The Gospels are stories. That seems like an obvious statement, but making it may help us understand how to become better readers of these stories. Instead of viewing them only as historical records of what happened in Jesus’ life and ministry, we should treat them more for what they are; stories written for the purpose of communicating to their audiences how to live as disciples of Jesus.
Because these ancient texts are stories, they have the characteristics of other narratives that we might encounter. They have plot and conflict. They use time and space for literary purposes. But perhaps the most important feature that these narratives have is the way they present characters as models of how to live and how not to live.
For example, the disciples, who are the most prominent characters other than Jesus, actually serve more often as examples not to follow. They are frequently portrayed as bumbling idiots who never really understand Jesus’ mission and their role as followers of Jesus.
Yet, there are characters in the Gospels that we need to see clearly even though we might skip over them in our casual reading of these narratives. These characters are considered minor characters, for they only briefly appear in the narratives. Yet, when we carefully read the Gospels, we actually discover that these minor characters serve as major models that often express the ideals of what it means to follow Jesus.
These characters are for the most part people who seem insignificant. They are often not named. They are also those who are on the outside of normal existence in the first century world as many of them are shunned from community because of their illness, their impurity, their gender, and their economic plight. They are unimportant people. Yet, they are the ones to whom we should look to discover what it means to be a disciple of Jesus.
We could spend a great deal of time looking at each of these minor characters and how each one teaches us how to follow Jesus, in contrast to the twelve men who follow Jesus. But, in this reflection, I want to highlight one woman who plays a significant role in epitomizing what it means to follow Jesus, even though she is not in the company of his closest friends.
In my last Lenten reflection, I wrote about Jesus’ actions in the temple and how his actions declared an end to the temple because of how corrupt it had become and how the temple structure worked to exclude others.
As we move from that scene in Mark 11 and encounter the scene of Mark 12, we find Jesus in the temple courts, teaching and answering theological questions. But just before he leaves the vicinity of the temple, Jesus sits and watches folks bring in their tithes and offerings to the temple treasury.
We are not sure why he was doing this. Perhaps he was confirming what he already knew about the temple; that it really was a place of corruption and that those who gave to the temple really only brought their gifts in order to be seen doing so.
But, as he watches the wealthy bring their gifts into the temple, Jesus notices a woman that no one else sees. While others stood around watching the rich bring in their elaborate gifts, receiving praise for what they have given, Jesus notices a poor widow come in and lay onto the treasury a small coin.
Those of us who have grown up in church are very familiar with this woman. Indeed, we have become even more familiar with her gift, referred to as the “Widow’s Mite”. Who among us cannot remember hearing this story when we were children attending Sunday School?
But like many of the stories that we learn from childhood, the story of this woman may have become so familiar to us that it simply becomes part of the lore of our faith instead of what it is intended to do: Confront us with our own greed and call us to sacrificial giving.
It is important to notice that this story comes at the end of Jesus’ presence in the temple; a presence that was highly emotional and disruptive. He had spoken boldly and judgmentally against the temple practices, and the leaders were set on putting him to death. Yet, just before he commends the widow for her gift and then leaves the temple courts, he makes one more important theological statement about the law givers of Israel.
He questions their theology by questioning the reading of scripture and their interpretation of who the Son of David is. Yet, more poignantly, he judges their ethics and offers a strong warning to his disciples about the teachers of the law. While these law givers might show much public piety in their teachings and in their interpretations of scripture, they devour widow’s houses. They act unjustly against widows, and we can assume others on the margins of the first century Jewish society.
Maybe this is why Jesus notices and draws attention to the widow who gives all she has. Not only is she a model of faithfulness and sacrificial giving, giving all she has to live on, which is what she has left after the rich and powerful have taken her other possessions, she does so without regard to how she has been treated by them or without regard for her own needs. She models the very actions of Jesus.
While the teachers of the law spout off this theological interpretation and that theological proposition, and while they create laws by which people must demonstrate their faithfulness, they act in direct opposition to the purposes of God by not acting justly towards others.
What a contrast of characters! Those thought to be so theologically astute and spiritually pious before the public are actually facing the judgment of God, while the woman who is not noticed by anyone except that she brings so very little to give, is actually the true model of discipleship.
Jesus points to this woman and tells his disciples that she is the model of faithfulness. Instead of listening to the preachers who preach theological propositions, pay attention to and follow the actions of this character who lives the kingdom of God of righteous and social justice.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Lent Reflection: Is the Church an Inclusive Place of Prayer for All?
Mark’s portrayal of Jesus and his disciples heading toward Jerusalem is both an important literary device and a theologically rich motif for the plot of the narrative. But the question we should ask is: Why were Jesus and his disciples headed to Jerusalem? The answer highlights once again the theme that Jesus and his disciples were working at cross-purposes.
Of course, the exchange between Jesus and the two brothers, James and John, that we saw in Mark 10, may indicate that at least these two disciples believed Jesus was going to Jerusalem to become the King of Israel, and that they would participate as members of his royal court. However, it does seem likely that the group that followed Jesus for the most part probably thought they were going to Jerusalem as faithful Jews making their annual pilgrimage to David’s city and to the temple to celebrate the Passover.
But, as Mark tells his version of the story, it seems that as Jerusalem comes closer into view, Jesus does not intend to enter the city as the kind of king the disciples hoped for. Nor does he come to Jerusalem simply as a Jewish pilgrim; one among many pilgrims making their way to the holy place.
Indeed, as Jesus and his band step closer to Jerusalem, it begins to become clear that he intends to enter Jerusalem as one sent to challenge the authorities for their religious tyranny, their abusive power, and perhaps mostly for their lack of justice toward the poor and marginalized. In fact, he is so set on taking this action against them that he has accepted that what he will say and do in Jerusalem will lead to his suffering death at their hands.
There is no event more significant in demonstrating Jesus’ intentions than that which takes place in Mark 11, when Jesus arrives at the temple. Of course, anyone familiar with the biblical story knows full well the importance of the temple for Jewish religious life. The temple stood as a beacon for faithful Jews of the first century and as a constant reminder of God’s promise and presence with them.
Yet, the temple was also the seat of political power for the Jewish religious leaders. In being the center of power for the ruling elite of Israel, the temple was a place in which segments of Israel’s population could not enter, and thus, those shutout could not participate in the full religious life of Judaism. Gentiles, women, those suffering from various infirmities, and other marginalized peoples were forbidden from full inclusion and participation.
