15 The Lord treated with scorn all the mighty men within my walls; he marshalled rank on rank against me to crush my young warriors. The Lord trod down, like grapes in the winepress, the virgin daughter of Judah.
The Revised English Bible (Cambridge; New York; Melbourne; Madrid; Cape Town; Singapore; São Paulo; Delhi; Dubai; Tokyo: Cambridge University Press, 1996), La 1:15.
I’m meditating on these verses, intending to write one meditation per day, though I haven’t been keeping up. It can seem like the elements of just staying alive are “marshalled rank on rank against me.” If it’s not one thing, it’s another!
Now in the historical context of this book at this verse, this is about the people suffering conquest and exile, and that by cruel conquerors. I want to emphasize that a key reason for this book being in the Bible, in my opinion, is to let people know it’s OK, and even healthy to acknowledge difficulties. Running around pretending things are fine when they aren’t isn’t healthy, and it isn’t productive. You can’t fix what you don’t recognize.
But in meditating I started to think about the way we talk about troubles in our lives. I’m talking especially about those of us who are in some kind of ministry work. What do we say when obstacles are put in our way?
Well, I’ve noted quite a variety, depending on who is talking and their attitude at the time.
I must be doing something right for the Lord, because the devil’s after me!
I must have missed God’s calling or instructions, because I can’t get through these barriers.
I need more people to pray for me, because prayer is powerful, so more prayer is more powerful!
I must keep my faith face on so nobody knows the trouble I’m seeing. (With apologies to the hymn!)
I must be very open and honest about this so other people realize that they’re not alone in having troubles.
How do you know just how to react?
How do you know, for example, whether the devil’s after you, or whether you’re encountering hardship because you have lost your way?
You don’t. But that doesn’t really matter that much, because what you have to do is hold on to the one who does know. You’re probably going to be off the best path very frequently. It’s going to feel like the world is coming at you “rank on rank.”
What do you do? I can give you all the advice: pray more, listen for the Holy Spirit, use your God-given brain, seek and accept help from others, be willing to correct your program.
That’s good. I like to attempt those things. But most importantly, as the song says, “Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.” He’s the one who can handle the problems that are coming at you rank-on-rank. Panic will get you nowhere. He will.
(Featured image generated by Adobe Firefly Image 5, from a prompt generated by Google Gemini.)
We complain about it, write about it, claim it’s important or even critical, design programs to create it, but what is it?
I don’t mean that none of us know what we mean when we say “biblically literate” or “biblically illiterate,” but do we all mean the same thing? I don’t think we do, and that creates problems in communication.
Between age10 and 14 I attended a school that was extremely serious about Bible study. We had study guides that took us through the entire text of scripture, asking questions as we went. We memorized substantial portions of scripture, such as the entire Sermon on the Mount and Psalm 119. We also memorized selections of texts on various topics, such as four texts on the Sabbath and the state of he dead. (We were SDA, so these were considered important.)
I greatly value the knowledge I gained in this way, but when I was done, was I biblically literate?
This depends, of course, on what one means by biblically literate. Here are some definitions I’ve heard (or experienced):
A person who is acquainted with the key scriptures of his or her specific denomination or group. This type of literacy was provided for me by those “4 text” groups on particular doctrines. I could give a Bible study on any of the major Seventh-day Adventist doctrines as long as you didn’t ask me about context.
One who has a general knowledge of where things are located in scripture.
One who vigorously affirms a particular high view of inspiration.
One who is acquainted with the various higher critical methodologies.
One who knows the original languages.
One who knows the related history and literature along with the Bible story.
One who can place any particular story into the broader story of scripture.
(No, I didn’t plan to make that seven. It just happened.)
When I refer to “experiencing” a definition, I mean that I’ve seen someone tacitly dismiss someone else as knowledgeable because they lack one of these elements. I’ve encountrred this attitude about every one of these points. “If he or she doesn’t know x, the person is biblically illiterate.”
