, he constantly challenged people to reconsider what they felt and believed. A holy fool redefines foolishness.
For example, Basil would walk barefoot through the streets of Moscow during the blazing Summer. He would, seemingly without cause or rationale, turn over a table of food or pour out jugs of wine. Only later would it be found out that the food was improperly cooked or the wine poisonous. With their limited knowledge, the people would judge Basil to be an idiot and an incompetent but this was because they could not see and understand what Basil could. Until they would learn, they would beat and abuse Basil. Basil, in the fashion of his Lord and Savior, would accept these punishments wordlessly and compassionately. Though he was saving their lives, they abused him. In their ignorance, they scorned their salvation–a beautiful image for those who might reflect upon the life and death of Jesus.
Once, there was a merchant who had fallen upon hard times when thieves had stolen everything he owned. He was penniless and, yet, his clothes suggested his former wealth. As he begged alms on the street for food and assistance, people would pass him by thinking he was nothing morethan a greedy and evil man. He could not simply lose his clothes as they were all he had left and, yet, he would not 
receive any help because the people knew him by what he had before he lost it. Basil, with the true-sight of a holy fool and prophet, recognized the merchant for what had happened. He gave the man a great gift he had received. The merchant went, sold it, and was able to buy back all that had been stolen from him. Basil was able to see the heart of the person when everybody else saw only the appearance. Once again, Basil understood what others missed.
Perhaps the greatest feat of this holy fool was his encounter with Ivan the Terrible. Ivan attended church services but Basil was unconvinced that it was anything more than a show of pseudo-spirituality for political purposes. Ivan had earned the title “the Terrible” butBasil had no fear of this man who spent time in church services daydreaming about building palaces. During Lent, when the people were not eating meat, Basil approached Ivan at dinner and slammed down a large piece of bloody meat on the table in front of Ivan. Ivan protested that he did not eat meat for it was Lent. Basil responded, “You eat and drink the blood and flesh of those you kill and torture…” Ivan, in an unexpected turn, did not punish Basil. Instead, he would be a pall-bearer at Basil’s eventual funeral.
For the people of Moscow, Basil was an oddity that one hoped to avoid for the most part. His tearful prayers over the houses of sinners and outcasts must surely have gathered some confusion and derision. And, yet, Basil was comfortable in his calling as a fool for Christ. He saw what others could not or would not see. His values were not the same as the world’s. He was a citizen of the Kingdom of God and his life was foolishness to the people he sojourned among.
Read more from Joshua at his personal website and the website of Grace and Main Fellowship, the non-traditional community he ministers with.
God is in Control… Really?
There seems to be ever-growing numbers of people who are convinced that God has a finger on the pulse of everything and everybody. In Baptist circles, in particular, we have a new breed of minister and believer who is stressing the Sovereignty of God. Among them are those who say that God’s sovereignty is absolute, that nothing happens without God being the force behind it.
I must confess that there is something comforting and freeing about the idea. If God is sovereign, if God is behind all that happens, there is a reason behind all that happens—even, as we’re often told, behind those things we can’t understand but will someday. If God is sovereign, I am not responsible. I do what I do because somehow what I do, good or bad, is part of the sovereign will of God. If God is sovereign, I need not wrestle with the hard questions of life—why some children are born horribly deformed and with mental deficiencies, why an earthquake devastates the island of Japan or a why a madman goes on a killing rampage, or why terrorists fly planes into buildings or why a young father lies immobile in his hospital bed receiving meds in the hope that his Multiple Sclerosis will once again relapse. We just can’t understand it, but God has a reason.
Yes, there is something comforting and freeing about the idea of God’s sovereignty, but not in the way in which it is often believed and presented. The God revealed in Jesus is not a god who kills the innocent to get to the guilty. Jesus’ God does not afflict the healthy to make them strong. Jesus’ God does not take away human will and human responsibility. Jesus’ God sets us free to live as the persons we were created to be. Jesus’ God is not the God who sends an earthquake to devastate a land; Jesus’ God is the God who huddles with the masses as destruction occurs—comforting the afflicted, weeping with those who mourn, and pointing beyond the moment, reminding us that there is life in death, a way through the darkness, redemption and resurrection.