Many modern readers of the story of Jesus’ actions in the temple interpret the meaning behind what he does in the temple and what he says about the temple as merely a spiritual message. In other words, we like to think that Jesus is confronting the religious establishment on spiritual grounds alone. Moreover, some understand what Jesus does as a refutation of Judaism. But both of these interpretations miss the point of Jesus’ action.
While it is true that there is indeed a spiritual thrust to Jesus’ acts against the temple, that thrust coincides with, and perhaps even follows from what Jesus feels about the political and economic abuses that were taking place there. There was clearly a political and economic structure to the temple that cut out and even abused the poor, while at the same time functioning as a “den of thieves.” But Jesus will have nothing of it. He speaks harshly against what is happening in the temple, and he reminds the hearers of the original intent of the temple to be a place of prayer for all peoples of the world.
Yet, what is particularly interesting about his actions in the temple is the way Mark tells us how these events developed. Jesus goes into the temple late on one day, looks around, and then leaves until he returns the next day, when he begins to overturn the tables. Why does Jesus do this, and why is it important for Mark to tell us these details?
The straightforward answer seems to be that Jesus was determined that his actions against the temple be witnessed by a large crowd; larger than the one that may have been there late on the first day. His actions can thus be defined as symbolic action that was intended not only to challenge the religious-political elite and their abuses, but also to publicly call for an end to the temple practices themselves. It was an action that called for a halt to what was taking place in the temple, and a negation of the belief that God approved of what was taking place in the temple.
If we interpret Jesus’ actions in the framework of his ideas about the rule of God, then we must see his actions against this center of religious and political power in Judaism as a call for the temple practices to be more inclusive. Indeed, by quoting from both the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah, Jesus is stating what the temple is suppose to be, an inclusive and welcoming community, as well as condemning what it has become, a place that not only excludes the poor and marginalized, but that also steals from them.
If segments of the population were being excluded because they were Gentile, female, poor, sick, and ritually unclean, then the temple served not as a place of prayer for all people, but as a place of exclusion, a practice that is clearly at odds with the message of Jesus.
The message of inclusion, which is at the heart of Jesus’ teaching and ministry of justice and liberation, is fundamental to the rule of God. But inclusion can only happen when the walls that divide humanity are torn down so that all God’s people may enter.
Religious, racial, ethnic, gender, and social and economic barriers are only a few that preclude God’s just rule from becoming a reality. Jesus condemned the religious leaders for using their religious power to exclude others from community with God.
Modern followers of Jesus should heed Jesus’ words and should work to create more welcoming communities of faith so that all God’s peoples may find a place of prayer. If we do not, then we are also working at cross-purposes with Jesus.
Of course, the exchange between Jesus and the two brothers, James and John, that we saw in Mark 10, may indicate that at least these two disciples believed Jesus was going to Jerusalem to become the King of Israel, and that they would participate as members of his royal court. However, it does seem likely that the group that followed Jesus for the most part probably thought they were going to Jerusalem as faithful Jews making their annual pilgrimage to David’s city and to the temple to celebrate the Passover.
But, as Mark tells his version of the story, it seems that as Jerusalem comes closer into view, Jesus does not intend to enter the city as the kind of king the disciples hoped for. Nor does he come to Jerusalem simply as a Jewish pilgrim; one among many pilgrims making their way to the holy place.
Indeed, as Jesus and his band step closer to Jerusalem, it begins to become clear that he intends to enter Jerusalem as one sent to challenge the authorities for their religious tyranny, their abusive power, and perhaps mostly for their lack of justice toward the poor and marginalized. In fact, he is so set on taking this action against them that he has accepted that what he will say and do in Jerusalem will lead to his suffering death at their hands.
There is no event more significant in demonstrating Jesus’ intentions than that which takes place in Mark 11, when Jesus arrives at the temple. Of course, anyone familiar with the biblical story knows full well the importance of the temple for Jewish religious life. The temple stood as a beacon for faithful Jews of the first century and as a constant reminder of God’s promise and presence with them.
Yet, the temple was also the seat of political power for the Jewish religious leaders. In being the center of power for the ruling elite of Israel, the temple was a place in which segments of Israel’s population could not enter, and thus, those shutout could not participate in the full religious life of Judaism. Gentiles, women, those suffering from various infirmities, and other marginalized peoples were forbidden from full inclusion and participation.
Many modern readers of the story of Jesus’ actions in the temple interpret the meaning behind what he does in the temple and what he says about the temple as merely a spiritual message. In other words, we like to think that Jesus is confronting the religious establishment on spiritual grounds alone. Moreover, some understand what Jesus does as a refutation of Judaism. But both of these interpretations miss the point of Jesus’ action.
While it is true that there is indeed a spiritual thrust to Jesus’ acts against the temple, that thrust coincides with, and perhaps even follows from what Jesus feels about the political and economic abuses that were taking place there. There was clearly a political and economic structure to the temple that cut out and even abused the poor, while at the same time functioning as a “den of thieves.” But Jesus will have nothing of it. He speaks harshly against what is happening in the temple, and he reminds the hearers of the original intent of the temple to be a place of prayer for all peoples of the world.
Yet, what is particularly interesting about his actions in the temple is the way Mark tells us how these events developed. Jesus goes into the temple late on one day, looks around, and then leaves until he returns the next day, when he begins to overturn the tables. Why does Jesus do this, and why is it important for Mark to tell us these details?
The straightforward answer seems to be that Jesus was determined that his actions against the temple be witnessed by a large crowd; larger than the one that may have been there late on the first day. His actions can thus be defined as symbolic action that was intended not only to challenge the religious-political elite and their abuses, but also to publicly call for an end to the temple practices themselves. It was an action that called for a halt to what was taking place in the temple, and a negation of the belief that God approved of what was taking place in the temple.
If we interpret Jesus’ actions in the framework of his ideas about the rule of God, then we must see his actions against this center of religious and political power in Judaism as a call for the temple practices to be more inclusive. Indeed, by quoting from both the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah, Jesus is stating what the temple is suppose to be, an inclusive and welcoming community, as well as condemning what it has become, a place that not only excludes the poor and marginalized, but that also steals from them.
If segments of the population were being excluded because they were Gentile, female, poor, sick, and ritually unclean, then the temple served not as a place of prayer for all people, but as a place of exclusion, a practice that is clearly at odds with the message of Jesus.
The message of inclusion, which is at the heart of Jesus’ teaching and ministry of justice and liberation, is fundamental to the rule of God. But inclusion can only happen when the walls that divide humanity are torn down so that all God’s people may enter.
Religious, racial, ethnic, gender, and social and economic barriers are only a few that preclude God’s just rule from becoming a reality. Jesus condemned the religious leaders for using their religious power to exclude others from community with God.