I have encountered this with regard to creation. When someone discovers that I accept the theory of evolution, they will suggest that I am unacquainted with Genesis 1 & 2. I am very acquainted with those chapters. In fact, I had to memorize them as one of those long passages in school. Memorizing them does not mean that I will interpret them the same way others do.
I fell into the trap myself recently. I was listening to Deanna Thompson respond to her award for book of the year from the Academy of Parish Clergy for her commentary on Deuteronomy in the Belief series. She confessed that she did not read Hebrew. My initial reaction was to think that it wasn’t really possible for someone to contribute to the interpretation of Deuteronomy (of all things!) without reading Hebrew. Yet right within her brief remarks accepting the award, she expressed some rather profound understanding. I mentally took it back and was glad I had only thought it internally.
This experience does not make me think that learning Hebrew is unimportant. It just makes me think more carefully about what I expect. I have no problem with the value of most of these benchmarks of knowledge. I think they’re important. But what is it that I want the average person in the pew to know? What about my church leaders? Pastors (if we make a distinction)? Seminary professors?
My own definition would be close to #7. I think hearing the overall story of scripture is critical to everything else. Fit the passage into a broad view of the whole. Of course, this type of knowledge might well look superficial to others.
My suggestion would be simply that we pay attention to what type of biblical literacy a person has, if any. Far too many people in the church could really claim none of these elements. We should work on that. But we should also recognize other approaches and what kind of knowledge those other approaches support.
The following is a sermon I presented at the Unitarian-Universalist Church of Pensacola on September 11,2005 and originally posted here on September 13, 2005. I’m reposting it because when I went to look for it, I found that the original post had somehow been truncated, and also because there is a one word at a time blog carnival today on the word fences.
It was 4 years ago that we woke to the news of the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the failed attack on one unknown target. That morning, all of our lives were changed. Those who felt complacent were shaken. Terrorism before that was largely something that happened somewhere else. It happened either to other people, or only to those people courageous, or some of us probably thought stupid enough, to travel to the wrong places. For most Americans, however, it was somebody else’s problem.
Then the twin towers fell. Terrorism was no longer somebody else’s problem, something we could conveniently dismiss from our minds, assuming those responsible would take care of it. Terrorism and our national response to it became a topic of nearly everyone’s conversation and thinking.
As a result of that day, many things have happened. Decisions have been taken. Diplomatic (and not so diplomatic) missions have been launched. We’ve launched two foreign wars. We’ve reorganized and combined government departments. We have had changes in our national laws, intended by their authors to increase our security and make us safer.
To be specific, we did the natural thing. We started to build fences.
My question to you is this: After all of these activities, are we safer now than we were four years ago?
I’d like to suggest that you look at New Orleans right now as you try to answer that question. We have experienced four years of reorganization, which were supposed to have resulted in providing us with a new, extraordinarily efficient form of response to disaster. Besides being able to predict and thus prevent many terrorist attacks, we were supposed to be able to contain the results and prevent mass destruction.
Well, we have had a disaster. It wasn’t a surprise attack by terrorists. It wasn’t an unpredictable natural disaster. In fact, I watched the development of the computer models and the projected paths of Hurricane Katrina as the storm approached, and the forecasts were extraordinarily accurate and clear. We had warning. Insofar as one can have time when a hurricane is approaching, we had time.
But if the results appear to anyone to be exceptionally efficient, if those results are what one would expect after a crash program of reorganization, training, and planning, then I would guess that person has exceptionally low standards.
The results don’t live up to the expectation.
What is the problem? How can so much energy be expended in a cause with so little in the way of positive results?
Let me suggest that what we are watching is simply all the reasons why political and social action often fail to achieve their intended results, but we’re seeing it in exceptionally large scale.
Economist Henry Hazlitt, in his little book “Economics in one Lesson” says that almost all errors in economics result from seeing issues with two narrow a view and over two short a time frame. Now there are some people who would likely claim that Hazlitt himself made a few of those errors, one of which may have been naming a book “Economics in one Lesson.” I think he had a point. But he didn’t go far enough.
