Eugenics: the study of methods of improving the quality of the human race, esp. by selective breeding (from Greek eu, "good," + genos, "race, descent." The "science" of eugenics was widely accepted by many in the early twentieth century as the hope for improving the human race. Based on a social rather than scientific application of Darwinism, eugenics led to such atrocities as sterilization of mentally ill patients, laws against miscegenation, institutionalized prejudice against everyone not of Western European descent, and, most horrifically, the state-sponsored genocide of Jews, homosexuals, and Gypsies by Nazi Germany. Eugenics was popular among certain groups of people because it gave them a supposedly scientific reason for believing that they were superior to other people. All humans have the potential to be good (the "eu" part of eugenics), but no one is better than another by right of birth (the "genics" part of eugenics). Instead, goodness is something that must be learned, preferably by imitation, and put into practice. Similarly, no one is born evil, nor are people evil because of their ethnic group or nationality. The Last Words of David, our reading for today, remembers God's covenant with David and with his descendants. God's covenant with David has been a source of inspiration and hope for Jews and Christians alike through the centuries, but how should we understand it today? First, it is important to recognize the character that a ruler is expected to have. The model ruler "rules over people justly, ruling in the fear of God." That is, any ruler who claims to be anointed by God in any sense must be one who seeks to establish justice. Laws and policies that benefit one group of people (say, the citizens of one country, or a subset thereof) to the detriment of others do not establish justice. Second, it is important to avoid thinking of oneself or one's social, ethnic, or national group as superior to another. The author contrasts the godly, those with whom God has made an everlasting covenant, with the wicked, whom he describes as thorns that are good for nothing other than to be burned. As a metaphor, describing the wicked as thorns may be appropriate. However, once we identify the wicked as a particular group of people, and ourselves as the godly, we are in trouble. The passage speaks of the wicked in this way: "They cannot be picked up with the hand; to touch them one uses an iron bar or the shaft of a spear." The imagery, while applicable when applied to thorns to be put into the fire, becomes dangerous when applied to actual people. When we describe others as evil, it becomes all right to treat them as inanimate objects, to prod them with iron or the spear, both instruments of war and brutality. Recent news reports concerning Maher Ara, a Canadian citizen whom U.S. officials deported to Syria, where he was tortured for several months before finally being released, illustrate the danger I'm describing. The man is ethnically an Arab, despite his Canadian citizenship, and he is a Muslim to boot, so anything that happens to him is OK. The fact that so few people are outraged over this and similar incidents suggests that all too many of us have identified ourselves with the godly, and we think of others as the wicked. Jesus set a better example for us than that. Let's follow the example of Jesus rather than the example of other would-be saviors.
My daughter asked me the other day why Jerusalem was considered a holy city. "Because it's sacred to three world religions--Judaism, Christianity, and Islam," I said. "But so many people have died there because of religion, it seems like people would consider it a cursed city instead of a blessed city," she replied. I hadn't ever thought about it in those terms, but she had a valid point. Can a city where thousands of people have died over the ages really be considered holy? In one sense, the death of many people in one place may make future generations consider it hallowed ground; consider the cemeteries at Gettysburg or Wounded Knee. On the other hand, former Nazi concentration camps in Germany, Poland, and elsewhere are thought of primarily as sites of atrocities, not holy ground. What about Jerusalem? The psalmist sings of the city as the resting place of the ark, the very throne of God. "For the Lord has chosen Zion; he has desired it for his habitation." There is an exuberance in the psalm that reminds us that worship is a privilege that we too often take for granted. The psalmist and his contemporaries undoubtedly saw Zion as a holy city, just as many today do. Why, then, does the bloodshed continue there? Is violence appropriate on sacred ground? Of course not! On the contrary, holy places should be refuges from the violence and injustice of the world. The problem with Jerusalem is the idea of ownership. Certain factions among Jews, Christians, and Muslims all think of the city as belonging particularly and especially to their own religious tradition. "Jerusalem belongs to the Jews, because it is the city of David!" "Jerusalem belongs to the Christians, because Jesus was crucified there!" "Jerusalem belongs to the Muslims, because it was from there that Muhammed ascended into heaven!" Jerusalem was apparently sacred to a fourth group of people, the Jebusites, as well. Genesis 14 tells the story of Melchizedek, the priest-king of (Jeru)Salem, who blesses Abraham. When David captured the city, it was already considered sacred by its inhabitants. Maybe the forgotten Jebusites provide a key to solving the problem of Jerusalem. Sites considered sacred should be places of worship, not bloodshed. David probably conquered Jerusalem for strategic political and military reasons rather than religious reasons. Nevertheless, his conquest of the sacred city of the Jebusites set a bad precedent that has continued to this day. Religious zealots proclaim their faith's right to own Jerusalem, or at least certain parts of it. But if the land is sacred, doesn't that imply that God owns it? And if God owns it, wouldn't God allow whoever wants to to come to the holy city and worship freely? If we believe with the psalmist that God has indeed chosen Jerusalem as a place that is especially sacred, and if we honor our religious predecessors in the faith who considered Jerusalem special, we should promote the idea of an open city (at least those parts of the city that are considered sacred and are in dispute), not owned by anyone--or rather, owned by everyone. The person who worships in Jerusalem today and tries to prevent another from worshiping there tomorrow has not truly worshiped. Those of us who live in other parts of the world should pray for the peace of Jerusalem, not wanting one faction or another ultimately to control it, but asking God that it might be a place of worship for all nations.