Modern followers of Jesus should heed Jesus’ words and should work to create more welcoming communities of faith so that all God’s peoples may find a place of prayer. If we do not, then we are also working at cross-purposes with Jesus.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Lent Reflection: Jesus’ kingly glory comes not in thrones of power, but in the cross of suffering.
As I have mention in my two previous Lent Reflections, one of the dominant themes in the Gospel of Mark is the journey that Jesus and his disciples travel along the road to Jerusalem, the holy city of David. With each chapter and verse of the story, we are observers as Jesus and his band of disciples move further down the road with Jerusalem coming closer into view. Indeed, in Mark 10:33, Jesus specifically tells them, “See we are going to Jerusalem.”
Most likely those who followed Jesus knew they were headed to Jerusalem; what faithful Jew would not know the direction to Judaism’s most important city. So Jesus’ acknowledgment that they are headed to Jerusalem seems out of place and unnecessary, unless the mention of the direction in which they are headed is intended to mean something.
So, the question becomes, why does Jesus state specifically that they are headed for Jerusalem? And in hearing Jesus say that they are going to Jerusalem, for what purpose did the disciples think they were headed for the holy city? Did their understanding of the trip to Jerusalem match that of Jesus?
Maybe they assumed that he would go into Jerusalem as the conquering Messiah. Perhaps they thought that when they reached Jerusalem, Jesus would take his rightful place as King of Israel and overthrow the Romans. Possibly they followed Jesus towards Jerusalem, hoping that they would be participants in this rule of Jesus in David’s city. Most likely they did believe that Jesus’ purpose in continuing on the road to Jerusalem was so that he would be made a king and, consequently, they would share in that kingly power.
This expectation is seen most clearly in the request two of Jesus’ disciples make as their band moves even closer to Jerusalem. The brothers, James and John, come to Jesus with the bold demand; “Grant us to sit, one at your right and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:37). It seems that they are aware that in heading to Jerusalem, Jesus intends to take his rightful place as the promised King of Israel, and it appears that they are very interested in securing their own places of authority, closer than any others to the seat of power.
These two disciples, and I would venture to guess the other disciples as well, seem to believe that following Jesus leads to glory, power, and prestige. They assume that by following Jesus to Jerusalem they will inherit seats of authority next to Jesus, one on his right and one on his left. Yet, these disciples, as well as the others, fail to understand that there is no glory apart from the cross that looms in Jerusalem.
Jesus had spoken to them about what would happen in Jerusalem two other times before this exchange; he would be arrested, beaten and killed. Indeed, right before James and his brother come to make their bold request to Jesus, Jesus tells all of the disciples, one more time, that he will suffer and die. But somehow they failed to hear, or better yet, refused to hear his words. Instead they continued to see the movement toward Jerusalem as a move toward power and glory and not one that would lead to suffering and death.
The specifics of the request made by the brothers should not be missed. James and John were seeking seats of authority by requesting places on the right and left of Jesus. Jesus affirms that there are such seats, but they are reserved for whom they have been prepared by God. What might he mean by his response? The clue might be found in another place in Mark.
The only other spot in Mark where people are said to be on the right and left of Jesus is in the crucifixion scene of chapter 15. In verse 27 of that chapter, we read that there were two bandits crucified with Jesus, one his right and one on his left. Moreover, just before we read of these two other crucified victims on either side of Jesus, we are told about the inscription that hung above Jesus on the cross that read, “King of the Jews”; an historical note that Mark utilizes for irony.
Whether or not this is a correct reading, it does seem reasonable to suggest that the author of Mark is tying these narratives together. In doing so, the story makes clear that those who seek places of power and glory in Jesus’ kingdom are not worthy to be crucified with him. Rather, the outcasts and the reprobate of society share in his suffering; they are his companions in death as they were in life. And, as he and his fellow criminals against the state hung on those crosses, the glory-seeking disciples were deserting him.
There is no doubt that Jesus was headed to Jerusalem to take his place as king; so in that regard James and John were correct. Yet, just like Peter’s misunderstanding of what it meant to call Jesus Messiah, the brothers failed to comprehend that the kingly glory of Jesus is found not in a worldly throne, but in his death on the cross. Jesus is crowned King in his crucifixion. And, those who are at the right and left of Jesus in glory are those who take their places on the right and left of Jesus in crucifixion. For Jesus, kingly glory comes not in thrones of power, but in the cross of suffering.
Most likely those who followed Jesus knew they were headed to Jerusalem; what faithful Jew would not know the direction to Judaism’s most important city. So Jesus’ acknowledgment that they are headed to Jerusalem seems out of place and unnecessary, unless the mention of the direction in which they are headed is intended to mean something.
So, the question becomes, why does Jesus state specifically that they are headed for Jerusalem? And in hearing Jesus say that they are going to Jerusalem, for what purpose did the disciples think they were headed for the holy city? Did their understanding of the trip to Jerusalem match that of Jesus?
Maybe they assumed that he would go into Jerusalem as the conquering Messiah. Perhaps they thought that when they reached Jerusalem, Jesus would take his rightful place as King of Israel and overthrow the Romans. Possibly they followed Jesus towards Jerusalem, hoping that they would be participants in this rule of Jesus in David’s city. Most likely they did believe that Jesus’ purpose in continuing on the road to Jerusalem was so that he would be made a king and, consequently, they would share in that kingly power.
This expectation is seen most clearly in the request two of Jesus’ disciples make as their band moves even closer to Jerusalem. The brothers, James and John, come to Jesus with the bold demand; “Grant us to sit, one at your right and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:37). It seems that they are aware that in heading to Jerusalem, Jesus intends to take his rightful place as the promised King of Israel, and it appears that they are very interested in securing their own places of authority, closer than any others to the seat of power.
These two disciples, and I would venture to guess the other disciples as well, seem to believe that following Jesus leads to glory, power, and prestige. They assume that by following Jesus to Jerusalem they will inherit seats of authority next to Jesus, one on his right and one on his left. Yet, these disciples, as well as the others, fail to understand that there is no glory apart from the cross that looms in Jerusalem.
Jesus had spoken to them about what would happen in Jerusalem two other times before this exchange; he would be arrested, beaten and killed. Indeed, right before James and his brother come to make their bold request to Jesus, Jesus tells all of the disciples, one more time, that he will suffer and die. But somehow they failed to hear, or better yet, refused to hear his words. Instead they continued to see the movement toward Jerusalem as a move toward power and glory and not one that would lead to suffering and death.
