What is there about fire that makes people stop what they're doing to look at it? Is it the tremendous heat it generates? Is it the light it gives off? Are we fascinated by the destructive force of fire? Whatever the reason, there is no doubt that for hundreds of thousands of years our ancestors have been fascinated by fire. At first people only saw fire when lightning struck the forest or when a volcano erupted, spewing forth streams of molten lava that ignited the foliage. Then at some point almost half a million years ago, people learned how to preserve and control the fire. Long after that humans learned how to generate fire on their own. Early humans may have seen the benefits of fire, not just its destructiveness, when they ventured to eat wildlife that had been trapped in a burning forest and cooked. Cooked meat lasted much longer than raw meat, and it killed the parasites that infested many animals. Cooking removed or reduced toxicity in plants and seeds. The warmth from fires also allowed people to live in cooler, temperate climates, and eventually to survive even the harsh Eurasian winters of the Ice Ages. It is no exaggeration to say that the birth of civilization would not have been possible without fire. Despite the many benefits that humans came to recognize in fire, they never lost their wonder for its power, and they never forgot its destructive nature. People of many different cultures used fire in their sacrifices to the gods. As a vital part of sacrificial rituals, fire cooked the food for the gods, but it was also viewed as something that could transform an offering into something entirely new as it consumed the flesh and hair of the sacrificial animal. In a way, fire was a mystical substance, real yet insubstantial, able to appear and disappear, capable of reducing a recently living body to a pile of ash. In today's reading from Exodus, Moses goes up on Mt. Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments. The writer describes the view from the perspective of the Israelites at the foot of the mountain: "Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel." This is one of many passages in the Bible where God is described as a fire. The people were afraid to approach the mountain because of God's appearance as a fiery cloud, so it is evident that they viewed the fire of God as a primarily destructive force, something to be revered yet avoided. If Moses was brave enough to enter the fire to speak with the deity, that was good, but the ordinary member of the community had no desire to approach God. Who knew what would happen to Moses anyway? Maybe, like Icarus in Greek mythology, he would get too close to the flame and be consumed. Maybe he would return safely and deliver the words of God. Either way, the average Israelite wanted to stay at a safe distance from God. The idea of God as a destructive force continues to ring true for many people today. Some see God's destructive nature at work in tsunamis and earthquakes and hurricanes and mudslides. Some people think that God's destructive power is only unleashed on the ungodly (i.e., on their enemies), but those who are more perceptive realize that the ungodly includes "us" as well as "them," so if God is a destructive force, it is a force that can be unleashed any time on any group of people, with justice. I believe that fire continues to be a valid symbol to represent God, with both positive and negative connotations. The fire of God can be painful, but it is not arbitrary. God judges injustice, but God doesn't punish the innocent along with the guilty. Furthermore, we are all guilty, to a greater or lesser extent, of rebellion against God, so we all stand worthy of the judgment of fire. The story of Moses on the mountain reminds us, though, that fire doesn't always burn. God summoned Moses into the fire, and Moses emerged unscathed, having had an experience with God unlike any he had ever experienced. God's fire in a little bush in the desert had changed Moses' life. Now God's fire on the mountain would change the life of Moses' people. They would learn that God's fire was not only destructive, it was also beneficial. Just as literal fire was an essential component of civilization, so the divine fire was an essential part of life in relationship with God. Moses had the courage to enter the fire in order to commune with God. Do we too have the courage to enter the fire God is calling us to enter?