I, too, believe in the sovereignty of God. I believe God reigns and that God’s purposes shall never be ultimately thwarted. I believe so much in the sovereignty of God that I do not fear that tornadoes or earthquakes or famines or wars or our sins will keep God’s will from being realized. I do not believe that tornadoes or earthquakes or famines or wars or our sins are God’s will. In fact, I believe they are the opposite of God’s will. Yet, God reigns. God, who was and is and shall ever be, reigns!
In the midst of the horrible and the good, God is; and where God is, the Divine purpose is always the same—to work for good. So believes the young father who lies in his hospital bed suffering from Multiple Sclerosis. “God didn’t give me this; but he has made it possible for me to discover that MS does not rob me of my living or of the opportunity to bear witness to God’s goodness.”
I often argue with the Apostle Paul; but in Romans 8, he got a few things right. God doesn’t cause everything; but God does work in and through all things for good. Thanks be to God!
Read more from Michael at his blog.
The Already, But Not Yet
In C.S. Lewis’s classic, “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” Lucy and her three older siblings are sent to live with a Professor in the English countryside in order to escape the Blitz – the Nazi German bombing of Britain. Now this professor lives in an incredibly large house. And, of course, when you are a child, there is one perfect thing to do in an incredibly large house – play hide and seek.
So that’s exactly what they do. Lucy hides in a wardrobe and realizes she is rather cold. She wraps herself in a coat and tries to press herself to the very back wall so that she is as hidden as possible. And she discovers something interesting – there is no back wall. Instead she finds that she is in a forest – in the winter. And she stumbles upon a faun.
She is in another world, there in the midst of her own. She stays with the faun until evening, sharing tea, conversation and music. When Lucy finally steps back into the wardrobe, she is convinced that her siblings are going to be sick with worry – only, no time has passed at all. And not a single one of her siblings believes her story of the world in the wardrobe.
Paul would have been sympathetic to Lucy. His contemporaries knew there were two worlds – or ages. There is the present age and the age to come – easy enough, right? The present age was known as an age of sin and death. The new age was when God would bring all of creation into relationship – when God wouldn’t just be God of the Israelites, but of all nations and all creatures. Paul believed that Jesus ushered in the beginning of that new age, but we won’t be fully there until Christ’s return. They were – and we are – living in the “already, but not yet:” two worlds at once – the present age and the age to come are coexisting.
Part of that belief was that these new Gentile believers – Gentile meaning anyone who isn’t a Jew – didn’t need to convert to Judaism in order to follow God. Did anyone here become Jewish in order to follow Jesus? There’s a reason for that: we, as Christ followers – as Christians – believe Paul. The idea of converting to Judaism to follow Christ may seem strange to us, but back in the first century, it was a huge debate – the topic is discussed in several of Paul’s letters. The first followers of Christ weren’t a separate religion from Judaism – they WERE Jews. They went to synagogue and studied Torah. Paul was one of them – a Jew, but a Jew stating that Jesus opened things up for the rest of us, to include us in the family of God, too. This signaled the new age.
And that is important as we look at today’s text. We read that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” But do we believe that?
In the news right now, we hear of jobs that could be lost over issues related to the debt ceiling. We hear that severe famine has been declared in Africa and is claiming the lives of countless people. We hear of farmers along the river who are losing crops and nutrient-rich soil due to all the flood waters and those in Texas who are desperate for water.
On Tuesday, I attended the funeral of a 28-year-old girl who spent the last few years homeless, relying on the kindness of friends for places to stay. By the time she went to the clinic for the pain she was feeling, she had stage 4 breast cancer. Four months after her diagnosis, she was gone.