The specifics of the request made by the brothers should not be missed. James and John were seeking seats of authority by requesting places on the right and left of Jesus. Jesus affirms that there are such seats, but they are reserved for whom they have been prepared by God. What might he mean by his response? The clue might be found in another place in Mark.
The only other spot in Mark where people are said to be on the right and left of Jesus is in the crucifixion scene of chapter 15. In verse 27 of that chapter, we read that there were two bandits crucified with Jesus, one his right and one on his left. Moreover, just before we read of these two other crucified victims on either side of Jesus, we are told about the inscription that hung above Jesus on the cross that read, “King of the Jews”; an historical note that Mark utilizes for irony.
Whether or not this is a correct reading, it does seem reasonable to suggest that the author of Mark is tying these narratives together. In doing so, the story makes clear that those who seek places of power and glory in Jesus’ kingdom are not worthy to be crucified with him. Rather, the outcasts and the reprobate of society share in his suffering; they are his companions in death as they were in life. And, as he and his fellow criminals against the state hung on those crosses, the glory-seeking disciples were deserting him.
There is no doubt that Jesus was headed to Jerusalem to take his place as king; so in that regard James and John were correct. Yet, just like Peter’s misunderstanding of what it meant to call Jesus Messiah, the brothers failed to comprehend that the kingly glory of Jesus is found not in a worldly throne, but in his death on the cross. Jesus is crowned King in his crucifixion. And, those who are at the right and left of Jesus in glory are those who take their places on the right and left of Jesus in crucifixion. For Jesus, kingly glory comes not in thrones of power, but in the cross of suffering.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Lent Reflection: Mountain Top Experiences Must Lead Us Back to Real World Ministry
Have you ever been somewhere and not wanted to leave? Maybe you were asleep, and you did not want to get up. Maybe you have been at a party with friends, and you did not want to leave. Or maybe you were on vacation, and you did not want to return to work. We all have been in places and situations in which we would have loved to have stayed.
Why is this? It is probably because being in those places makes us feel better than being in the place to which we know we must eventually return: Reality. These times and situations give us escapes away from real life. Sleep is not only a time to rest our bodies; it is also a time in which we can escape reality and all our responsibilities, if for but only a few hours. Parties and times with friends are moments when we gather with people we know and love, when we do not have to deal with the problems and conflicts of the real world. Vacations are larger chunks of time in which we can literally escape from our normal lives, go somewhere totally different, and briefly forget that we have normal lives of busyness, responsibility, and frustration.
In my last Lent Reflection, I discussed the encounter between Jesus and Peter in Mark 8. There we witnessed the significant confusion between the two of them over what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Soon after this, in Mark 9, we are again privileged to witness and participate in the intimate experience of Jesus being with his disciples, except in this scene he is with his three closest disciples, James, John, and Peter. They have pulled away from the others to make their way up the mountain where Jesus will be transfigured.
Mountains were vitally important to prophets of the ancient world, for mountains, in the minds of the ancients, closed the gap between the physical world of earth and the spiritual world of heaven. Of course, one of the most famous biblical stories that tells of a prophet going up a mountain is when Moses is on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments. Mountains were places of divine experience and divine revelation.
As the story unfolds, we are told not only of the presence Jesus and his three followers on the mountain, but we also learn of the appearance of two heroes of Israel’s faith, Elijah and Moses. As Jesus is transfigured before James, John, and Peter, both Moses and Elijah appear alongside of Jesus, and the three figures carry on a conversation.
I can imagine how astonished and perplexed these three disciples must have felt. Yet, at the same time, I can imagine that such an experience was one that they wanted to last for a long time. In fact, Peter says as much when he tells Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Peter was enjoying the pleasure of the place and the situation so much, that he wanted to stay on that high mountain, where he found escape from the real world.
Peter is much like us when we are at places or in situations that offer us feelings of joy and happiness; we really do not want to return to the real world. Being on that mountain took them away from the pain, the struggles, and the challenges of living in the real world and their mission of carrying out real life ministry. Separating themselves from the world allowed them to think they were closer to God than if they engaged the world where people suffer. These feelings caused Peter to want to stay on that mountain of joy and exuberant spiritual experience instead of returning to the road of discipleship, where real world ministry must take place.
We Christians have a tendency to pull ourselves away from the world in very permanent ways. We establish schools that separate our children from real life encounters with those who need grace. We establish Christian businesses as ways to ensure that we do not support those who are not Christian. We draw theological boundaries around our congregations that insolate us from any thoughtful engagement with the world around us. There are many ways in which we arrogantly isolate and insulate ourselves from the world where real ministry takes place.
For sure, we are called to pull away from the world so that we can gain strength from God, when we can listen for and hear the voice of God. But we can never stay on the mountain. We can never escape our call to live God’s mission for us in this world.
While Jesus understood that there are times when we need to escape the pressures of life and shut out the voices of our hectic and complicated lives in order to hear the voice of God, he also understood that we must always return to the reality of life. For Jesus and for us, it means getting back on the road of discipleship; back on the road that leads to the cross.
Why is this? It is probably because being in those places makes us feel better than being in the place to which we know we must eventually return: Reality. These times and situations give us escapes away from real life. Sleep is not only a time to rest our bodies; it is also a time in which we can escape reality and all our responsibilities, if for but only a few hours. Parties and times with friends are moments when we gather with people we know and love, when we do not have to deal with the problems and conflicts of the real world. Vacations are larger chunks of time in which we can literally escape from our normal lives, go somewhere totally different, and briefly forget that we have normal lives of busyness, responsibility, and frustration.
In my last Lent Reflection, I discussed the encounter between Jesus and Peter in Mark 8. There we witnessed the significant confusion between the two of them over what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Soon after this, in Mark 9, we are again privileged to witness and participate in the intimate experience of Jesus being with his disciples, except in this scene he is with his three closest disciples, James, John, and Peter. They have pulled away from the others to make their way up the mountain where Jesus will be transfigured.
Mountains were vitally important to prophets of the ancient world, for mountains, in the minds of the ancients, closed the gap between the physical world of earth and the spiritual world of heaven. Of course, one of the most famous biblical stories that tells of a prophet going up a mountain is when Moses is on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments. Mountains were places of divine experience and divine revelation.
As the story unfolds, we are told not only of the presence Jesus and his three followers on the mountain, but we also learn of the appearance of two heroes of Israel’s faith, Elijah and Moses. As Jesus is transfigured before James, John, and Peter, both Moses and Elijah appear alongside of Jesus, and the three figures carry on a conversation.
