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Travel Plans?

Grace// She takes the blame// She covers the shame// Removes the stain// It could be her name// Grace// It’s the name for a girl// It’s also a thought that// Changed the world// And when she walks on the street// You can hear the strings// Grace finds goodness// In everything

Grace, from the album All That You Can’t Leave Behind, U2

The book of Jonah is perhaps one of the most familiar books of the minor prophets – after all, any Sunday school worth its salt includes the story of the great fish as part of its’ lesson plan at some point. The number of children’s books about the tale with the whale is countless, but I think too often, the lesson of Jonah is often missed and like the book of Job, this story is one that ends in a bit of a puzzle for many because of that.

Jonah is commanded by God to go to Nineveh, the ancient version of the ISIS caliphate, and warn them of their impending destruction unless they repent. Jonah would rather drink bleach and takes off in the other direction. It’s a downward spiral of futility that puts Jonah in a very precarious position. After all, I can’t think any place much darker and viler than the belly of a great fish – or the ISIS caliphate.

But to say this is a whale of a tale of a whale misses the point. While there may be some reason to commend the traditional view of equating Jonah and Jewish exclusivism, I believe that it is not the real point – it’s like the great fish – another red herring, no pun intended. After all, Jonah is not given a Jewish message of Yawehism – perhaps simply understood as the belief that ‘He Brings into Existence whatever Exists.’  Nor was Jonah’s message about Torah or monotheism for the pagan Ninevites. God commanded him to go and simply cry out “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (Verse 3.2). We need to look a little bit deeper. I hope that you come to see that Jonah is first and foremost a book about God’s love and care for his creation, his freedom to act graciously and the relationship between justice and mercy. It is a narrative that is clearly controlled by God with the intent of demonstrating these attributes.

Let’s look at an often very overlooked part of this story – the qiqayon, in Hebrew; the plant in English. I think it is the hinge on which this whole story turns. The plant is introduced in verse 4.6 and it is the use of the compound divine name that serves to signal that there is much more going on here.

The ‘Lord God’ is used to announce the presence and activity of the plant. The key to the plant’s significance lies in understanding its role in the two-fold function of ‘Lord’ – justice- and ‘God’- mercy: that is, to be a shade from adversity and to rescue Jonah from his morally wrong attitude as displayed in his anger. The plant serves to bring forth the overarching theme and purpose of the book of Jonah: God’s freedom to act graciously and the relationship between justice and mercy. Further, the plant, as demonstrated in the analogy that closes the book, serves to show that Jonah equates with Nineveh: God is putting Jonah in Nineveh’s shoes if you will.

Jonah has an impeding ‘evil’ just as Nineveh does. For Jonah, the evil comes in the form of the sun and the searing wind. In Nineveh’s case, it is their anticipated destruction as foretold by Jonah. Both Jonah and Nineveh embark on actions to prevent any evil from befalling them: Nineveh repents and Jonah builds a booth. An act of divine grace supplements both efforts: God changes his mind about Nineveh and he appoints, that is, he causes a plant to grow over Jonah for shade. The kicker is the worm and the gracious act of God being revoked: the plant dies. Jonah feels the full force of his evil and it brings to bear the futility of his own efforts to protect himself with the booth.

The point is that the plant serves, in this context, as an object lesson for Jonah. At the onset of chapter four, we see that Jonah is angry with God when he perceives that Nineveh’s repentance was not sufficiently sincere to warrant God’s grace. The Ninevites “believed God” but there was no sign of any real repentance such as a conversion to Judaism, perhaps. All that we see is that the Ninevites engaged in some superficial ritual and lamented. That was enough for God: God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it (3.10).

By putting Jonah in Nineveh’s shoes, God does to Jonah, what Jonah wanted God to do to Nineveh. Jonah’s anger in verse eight stems from God’s unmerited grace not working for him (Jonah) but it did work for Nineveh when it was also unmerited. The issue at hand was not what Jonah or Nineveh deserved or did not deserve, but more importantly whether Jonah’s efforts were capable of providing relief and we see that they were not. In his own mind, Jonah’s anger was warranted anger on deuteronomistic grounds -Nineveh deserved it. God had applied the verdict and Jonah delivered it. The function of the unpredictable plant served to show Jonah that his was a theology of selfishness. He did nothing to create the plant, grow it or otherwise. Likewise, his efforts with the booth were no more effective than the shallow acts of repentance made by Nineveh whose condition remained wretched. As the closing verses and analogy make very clear, God’s right to bestow grace cannot be limited by anyone’s narrow theology- it was about God’s sovereign right to do so. 

Jonah was never about unblemished, perfect faith, or a condemnation of the attitude of Jews toward Gentiles and Jewish exclusivism. If that were the case, then the book might very likely have been about urging Jews not to act like Jonah and respond as Nineveh responded.

Repentance is not capable of providing deliverance by its own virtue any more than Jonah’s booth being sufficient for relief. It can stir God’s compassion which Jonah realized and why he ran away in the first place.  In these acts of grace, God is not compromised because the sin is not forgiven: it is merely postponed. Forgiveness would come later.

So, as one of the gentlemen in my Saturday morning men’s bible study group inquired as we concluded our study of another book of scripture – what does all of this mean for John Doe? What do we see when we gaze into the mirror of the book of Jonah?

I would suggest that we see people of faith disgusted with the course of world history in many ways and bearing resentment against God’s seeming lack of activity and forbearance of the evil that the world is drowning in. So very often we witness ourselves expounding scripture and simultaneously throwing our hands up in despondent resignation – O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live (4.3). A few days of vacation -time in the pleasant shade – and all of our worries about the world and God drift away.  The joy of being under the unpredictable plant is witnessed in the new car, the pay raise, the shopping spree – that is until the worm attacks and the plant withers: the car breaks down, the children need new shoes, the rent is due and the pay check has been spent on food.

