Archives for November 2016

Psalm 138:1–5:  Although this psalm opens conventionally with praise—”I acclaim You with all my heart“—at first glance the second line is puzzling: “before gods I hymn to You.” (1b) Is the psalmist really worshiping God as just one among all these small-g gods? Perhaps he is writing in a place cluttered with idols (Babylon, Israel?) and knows that they are worthless artifacts when compared with worshipping the one true God.

In any event, this psalm quickly returns to its theme of worshipping God, who is of course at the temple in Jerusalem, for his two great qualities, his love and that he is the source of all truth: “I bow toward Your holy temple,/ and I acclaim Your name/ for Your kindness and Your steadfast truth.” (2)

Moreover, for this poet, God heard his prayer and responded: “On the day I called You answered me./You made strength well up within me.” (3) In this heightened awareness of God having answered, the psalmist engages in prophecy that echoes the ideas expressed in Isaiah: at some point every person on earth will come to know God. He is confident that “All the kings of the earth will acclaim You Lord./ For they have heard the words of Your mouth.” (4)

And when that happens, the psalmist will not be worshipping God by himself, but the leaders of all the earth will join in: “And they will sing of the ways of the Lord,/ for great is the Lord’s glory.” (5) This is a marvelous picture of a world to come where the lion has indeed laid down with the lamb and there will be no more war. But alas, that time still seems to be far off, although as the Creeds say, we wait with expectation.

 1 Kings 21:17–22:28: At long last, Ahab will enjoy the just desserts of his self-centered combination of avariciousness and general cluelessness which drive him to evil. Elijah is instructed by God to go to Ahab and pronounce his doom: “You shall say to him, “Thus says the Lord: In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood.”  (21:19)

Ahab seems unsurprised at Elijah’s arrival as the prophet hurls the words of God’s judgement at the king—one of the really great prophetic imprecations we find in the Bible: “Because you have sold yourself to do what is evil in the sight of the Lord, I will bring disaster on you; I will consume you, and will cut off from Ahab every male, bond or free, in Israel,” (21) as Elijah goes on to inform the king that his progeny will enjoy the same fate as the houses of Jeroboam and Ahijah. The same shameful  fate will befall Jezebel as well: “‘The dogs shall eat Jezebel within the bounds of Jezreel.” (23)

At this point, apparently feeling their readers haven’t fully comprehended Ahab’s and Jezebel’s true evil natures, the authors feel compelled to point out parenthetically that of all the crimes committed by his predecessors, Ahab is worse: “ (Indeed, there was no one like Ahab, who sold himself to do what was evil in the sight of the Lord, urged on by his wife Jezebel. He acted most abominably in going after idols, as the Amorites had done, whom the Lord drove out before the Israelites.)” (25, 26)

Upon hearing Elijah’s words, Ahab seems to repent, donning sackcloth and going about “dejectedly” (27) In what I view as a an editorial device to align this account of Ahab’s evil with the more mundane facts of what actually happened, our authors assert that because of Ahab’s apparent redemption, God amends the king’s fate, telling Elijah that “I will not bring the disaster in his days; but in his son’s days I will bring the disaster on his house.” (21:29)

A three year peace with Aram ensues and the king of Judah, Jehoshaphat, comes to Ahab, who suggests that they go to war together and reclaim Ramoth-gilead from Aram. Jehoshaphat agrees, but advises that they pray about it first. Four hundred Israel prophets tell the kings they should go to battle, but Jehoshaphat remains unconvinced and asks, Ahab, “Is there no other prophet of the Lord here of whom we may inquire?” (22:7) Ahab suggests they consult with a certain Micaiah.

Micaiah arrives. A court official advises Micaiah to fall in line with the other prophets: “the words of the prophets with one accord are favorable to the king; let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favorably.” (13) But Micaiah resists the advice , telling the official that he will speak whatever God tells him to say.

Unsurprisingly, Micaiah is the exception and announces that they will lose the battle. The ever-whiny Ahab tells Jehoshaphat, “Did I not tell you that he would not prophesy anything favorable about me, but only disaster?” (22:18) Following an odd aside that God was seeking a way to “entice” Ahab to foolishly go into battle, Micaiah goes against the popular wisdom and goes on to explain that God is the one who “has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets; the Lord has decreed disaster for you.” (23)

For his troubles, Micaiah is tossed into prison, too often the fate of those who go up against conventional wisdom. But I have a feeling he will have the last prophetic laugh.

If ever we needed an example of how a narcissist see the world, it’ right here: For Ahab, it’s all about him. The other lesson of course is that personalities focused solely on themselves do not “get” how the real world actually works and make foolish decisions, especially when they have rejected God and firmly placed their own personalities as the center of the universe.

John 19:38–20:9: Jospeh of Arimathea, a disciple of Jesus, albeit a secret one, asks Pilate for Jesus’ body. Nicodemus joins Joseph, bringing a hundred pounds of emollients with which to wrap Jesus body. John goes to some length here to describe how “the body of Jesus [was] wrapped with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews.” (19:40) This is not only custom but reminds us that Jesus was truly dead and could never have escaped the wrapping had he merely been unconscious, as some resurrection scoffers have suggested.