I am who I am - GodExistence is powerful, but it is also tenuous. Because human bodies are frail and our lives are relatively short, we fear death. Nevertheless, we sometimes feel so overwhelmed with life that we think we cannot go on. Hamlet considered the pros and cons of existence and nonexistence in his famous soliloquy: "To be or not to be, that is the question. . . ." Some suicide bombers are absolutely convinced of a reward after death, so their act of self/other-destruction cannot be considered an embracing of nonexistence. Other suicide bombers are supremely frustrated by the situation in which they find themselves, so they conclude that it is better to end it all, while taking a few others with them. These people indeed seek nonexistence, but only as a remedy for a miserable life. Descartes sought proof of the reality of human existence, and he found it in self-reflection. Assuming that thought indeed proves one's existence, what then? OK, I exist--now what? That question of meaning is just as important as the question of existence. Where can I find meaning in life? Popeye is content with himself as an individual. He accepts his limitations. But does he give up too easily? Is the meaning of life totally enveloped in our own persons? The message of God in the reading from Revelation suggests that meaning comes primarily from the outside, from God who as the ground of being provides meaning to life. God is described as "him who is and who was and who will be." Perhaps it is significant that the description begins with the present. Regardless of the situation we find ourselves in, no matter how hopeless it looks, God exists now. God stands beside us, ready to enlighten, encourage, comfort, or rebuke, depending on the situation. "God was": God has a track record. You can look to the past and see God at work in your own life, as well as in the lives of others. "God will be": God has a future, or maybe it would be better to say, "God is the future." Without God, our future would be empty. With God, we have hope, and life has meaning. The threat of nonbeing is scary, but so is the threat of non-meaning, or nihilism. Because God exists in the eternal present, past, and future, the threat of nonbeing is less intimidating, and life can be valued.
I think, therefore I am - Descartes
I am what I am, and that's all that I am - Popeye
For another discussion of this passage, click here.
Suppose Jesus had tried to set up an earthly kingdom. Suppose further that he had successfully driven the Romans from Israel and had passed the authority over his kingdom to his successors. Those who claimed to be his followers would be perfectly justified in attempting to set up temporal kingdoms wherever they found themselves around the world. As it turns out, however, Jesus explicitly denied his intention to create an earthly kingdom. "My kingdom is not from this world," Jesus told Pilate. Yet Jesus' followers throughout the centuries have often tried to set up kingdoms based to some extent on his teachings (usually a fairly small extent). Even today we have people who would vote to establish a theocracy in their city, state, or nation if they were given a chance. These proposed kingdoms (even if they are democracies) fly in the face of Jesus' explicit wishes, and they disrespect the beliefs of those of other faiths. Jesus says that his kingdom is characterized by truth. "What is truth?" Pilate asks. That's a question that both Christians and non-Christians have frequently asked through the ages. It's not an easy question to answer, but it is easy to see that some answers are wrong. For example, truth is not the teachings of one particular sect of Christianity. In fact, truth is not the teachings of Christianity as a whole. Yes, there is much truth in Christianity, but human weakness ensures that we fall short of the mark of absolute truth. Nor is truth absolute certainty. It's been said that a person who is always certain is certainly wrong. Truth encourages exploration and questioning, not dogmatic assertions and precepts chiseled in stone. Finally, truth is not an unchanging list of rules and principles. To be sure, many expressions of truth endure throughout the ages: "You shall not kill," for example. Others, though, change as society itself changes. What does "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy" mean today? The role of women in society and the church has changed a great deal of the years, particularly in the last hundred years or so. Truth is something that is ultimately beyond our grasp, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try to reach it. We should be cognizant of our intellectual and cultural shortcomings, so that in our attempts to expound the truth, we don't ever mistake our pronouncements with truth itself. The question Pilate asked continues to be valid. It is a question that Christians must continue to ask as well.