A word about divine names. . . .
In our reading for today God says to Moses—“I am the LORD; I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as God Almighty, but by my name, ‘The LORD’ I did not make myself known to them” (Exodus 6:30).
The name of God “El Shaddai” in Hebrew is rendered in English “God Most High” or “God Almighty.” This is the name by which the patriarchs had known the God who had singled them out as his own possession. For them there might well be other gods and powers out there, but El Shaddai was theirs and they were his. He had chosen them out of all the earth to be his own particular people.
Now at this beginning of this new chapter in the story of the Family of Promise, God reveal to Moses another name for himself, a strange name in which there is all meaning and no meaning. That name was considered too holy to utter. So that name, YHWH—meaning equally “I am who I am” and “I was who I was” and “I will be who I will be”—is usually rendered in scripture as “LORD”—pronounced “Adonai”--and spelled in capital letters to signify the unspeakable divine Name.
In a time when divine names are casually used “in vain,” it is difficult for us to understand the profound reverence Israel had for the Name that is above every other name. Every attempt was made to secure it from being used to manipulate God in any way by magic or to cheapen and profane his majesty by its careless use.
While we are on the subject of magic, note how important magic is to the story of Moses. Doing magic is one of the charismatic powers he received from God to perform his calling. It is part of his “kit”--a weapon he could use to do God’s will in bringing the people out of Egypt.
The Bible does not question the reality of magic. But not all magic is the same. The LORD is not the only power at work in the universe. Moses can do magic, but so can the magicians of Pharaoh. In our reading it says that “Pharaoh summoned the wise men and sorcerers; and they also, the magicians of Egypt, did the same [signs] by their secret arts” (7:11).
So we are left with the conclusion there is holy magic and there is unholy magic. Holy magic—what C.S. Lewis called “deep magic”—draws on God’s power to reveal and accomplish his will. We call this magic “miracles.” Unholy magic--done by “secret arts” to attract attention to itself--draws on the power of other gods and powers. It obscures the LORD’s will and attempts to foil his purposes.
This is a good time to say a one further word about miracles.
Miracles are always ambiguous. Unless they are accompanied by faith, it is impossible to say where they come from or what they mean. The Spirit of God gives the faith necessary to see in any event--uniquely wonderful or perfectly ordinary--the hand of God to work.
Without the living Spirit, we are in the position of Pharaoh in our text. Pharaoh was not convinced by Moses’ magic because his heart was “hardened.” His magicians could do the same things.
And miracles alone cannot create faith. We need to remember that. They draw upon existing faith and strengthen it. But they only have meaning within a relationship that has already been established by faith as a gift of the Holy Spirit. Otherwise the greatest miracles are only flukes of nature and slight of hand.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 17 -- Exodus 1-4
In the first chapter of Exodus we encounter the first recorded incidence of genocide— an organized program intended to destroy an ethnic group or nation. The motive of genocide is always fear—fear of the outsider among us. So Pharaoh says to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and powerful than we” (1:9). In the event of war, they might constitute a “fifth column,” an enemy within.
Whether this was a real danger hardly matters. The perception was there. The fear was real, and the fear took the form of politically motivated mass murder.
During their long history, the Jews have often been the victims of genocide. They are the archetypical outsiders within. Even in this earliest time, the Children of Israel defined themselves in terms of being radically different from the societies around them. The signs of their difference—circumcision, dietary restrictions, the keeping of the Sabbath—have often seemed irrational to their neighbors—irrational, sinister, and dangerous.
Whatever the practical reasons for observing these sacred laws and practices, their effect has always been to set the People of the Promise apart—to make them different. Their differences defined them. They could not be the same as everyone else and be Chosen. To be part of the Family of Promise was to be different, and being visibly different lead to persecution.
But in the midst of persecution, a deliverer always appears—a messiah. The word “messiah” means “deliverer.” A messiah is one through whom God is at work to save his people. The story of the miraculous finding of the baby Moses among the bulrushes is a Sunday School favorite, but its point is profound. In a time of crisis another Child of Promise has appeared to save his people, different from Joseph but having the same divine charisma. He is Different. . . .
Like Joseph, Moses is set apart by his integrity—a thirst for justice that is revealed in his murder of the Egyptian he sees beating a Hebrew (2:11ff). Because of this rash action, he is forced to flee into the wilderness. It is a set-back. But God uses set-backs to push forward his agenda.
Moses, like Joseph, is blessed—which means “lucky” and “happy.” A fugitive in the land of Midian, having lost everything, he finds a new family, marries, and fathers a child. But the life of a shepherd is not his destiny; in the wilderness God calls him from a burning bush to go “to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt” (3:10).
He is a messiah—called to be a deliverer. But Moses demands something to validate his call. He wants the Name of the One who has called him. He wrestles with God, like Jacob. He demands a special blessing.
And in answer to Moses’ demand, God reveals his name. It is, in fact, two names. One is an historical one—“I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (3:6). God is the God who reveals himself in history. We know God by the way he works in our lives to save us and in history to preserve his people.
Yet there is more to God than he ever reveals. So the other name Moses receives—“I AM WHO I AM” (3:14)--is mysterious, impossible to fully grasp. It can mean anything. God just IS. And God we worship is both—one we know intimately by his faithfulness and mercy, and one we can never know completely. God is the one who always knows more than he will say--the one who always is more than he will ever show--the one who always has one more surprise up His sleeve.
Whether this was a real danger hardly matters. The perception was there. The fear was real, and the fear took the form of politically motivated mass murder.
During their long history, the Jews have often been the victims of genocide. They are the archetypical outsiders within. Even in this earliest time, the Children of Israel defined themselves in terms of being radically different from the societies around them. The signs of their difference—circumcision, dietary restrictions, the keeping of the Sabbath—have often seemed irrational to their neighbors—irrational, sinister, and dangerous.
Whatever the practical reasons for observing these sacred laws and practices, their effect has always been to set the People of the Promise apart—to make them different. Their differences defined them. They could not be the same as everyone else and be Chosen. To be part of the Family of Promise was to be different, and being visibly different lead to persecution.
But in the midst of persecution, a deliverer always appears—a messiah. The word “messiah” means “deliverer.” A messiah is one through whom God is at work to save his people. The story of the miraculous finding of the baby Moses among the bulrushes is a Sunday School favorite, but its point is profound. In a time of crisis another Child of Promise has appeared to save his people, different from Joseph but having the same divine charisma. He is Different. . . .
Like Joseph, Moses is set apart by his integrity—a thirst for justice that is revealed in his murder of the Egyptian he sees beating a Hebrew (2:11ff). Because of this rash action, he is forced to flee into the wilderness. It is a set-back. But God uses set-backs to push forward his agenda.
Moses, like Joseph, is blessed—which means “lucky” and “happy.” A fugitive in the land of Midian, having lost everything, he finds a new family, marries, and fathers a child. But the life of a shepherd is not his destiny; in the wilderness God calls him from a burning bush to go “to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt” (3:10).
He is a messiah—called to be a deliverer. But Moses demands something to validate his call. He wants the Name of the One who has called him. He wrestles with God, like Jacob. He demands a special blessing.
And in answer to Moses’ demand, God reveals his name. It is, in fact, two names. One is an historical one—“I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (3:6). God is the God who reveals himself in history. We know God by the way he works in our lives to save us and in history to preserve his people.
Yet there is more to God than he ever reveals. So the other name Moses receives—“I AM WHO I AM” (3:14)--is mysterious, impossible to fully grasp. It can mean anything. God just IS. And God we worship is both—one we know intimately by his faithfulness and mercy, and one we can never know completely. God is the one who always knows more than he will say--the one who always is more than he will ever show--the one who always has one more surprise up His sleeve.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 16 --Genesis 48-50
Ancient Israel placed boundless store by deathbed blessings. They had the binding power of a last will and testament. A father’s blessing given to favored son not only insured his rights of inheritance, it also provided a surge of spiritual power that carried him through his life, and continued to bring a special measure of luck and happiness to his descendants throughout many generations.
In the reading for today, at the climax of a long string of these benedictions, Jacob says—“The blessings of your father are stronger than the blessings of the eternal mountains, and the bounties of the everlasting hills; may they be on the head of Joseph and the brow of him who was set apart from his brothers” (49:26). Joseph is the Chosen among the chosen—his father’s final blessing seals his position as the Child of Promise. And his status is ratified when he sees to the burial of his father, the last duty of a faithful son (50:1ff).
We have already encountered the story of how Esau lost Isaac’s last blessing to Jacob in Chapter 27 by trickery. Now Jacob takes no chances in granting his own final blessings—some enthusiastic and others guarded and ambiguous—to his sons.
The people of Israel would see Jacob’s last blessings worked out in the subsequent history of the Family of Promise. The character of Jacob’s sons—their weaknesses and their virtues—are passed down as an inheritance to the tribes that bear their names.
