Saturday Night Theologian
29 November 2009

Jeremiah 33:14-16 (first published 30 November 2003)

It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflexion, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come [Samuel Becket, Waiting for Godot].
Becket's play Waiting for Godot is a masterpiece of existentialist angst whose characters struggle against nihilism. The characters await the arrival of their leader, all the while debating whether their lives have any meaning at all. They finally conclude that whatever meaning their lives may have is intricately related to the coming of Godot. Many people today struggle with the meaning of existence. Some conclude that pleasure, wealth, or popularity will provide them with a sense of personal worth. Others seek meaning in accomplishment, service, or self-sacrifice. Still others come to believe that life has no ultimate meaning. Today's reading from Jeremiah, which is missing in the Greek version of Jeremiah (33:14-26 is lacking in the LXX), is based on an earlier passage, 23:5-6. Whereas the latter passage dates to the time of Jeremiah, the former probably comes from the postexilic period. Subtle changes are evident when comparing the later version with its earlier antecedent. One obvious change is that whereas the earlier version emphasizes the role of a future king, who will rule wisely and be called "Yahweh our righteousness" (i.e., a Zedekiah who lives up to his name), the later version downplays the role of the king, assigning the name "Yahweh our righteousness" to the city of Jerusalem. Another change is the shift in hope from a united Israel and Judah to a promise targeted specifically at the remnant of Judah, with its capital in Jerusalem. The expectations of believers change as history rolls forward. The postexilic Jews had a different hope than Jews living before the exile had. Christians today have different expectations than Christians living at the end of the first century had. That's as it should be. If believers don't adapt to the changing situation in the world, their faith becomes ossified and ceases to be relevant. On the other hand, if believers abandon their hope in the God who inhabits the future, their faith becomes passé and ceases to exist. As we enter the season of Advent, today's Christians must express our hope in terms that reach back to the first-century foundations of our faith--and even further back to our Jewish roots--but we must also express our hope in the language and ideas of today's postmodern world, a world fully engaged with the scientific discoveries of the past few centuries but aware of the ambiguities that are so prevalent in contemporary discussions of philosophy, politics, and religion. Such a world desperately needs hope that God will execute righteousness and justice in its midst, and the Advent season gives us the opportunity to proclaim it.

Psalm 25:1-10 (first published 30 November 2003)

The movie Quills is a fictional account of the Marquis de Sade's imprisonment in the Charenton Asylum for the Insane in Paris. He has been incarcerated for his shocking sexual deviancy and his graphic, explicitly sexual writings. The abbe in charge of the asylum pities him and tries (without success) to reform him. A psychologist famous for his harsh "treatments" of patients, Dr. Royer-Collard, is assigned by the state to deal with de Sade by whatever means necessary. In particular, the doctor is determined to stop the Marquis' literary output (de Sade has been smuggling manuscripts out of the hospital to his publisher). Despite de Sade's blatantly perverse behavior, that of the doctor in particular and French society in general--the story is set against the backdrop of the Reign of Terror--is even worse. Dr. Royer-Collard self-righteously condemns the Marquis, the chambermaid who smuggles out de Sade's writings, and even the abbe, while at the same time engaging in legal sexual battery against his child (literally) bride, who is apparently some forty years his junior. The doctor's inability to see his own sins while mercilessly condemning the sins of those around him is a central theme of the movie. The psalmist asks God to be merciful to him, to overlook the sins of his youth and his transgressions, in accordance with God's steadfast love. He also asks God for deliverance from his enemies. So far so good. The psalms speak in generic language, and that is one of the reasons for their power through the ages. One of the common themes of the psalms is victory over one's enemies. To the extent that believers today are treated unjustly or are persecuted, prayers for deliverance are appropriate. However, we must interpret psalms such as this in the light of Jesus' instruction to love our enemies. As we enter the Advent season, U.S. troops are deployed overseas among people whom we might consider enemies, especially in Iraq and Afghanistan, but also in Cuba (Guantánamo Bay) and in the Korean DMZ. Before we pray for God to forgive our sins, we should first pray that God will reveal to us both the fullness and the enormity of our own sins. How many of our actions, which may have seemed justified at the time, were in fact affronts to God and his children? How many people have we killed? How many civilians? How many children? How have our sins impacted the lives of those who are still alive? After we pray for God to forgive our sins, we should also pray for God to forgive the sins of our enemies. The greatest threat to the church is not Islam, nor is it atheism, nor is it libertinism. The greatest threat to the church is self-righteousness, and our greatest enemy is ourselves. When we self-righteously condemn others without recognizing our own sins, the rest of the world justly condemns us as hypocrites. How can we affirm our beliefs while avoiding the trap of self-righteousness? By following the psalmist's example and praying, "Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths," and by adopting a spirit of humility.