On Friday, a bomb went off in Norway, killing over 92 people. A twin attack occurred at a Norway youth camp where a shooter chased 600 people down a hill and into a body of water. People tried desperately to hide or swim to safety. The news is already telling the stories of those who played dead while others were falling around them. The gunman shot and killed at least 85 people. The person arrested and being tried for the crime is labeled by the media as a right-wing Christian fundamentalist. A Christian. One of us.
Where is the good in those situations? Do those people just not love God enough? Are they not called according to God’s purpose?
It is easy to say that the good comes from those who rally together to provide relief. Or those who were blessed as a result of the deceased’s lives.
But what do we say to those caught in cycles of abuse? Those whose families – generation after generation – beat submission into spouse and children? I can’t help but wonder if our attempts at calling something in those sorts of situations “good” isn’t merely doing a disservice to those who are genuinely hurting.
Until the new age is fully here, we have situations that are painful – some that may even be Hell on Earth. You have watched people live them – perhaps you have lived them yourselves. Living in the “Already, But Not Yet” gives us the ability to name bad situations for what they are – to allow time and space for grieving, suffering and healing. We can recognize and stand with those who are in terrible circumstances without the need to call them something different or pretend that all is well.
But – BUT – we aren’t left there.
If we look back a few verses – into the lectionary readings for last week – we’ll see words about hope, about how all of creation is waiting eagerly, is longing for the revealing of the children of God, waiting for the day that we will all be adopted. The new age has begun, but it isn’t fully here. So we hope.
We can smell dinner cooking and may even be eating the first course, but we haven’t reached the main course yet – or, my favorite, dessert. God is working to reconcile the world – to put all of the creation into a right relationship with each other. We aren’t there yet, but we see hints.
We see those hints as people work together to protect the Earth’s precious resources. We see those hints as people resist spending all their money on themselves, but instead set some aside for those in need. We see those hints as men and women stand up for those who are being treated poorly.
We get to help bring about this new age – we pray for it every week as we say the Lord’s Prayer together “thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.” This “new age” is the kingdom of God. It is God’s will being done here, in our neighborhood. We don’t always know what that looks like, but Paul assures us that the Holy Spirit is interceding on our behalf – filling in the parts of our prayers that are beyond our understanding, beyond our ability to ask.
Paul asks “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.’”
Paul’s questions recognize the very real problems that people faced – that he faced. He knew the way certain groups persecuted – and even killed Christians. He had been part of that group before his own conversion. He knew that he was a prime target for it now. Paul spent time in prison, had people make pact to kill him. But his answer is beautiful, “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 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.”
I don’t know what you are going through today, what difficulties you face. I do know that they are real – that life can be incredibly difficult. I hope you know today that you are not alone, but that the God who created you is with you through all things. I hope you know that the Spirit is praying on your behalf. Thanks to Jesus, we can see the hope of something amazing – of a new world.
For we know that neither death nor life, cancer nor terrorism, nor powers, nor governments, nor debt ceilings, nor economies…Nothing. NOTHING can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
Read more from Jennifer at her blog.
I’m Sorry to Yell God, But I Can’t Hear You for All the Shouting!
I accept your apology upfront if you have to ask me to repeat something I just said.
After all, you can’t help it that there is so much shouting going on around us it makes it hard to hear you, let alone what God may be telling us.
You see, we have become a society of shouters and yellers, and it just feeds on itself. We can’t get our ideas and opinions out because someone else is yelling and shouting, so we decide to yell and shout to get heard. We’re just like the class of fourth-graders I had when I substitute taught. Let them start talking at a whisper, and then two people start talking louder, and then another two start talking louder until everyone is yelling and I had to tell them all to be quiet.
Underlying this din of noise is our own inflated opinion that everyone wants to know what we have to think on any subject. So to get heard, we start yelling.
Now let me get this out in the open. We all have opinions and there is nothing wrong with sharing our thoughts and beliefs. It is how we share them that often becomes the hindrance.
We have to look no further than internet news sites that allow comments to be posted after stories. Look at the recent furor after the acquittal of Casey Anthony of the charges she murdered her daughter. I’m not going to debate the outcome of the trial, but the way the jurors have been treated has been outrageous.
