Desert Scribblings

March 15, 2009 - Third Sunday in Lent, Year B

Exodus 20:1-17 - link to the NRSV text

Note: Also see my previous post on the Ten Commandments.

Why does God give us law?

For many people, the idea of God giving law means that God is punitive.  God has to set up rules else everything will descend into chaos, and if you break those rules then you're going to get what you deserve.  Break the law, and you will be punished.  God becomes something on par with The Man, Big Brother, Microsoft: the great power that everything else must bow to.  Law thus becomes strictly a list of dos and don'ts by which God judges and weighs humanity as determinative of their worthiness and holiness.  Law is restrictive, controlling.

Within the concept of covenantal relationship, however, I think law has a little different character.  God gives the law not because it is punitive; the law, in this case the Ten Commandments (or Words) serves as an ordering force for the life of the covenant community.  

And this is something so often ignored when these commands are discussed: they are commands for the covenant people.  "I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me" (Exodus 20:2-3).  The scope of the commandments could be understood as restricted to those who have experienced the mighty grace and mercy of God.

And the law then sets out a pattern of life for the covenant people, of how they are to live in relation with God and with each other.  And these two different relations are not distinct; how we relate to God has an impact on how we relate to others.  And the bridge is found in verse 8-11, in the command about the Sabbath:

But the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God; you shall not do any work-- you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns (Exodus 20:10, emphasis added).

Covenant life with God has a material and physical manifestation; it is not restricted to private religious observance.  Instead, the divine-human relationship pours out into all other relationships, demanding that others receive rest also, that one honors the family, that we do not damage each other through either action (murder, adultery, theft, false testimony) or animosity (coveting the possessions of someone else).

The law provides a pattern of religious and social action that provides a rhythm for day-to-day living. Maybe this idea provides some insight into Jesus' teaching when he said:

You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, 'You shall not murder'; and 'whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.'  But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment...You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery.'  But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.  (Matthew 5:21-22, 27-28).

Maybe Jesus is suggesting that these commands were about more than just right action, but about fundamental human-to-human and divine-to-human relationships.  When actions like murder and adultery are even contemplated, Jesus suggests, the rhythm of covenantal living is interrupted.

But that's not the end of the story, for God's law ("teaching" may be a better translation of torah) is not punitive.  This is not some impartial judge sitting high on a throne and pronouncing guilt for those who diverge.  The one who gave the law gave it out of love and grace: "I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery."  

The law, the Ten Commandments stand as a stark reminder of the rhythm that we are called to adhere to as the covenant people, and as a reminder of how much we struggle to do so.  Yet the God who makes covenant, who makes relationship, is ready to continue to be in covenant.  When the rhythm is interrupted, God comes to show us the way again.  And isn't that part of what Lent is about?  The reminder that our sin is ever present, our brokenness ever before us, but that in God's mighty acts we find new life, that we experience resurrection?

Shalom,

Geoff

November 16, 2008 - Twenty-Seventh Sunday After Pentecost

Judges 4:1-7 - link to the NRSV text

Just as the wilderness narratives had a pattern of crisis-grumbling-providence-deliverance, the book of Judges often follows a pattern of its own: apostasy-oppression-cry for salvation-God raises up a judge.  And as the story goes on, the times of faithfulness seem to shorten while the periods of apostasy seem to lengthen.  The tribes continue this pattern and it gets progressively worse until the end of the book, when the tribes turn on each other and the land descends into civil war (cf. Judges 19-21).

This pattern begins to play out for this generation here in Judges 4:1: "The Israelites again did what was evil in the sight of the LORD," followed by the description of the oppression by Jabin of Canaan and his right-hand man Sisera and is said to have lasted twenty years.  So the Israelites cry out to God, and then we are introduced to Deborah.

Deborah is described as both prophetess and judge, much like Samuel would function as both prophet and judge later in Israel's history.  Functioning as the judge of Israel, Deborah summons Barak from Kedesh of the tribe of Naphtali and gives him some military instructions.

That is where the lection for the day ends, but to really get into it the rest of the story probably needs to be referenced.  In the verse 8, Barak argues that he will go only if Deborah goes as well.  This could very possibly be a editorial insertion to downplay female authority, for verse 7 seems to suggest that she would be leading a seperate force to lure Sisera into Barak's ambush.

This weakening of female power is emphasized by Deborah's assertation that because he asked this, then instead of him receiving the glory for victory it would be given to a woman (at this point, we would presume Deborah).  Battle ensues, with Sisera's troop trounced and Sisera himself fleeing only to find himself on the wrong end of Jael's tent peg (cf. 4:17-24).

The preacher could emphasize God using people the world would normally consider less-than-ideal (Deborah as judge, Jael as the one who defeats Sisera).  And that is a powerful story and one that needs to be heard.

But alternatively, in this day and time, someone could focus less on Deborah and Barak as the instruments of deliverance, but on Israel's apostasy and the pattern of neglect-trouble-need for deliverance.  Think about our financial crisis here in the states and globally.  Think about the rising demand for energy that will most likely occur in the decades to come.  

How are we contributing to these problems through "ungodly" living?  That is, living in ways that are not in harmony with God, with each other, and with the rest of creation?  What are we as people of faith doing or failing to do in order to point the world towards more harmonious life?  How have we "done evil in the eyes of the LORD" through how we use our money, time, and resources that have contributed to the economic situation?

Yet with that comes the word of comfort, that even when we do turn away and God turns us over to the consequences of our actions, God is there when we call and offers us new beginnings.  So the follow up question to "How have we done what is evil in the eyes of God?" is: "So how is God at work in the midst of these circumstances, and how can I be a part of that work like Deborah and Barak?"