I’d like to add to the principle these words: . . . and assuming that things that make us feel better necessarily solve actual problems.
Let’s apply it to politics and social action. Most errors or failures in social action result from looking at the situation from too narrow a viewpoint, over too short a time frame, and assuming that what makes us feel good necessarily solves the actual problem.
See, I’m wordy. It would take me at least two lessons to teach all of economics.
Near the end of the 1988 movie “A Fish Called Wanda” there is a wonderful scene in which a man, played by Michael Palin, who has been put upon and trodden under through the entire movie finds himself driving a steam-roller towards his now helpless tormenter, a former CIA agent played by Kevin Kline. Kline’s character has his feet stuck in setting cement. “Revenge!” cries Palin’s character as he rolls over his tormenter. Having crushed his tormentor, he finds that his stutter is cured, his self-confidence restored, and in the best tradition of comedy, he lives happily ever after. So does the steam-rollered victim, for that matter, so all’s well. Revenge accomplished, life is sweet.
But what about real life?
Does this happen in real life? Well, part of it does. After I accepted the invitation to speak today, and chose the topic, I began to feel that the universe was conspiring to provide me with illustrations. Last time I spoke here, I led with an illustration from the mouth of Pat Robertson. It seems that Pat Robertson only opens his mouth to switch feet. I really didn’t want to use him as an illustration again, but he volunteered, he really did!
Expressing his annoyance with Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, Pat Robertson suggested the U. S. should assassinate him. Quoting Robertson:
You know, I don’t know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we’re trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it. It’s a whole lot cheaper than starting a war.
As a Christian, my immediate thought was that while perhaps I don’t know about this doctrine of assassination, I do recall something about a commandment somewhere or other, and then there’s Jesus’ comment that if one is even angry with someone, one has already committed murder—murder in one’s own heart.
With that in mind, consider the response of the so-called Christian right. Well, perhaps you won’t be able to consider it, because in effect there was none. It took days for anything to happen, and then the primary response was to criticize the media for jumping on Robertson for “making a mistake.” In my personal activity online, I exchanged messages in an online forum with a pastor who required several exchanges before he would even acknowledge that it would be morally wrong, and not merely a mistake, to assassinate the freely elected leader of another country.
And here I thought that was a no-brainer!
But recall again the statement of Jesus: Murderous anger is the equivalent of murder. I’ve found that many people who most loudly proclaim their intention to follow the teachings of Jesus are least likely to actually want to take those teachings seriously. Let’s see how it worked in this case.
When finally pushed to an apology, Robertson said:
“Is it right to call for assassination?” Robertson said. “No, and I apologize for that statement. I spoke in frustration that we should accommodate the man who thinks the U.S. is out to kill him.”
guess it’s OK to call for an assassination as long as you’re frustrated. Please don’t let anyone suggest that a media-savvy man, trained as a minister, can accidentally call for murder. Sorry Jesus! We’ve decided to reverse your command. We’re not avoiding the murderous anger; we’re using mere frustration as an excuse!
Now you may be thinking that I’m talking about things that are far away from home. I suspect none of you are in danger of following Pat Robertson. But I want us to notice two things: This “solution” results from thinking in the short term—it suggests we get rid of one man, as though President Hugo Chavez was personally responsible for all the problems of Venezuela, or at least all the problems the United States has with Venezuela. It results from looking at the situation narrowly—there’s this guy who annoys us, so we get rid of him. We can ignore the real nature and breadth of the problem. We don’t have to answer the question of why Latin American countries tend to distrust Americans. Lastly, it solves the problem by satisfying a personal desire for revenge. It would make ole Pat feel better, but it would not really solve anything.
It would, I believe, be the equivalent of fence building
I’m actually thankful to Pat Robertson for providing this example. Sure, he’s far out. It’s a terrible thing to propose murder. But all he’s really done is taken some very common policy reactions and carried them out to their logical conclusion, stripped away their disguise, and laid them out boldly for all to see.
And it is likely that somebody in government has suggested precisely the same thing. Hopefully their plan was rejected outright.