These are everyday citizens who were doing their duty required by law and based their decision on the evidence and whether it matched the guidelines to get a conviction based on those charges. Yet because of the society we live in today with instant comments and plenty of platforms to shout our opinions, people took it upon themselves to convict the jurors, sending death threats and using the internet to vilify them.
I’m also reminded of a sermon delivered by our pastor last summer. He said that part of society’s problem is that we have forgotten that we are dealing with human beings. When we are so anxious to get share our opinions and beliefs that we are yelling, shouting and generally putting down and disregarding those that would disagree with us, we no longer treat them as humans but misguided souls that need to be put on the correct path – generally our path.
I wonder sometimes what God thinks of all of our ranting and raving and “I’m right and everybody who disagrees with me is wrong” mentality. Is this the best way to shine God’s love – by yelling and shouting? How would we know how God wants us to share the message of love and forgiveness? We can’t hear a thing!
I’m reminded of Elijah out on the mountain waiting to feel God’s presence. The thunderous earthquake, roaring wind and hot flames were not God’s presence. It was in the gentle whisper that Elijah heard God’s presence.
I wonder how much more civilized our discourse would be if we stopped using thundering oratory and inflammatory speech, and instead used a quieter voice to reach out to others. Perhaps then the world will see God through our actions.
And we could hear each other.
Steve McClain is a professional writer/editor who mostly covered sports for 17 years before getting off the playground and getting a real job with real hours. He lives in Georgetown where is a member of Faith Baptist Church and chair of the Youth Committee.
The NASCAR Bible Lesson
Just a few miles up I-71 from where I live is the Kentucky Speedway. For three days (July 7, 8, & 9), there were big happenings–three races, including a cup race on Saturday night. As one might expect, there was a lot of hype and publicity. The owner of the track bragged that the cup race would outpace the Kentucky Derby. If he was thinking in terms of chaos and traffic jam, he was 100% correct.
On Saturday prior to race time, traffic was backed up for miles north and south on I-71. The problem? Well, one problem was that the race track has only two gates by which fans can enter. When many of the 107,000 fans tried to arrive mid-afternoon, the gates proved to be too few for the many. Some fans never got inside; some turned away after sitting in traffic for two or more hours; and some got inside the gates but couldn’t find a places to park.
The fans caught in the jam were not happy, and they spread the blame around. Some blamed the track; others the Kentucky Department of Transportation; and some the Kentucky State Police, who were somehow expected to solve the traffic flow problem. The radio talk shows and the TV news provided lots of coverage and plenty of fodder for the unrest. Not everyone was unhappy. One fan who called in to a local radio call-in show expressed an interesting idea. He blamed the fans. “They all waited until the last minute to try to get into the track.” He then told that he and his family had left around 8:00 a.m., arrived at the track and enjoyed a picnic lunch, and then found their seats in the arena. “No problem,” he stated, “if you planned ahead.”
Plan ahead? Jesus had something to say about that. Remember the wedding that included ten bridesmaids, five wise and five foolish (Matthew 25:1-13). The wise took oil and lamps, while the foolish took only their lamps. Although the arrival of the bridegroom was delayed, the foolish did not use wisely their time. When news came announcing the bridegroom’s arrival, five maids were ready. The other five scurried about, begging oil from the wise. The wise were, and they protected their supply. At the midnight hour, the foolish rushed out to buy oil, which they found; but when they returned the door to the wedding feast was shut.
The NASCAR Bible lesson: Plan ahead. . . and remember that sometimes the best way is narrow. Leave early and allow plenty of time.
Read more from Michael R. Duncan at his new blog.
God’s Mercy is How Big?