Do you have the right to be angry about the plant? (4.9).  Nineveh, like folks that love our new cars and vacations, is part of creation, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 people who cannot tell right from wrong and many animals are there also (4.11). God values all of his creation- just ask Job. As he tells Job,  “I can show you and I can explain it ad nauseum, but you’re not going to get it – just trust me.” Or in the question posed to Jonah: “Should I not be concerned for that great city Nineveh?” The open ended question at the close of Jonah is much like that of never directly addressing Job’s lament. While God does not answer or leaves us with a question, he is at the same time, seeking our trust and agreement to engage and further the journey from the now to the not yet of the kingdom. The worm induced loss of the shade of the plant is to awaken us to God’s compassion for his creation and our grasp of that. Jesus said as much about our loss induced anger, when he taught how the people of Nineveh would arise and condemn the current generation of Pharisees and Sadducees. God arrives at his goal to save “Nineveh” with the deliverance of Christ – a goal of compassion and mercy that conquers death. Grace. She walks the streets and finds beauty in everything. It is to this hope that we who claim to be Easter people, have been called. But whether or not the Lord arrives at his destination with us, depends on where we choose to travel – Tarshish or Nineveh.

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The Irony of Blindness

Short people got no reason to live// They got little hands// And little eyes// And they walk around// Tellin’ great big lies// They got little noses// And tiny little teeth// They wear platform shoes// On their nasty little feet// Well, I don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people ‘Round here…

From the song “Short People” by Randy Newman, 1977

Short people – short on tolerance; short on humility; short in sight; short on love of neighbor. Bigotry, racism, hateful ignorance. Randy Newman’s ironic poke at racism and bigotry reminded me of another person persecuted for difference. I want to peek inside a story from Luke 19, verses 1-10 that most probably first heard about in a Sunday school song:

Zacchaeus was a wee, little man // And a wee, little man was he.// He climbed up in a sycamore tree // For the Lord he wanted to see.

Jesus is on the road at Jericho, a wealthy city in the foothills leading to Jerusalem – it is the last leg of his journey to the temple, when he encounters Zacchaeus, the lead tax collector, a man universally despised, short in stature, which may very well be referring to his communal status as well as his height. Poor guy – he’s the one in the room everyone hates and he knows it. He has to run along the parade route behind the crowds in front of him – crowds that tighten their positions to keep him out. And there is little Zacchaeus, jumping up and down, trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, when he comes to the sycamore tree: a tree with low branches that made climbing easy and a tree loaded with large leaves that would hinder his presence from being detected by the crowd. A wealthy, grown man, clambering up a tree. What made him throw embarrassment, shame, and ridicule aside, not caring what people thought and what they might possibly see of his more private affairs?

He simply wanted to get a look at Jesus. After all, Jesus was a man that welcomed people like Zacchaeus. Jesus even has one of the guys from the Brotherhood of Tax Collectors local 106 in Galilee as one of his disciples. He must be an okay guy.

But Jesus spots him instead and tells him to come down.

The marginalized, the people on the wrong side of the crowds, the ones pushed off to the shoulder of the road, the ones blocked from participating in the community, the ones forced to climb a tree, are the ones who see most clearly. The blind beggar at the end of Luke 18 sees without eyes and Zacchaeus sees with his heart. And yet, the insiders, the disciples, the good white, evangelicals lining the roads telling others to go away, are the real blind ones. They don’t want those short people hanging around. The light of salvation is standing right in front of them and all they can see are their earthly expectations; all they can see is their own self-worth; all they can see are those who think and act like they do; all that they can see are their self-serving restrictions on who is in and who is out; all they see is a riddle; all they see is that they want to remain blind. It’s more comfortable and they grumble at anything that challenges them otherwise. Fake news.

The irony in all of this is that this is our story as well. This passage is not just some far removed happenstance on a dusty road in Palestine 2,000 years ago. It’s a story we continue to enact in varying degrees today, day after day. Zacchaeus was stereotyped and stigmatized by the blindness of the crowds much the same way we do grumbling about all of them: the opposite political party, immigrants, Muslims and their burquas, Jews and their yarmulkes, Hindus and their bindis, atheists, straight, the ‘nones’, the gay couple that just moved into the neighborhood, the transgender boy that wants to join the scouts and those Asian, black, and Hispanic people that seem to be everywhere and now the neighborhood just isn’t the same. We whisper about the couple getting divorced, the family dealing with an addicted member. We condemn the poor as lazy and self-seeking in their charity or the felon who must check a box for the rest of his or her life, condemning far too many to underemployment and marginality. Worse yet, we proclaim prisons as houses of correction where there is no effort to do so, insuring the condemnation of many to an endless cycle of poverty and prison. After all, I’m not like you: I must deserve it.

We stereotype and stigmatize all day long. The disciples did it when they failed to understand the plain language of Jesus, remaining in their stereotyped expectations of messianic deliverance, not bothering to lift the veils from their eyes to truly see what scripture and Jesus had been saying all along. And when we revel in our attitudes of exclusion and self-righteousness, we, like the disciples, miss the message of Jesus and the cross. The kingdoms of our making, the kingdoms of racial division, white privilege, political tribalism, violence, materialistic greed are antithetical to the kingdom of God, but we continue to build them because we are just too willingly blind to accept the hard truth of Christ and the cross.

Jesus emphatically states: “Zacchaeus, today salvation has come to your house, and I am coming over for dinner.” This is the nub of the scandal of Zacchaeus’s story: Jesus was coming over for dinner. It’s at the heart of the problem the crowds are having as they grumble – he eats with sinners and tax collectors! Dinner parties in the Greco-Roman era were the society balls and political fund raising dinners of their time. It was the place to see and be seen, to affirm at the very least, to promote at its best, or to diminish at its worst, the social standing of anyone. To be invited to a dinner party means you are part of the ‘in’ crowd, you are part of the family.

Yet, here’s the beautiful thing. You don’t go looking for Jesus, Jesus comes looking for you. And that’s the good news for you and I, the blind and the lost. The good news is that today salvation has come to all of us because the Human One has come to seek us out. Jesus says to all who believe in him, that today, he is coming into our houses, coming to we who are what we stereotype and stigmatize, we who are “them” – he is coming to have dinner with us. Jesus call us to the table – all of us – the sinner and tax collectors, the blind and the broken, to affirm our place as children of the living God, spared certain destruction by the unmerited gift of the cross, to sit as one family gathered around the gifts of God for the people of God.

Late in his song, Newman sings: Short People are just the same as you and I. All men are brothers until the day they die. Imago dei – we are all made in the image of God. Go into the world today and every day with unyielding gratitude and the overflowing joy of a people found with sight restored – one family –  not white, black, brown yellow, red, not Republican or Democrat, straight, gay or in-between, – one blessed family that has room for all: a family invited to the greatest dinner party of all time. Thanks be to God – Amen.