I can imagine how astonished and perplexed these three disciples must have felt. Yet, at the same time, I can imagine that such an experience was one that they wanted to last for a long time. In fact, Peter says as much when he tells Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Peter was enjoying the pleasure of the place and the situation so much, that he wanted to stay on that high mountain, where he found escape from the real world.
Peter is much like us when we are at places or in situations that offer us feelings of joy and happiness; we really do not want to return to the real world. Being on that mountain took them away from the pain, the struggles, and the challenges of living in the real world and their mission of carrying out real life ministry. Separating themselves from the world allowed them to think they were closer to God than if they engaged the world where people suffer. These feelings caused Peter to want to stay on that mountain of joy and exuberant spiritual experience instead of returning to the road of discipleship, where real world ministry must take place.
We Christians have a tendency to pull ourselves away from the world in very permanent ways. We establish schools that separate our children from real life encounters with those who need grace. We establish Christian businesses as ways to ensure that we do not support those who are not Christian. We draw theological boundaries around our congregations that insolate us from any thoughtful engagement with the world around us. There are many ways in which we arrogantly isolate and insulate ourselves from the world where real ministry takes place.
For sure, we are called to pull away from the world so that we can gain strength from God, when we can listen for and hear the voice of God. But we can never stay on the mountain. We can never escape our call to live God’s mission for us in this world.
While Jesus understood that there are times when we need to escape the pressures of life and shut out the voices of our hectic and complicated lives in order to hear the voice of God, he also understood that we must always return to the reality of life. For Jesus and for us, it means getting back on the road of discipleship; back on the road that leads to the cross.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Lent Reflection: “Who do You Say that I am?”
We all know that in the English language words that are spelled the same or sound the same can have various meanings. For example, the word spring has three different meanings. A spring can be a source of water, a thing inside of a bed mattress, or a season of the year. If you were to use one of these words, I would need to know exactly how you were using it in order to understand what you meant.
In Mark chapter 8, we see a similar misunderstanding happen between Jesus and Peter. In 8:27, Jesus and his disciples are said to be “on the way,” a common motif in Mark’s Gospel. While we are not told where they are headed at this time in story, later we will understand that they are on the way to Jerusalem.
As they travel, the disciples are most likely thinking that their going to Jerusalem will be the event that will usher in the new kingdom of God, because Jesus will take his rightful place as king. Perhaps they follow him, not so much because they are committed to him, but because they are hopeful that they will participate in the ascension of Jesus as the new king over Israel.
And so we find Jesus and his disciples on the way to Jerusalem. It is on this road where we see the true character of the twelve as opposed to the true mission of Jesus. It is on the road to Jerusalem that we discover the disciples’ misunderstanding of Jesus.
It all starts with a simple question posed by Jesus, “Who do people say that I am?” The stories of Jesus’ acts of greatness were becoming known, and talk was running throughout the land about him. And now, on the way, Jesus wants to know if people have come up with an answer. The disciples answer, “Some say you are John the Baptist, and others Elijah, and still others one of the prophets.”
But Jesus seems uninterested in the opinions of those outside his intimate friends. His first question is more for the purpose of setting up his second and more important question, “Who do you say that I am?” He knew what others were saying about him, but he wanted those who had been closest to him to give their opinions. He wanted to know who Jesus was to them.
Peter, a person never at a loss for words, answers for the group, “You are the Messiah.” To paraphrase Peter, he is saying, “You are God’s anointed one, sent to bring in God’s victory over God’s enemies. You are the chosen one of God sent to restore the people of Israel to their rightful place, and to become king over the nation.”
Does Peter understand this correctly about Jesus? The answer is yes and no. Yes, Jesus is the Messiah, the one chosen and anointed by God. And, yes, Jesus is bringing in the kingdom of God and he will bring God’s victory over God’s enemies. And, yes, Jesus is going to Jerusalem to do this. But this is not the full story.
Though it seems that Peter understands who Jesus is, he does not completely understand. Like the blind man in the story just before this exchange, the one Jesus had to touch twice to heal him of his blindness; Peter sees who Jesus is, but not clearly. Jesus must touch Peter a second time, hoping that he will see clearly.
The second touch of Jesus comes in verses 31-33, where Jesus clarifies what it means for him to be the Messiah. Here, Jesus predicts what will happen when they get to Jerusalem. He must die a cruel death. By Jesus predicting that he must undergo great suffering, he is telling the disciples that it is by God’s will that he goes to Jerusalem and suffers.
Yet, in Peter’s response to this prediction, we see what Peter really believes about the Messiah and what he understands about Jesus. He rebukes Jesus. We do not know what Peter said to Jesus, but we do know that Peter had a different idea of Messiah, and he was intent on persuading Jesus not to go the way of the cross.
But Jesus is stern in his response to Peter’ rebuke, rebuking him and calling him Satan. Peter, at this point, takes on a different role in Jesus’ life. For a moment in time, Peter moves from being a disciple of Jesus, to being the one who tempts Jesus from his God ordained mission. And Jesus confronts Peter for who he truly is and for what he truly thinks.
What has motivated Peter to think this way? What has caused him to misunderstand Jesus and his ministry? What has pushed him to the point of tempting Jesus? Most probably it is what this meant for him. If Jesus, the Messiah of God, was to suffer and die in Jerusalem, then what did that mean for his followers?
In response to Peter’s misunderstanding, Jesus turns to all those around him to define what discipleship means. Instead of looking forward to the glory of kingship, followers of Jesus are to take up their cross and prepare themselves to suffer with their Messiah. The kingdom of God is not about human power and kingship; it is about divine power and kingship which is only and fully revealed in the cross of suffering. Power is not saving one’s life, but losing it. Influence is not being first, but being last. Authority is not gaining the world, but sacrificing one’s life.
This whole exchange between Peter and Jesus started because Peter misunderstood what Messiah meant. Oh, he had the words right, and he rightly confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. But what good is it to call Jesus Messiah when we misunderstand what this means.
In Mark chapter 8, we see a similar misunderstanding happen between Jesus and Peter. In 8:27, Jesus and his disciples are said to be “on the way,” a common motif in Mark’s Gospel. While we are not told where they are headed at this time in story, later we will understand that they are on the way to Jerusalem.
As they travel, the disciples are most likely thinking that their going to Jerusalem will be the event that will usher in the new kingdom of God, because Jesus will take his rightful place as king. Perhaps they follow him, not so much because they are committed to him, but because they are hopeful that they will participate in the ascension of Jesus as the new king over Israel.
And so we find Jesus and his disciples on the way to Jerusalem. It is on this road where we see the true character of the twelve as opposed to the true mission of Jesus. It is on the road to Jerusalem that we discover the disciples’ misunderstanding of Jesus.