I spent last week at the annual Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America conference, better known as Peace Camp. It was my first year attending, but my church has a longstanding relationship with the Peace Fellowship so I’ve been hearing all about this group for years and I couldn’t have been more excited to see it in person. The experience was everything I had hoped for and more; an awesome week in community with people who practice the same kind of progressive, peace-loving theology I do; beliefs that, until a few years ago, I felt relatively alone in holding. There’s something very comforting about spending time with people who come from the same perspective you do and can affirm the direction you’re going. Weeks later, you can still feel that community holding you up and encouraging you to keep going. Everyone there seemed to feel the same way, especially people who had been long time participants; like they were plants that had been living in the shade and were soaking up a rare moment of sun to sustain them through everything else.
Well, it turns out not everyone there was having quite that experience. When I got to lunch on Friday afternoon, the last few days of camp, I had barely settled into my chair before someone asked me, “Did you hear about the spy?” Turns out, we had a mole of sorts at Peace Camp; a reporter from the Institute on Religion and Democracy who wrote a series of blogs about our crazy pacifist teachings and misguided welcoming and affirming theology. I didn’t think much of it; in my mind, this was one blogger taking individual people’s statements out of context and creating a straw man so he could attack the entire group. But the thing about the internet is that nothing is ever that isolated. The president of the IRD took this man’s “reporting” and wrote an article about us, which got the attention of other bloggers, which led to articles on bigger and more important websites. Now, it’s not like the situation has made the national news or anything, but it became pretty hard to ignore when I googled the Peace Fellowship earlier this week and the third result was an article condemning the organization.
Two things about this whole scenario are very interesting to me. First, a conversation the young adults had while planning the closing service of the conference. One of the students commented that we ought to use some of the statements that had been made about us in these articles, using the blogger’s own words against him, as it were. We didn’t end up incorporating this into the service, but as the days have gone by and more articles have appeared, I’ve been very struck by how right my friend was. These authors are calling us out for things like Christian pacifism and acceptance of gay and lesbian Christians into our community, labels that we gladly apply to ourselves. Some of the statements I read in this article actually made me rather proud; I found myself think, “That’s exactly what we’re about, and I’m glad someone’s hearing us!” It’s a bit odd to hear someone using as an insult identifying words and phrases that I had always been glad to claim as my own. Are the camps of Christianity really so different that the language doesn’t even mean the same thing to all of us anymore?
This led me to a broader thought process, beyond my theological identity as a pacifist or a welcoming and affirming church member, looking instead at my identity as a Baptist. This identity is often what I point to when people ask me about my “odd” theological ideas. I’ve been raised on the Baptist theological ideas of priesthood of all believers and the importance of interfaith dialogue; basically, the idea that everyone’s theology is valid in so much as it is life-giving to them. The Baptist world, to my mind, is what gives me room to be the kind of Christian I am, and gives that reporter from the IRD the room to be the Christian he is. Roger Williams said, “We find not in the Gospel, that Christ hath anywhere provided for the uniformity of churches, but only for their unity.”
We talked a lot about the wideness of God’s mercy at Peace Camp. When I used that phrase during the communion service on Saturday, I was saying that the wideness of God’s mercy welcomed all the different people in the room to the table: rich or poor, young or old, gay or straight. What I’ve come to realize in the past few days is that this wideness is also what welcomes the liberal and the conservative, the Catholic and the Protestant, me and that IRD reporter. A good friend of mine told me once that she imagined that when Jerry Falwell got to heaven, God would say, “Come on in Jerry, sit next to this black woman.” Then my friend thought about it for a second and commented that when she got there, God would probably say, “Come on in, sit next to Jerry Falwell.” The community of God is bigger than all of us can imagine. Maybe what we need is for God to grant us some of that holy imagination, so that we can see just how vast the table we’re invited to really is. If we could see that, maybe we’d stop attacking one another for our earthly statements and start loving one another in our holy community.
Binding Dreams
Last week I brought home the new Disney movie “Tangled” from the library. In case you missed out on seeing the movie – or its previews – “Tangled” is a twist on the Rapunzel story. When the Queen is pregnant with Rapunzel, she becomes deathly ill. The only thing that can save her is a miracle – in this case, a golden flower with special healing properties. Folks from the kingdom pluck the flower, turn it into a broth and the queen is healed. Shortly after, a baby girl is born.