So these deathbed blessings granted to the one who gave them a measure of earthly immortality. When Jacob blesses Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh he says, “In them let my name be perpetuated, and the name of my ancestors Abraham and Isaac; and let them grow into a multitude on the earth” (48:16).
We modern people do not give enough thought to the influence—for good and for evil—that past actions have upon the present and the future. That the weight of the past is both a blessing and a curse is one of the recurring themes of the Bible narrative, however. Actions—both evil and good—influence not just the destiny of the one who performs them, but also that of his or her children’s children, generations into the future. And words of blessing and curse, once spoken, become real things that do not pass out of existence like a puff of a wind. Words endure, long outlasting the one who speaks them.
So in the Bible narrative blessings and curses have an objective influence upon the destiny of persons and families. They have spiritual weight and significance that we modern people have to struggle to fully appreciate. But the modern science of genetics testifies to an ancient truth—each of us carries the record of all our fathers and mothers. The past never really dies. And history testifies that actions, even those performed very long ago, continue to have real consequences in the present and the potential for creating both happiness and tragedy in the future.
In the reading for today, at the climax of a long string of these benedictions, Jacob says—“The blessings of your father are stronger than the blessings of the eternal mountains, and the bounties of the everlasting hills; may they be on the head of Joseph and the brow of him who was set apart from his brothers” (49:26). Joseph is the Chosen among the chosen—his father’s final blessing seals his position as the Child of Promise. And his status is ratified when he sees to the burial of his father, the last duty of a faithful son (50:1ff).
We have already encountered the story of how Esau lost Isaac’s last blessing to Jacob in Chapter 27 by trickery. Now Jacob takes no chances in granting his own final blessings—some enthusiastic and others guarded and ambiguous—to his sons.
The people of Israel would see Jacob’s last blessings worked out in the subsequent history of the Family of Promise. The character of Jacob’s sons—their weaknesses and their virtues—are passed down as an inheritance to the tribes that bear their names.
So these deathbed blessings granted to the one who gave them a measure of earthly immortality. When Jacob blesses Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh he says, “In them let my name be perpetuated, and the name of my ancestors Abraham and Isaac; and let them grow into a multitude on the earth” (48:16).
We modern people do not give enough thought to the influence—for good and for evil—that past actions have upon the present and the future. That the weight of the past is both a blessing and a curse is one of the recurring themes of the Bible narrative, however. Actions—both evil and good—influence not just the destiny of the one who performs them, but also that of his or her children’s children, generations into the future. And words of blessing and curse, once spoken, become real things that do not pass out of existence like a puff of a wind. Words endure, long outlasting the one who speaks them.
So in the Bible narrative blessings and curses have an objective influence upon the destiny of persons and families. They have spiritual weight and significance that we modern people have to struggle to fully appreciate. But the modern science of genetics testifies to an ancient truth—each of us carries the record of all our fathers and mothers. The past never really dies. And history testifies that actions, even those performed very long ago, continue to have real consequences in the present and the potential for creating both happiness and tragedy in the future.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Day 15 -- Genesis 46-47
You can hear the eternal stagehands moving the sets. A new act is beginning for the Family of the Promise-- Israel in Egypt. But at the very outset of the journey into a new land the Nameless One speaks to Jacob—“I am God, the God of your father; do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make of you a great nation there. I myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I will bring you up again; and Joseph’s own hand shall close your eyes” (46:3).
“Do not be afraid”—it is the good news—the Gospel—at its most essential. It is what the angel said to Mary. It is what the messenger said the shepherds keeping watch in the fields by night. A great change is about to take place, but you should not be afraid. I am with you.
There were solid reasons for uneasiness. It was the end of Jacob’s life. It was the beginning of a new act. It was a time of transition. Transitions—a move, a death, children leaving home—are the most stressful moments in our lives. Those transitions can take a terrible toll on our health and our peace of mind. “Three moves are worse than a fire,” my mama used to say.
But the Lord is with us, especially in those times of transition, just as he assured Israel that he would be. He always goes with us.
There are a number of tensions present throughout the Old Testament. One of them is the tension between farmers and ranchers. It’s played out in all those old western movies. It erupts in Cain’s murder of his brother Abel. It shows up in the reading for today in the tension between the agrarian society of Egypt and the semi-nomadic shepherd society of the Hebrews. They settle in the sparsely populated northern part of Egypt—lower Egypt—because “shepherds are abhorrent to the Egyptians.” Sheep and goats destroy crops. This tension will continue to grow throughout Israel’s sojourn in Egypt and climax in the events of the Exodus.
There is a touching moment in chapter 47:7ff where Joseph brings his father to meet Pharaoh, who questions him about his age. Only 130—“few and hard have been the years of my life,” the old man says (9). Then Israel blesses Pharaoh. And the presence of the Jews—contrary to so much racist propaganda throughout history—is a blessing to any nation in which they are allowed to live peacefully. The blessing of God on the Family of Promise rubs off on every other family. "By you all the families of the of the earth will be blessed," God promises Abraham.
Wherever the Jews have been welcomed, there has been prosperity and a flowering of culture; whereever they were persecuted, exterminated, and expelled, there has been darkness and a terrible curse.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Day 14 -- Genesis 43-45
The story of Joseph reaches it's climax in today's reading. Two things are satisfied by the conclusion--justice and mercy.
The elaborate game that Joseph plays with his unsuspecting brothers--the exchange of hostages, the silver cup secreted in Benjamin's sack, Joseph's pretended outrage-becomes an excruciating test of their repentance. Are they really sorry for their sin or just pretending? Is there integrity in these brothers who have acted so badly? Are they worth saving?
The silver cup itself is an interesting detail. It is not clear exactly how the cup would have been used for divination (44:5). It was probably filled with water or oil, small objects dropped in it, and conclusions drawn from the movement of the liquid. In any case, it was a precious object with magical properties, something Joseph himself used to divine the future, as people in later times use a crystal ball (44:15).
There are other ancient trappings in the story, but the message is clear---justice is built into the universe. The brothers who had callously sold Joseph into slavery must suffer in proportion to the suffering they caused. In order for forgiveness to be genuine, punishment must be real. Joseph intentionally draws it out, although to do so causes him genuine anguish and tears. Several times he is forced by his emotions to withdraw into a private room to weep (43:30).
But all this only serves to set the stage for a complete reconciliation. Joseph acknowledges his own misfortunes as the work of the Lord. His suffering has meaning--it has purchased his family's survival. "God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God. . . " (45:7-8).
Joseph's mercy mirrors the mercy of God for the "remnant." Some will perish. Many will suffer. But God will always preserve a "remnant"--that is the theme that runs through the Old Testament. Because of Joseph, a remnant survives the famine. Egypt is their refuge. (And their refuge will become a prison--but that comes later.) But for now the memory of God's covenant is being kept alive to testify to his faithfulness.
So our reading ends with the words of old man Jacob--"Enough! My son Joseph is still alive. I must go and see him before I die" (45:28). The Family of Promise will go together down to Egypt, where it will multiply and grow into a nation. Israel's history is about to open onto a larger stage.
The elaborate game that Joseph plays with his unsuspecting brothers--the exchange of hostages, the silver cup secreted in Benjamin's sack, Joseph's pretended outrage-becomes an excruciating test of their repentance. Are they really sorry for their sin or just pretending? Is there integrity in these brothers who have acted so badly? Are they worth saving?
The silver cup itself is an interesting detail. It is not clear exactly how the cup would have been used for divination (44:5). It was probably filled with water or oil, small objects dropped in it, and conclusions drawn from the movement of the liquid. In any case, it was a precious object with magical properties, something Joseph himself used to divine the future, as people in later times use a crystal ball (44:15).
There are other ancient trappings in the story, but the message is clear---justice is built into the universe. The brothers who had callously sold Joseph into slavery must suffer in proportion to the suffering they caused. In order for forgiveness to be genuine, punishment must be real. Joseph intentionally draws it out, although to do so causes him genuine anguish and tears. Several times he is forced by his emotions to withdraw into a private room to weep (43:30).
But all this only serves to set the stage for a complete reconciliation. Joseph acknowledges his own misfortunes as the work of the Lord. His suffering has meaning--it has purchased his family's survival. "God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God. . . " (45:7-8).
Joseph's mercy mirrors the mercy of God for the "remnant." Some will perish. Many will suffer. But God will always preserve a "remnant"--that is the theme that runs through the Old Testament. Because of Joseph, a remnant survives the famine. Egypt is their refuge. (And their refuge will become a prison--but that comes later.) But for now the memory of God's covenant is being kept alive to testify to his faithfulness.
So our reading ends with the words of old man Jacob--"Enough! My son Joseph is still alive. I must go and see him before I die" (45:28). The Family of Promise will go together down to Egypt, where it will multiply and grow into a nation. Israel's history is about to open onto a larger stage.