Masthead Artwork: By Niels Larsen Stevns – Own work (photo: Gunnar Bach Pedersen) (Randers Museum of Art, Randers, Denmark), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1428023

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Cataracts

I can see clearly now the rain is gone// I can see all obstacles in my way// Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind// It’s gonna be a bright (bright)// Bright (bright) sunshiny day

Johnny Nash, 1971

I recently had posted something about holy happenings that generated some discussion about my understanding of the location of God. Somehow, the conversation shifted to Israel’s understanding and whether I was challenged by its ancient perspective. In a word, no. For the ancient Israelites, the symbols of altar, tabernacle and temple functioned for them as images of God’s house and that God dwelled with his people there. As a Christian, I believe that their understanding of a living God, active in creation and dwelling with us was fully confirmed in Jesus Christ because all the fullness of God was pleased to live in him (Colossians 1.19).

That being said, I share the awareness of the psalmist’s regarding the presence of God everywhere: He loves righteousness and justice; the Lord’s faithful love fills the whole earth (Psalm 33.5); But your loyal love, Lord, extends to the skies; your faithfulness reaches the clouds. Your righteousness is like the strongest mountains; your justice is like the deepest sea. Lord, you save both humans and animals. (Psalm 36.5-6); Lord, the world is full of your faithful love! Teach me your statutes! (Psalm 119.6).

And when I stop to remove the cataracts, I find that I locate God in a myriad of places, not the least of which is in the lives of my wife, daughter and I. We are where we are, and who we are, as family and individuals because of God’s direction and blessings owing to the work of the Holy Spirit that has manifested itself in the help, support and love from Christian, Jew and Muslim alike, as we struggled through incredibly dark, dangerous times.

I find God’s presence in the laughter and song of the children of our nursery school and in the love and care that the small group of teachers and aides shower upon them. I may be “Mr. Keith’ to the little ones, but each and every one of them are God moments for me.

I witnessed God’s presence around the table of older men that met (pre Covid-19) regularly every Saturday morning to share coffee, lots of ‘fish’ stories and most importantly, his Word. I have observed the work of the Spirit in several of their lives; a transformation taking them deeper into their faith and scriptural understanding. I find God’s presence in the work of our food pantry and its many volunteers that assist 100 families a month as they struggle with food insecurities.

But the most breathtaking, awesome, overwhelming evidence of God’s presence is what I witness in my daughter’s testimony. Skylar recently unearthed the Anne Frank of her generation in a young woman that perished in the Columbine High School massacre. The woman’s story triggered reactions from my daughter that demonstrate the presence and deep love of God; an awareness that is challenging her, but so very, very importantly, showing her God’s work and presence in her life.

All of these are instances of the sacred for me: that is, where the material and the spiritual have, and do, intersect. As I said, once you remove the cataracts…

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Sad Songs Say So Much

Guess there are times when we all need to share a little pain // And ironin’ out the rough spot Is the hardest part when memories remain // And it’s times like these when we all need to hear the radio // ‘Cause from the lips of some old singer // We can share the troubles we already know// Turn ’em on, turn ’em on // Turn on those sad songs // When all hope is gone (ah…) // Why don’t you tune in and turn them on? // They reach into your room, oh // Just feel their gentle touch // when all hope is gone // Sad songs say so much

“Sad Songs” Elton John and Bernie Taupin, 1984

But….all hope is not gone. I want to talk about something that I believe is overlooked, misunderstood, and sorely needed, perhaps no more so than in the age of Covid-19. We are hurting; one in three people are reporting anxiety issues; many are angry and all of us uncertain. As one person reported, it’s like being on an endless car ride with a drunk at the wheel.

I want to talk about lament.

Lament. It’s more than just venting. Lament is prayer, a passionate expression of grief or sorrow and it is something too many of us, the church included, find difficult to do. We have this silly notion that we cannot bring such expressions of anger, the desire for sweet revenge, and despair into our conversations with God: that we must somehow rid ourselves of such imperfections before God will be interested in hearing from us. Or that worship must always be upbeat, nothing but praise and joy- no ‘Debby downers’ allowed. And oh, then there is the unspoken true American religion of optimism and denial. Big boys don’t cry, so suck it up buttercup and get along with life. In the futile idealism that doesn’t match up with reality, we flat out refuse to acknowledge the darkness and evil realities of life in a way that honestly demonstrates our dependency on the Lord until we are wearied beyond belief. We cannot honestly face our anger and grief: we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us (1 John 1.8).

Lament is healthy and it is one of the most theologically sound practices you can undertake to express the pain, sorrow and grief caused by the suffering in your life. Lament allows you to hallow your anguish in prayer, both communally and privately. Lament is our divine invitation to talk to and with God, about our pain. We are blessed to have a God that weeps with us and in God’s own tears, works to heal and restore us – think Lazarus. Lament has an important purpose and that is trust. We know that our sovereign God has the power to deliver: the tomb is empty.

And here’s the beautiful thing. We have been handed a road map for lament from God for exactly that purpose: the Bible. The Bible is filled with these songs of sorrow: the book of Lamentations weeps over the destruction of Jerusalem; Job reminds us that there are more pains and unanswered questions in heaven and earth than we can grasp; Jesus lamented in the final hours of his life. And then we have the Psalms, likely the single best prayer guide ever printed.

Formulated as human speech, the psalms are God’s words put directly into our mouths to give back to God.  

The Hebrew title for the Psalter is Tehillîm – the Book of Praises, seemingly a contradiction as lament makes up the bulk of the book. That is a point worth pondering and praying on. Lament calls for opening yourself up to God with honest speech and when you do, you begin to break the logjam, allowing your tears to drench your bed and make way for the joy and praise that comes from experiencing God’s healing presence.

Lament: it is protest, it is petition, and it is praise. It is gift.

Protest. Turn to God. How long will you forget me, Lord? Forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long will I be left to my own wits, agony filling my heart? Daily? How long will my enemy keep defeating me? (Psalm 13.1-2). Humbly and honestly, identify the pain, the anger, the questions, and frustrations welling up inside.

Petition. Knock and state your case. Wallowing in sorrow leads to despair or denial. To seek God’s help with your pain is an act of hope and faith in God’s promises. Look at me! Answer me, Lord my God! Restore sight to my eyes! Otherwise, I’ll sleep the sleep of death, and my enemy will say, “I won!” My foes will rejoice over my downfall (Psalm 13.3-4).

