Saturday Night Theologian
2 September 2012

Song of Solomon 2:8-13 (first published 31 August 2003)

Imagine a reader standing before the congregation on a Sunday morning. "Our Old Testament lesson today," he begins, "is from Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. . . .'" Such a reading might raise a few eyebrows. Some congregants might be indignant. "Why is he reading that? That's clearly not scripture!" Others might find it refreshing. "Well, we finally have a reading that's a little bit different!" Others might just find it amusing. "Someone must have tricked this guy into reading love poetry instead of the real reading. What a dope!" Today's reading is from a collection of love poems known as the Song of Solomon, the Song of Songs, or Canticles. Some people over the years have disputed its right to a place in the canon. Others have allegorized it so that it is read as an idealized description of God's love for Israel or God's love for the church. The allegorical interpretation probably best explains its acceptance into the canons of both Judaism and Christianity. Its attribution to King Solomon probably sealed the deal. How else would a collection of love poems gain recognition as sacred text? The historical-critical approach to biblical interpretation that has been prevalent for the last hundred years or so has little use for allegory. Conservative detractors of the historical-critical approach largely agree with their opponents that a more literal approach to the Bible is better. However, I think that an allegorical approach to a passage such as the one before us today has some value, particularly if we are interested in how it has been understood by previous generations of believers. Taken allegorically, this passage paints a luscious portrait of God's love for believers. He is likened to a gazelle, running swiftly over the mountains, leaping high in the air, beautiful to behold. And this exotic, mysterious being longs to share our company! "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." This reading of the passage reminds us that we don't seek God, God seeks us. God initiates the relationship, and if we respond to God's overtures, our lives will never be the same. When we move from an allegorical to a literal (or, better, literary) approach, the poems in this book say something profound about the love of one human being for another. Human love at its best inspires, exalts, and transforms us. When two people love each other, their lives together are more than just the sum of the two individuals, for their love causes each one to grow. "Now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land." Love makes the heart feel like spring. Without love, life is drained of its joy.

Psalm 45:1-2, 6-9 (first published 31 August 2003)

"A God can do anything," said Peachey, in Rudyard Kipling's "The Man Who Would Be King." "If the King is fond of a girl he'll not let her die." Peachey and Dan had conned a group of people in a small, isolated country in the Middle East into thinking that they were gods. Because Dan was clearly the dominant of the two, the people made him king. All was going well until Dan decided that a king needed a royal consort, and he forced the people to let him take a wife. His wife, afraid of dying if she were taken by a god, bit him, and Dan bled, proving he wasn't a god at all, but only a man. People today show respect to their leaders in various ways. Britons curtsey to the Queen, and Americans stand when the President enters a room. In the ancient Near East, kings were often spoken of as though they were divine. Is ancient Israel, the usual manner of associating a king with God was to say that he was the (adopted) son of God, but in Psalm 45:6, the king is actually called God. Because of the unusual nature of this appellation, scholars have labeled this verse a crux interpretum, that is, a passage that has long been recognized as particularly difficult to interpret. Despite the rather straightforward Hebrew syntax, scholars have proposed a number of alternate translations: "Your throne is a throne of God forever," or "God is your throne forever." One of the most ingenious proposals is based on evidence from Ugaritic, an ancient Canaanite language closely related to Hebrew: "God has enthroned you forever and ever." All of these alternate translations have problems of their own, so perhaps it is best to follow the Hebrew (and the Greek Septuagint, which is quoted in Hebrews 1:8) and try to make sense of it. The setting of Psalm 45 is a royal wedding, and the king is addressed in glowing exaggerations. Verse 2 says, "You are the most handsome of men; grace is poured upon your lips; therefore God has blessed you forever." It is not too much of a stretch to imagine calling the king elohim, a god, or divine being, even though the term is normally restricted to God and to other heavenly beings (cf. Psalm 82:1). Isaiah 9:6 is another example of the king being called a god (Heb. el). It is evident from the context that the divine status of the king is lower than that of God, for in verse 7 the psalmist says, "Therefore God, your God, has anointed you" (originally this read "Therefore Yahweh your God has anointed you; this psalm is part of the so-called Elohistic Psalter, Psalms 42-83, in which the name of God [Yahweh] was regularly, though not with absolute consistency, replaced with the word elohim). To recap: the king is addressed in exalted terms, calling him the greatest mortal and equal to the heavenly beings that surround the throne of God. Is it right to glorify leaders to such an extent? What are the limits? What are the responsibilities of leaders? While modern leaders--political, corporate, religious, etc.--should be treated with respect, praise should not be such that it either goes to the leader's head or causes followers to follow the leader blindly. The psalm points out some of the responsibilities of leaders: to stand up for truth, to defend what is right, to lead fairly, to love justice, and to oppose that which is wrong. These demands of leadership apply in the statehouse, the courthouse, the White House, the boardroom, the classroom, the office, and the home. Leadership is something to which many aspire, but only leaders who exhibit the qualities the Bible demands have earned the respect to which their position entitles them.