What I hadn’t appreciated before is that they chose the tomb based on its convenient location and that time was running out before sunset, which would prevent further activity: “because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.” (19:42)

In this gospel, it is only Mary Magdalene who comes to the tomb and discovers the “the stone had been removed from the tomb.” (20:1) She runs to get Peter and John (once again that self-referential literary device to avoid giving his name as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.”) In an amusing autobiographical note, “The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.” (20:4) But John only peers inside the tomb, seeing the linen wrappings. Ever impetuously brave/foolhardy, Peter hurries inside the tomb first. In keeping with the fundamental theme of this gospel, John then enters the tomb and “and he saw and believed.” (20:8)

John  believed, but he did not fully comprehend the enormity of what had happened. As our author points out, “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” (9) I think at a conceptual level John believed that what Jesus had said about himself, but the concept of the resurrection that he heard Jesus talk about in the upper room was a lot different than the physical reality of the Resurrection. He saw evidence of something that was (and remains) unprecedented in history. No wonder he simultaneously believed and remained puzzled.  I think that is how we have to approach the Resurrection as well. In fact I think the intertwining of belief and puzzlement is a pretty good operating definition of faith itself.

 

 

Psalm 137: This saddest psalms was doubtless written shortly after the Babylonian conquest of Judea in 586 BCE and the exiled captivity of much of its population. The wounds are fresh as these singers, who once danced and sung with joy, are in a strange and foreign land:
“By Babylon’s streams,
there we sat, oh we wept,
when we recalled Zion.
On the poplars there
we hung up our lyres.” (1, 2)

The Babylonians, in a festive mood and knowing these captives are musicians, want to hear some of this foreign music:
“For there our captors had asked of us
words of song,
and our plunderers—rejoicing:
‘Sing us from Zion’s songs.’” (3)

But for the Jewish musicians, these “songs of Zion” are sacred liturgy and intended to be sung in the temple, not here beside some foreign river. They ask rhetorically, “How can we sing a song of the Lord/ on foreign soil?” (4)

Rather than singing, they yearn only the sweet memories of Jerusalem, their true home:
“Should I forget you, Jerusalem,
may my right hand wither.
May my tongue cleave to my palate
if I do not recall you.” (5,6)

Memory transforms itself to intense bitterness at what their captors have done, which quickly morphs into a desire for revenge: “Daughter of Babylon the despoiler,/ happy who pays back in kind/ for what you did to us.” (8) The psalm ends not only in despair but in unfathomable outrage expressed in a bloodcurdling curse—not only on those who have asked them to sing, but on all of Babylon. If we ever needed the verbal expression of a despair so deep that it results in words so evil, it is right here: “Happy who seizes and smashes/ your infants against the rock.” (9)

As we have observed before, one finds every human feeling in the Psalms, and there is no more intense feeling of hatred mixed with despair than right here.

1 Kings 20:22–21:16: While the Israelites may have won the battle, the war with the Arameans is far from over. The advisors to the king of Aram suggest that the king replace his drunken allies with experienced military men, and that they will have the advantage by fighting on the plain rather than in the hills.

Israel gathers its troops, but in comparing them to the vastness of the Aramean army, our authors employ a striking simile: “the people of Israel encamped opposite them like two little flocks of goats, while the Arameans filled the country.” (20:27) However, a prophet shows up and informs Ahab that since the Arameans believe God is not present on the plains, “I will give all this great multitude into your hand, and you shall know that I am the Lord.” (28)

After a week of tense standoff, the Israel army strikes and kills 100,000 Aramean foot soldiers in a single day. Defeated, Ben-hadad dons sackcloth and appears before victorious Ahab, begging for mercy, which he receives from the weak-minded king.

The authors shift to the weird story of a prophet who has been told by God to have other prophets strike and wound him. One prophet who understandably refuses, is eaten by a lion for his disobedience. The second prophet, seeing what happened to the first, strikes and wounds the prophet as instructed. The wounded prophet disguises himself as a wounded soldier and encounters Ahab. He rips off his disguise; Ahab recognizes him as a prophet, who informs the king that having failed to kill Ben-hadad, “your life shall be for his life, and your people for his people.’” (20:42) The king returns to Samaria, “resentful and sullen.” (43)

Back home, Ahab demands that his neighbor Naboth sell his vineyard that’s adjacent to the palace so he can plant a vegetable garden. Nahoth refuses, telling the king that its his ancestral inheritance. Ahab, mature adult that he is, is once again “resentful and sullen.” (21:4)

Jezebel asks Ahab why he’s depressed and the king tells her about Naboth’s refusal. She tells him to cheer up and that she’ll take care of the Naboth problem for him. Jezebel drafts the other nobles to invite Naboth to dinner. Two “scoundrels brought a charge against Naboth, in the presence of the people, saying, “Naboth cursed God and the king.” (21:13) So they take the hapless Naboth out and stone him to death. Jezebel sweetly informs Ahab that Naboth’s land is now available because “Naboth is not alive, but dead.” (21:15)

One can only shake one’s head at the ebormous cupidity and evil this vile couple is capable of doing. Ahab is obviously putty in Jezebel’s hands. One also wonders why the authors are spilling so much scribal ink over these two. I have a feeling a lesson is in store for Ahab, Jezebel, and we who are reading this ugly story.