The kings of Assyria called themselves the rulers of the black-headed people. The pharaohs in Egypt were called lords of the two Egypts (upper and lower). The king of Persia was referred to as the Great King. At one time or another the kings of Assyria, Egypt, and Persia ruled huge swaths of the ancient Near East. In this context, it is somewhat amusing to read the psalmist's adulation of the king of Judah, a small nation that existed in the shadows of surrounding empires. The king of Judah is the Lord's anointed, God's own king, even God's son. "Ask of me," God says, "and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession." Other rulers are warned to pay homage to the king of Judah, lest God pour out divine wrath upon them. The second psalm was probably used in coronation ceremonies, or perhaps at an annual New Year's festival, where the king's special relationship with Yahweh and his claim to the throne of Zion were proclaimed. The kings of Israel and Judah saw themselves as kings whom God had put on their thrones, and if they didn't have any realistic designs on world domination, at least the rhetoric of their subjects suggested that they were entitled to exercise dominion over other nations. What is it that drives people to want to exercise authority over others? From the early rulers of Sumerian city-states to the Roman emperors to Adolf Hitler to the imperialist adventures of the U.S.S.R. and the U.S. since World War II, many people just seem driven to control the lives and destinies of others. Of course, imperialist desires in modern times are frowned upon by other nations, so modern empires tell the rest of the world that they are bringing "freedom" or "democracy" or "relief" to the countries they want to "liberate." But whether one nation wants another nation's territory or wants to put that nation under its sphere of economic or military control, the desire to exert authority over others is at the root of many (not all) interventions of one nation in the affairs of another. Another way to read this psalm is to see "God's anointed" as Jesus in his role as messiah. This is a safer way to read the psalm, and it is probably the most popular way for Christians to read it today. Unfortunately, seeing Jesus as God's anointed doesn't necessarily change the application for those who would rule others. If Jesus is God's anointed, a ruler might say, our nation (or Christians, or Western Civilization in general) are Christ's army, so we have the right to rule over others in the name of Christ. The Crusades were waged under the theory that a "Christian army" was serving God's anointed messiah in attempting to expel the infidels from the Holy Land. Modern leaders of largely Christian nations might not express their justifications so bluntly, but their use of religious or theological language to describe the enemy--evildoers, forces of darkness, great Satan--or to describe their task--crusade, jihad, holy war--expresses the subtext of their designs pretty clearly. Even though the second psalm could easily be read as an imperialist manifesto or could be applied directly to Jesus as messiah but indirectly to some modern nation or group of nations, there is another way to read the psalm that is more consistent with God's message of good news to all people. Acknowledging that the psalm originally referred to the Davidic king, and adopting the Christian view of Jesus as the ultimate fulfillment of messianic hope, we can see Jesus as the ideal anointed one of God in this psalm, yet reject any attempt to connect any modern nation with any of the language of domination in the rest of the psalm. Once we acknowledge the universal sinfulness of humanity, we can easily see the folly of attempting to justify the imperialistic acts of modern nations on the basis of that nation's supposed identity as the people of God. How, then, do we apply this psalm in the modern world? First, we must recognize that "Zion, my holy hill" can only be read today as a metaphor for the location of God's throne, not as the modern city of Jerusalem. Second, we can read a clause like "I will make the nations your heritage" as a call on Christians to preach and live out the good news before other nations, not as a justification to conquer them, change their way of life, or destroy their culture. Third, we can read "serve the Lord with fear" as a call on all nations to treat their own people, as well as their neighbors, with justice and mercy. God's anointed, the messiah, Jesus, will be pleased.
David Koresh said he had it. So did Jim Jones. Oral Roberts has claimed it, as has Pat Robertson. Joseph Smith, Joan of Arc, Juan Diego, and many, many others through the ages have also said that they received a special, direct revelation from God, who gave them a specific message for others. Many other Christians, even if they wouldn't go so far as to claim a direct, divine revelation would say that they have received a word from God in a way that was as real as any word ever spoken in conversation with another person. Some of these revelations, upon evaluation by contemporaries or by later generations, appear to have been either imagined or misunderstood, some flatly contradict other claims of revealed truth (including the Bible itself), and others have led to such depraved human actions that one must question the validity of the revelator's claim. Despite all this, most Christians believe that God does reveal God's will and God's way to people. The question, then, is this: how can we distinguish a true revelation of God from a false impression? Furthermore, even when we recognize a revelation as truly of divine origin, what do we do about it? In today's reading from 2 Peter, Peter recalls his experience on the Mount of Transfiguration, when God spoke these words concerning Jesus: "This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased." The testimony of one of Jesus' original disciples was good enough for almost everyone in the early church, but what about other claims to proclaim a word from God? How should one deal with the prophetic voice of a modern preacher? How should one interpret the prophetic voice that was believed to underlie scripture? The answer, according this passage, is first to recognize that the source of all true revelation is the Holy Spirit of God. Second, we must read scripture, hear the proclamation of the gospel, and interpret the world around us in the setting of the community. "No prophecy of scripture is a matter of one's own interpretation," the author says, but individuals certainly do read scripture from their own perspective, in the context of their own worldview, and with their own understanding. How could they do otherwise? We need to recognize that our own perspective, worldview, and understanding is far from infallible, so it is important for us to lay out our interpretations before our brothers and sisters in the faith to see what wisdom they have. Even doing this is not enough, however, since it is almost certain that those believers with whom we come in contact most frequently probably share at least our worldview. In trying to understand God's word and way, it is helpful to have some interaction with people whose outlook on life is far different from our own. If we have the opportunity to travel to other countries, it is likely that we will encounter people whose outlook on life is very different from our own, particularly if we travel outside the industrialized West (if that's where we begin). My own travels in Latin America, South Africa, and Europe have opened my eyes to the realization that people in other parts of the world often view both the world and God quite differently that I do. I was talking recently to an American friend who has lived for the past three years in Thailand, and she assures me that the Thais view the world quite differently than Americans. Even if we don't travel to exotic lands beyond our borders, we can still expand our horizons by interacting with people from other countries who live near us, or even by getting to know people from different ethnic groups, social classes, or religious backgrounds. A third way to broaden our minds is to read books, magazines, and news articles by people from different backgrounds. Your local bookstore undoubtedly has many books that will fit the bill, and the Internet offers a wealth of different perspectives on news, culture, art, religion, and more. There is no way that any individual can escape his or her own perspective, worldview, or understanding, but by taking advantage of opportunities to travel, to interact with people from different backgrounds, and to read widely, we can gain a broader perspective from which to proclaim with humility our understanding of God's revelation.
