Job 23:1-9, 16-17 (first published 12 October 2003)
The Bible contains several stories about people who were terrified to
find themselves in the presence of the almighty God. The Israelites at
the foot of Mt. Sinai tremble in the presence of God. Isaiah in the
temple cries out "Woe is me, for I have seen the Lord of Hosts!" Rudolf
Otto, in The Idea of the Holy, speaks of the mysterium
tremendum, the mysterious presence of God that makes one tremble in
fear. Job, however, wishes he could confront God and plead his case. He
would point out that his righteous behavior does not merit such treatment
from God. He would insist that he is being treated unfairly. For Job,
the only thing that is more terrifying than the presence of God is the
absence of God. Verses 9 and 10 read like the exact opposite of Psalm 139:7-12, where the psalmist find God wherever
he looks. Life is like that sometimes. When things are dark, sometimes
we can't sense God's presence with us. We seek God, but God is nowhere to
be found. We look for reasons to why our lives are crumbling, but God
gives us no answer. We scream into the dark night, but God doesn't seem
to hear. Why does God hide from us in our hour of need? Why doesn't he
answer our prayers? Old Testament theologian Samuel Terrien says that
God's apparent absence is actually God's elusive presence. God is present
even in his absence. To quote the Buddhist/Taoist writer known as Wei Wu
Wei, "Presence and absence are dual forms of appearance." God is not at
our beck and call. We sometimes feel the presence of God, but often we
only feel God's absence. In those times, how do we know that God is still
out there? We know because we know whose absence we are seeking. God is
such a powerful presence, that even when God is nowhere to be found, we
sense God lurking in the shadows. Like Job, we continue to cry out to
God, because God's absence is paradoxically an elusive presence. In the
depths of our despair, when all hope seems lost, we continue to cry out to
God. Sometimes we will feel like God is with us, and sometimes we won't,
but in the mysteries of God's sovereignty, even God's absence can draw us
toward God.
Psalm 22:1-15 (first published 12 October 2003)
In Matthew and Mark, the only words that Jesus speaks from the cross
are the opening words of this psalm, "My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?" The words were certainly appropriate for Jesus, and they
are appropriate for many people today as well. Unlike Job, who is
surrounded by people who is sure that his sufferings are the result of
sin, the psalmist is surrounded by enemies who mock him for his
righteousness. Both the words of the self-righteous and the words of the
unrighteous hurt those who suffer. What is it about human nature that so
often causes us to heap abuse on the heads of those who are going through
difficult times? The German word Schadenfreude describes a
situation in which one person takes pleasure in the suffering of another.
All too often believers fall victim to that sin. Maybe we think the
person deserves to be suffering, so he's getting his just deserts. Maybe
we think that the person has had such a carefree like that it's high time
she suffered a little bit. Maybe we just don't like the person, so we're
secretly glad to see him experience a little pain. Schadenfreude
happens on an individual scale, but it also takes place on an
international scale. When a heat wave struck France and killed many
people last summer, how many Americans, angry at their opposition to the
war on Iraq, thought that they were getting what they deserved? How many
Americans' first reaction to seeing the gruesome photos of Uday and Qusay
Hussein, who were killed in a military raid in July, was satisfaction?
We all saw the joyous reaction of some Palestinians upon hearing the news
about the attacks on the World Trade Center two years ago and were aghast
that people could rejoice in the misery of others. If we're honest,
aren't we sometimes guilty of the same thing? I remember hearing the news
many years ago that Ayatollah Khomeini had died. I felt a sense of grim
satisfaction at his passing, yet at the same time I was appalled at
feeling that way. Why do we all too often take pleasure in the
difficulties that others experience? Perhaps it's because we are holding
grudges rather than practicing forgiveness. Maybe it's because we harbor
jealousy or prejudice toward others. We certainly wouldn't be happy about
the sufferings of people that we loved the way that God loves us. Loving
our enemies is not about gushy feelings or meaningless gestures. It is
about trying to walk in their shoes, to understand their point of view.
If we could understand just a little bit about our enemies and see things
from their perspective, it would be hard to rejoice over their misfortune.
The ability to see things through the eyes of others is the first step
toward learning to love them, as Jesus commanded us.