John 19:25–37: Our gospel writer shifts his attention away from the dying Jesus to the women standing nearby. Jesus sees his mother and “the disciple whom he loved“—clearly a reference to John himself—and “said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’” (26) And likewise “to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” (27) This is an example of the brilliance of this gospel: that Jesus’ concern for others is greater than even his dying agony. Has there ever been a scene in all literature that so beautifully juxtaposes the most hideous of deaths with such sweetness in so few words?

Jesus gasps, “I am thirsty,” and is given bitter wine. Which, this being the gospel of many layers, is for me a symbolic reversal of the wine Jesus poured for his disciples at the Last Supper. Just as the miracle of the wine at Cana opened Jesus’ earthly ministry; the bitter wine thrust at him closes it as he utters his last words, “It is finished.” (30)

The Jews ask that the legs of the condemned be broken to insure they are dead and can be taken down and buried before the sun sets. But the soldiers “came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs.” (33) Instead, a soldier famously pierces his side and “at once blood and water came out.” (34) I don’t think it’s a stretch to see this emanation as the symbols of the two great sacraments of the church: the blood of the Eucharist and the water of baptism.

John concludes his account of the crucifixion by telling his readers, “These things occurred so that the scripture might be fulfilled.” (36) He ties the facts that Jesus legs were not broken and that his side was pierced back to Hebrew scripture. Writing from a distance of almost 100 years, John can illuminate the symbolic importance of this last act. But for those standing around the cross, including his mother, it is only tragedy piled on tragedy. At this point in the story, all hope is lost and the despair was certainly as great as that of the musicians weeping alongside the river of Babylon.

 

Psalm 136: This rather odd thanksgiving psalm seems to be a Hebrew “call and repeat” hymn of the kind heard in African-American churches. Every one of its 26 verses ends with the same line, “for His kindness is forever.”

Following an introduction wherein the psalmist calls on the singers to “Acclaim the Lord, for He is good;” (1) “Acclaim the greatest God” (2); and “Acclaim the greatest master” (3) the remainder of the hymn recounts a history of how God intervenes for Israel, beginning at creation.

First, there is creation. God is the one “Who makes the heavens in wisdom” (5) and “Stamps firm the earth on waters” (6) Then to the Passover. God is the one, “Who strikes Egypt in its firstborn” (10) and “brings Israel from their midst.” (11). Then to the escape into the wilderness, “Who split the Reed Sea into parts,” (13) and “Who led His people in the wilderness.” (16).

The forty years of wandering is not mentioned and the psalm comes directly to the conquest of Canaan: “Who struck down great kings” (17) and “killed mighty kings” (18) including “Sihon the Amorite” (19), and “Og, king of the Bashan.” (20) These victories result in God’s gift of “their land as an estate.” (21)

For me, the most significant aspect of this litany is that the psalmist remembers God’s forgiveness after Israel’s many sins and that God rescues them again and again:
“Who recalled us when we were low,
for His kindness is forever.
And delivered us from our foes,
for His kindness is forever.” (23, 24)

As God did for Israel, so, too, through Jesus Christ, God does exactly the same for us today. Indeed, as we know some 2500 years after this psalm was written, “His kindness is forever.”

1 Kings 20:1–21: Ben-hadad, the king of Aram and his 32 allies decide to attack Israel. He sends a message to Ahab demanding his wives, children, and all his worldly treasures as the price of Samaria to avoid being attacked. Ahab consults with his elders about what to do and they advise the king, “Do not listen or consent.” (8) Ben-hadad replies that he has as many soldiers as the number of handfuls of dust in Samaria (an interesting comparison), Ahab shoots back, “Tell him: One who puts on armor should not brag like one who takes it off.” (11)

Ben-hadad, now drunk, instructs his soldiers to take their positions and invade. Meanwhile “a certain prophet” (Obidiah? Elisha?) tells Ahab that God has told him, that Ahab can be victorious, “Look, I will give it into your hand today; and you shall know that I am the Lord.” (13) But this victory will come only if Ahab initiates the battle. Ahab, brilliant army commander that he is not, asks the prophet who should go out and fight. The prophet tells him the “young men who serve the district governors.” (14) Then he asks, who should start the attack. The prophet relies with a single word, “You.”

Ahab musters 232 governors and 7000 Israel soldiers. And they go out. Ben-hadad and his 32 allied kings are drunk. When Ben-hadad’s scouts report that soldiers have emerged from Samaria, he instructs them to take the soldiers alive whether they have come out for peace or for war. Clearly, this king was befuddled by alcohol.

The district governors kill the 32 allied kings, but Ben-hadad escapes. Finally, Ahab himself goes on the attack and Israel enjoys a victory, and they “defeated the Arameans with a great slaughter.” But it appears that Ben-hadad has escaped to fight another day

So, the question hangs in the air: if Ahab is so evil, why does God give him this victory over a drunken enemy? I guess there’s more to the story to follow.

John 19:12–24: Pilate is desperate to release Jesus because he realizes a gross miscarriage of justice is about to occur on his watch and he will be viewed in Rome as the governor who screwed up. And of course, his fear was exactly correct as his infamy has been remembered down through the centuries.

Pilate cannot placate the chief priests, who in their final shouts to crucify Jesus, claim “We have no king but the emperor.” (15) Pilate’s attempt at justice has come to naught and he orders Jesus to be taken away and be crucified.