Of course, it turns out an evil woman was dependent on this flower to keep herself young. She quickly realized that the girl’s hair now possesses the healing properties of the flower, so she sneaks into the girl’s room and kidnaps her. The old woman keeps Rapunzel in a hidden tower and raises the child as her own.
But the King and Queen never give up on their child. Every year on her birthday, they release floating lanterns in hope that their lost daughter will see them and return. They dream their daughter will come home.
Do you have dreams for your children? I don’t have any kids yet, but I already wish things for them – I want them to grow up knowing they are loved. I want them to be confident and kind. I want them to find jobs doing something that they enjoy – preferably something with a large enough income that they will not need to live with Mom and Dad in their adult years! We all have dreams for our children.
Abraham was no different. Reading through Genesis, it is clear that Abraham had dreams of his own. He dreamed of having children – he and his wife, Sarah, were barren. In a time when children were the only retirement plan, being barren was a serious matter. He dreamed and dreamed of a child – and finally received a son – and then another. I imagine he dreamed of his sons having lots of children of their own. After all, that was God’s promise – “I will make of you a nation.” Perhaps he dreamed that his two sons, Isaac and Ishmael, could grow up together, play together. Maybe he dreamed that the children would bring peace to their mothers.
The beginning of our text shatters that dream: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go into the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering.” The instructions continued, but I wonder if Abraham even heard the words.
My friend, Rabbi Justin Kerber points out that the instruction is rather wordy – couldn’t God have just said “Take Isaac?” And wouldn’t that have been more accurate? – Isaac isn’t Abraham’s only son.
Or is he? I wonder if this isn’t the first time Abraham has been asked to sacrifice a son. In the chapter before our text – chapter 21 – Sarah sees Ishmael playing with Isaac and becomes furious. “Cast them out,” she says. I don’t want THAT boy inheriting what could go to MY son. And we are told that Abraham is distressed because “THAT boy” is his son. THAT boy is a child he loves. But God tells him to listen to Sarah and not be distressed, so he sends Hagar and Ishmael away. And a dream dies.
“After these things God tested Abraham.” I wonder if Abraham didn’t feel the pain long before God said anything about a burnt offering. “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love.” I can’t help but wonder if Abraham begins thinking of another son, whom he also loves. Surely God has not forgotten Ishmael. Then are these words intended to hurt Abraham? To point out that he has a missing son? To remind Abraham that in some sense he has already sacrificed his first son? To make perfectly clear that following this request would mean the end of the promise God has given Abraham? We don’t know. Perhaps Abraham didn’t know, either.
But just like he did when God asked a younger Abram to “go to the land I will show you,” Abraham simply packs and sets about the task at hand – again not knowing where the journey will lead. Again embarking on a road that will lead to a cutoff from all that is known. The first time, Abraham was leaving behind family, culture and security. In many ways, the journey into the land of Moriah is the same – how will Sarah respond to news of her son’s sacrifice? How will the couple survive without a son to care for them in their old age?
I imagine these questions are circling through Abraham’s head as he leads the donkey, the two men and Isaac on the journey. Three days in, Abraham sees that the place was “far away.” When you travel for that long, there is plenty of time for reflection.
Isaac senses something is wrong. We aren’t told his age. Some say he must be at least 10, because he is able to help carry the supplies. The Jewish tradition says that Isaac is about 37. We know Sarah is 90 when she gives birth to Isaac, and the chapter right after this one refers to Sarah as being 127 years old. All we really know is that Isaac is old enough to make a several day journey and old enough to know that when you go this far to sacrifice something to God, you bring your sacrifice with you. Isaac may be hoping that his elderly father has begun losing his mind. Many scholars point out that child sacrifice was common during this time, so it is entirely possible that Isaac suspected that he was the object of sacrifice.
Isaac’s fears were certainly confirmed when his father bound him and placed him on top of the altar. Have you ever thought about what it must feel like to be sacrificed? To have your father lift a knife over you? To know that God asked him to do this?