Day 13 -- Genesis 40-42
Sudden and joyful reversals are the stuff of fairy tales, and the story of Joseph is filled with such miraculous turns. In today's reading Joseph is hurriedly brought up out of the dungeon and ushered into the presence of Pharaoh to interpret the ruler's troubling dreams. Pharaoh is dazzled by the young Hebrew's wisdom and discernment, and he asks his servants, "Can we find anyone else like this--one in whom is the spirit of God?" (41:38)
The answer is, of course, "no." Joseph is unique. He is the Chosen One. He is blessed, lucky, and happy. He has charismatic gifts--chiefly the ability to interpret dreams.
We regard dreams as mental graffiti, not worthy of a second thought. That's too bad. We spend a third of our lives in the world of dreams. We fail to bring the insights and warnings dreams offer into our waking world.
But ancient people were very different in this. They remembered their dreams and reverenced them as divine speech. In dreams the gods revealed secrets and predicted the future. The art of dream interpretation was highly respected, especially in Egypt; many ancient books have been discovered dealing with the subject. There were experts available to interpret dreams. Joseph knew the language of dream interpretation--look at 41:32. He could speak the lingo of the experts.
But his interpretations were different from the experts. They were inspired. As Joseph says to his fellow prisoners, "Do not interpretations belong to God?" (40:8)
The answer is, of course, "yes." The dream that reveals the will of God can only be interpreted by the revelation of God--that's the principle upon which Joseph works. Dream interpretation stops being magic and becomes a part of the dialogue God initiates with human beings. The expert interpreter becomes the inspired prophet.
Ancient people were better listeners than we are. They were expectant listeners--they anticipated revelation. They expected to see meaning in everything and hear it everywhere. They were open to the voice of God speaking from whatever direction that voice came. They were surrounded by the divine.
We modern folks, who are bombarded with electronic voices and digital images, have become seriously impaired in our ability to hear God speak. We can still do it--we have the gift--we are just not very expectant listeners for the Voice of God. That is why the daily reading of the Bible is such an important discipline for believers today. It opens us to voice of God speaking to the Spirit of God within us.
The reading of the Bible in meditative silence enables us to overhear God speaking. We are still surrounded by revelation, but we also have the Holy Spirit within us to help us understand what we hear, just as Joseph did. We also have the gift, if we will just use it.
The answer is, of course, "no." Joseph is unique. He is the Chosen One. He is blessed, lucky, and happy. He has charismatic gifts--chiefly the ability to interpret dreams.
We regard dreams as mental graffiti, not worthy of a second thought. That's too bad. We spend a third of our lives in the world of dreams. We fail to bring the insights and warnings dreams offer into our waking world.
But ancient people were very different in this. They remembered their dreams and reverenced them as divine speech. In dreams the gods revealed secrets and predicted the future. The art of dream interpretation was highly respected, especially in Egypt; many ancient books have been discovered dealing with the subject. There were experts available to interpret dreams. Joseph knew the language of dream interpretation--look at 41:32. He could speak the lingo of the experts.
But his interpretations were different from the experts. They were inspired. As Joseph says to his fellow prisoners, "Do not interpretations belong to God?" (40:8)
The answer is, of course, "yes." The dream that reveals the will of God can only be interpreted by the revelation of God--that's the principle upon which Joseph works. Dream interpretation stops being magic and becomes a part of the dialogue God initiates with human beings. The expert interpreter becomes the inspired prophet.
Ancient people were better listeners than we are. They were expectant listeners--they anticipated revelation. They expected to see meaning in everything and hear it everywhere. They were open to the voice of God speaking from whatever direction that voice came. They were surrounded by the divine.
We modern folks, who are bombarded with electronic voices and digital images, have become seriously impaired in our ability to hear God speak. We can still do it--we have the gift--we are just not very expectant listeners for the Voice of God. That is why the daily reading of the Bible is such an important discipline for believers today. It opens us to voice of God speaking to the Spirit of God within us.
The reading of the Bible in meditative silence enables us to overhear God speaking. We are still surrounded by revelation, but we also have the Holy Spirit within us to help us understand what we hear, just as Joseph did. We also have the gift, if we will just use it.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 12 -- Genesis 37-39
In the Book of Genesis having offspring is the strongest imperative for both men and women. Remember Rachel's cry to her husband--"Give me children, or I shall die!" (30:1) (You have perhaps noticed that the childless have no place in the genealogies; their future is lost.) Having children to pass on the Promise to Abraham motivates everything.
So we need to read the story of Judah and Tamar in Chapter 38 in the light of this overarching imperative. The institution of "levirate marriage" provided that if a man died without issue, his wife would pass to his eldest brother (and occasionally to his father) with the injunction that he provide offspring for the dead man. The child of this union would be considered, legally and in every other way, the issue of the deceased. This institution remained in vigorous operation throughout the Old Testament period and into the time of Jesus.
It was completely practical. In a time when people oftened died young, levirate marriage insured that the memory of the dead would continue, that inheritance would be passed along in an orderly way, and that a bereft wife would be cared for and retain her place in the family.
The duty for a living brother to take a deceased brother's wife and raise up children for him was sacred in the Bible world. In our reading Judah's son Onan defies that duty and is put to death by the Lord as a result ( 38:10). Judah neglects that duty and has to be tricked into performing it by humiliating means. But the story is blame-neutral. Tamar uses the only weapons a woman--her sexuality and her wits--to insure her place in a world where the childless had none. No one could blame her for that.
And behind the scenes, God is always working to insure the continuation of the Family of Promise--that is also the theme of the wonderful tale of Joseph.
In the Bible the word for being blessed, being lucky and being happy are all the same. The meaning is completely interchangeable. Within the Family of Promise, Joseph is clearly the Chosen One. He has star quality--what we would call "charisma." It is something that is hard to define, but in every situation Joseph is always at the center. He shines. Favored by his father and blessed by God, he is remarkably lucky--and likeable. We want him to succeed.
Dogged by jealousy, he has the gift of being noticed and appreciated by the powerful. Pursued and then betrayed by women, he has the uncanny knack of turning misfortune into advantage.
We know from the beginning that Joseph's story will end happily because he has "it."
God's interest insures his ultimate happiness.
Besides charisma, however, Joseph also possesses integrity--the other quality that sets him apart. He is honest. He is loyal. And that uprightness is a clue to why some are Chosen Ones and others are not. God's choices are not arbitrary. He seeks out the potential for righteousness in people. He seeks out people with whom he can work.
Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, and now Joseph clearly have "it"--a quality that is hard to define, but impossible to overlook. None of these people is wholly good. In fact, they are all deeply flawed. They sometimes act despicably and suffer for it. But that does not ultimately matter, because God is able to work with them.
They are open to his grace. They are able to live in relationship with him--to "walk" with him-- to live "the new life." And as we read their stories, we should rejoice because so are we. We are also Chosen Ones. God has taken an interest in us, and his interest insures our ultimate happiness. We are blessed. Thanks be to God!
So we need to read the story of Judah and Tamar in Chapter 38 in the light of this overarching imperative. The institution of "levirate marriage" provided that if a man died without issue, his wife would pass to his eldest brother (and occasionally to his father) with the injunction that he provide offspring for the dead man. The child of this union would be considered, legally and in every other way, the issue of the deceased. This institution remained in vigorous operation throughout the Old Testament period and into the time of Jesus.
It was completely practical. In a time when people oftened died young, levirate marriage insured that the memory of the dead would continue, that inheritance would be passed along in an orderly way, and that a bereft wife would be cared for and retain her place in the family.
The duty for a living brother to take a deceased brother's wife and raise up children for him was sacred in the Bible world. In our reading Judah's son Onan defies that duty and is put to death by the Lord as a result ( 38:10). Judah neglects that duty and has to be tricked into performing it by humiliating means. But the story is blame-neutral. Tamar uses the only weapons a woman--her sexuality and her wits--to insure her place in a world where the childless had none. No one could blame her for that.
And behind the scenes, God is always working to insure the continuation of the Family of Promise--that is also the theme of the wonderful tale of Joseph.
In the Bible the word for being blessed, being lucky and being happy are all the same. The meaning is completely interchangeable. Within the Family of Promise, Joseph is clearly the Chosen One. He has star quality--what we would call "charisma." It is something that is hard to define, but in every situation Joseph is always at the center. He shines. Favored by his father and blessed by God, he is remarkably lucky--and likeable. We want him to succeed.
Dogged by jealousy, he has the gift of being noticed and appreciated by the powerful. Pursued and then betrayed by women, he has the uncanny knack of turning misfortune into advantage.
We know from the beginning that Joseph's story will end happily because he has "it."
God's interest insures his ultimate happiness.
Besides charisma, however, Joseph also possesses integrity--the other quality that sets him apart. He is honest. He is loyal. And that uprightness is a clue to why some are Chosen Ones and others are not. God's choices are not arbitrary. He seeks out the potential for righteousness in people. He seeks out people with whom he can work.
Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, and now Joseph clearly have "it"--a quality that is hard to define, but impossible to overlook. None of these people is wholly good. In fact, they are all deeply flawed. They sometimes act despicably and suffer for it. But that does not ultimately matter, because God is able to work with them.
They are open to his grace. They are able to live in relationship with him--to "walk" with him-- to live "the new life." And as we read their stories, we should rejoice because so are we. We are also Chosen Ones. God has taken an interest in us, and his interest insures our ultimate happiness. We are blessed. Thanks be to God!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Day 11 -- Genesis 34-36
Every word of scripture was good news for someone at some point in time. It is hard for us to grasp that, as we slog our way through the genealogies in the Book of Genesis. These passages--chapter 36 of today's reading is an excellent example--do not have much interest for us. But ancient people believed strongly in the power of words, especially names. Simply saying the name of a dead person brought that person momentarily back to life. They remembered, just for the sake of remembering.
It is worth considering that the passages we are now reading in Genesis were transmitted for hundreds of years as oral tradition before they were written down. They were remembered, word for word, and passed down. Whenever those ancestor names were spoken, the people themselves and their stories lived again in the memory of the hearers. That is really quite remarkable when you consider it, and helps us understand why even the tedious bits were"good news."
The people we meet in the Book of Genesis had a rich culture, but it was a culture built upon the spoken rather than the written word. It was not as rich a culture materially as ours is, of course, but it was spiritually rich. These people heard the Lord speak to them. They walked with him. The wrestled with him. They passed on the memory of their experience of God as part of their culture in long lists of ancestors, as well as in the most wonderful stories.
The mores--the ethical norms--of their culture can seem barbarous to us. (Maybe some of ours would seem barbarous to them.) The story of the rape of Dinah and the terrible revenge of her brothers in chapter 34 is a good example of this. There is nothing much for us to admire in that story. It seems heartless and cruel from beginning to end. There is no concern whatsoever expressed for the feeling of Dinah in all this. What did she think--no one cares. Family honor trumps individual happiness.
From the point of view of the story, what matters is purity--a union of the family of Israel with the pagan Canaanites will not do. The overarching concern in these texts is with the survival of the Family of Promise. God is working to separate the house of Israel from its pagan neighbors so that the covenant made with Abraham may continue and the promise be kept.
The Promise always comes first.
Individual tragedies are not as important as the survival of the Family of Promise. With our concern for the individual--for individual rights and happiness--it is hard for us to think our way into a world where the community is always more important than the life of the single man or woman, where the group's best interest always trumps individual happiness. It is a world where the people undertstand that and take that for granted--I am not as important as my family and my people.
That is where we are in the Book of Genesis, in that "communitarian world." If we reserve our judgments and open ourselves to these stories, they will open that new world to us in all its richness and complexity. And the experience will teach us something about living together. . . .
It is worth considering that the passages we are now reading in Genesis were transmitted for hundreds of years as oral tradition before they were written down. They were remembered, word for word, and passed down. Whenever those ancestor names were spoken, the people themselves and their stories lived again in the memory of the hearers. That is really quite remarkable when you consider it, and helps us understand why even the tedious bits were"good news."
The people we meet in the Book of Genesis had a rich culture, but it was a culture built upon the spoken rather than the written word. It was not as rich a culture materially as ours is, of course, but it was spiritually rich. These people heard the Lord speak to them. They walked with him. The wrestled with him. They passed on the memory of their experience of God as part of their culture in long lists of ancestors, as well as in the most wonderful stories.
The mores--the ethical norms--of their culture can seem barbarous to us. (Maybe some of ours would seem barbarous to them.) The story of the rape of Dinah and the terrible revenge of her brothers in chapter 34 is a good example of this. There is nothing much for us to admire in that story. It seems heartless and cruel from beginning to end. There is no concern whatsoever expressed for the feeling of Dinah in all this. What did she think--no one cares. Family honor trumps individual happiness.
From the point of view of the story, what matters is purity--a union of the family of Israel with the pagan Canaanites will not do. The overarching concern in these texts is with the survival of the Family of Promise. God is working to separate the house of Israel from its pagan neighbors so that the covenant made with Abraham may continue and the promise be kept.
The Promise always comes first.
Individual tragedies are not as important as the survival of the Family of Promise. With our concern for the individual--for individual rights and happiness--it is hard for us to think our way into a world where the community is always more important than the life of the single man or woman, where the group's best interest always trumps individual happiness. It is a world where the people undertstand that and take that for granted--I am not as important as my family and my people.
That is where we are in the Book of Genesis, in that "communitarian world." If we reserve our judgments and open ourselves to these stories, they will open that new world to us in all its richness and complexity. And the experience will teach us something about living together. . . .
Monday, June 21, 2010
Day 10 --Genesis 31-33
We take up the saga of Jacob at the point where he is ready to part company with his Uncle Laban. He sneaks away while Laban is away shearing his sheep. When Laban returns home and hears that Jacob and his large household have absconded, Laban pursues them in anger, though God speaks to him in a dream, telling him, "Take heed that you say not a word to Jacob, either good or bad" (31:24). Again the message is this--the Lord is looking after the Chosen One, the Child of Promise.
But unbeknownst to Jacob, Rachel has swiped Laban's household gods. These are family heirlooms as much as they are objects of worship. Whoever possessed these gods had a right to claim sole inheritance of the family property. Laban does not mind letting his daughters go, but he does not want Jacob to be his sole heir. He wants the gods back.
A search is made of Jacob's camp. Rachel hides the gods in the camels' saddle, sits on it, and proceeds to tells Laban that "the way of women" is upon her. Anyone who touched a woman in menstruation was considered ritually unclean. Laban respects the taboo and does not make too close a search. The gods are not found. Of course, Rachel, being in "the way of women" and sitting on them like that, has made these pagan gods themselves bloody and unclean. That's the point that would not have been lost on this story's ancient hearers--pagan idols are dirty. The humor of situation is lost on us, but they would have considered this a funny story and laughed at Laban who is fooled by his clever daughter and his goofy gods, which are defiled in the process.
The story of Jacob wrestling with the angel at the ford of the Jabbok is one of the great moments in Genesis. Having sent everyone and everything ahead of him, "Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak" (32:24). This "man" is none other than God himself, of course. Jacob holds on for dear life.
Even when he is lamed in the fight, he will not let go. He doesn't exactly win the contest--he just refuses to lose, and his tenacity wins him a new name--Israel--"the one with whom God strives."
And you and I and all who live by faith are children of Israel--men and women who strive with God. The nature of God and our own nature are opposed to each other. There is always tension, a give and take, a tug of war going on. We cannot win it. But living in that relationship--living by faith--we cannot let go either. God and human beings are bound to each other in a love-hate relationship. We cannot live without Him, and he, for some strange reason, has decided he cannot live without us. He was even prepared to send his Son--Himself--to die for us. No one understands that mystery, but we spend our lives pondering it in awe.
But unbeknownst to Jacob, Rachel has swiped Laban's household gods. These are family heirlooms as much as they are objects of worship. Whoever possessed these gods had a right to claim sole inheritance of the family property. Laban does not mind letting his daughters go, but he does not want Jacob to be his sole heir. He wants the gods back.
A search is made of Jacob's camp. Rachel hides the gods in the camels' saddle, sits on it, and proceeds to tells Laban that "the way of women" is upon her. Anyone who touched a woman in menstruation was considered ritually unclean. Laban respects the taboo and does not make too close a search. The gods are not found. Of course, Rachel, being in "the way of women" and sitting on them like that, has made these pagan gods themselves bloody and unclean. That's the point that would not have been lost on this story's ancient hearers--pagan idols are dirty. The humor of situation is lost on us, but they would have considered this a funny story and laughed at Laban who is fooled by his clever daughter and his goofy gods, which are defiled in the process.
The story of Jacob wrestling with the angel at the ford of the Jabbok is one of the great moments in Genesis. Having sent everyone and everything ahead of him, "Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak" (32:24). This "man" is none other than God himself, of course. Jacob holds on for dear life.
Even when he is lamed in the fight, he will not let go. He doesn't exactly win the contest--he just refuses to lose, and his tenacity wins him a new name--Israel--"the one with whom God strives."
And you and I and all who live by faith are children of Israel--men and women who strive with God. The nature of God and our own nature are opposed to each other. There is always tension, a give and take, a tug of war going on. We cannot win it. But living in that relationship--living by faith--we cannot let go either. God and human beings are bound to each other in a love-hate relationship. We cannot live without Him, and he, for some strange reason, has decided he cannot live without us. He was even prepared to send his Son--Himself--to die for us. No one understands that mystery, but we spend our lives pondering it in awe.
Day 9 -- Genesis 29-30
Human nature is a constant--it does not change. We recognize in these Bible stories the very same human needs and joys and fears we also experience.
But these ancient stories about the forefathers and foremothers of Israel do reveal that, although human nature does not change, family structures and cultural mores do.
Polygamy and concubinage, for instance, were practiced in Judaism throughout the Biblical period--although they had become markedly less common by the New Testament period.