Our gospel writer omits the gory details of the crucifixion, focusing instead on the placard Pilate had placed on the cross, whereby in one sense he gets the last laugh over the Jewish religious authorities. Written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, the sign reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” (19) The chief priests are incensed and demand that Pilate have the sign edited to read, “‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” (21) But Pilate refuses, saying only “What I have written I have written.” (22) For our gospel writer, of course, this sign has a much deeper meaning because Jesus is indeed the davidic Messiah, the king of the Jews. Alas, in their hatred, the Jewish religious authorities denied what the rest of the world knows to be reality.

Contrary to all the paintings of the crucifixion, Jesus was naked when crucified. Jesus’ clothes were ripped up into four parts and distributed among the soldiers, except for the seamless tunic. The soldiers cast lots to see who gets the robe.  John tells us that this was to fulfill Ezekiel’s prophecy, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” (24)

Our gospel writer does not tell us who won the tunic, but that incident becomes the launch point of one of the famous novels of the 19th century, Ben-Hur, written by Lew Wallace, and in 1942, The Robe, by Lloyd Douglas and the eponymous 1953 movie starring a young Richard Burton as the soldier who wins the robe.

 

 

Psalm 135:13–21: The latter half of this psalm contrasts the power of the living God with the sheer impotence of idols. Our psalmist first acknowledges God’s everlasting power across history: “Lord, Your name is forever,/ Lord. Your fame for all generations.” (13) God is not only dynamically active among his people, but is the source of righteousness and justice: “For the Lord champions His people,/ and for His servants He shows change of heart.” (14)

But, alas, much of Israel worships manmade idols: “The nations’ idols are silver and gold,/ the work of human hands.” (15) Although the idols are fashioned in human form with human features they are merely mute, blind, deaf, and ultimately powerless simulacra:
“A mouth they have and they do not speak,
eyes they have and they do not see.
Ears they have and they do not hear,
nor is there breath in their mouth.” (16, 17)

Our poet loses no time in hurling imprecations at their makers: “Like them may their makers be,/ all who trust in them.” (18). While most American homes do not have figurines which people worship, our society is awash in mute, blind, deaf idols of our own making. The trajectory of unbridled “individual rights” obtained at the cost not only of belief in God, but to the detriment of the community at large is perhaps the biggest idol of all.

The psalm concludes with praise to the living God, who brings us life with a benediction that enumerates the power structure of Israel:
“House of Israel, bless the LORD,
House of Aaron, bless the LORD.
House of Levi, bless the LORD.
Those who fear the LORD, bless the LORD.” (19, 20)

1 Kings 19: Queen Jezebel is none too pleased with Elijah’s destruction of the Baal priests and sends a threatening message to the prophet: “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” (2) Elijah understandably flees to Beersheba. Resting under a tree, Elijah clearly regrets his murderous action and asks God’s permission to die right there. Falling asleep, an angel comes to him and offers Elijah food and drink, which the prophet consumes. This angelic ministering occurs each day for forty days. Fortified, ELijah moves on. Arriving at a cave on Mount Horeb, God comes and asks Elijah what he’s doing. Elijah replies despondently that he has completed God’s mission as commanded but now faces only death at the hands of Jezebel. God replies with a dramatic display of his power over nature in the form of wind, earthquake, fire and finally, silence. [Our authors are careful to point out that God is not “in” these forces, only that they are initiated by him.] Then God speaks, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (14) [This is a question that I think God asks of each of us. What is our purpose? How are we to serve God?

Elijah answers exactly as he did before: “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” (15)

God chooses to ignore Elijah’s depressed state and instructs him to anoint Hazel as king of Aram; Jehu as king of Israel; and Elisha as his prophetic successor. God has a rather grim plan in mind: “Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill.” (17) But as always, there is God’s promise that the few faithful in Israel—7000 in number—who have not worshipped the Baals, will be spared.

Many can identify with Elijah’s deep depression. They desire to go no further but only to lay down and die. But God sends ministering angels in the form of caregivers to restore life. And sometimes, as with Elijah, there is a display of God’s power, and one’s life heads off in a new and completely unexpected direction.

Elijah finds Elisha at the plow behind 12 oxen. Elijah, in a sign that Elisha is to become his successor throws his cloak over Elisha. The young man then asks Elijah for permission to “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” (20) after which he kills the oxen and the family has a giant going-away barbecue comprised of the meat of the same 12 oxen. If we ever needed a symbol of a radical career change, this is certainly it. Elisha then “followed Elijah, and became his servant.” (24)

John 19:1–11: Pilate, in another desperate move to appease the Jewish authorities who are really annoying him,  sends Jesus off to be flogged and humiliated by the soldiers. Our gospel writer writes ironically that the soldiers “kept coming up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and striking him on the face.” (3) John’s readers understand the irony here: Jesus is in fact king of the Jews—and of the Gentiles.

Pilate brings Jesus back out, and announces “Here is the man,” which is the second of our gospel writer’s ironies: Jesus is indeed “the man” of all men. Unappeased, the mob shouts, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” (6) In a final attempt at quieting the unruly mob, Pilate tells them they can go ahead and do so, clearly implying that the responsibility for his death rests on their shoulders, not his. But the angry Jews shout back, “We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God.” (7)

Now that theology has entered the debate, things are starting to get out of hand and “when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever.” (8) He questions Jesus again, asking “Where are you from?” (9) Jesus remains silent. Pilate’s question is John’s third irony, since we know that as we read in the first chapter, Jesus is from God.