Shalom,

Geoff

September 14, 2008 – Eighteenth Sunday After Pentecost

Exodus 14:19-31 - link to the NRSV text

Fear is a reality that we all must deal with in some way.  Personally, heights scare me out of my mind.  Rationally, I knew when I stood on the top of the Empire State building in high school that there was practically no way I could fall off, but I still could not get myself to physically step through the door and outside onto the terrace area.  I spent fifteen minutes trying to work myself up to go through those doors, but I literally could not make myself do it.

 

Some fears, like mine at the Empire State Building, are irrational.  Others are very rational.  Jews in Germany during the Nazi regime had legitimate reason to fear for their lives and the lives of their loved ones.  People living in Iraq or Afghanistan or other war-torn areas of the world surely experience at least uncertainty if not fear at what could possibly happen at any moment with very little to no warning.  Franklin Roosevelt once famously remarked that we have nothing to fear but fear itself, and while it’s a great sound bite most people know that there are things out in the world that do cause fear in the hearts of human beings.

 

In our reading from Exodus this morning, we have the famous story of Israel’s final deliverance from the hand of Pharaoh and the start of their journey into covenant relationship with God.  The story functions as a bridge; in some ways, its themes echo themes found in the stories of the plagues, with Pharaoh’s heart being “hardened” or “stiffened” (Exo 14:8) and the idea of the LORD being made known to Pharaoh (7:17), the Egyptians (7:5, 14:4,18), or Israel (10:2).

 

More properly, however, the story is a part of the wilderness tradition, setting the stage for themes of the uncertainty of the Israelites and God’s deliverance and providence.  Throughout the plague narratives, Israel takes on a mostly passive role, and Pharaoh and Moses (with his side-kick Aaron) are the main players.  Pharaoh and Egypt however become passive in this story, almost secondary as the main drama plays out between God, with Moses as God’s representative, and Israel.

 

The usual pattern follows something along this line: 1) uncertainty or fear over a threat or crisis, 2) the people grumble at Moses, 3) God through Moses provides, and 4) the crisis is averted.  This rough pattern appears (by my count) at least three more times before the giving of the covenant and the Ten Commandments in chapter 20: Exodus 15:22-27 (the bitter water), 16:1-15 (bread from heaven), and 17:1-6 (the water out of the rock).  You can possibly also interpret 17:8-16 in this pattern with the threat of Amalek against the Israelites, and the Golden Calf story in 32:1-14 could be understood as an attempt by the people to replicate this pattern with Aaron when they feared for Moses’ fate on the top of Sinai.

 

In this case, the threat or crisis is the oncoming Egyptian army, and the Israelites are afraid as one could well imagine.  In reaction, they turn on Moses (the grumbling) and ask, “Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness?” (Exo 14:10 NJPS).  Moses instead implore the Israelites to have faith in the God that has already brought them this far.  “The LORD will battle for you,” he argues.  “Hold your peace!” (14:14 NJPS).

 

And so the stage is set for God’s providence and action; the author of the story is working out of the theology of the divine warrior, understanding the LORD as the one who will fight on behalf of Israel against the one who threatens their existence, i.e. Pharaoh. 

 

So God’s angel and the pillar of cloud cut off the Egyptians’ advance and darkness came upon the sky (14:19-20) and then comes the famous cinematic moment: the parting of the sea.  The Israelites are able to cross the muddy ground, but the Egyptians chariots (the very thing that most likely gave them their overwhelming military advantage) are unable to follow and turn to flee but are swept up in the waters

 

And so the fear of the Israelites is relieved and replaced by the fear of the LORD.  This fear, however, is not a fear where one trembles and cringes, but is an awe-struck, overwhelmed sense of wonder at what God has done.  To fear the LORD in biblical language is less about fearing God’s wrath and more about having respect and acknowledgement for God’s power and authority.

 

There are troubling aspects to this story, just as there are in the plague narratives earlier in the book and in the “holy war” stories that follow.  But in terms of this particular story, there is a point where evil must be defined as evil and must be dealt with.  Within the context of Exodus, Pharaoh had dug his own grave.  Time and again he was given the chance to end the conflict without it coming to this point, and instead pursued the Israelites blind to the LORD’s admonitions and warnings through the plagues.

 

I talked about this before when I blogged on the flood narrative, the tension between God’s love and mercy with God’s righteousness and justice.  Evil must be judged and something must be done about it.  Miroslav Volf puts it incredibly well in his book Exclusion and Embrace, which I have referred to on this blog before:

If Augustine was right that “the city of this world…aims at domination, which holds nations in enslavement” and “is itself dominated by that very lust for domination” (Augustine, The City of God, I, Preface), then God must be angry.  A nonindignant God would be an accomplice in injustice, deception, and violence…God will judge, not because God gives people what they deserve, but because some people refuse to receive what no one deserve; if evildoers experience God’s terror, it will not be because they have done evil, but because they have resisted to the end the powerful lure of the open arms of the crucified Messiah (Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, 297-98).

 

The crossing of the sea is a story that transitions a people from fear to awe, from doubt to faith, from cries of despair to shouts of joy and worship.  It is because of the God who heard their cries of injustice and has delivered them that they now can sing and dance with joy, liberated for a new life and new purpose.  It is the LORD who turns fear into joy, who delivers us from those dark places of enslavement and exile and brings us through the deep into a new dawn.

 

The Song of the Sea in chapter 15 sums it up well:

I will sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously;

    horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.

The LORD is my strength and my might,

    and he has become my salvation…

Who is like you, O LORD, among the gods?

    Who is like you, majestic in holiness,

    awesome in splendor, doing wonders? (Exodus 15:1-2a, 11)

 

Who indeed?  Amen.

 

Shalom,

Geoff