James 1:17-27

The Republican National Convention just wrapped up, and as with most political events, there was a lot of talking. People complained, boasted, exaggerated, lied, exhorted, and made great promises. The highlight of the convention, in the minds of many, was when Clint Eastwood carried on a conversation with an invisible President Obama sitting in a chair next to him on the stage. There was even talk that a holographic Ronald Reagan would show up, though he never made an appearance. Perhaps he's waiting to be offered a chair at the Democratic National Convention which begins later this week, another event sure to be filled with talking. Words are fine things when used properly, but they can be evil as well: when they distort the truth, when they slander, when they incite hatred, when they foment fear of "the other." Today's passage from the book of James warns against using words in anger or to promote evil, but it also reminds us that speaking good words is not enough. Good intentions don't change the world for the better. Only good works do. One of the great inadequacies of the Protestant Reformation was the failure to follow the doctrine of sola fide with an emphasis on the necessity of action. Because of his own misgivings about his worthiness to experience God's love, Martin Luther clung so tightly to the notion of faith that he urged the expulsion of James from the New Testament canon. That he was unsuccessful in persuading others is good, yet James's message of the importance of doing good works was relegated to a sort of second class status in the minds of many. While never completely forgotten, it often fell to groups outside the church to promote the social welfare--the Sunday School movement (originally designed to promote literacy), the Salvation Army, YMCA and YWCA, the Women's Suffrage Movement, and others. The idea of the social gospel made some headway in mainstream Protestant denominations in the late nineteenth century, following the lead of Walter Rauschenbusch, and among Roman Catholics after Pope Leo XIII published the encyclical Rerum Novarum, but the greatest strides forward came with the advent of the Civil Rights movement, led by Christians in African-American churches, the Second Vatican Council, and proponents of liberation theology and its allies. The liberation theologians in particular emphasized the importance of praxis (action) alongside theological reflection, and they stressed the need for orthopraxy (correct action) as well as orthodoxy (correct doctrine). And what constitutes orthopraxy? James gives us a couple of concrete examples. The first, caring for orphans and widows in their distress, has obvious modern applications. People of faith are to care for the poor, the weak, and the marginalized. They should promote policies, both private and public, that strive to meet the needs of the most vulnerable in our society. The second, keeping oneself unstained by the world, requires further comment. Although it is often read as a warning against falling into the world's "minor vices" such as addiction to drugs, alcohol, or illicit sex (however that might be defined), I think it refers more directly to the greater vices of our modern world: greed, selfishness, a false sense of self-sufficiency, lack of compassion for others, excessive nationalism, and a vice that has been promoted from the list of seven deadly sins to become a modern virtue, pride. Words matter. Harmful words can hurt as much as sticks and stones, and helpful words can promote peace and healing. But positive actions take up where positive words leave off, transforming ideas into reality.

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 (first published 31 August 2003)

A newlywed couple were about to celebrate their first Thanksgiving together, and they invited the girl's family to dinner. As she prepared the ham, her husband noticed that she cut the end off before putting it in the pan and sticking it in the oven. "Why did you cut the end off?" he asked. "That's the way you make ham," she said. "Why?" "I'm not really sure, but that's the way Mom always made it, so I'm sure there's a reason." When her mother arrived later that day, the girl asked, "Mom, why do you cut the end off the ham before putting it in the oven?" "I don't know, honey, I guess I do it because my mother always did it. We'll ask her when she gets here." When the girl's grandmother arrived, they asked her, "Why do you cut the end off the ham before you put it in the oven?" "That's easy," she replied. "I cut the end off so it will fit in the pan!" Traditions often derive from practices that made sense at some point in the past, but they might not continue to be reasonable in this day and time. Jesus was confronted with a group of people who followed a number of religious rituals and wondered why Jesus' disciples did not do the same. The particular rituals described all deal with ceremonial washings, and they weren't problematic in and of themselves. In fact, washing hands, dishes, and food is a good, sanitary idea. However, the religious leaders wanted to elevate these rituals from the level of custom to the level of prescribed activity. They failed to realize that rituals have no intrinsic value; they are simply symbols that can point the believer to a spiritual truth. Rituals that are followed blindly can turn into superstitions, and superstitions are more likely to do harm than good. Instead of focusing on external factors as a possible source for evil, Jesus told his disciples to focus on what comes out of a person. Indeed, it is clear that fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, and folly are a good bit more dangerous than ritual impurity. Christians need to fight the tendency to take something good and turn it into a superstition or an idol. The Ten Commandments boulder in the Alabama courthouse that was removed this week is a prime example. The Ten Commandments themselves are important words and deserve to be thought about and studied by all of God's followers. However, engraving them on a boulder, then sneaking them into a courthouse in the dead of night to avoid opposition, turns the monument into an idol, cheapening the Ten Commandments that are inscribed on it. Christians get upset at the silliest things. There are plenty of serious problems in the world that deserve our concern: hunger, poverty, health care, education, global warming, conservation of natural resources, Third World debt relief, war, and many others. In comparison to these important issues, a slab of rock just doesn't seem that important, especially when it's clear that the monument was created and installed in the courthouse to make a political point of opposition to the principle of the separation of church and state. What do you get when you squeeze an orange? Normally you get orange juice. However, if someone squeezes most of the juice out of the orange first, then uses a syringe to inject grape juice into the orange, what you'll get when you squeeze it is grape juice. Thus, the right answer to the question, what do you get when you squeeze an orange is, whatever is inside. Are our hearts filled with love, joy, kindness, and peace, so that when we're squeezed, that's what come out? Or are we filled with greed, selfishness, and pride? If so, then we will defile ourselves when those traits come pouring out of us.