Jesus refuses to answer and Pilate shouts at him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” (10) Now Jesus answers, but to Pilate it must have sounded like religious gibberish: “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.” (11a) This is John’s fourth irony: Pilate thinks Jesus is referring to the Roman emperor, but Jesus is referring to God who controls all things, whether Jewish or Gentile.

It is Jesus’ final statement that Pilate thinks gets him off the hook: “therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” (11b)  So, who is “the one?” Pilate and history conclude it is the Jews who are guilty. And out of this statement has arisen two millennia of blaming the Jews for Jesus’ death—and worse,  two millennia of persecution of the Jews. At one level, of course, Jesus’ answer is factually correct: the Jews present in Jerusalem that day demanding his death were certainly guilty. But the sins of the father were indeed visited on the sons down through history. But is it not sinful for Christians to have sought revenge on the Jews over and over down through history? If we believe that God is a God of justice, righteousness, and yes, love, then I think Christians have committed the greater sin.

Psalm 135:1–12: There’s no question about the thrust of this psalm of praise as it opens with “Hallelujah.” Clearly, it was part of the temple liturgy, but would be just as appropriate as an opening praise song in worship this coming Sunday:
Praise the name of the Lord,
O praise, you servants of the Lord,
who stand in the house of our God.” (2)

And then an adjective that we don’t often associate with God: “hymn His name, for it is sweet.” (3b) This is surely  a reference to sweet incense, which was used in the temple, and is still used in high masses in the Catholic church and some very traditional Episcopalian churches.

The psalmist interjects a personal statement, noting that “I know that the Lord is great,/ and our Master more than all the gods.” (5) This is certainly an acknowledgement of Israel’s penchant for worshipping small-g gods. But it’s equally applicable to us today who so often place our own small-g gods ahead to the true God.

The psalm goes on to recall God as Creator, with the idea that he created everything that was needed but without excess: “All that the Lord desired He did/ in the heavens and on the earth,/ in the seas and all the depths.” (6) God knows just the right amounts that are good for us. God is the source of the weather so essential in that agrarian society: “He brings up the clouds from the ends of the earth;/ lightning for the rain He made.” (7)

This psalm has it all, as it switches to historical mode. Now, there’s a quick sketch of the Passover that brought Israel out of Egypt: “Who struck down the first born of Egypt/ from humankind to beast.” (8) It then leaps over the wilderness years to Joshua’s initial victories in Canaan because he followed God, “Who struck down many nations/ and killed mighty kings.” (10) It is God who chose them and gave the land to Israel: “And gave their land as an estate,/ an estate to Israel, His people.” (12)

Creation. Weather. Historic victories. These are the blessings of God. And we too, when we pray—especially at this time of thanksgiving—are called to include the specifics that take us down a level of abstraction and enumerate the blessings that God has brought to us in our abundance, where it is too easy to forget the source of all good things and events.

1 Kings 18: After three years of drought, God directs Elijah back to Israel to confront king Ahab. Along the way we meet Obadiah (author of the eponymous book found later in the OT), who “revered the Lord greatly,” and saved 150 prophets from Jezebel’s deadly wrath. Ahab sends Obadiah to search for water and grass. Along the way he meets Elijah, the most senior prophet. Elijah prevails on a fearful Obadiah to bring him to Ahab. Ahab and Elijah meet up, who immediately (and courageously) reminds Ahab, “I have not troubled Israel; but you have, and your father’s house, because you have forsaken the commandments of the Lord and followed the Baals.” (17) Elijah tells Ahab to meet at Mount Carmel “with the four hundred fifty prophets of Baal and the four hundred prophets of Asherah, who eat at Jezebel’s table.” (19)

Atop MountCarmel, Elijah challenges the priests of Baal, taunting them,“How long will you go limping with two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.” (20) The challenges is god mano a mano: God vs. Baal. TBoth sides sacrifice a bull and place it on their respective altars, and Elijah challenges the Baal priests,  “call on the name of your god and I will call on the name of the Lord; the god who answers by fire is indeed God.” (24)

Well, we know how this comes out because it’s a classic Sunday School story. Elijah mocks the Baal priests,“Cry aloud! Surely he is a god; either he is meditating, or he has wandered away, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” (27) The part they don’t tell kids in Sunday School is that the Baal priests in order to induce their god to respond, “cut themselves with swords and lances until the blood gushed out over them.” (29) Our authors gleefully state, “they raved on until the time of the offering of the oblation, but there was no voice, no answer, and no response.” (29)

Elijah ups the stakes by pouring water on his altar, and then he prays, “Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so that this people may know that you.” (37) God sends fire which consumes the sacrifice. The other part they don’t tell in Sunday School is that the people seize the Baal priests and Elijah kills them all.

Rain ensues and the drought ends. The lesson here is crystalline: There is only one God and the rest of the small-g gods are lifeless and powerless. Would that we remember that when we try to depend on our own small-g gods—wealth, possessions, physical fitness, technology, power—to save us. In the end, the creations of man are just as powerless as the Baal gods.

John 18:25–40: Unlike the synoptics, our gospel writer stretches out Peter’s denial and here we get the second and third denials. But John is much more cryptic than the others, writing only, “Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.” (27). He does not describe Peter’s reaction, preferring perhaps that we draw our own conclusion, causing us to reflect that were we in Peter’s place we’d likely deny Jesus, too.