War almost always operates in precisely the way that Pat Robertson’s statement did. I sometimes teach classes on the biblical book of Revelation. There are people all over who are seeking timelines and detailed predictions about the end of the world. They are pretty much all wrong, and their wrongness has been repeatedly demonstrated, but that doesn’t keep them from trying.
But they generally miss the point of some of the symbols. For example, there are the four horses of the apocalypse. I recently asked a class I was teaching to compare the four horses to the war in Iraq. Let me cite some key phrases to show you what I mean:
2And I looked, and there was a white horse, and the one who was sitting on him had a bow, and he was given a crown, and he came for conquering and setting out to conquer.
3And when he opened the second seal, I head the second living creature saying, “Come!” 4And another horse went out, and this one was red, and authority was given to the one who sat on it to take peace from the earth, so that people would kill one another, and he was given a very large sword.
5And when he opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” And I looked, and there was a black horse, and the one who sat on him had a balance in his hand. 6And I heard something that was like a voice in the middle of the four living creatures saying, “A measure of wheat for a denarius and three measures of barley for a denarius, yet do not hurt the oil and the wine.”
7And when he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” 8And I saw a pale horse, and the one who sat on him was named “Death” and Hades followed along with him, and authority was given to them over the fourth part of the earth to kill with the sword and with famine and with plague, and by means of the beasts of the earth.
As the troops entered Iraq there was almost a euphoria amongst the American people. Peace activists watched the start of the war with some discouragement, as President Bush’s popularity topped 80%. The white horse was “conquering and setting out to conquer.” But who could have doubted that the traditionally “military” part of the war would be easy? Surely nobody imagined that the ragged Iraqi military was going to seriously challenge an invasion from the premier army on earth!
But shortly after we started to see the non-traditional warfare. The second horse takes peace from the earth. People began to die in substantial numbers.
The third horse impacts the economy. We didn’t see that part here in the United States as much, but the people of Iraq saw considerable hardship as means of distribution were destroyed.
The fourth horse is named Death, and Hades follows him. The fourth horse watches the count of the dead increase.
Now I’m not suggesting that the author of Revelation predicted the Iraq war. What I’m suggesting he did was tell us in literary and symbolic language what war is like. One goes into a war on the white horse, glorious, bands playing and flags flying. But before it’s over the horse is pale, we’re surrounded by death, and Hades is following. Perhaps hell is actually a human invention—but unfortunately not merely an invention of the mind, but a result of our actions.
War is building fences. It’s solving the immediate problem without looking toward the ultimate solution.
The key here again is that what we intend is not what we get.
I would suggest that unlike the story in “A Fish Called Wanda” we do not live happily ever after, our problems are not solved, and the momentary emotional high doesn’t last.
But I think as a nation we have been living the life of Michael Palin’s character.
It’s the traditional response.
When threatened by people from the Arab world we put up barriers. Sometimes barriers are necessary. But barriers help stabilize things temporarily. They don’t finally solve the problem.
After Saddam Hussein fell, who did we think was going to create a stable, lasting government in Iraq?
Once the barriers have been created, people have been arrested, terrorists have been placed in long-term storage in Guantanamo, and Americans have been identified, cataloged and tracked, we still must ask what is going to make the world better. What actually solves the problem.
We haven’t made any progress on that!
What we need to do is fundamentally change the way we think as a nation. Let me challenge you with a story of my goat Carraway.
When I was about 12 I kept goats. I had four of them, and we surrounded them with an electric fence. I will suggest that if anyone wants to keep goats, they should just invest in a solid, non-electric fence. The goats are either more determined, or in some cases more intelligent than the fence.
Carraway was more intelligent than the fence.
Three of my goats would attack the fence head on. They looked at the wires. They tested them. Eventually they would work up their courage and go straight at it. They would protest the shock, but they wouldn’t let it stop them. They looked at the fence in the traditional way, the way I wanted them to look at it.