There is much that is strange in these stories. The reference to mandrakes in 30:14-16 is an example. Mandrakes are roots highly prized by the ancients as aphrodisiacs, and therefore a valuable weapon in the "baby war" going on between Leah and Rachel. In that war, no holds are barred. Jacob's love is both the prize and also a means to be exploited in the power struggle between the two sisters.
A power struggle is going on between Jacob and Laban as well. Each men uses craftiness on the other. We would call it cheating. But deceit is simply a part of a game, the rules of which we do not always understand. They belong to a culture from which we are separated by a vast gulf of time.
But the point of these stories is very clear. The Lord is at work in all this human confusion, keeping his covenant with Abraham, which he renews with Isaac, and now with Jacob. God's favor is demonstrated in the fertility of Jacob's cattle as it is in the fertility of Jacob's wives.
Jacob is the chosen one. All that he touches is filled with life. As he says to Laban--"You yourself know how I have served you, and how your cattle have fared with me. For you had little before I came, and it has increased abundantly; and the Lord has blessed you wherever I turned" (30:29-30). There is a sort of magic in this man, because God is working through him.
And God is at work in our lives as well, working undercover--through both strange and very ordinary means. God's will at work in our lives does not exclude anguish, failure, and tension from marriages and families. But in looking backward at our lives, as the
the writer of Genesis looks backward upon the struggles and triumphs of Israel's first family, we can say--Aha! so that's what was going on. So, in the midst of all that confusion, that was what God was up to after all.
But these ancient stories about the forefathers and foremothers of Israel do reveal that, although human nature does not change, family structures and cultural mores do.
Polygamy and concubinage, for instance, were practiced in Judaism throughout the Biblical period--although they had become markedly less common by the New Testament period.
There is much that is strange in these stories. The reference to mandrakes in 30:14-16 is an example. Mandrakes are roots highly prized by the ancients as aphrodisiacs, and therefore a valuable weapon in the "baby war" going on between Leah and Rachel. In that war, no holds are barred. Jacob's love is both the prize and also a means to be exploited in the power struggle between the two sisters.
A power struggle is going on between Jacob and Laban as well. Each men uses craftiness on the other. We would call it cheating. But deceit is simply a part of a game, the rules of which we do not always understand. They belong to a culture from which we are separated by a vast gulf of time.
But the point of these stories is very clear. The Lord is at work in all this human confusion, keeping his covenant with Abraham, which he renews with Isaac, and now with Jacob. God's favor is demonstrated in the fertility of Jacob's cattle as it is in the fertility of Jacob's wives.
Jacob is the chosen one. All that he touches is filled with life. As he says to Laban--"You yourself know how I have served you, and how your cattle have fared with me. For you had little before I came, and it has increased abundantly; and the Lord has blessed you wherever I turned" (30:29-30). There is a sort of magic in this man, because God is working through him.
And God is at work in our lives as well, working undercover--through both strange and very ordinary means. God's will at work in our lives does not exclude anguish, failure, and tension from marriages and families. But in looking backward at our lives, as the
the writer of Genesis looks backward upon the struggles and triumphs of Israel's first family, we can say--Aha! so that's what was going on. So, in the midst of all that confusion, that was what God was up to after all.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day 8 -- Genesis 26-28
In our reading for today it says that "taking one of the stones of the place, [Jacob] put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it" (Genesis 28:12-13).
Jacob had made his own bed, and it was a hard one. With the help of his mother Rebekah, he had cheated his brother Esau of the birthright and the blessing to which, as the older brother, Esau was entitled. The Bible writer does not strongly disapprove of all this. Cleverness in the service of self-interest is seen in these early stories as a virtue. We would call it deceit. But clearly the hand of God is in all this family plotting and sharp dealing.
Actions, both good and bad, have consequences. Because of his tricks, Jacob, the mama's boy, is forced to run away from home. Alone and forsaken in a "certain place," he is overtaken my night, and lying down on the hard ground, he falls into a fitful sleep.
People in Bible times set great store by dreams--much more than we do. They looked for dreams and visions at the turning points of their lives, pondered them, and allowed them to guide their lives. Here Jacob dreams he sees a ladder or a stairway connecting earth and heaven. He sees the messengers of God ascending and descending upon it, going about the Lord's business. God is concerned in this matters of this world. He is active in our history and in our lives, working out his plans, with us or in spite of us.
To Jacob, in that moment of abandonment and isolation, the dream of the ladder spoke a word of assurance and comfort. The text says that "the Lord stood beside him, and said, 'I am the Lord, the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and your offspring. . ."(28:13). I will not forsake you, God tells Jacob. I am connected to you by my promise, a promise which I cannot break. I am with you. I am committed.
God is eternally invested in humankind--that it the cheering news that runs through all of scripture. Jacob was given comfort and hope by his dream. But the depth of God's commitment, the size of his investment was yet to be revealed.
In the cross of Jesus Christ we have a ladder, like Jacob's, set up upon the earth, that reaches heaven. It a ladder intended for us, not for the angels. The rungs of that ladder are the human situations, the joys and sorrows, through which we live. Some rungs are hot as fire, some cold as ice. Some rungs are easy, others much wider and harder to climb. I don't know where you are on that ladder, but where ever you are, the Lord is with you. The climb might be perilous, especially toward to end, and there may be moments of reeling fear toward the top. But the promise is binding and certain--hold on and you will not fall.
Jacob had made his own bed, and it was a hard one. With the help of his mother Rebekah, he had cheated his brother Esau of the birthright and the blessing to which, as the older brother, Esau was entitled. The Bible writer does not strongly disapprove of all this. Cleverness in the service of self-interest is seen in these early stories as a virtue. We would call it deceit. But clearly the hand of God is in all this family plotting and sharp dealing.
Actions, both good and bad, have consequences. Because of his tricks, Jacob, the mama's boy, is forced to run away from home. Alone and forsaken in a "certain place," he is overtaken my night, and lying down on the hard ground, he falls into a fitful sleep.
People in Bible times set great store by dreams--much more than we do. They looked for dreams and visions at the turning points of their lives, pondered them, and allowed them to guide their lives. Here Jacob dreams he sees a ladder or a stairway connecting earth and heaven. He sees the messengers of God ascending and descending upon it, going about the Lord's business. God is concerned in this matters of this world. He is active in our history and in our lives, working out his plans, with us or in spite of us.
To Jacob, in that moment of abandonment and isolation, the dream of the ladder spoke a word of assurance and comfort. The text says that "the Lord stood beside him, and said, 'I am the Lord, the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and your offspring. . ."(28:13). I will not forsake you, God tells Jacob. I am connected to you by my promise, a promise which I cannot break. I am with you. I am committed.
God is eternally invested in humankind--that it the cheering news that runs through all of scripture. Jacob was given comfort and hope by his dream. But the depth of God's commitment, the size of his investment was yet to be revealed.
In the cross of Jesus Christ we have a ladder, like Jacob's, set up upon the earth, that reaches heaven. It a ladder intended for us, not for the angels. The rungs of that ladder are the human situations, the joys and sorrows, through which we live. Some rungs are hot as fire, some cold as ice. Some rungs are easy, others much wider and harder to climb. I don't know where you are on that ladder, but where ever you are, the Lord is with you. The climb might be perilous, especially toward to end, and there may be moments of reeling fear toward the top. But the promise is binding and certain--hold on and you will not fall.
Day 7 -- Genesis 24-25
In our reading for today Abraham says to his servant--"See that you do not take my son back there. The Lord, the God of heaven, who took me from my father's house and from the land of my birth and who spoke to me and swore to me. 'To your offspring I will give this land,' he will send his angel before you, and you shall take a wife for my son from there" (Genesis 24:6-7).
It probably would not occur to most of us to leave the choice of our child's spouse to the Holy Spirit, although I'm not sure why not. The lovely story of Rebekah at the well illustrates how the Lord will take care of the most practical matters of our lives, if we entrust them to Him.
Rebekah sounds like the perfect choice, doesn't she? Not only was she easy on the eyes, she was also a hard worker--the role of women in Bible times left very little opportunity for laziness. But the point of the story is that she was the absolutely right choice. God's choice. If Isaac had chosen, it might have been a mistake. But Abraham put the matter in the Lord's hands, the servant did exactly as he was told, and the result was a perfect one. Even Isaac approved. It says that Isaac "took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her. So Isaac was comforted after his mother's death" (24:67).
The reason our lives are often such a muddle, beloved, is that we do not put our practical choices into the hands of the Lord. We try to handle things ourselves, and as often than not, we mishandle them--disastrously. It is one of the themes that runs through these great stories in Genesis. When God is in control, things go marvelously well. When people try to run their own lives--remember the story of how Sarah took things into her own hands and offered her maid, Hagar, to Abraham--things get complicated and murky.