The scene shifts to Pilate’s headquarters. John adds a detail I hadn’t noticed before: The Jews would not enter the Gentile’s headquarters because of ritual defilement, so Pilate comes out to them—doubtless in an impatient mood because of the Jewish rituals that seemed simply weird to him. Pilate asks what this Jesus fellow is accused of and the Jews respond, “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” (30) The Jews state that they re not allowed to execute anyone, but John does not record the exact charges they were bringing. Rather, these are implied as te charge of conspiracy to overthrow Roman rule becomes apparent in Pilate’s first question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (33) Once again, John’s Jesus is not silent. In fact, he’s not even reticent, but retorts rather cheekily, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (34) Pilate fires back that he is no Jew and asks, “What have you done?” (35)

This being the gospel of John, a philosophical dialog inevitably sues. Jesus says, “My kingdom is not from this world,” (36) going on to rather logically observe that if he were attempting to overthrow the Romans, he would have arrived in Jerusalem with an angry mob of his followers. Pilate, sensing he’s on thin legal ice, shifts from a direct question to a rhetorical one,“So you are a king?” (37) To which Jesus deflects the question and answers only that “I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” (37b) Pilate replies with another question, doubtless with world-weary resignation, “What is truth?” (38)  And of course this is the theme underlying this entire gospel because we already know the singular answer because Jesus told us: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” (14:6)

Pilate tells the Jews in no little frustration, that he finds no substantive case against Jesus. Attempting to change the subject and distract the Jews from their deadly mission, he offers, as per custom, to release a criminal, doubtless thinking that they’ll give up and let Jesus go. But the answer is not what he hoped: “Not this man, but Barabbas!” (40) So much for Roman logic and attempts to placate the Jews

What John makes clear here is that the case against Jesus—judged by Gentile law and philosophy—is specious. It also makes clear that ultimately, from the point of view of both Jewish and Gentile law, Jesus’ crucifixion was completely illegal.

Thanksgiving.

Psalm 134: This brief psalm is a blessing on those who stand the watch, especially at night:
Look, bless the Lord,
all you servants of the Lord,
who stand in the Lord’s house through the nights.” (1)

While this is intended for the temple guards who had nighttime duty, we can extend this psalm to all of those, especially first responders, who are on duty through the night, willingly wrecking their circadian rhythm: Nurses, doctors, police, firemen—and all who serve while the rest of us sleep.Thank you.

And this goes for those who must work this Thanksgiving—particularly those poor souls forced to leave their families midday and go to work in retail due to the unquenchable greediness of corporate America.

The blessing is simple and reminds us of who our creator is:
“May the Lord bless you from Zion,
He who makes heaven and earth.” (3)

No more need be sad other than this is something we should all say, whether we work during the day or all through the night.

1 Kings 16:15–17:24: The successor kings of Israel manage always to be more evil than their predecessors. Zimri has assassinated Elah and ascends the throne of Israel. A mere week later, Omri, the army’s commander, tells his troops, “Zimri has conspired, and he has killed the king” (16:16) and executes a coup d’etat. But before Omri can get to the king, Zimri (rather stupidly, IMHO) burns down the palace and manages to die in the process.

The coup splits the kingdom of Israel: half the people are loyal to Omri; the other half to a certain Tibni son of Ginath. Omri puts down the rebellion and reigns for 12 years over a seemingly united Israel but is as fissiparous as ever just below the surface. He establishes Samaria as the new capital of Israel, and follows the usual downward path: “Omri did what was evil in the sight of the Lord; he did more evil than all who were before him.” (16:25)

Omri’s son, Ahab, succeeds him and exceeds even his father’s evil by marrying Jezebel and overtly serving the god Baal, and, yes, unsurprisingly, “did more to provoke the anger of the Lord, the God of Israel, than had all the kings of Israel who were before him.” (16:33) Wow. I guess the lesson here is that there are no limits to the penchant to commit evil; it only descends ever deeper into malevolence. It’s no wonder the Jews of Judah in Jesus’ time had nothing but contempt for their fallen brothers of Samaria.

The prophet Elijah comes to Ahab and pronounces doom: “As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.” (17: 1) Elijah is directed by God to leave Israel forthwith and he arrives at the “Wadi Cherith, which is east of the Jordan.” (17:5), where he is fed bread and meat by ravens. But then the wadi dries up and Elijah is led by God to Zarephath.

Elijah encounters a widow gathering sticks and asks for a little water and a “morsel of bread.” The widow, who is not Jewish, replies that she has only a little and is about to head home to die along with her son of starvation. ELijah tells her not to be afraid and promises her that “the jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.” (17:14) And it was so as Elijah continued to live with the widow.

The widow’s son falls ill and is about to die. The distraught woman asks Elijah what he has against her to cause the death of her son. Elijah is equally distressed and prays aloud to God, asking the same question: “O Lord my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?” (17:20) He throws stretches himself over the child and pleads three times, “O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.” (17:21) And the child is healed.

What is so wonderful about this story is that right here in the middle of the history of the deplorable succession of kings of Israel is a beacon of faith in God and of healing. More importantly, it dramatically demonstrates that God is the God of all people, here represented by the Gentile widow, not just the God of Israel. Israel may have a special place before God, but it is not an exclusive place.