Praise: The heart of the act of trust that lament is and where all roads lead: But I have trusted in your faithful love. My heart will rejoice in your salvation.Yes, I will sing to the Lord because he has been good to me (Psalm 13.5-6). This is language that renews our faithful commitment to trust in God as we journey through a broken world.

Many folks have found themselves and their circumstances in these prayers, myself included. What I discovered was that I found myself through them: an understanding of who I am, what I need and most importantly, I discovered the language to say it all to God. One of my favorite Irish poets caught this well:

Whenever God shines his light on me // Opens up my eyes so I can see // When I look up in the darkest night // And I know everything’s going to be alright // In deep confusion, in great despair// When I reach out for him he is there // When I am lonely as I can be // And I know that God shines his light on me. “Whenever God Shines His Light,” Van Morrison, 1989.

The lament psalms – more than a third of the psalter – they are praise in a minor key – the sad songs that say so much.

Note: There are many more than the following, but I offer a few suggestions to get started: Psalm 6, 11, 12, 13, 22, 23, 39, 40, 44, 46, 54, 62, 73, 88, 102, 109, 121, 137, 143.

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Christian Assumptions

Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land. Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other. Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky. The Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.

Psalm 85.9-12

We all know what assume means…the old saw about making an ass out of u and me. There are many times we experience the truth of that as it really means to act on something as if it were fact when indeed it isn’t. But the flip side may be equally true and one that does not have such embedded cynicism. Yes, there are times when we must assume that something is true and allow that assumption to guide our actions. As a Christian, I believe that the Bible provides us with many things on which we can make assumptions; good, healthy, life giving assumptions that shape our walk today and tomorrow.

Assume God is working in your life right now.

God has created a unique plan for each one of our lives. By the power of the Spirit, God works in a particular fashion in particular people for God’s particular purposes. Bless the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! He has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing that comes from heaven… God destined us to be his adopted children through Jesus Christ because of his love. This was according to his goodwill and plan and to honor his glorious grace that he has given to us freely through the Son whom he loves…We have also received an inheritance in Christ. We were destined by the plan of God, who accomplishes everything according to his design. Ephesians 1.3, 5-6, 11

Assume the Lord has great things in store for you.

All of creation is groaning and suffering labor pains and, as the bumper sticker says, ‘stinky tuff happens.’ But with the resurrection, a cosmic shockwave has occurred. Death has been the tyrant, but in Christ, something new has happened: the good news of the created order being restored and all of us along with it. We cannot fathom God’s time or timing, but it is never too early or too late: It is always the right time. Have patience because endurance produces character and character produces hope: Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” Luke 6.20-12

Assume people love you.

Hah, you might be tempted to cry! I was born at night, but not last night! It’s easy to be cynical but, “I say unto you,” look upon everyone as made in the image. Expect good things from others. Be kind, honest, forgiving, and loving your neighbor as yourself. The people you meet could be new friends and not adversaries. I was hungry and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me.I was naked and you gave me clothes to wear. I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.’ “Then those who are righteous will reply to him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink?When did we see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked and give you clothes to wear? When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’“Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’ Matthew 25.35-40

Assume your ideas come from the indwelling of Christ through whom you can do anything.

You can’t prove it, but you can believe it. Stop procrastinating – move forward with your inklings and discover the potential Christ has birthed within you. Take chances, go out on a limb. Be all you can be. Embrace kingdom work. Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain (1 Corinthians 15.58). You are never more alive than when you run risks for the Lord of lords. Stop wasting time and energy on negativity and negative assumptions. It does nothing but fill you with hate, envy, anger, and disappointment. It is sad and depressing for you and everyone around you. The Bible proclaims a living God of steadfast love and faithfulness, of righteousness and peace, a God that will give you what is good. Believe this and give God a chance in your life and your outlook on life. God loves you. God gave his only Son for you. Cherish that love and assume that you are a special, beloved child of the King of kings and you will come to assume you are a fortunate, blessed person in God’s world.

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. 1 John 3.1

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Holy Happenings

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Psalm 114

1When Israel went out from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, 2Judah became God’s sanctuary, Israel his dominion. 3The sea looked and fled; Jordan turned back. 4The mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs. 5Why is it, O sea, that you flee? O Jordan, that you turn back? 6O mountains, that you skip like rams? O hills, like lambs? 7Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, 8who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water. (NRSV)

God holds nothing back when God wants to do something significant for us. No mountain, no barrier, no human can get in the way of God’s plans for you, just as nothing was able to get in the way of delivering God’s people from Egypt.

I call them holy happenings. God involves people in their unfolding, but God is in control and cannot be stopped. God can do it anytime, anywhere and in any place: from safe passage through the Red Sea, to the resurrection of Jesus, the conversion of Paul and the visions of John.  Holy happenings are beyond human comprehension, definition, and explanation.

Recognizing holy happenings requires a sense of awe and wonder, and the eyesight of faith.  Real power is unseen. The real power of a home depends on love and respect, not the size of the house. The real power of electricity is in the current, not the cable. So it is with God.

The power of God is not experienced face-to-face, but through God’s many manifestations in the world. Accept the mystery; don’t let fear or doubt settle in your mind and get in the way. God produces holy happenings to reassure us of God’s presence, power and love, not to terrify us. Remember, Scripture shows that peace always comes out of confusion.

Holy happenings change history. Holy happenings change the world. A holy happening could change your life, so look around. There are holy happenings in your life right now: family gathered around the dinner table; staycations and more time at home being a neighbor with those you might have never met otherwise; being free to teach your child how to ride a bike; learning to bake bread; savoring the scent of honeysuckle on a summer morning; doing the evening dishes with your spouse. Look around, inhale the beauty of God’s good creation: you have the time. The mountains and hills could be skipping like rams and lambs.