God has a plan, and our independent actions always get in the way of that plan. God has a way of working around our bad choices to do his will, but the by-product of our stubborn self-direction is pain.
But it is as true now as it was in the time Abraham, that the Lord is the Remover of Obstacles. And when we put our decisions in his hands--when we let Him direct our sails, he always brings us safely to the harbor we were bound for.
It probably would not occur to most of us to leave the choice of our child's spouse to the Holy Spirit, although I'm not sure why not. The lovely story of Rebekah at the well illustrates how the Lord will take care of the most practical matters of our lives, if we entrust them to Him.
Rebekah sounds like the perfect choice, doesn't she? Not only was she easy on the eyes, she was also a hard worker--the role of women in Bible times left very little opportunity for laziness. But the point of the story is that she was the absolutely right choice. God's choice. If Isaac had chosen, it might have been a mistake. But Abraham put the matter in the Lord's hands, the servant did exactly as he was told, and the result was a perfect one. Even Isaac approved. It says that Isaac "took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her. So Isaac was comforted after his mother's death" (24:67).
The reason our lives are often such a muddle, beloved, is that we do not put our practical choices into the hands of the Lord. We try to handle things ourselves, and as often than not, we mishandle them--disastrously. It is one of the themes that runs through these great stories in Genesis. When God is in control, things go marvelously well. When people try to run their own lives--remember the story of how Sarah took things into her own hands and offered her maid, Hagar, to Abraham--things get complicated and murky.
God has a plan, and our independent actions always get in the way of that plan. God has a way of working around our bad choices to do his will, but the by-product of our stubborn self-direction is pain.
But it is as true now as it was in the time Abraham, that the Lord is the Remover of Obstacles. And when we put our decisions in his hands--when we let Him direct our sails, he always brings us safely to the harbor we were bound for.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Day 6 -- Genesis 20-23
In our reading it says that "God tested Abraham. He said to him, 'Abraham!' And he said, 'Here I am.' He said, 'Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you'" (Genesis 22:1-2).
This is an awful story. There is no way around it. If we are not shocked by it, then there is something seriously wrong with us. But awful as it is, the sacrifice of Isaac is still the most profound story about the meaning of faith to be found in all the scriptures.
Humanly speaking, this is as good as we humans get.
Child sacrifice was not uncommon in the ancient world; it would have been a practice well known to Abraham. In his time it was the sort of thing gods expected of people. But it was forbidden in the worship of Israel's God, and on one level this story is intended to explain why. The sacrifice of an animal substituted for the death of a human being, created in the image of God.
"Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son."
Whew! That was close! In the end God lets Abraham off the hook.
But Isaac's deliverance does not invalidate Abraham's interior suffering. Abraham's faith is rewarded, but nothing can make up for the agony he goes through on the way.
But then, the final analysis, faith has nothing to do with rewards. That's the deep meaning of this story.
In the scriptures faith, like the faith of Abraham, is the highest form of human life can take. Faith is not civilization. It is not even what most people think of as morality. It is absolute obedience to the only One worthy of that obedience. It is absurd trust--trust without meaning--obedience without limits.
You and I are never going to asked to tested like this--which is good, because we wouldn't pass a test. This kind of odedience is beyond us
So what is the use of telling a story like this? What good is it.
It is there for us to see what real faith in God is like. It is there for us to think about when we feel put upon by the demands of faith. It is there for us to consider when we are tempted to grouse and complain about our own little tests. Then we can look the story of the sacrifice of Isaac and say--This is what real faith in God is like. He hasn't asked anything of me by comparison. Thank God! He has let us all off the hook.
So consider this--God hasn't asked anything of human beings, not even of Abraham, the He Himself was not willing to undertake. So in the end we look past Mount Moriah and to see Golgotha where the cross of Jesus Christ is planted. There the sacrifice went forward and no one let God off the hook. Consider that.
So what is the use of telling a story like this?
This is an awful story. There is no way around it. If we are not shocked by it, then there is something seriously wrong with us. But awful as it is, the sacrifice of Isaac is still the most profound story about the meaning of faith to be found in all the scriptures.
Humanly speaking, this is as good as we humans get.
Child sacrifice was not uncommon in the ancient world; it would have been a practice well known to Abraham. In his time it was the sort of thing gods expected of people. But it was forbidden in the worship of Israel's God, and on one level this story is intended to explain why. The sacrifice of an animal substituted for the death of a human being, created in the image of God.
"Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son."
Whew! That was close! In the end God lets Abraham off the hook.
But Isaac's deliverance does not invalidate Abraham's interior suffering. Abraham's faith is rewarded, but nothing can make up for the agony he goes through on the way.
But then, the final analysis, faith has nothing to do with rewards. That's the deep meaning of this story.
In the scriptures faith, like the faith of Abraham, is the highest form of human life can take. Faith is not civilization. It is not even what most people think of as morality. It is absolute obedience to the only One worthy of that obedience. It is absurd trust--trust without meaning--obedience without limits.
You and I are never going to asked to tested like this--which is good, because we wouldn't pass a test. This kind of odedience is beyond us
So what is the use of telling a story like this? What good is it.
It is there for us to see what real faith in God is like. It is there for us to think about when we feel put upon by the demands of faith. It is there for us to consider when we are tempted to grouse and complain about our own little tests. Then we can look the story of the sacrifice of Isaac and say--This is what real faith in God is like. He hasn't asked anything of me by comparison. Thank God! He has let us all off the hook.
So consider this--God hasn't asked anything of human beings, not even of Abraham, the He Himself was not willing to undertake. So in the end we look past Mount Moriah and to see Golgotha where the cross of Jesus Christ is planted. There the sacrifice went forward and no one let God off the hook. Consider that.
So what is the use of telling a story like this?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day 5 -- Genesis 17-19
In our reading for today the Lord asks Abraham --"Why did Sarah laugh and say, 'Shall I indeed bear a child now that I am old?' Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son" (Genesis 18:13-14).
Why did Sarah laugh?
If she had known what she was in for as an elderly parent, her laughter would have been more of a nervous titter than the big horse laugh she undoubtedly gave. She did laugh, nevertheless, though she denied it later (verse 15). The story of the birth of Isaac, the child of the promise, is in fact surrounded with laughter. Abraham laughed when he heard the promise (17:17). It was just so unlikely, under the circumstances. He was "as good as dead, " as St. Paul puts it, and he knew it. Sarah laughed at the very idea--it was so preposterous--she was long past "the change." In a somber and disappointing world, how could such a happy ending happen?
Our Bible reading for today includes some very somber material. We see Abraham bartering with God for the survival of Sodom and Gomorrah in what is surely one of the most impressive passages in all of scripture. He fails, of course, and we witness the destruction of the cities of the plain. We hear of the vicious sexuality of the men of Sodom and the incest of Lot's daughters.
But all the while there is laughter behind the curtain. Life is a comedy and not a tragedy--that is the gospel. The essence of the new life is laughter.
Life presents us with many hard questions, but the only question that matters is the rhetorical one--"Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?"
God's grace is too good to be true, and it comes in funny ways. The life of every believer, frankly considered, is a joke. Laughter is the only right response.
When God made a promise to give them the Child of Laughter--the name "Isaac" means "laughter"--Abraham and Sarah--Mr. and Mrs. Great--both doubted it. They wanted to believe it. The grace of God working in us always wants to believe the impossible. And they cooperated, as far as was humanly possible. (They say the babies are made in heaven, but we know better.) All we any of us can do is what is in us--and wait for the suprise.
But we need to remember--don't sell life short. To believe in God is to leave room for the impossible to happen. We need to say with the Virgin Mary--"Let it be with me according to your word"--and then expect to burst out laughing at what can happen.
The universe is filled with laughter--the truth is just so unexpected and so beautiful.
Why did Sarah laugh?
If she had known what she was in for as an elderly parent, her laughter would have been more of a nervous titter than the big horse laugh she undoubtedly gave. She did laugh, nevertheless, though she denied it later (verse 15). The story of the birth of Isaac, the child of the promise, is in fact surrounded with laughter. Abraham laughed when he heard the promise (17:17). It was just so unlikely, under the circumstances. He was "as good as dead, " as St. Paul puts it, and he knew it. Sarah laughed at the very idea--it was so preposterous--she was long past "the change." In a somber and disappointing world, how could such a happy ending happen?
Our Bible reading for today includes some very somber material. We see Abraham bartering with God for the survival of Sodom and Gomorrah in what is surely one of the most impressive passages in all of scripture. He fails, of course, and we witness the destruction of the cities of the plain. We hear of the vicious sexuality of the men of Sodom and the incest of Lot's daughters.
But all the while there is laughter behind the curtain. Life is a comedy and not a tragedy--that is the gospel. The essence of the new life is laughter.
Life presents us with many hard questions, but the only question that matters is the rhetorical one--"Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?"
God's grace is too good to be true, and it comes in funny ways. The life of every believer, frankly considered, is a joke. Laughter is the only right response.