Finally, this is a clear demonstration of God’s special concern for widows and the poor. Elijah found respite from the famine in the home of a poor widow, not in the king’s palace. Just as centuries later, Jesus would be born into the same humble circumstances.

John 18:12–24: Jesus is brought first to Annas, who is the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest. John adds a note we have not seen in the synoptics: “Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.” (14) This suggests that Caiaphas was acting out of some kind of concern for political good of Israel under Roman oppression. Was he? Or was this just an excuse to do away with this troublemaking rabbi?

The scene shifts and we find Peter denying Jesus. But another self-referential detail by our gospel writer: “Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest,” (15) Apparently John was not afraid to be identified as a disciple of Jesus. This disciple asks for and receives permission to bring Peter into temple courtyard, where Peter denies he knows Jesus while warming himself in fornt of the fire.

Meanwhile, Jesus is questioned by Annas, and contra the silent Jesus we encounter in the synoptics, John’s Jesus is, as he always is in this gospel, quite clear about who he is, although he doe omit some details about who he really is: “I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret.” (20) John’s Jesus adds rather courageously (impudently?), “Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” (21) Even though jesus’ response is certainly the correct one, he is reward by being struck in the face by one of the temple policemen. Again, Jesus is not cowed, but says, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” (23)

But there is no reply to Jesus in this kangaroo court. And there is no reply throughout history. Jesus is either a madman, or he is who he says he is. Once again we encounter the theme of belief that so permeates this gospel. The question to all of us: How would we answer Jesus?

No answer by anyone there is recorded here because the question is for all of us. But Annas clearly wants to wash his hands of this troublemaker and sends him to Caiaphas.

 

Psalm 133: This psalm reminds me of an idyllic landscape paining by someone like the French painter Millet, as our psalmist looks down on this peaceful scene occupied by farmers resting after a hard days work, admiring the fruits of their labor. It celebrates the harmony of a group that has toiled together on a common task: “Look, how good and how pleasant/ is the dwelling of brothers together.” (1)

A striking simile of gentle anointing follows: “Like goodly oil on the head/ coming down over the beard.” (2a) And it’s a certainly a full, bushy beard: “Aaron’s beard that comes down/ over the opening of his robe.” (2b) While I personally am not ready to have my head and (non-existent) beard drenched in oil, there’s no question that this is a calming, peaceful practice of cleansing at the ned of a hard day’s work, reminding us that Sabbath rest is just as important as daily work.

The oil simile receives its own simile: “Like Hermon’s dew that comes down/ on the parched mountains,” (3) amplifying the image of verdant peace and quiet rest. And behind it all is God: “For there the Lord ordained the blessing—/ life forevermore.” (4) This peace and harmony is a wonderful description of the worry-free life that awaits us “forevermore” because we have rested in the arms of a loving God.

1 Kings 15:9–16:14: At long last, Judah enjoys the benefit of 41 years of being ruled by a righteous king: “Asa did what was right in the sight of the Lord, as his father David had done.” (15:11) He even demotes his own mother from being queen mother “because she had made an abominable image for Asherah.” (13) While the “high places” were not removed, and thus we presume that idol worship continued, “Nevertheless, Asa was true to the Lord all his days.” (14)

But the battles between Judah and Israel continues. Asa establishes an alliance with king Ben-hadad of Syria at Damascus, and both armies take on Israel. Attacking from the north, they subdue Israel’s king Baasha, who gives up his plans for building strong fortifications at Ramah.

Stepping back in time a bit, our authors reveal that Jeorboam has (finally) died and his son Nadab  continues Israel’s evil practices. Nadab is quickly overthrown by Baasha,  who promptly eliminates the Jeroboamic dynasty, apparently instructed to do so by God through the prophet Ahijah:  “He [Baasha] left to the house of Jeroboam not one that breathed,…according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by his servant Ahijah the Shilonite—because of the sins of Jeroboam that he committed and that he caused Israel to commit, and because of the anger to which he provoked the Lord, the God of Israel.” (15:29, 30) This is a stark reminder that the leader has a higher responsibility to those whom he leads. The house of Jeroboam is destroyed not only for its own sins, but for having led an entire nation astray.

The reason is simple: Baasha and the nation of Israel have continues to sin mightily. The prophet Jehu brings Baasha the bad news directly from God: “I exalted you out of the dust and made you leader over my people Israel, and you have walked in the way of Jeroboam, and have caused my people Israel to sin, provoking me to anger with their sins.” (16:2) Baasha dies and his son Elah takes the throne, reigning for a mere two years before a palace coup headed by a certain Zimri assassinates 27-year old Elah. As God had promised, the house of Baasha is wiped out.

As far as our authors are concerned, kings who fail to set an example of following God as David did are the root cause of defeat and death. With the exception of Asa, self-centered, egotistical leaders seem to be genetically incapable of following God.

John 18:1–11: Jesus is betrayed by Judas in the Kidron valley at an unnamed garden—which from the Synoptics we know to be Gethsemane. Our gospel writer omits Jesus’ agonizing Gethsemane prayer—probably because Jesus has just prayed a much more upbeat and philosophically rich prayer with the disciples in the upper room. Unlike the Synoptics, John’s Jesus is far more spiritual and seemingly exempt—up to this point anyway—from the pain and agony of the flesh.