Hebrew 4:12-16 (first published 12 October 2003)
In the movie The Truman Show, Truman--played by Jim Carrey--grows up in an artificial world, surrounded by hidden cameras that record his every move. Billions of viewers all over the world see him take his first steps, go to school for the first time, and get his first kiss. The whole world watches everything he does, twenty-four hours a day. Because he doesn't know that he is being watched, he is able to live what he thinks of as a normal life. However, once he begins to suspect that something isn't quite right with his world, he gets the feeling that people are watching him, and he is no longer able to live a normal (fictional) life. The author of Hebrews says that the word of God has an even greater level of perception than the people who watched the Truman show. The word of God is able even to discern thoughts and intentions. Some people picture God sitting on the heavenly throne waiting to pounce on them if they get out of line. Others resent God's continual observation, as though God were a voyeur, and they wish God would turn his attention elsewhere for just a little while. Unlike Job and the psalmist, who long for God's presence, these people feel God's constant vigilance oppressive. If we can get beyond the idea of God as a heavenly cop who can't wait to bust a perp, we might begin to think that the idea of God's penetrating, insightful word (or, better, reason) is actually something positive. How often do our spouses misunderstand our motives, or do our children take something we say the wrong way, or do our co-workers misinterpret our intentions? With God, misunderstandings are not an issue. God knows if our heart is good and our intentions are pure, even when we manage to mess up our lives royally. We don't know the right words to say to someone who is grieving, but God knows our heart. We stand falsely accused of a workplace intrigue, but God knows that we did nothing untoward. We say something rude and intemperate to our spouse, who rejects our apologies, but God understands that we didn't mean it and that we really are sorry. Because God knows us so well, God is always on our side. Of course, God's understanding of the depths of our beings means that he also sees our weaknesses, prejudices, jealousy, pettiness, and selfishness. The good news is that, because we know that God sees these negative aspects of our lives, we have some incentive to clean up our acts. God is a God of mercy and love. God isn't waiting behind a tree to clobber us when we walk by. God loves us and constantly seeks to bring us back into the right way. The bad news is that we can't hide anything from God. The good news is, we don't have to.
Today's reading from Mark is usually known as the story of the Rich Young Ruler, and a variant of it appears as well in both Matthew and Luke. It's interesting that the common name for this pericope is based on a conflation of the three stories, because there is no rich young ruler in any of the stories. In Matthew he is a rich young man. In Luke he is a rich ruler. And in Mark, the earliest version of the story we have in the gospels, he is simply a rich man. The message of the story in the three gospels also varies in important ways. In Luke, the story is another in a series of examples in which the evangelist is critical of the ruling elements of society and their exploitation of the poor. Luke's is the only gospel in which Jesus' statement concerning the difficulty of the rich entering God's kingdom is directed at the man himself rather than the disciples; in Matthew and Mark, the man leaves before Jesus utters these words. In Matthew, the question that the man asks Jesus shifts the word "good" from referring to Jesus ("Good teacher") to referring to the man's actions ("good deed"). Matthew is concerned to project a higher Christology, in which Jesus is more closely associated with God, so in place of Mark's "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone" (so also in Luke), Matthew reads "Why do you ask me about what is good? One there is who is good," deflecting the suggestion that perhaps Jesus himself is not perfectly good. The point of this digression is that differences in the way the evangelists tell their stories is important, sometimes crucial, in understanding the meaning of a passage. In this light, one of the most interesting aspects of Mark's version of the story is the list of commandments that Jesus gives the man. Slipped in among a selection of the Ten Commandments is this extra mandate, omitted in Matthew and Luke: "Do not defraud." There is no verse in the Old Testament, including the deuterocanonical books, that includes this command explicitly, but the word does appear occasionally in both the Septuagint (Greek version of the Old Testament) and the rest of the New Testament. From its use in context, it means to rob or, more specifically, to withhold from someone what is due to them by right. Examples of withholding what belongs to someone else include sexual relations in the context of marriage, the wages of laborers, and even the truth. Of special interest, because of the association of Jesus' statement with a story about a rich man, are two statements from the book of Sirach (Ecclesiasticus), in consecutive verses: "The bread of the needy is the life of the poor; whoever deprives them of it commits murder" (Sir 34:25); "To take away a neighbor's living is to commit murder" (Sir 34:26). These verses, among many others in the Bible, clearly indicate the view of the authors that denying social justice is equivalent to murder. In the context of contemporary American history, the most obvious application of this principle has to do with health care. Access to affordable, quality health care is a basic human right, despite the protests of some who have it but would deny it to others. It is something that rightly belongs to every person not only in the U.S. but on the planet. Denying health care to people just because they are poor, uninsured, or underinsured violates Jesus' command not to defraud them, not to take what is rightfully theirs. According to Jesus ben Sira, the author of Sirach, it is murder. Another relevant application in the contemporary American scene has to do with work and wages. As the unemployment rate soars to post-Depression highs, Congress and the president have done extended access to unemployment wages somewhat, but this only helps for awhile, and it only helps those who had a job in the first place. More and more people are living with relatives, with strangers, in their cars, or on the streets. For the richest country in the world to have so many destitute people within their borders is a travesty. If access to health care is a basic human right, then so is access to the most basic human needs: food, clothing, and shelter. Many government and nongovernmental agencies are doing good work in reaching the poorest among us, but too little funding is available, and too many people continue to fall through the cracks. Health care and meeting the most basic human needs are two examples of social justice, and there are many others. To get back to the gospel of Mark, it is interesting that Matthew and Luke, when they modified Mark's story to fit their own theological ends and the needs of their own audiences, both omitted the command "Do not defraud." In today's world, wracked by the worst abuses of capitalism and greed, it is time to restore Jesus' admonition to the rich young man to the level of awareness it deserves. Not to do so would be murder.