Curb Your Imperial Impulse

MANY OF THE VOICES in this month’s readings seem to have “no filter.” They say what they think without adjusting it for politeness or theological correctness. In so doing, biblical paragons are presented as identifiably human, and God is seen as a God who welcomes our unvarnished truth. Here the raw human emotion acknowledges the complex terrain that is the human heart. The texts assume we feel, hurt, and occasionally want revenge; that we transgress and fear revenge; that we want forgiveness for ourselves but not necessarily for others. We can feel that God had gotten the better of us. Our experiences of God can be frustrating and painful. Like Jeremiah and Jonah here and Hagar (Genesis 16:7-14; 21:15-19) and Hannah (1 Samuel 1:9-11) elsewhere, these texts invite us to tell God about God and take our frustrations to God.

The scriptures call us to interpret them with regard to their ancient contexts and our contemporary ones. Israel/Judah, in any of its configurations, was one of the smallest and least powerful nations in its world. The scriptures were compiled and received their last edit when what was left of Israel was completely subjugated by a foreign power. That is not our contemporary situation as Americans. We may have been conditioned to read from the position of Israel, but we also need to read from the position of empires that subjugate. If God can bear us without filters, surely we can scrutinize our own imperial impulses.

[ September 3 ]

Come See About Us

Jeremiah 15:15-21; Psalm 26:1-8; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

IT'S NATURAL to want those who hurt us to be hurt in return. Jeremiah and Paul take an unflinching look at anger, then present a number of responses. Jeremiah wants God to zap his tormentors (“Bring down retribution for me on my persecutors,” in 15:15). To the Romans, Paul counsels a different kind of prayer: “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them” (12:14). And again, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil ...” (verse 17). And then, “Beloved, never avenge yourselves ... ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay ...’” (verse 19).

For me, Paul’s counsel is aspirational and Jeremiah’s prayer keeps it real. From a theological perspective, God knows our circumstances and our needs. Experientially, it’s helpful to be able to ask God to come see about us. Jeremiah illustrates this, saying, “Holy One, you know” and “remember me and visit me” (15:15). Jeremiah also reflects honestly on his experience of and with God, using language that might shock the pious.

Jeremiah tells God that she is “like a deceitful brook; like waters that fail” (15:18). In other words, God’s waters look smooth, clear, and inviting, but when Jeremiah steps in, he is nearly swept away on purpose by God’s roughness. Jeremiah’s language is strong; the word translated as “deceitful” means “liar.” This is not the first time that Jeremiah has given God a piece of his mind.

Earlier Jeremiah accused God of deceiving her people (4:10). Later, he charges God with enticing—literally seducing—him, and with overpowering him, using a combination of words that often signal sexual assault in the Hebrew Bible (20:7). These examples of extreme rhetoric illustrate Jeremiah’s deep emotional honesty in his prayers with God.

In our own time when extreme rhetoric predominates in traditional and social media spaces, and in political discourse, it may appear unseemly for a venerated prophet to speak to God the way Jeremiah does. But Jeremiah knows God can bear our strongest emotions. We cannot harm that relationship by telling the truth about how we feel.

[ September 10 ]

A Sacred Call

Ezekiel 33:7-11; Psalm 119:33-40; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20

“STAY WOKE!” is a warning cry to keep one’s eyes open to the systems that deal death and dehumanize the living and the dead. The cry emerged from the Black Lives Matter movement and has spread to other protest spaces. Paul’s words “You know what time it is ... it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep” (Romans 13:11) are a biblical forerunner of this rallying cry. For Paul, time was running out. Christ’s return was imminent, but it has not yet happened.

Perhaps now is the moment to wake from dreaming about Jesus coming back—there is nothing we can do to influence, speed, or delay his coming—and wake to those things over which we actually have power: “‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:9b-10). It is such a simple litmus test for our words and deeds, personally and collectively. It should go without saying that hurtful words and actions can’t be explained away as love. Yet there are far too many Christians who use “love” as cover to do or say anything they want to someone else.