It all starts with a simple question posed by Jesus, “Who do people say that I am?” The stories of Jesus’ acts of greatness were becoming known, and talk was running throughout the land about him. And now, on the way, Jesus wants to know if people have come up with an answer. The disciples answer, “Some say you are John the Baptist, and others Elijah, and still others one of the prophets.”
But Jesus seems uninterested in the opinions of those outside his intimate friends. His first question is more for the purpose of setting up his second and more important question, “Who do you say that I am?” He knew what others were saying about him, but he wanted those who had been closest to him to give their opinions. He wanted to know who Jesus was to them.
Peter, a person never at a loss for words, answers for the group, “You are the Messiah.” To paraphrase Peter, he is saying, “You are God’s anointed one, sent to bring in God’s victory over God’s enemies. You are the chosen one of God sent to restore the people of Israel to their rightful place, and to become king over the nation.”
Does Peter understand this correctly about Jesus? The answer is yes and no. Yes, Jesus is the Messiah, the one chosen and anointed by God. And, yes, Jesus is bringing in the kingdom of God and he will bring God’s victory over God’s enemies. And, yes, Jesus is going to Jerusalem to do this. But this is not the full story.
Though it seems that Peter understands who Jesus is, he does not completely understand. Like the blind man in the story just before this exchange, the one Jesus had to touch twice to heal him of his blindness; Peter sees who Jesus is, but not clearly. Jesus must touch Peter a second time, hoping that he will see clearly.
The second touch of Jesus comes in verses 31-33, where Jesus clarifies what it means for him to be the Messiah. Here, Jesus predicts what will happen when they get to Jerusalem. He must die a cruel death. By Jesus predicting that he must undergo great suffering, he is telling the disciples that it is by God’s will that he goes to Jerusalem and suffers.
Yet, in Peter’s response to this prediction, we see what Peter really believes about the Messiah and what he understands about Jesus. He rebukes Jesus. We do not know what Peter said to Jesus, but we do know that Peter had a different idea of Messiah, and he was intent on persuading Jesus not to go the way of the cross.
But Jesus is stern in his response to Peter’ rebuke, rebuking him and calling him Satan. Peter, at this point, takes on a different role in Jesus’ life. For a moment in time, Peter moves from being a disciple of Jesus, to being the one who tempts Jesus from his God ordained mission. And Jesus confronts Peter for who he truly is and for what he truly thinks.
What has motivated Peter to think this way? What has caused him to misunderstand Jesus and his ministry? What has pushed him to the point of tempting Jesus? Most probably it is what this meant for him. If Jesus, the Messiah of God, was to suffer and die in Jerusalem, then what did that mean for his followers?
In response to Peter’s misunderstanding, Jesus turns to all those around him to define what discipleship means. Instead of looking forward to the glory of kingship, followers of Jesus are to take up their cross and prepare themselves to suffer with their Messiah. The kingdom of God is not about human power and kingship; it is about divine power and kingship which is only and fully revealed in the cross of suffering. Power is not saving one’s life, but losing it. Influence is not being first, but being last. Authority is not gaining the world, but sacrificing one’s life.
This whole exchange between Peter and Jesus started because Peter misunderstood what Messiah meant. Oh, he had the words right, and he rightly confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. But what good is it to call Jesus Messiah when we misunderstand what this means.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
We can Hope in God’s Good Providence Despite Suffering
Anyone who is even slightly observant about the happenings in our world must draw the conclusion that there is indeed great suffering across God’s creation. From the abject poverty millions face each day, to the wars that continue to rage, to the natural disasters that wreak havoc on our world, we witness many problems in our world that call us to question God’s providence. Of course, in more recent weeks we have observed the enormous and unthinkable suffering of the people of Haiti as a result of an earthquake that may shake our faith in God.
But even in our personal lives we find that there are times when we experience the reality of human suffering. We face the death of loved ones, the pain of illness, the loss of employment, and the brokenness of relationships torn apart. All of us could list times and situations in life that cause us to question the providence of God. Indeed, as I have written in the past, the suffering we witness each day and the trials we face personally ought to cause us to question God’s providence, even protest against God, just as Jesus did from the cross.
Yet such questioning does not necessarily prevent us from trusting in God’s good providence. Yes, many who have suffered or who have witnessed great suffering have abandoned a belief in God, arguing that if God exists, then why is there suffering? But the suffering of our world, no matter how devastating, does not automatically negate the existence of God or the belief in God’s good providence.
But how shall we understand the idea of God’s providence? If we are to hold on to our faith in God’s goodness while we witness evil and suffering, even as we bring serious accusations and questions against God, how are we to comprehend God’s good providence during these times?
First, God’s providence should not be confused with some sort of arbitrary manipulation of things that happen in this world. God is not a puppeteer and we are not God’s puppets. Nor should we see God’s providence as a fixed fate in which the world runs like a machine. Indeed, we are wrong to assume that God has predetermined all that happens.
Moreover, it is not theologically appropriate to respond to such suffering, whether we experience it or someone else faces it, with misguided platitudes such as, “This happened for a reason.” In my mind, this statement, and many others like it, only mock God’s providence.
The biblical story informs us that God’s good providence flows from God’s sovereignty over creation. To say that God is sovereign is to say God exists apart from anything else; God has no beginning and no ending. Moreover, to say that God is sovereign is also to affirm that God is both the creator and sustainer of all.
Thus, God’s sovereignty over creation means that creation, and particularly humanity, finds its existence, its being, its meaning and purpose, and its life and death in the eternal and good will and work of God. That very purpose leads us to understand that to assert that God is sovereign is to say that God is moving and shaping creation toward God’s divine and righteous will, even as that will and purpose is significantly challenged by the power of evil and suffering.
But we must be careful in making this assertion into an absolute that is applicable to every instance of human pain and suffering. God’s providence is not so much God’s control of everything that happens. Indeed, it is hard for us to assume and believe that God controls everything. There is too much pain and suffering in the world for us to believe this. Rather, God’s providence is God’s will and work in this world to achieve God’s purposes for all of creation and particularly humanity, even as God struggles against the chaos itself.
If we look at the way the writers of the New Testament speak about the death of Jesus, we come away with the theological interpretation that Jesus’ tragic and painful death was a result of God’s will and purpose as much as it was the workings of a Jewish trial and a Roman execution. Taking such a view of Jesus as their Messiah was surely an outrageous move on the part of Jesus’ followers, for such an interpretation was not what the people of Israel envisioned for their Messiah.