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 (first published 30 November 2003)

In the context of talking about raising children, one of my seminary professors spoke of the need, as they grow older, gradually to let them go and to let them assume more responsibility for themselves, because it is our job as parents to prepare them to be productive, well-balanced adults. We should encourage our children to follow their dreams, even if it means that they will move far away from us. When they visit us at Christmas or on vacation, we realize that our relationship has changed. We are still their parents, but they are now adults like we are. We can give advice, but we can't insist that they follow it. Moreover, we have to admit that sometimes their understanding of God's will is better than ours, particularly when it comes to their own lives. When they leave to return home, we might like to go with them, to instruct them directly the way we did when they were younger, but of course we can't do that. They have their own lives to lead, and if we've raised them well, they'll succeed at least as often as we ourselves did when we were their age. So we let them go, but not without a prayer for their safety and for their wisdom to know God's will. "We can do no more," my professor said, "and we certainly would do no less." For Paul, the members of the church in Thessalonica were like his children. He founded the church on his second missionary journey, and after he departed under threat of persecution, he longed to know how the church was progressing. Was it still a vital, growing congregation, or had it withered on the vine? Unable to visit himself, he sent his colleague Timothy to see how the church fared and to encourage the people. When Timothy returned with the news that the church was thriving, Paul was overjoyed, and he sat down to write the letter to the church that has been passed down to us as 1 Thessalonians. Telephones, e-mail, and instant messenger (IM) programs [and blogs, Skype, and Twitter] are great technological advances that allow us to stay in contact with our loved ones who live across the country or on the other side of the world from us, but they are no substitute for face to face meetings. The Christmas holidays are traditionally a time of family get-togethers where we can spend time with friends and family whom we don't see every day. Many, however, are unable to spend the holidays with their loved ones. Perhaps they are deployed overseas on military assignment, or maybe their job has taken them far away and time or financial constraints prevent gathering together this year. If so, it is important to keep them in our prayers, asking God to protect and guide them. The Advent season is one of hope, and as we pray for God to intervene in global affairs, we can also ask God to put merciful hands on those we love. We can do no more, and we certainly would do no less.

[Updated for 2009!]

Luke 21:25-36

One of the cinematic blockbusters of the season is the movie 2012. Based on the idea that the Mayan "long calendar" terminates at the end of the twelfth cycle of years and the current world will be replaced by a new one on the following day, the beginning of the thirteenth cycle. Taking into account that the Mayans dated the creation of the world to 11 August 3114 BCE, the destruction of the world calculates to 21 December 2012, and the movie portrays a series of worldwide catastrophes that characters in the know do their best to avoid. As it turns out, the Mayan long calendar actually ends after the twentieth cycle (i.e., 13 October 4772), but who wants to wait that long to see a movie? The belief that the world will end with a bang rather than a whimper has a long history, including some readings of passages from the New Testament, such as today's reading from Luke describing the advent of the "Son of Man," a figure based on Daniel 7:13-14. Dispensationalist Christians have been predicting the end of the world in connection with the Second Coming of Christ for more than twenty years. Predictions of disaster, not all related to the overblown Y2K threat, swirled around the year 2000. Fears of natural disasters resulting from global warming, meteor impact, or pandemic disease are widespread, as are fears of anthropogenic disasters such as nuclear war, biological contagion, or technology run amok. Even if these short-term worries fail to be realized, there is no doubt that the world as we know it will end some day. Impact by a meteor is likely within the next several million years, and scientists say that the sun will run out of fuel for its fusion reactions and go nova in a few billion years, destroying all the inner planets, including earth. Long before then the earth will become uninhabitable because of increased radiation from the sun. Whether the end of the world comes within the next few or the next few million years, how will people respond as the end approaches? Many will probably face the end with a sense of dread, even despair. Others will refuse to believe that anything disastrous will take place. Still others will face the end with a sense of calm, bolstered by their faith. In our passage, Jesus warns his disciples to be alert, not distracted by the cares of the world. There are so many things to be distracted by at this time of the year--especially this year--that it's easy to fall into the trap of focusing on the less important rather than the more important aspects of life. The Great Recession continues to take its toll on us; the war in Afghanistan still limps along, threatening to become another Vietnam, or at least another "Russians in Afghanistan"; the health care crisis looms even larger as the economy teeters on the brink of implosion; swine flu and bird flu and seasonal flu and HIV and TB on steroids and more, and more, and more.... As we begin Advent, it's important to remember that all the cares of the world will pass away, along with all the people of this generation and eventually all future generations, and all that will remain is what's eternal. That's what we need to focus on during this Advent season.