When God made a promise to give them the Child of Laughter--the name "Isaac" means "laughter"--Abraham and Sarah--Mr. and Mrs. Great--both doubted it. They wanted to believe it. The grace of God working in us always wants to believe the impossible. And they cooperated, as far as was humanly possible. (They say the babies are made in heaven, but we know better.) All we any of us can do is what is in us--and wait for the suprise.
But we need to remember--don't sell life short. To believe in God is to leave room for the impossible to happen. We need to say with the Virgin Mary--"Let it be with me according to your word"--and then expect to burst out laughing at what can happen.
The universe is filled with laughter--the truth is just so unexpected and so beautiful.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Day 4 -- Genesis 12-16
You never hear God say "please." When the Lord called Abram, he just says, "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing" (12:1-2).
It is both a command of obedience and the promise of a new life.
We don't know exactly how God spoke to Abram to give him that promise--"I will make your name Great"--we can assume it was as an inner voice. But however the call came, Abram recognized the voice as God's, and obeyed the call--"So Abram went, as the Lord had told him" (12:4).
He might not have gone, of course, but he did, and his obedience opened for him and for his wife Sarai--Mr. and Mrs. Great--a new life.
Were Mr. and Mrs Great worthy of the new life God offered them? They were certainly not perfect--not by any means. In Egypt, we are told that Abram prostituted his wife to Pharoah (12:10-17) to save himself. Abram certainly followed the cultural imperative of his time and spread his seed as widely as possible. When she herself could not conceive, Sarai offered him her maid, Hagar, as a concubine. Abram did not hesitate. Then when Hagar became pregnant, Sarai acted like a real bitch--sorry, but there is no other English word that quite captures the meaning here. She ran Hagar off into the desert to die. And Abram let her. Mr. and Mrs. Great could be a lot less than good.
Called to the new life, Abram and Sarai brought along with them all their old baggage. So were they worthy of their calling? Well, it really isn't a fair question for us to ask. We aren't worthy either, but God is always offering us a new life nevertheless.
Even in our sinfulness, faith opens the door to live that new life. Faith is trust in God's promises. It is a willingness to hope for what seems impossible, and to go on trying when common sense says--Give up. Faith is a willingness to conceive the inconceivable.
That's what it takes to live the new life--not conventional goodness. And that's what Mr. and Mrs. Great had--and that's what made them great--faith--not moral goodness.
Chapter 15, verse 6 tells us that Abram--despite all evidence to the contrary--"believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to them as righteousness" (15:6).
Righteousness is that willingness to trust God and go on "by stages" (12:9) to live our lives in trust the way Abram and Sarai did. And to those that the Lord reckons as righteous the he offers what he gave Abram and Sarai--a new life of fruitfulness, of adventure, and, at the end, of peace (15:15). And what more could anyone ask.
Willian Sloan Coffin said-- "Old age is dying young as late as possible."
It is both a command of obedience and the promise of a new life.
We don't know exactly how God spoke to Abram to give him that promise--"I will make your name Great"--we can assume it was as an inner voice. But however the call came, Abram recognized the voice as God's, and obeyed the call--"So Abram went, as the Lord had told him" (12:4).
He might not have gone, of course, but he did, and his obedience opened for him and for his wife Sarai--Mr. and Mrs. Great--a new life.
Were Mr. and Mrs Great worthy of the new life God offered them? They were certainly not perfect--not by any means. In Egypt, we are told that Abram prostituted his wife to Pharoah (12:10-17) to save himself. Abram certainly followed the cultural imperative of his time and spread his seed as widely as possible. When she herself could not conceive, Sarai offered him her maid, Hagar, as a concubine. Abram did not hesitate. Then when Hagar became pregnant, Sarai acted like a real bitch--sorry, but there is no other English word that quite captures the meaning here. She ran Hagar off into the desert to die. And Abram let her. Mr. and Mrs. Great could be a lot less than good.
Called to the new life, Abram and Sarai brought along with them all their old baggage. So were they worthy of their calling? Well, it really isn't a fair question for us to ask. We aren't worthy either, but God is always offering us a new life nevertheless.
Even in our sinfulness, faith opens the door to live that new life. Faith is trust in God's promises. It is a willingness to hope for what seems impossible, and to go on trying when common sense says--Give up. Faith is a willingness to conceive the inconceivable.
That's what it takes to live the new life--not conventional goodness. And that's what Mr. and Mrs. Great had--and that's what made them great--faith--not moral goodness.
Chapter 15, verse 6 tells us that Abram--despite all evidence to the contrary--"believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to them as righteousness" (15:6).
Righteousness is that willingness to trust God and go on "by stages" (12:9) to live our lives in trust the way Abram and Sarai did. And to those that the Lord reckons as righteous the he offers what he gave Abram and Sarai--a new life of fruitfulness, of adventure, and, at the end, of peace (15:15). And what more could anyone ask.
Willian Sloan Coffin said-- "Old age is dying young as late as possible."
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 3 --Genesis 8-11
A note about Bible time--The Bible is concerned only with human time, measured in years and lifetimes. The vast eons before the creation of human beings and their establishment in the garden are condensed into a week of six days. Bible time is human time, measured by human experience--being conceived, born, and dying. But the story of Creation in Bible does not contradict, to mind at least, the truth that the universe is thousands of millions of years old.
In one of the comments you mentioned a little boy named Xavier who loves dinosaurs and asks a lot of questions. It reminded me of what it was like to be a boy who loved dinosaurs and asked a lot of questions. Back on the ranch in western North Dakota, where I grew up, I gathered an impressive collection of fossils, of which I was very proud. One day I showed my collection to my great-uncle Dwight, who was a fundamentalist Christian. He refused to even touch them because, as he told me, the devil had created them in order to lead foolish people into unbelief.
His words made me very angry, even at the age of ten, because I knew better. I could tell he was afraid of the truth, that was why he said my fossil collection was the work of the devil. I knew, even then, that the devil cannot create anything. Only God could be responsible for something as wonderful as a dinosaur.
Creation in time--evolution--and the existence of wonderful species that lived in worlds that have vanished and are found only the fossil record only demonstates how wonderful is the God we worship. He reveals himself in the stones as well as in the words of Scripture.
He is a God who creates things just for the fun of it--like a little boy. He is a God who loves dinosaurs. The Book of Psalms gives praise to the God who made the sea "great and wide," filled with "creeping thing innumerable," with "living things both small and great," including "Leviathan," which the Lord "made for the sport of it."
Leviathan could be a blue whale, of course, but it might also be a dinosaur. It doesn't matter.
Consider this--There is only one truth, and where ever we find it--in the Scriptures or in stones--that truth leads us to God.
In our reading for today God says to Noah: "When I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh" (9:14-15). To the whole living world--to every living creature--God gives a promise. He says--Whatever self-destructive things you do to yourselves, I will not destroy you. I will remember my promise. I will work for life even when you are intent on death.
And the rainbow, the spectrum spread out across te damp sky, is the visible sign of the promise and of God's faithfulness. After that last terrible deluge, the catastrophe that wiped the earth clean, God made a promise not to let the elements swallow up the earth again. God made a promise to forgive and not to destroy.
But will he keep it? that what we wonder. Will he let nature overwhelm us? Will we be destroyed? The rainbow says no, but still we wonder. . . .
We make promises and we break them. We make vows and then we cancel them. That's just human--that unfaithfulness. But God is not like us in this.
God is like us in many ways. He is angry. He has pity. He changes his mind. But he cannot break his promises. When he says is will do something, he cannot go back on the promise. He is constrained by his very nature to keep the covenants he makes. His faithfulness is perfect--that is the constant witness of the Bible. And that constant faithfulness is the foundation upon which we can build our lives.
All-powerful, he is also helpless.
Even when we have broken our promises to Him and to each other, God is ready to help us put our broken families and our fractured marriages back together again. He is ready to help us clean up our soiled earth. He is commited. He must come through. He cannot help it.
In one of the comments you mentioned a little boy named Xavier who loves dinosaurs and asks a lot of questions. It reminded me of what it was like to be a boy who loved dinosaurs and asked a lot of questions. Back on the ranch in western North Dakota, where I grew up, I gathered an impressive collection of fossils, of which I was very proud. One day I showed my collection to my great-uncle Dwight, who was a fundamentalist Christian. He refused to even touch them because, as he told me, the devil had created them in order to lead foolish people into unbelief.
His words made me very angry, even at the age of ten, because I knew better. I could tell he was afraid of the truth, that was why he said my fossil collection was the work of the devil. I knew, even then, that the devil cannot create anything. Only God could be responsible for something as wonderful as a dinosaur.
Creation in time--evolution--and the existence of wonderful species that lived in worlds that have vanished and are found only the fossil record only demonstates how wonderful is the God we worship. He reveals himself in the stones as well as in the words of Scripture.
