Four years ago today two passenger planes crashed into the World Trade Center, another hit the Pentagon, and a fourth crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Americans and much of the rest of the world were in shock, devastated by the attack on our country. There were others around the world, however, and not just members of Al Qaeda, who saw God's judgment behind the events of that day. It wasn't just Muslims and enemies of America who interpreted 9/11 in that way. Even some Christians, like Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, saw the hand of God behind these attacks. How does one interpret events of great import in light of the will of God? How do such events shape our understanding of God? The exodus experience was formative for the ancient nation of Israel. The story of God's annihilation of the Egyptians in the waters of the "Reed Sea" was central to their understanding of Yahweh as a powerful God who was willing to destroy other, evil nations in order to establish Israel as a nation. Modern Jews and Christians usually read the account of the deliverance of the people through the sea, the exodus story par excellence, in the same way as the ancient Israelites. Reading the story in this way, we see our God as a God who delivers the chosen people from bondage, even if hordes of the wicked have to be destroyed in the process. It is not too great a leap from this understanding of the story to a modern application that allows the forces of good (i.e., the U.S. and its allies) to destroy great numbers of the forces of evil (i.e., our political enemies) without regret or compunction. The unfortunate consequences of such an application of the story are evident whenever we look at the destruction and human misery strewn about the trail of time over the last two thousand years of human history. Is there another way to read this story that preserves the elemental theme of deliverance from bondage and oppression yet stops short of having God endorse wanton annihilation of our enemies? I think there is. The key lies in considering the story as a divine-human drama in which God is the protagonist. God is the protector of Israel, the freed slaves, and the destroyer of Egypt, the aggrieved former slave-holders. The events which are described in the drama are supernatural: the fiery cloud that led them through the wilderness and interposed itself between Israel and the armies of Egypt, the wind that blew the waters back and allowed Israel to pass through on dry ground, and the mighty flood of waters that swallowed up the Egyptians and completely engulfed them. That they are supernatural rather than human is key to finding an appropriate modern application. We can argue from the story that God is concerned with delivering people from oppression yet also note that it is not Israel that rises up to destroy Egypt, but God. At the instigation of Moses, the Israelites fled Egypt, but they did not raise a hand against the Egyptians. Of course, this story cannot be read in isolation from the rest of the biblical story, but it is important for progressive Christians, who believe that violence is an evil to be avoided if at all possible, to see alternatives to the traditional, militant ways of reading this great story of deliverance.
Many scholars believe that Exodus 15, along with Judges 5, is one of the oldest passages preserved in the Bible. The Song of the Sea was probably passed down in poetic form in much the same way that the ancient Greek stories of the Trojan War and the Old English stories of Beowulf were, memorized in their entireties by epic poets and recited to generations of eager listeners. Because the Hebrew poetic structure, based on parallelism and perhaps accented syllables, is foreign to modern English readers, I have translated the first six verses of the Song of the Sea into a poetic form that has been part of the English language for more than a thousand years. Rather than relying on either end rhyme or internal rhyme, the poetic structure of the epic poem Beowulf is based on short half-lines with two stressed words in each half-line, and the two half-lines are tied together with alliteration between one of the stressed words in the first half-line and one of the stressed words in the second half-line. (Some of the lines below have fewer than four beats, but alliteration is still preserved.) The value of such a rendering is that it reminds us that we are reading an epic poem that lies at the heart of the self-understanding of ancient Israel, the spiritual forerunner of Jews, Christians, and (to some extent) Muslims today.
I will sing to the Lord, sovereign is he; The horse and its rider has he hurled to the sea. The Lord is my strength and song; for my soul has he become a savior. He is my God, him will I glorify; The God of my elders, him will I exalt. The Lord is a warrior; the Lord is his name. Pharaoh's chariots and troops he has tossed into the sea; the best of his battle-lords are buried in the Reed Sea. The deep swirls over the dead; like a stone they went down to the depths. Your right hand, O Lord, is regal in power; your right hand, O Lord, wrecks the enemy.
I have heard it said that Christians comprise the only army in the world that shoots its own wounded. Having observed the infighting between adherents of other faiths I don't think that the Christian situation is unique, but it is certainly true that Christians spend an inordinate amount of time beating up on each other. At times, of course, it is necessary to distinguish one's position on an issue from that of someone else standing under the banner of Christianity. For example, when Pat Robertson called for the assassination of Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, many Christians vociferously denounced him. There are other times, however--in fact, most of the time--when infighting among Christians serves not to distinguish one group of Christians from another but only to degrade Christianity in the eyes of others. In today's reading from Romans, Paul talks about the interaction between "strong" and "weak" Christians. Interestingly, Paul doesn't take sides in their controversies over food and holy days, though I strongly suspect that he had an opinion on both subjects. Instead, he counsels both sides to accept the other side in love. Paul understood that human opinions on such matters are just that: opinions. They can never be equated with God's command, so Christians need to learn to accept one another and work together for the common good, the proclamation and incarnation of the gospel message. Another interesting point in this passage is that it demonstrates that Christians have had differences of opinion on matters of faith and practice since the very beginning of the church. Rather than snipe at each other as we are often wont to do, Christians today need to find ways to work together toward common goals. The ecumenical movement, as manifested in the World Council of Churches, is an example of Christians working together in a positive way worldwide. Dialogs between the Roman Catholic church and various Protestant denominations are also positive. One of the most encouraging developments in recent decades is the emergence of interdenominational, and often interfaith, community groups that work together to address the needs of the community, such as poverty, medical care, tutoring for children, and day care. As Paul notes, we are all accountable to God for our action or inaction. When we stand before God, would we rather be able to point to ministry carried out in cooperation with other believers, or would we rather have to explain why we wasted so much time arguing with our neighbors?
Imagine that you had accumulated a debt of $5 billion to a single creditor, and suddenly he was calling in the debt. Unless you're Bill Gates or one of the Waltons (the Wal-Mart heirs, not John-Boy's family), chances are that you can't write a check for that amount, at least one that won't bounce. Furthermore, unless you could come up with an idea for a book that was five times more popular than the Harry Potter series, you wouldn't have much chance of raising the money over the course of your lifetime. That is the situation in which the slave in Jesus' parable finds himself. He owes a $5 billion debt to his master, with no hope of repaying, when his master calls in the debt. Realizing that he has no chance of ever paying his master back, he throws himself on his master's mercy and begs for release from the debt. The master listens to him and forgives the debt, and the slave walks away with a new lease on life. Later he finds a fellow slave who owes him about $17,000. It's no chump change, but neither is it in the same league as a $5 billion debt. When the second slave falls on his knees and begs for forgiveness, however, the first refuses to release him from his debt, and he has him thrown in debtor's prison until he should repay his debt. When we read this story, our first reaction is probably to ask, how could someone who has been forgiven so much be unwilling to forgive someone who owes him so little? The sad truth is that it happens all the time. When we consider our own unworthiness in the sight of God and the forgiveness we have received, how is it that we still sometimes manage to be unforgiving to other people? There are certainly affronts that are difficult to forgive, but all too often we get hung up on petty grievances. "Lucy spread a nasty rumor about me!" "Sam sucked up to the boss and stole my promotion!" "That stranger cut me off in traffic!" The key to forgiving others is an increasing appreciation of God's forgiveness of our own sins. We can achieve this by coming to a fuller awareness of the holiness of God, perhaps through contemplation or meditation. 1 John 3:1 expresses well the sentiment that I'm talking about: "See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God!" As the wonder of our adoption into God's family grows, our ability to forgive others will increase accordingly.