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Chasing After Wind -Hevel

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Life was so beautiful // Then we all got locked down// Feel a like ghost // Living in a ghost town.. yeah…I'm a ghost// Living in a ghost town // I'm going nowhere //
 Shut up all alone// So much time to lose // Just staring at my phone...
Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, "Living in a Ghost Town," Polydor, 2020

It does feel like a ghostly time. While some ‘normalcy’ to life has returned to my part of the country for now, much of life yet remains in a weird fog of uncertainty made all the more so by the made for TV fascism produced by the apprentice of the Oval Office. It’s an atmosphere that makes you wonder what really matters anymore. It is an ambience well captured by my one of my favorite Hebrew words: hevel. It means breath, vapor, fog, a fleeting ephemerality, the notion of a transitory existence. A ghost. It is the root for the name Able, a man of transitory existence par excellence. I have often likened hevel to be something akin to nailing jello to a tree and in these times, trying to grab hold of the touchstones that gave our lives a sense of stability and direction too often feels like an exercise in that kind of futility. Hevel – vanity, one of the central threads woven throughout the book we know as Ecclesiastes. Hevel – the word appears 38 times, beginning in verse 2: hevel hakkōl hevelim – vanity of vanities.

I do not like the Latin transliteration of the Greek translation of the Hebrew title, Koheleth. In Greek, Ekklēsiastḗs, means ‘of an assembly’ or ‘one who calls an assembly,’ perhaps a preacher. It’s a title that I think obfuscates. The Hebrew title of the book, as with all Hebrew names for the books of the Bible, comes from the first verse: “The words of the Teacher,” Koheleth. It is plain to see what things are all about for that which follows: the words of a teacher who has much to teach us. Koheleth.

While Proverbs presumes the existence of a moral order instilled and maintained by the divine creator that purports wisdom’s function was to ensure success, and long, prosperous lives surrounded by our children and admiring friends, Koheleth paints quite a different and humbling picture more akin to the realities of a broken world: a book that at its core, teaches humility.

If you haven’t yet, or perhaps haven’t in a while, there is no better time like now to dive into this selection from the wisdom literature of the Bible. Martin Luther felt that Koheleth should be read daily by Christians and it was, according to a Vietnam war chaplain, a book that the soldiers welcomed hearing from most often. I have heard others liken reading Koheleth to slipping into a warm bath. Interesting comparison. In this post, I would like to share some of my thoughts about slipping into this warm bath from the word of God.

Koheleth doesn’t ‘speak into my life’ as much as it speaks about my life. It is a beautifully crafted, artistic reflection and interpretation of life that experience has shown to be compelling and persuasive. The Teacher writes in a manner that that imitates life itself, posing life’s perplexing questions and meaning without giving a direct answer: “For who knows what is good for mortals while they live the few days of their vain life, which they pass like a shadow? For who can tell them what will be after them under the sun? (6.12). We can speak of the mundane clearly enough, but ultimate truth is the slippery eel that escapes our mortal limits of understanding if we are humble enough to admit it.

The obsession with materiality that devours so many lives, my own past included, is on point, especially the futility of it: “What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun?” (1.3). As a teenager, I heard a call from God to the pastorate that I diligently ignored for the better part of forty-five years, chasing the almighty dollar with great ‘success’ as an investment broker. That is if you measure success by your bank account balance and the size of your home. I was one of those that indulged in the ‘total work’ culture we inhabit, valuing myself by the ninety hour plus weeks that I put in, blind to the beauty and joy found in the gifts of my wife and daughter. What I discovered in the humiliating process of losing money, house, cars, fancy suits and temporarily, my freedom, was that none of it had mattered in the first place: “Then I saw that all toil and all skill in work come from one person’s envy of another. This also is vanity and a chasing after wind” (4.4). Hevel indeed.

In the process, I came to grips with Koheleth’s observation to not romanticize the past: “Do not say, ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For it is not from wisdom that you ask this” (7.10) The nostalgic valuation of the past negates any possibility of present joy and less obviously, dismisses present responsibilities.  It is conceivably easy to look back and relish the six-bedroom home over against the small apartment we now occupy, but to do so would be to forget that our current home was a gift from God at a time of imminent homelessness: a negligence which could readily contribute to reestablishing the mindset that created the problems in the first place – ignoring the Lord’s call and presence in my life while chasing the hevel of materiality. Hevel hakkōl hevelim – vanity of vanities.

Where Koheleth speaks most profoundly for me is with our fleeting lifespans. As I pass my ‘best used by date,’ I clearly understand how quickly time passes and that every moment is to be savored. In verse 9.4 we read: “But whoever is joined with all the living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion.”  The only ‘security’ ; a better translation than ‘hope,’ anchors the living with the knowledge that we all die. It is a sobering thought, but an essential one, as it is far too easy to be caught up chasing after the wind of excess materiality or deep depression. Koheleth exhorts:

“Go, eat your bread with enjoyment, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Let your garments always be white; do not let oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that are given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do with your might; for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun” (9.7-10). 

Given the fleetingness of my ‘hevel’ life, this serves as a reminder to enjoy the gifts of God that matter. The ups and downs, the good, the bad and the ugly, find their ways into everyone’s life at some point or another. Adhering to the commands of God is the only intelligent and faithful response to the essential fact that ‘all is hevel’.

In many ways, my favorite poet from the tidewater of Virginia captured my experience with the words of the Teacher:

“When I was younger I saw things in black and white, // Now all I see is a sad, hazy gray. Sometimes I see a narrow flash of light, // Sometimes I look and you show me the way. No matter what else happens, //What the future will be, in a world so uncertain, // Through the clouds it’s hard to see. I will grab you and carry you, // Calm your fears if you’re afraid, We’ll go walking, // Across the fields of gray.” (Bruce Hornsby, Fields of Gray, Harbor Lights, RCA, 1993.)

In the fields and times of the gray of life, Koheleth is truly a jewel of revelation to keep to the course of our faith: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for that is the whole duty of everyone. For God will bring every deed into judgement, including every secret thing, whether good or evil” (12.12-14). Focus, the Teacher implores, on the constancy of the promise of God in Christ as a lamp unto my feet. Light that shines in the darkness of hevel and the darkness cannot, and will not, ever overcome it.

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Getting Right-side Up

Lady Wisdom – Titian, 1560
“The world that we all knew before, could wake up in feeling safe... now it seems that everything has been turned upside down.” Tori Amos

Upside down indeed! An unknown virus goes around the world faster than Phileas Fogg and Passepartout, murdering hundreds of thousands and devastating national economies, creating further madness and mayhem for those still living. Dreams are shattered, lives are placed on indefinite hold by an unseen, capricious, biological mutation arbitrarily making the difference between life and death. We define ourselves by our careers and the virus has created an existential crisis of identity made more acute by our very real physical isolation. It is not surprising to see the selfishness of the “I, Me, Mine” culture we inhabit on vivid display. As David Brooks has noted, we are a “morally inarticulate culture,”[1] adrift at the very time when the most fundamental moral questions should be front and center.

Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. At the busiest corner she cries out; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks: ‘How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple? How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge? (Proverbs 1.20-22, NRSV).

Listening to Lady Wisdom has never been more important as now.

I savor the book of Proverbs: a poetic compilation of the roadmap to how God has designed the world to work. The proverbs of “Solomon son of David, king of Israel” illuminates the ways of godly living and the means by which to reflect kingdom work and God’s glory in the details of life and relationships. They are ancient anchors of wisdom that keep us steady and focused on Christ during times of transition and uncertainty: a crucial distinction between reading Proverbs for advice and going to it for wisdom.[2] And, in today’s upside down climate, it is a distinction that is all the more compelling.

As a young father, I used to bristle at Proverbs that appeared to condone corporal punishment: “Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them’(13.24, NRSV); and “Do not withhold discipline from your children; if you beat them with a rod, they will not die. If you beat them with the rod, you will save their lives from Sheol”(23.13-14, NRSV). Sounds like a good way to get arrested today. However, what I have since learned, is that the sages of Proverbs had a more nuanced idea about discipline. In the second verse of the book’s opening act, the Hebrew word, mûsar, (which many translate as “instruction”), is better translated as “discipline.” The noted theologian Ellen Davis writes that mûsar “…always denotes authoritative instruction or correction from God or God’s agent, personified Wisdom, or from a teacher or a parent.”[3] Discipline, in this sense, should be seen in the positive context of setting boundaries; a prescriptive hermeneutical lens of instruction for how to live life, rather than to describe how life is: an understanding of discipline that is well captured by a verse from the Thomas Troeger hymn, “God Marked a Line and Told the Sea.” From verse 5: “We are not free when we’re confined//to every wish that sweeps the mind, //but free when freely we accept//the sacred bounds that must be kept.” [4] As I look at my flourishing twenty-one year old daughter, I can clearly see the living results.

Discipline and boundaries driven by sacred love is a wise teaching indeed, especially for a society that is captivated by every individualistic wish and whim: a society deeply polarized by those whims. “The one who lives alone is self-indulgent, showing contempt for all who have sound judgement. A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion” (18.1-2). The Hebrew translated as “lives alone” literally means to separate oneself: it is an ‘us versus them’ way of life that has become our cultural norm,  constituting a very positive danger that rejects the importance and value of community. The price of abandoning community is more than personal isolation or lack of fulfillment: it is anarchy, personal chaos and too often, open and frequently violent hostility toward others. Nowhere is this more clearly on display than with the “my body, my freedom” assertion against the wearing of masks in our struggle to combat the horror of Covid-19.

As we continue to face the bitter divisiveness and uncertainties of our time, the sages offer a way forward, urging us to dive deeply into our faith, an immersion that leads to an internal disposition of stability: “No one finds security by wickedness, but the root of the righteous will never be moved…The wicked covet the proceeds of wickedness, but the root of the righteous bears fruit” (12.3, 12). This is not merely psychological stability, but something deeper than any psychologist could validate. The root of the righteous will never be moved because the righteous are rooted in God: “…their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper” (Psalm 1.2-3, NRSV). This is stability that stands at the foot of the cross and laments with a God that knows our pain and weeps with us. It is a stability whose foundation is predicated on the knowledge that God is not elsewhere and confers the hope to accept the present situation, with all of its limitations as providing all the necessary conditions for faithful living: to ask what, not why; to ask how, and for whom.

 “The root of the righteous bears fruit.” Thomas Aquinas echoed this proverb when he taught that justice is the responsibility that we owe one another as fellow creatures of the One God. Yet, too frequently, we fail to act justly toward others and in the process, we do not do the kingdom work Christ calls us to do. So many of our acts of injustice (economic and personal) stem from a vain pursuit of our “real self” which more money, a more exciting marriage, more prestigious friends and another shopping spree will surely enable us to find and let Covid-19 take the hindmost. We should be fixed, not in that which is blown like chaff in the wind, but in the rootedness of God: “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast. I will sing and make melody” (Psalm 57.7, NRSV). As we move forward, we need to rethink our understanding of the kind of knowledge that comprises wisdom to include an awareness of the political and scientific realities of our world and the necessary responses that promote justice in the social arena. I’ll let Jesus have the last word. “But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market-places and calling to one another, “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn”… Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds’ (Matthew 11.16-17,19b).

[1] David Brooks, “Opinion | The Moral Meaning of the Plague,” The New York Times, March 26, 2020, sec. Opinion, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/26/opinion/coronavirus-meaning.html.

[2] John 1.1-3 is a clear echo of Proverbs 8.22-32. Paul picks up on this theme in his letter to the church in Corinth: “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1.22-24, NRSV).

[3] Ellen F. Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs, 1st ed, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), 25.

[4] God Marked a Line and Told the Sea, by Thomas Troeger as found in Lift up Your Hearts: Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Faith Alive Christian Resources, 2013), Hymn #28, verse 5.

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Before…and…After

Job on the Ash Heap – Jusepe de Ribera

During this time of pandemic, many of us have been confronted by a range of emotions that have been a tough challenge as we have endured isolation, economic duress and much uncertainty. We have many, many questions and very, very, few answers. Who was the author when asked if, in spite of his atheism, he met God and what he might say? Bernard Shaw? Whoever it was, his answer was along the lines of ‘why did you provide so little evidence of your existence?’ At times like this, I have heard several people voice that very lament. I can relate…far too easily. I have been guilty of the same sentiment until I discovered my humanity and with it, humility.

Before…

Job is my buddy – the Job of the Bible, that is. What is likely the oldest text in our bible, the book of Job is part of the wisdom literature and it is a text that has stood me well over the years. If you have never read it, this is as good a time as any and if you have some trouble with biblical language, try the Common English Bible or Eugene Peterson’s take in The Message.

For those that have read it, I don’t know about you, but I have always thought that the opening to the book of Job was a bit odd. The first verse: “There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job”[1] has a Grimm Brothers fairy tale ring to it à la ‘once upon a time.’ And right from this curious opening, we are told that Job “was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.” [2] Blameless and upright? Who can possible be blameless? Maybe the author hadn’t read Paul or their Augustine yet. And then again….

