The Occupy Wall Street movement continues to spread throughout the
U.S. and the world as its message of economic injustice touches a nerve
with the vast majority of the world's people (members of the movement
refer to themselves as the 99%). This week protesters in New York City
exercised peaceful civil disobedience outside some of the largest banks
and investment firms, admonishing them for their greed and sense of
entitlement and challenging them to use their immense resources to help
the poor. Similar protests have been heard in Oakland, Portland,
Atlanta, London, Melbourne, Madrid, Buenos Aires, Athens, and hundreds
of other cities. Liberation theologians and others who view the world
critically through a theological lens have long spoken about the
structural injustice that pervades the global economic system, but such
protests are hardly new. The prophet Ezekiel rails against those who
oppressed the Jews in his day, comparing them to rams that bully the
vulnerable animals in the flock. "Because you pushed with flank and
shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you
scattered them far and wide, I will save my flock, and they shall no
longer be ravaged; and I will judge between sheep and sheep." And what
will become of these bullies, who take advantage of their relative
strength in order to prop themselves up at others' expense? "I will
seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the
injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I
will destroy. I will feed them with justice." The notion of feeding
society's bullies with justice is a satisfying one for many who are
struggling to make ends meet, searching desperately for a job, trying to
claw their way out of debt, or facing monumental medical bills with
insufficient insurance, or none at all. The Occupy Movement reminds
progressive Christians that our faith calls us to stand with the
oppressed and against their oppressors, whether they are individuals,
groups, corporations, or governments. If we sit idly by and do nothing
while the rich continue to exploit the poor, we may ourselves on the
receiving end of a mouthful of justice.
Psalm 100 (first published 20 November 2005)
The Rise of Silas Lapham, the best known work of late 19th/early
20th century author William Dean Howells (the "father of realism"), tells
the story of the title character, a "self-made man." Lapham rises from
nothing and makes a fortune in the paint business, only to overextend
himself and end his life where he began, with nothing. Howells, Henry
James, Mark Twain, and other American realists wrote about characters who
aspired to greatness but who usually succumbed to their own weakness of
character or lack of perception. Unlike the earlier romantic authors or
the later objectivists (especially Ayn Rand), the realists saw humans as
beings of substantial, but limited, potential. They were capable of
achievement, but few were capable of sustained success. Despite the
popularity of realism for a time in literary circles, it never really
caught on in the mind of the general public. The average American wants
to believe that he can achieve anything if he puts his mind to it and
works hard enough. The fact that the vast majority of people have to
settle for something less than their ideal doesn't seem to phase us. We
believe we can accomplish anything, we believe we can realize our
dreams--we even believe we can win the lottery! That can-do attitude is
beneficial when it encourages us to continue striving toward our goals in
spite of setbacks, but it is detrimental when it drives us pursue goals
that are unrealistic or unattainable. It is even more hazardous when it
instills in us a feeling that, when we succeed, we really are self-made
men and women. The Masoretic Text of Psalm 100:3 says, in part, "Know
that the Lord is God. It is he that made us, and not we ourselves." The
psalm probably originally said, "It is he that made us, and we are his,"
as an alternative Hebrew reading has it. The difference between the two
readings is one letter in Hebrew, and the two words are pronounced
identically. Since the verse continues, "We are his people, and the sheep
of his pasture," the reading "we are his" certainly makes better sense in
the context. God is our creator, and because of that, God has first claim
on us. We belong to God, and God cares for us, as a shepherd cares for
his flock. The standard (kethib) reading of the Masoretic Text may
not be the preferred reading of textual critics and translators, but it
too has a powerful message for people today. God made us, and not we
ourselves. None of us is a self-made individual. Perhaps a better way to
put it is this: to the extent that we are self-made, we are in danger of
falling apart. However, to the extent that we are God-made, our lives are
incorruptible. It is good to set high goals and strive for them, but only
if we do so with the knowledge that we belong to God and that every good
and perfect gift comes from God. Have you achieved great things in life?
Praise God for them. Have you encountered obstacles on your way to
success? Ask God to help you overcome them. Have you reached a roadblock
in life, and you're unsure which way to turn? Don't feel like a failure
because you're unable to achieve all your dreams. God has a dream for
you, and God is ready to put you on the road to achieving that dream for
your life, if only you will acknowledge that it is God who has made us,
and not we ourselves.
Ephesians 1:15-23 (first published 20 November 2005)
In the movie Kingdom of Heaven, which is set in the aftermath of
the Second Crusade, Christians stream from all over Europe toward the Holy
Land, intent on finding forgiveness for their sins, attaining wealth, or
fighting the Lord's battles. Along the way the crusaders are accosted by
an itinerant preacher, who advises them that killing the godless (i.e.,
the Muslims) is not murder but rather a glorious act of obedience to God.