And then a voice cuts through the thoughts, the fears, the prayers. “Abraham, Abraham!” He responds “Here I am.” “Don’t hurt the boy!” And Abraham sees a ram caught in a thicket. I don’t know much about rams – and I’m not talking about football, although my husband will be glad to tell you that I don’t know much about that, either. What I do know is that animals caught in something tend to be loud. They thrash around, trying to free themselves. Was Abraham so distressed, so focused that he missed it before?
Through the ram, Isaac is spared. The promise continues. A dream lives. But if you are like me, you are left scratching your head. The God who provided a ram was the same God who asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. The provider was the tester.
What does that say about God? Do we serve the kind of God that would risk our relationships just to test us?
Lest we think this struggle is part of an old system that is changed with the coming of Jesus, let’s look at the New Testament. Remember the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples? We often refer to it as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Many churches pray it together during the Sunday service:
“Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed by thy name
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
On Earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses/sins
As we forgive those who trespass/sin against us
LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION – Don’t test us, Lord!
But deliver us from evil – provide for us.
Don’t test us. As Walter Brueggemann says, “The prayer commended by Jesus is that God should not put us in a testing situation where we are driven to choose, decide and risk for our confession of faith. The prayer is the petition that our situation of faith may not be so urgent that we will be found out. The prayer bespeaks fear that we will be found wanting if such testing comes.”
And don’t we live in that fear – in that question? Our lives are a struggle between testing and provision. “Where is God when disaster strikes?” and “Why did God let this happen to me?” meet “Thank you Lord for opening up this parking space” and “We weren’t hit by that tornado, God was really looking out for us.” So… does God cause trials or does God protect us from them? Is God the giver of dreams or the destroyer of dreams? How can God be both tester and provider? And how is it possible to trust such a God?
You might think this is the part of the sermon where I give all the answers. I have a confession to make: I don’t have any. The question, the struggle, the tension are part of the story. My Hebrew Bible professor, Laura Moore, addresses these passages by saying “there is a reason we call this faith.” And she’s right. Our faith isn’t about knowing the answers. In Philippeans 2, Paul urges the people of Phillipi to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.”
I urge you to continue wrestling with this text. I invite you to welcome the questions and see them not as an enemy of your faith, but as an important part of your faith. Perhaps, like Abraham, we will learn to trust God even when God doesn’t seem to make sense. “There’s a reason we call this faith.”
Read more from Jennifer at her blog.
Religious Practice: A Bizarre Comedy?
Let us consider the sacrificial cult in the days when the Temple stood. Here we are worshiping an infinite, omnipotent G-D and somehow we expect that sacrificing a goat will effect G-D, even cause G-D to change G-D’s mind. We can look back from our lofty vantage point of modern civilization with a tolerant smile at our ancestor’s actions. Surely, from our sophisticated point of view, the Temple service is somewhat amusing. “Oooooo, the creator of all that is is mad at me, I think I will burn up some pigeons so everything will be alright.”
Not like us moderns, so much more sensible in our ritual and religious practice. Really? Praying? Bowing? Blessing candles, wine, and bread? The whole panoply of mitzvot and Jewish practice somehow serves G-D? Do we somehow think The Creator and the Sustainer of all that is is somehow served by our actions? Looked at from outside, doesn’t it all seem a bizarre comedy? Seriously, even if one posits a deeper reality, the existence, however we mean that, of G-D, can we somehow serve G-D? Looking at things dispassionately and intellectually, it all seems rather silly.
I am taking a leaf here from the analysis of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav’s story, “The Humble King” given by scholar Zvi Mark. In looking at the story, Mark comes to the conclusion that Nachman held that our attempts at worship and service are really rather ridiculous. Who, in analyzing our actions could view them as anything other than madness. Yet Nachman prays, keeps the commandments, and seeks to serve G-D. What rescues these actions from pure entertaining silliness for Nachman?