A key to understanding this characterization of Job rests with the Hebrew translated as blameless, the word tam. It is not describing someone that is sinless, but rather one who is morally whole or complete, integrity. Being “upright” implies a sense of straightness or directness in Job’s affairs with God and neighbor; that is, Job would embody the virtues of love for neighbor, care for the poor and a concern with justice. Job exemplifies religious, moral, and ethical integrity that stems from “scrupulous habits of sacrifice combined with a genuinely righteous character;” [3] a manifestation witnessed in Job’s compulsive and meticulous attention to religious detail in the care and concern for his children’s well-being: “And when the feast days had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt-offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, ‘It may be that my children have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’ This is what Job always did.” [4] Job is faithful then, in God’s way of life to which God himself testifies on two distinct occasions.[5]

Coupled with his bountiful offspring [6] and wealth, Job “was the greatest of all the people of the east.” [7] Yet when all was lost in disasters that would fell any other person, Job’s initial response to the news was remarkable: “Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshipped. He said, ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’[8] Job’s rejection of his wife’s seemingly sane conclusion to curse God and die, speaks volumes to the depth of his faith and his integrity:“But he said to her, “You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips.”[9]  He is quite confident about the meaning of life and his relationship with God, while all the while, unaware of how much he does not know.  

Yet, sitting on the ash heap in the days of silence that follow, suffering has overtaken Job. In chapter three, we encounter a man that is suddenly questioning the value of a life that is filled with dread, confusion and alienation. If life is ultimately to be one of suffering, why “is light given to one in misery, and life to the bitter in soul?” [10] Although he persistently refuses to abandon his faith in the face of his friends repeated and insulting entreaties to do so, Job’s question, and his dawning fear of the enmity of God, cause him not to let go of God, but form the beginning for letting go his understanding of God, himself and life: the necessary step leading to the transformed Job we meet in the epilogue.

After…

The turn comes after God’s first speech from the whirlwind as Job admits to a respectful silence: “Then Job answered the Lord: ‘See, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.’[11]  In verse 40.8, [12] God confronts Job’s limited ‘either/or’ worldview head on with a previously unthinkable challenge of ‘both/and’: that Job can be innocent and God can be just, a perspective that impels Job to a deeper grasp of reality now fully accepted after God’s second speech: Job, stripped of his ego, recants and reconsiders what being human means: “I had heard of you by hearsay, but now my eye has seen you. Therefore, I recant and change my mind concerning dust and ashes.” [13] Ellen Davis argues, “Job’s final words indicate that he accepts correction implicit in the vision and at last claims his integrity of God’s terms, surrendering to a wholeness that he can never comprehend.”[14] The voice from the center of the whirlwind clearly demonstrates to Job that he is not at the center of the universe.

It is a transforming surrender that secures the courage for Job to claim this new integrity and identity with forgiveness, joy and lightheartedness, knowing that things are not at all the same. He can pray for his tormenting ‘friends,’ and perhaps most telling of all, he has the courage to once again have children: to reinvest in family and life with full knowledge of the uncertainties that life entails. The change in Job from a fearful and circumspect man, anxious about the possible sins of his children, to a forgiving, carefree, parent that can name his daughters Dove, Cinnamon, and Eye of Horn Shadow, as well as breaking with all social norms by leaving them an inheritance, shows just how far Job’s character has been changed by his inspirational model, God.

In many ways, the book of Job is posing the great question – Is there a living God beyond what we can imagine? Is there a Being independent of us, beyond the boundaries of earthly life and earthly struggle? Is there a God who speaks with a voice that is not simply projected out of our own human consciousness? Is there a God that can deliver us from the dust? In a word, yes.

Job teaches several faithful responses: speak to God honestly and directly, trusting that God will answer; risk living and loving, even after great pain; and delight in a world that is wild and beautiful and risky, trusting in the faithful God who created and still sustains that world. Job’s willingness to once again embrace life, fully and joyously, is at the very heart of what it means to be human and to engage in faithful living – even when it appears that there is nothing in it for us. Life within the limits of human wisdom is a life of radical faith – to borrow a phrase – it is a free fall into the arms of what our hope tells us are the outstretched arms of God.  It is a life that sees the truth of the cross and embraces it.

I can personally testify to the dilemma Job faced. What I once treasured was taken from me when we lost our daughter Sarah. What I once worshipped proved to be a golden calf. Blinded by the greed of wealth, I did not see that my two business partners were stealing from our company and our investors. What I valued turned to dust as our house and cars were repossessed and my freedom was taken from me. In the midst of great pain, I too cried out and like Job, I was changed.

Job was with me at my wife’s bedside when I broke the news of Sarah; Job was at my side as we endured five miscarriages until the gift of Skylar. Job was at my side as we faced living on the streets; Job was at my side all throughout separation from my family while I was imprisoned. Job was at my side in the midst of my deepest darkness and greatest pain and ultimately taught me to see things from God’s perspective; I began to live in joy with my wife and daughter, the greatest gift from God second only to his son: my life was more than restored.

The fear of the Lord, says scripture, is the beginning of wisdom and the lesson that I am continually learning is that through Job and all of scripture, the living God of infinite power, yet infinite mercy, speaks to all of us that have the ears to listen. However much the storms of this life may batter me within and without, I know that I can put my hand in the hand of the man from Galilee. Perhaps you will too.

[1] NRSV

[2] Job 1.1, NRSV.

[3] Carol M. Bechtel, ed., Touching the Altar: The Old Testament for Christian Worship, The Calvin Institute of Christian Worship Liturgical Studies Series (Grand Rapids, Mich: William B. Eerdmans Pub, 2008), 183.

[4] Job 1.4-5, NRSV.

[5] See Job 1.8 and 2.3

[6] He is blessed with seven sons and three daughters, the perfect complement of children. See Gerald Henry Wilson, Job, New International Biblical Commentary Old Testament Series 10 (Peabody, Mass: Hendrickson Publishers [u.a.], 2007), 19.

[7] Job 1.3, NRSV.

[8] Job 1.20-21, NRSV.

[9] Job 2.10, NRSV.

[10] Job 3.20, NRSV.