The fourth, Carraway, took a completely different approach. She would go all around the fence, looking for places where the ground was lower, and provided more space. She would observe the fence carefully for a long time. Inevitably she would find the weakness, and then she would move her body just so, dipping ears and tail at precisely the correct moment, and she’d be out without so much as a spark from the fence.
Carraway looked at the spaces. The other goats looked at the wires. She looked at the fence in a different way than I did.
I’m challenging myself, and you, to be like that goat. Don’t be forced into looking at things from the “expected” direction. The fence maker wants you to look at the boards or the wires. Don’t get caught! Look for the spaces!
One time there was a picket fence
with space to gaze from hence to thence.
An architect who saw this sight
approached it suddenly one night,
removed the spaces from the fence,
and built of them a residence. (Source: The Picket Fence by Christian Morgenstern)
I believe we need architects of the spaces, people who take the spaces and build with them.
This isn’t something new. There have been quite a number of architects of the spaces that I can hold up as examples. I’m going to stick with the traditions with which I’m most familiar, but there are many in other traditions as well. There’s no shortage. We just often have difficulty following them.
In the 6th century BCE the anonymous prophet scholars generally call “2nd Isaiah” proclaimed in Judaism the notion that God didn’t care just about Israel, but cared about the whole world. He took a space from the fence. The exiles who returned to Judea after the preaching of 2nd Isaiah entered into the most isolationist and exclusive period in Jewish history.
In the first century CE Jesus took another space when he said, “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you.” Afterward he was crucified, and his followers often have chosen to kill one another over interpretations of his words. Nonetheless many have found inspiration in his words to help them see and use the spaces.
In the 19th century, Siyyid Ali Muhammad, known as il Bab (the gate), had the idea that God wasn’t finished with the world with the revelation of the Qur’an. He believed that people of many religions could work together, that they had much in common. He was the forerunner who opened the way for Baha’ullah, founder of the Baha’i faith. He was executed, but he opened the way for a faith that still lives on.
In the 20th century, Gandhi got the idea that one could resist evil without using violence. He spent his life standing against all violence, even when engaged in by his own followers. He was assassinated, and his beloved India was divided, but he has provided an inspiration to many.
But the architects of the spaces don’t have to be important people, or do earth-shattering things.
In our living room one day there was a group of young people discussing the film “The Passion of the Christ.” They talked about how they couldn’t understand the opposition to the film. It was just telling the story of a fundamental element of their faith. I’m somewhat disengaged from time to time, and wasn’t involved, but my wife poked me in the side, “You need to say something,” she said.
So I asked the young folks to think about the picture from the Jewish point of view. I told them about the passion plays in the middle ages that would whip people into a frenzy after which they would go out and kill Jews, take their possessions and destroy their homes.
Afterward they said, “Wow! That gives us another view. I guess we need to be careful and considerate in how we speak of this!”
I took a space from the fence, and did some building with it.
When Americans were in trouble, tiny Sri Lanka gave a donation of $25,000, which they said was just symbolic. But it symbolized something very important. It said, “We’re not a country of victims, waiting for help from you more important Americans. We’re part of a world community in which nations help one another.
They grabbed one of those spaces and built with it. And there are many more examples.
In the disaster in New Orleans, I see something positive that might emerge. It’s a space from the fence that I hope we can pull out and build with. People are beginning to realize that we still have a tremendous prejudice against people who are poor. I hope this recognition will help us to change that.
Let’s take this space from the fence and build with it!
How can we make it work?
Well, I continue to challenge you to be like Carraway the goat. No matter what the forces of hate throw at you, no matter how they try to box you in, no matter what they come up with to stop you, refuse to think the way they think. Never be limited by the narrow thinking of your opponents.
Let’s frustrate the forces of hate by coming at them with love. Instead of shouting “Revenge!” as we roll over them, we can shout “Peace” as we approach, looking for a way to help.
This is a topic where I tend to make just about everyone uncomfortable. Long time readers may recall a previous discussion of speaking in tongues, and my own experience of it. Those who expect me to be intellectually oriented and rational are uncomfortable with mystical experiences, and many who are comfortable with the mystical experiences are deeply troubled by my tendency to analyze.