He is a God who creates things just for the fun of it--like a little boy. He is a God who loves dinosaurs. The Book of Psalms gives praise to the God who made the sea "great and wide," filled with "creeping thing innumerable," with "living things both small and great," including "Leviathan," which the Lord "made for the sport of it."
Leviathan could be a blue whale, of course, but it might also be a dinosaur. It doesn't matter.
Consider this--There is only one truth, and where ever we find it--in the Scriptures or in stones--that truth leads us to God.
In our reading for today God says to Noah: "When I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh" (9:14-15). To the whole living world--to every living creature--God gives a promise. He says--Whatever self-destructive things you do to yourselves, I will not destroy you. I will remember my promise. I will work for life even when you are intent on death.
And the rainbow, the spectrum spread out across te damp sky, is the visible sign of the promise and of God's faithfulness. After that last terrible deluge, the catastrophe that wiped the earth clean, God made a promise not to let the elements swallow up the earth again. God made a promise to forgive and not to destroy.
But will he keep it? that what we wonder. Will he let nature overwhelm us? Will we be destroyed? The rainbow says no, but still we wonder. . . .
We make promises and we break them. We make vows and then we cancel them. That's just human--that unfaithfulness. But God is not like us in this.
God is like us in many ways. He is angry. He has pity. He changes his mind. But he cannot break his promises. When he says is will do something, he cannot go back on the promise. He is constrained by his very nature to keep the covenants he makes. His faithfulness is perfect--that is the constant witness of the Bible. And that constant faithfulness is the foundation upon which we can build our lives.
All-powerful, he is also helpless.
Even when we have broken our promises to Him and to each other, God is ready to help us put our broken families and our fractured marriages back together again. He is ready to help us clean up our soiled earth. He is commited. He must come through. He cannot help it.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Day 2 -- Genesis 4-7
"Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation. Noah walked with God" (Genesis 6:9b).
After the first disobedience, things went immediately downhill. People swiftly become "more beastly than the beasts." The tragedy of Cain and Abel demonstrates how fallen men and women are now capable of the most monstrous acts of violence and moral irresponsibility. The words of Cain--"Am I my brother's keeper"(4:9)--echo through the sad history of human inhumanity.
Nevertheless--and this is the great nevertheless--inhuman depravity creates a background for human righteousness. Look at these words that God speaks to Cain--"Sin is [indeed] lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it" (4:7).
Sin is always an option for us. It lies in wait for us at every moment of decision. Nevertheless by grace, we can master it. God offers us that moral option--the choice to be righteous. Not perfect. Nothing that we do is ever perfect. But righteous.
God gives fallen us the ability to master our overpowering human tendency to be more beastly than the beasts. And some few people took advantage of that option.
The text says that Enoch made use of that ability to be righteous--he "walked with God" (5:23) and received some sort of special reward. God short-circuited death and "took him," the text says.
Noah also "walked with God" (6:9), and saved his family and the rest of creation from utter destruction. He became the first moral hero. He was raised above the scum by obedience. When God revealed the plan to build the ark and save creation by creating a sort of zoo--and it must have seemed a crazy one--the text says--"Noah did this; he did all that God commanded him" (6:22).
Consider this--Obedience to the command of God is what lifts you and me out of the mire and makes us truly human. It lifts us up, and it pulls our families up with us. The ability to be obedient to God is grace. Grace separates us from the crowd and gives us permission to walk with God--to live in personal relationship with Him--which is what being truly human life is all about.
Remember, in human terms righteousness is always a lonely thing--it connects us to God, but it always separates us from the rest of the world. Yet apart from the righteousness of a few, the world would perish--that is message of the story of Noah.
(A note to daily Bible readers--check http://www.jrsbible.info/bible.htm to find the Bible online in about 25 English versions, plus many other languages.)
After the first disobedience, things went immediately downhill. People swiftly become "more beastly than the beasts." The tragedy of Cain and Abel demonstrates how fallen men and women are now capable of the most monstrous acts of violence and moral irresponsibility. The words of Cain--"Am I my brother's keeper"(4:9)--echo through the sad history of human inhumanity.
Nevertheless--and this is the great nevertheless--inhuman depravity creates a background for human righteousness. Look at these words that God speaks to Cain--"Sin is [indeed] lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it" (4:7).
Sin is always an option for us. It lies in wait for us at every moment of decision. Nevertheless by grace, we can master it. God offers us that moral option--the choice to be righteous. Not perfect. Nothing that we do is ever perfect. But righteous.
God gives fallen us the ability to master our overpowering human tendency to be more beastly than the beasts. And some few people took advantage of that option.
The text says that Enoch made use of that ability to be righteous--he "walked with God" (5:23) and received some sort of special reward. God short-circuited death and "took him," the text says.
Noah also "walked with God" (6:9), and saved his family and the rest of creation from utter destruction. He became the first moral hero. He was raised above the scum by obedience. When God revealed the plan to build the ark and save creation by creating a sort of zoo--and it must have seemed a crazy one--the text says--"Noah did this; he did all that God commanded him" (6:22).
Consider this--Obedience to the command of God is what lifts you and me out of the mire and makes us truly human. It lifts us up, and it pulls our families up with us. The ability to be obedient to God is grace. Grace separates us from the crowd and gives us permission to walk with God--to live in personal relationship with Him--which is what being truly human life is all about.
Remember, in human terms righteousness is always a lonely thing--it connects us to God, but it always separates us from the rest of the world. Yet apart from the righteousness of a few, the world would perish--that is message of the story of Noah.
(A note to daily Bible readers--check http://www.jrsbible.info/bible.htm to find the Bible online in about 25 English versions, plus many other languages.)
Friday, June 11, 2010
Day 1 - Genesis 1-3
God said--"Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it."
Consider this--
I once overhead my father, who was a farmer, asking--"What are thistles for?"
Good question!
Thistles stand for all the things that stand in the way of obeying God's command to fill the earth and subdue it. There are thistles in every field and stones in every garden. There is the spirit of rebellion in every child. Every job has an element of tedium and frustration built into it.
So what are thistles for?
Simply put--Thistles are there to pull. There are many obstacles in the world that have been placed here solely for us to overcome them.
The scriptures say that God let thistles grow in the garden of the world as a punishment for sin. But punishment is not the only reason we have to work. Work is a blessing that gives meaning and form to our otherwise empty lives.
Striving makes having precious.
In overcoming obstacles and in sometimes failing to overcome them we discover what it means to be human.
In filling and subduing the world we discover in ourselves the image of God. And in failing to overcome our obstacles--in falling on our faces in he dust--we recognize ourselves as His creatures--like but immeasurably less than God.
The work of creation is hard. The Bible tells us that it wearied God himself. It demanded suffering even for God to create. And in order to make of new world out of the mess we made of His creation God had to send his own Son to suffer and die.
The work of creation always leads us to the cross. The Cross of Jesus Christ says that to be made in the image of God means to make, to love, and to suffer, as God himself makes, loves and suffers with the world. And the Resurrection of Christ promises that in our working, in our overcoming, and in our failing to overcome, you and I become fully one with Him.
Consider this--
I once overhead my father, who was a farmer, asking--"What are thistles for?"
Good question!
Thistles stand for all the things that stand in the way of obeying God's command to fill the earth and subdue it. There are thistles in every field and stones in every garden. There is the spirit of rebellion in every child. Every job has an element of tedium and frustration built into it.
So what are thistles for?
Simply put--Thistles are there to pull. There are many obstacles in the world that have been placed here solely for us to overcome them.
The scriptures say that God let thistles grow in the garden of the world as a punishment for sin. But punishment is not the only reason we have to work. Work is a blessing that gives meaning and form to our otherwise empty lives.
Striving makes having precious.
In overcoming obstacles and in sometimes failing to overcome them we discover what it means to be human.
In filling and subduing the world we discover in ourselves the image of God. And in failing to overcome our obstacles--in falling on our faces in he dust--we recognize ourselves as His creatures--like but immeasurably less than God.
The work of creation is hard. The Bible tells us that it wearied God himself. It demanded suffering even for God to create. And in order to make of new world out of the mess we made of His creation God had to send his own Son to suffer and die.
The work of creation always leads us to the cross. The Cross of Jesus Christ says that to be made in the image of God means to make, to love, and to suffer, as God himself makes, loves and suffers with the world. And the Resurrection of Christ promises that in our working, in our overcoming, and in our failing to overcome, you and I become fully one with Him.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Week 1
You may start this program at any time you wish. Just begin with Week 1; you will finish at the same time next year that you begin this year.
Sunday: Genesis 1-3
Monday: Genesis 4-7
Tuesday: Genesis 8-11
Wednesday: Genesis 12-16
Thursday: Genesis 17-19
Friday: Genesis 20-23
Saturday: Genesis 24-25.
Sunday: Genesis 1-3
Monday: Genesis 4-7
Tuesday: Genesis 8-11
Wednesday: Genesis 12-16
Thursday: Genesis 17-19
Friday: Genesis 20-23
Saturday: Genesis 24-25.
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