[11] See Job 40.3-5

[12] “Will you even put me in the wrong? Will you condemn me that you may be justified?” NRSV.

[13] Job 42.5-6. I find agreement here with the arguments for the translation offered by Ellen Davis in Ellen F. Davis, Getting Involved with God: Rediscovering the Old Testament (Cambridge, Mass: Cowley Publications, 2001), 141.

[14] As found in Carol M Bechtel, Job and the Life of Faith: Wisdom for Today’s World (Pittsburgh, PA: Kerygma Program, 2004), 52.

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Can We Talk?

As is often the case, I was enjoying my end of work day glass of wine while zoning on some tunes that my favorite radio station was spinning. Keep Talking by Pink Floyd came on and it got me day dreaming a bit about our divided and divisive society.

For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals. Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk [1]

We learned to talk. Language, communication, dialogue. Actions that involve one person interacting with another. To express and or exchange ideas with another by means of spoken words. A new age term for dating. Any way you cut the mustard, talking is what brings us together to share, develop and communicate our desires, fears, aches, pains and whatever else. It is what sets us apart from the animals. But have we? Set ourselves apart from the animals that is?

Our society has lost any vestige of meaningful civil and political discourse particularly when people disagree: polarization seems to be the name of the game. Why do we resort to hateful speech and mean-spirited Tweets? Or perhaps a little more telling: “Can I really sit at Thanksgiving dinner with ‘that’ uncle.” Many are forced into uncomfortable silence when even the closest of friends begin ranting. We struggle to find ways for  sincere conversation with those whose values we find repugnant. As the protests against systemic racism and privilege continue to unfold and another election cycle is upon us, there has never been a more important time to keep talking, but can we do so when we have lost connections with each other. In many ways, we are alone together because we have abdicated the ability to be intimate.

There is a perspective that just might help us to re-center and re-focus and recapture our desire for, and comfort with, intimacy: the ability to talk with one another. It’s an unusual choice by some standards, but I would argue (and do) that deep within the wisdom literature of the Bible lives a blueprint that God has provided for times such as these.

The Song of Songs, or as some may know it, The Song of Solomon, is not an easy book for most casual readers and has certainly challenged many of the ‘not so’ casual crowd of clerics and academia, myself included. Yet it is the greatest of all songs and that demands our attention as in some ways, the book may very well be as relevant, or more so, for us today, than at any time in the past. In the words of my one of my seminary professors, Dr. Carol Bechtel,  it is a book that shows the world and our youth “a more excellent way.” [2]

The note theologian, Ellen Davis, raises the challenge that “the cultivation of real intimacy is the greatest social and spiritual challenge of our time” [3] I concur. The centrality of electronic devices has led to a society that is increasingly isolated, hiding behind avatars that tolerate, and may indeed encourage, disconnection by promoting misconceptions, partial truths, language vagueness, and lack of accountability. Texting, email, and posting, allow us to present the self as we want to be: we can edit and delete, we can retouch our faces, our voices, and our bodies. We no longer have conversation: it’s too messy.

In the process, we are sacrificing living together, acting together, and creating community that engages and challenges, settling instead, for the quotidian comfort of imprecision in mere connection. Sheri Turkle, social psychologist and Professor of the Social Studies of Science and Technology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, makes this observation in a blog about reclaiming conversation:

At home, families sit in silence at the dinner table. We text (and shop and tweet) during class and while on dates. At work, executives email during meetings. We’re connected more than ever; not necessarily to one another, but to our keyboards and touch screens. We seek and find ways around real, face-to-face-conversation. We lack empathy and don’t know how to be alone – or truly together. [4]

Turkle’s comment advances a crucial point: we are foregoing our central calling to be in relationship and to love one another. Intimacy is one of the more important and blessed parts of the human condition. Ultimately, losing our ability for mutual conversation destroys the ability to discover each other, compromising our capacity to converse with ourselves and with God. We risk forfeiting prayer: a tragedy of immeasurable consequences.

Furthering Davis’s challenge, the Song illumines how much is still possible in the land ‘east of Eden.’ As well as living in a world driven by social media, we inhabit a culture that is thoroughly imbued with pornography by way of the very same devices that have alienated humanity from conversational intimacy, creating a culture that has been perverted by an obsession with the physical instead of understanding the significance and life giving love of another’s nephesh. The Song “affirms as incomparable the joy of faithful sexual relationship.”[5] Pornography drives a perspective that is relentlessly selfish, brazenly promiscuous, and ruthlessly exploitive, while the Song so beautifully demonstrates the goodness of God’s gift of sexuality that is mutual, generous, and faithful. Our bodies and our relationships were deemed very good by God, something God took on himself in Christ in order to redeem it all from the fall.

Finally, and perhaps, just perhaps most important of all, the Song in many settings celebrates the beauty of the lovers with language that evokes the beauty and bounty of God’s good creation. [6] Davis makes note that the Song never gives a clear picture of what the lovers look like, rather instead, it portrays the very clear image of love for a lush and abundant land redolent in spring. [7] Affirming love for creation and its inherent goodness serves the “indispensable function…in our age [to] remind us that loving attachment to land, our particular homes and fragile planet that we share with other living creatures, is a religious obligation.” [8] It was, after all, our first obligation and the implications that come from our shirking responsibility become more compelling with each day. As Gilmour intoned: It doesn’t have to be like this. All we need to do is Make sure we keep talking

[1] David Gilmour, Richard Wright, Polly Samson, Keep Talking, vol. Division Bell, Pink Floyd (London: Columbia, 1993).

[2] Carol M. Bechtel, “Lecture on the Song of Songs Part IV,” Western Theological Seminary, Holland Michigan, June 16, 2018.

[3] Ellen F. Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs, 1st ed, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), 235.

[4] Sherry Turkle, “Reclaiming Conversation,” Sherry Turkle (blog), January 19, 2018, https://sherryturkle.com/reclaiming-conversation/.

[5] Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs, 235.

[6] Chapter four is notable as the male voice extols the beauty of the bride with references that allude to the promised land of milk and honey: “Your lips distill nectar, my bride; honey and milk are under your tongue; the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon. A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden locked, a fountain sealed. Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates with all choicest fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices – a garden fountain, a well of living water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.” Song Songs 4.11-15, NRSV

[7] e.g  see chapter 2, verses 8-15.

[8] Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs, 236.