But the fact is that I am one person, i.e. the same person who examines data about the historical Jesus and expresses skepticism of some of the details recorded in the gospels also claims to experience the risen Jesus in a personal way. So when Adrian Warnock started talking about the experience of Holy Spirit baptism, I decided to say a word or two.
I’m not going to defend my particular theology in this post, but let me simply state that I believe that Holy Spirit baptism can, and ideally should occur at the time of one’s baptism in to the Christian faith. Nonetheless in the book of Acts we have numerous instances where the two experiences are separated. I believe nobody comes to Christ in the first place without the work of the Holy Spirit, but the idea of the baptism of the Spirit involves one personally experiencing and being transformed by it.
At the same time I want to guard against the notion that this experience is singular, that one checks off the boxes of conversion, then baptism in the Holy Spirit, and then one has attained. I don’t like the idea of Christians who have “attained.” I think they tend to fall quickly into pride. I know I would, so if I ever get to the point where I believe I have attained, it will be the surest sign that I haven’t. I know I’d fall straight into spiritual pride without passing Go or collecting my $200.
I do remember a specific experience at the time of my own baptism at age nine. I was in Mexico with my missionary parents and had to convince them and a Spanish speaking pastor that I knew what I was doing. It was the strong conviction that had come on me that made me able to do so. They were very skeptical.
But I want to discuss a later experience, that came when I was working in the church. This happened several years ago. I was trying to get material written for the early stages of Pacesetters Bible School, and I would be interrupted frequently. But one week almost the whole church staff including the pastor was going to be out of town on a mission trip, and I was looking forward to a week of writing with few interruptions. It was not to be.
One of the things about “mystical” or “spiritual” experiences that I have noticed is that they do not occur for my convenience. My Monday of that week happened as I had hoped. I got a great deal done. On Tuesday I was praying through my prayer list. I had an extensive prayer list, and was quite systematic about praying for the people on it. Having checked off my list, I felt that I had done my part in praying for the congregation.
Included on my list were all the college students and all the church leaders. As I began praying through the list that day I was interrupted by a voice. Now all the more intellectual folks and those who are not Christians are permitted here to doubt my sanity. I generally just assume it’s loosely attached. But I did hear a voice. It said, “Stop.”
So I stopped a moment and then started to pray for that person again. Again, I heard “Stop!” Then the voice began to question me about these persons. What were their gifts? Regarding the students it asked me what they were studying, when they would be finished, and what their ambitions were. For the church leaders it asked me what their specific roles were.
Now the fact is that I didn’t know most of this stuff. They were on the staff or on committees, or they were students, so their names were on my list. I didn’t have a clue as to who they were personally. Then the voice asked me, “How do you expect to function as a teacher in the church if you don’t even know what these people are supposed to be doing?”
Good question! But I’m a stubborn person. I argued with that voice for the remainder of the week, from during the morning Tuesday through around noon Friday. By noon Friday I was pretty much done. I think I had a mild idea of how Elijah must have felt when God said, “What are you doing here?” (1 Kings 19:9)
What happened at noon on Friday? Finally I admitted that I needed to change the way I did business. I was all in the books. I planned curriculum according to what I thought people (in general) needed to know. I didn’t really want to know the people themselves. That was messy and took up too much time.
It was a transforming moment in ministry for me. I may be insane to argue with a voice for several days. Each day I returned to the office intending to work, and it didn’t happen. When I shut down and went home, things went back to normal. But that insanity was transforming. People noticed the difference. They would ask me, “Who are you and what have you done with Henry Neufeld?” The main obvious difference was that I started taking a personal interest in people’s lives, their call, and their work in the church. I started to try to meet those needs.
Now this seems fairly obvious in hindsight. Isn’t that simply good people skills? But at the time I didn’t exercise that variety of people skills, and due to my knowledge in other areas, and basic teaching skill, people put up with me anyhow. It took this spiritual encounter–in my view an experience of baptism–completely being overpowered–by the Holy Spirit to get me on track.