When they arrive in Jerusalem, they find the city ruled by a good but
terminally ill king, but threatened by foolish Christian troops intent on
picking a fight with Saladin, leader of the Saracens. They eventually
succeed in provoking Saladin, but they are destroyed by an army that has
superior numbers, weaponry, and leadership. After the crusader's army is
defeated in the field, Saladin proceeds to Jerusalem and captures it.
The movie ends with Balian, the fictional main character in the film,
having escaped Jerusalem and returned to his home in France. He meets the
English King Richard the Lionheart, who is headed to Jerusalem to fight
the Third Crusade. The history of the Crusades is a tale of great (though
misplaced) idealism and courage, but at the same time it is a tale of
wickedness and foolishness. The people who had the vision for the
Crusades wanted to see the church triumphant in the land of its birth, but
they lacked the wisdom to imagine a solution that involved something other
than wholesale slaughter of their enemies. Today's reading from Ephesians
says, "I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory,
may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him."
God's revelation, a vision of what God wants in the world, is useless
unless it is accompanied by the wisdom to interpret and implement the
revelation. The laudable Christian vision of a worldwide church daily
living out God's kingdom has too often devolved into bloody fights with
the church's perceived enemies, or even with other Christians. In the
Fourth Crusade, Western Christians sacked Constantinople, the capital of
Eastern Christendom, and established a Latin kingdom there that lasted
almost 100 years. The Children's Crusades of the early 13th century are
perhaps the best examples of the folly behind the whole concept of the
Crusades. Spurred on by the belief that God's enemies would be defeated
by the innocence of children, tens of thousands of children, encouraged by
child preachers, began to march toward the Holy Land to confront the
Muslims. None of them made it; they were all either sold into slavery,
placed in brothels, or killed along the way. The lack of wisdom is
evident today in the foreign policy of nations that seem to believe that
waging war will be blessed by God because of their national righteousness
(or the rightness of their cause, which amounts to the same thing). In
this regard they are no different than the regimes that they seek to
overthrow or the terrorist organizations that are led by self-righteous
megalomaniacs. The vision of a better world is good, but without the
wisdom that comes from God--a wisdom characterized by love of one's
neighbor (including one's enemies), a desire for peace, and a commitment
to justice--the vision is too easily perverted into a nightmare of evil
and suffering. It is time for Christians to stop fighting the Crusades.
The cross is not a symbol of war but a reminder of innocent suffering
caused by war and other forms of injustice. May God give us wisdom to
interpret and implement our visions of the kingdom of heaven.
Matthew 25:31-46 (first published 20 November 2005)
Martin Luther was a tortured soul. He longed to be worthy of God's eternal reward, but he was terrified that he would be found worthy only of God's eternal reprobation. As he struggled with these feelings, he ran across a verse in Romans that filled him with hope: "the just by faith shall live." For Luther, the understanding that no one can be justified by good deeds was a life-changing, even a life-saving, revelation. Justification comes only by faith, Luther said, and even faith is a gift of God. The doctrine of justification by faith has continued to be the centerpiece of Protestant soteriology through the ages. Somewhere along the way, though, too many Protestants and their spiritual descendants have neglected another major teaching of the New Testament, a teaching attributed to Jesus himself, that says that Christ's followers will be judged by their deeds. How to reconcile the idea of justification by faith with the principle that we will be judged for the way in which we treat other people is a matter for a longer theological discussion. However, in brief, I don't think that the two concepts are incompatible, particularly if we pay attention to the admonition of James: "Show me your faith without works and I'll show you my faith by my works." Our gospel reading for today is Jesus' parable of the sheep and the goats (the third of today's readings that deal somehow with sheep). The scene is the final judgment, in which the Son of Man sits on his throne and judges the people. The criterion for the disposition of each case is simple: how did the person in question treat the needy with whom he came in contact? There is no question to which church the person belonged. Fine doctrinal points are not mentioned. Regular church attendance is irrelevant. All that matters in the parable is the way the defendant treated others. It is especially noteworthy that the person who is condemned to eternal punishment is not accused of actively persecuting the poor, the homeless, or the prisoners. The accusation is that the condemned did nothing explicit to help those in need. We often pat ourselves on the back and congratulate ourselves for being such good people, but are we really? We don't persecute others, but do we take a public stand against those who do? We don't turn the sick away from medical treatment, but do we do anything to help those who are turned away by others? We don't steal the limited resources of the poor, but do we replace what was stolen by the immoral people and structures of our society? Faith is important in Christianity, but so is meeting the real needs of the most desperate members of our society. Some people might dismiss these claims as the liberal rants of a fanatic, but that's OK. Jesus has been called worse.