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany and the Sunday before Lent. As we prepare to move into a time of reflection and commitment, it is worthwhile to ask ourselves who this Jesus is whom we follow. The story is familiar. Jesus takes his disciples Peter, James, and John up a high mountain to seek God. While they are there, Jesus' appearance is changed, and he begins to glow with a divine glory. Moses and Elijah appear and talk with him. Peter, not knowing quite what to say, but certain that he must say something, offers to build tents for Jesus and his two visitors. A bright cloud overshadows them, and the voice of God rumbles from the cloud. Falling to the ground in fear, the disciples don't dare raise their eyes until Jesus stoops down, touches them, and raises them up. As they descend the mountain, Jesus instructs them not to say anything about the incident to anyone else. The parallels with Moses' journey up the mountain to receive the Ten Commandments are obvious: (1) the six days in verse 1 probably reflect the six days Moses spent on the mountain before he ascended to the peak to meet with God; (2) the shining face of Jesus recalls Moses' shining face after his encounter with the divine; (3) Moses' presence on the mountain naturally makes one think of the events on Mt. Sinai; (4) Peter's offer to build tents reminds one of the tent of meeting in which Moses went to meet God after his descent from the mountain; (5) the bright cloud of God's glory is reminiscent of Mt. Sinai, as is (6) the voice from the cloud; (7) finally, the journey down the mountain to face the chaos of the world is similar to Moses' descent from Sinai. Of course, there are other details in the account that are not mirrored in the story of Moses on Mt. Sinai. The presence of Elijah on the mountain recalls Elijah's flight to Mt. Horeb (often identified with Mt. Sinai) and his encounter with God there. Moses and Elijah together represent the Law and Prophets, the authoritative tradition of sacred scripture. Unlike on Sinai, the divine voice is directed to the observers in this drama, the disciples. The words mirror those spoken at Jesus' baptism, with one telling addition: "Listen to him!" This combination of additions to the traditional story suggest that we are to see Jesus not just as a second Moses but as one greater than Moses (cf. the similar way in which he is presented in the Sermon on the Mount earlier in Matthew). His superiority to Moses is shown in several ways. First, Jesus himself appears to be the source of light, for Jesus' transfiguration happens before the cloud appears. Second, since there is no indication in the story that either Moses or Elijah glow--though both were associated with the fire of God in the Hebrew Bible--it is clear that the two of them represent the Law and the Prophets which point to Jesus as the messiah. Finally, the divine voice from the cloud of fire repeats its baptismal testimony, but the addition--"listen to him!"--indicates that Jesus himself has greater authority than either of his visitors. Many applications can be drawn from the Transfiguration story, but the one I want to stress here is the authority of Jesus over Moses and Elijah. Both Moses and Elijah were great spiritual leaders in the Old Testament, and the Law and the Prophets, which they represent, contain words of power and wisdom. Nevertheless, for Christians, Jesus himself is the ultimate authority. If the Old Testament says "an eye for an eye," but Jesus says "be merciful, as God is merciful," we must follow Jesus. If the Old Testament excludes certain groups of people from worship on the basis of their ethnic background, Jesus' example of full inclusion trumps the Old Testament. If the Old Testament portrays a God who orders his people to commit genocide in the context of a holy war, Jesus' teaching to love our enemies takes precedence. We have the Law and the Prophets and the Wisdom of the Old Testament. We need to read it, study it, and apply its principles in our lives. But above all we need to get to know Jesus, and we need to read the Old Testament--and the modern world--in light of Jesus' own teachings and example. We would do well to obey the divine voice that the disciples heard: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!"