The Black Lives Matter movement seeks the preservation and flourishing of black life in the face of public extrajudicial killings—often recorded—of black women, men, and children. That reality that black life is sacred and black life is imperiled yields the prophetic cry: #BlackLivesMatter. Like Ezekiel, many of those who are a part of and allied with this movement have a sacred calling to cry out to and against those who deal death, dehumanize, and demean. Some, like Ezekiel, understand that heeding the prophetic cry is for the benefit of the oppressor and the oppressed alike (Ezekiel 33:8-9).

And for those who opine that some folk get what they have coming to them: Even when God, the impartial judge, deems someone to be wicked, she takes no pleasure in that death (Ezekiel 33:11). The prophetic cry seeks the preservation and flourishing of life as an act of love on behalf of God and the one that cries out for her.

[ September 17 ]

Forgiveness is a Gift

Genesis 50:15-21; Psalm 103:1-13; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35

FORGIVE! It doesn’t really work as a demand. Forgiveness is a gift, to oneself and to the one who offends. Forgiveness is hard; sometimes it is aspirational. In Genesis, the brothers who planned to kill Joseph and instead sold him into slavery now lie and say their father asked Joseph to forgive them (50:15-17). Their lie frames the demand as a request, but a request from beyond the grave placed on a dying man’s lips is hardly a request.

I have noticed increased societal pressure for victims, particularly of heinous crimes, to forgive those who have terrorized them or murdered their dear ones. Alternately, the vigorous affirmation of those who are able to express forgiveness immediately almost seems to shame those who cannot or do not. Notable examples include the families of the members of Mother Emmanuel AME Church murdered by a white supremacist and the families of victims of the Boston Marathon bombers.

Pressure to forgive is even more inappropriate when it comes from the one who inflicted the wound. The most egregious form of this is religious pressure on a person to forgive; that is an additional act of violence. As it happens in the text, Joseph is able to forgive his brothers. He has healed during the years he was apart from his family. Some folk need time to heal; that doesn’t make them less faithful.

Markers of privilege—white, male, heterosexual, cisgender, able-bodied, conforming to dominant-culture beauty standards, class standing—are often used by those who hold them to apply religious and ethical pressure on the people they injure, even pressure to forgive. But, as in the case of Joseph and his brothers, there is no contrition and the consequences of their injury is ignored. The calls by white Christians for racial reconciliation often remind me of the insistence for forgiveness by Joseph’s brothers, without repentance or reparations.

Joseph’s brothers prepare for vengeance, saying, “We are here as your slaves.” They sold him into slavery and can expect no better in return. Forgiveness is a gift.

[ September 24 ]

Jonah’s Sermon

Jonah 3:10-4:11; Psalm 145:1-8; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16

I KNEW IT! I knew you were a God who was merciful and gracious to people I don’t think deserve it—and I am furious with it and you. That’s Jonah in a nutshell (Jonah 4:2). Or rather his sermon. I read the book as a sermon with an over-the-top illustration not to be taken literally. I find Jonah to be an intentionally sulky comic character. The ridiculousness of Jonah highlights the absurdity of the claim that God does not care about the Ninevites or other non-Israelites (though other texts will elevate Israel and demonize the Ninevites, as in the book of Nahum).

Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, responsible for the decimation of Israel and destruction of the Northern Monarchy. The barbarity of the Assyrians included skinning people and carving out hunks of flesh while they were alive. Asserting God cares for Ninevites (even livestock, according to Jonah 4:11) would have been a radical proclamation. It remains so for many in our time. Jonah’s geographical context—today’s Iraq and Syria—identifies peoples for whom many have felt enmity in recent years. They are also recipients of God’s love, care, grace, and mercy: the regime of Saddam Hussein, the Taliban, al Qaeda, ISIS. Of them, as well, God asks: “And should I not be concerned about them and all the people and animals who live in their cities?” The answer now is what it was then: “Yes, of course.” God cares for, reaches out to, accepts, and welcomes those we hold in enmity and those who harm us.

If the book of Jonah is a sermon, then its text is Exodus 34:6, where God identifies as “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness”—virtually identical to the text in Jonah 4:2. These characteristics of God come to be known as the definitive divine attributes in Judaism. God’s love is abundant, even to those we find to be unworthy of it.

"Living the Word" reflections for October can be found here. "Preaching the Word," Sojourners' online resource for sermon preparation and Bible study, is available at sojo.net/ptw.