Yet, such an interpretation, for them and for us, points us to the real power of God’s providence. Though Jesus suffered death, and God was unable to stop such death, the providence of God is more fully realized as a result of Jesus’ death. Because of Jesus’ suffering and death at the hands of evil, God was able to cause resurrection and hope.
In other words, in response to the evil which God could not prevent, God raised Jesus from death. Thus, in the providence of God, God reached through the death of Jesus to bring resurrection and hope; a hope that fuels our persistent trust in God’s good providence even as we continue, with God, to struggle against evil.
But even in our personal lives we find that there are times when we experience the reality of human suffering. We face the death of loved ones, the pain of illness, the loss of employment, and the brokenness of relationships torn apart. All of us could list times and situations in life that cause us to question the providence of God. Indeed, as I have written in the past, the suffering we witness each day and the trials we face personally ought to cause us to question God’s providence, even protest against God, just as Jesus did from the cross.
Yet such questioning does not necessarily prevent us from trusting in God’s good providence. Yes, many who have suffered or who have witnessed great suffering have abandoned a belief in God, arguing that if God exists, then why is there suffering? But the suffering of our world, no matter how devastating, does not automatically negate the existence of God or the belief in God’s good providence.
But how shall we understand the idea of God’s providence? If we are to hold on to our faith in God’s goodness while we witness evil and suffering, even as we bring serious accusations and questions against God, how are we to comprehend God’s good providence during these times?
First, God’s providence should not be confused with some sort of arbitrary manipulation of things that happen in this world. God is not a puppeteer and we are not God’s puppets. Nor should we see God’s providence as a fixed fate in which the world runs like a machine. Indeed, we are wrong to assume that God has predetermined all that happens.
Moreover, it is not theologically appropriate to respond to such suffering, whether we experience it or someone else faces it, with misguided platitudes such as, “This happened for a reason.” In my mind, this statement, and many others like it, only mock God’s providence.
The biblical story informs us that God’s good providence flows from God’s sovereignty over creation. To say that God is sovereign is to say God exists apart from anything else; God has no beginning and no ending. Moreover, to say that God is sovereign is also to affirm that God is both the creator and sustainer of all.
Thus, God’s sovereignty over creation means that creation, and particularly humanity, finds its existence, its being, its meaning and purpose, and its life and death in the eternal and good will and work of God. That very purpose leads us to understand that to assert that God is sovereign is to say that God is moving and shaping creation toward God’s divine and righteous will, even as that will and purpose is significantly challenged by the power of evil and suffering.
But we must be careful in making this assertion into an absolute that is applicable to every instance of human pain and suffering. God’s providence is not so much God’s control of everything that happens. Indeed, it is hard for us to assume and believe that God controls everything. There is too much pain and suffering in the world for us to believe this. Rather, God’s providence is God’s will and work in this world to achieve God’s purposes for all of creation and particularly humanity, even as God struggles against the chaos itself.
If we look at the way the writers of the New Testament speak about the death of Jesus, we come away with the theological interpretation that Jesus’ tragic and painful death was a result of God’s will and purpose as much as it was the workings of a Jewish trial and a Roman execution. Taking such a view of Jesus as their Messiah was surely an outrageous move on the part of Jesus’ followers, for such an interpretation was not what the people of Israel envisioned for their Messiah.
Yet, such an interpretation, for them and for us, points us to the real power of God’s providence. Though Jesus suffered death, and God was unable to stop such death, the providence of God is more fully realized as a result of Jesus’ death. Because of Jesus’ suffering and death at the hands of evil, God was able to cause resurrection and hope.
In other words, in response to the evil which God could not prevent, God raised Jesus from death. Thus, in the providence of God, God reached through the death of Jesus to bring resurrection and hope; a hope that fuels our persistent trust in God’s good providence even as we continue, with God, to struggle against evil.
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Motives Behind Robertson’s Theological Lunacy
As many know by now, Pat Robertson, televangelist and aging leader of the 700 Club, has once again spoken from his ignorance about an appalling tragedy; this time inferring that the earthquake that hit Haiti was God’s judgment for Haiti’s past pact with the devil (Robertson's Comments). You will recall that both he and Jerry Falwell came out after the events of September 11, 2001 proclaiming that God was judging America. Robertson continued that refrain after the devastation of hurricane Katrina.
After learning of Robertson’s recent remarks, I commented to someone that I had thought about responding to his theological blunder, but I decided that I did not want to waste my time on this so-called preacher who often acts more like the proverbial crazy uncle that says things that makes the rest of the family cringe. However, after some reflection on his statement, and the growing inner compulsion I felt to remind folks that he is not a legitimate Christian leader, I have decided to offer some measure of response.
Many others have written very well thought out replies to this theological lunatic, and so I do not want to repeat what they are saying. But the question that keeps coming to my mind concerning his way of thinking when he responds to these kinds of tragedies is, “Why does Robertson, and others like him, feel the need to make these sorts of statements?”
I am not really sure I can fully answer this question, but it seems to me that there is some motivation behind these sorts of comments that tells us something more about the way these misguided preachers think. In other words, terrible happenings like the earthquake in Haiti serve as opportunities for these kinds of folks to preach their off-kilter theology, and it seems that they will not allow these opportunities to pass without sharing what they believe about God, regardless of the damage it will cause.
In my opinion, I believe that one significant motivation for Robertson to make such statements is the need he feels to offer a theological cause and effect explanation to such catastrophic events, instead of accepting that these events have natural causes. He feels the need to frame these events as actions of God, for not to do so would scandalize God, at least in his thinking, as less than sovereign over creation. If these events happen because of the way the natural world works, then God must not be in control. Thus, Robertson and his kind must take up the slack for God, making certain that we all know that this tragedy happened because God willed it to happen.
At the heart of this way of thinking is a very anti-science mentality that stems from the battles these religious fanatics have had over evolution versus creationism, or as it is known by its codeword, intelligent design. If science can better explain why these events happen, then science might better explain other realities, such as the origin of the physical world. And that scares the hell out of folks like Robertson.
Yet, perhaps a deeper reason for Robertson stating that things like earthquakes and hurricanes are acts of God’s judgment is that he feels the need to ensure that God remains the supreme God. Of course, by invoking God as the force behind these events, Robertson means the Christian God, and primarily the Christian God that has been fashioned by Western Civilization, and particularly by the Puritanism of early America.
And yet, perhaps at the heart of both the anti-science motivation as well as the need to remind everyone that “God is still sovereign,” is the continuation of the archaic and theologically inept idea that human suffering, even devastating suffering that is set off by natural causes, is the result of human sin. Robertson’s theology is totally predicated on the idea that humans are born into sin and the suffering that comes upon us is a result of being sinful humans. But is this a reasonably sound explanation?