Mark writes
No service of G-D is literally service of G-D-rather, it is all ‘as though.’ The only thing that has value is a person’s desire to come close to G-D, and his desire, which cannot actually be fulfilled, to serve G-D.
These longings and yearnings are the important element in the service of G-D. Attributing independent meaning to various acts of serving G-D such as Torah learning, praying, and miztvot is ridiculous, foolish, and laughable. Only the view of performing mitzvot as mad acts of love transforms them into something forgivable…Acts and games of love have no intrinsic value and, if judged in isolation from the love that impels them, appear as embarrassing acts of madness, without rhyme or reason. So too the value of a religious deed derives from the fact that it is the fruit of love; without desire and yearning, it is simple foolishness.”
This is not to say that Nachman does not want us aware of this. He very much does. In fact, this awareness that we are acting purely out of longing, love, and the desire to cleave to The Holy One seems to be considered a more elevated level of spiritual attainment than simplicity. We are aware that we are as comedians before The King, our purpose is fulfilled if we know that we are comedians. If we take ourselves too seriously then we are merely sad. We offer up a gift we know has no worth in itself merely because we are compelled by our desired to serve and be close; we must do something, anything! Nachman would yet have us carrying out the traditional practices as driven by our yearning, writing, “we learn as if we are learning and pray as though we are praying and perform mitzvot as though we are performing mitzvot.” He writes elsewhere, “And in truth, according to G-D’s greatness, be He blessed, all these modes of service are nothing, but everything is in the way of “as though,” klamersh, for everything is merely a joke when compared to G-D’s greatness, be He blessed.”
There is much that is attractive in the ideas of Nachman as elucidated by Zvi Mark. We understand the unutterable awesomeness of The Holy One and must wonder what can any human being do that will be of service to G-D. Indeed, I have stated before that the efficacy of ritual is to place the worshiper into a receptive mental, emotional, and spiritual state in order to more effectively reach out to G-D. That is, the ritual is in the service of longing and the desire for closeness with The Most High. Similarly, the acts of mitzvot and the round of daily blessings keep G-D before us and remind of the Omnipresent One and help us to infuse the mundane course of our lives with a sense of the deeper holiness that is always there and, thus, help us to cling to the source of holiness. Yet, I do not find this the only way we can serve G-D. That is, I believe we can serve in a way beyond merely “as though” and have the attempted service be of worth not only as a conduit for our longing and a sign pointing to our desire to cling to G-D.
There is an older image from an earlier strata of Hasidic thought. This is the image of G-D as a father and people as G-D’s children. As a father will take delight in playing with his children, we should not make the mistake of believing that the father is on the same level as his children and that the play, though bringing enjoyment to both father and children, is on the same level as the concerns and activities of the father. I also find this image useful and meaningful, yet there is one other way, still on the level of a parent taking delight in a child, but of a deeper level than childish play, that I find useful.
When my daughter, Kate, was a school girl and away at camp, we would, each summer, receive a report on what and how she was doing from her counselor. I remember one summer the counselor reporting that Kate would try to resolve differences and make peace between girls who were fighting and that she would reach out to girls who seemed to be alone and without friends. I took and, indeed, still take great pleasure in this. I received no direct benefit from the action of my child, yet I drew delight and pride from it. My child was growing into a compassionate adult, a peace maker and source of kindness. It would not be a usual way of looking at it, but in becoming a person I was proud of and admiring of, my daughter was serving me.
It may be foolishness on my part, but I believe G-D delights when we live up to the divine image in which we are all made. When we strive and succeed in some measure in being our best possible selves, there is some analog of the silly grin I get on my face sometimes when thinking about my children.
Perhaps it is only in our longing for closeness to G-D that our religious acts have meaning. Or, it could be, that like a parent playing with a young child on the floor, G-D takes delight in our childish attempts to serve him. Each of these holds some truth. But I believe it is when we partake of The Holy within us and act ethically or with kindness or seek to serve others selflessly, that, as a parent seeing a glimmer of an amazing adult growing out of his or her child, G-D takes pleasure in us and is so served.
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