I am not suggesting that we do not sin. The empirical evidence seems clear enough that we do; although I am not sold on the idea that we are born into sin (see my post: Are We Really Born Sinners?). Moreover, I cannot argue against the fact that some tragic events are a result of human sin, such as the atrocities carried out on September 11, 2001. But that was due to the sin of the attackers and not the sin of those being attacked.
For Robertson and his fellow religious conservatives to say that earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters that cause considerable human suffering are a result of human sin does not hold much theological weight, for there is no cause and effect relationship. Whether his statements are explicit or he infers this relationship, he is way off base from a theological perspective.
But if Robertson’s theological explanations are significantly askew, what should be our theological response to the tragedy in Haiti? The problem in answering this question is that we tend to offer overly simplistic explanations to these kinds of things, which is what Robertson himself is doing.
Yet, a reasonable and faithful theological response to such human suffering calls us to deep reflection about human suffering and the place of God in that suffering. It calls us to look at the cross of Jesus to learn the practice of protest against God that Jesus voices at his death, as well as to embrace the idea that the cross serves as a reminder that when humanity suffers, God suffers with us. In this sense, instead of God being the judge who sends this catastrophe in judgment for sin, God should more appropriately be viewed as living in the midst of and suffering with these victims.
But perhaps more importantly, this event must remind us of two theologically sound ideas. First, life is a gift and it should be lived in such as way that we value not the things that rust and decay, but that we value that which is eternal. And second, these kinds of events must remind us that we live in solidarity with those who suffer, and as such, we are called to do all we can to lift them up out of their despair and pain to find strength and hope. In other words, instead of invoking God’s name in judgment, we are more theologically sound by invoking God’s name in love and compassion.
For me, Pat Robertson is the poster child of misguided and ignorant theology. To put it mildly, he is a theological idiot. I hate having to waste my time on responding to his comments and I hope that most people will ignore his remarks. But, to those who believe he represents Christianity and the Christian God, let me say clearly that he does not.
After learning of Robertson’s recent remarks, I commented to someone that I had thought about responding to his theological blunder, but I decided that I did not want to waste my time on this so-called preacher who often acts more like the proverbial crazy uncle that says things that makes the rest of the family cringe. However, after some reflection on his statement, and the growing inner compulsion I felt to remind folks that he is not a legitimate Christian leader, I have decided to offer some measure of response.
Many others have written very well thought out replies to this theological lunatic, and so I do not want to repeat what they are saying. But the question that keeps coming to my mind concerning his way of thinking when he responds to these kinds of tragedies is, “Why does Robertson, and others like him, feel the need to make these sorts of statements?”
I am not really sure I can fully answer this question, but it seems to me that there is some motivation behind these sorts of comments that tells us something more about the way these misguided preachers think. In other words, terrible happenings like the earthquake in Haiti serve as opportunities for these kinds of folks to preach their off-kilter theology, and it seems that they will not allow these opportunities to pass without sharing what they believe about God, regardless of the damage it will cause.
In my opinion, I believe that one significant motivation for Robertson to make such statements is the need he feels to offer a theological cause and effect explanation to such catastrophic events, instead of accepting that these events have natural causes. He feels the need to frame these events as actions of God, for not to do so would scandalize God, at least in his thinking, as less than sovereign over creation. If these events happen because of the way the natural world works, then God must not be in control. Thus, Robertson and his kind must take up the slack for God, making certain that we all know that this tragedy happened because God willed it to happen.
At the heart of this way of thinking is a very anti-science mentality that stems from the battles these religious fanatics have had over evolution versus creationism, or as it is known by its codeword, intelligent design. If science can better explain why these events happen, then science might better explain other realities, such as the origin of the physical world. And that scares the hell out of folks like Robertson.
Yet, perhaps a deeper reason for Robertson stating that things like earthquakes and hurricanes are acts of God’s judgment is that he feels the need to ensure that God remains the supreme God. Of course, by invoking God as the force behind these events, Robertson means the Christian God, and primarily the Christian God that has been fashioned by Western Civilization, and particularly by the Puritanism of early America.
And yet, perhaps at the heart of both the anti-science motivation as well as the need to remind everyone that “God is still sovereign,” is the continuation of the archaic and theologically inept idea that human suffering, even devastating suffering that is set off by natural causes, is the result of human sin. Robertson’s theology is totally predicated on the idea that humans are born into sin and the suffering that comes upon us is a result of being sinful humans. But is this a reasonably sound explanation?
I am not suggesting that we do not sin. The empirical evidence seems clear enough that we do; although I am not sold on the idea that we are born into sin (see my post: Are We Really Born Sinners?). Moreover, I cannot argue against the fact that some tragic events are a result of human sin, such as the atrocities carried out on September 11, 2001. But that was due to the sin of the attackers and not the sin of those being attacked.
For Robertson and his fellow religious conservatives to say that earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters that cause considerable human suffering are a result of human sin does not hold much theological weight, for there is no cause and effect relationship. Whether his statements are explicit or he infers this relationship, he is way off base from a theological perspective.
But if Robertson’s theological explanations are significantly askew, what should be our theological response to the tragedy in Haiti? The problem in answering this question is that we tend to offer overly simplistic explanations to these kinds of things, which is what Robertson himself is doing.
Yet, a reasonable and faithful theological response to such human suffering calls us to deep reflection about human suffering and the place of God in that suffering. It calls us to look at the cross of Jesus to learn the practice of protest against God that Jesus voices at his death, as well as to embrace the idea that the cross serves as a reminder that when humanity suffers, God suffers with us. In this sense, instead of God being the judge who sends this catastrophe in judgment for sin, God should more appropriately be viewed as living in the midst of and suffering with these victims.
But perhaps more importantly, this event must remind us of two theologically sound ideas. First, life is a gift and it should be lived in such as way that we value not the things that rust and decay, but that we value that which is eternal. And second, these kinds of events must remind us that we live in solidarity with those who suffer, and as such, we are called to do all we can to lift them up out of their despair and pain to find strength and hope. In other words, instead of invoking God’s name in judgment, we are more theologically sound by invoking God’s name in love and compassion.
For me, Pat Robertson is the poster child of misguided and ignorant theology. To put it mildly, he is a theological idiot. I hate having to waste my time on responding to his comments and I hope that most people will ignore his remarks. But, to those who believe he represents Christianity and the Christian God, let me say clearly that he does not.
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