In John’s account, Jesus confronts Judas and simply asks (obviously knowing the answer already), “Whom are you looking for?” (4), They reply “Jesus of Nazareth” and Jesus calmly responds, “I am he.” (5) Of course for this gospel writer, these three words are fraught with far greater meaning than simply identifying himself to a bunch of soldiers. Judas must sense that the completion of the sentence would be “whom the Father has sent,” because he faints and falls to the ground, doubtless realizing the enormity of his sin.

The same dialog between Jesus and the soldiers is repeated again, word for word. This time though, Jesus adds, “if you are looking for me, let these men [the disciples] go.” But Peter cannot leave without a fight on behalf of his master and promptly cuts off the right ear of the high priest’s slave. Jesus tells Peter to sheath his sword. As I read this Jesus’ instructions to Jesus are not because he necessarily disapproves of Peter’s impulsive act but because it might foil the sequence of events that are about to follow: “Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” (11)

For our gospel writer, Jesus never questions his fate but is fully cognizant of the purpose for which he was sent to earth by God. John’s Jesus has never doubted what he is to do and approaches his fate with otherworldly equanimity.

Psalm 132: Alter informs us that this psalm is a poem about David’s efforts to bring the Ark of the Covenant to its final resting place in Jerusalem as described in 2 Samuel 6-7.  It was not an easy task:
“Recall, O Lord, for David
all his torment
when he swore to the Lord,
vowed to Jacob’s Champion” (1,2)

[Alter calls the Ark “Jacob’s Champion;” the NRSV calls it “the Mighty One of Jacob.”]

But David was a man of his word, especially before God, and our psalmist indulges in a bit of poetic hyperbole here, (since we assume David did in fact sleep while undertaking this task) as his David swears,
“I will not come into the tent of my home,
I will not mount my couch,
I will not give sleep to my eyes
nor slumber to my lids
until I find a place for the Lord,
a dwelling for Jacob’s Champion.” (3,4,5)

But we get the point. David certainly dedicated his all to accomplishing this (to mix metaphors) Herculean task.

The verses that follow suggest that the psalm is not contemporaneous with the event, but a fondly recalled memory throughout Israel: “Look, we heard of it in Ephratha,/ we found it in the fields of Jaar.” (6) Regardless, the Ark’s arrival in Jerusalem is a time of national celebration and a focus of pilgrimage: “Let us come into His dwelling,/ let us bow to His footstool.” (7) The Ark rests at the center of Israel’s existence and purpose as the hymn rises heavenward:
“Rise, O Lord, to Your resting-place,
You and the Ark of Your strength.
Let Your priests don victory,
and let Your faithful sing gladly.” (8,9)

But at the moment all is not well. Israel has sinned, doubtless its usual worshipping of other small-g gods and now is repentant as it begs God to remain David’s oath to God becomes God’s oath to David:
“For the sake of David Your servant,
do not turn away Your anointed.
The Lord swore to David
a true oath from which He will not turn back.” (10, 11)

The psalmist shifts to God’s voice, reminding Israel (and us) of the terms of the Covenant between David and himself: If David’s progeny also obey God, then “their sons, too, evermore/ shall sit on the throne that is yours.” After all, God continues, “The Lord has chosen Zion [Jerusalem],/ He desired it as His seat.” (13)

And if God remains at Jerusalem, wonderful things will happen: “its priests I will clothe in triumph,/ and its faithful will surely sing gladly.” (16) The psalm concludes on a triumphantly hopeful note: “His enemies I will clothe with shame,/ but on him [David and presumably, his successors]—his crown will gleam.” (18)

1 Kings 14:21–15:8: Meanwhile, down south in Judah, Rehoboam ascends the throne of David at age 41. Alas, this corrupt king had drifted far from God and was a poor example of leadership, “Judah did what was evil in the sight of the Lord; they provoked him to jealousy with their sins that they committed, more than all that their ancestors had done.” (14:22) Which is saying something… Judah’s sins included male temple prostitutes and having failed to rid Canaan of all its inhabitants centuries before, Israel absorbed evil practices: “they committed all the abominations of the nations that the Lord drove out before the people of Israel.” (14:24)

Needless to say, God is p.o.ed and allows Judah to be invaded. King Shishak of Egypt “took away the treasures of the house of the Lord and the treasures of the king’s house; he took everything.” (26) Rehoboam’s guard is reduced to shields of bronze rather than Solomon’s shields of gold. On top of this there is endless internecine warfare between Rehoboam and Jeroboam, further reducing the once great united kingdom under Solomon. Thus do empires crumble.

Rehoboam dies before Jeroboam, so a guy named Abijam takes the throne in Judah. Solomon’s grandson is just as bad as his father: “He committed all the sins that his father did before him; his heart was not true to the Lord his God, like the heart of his father David.” (15:3) Our authors, being the David partisans they are, remark that “Nevertheless for David’s sake the Lord his God gave him a lamp in Jerusalem,” (15:4) which is to say he was allowed to rule. The authors have more to say about David than Abijam, who is basically a deeply wicked non-entity: “David did what was right in the sight of the Lord, and did not turn aside from anything that he commanded him all the days of his life, except in the matter of Uriah the Hittite.” (15:5) Abijam dies after a brief but destructive three-year reign.

Up next: Solomon’s great-grandson, Asa.

John 17:20–26: Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer is not just for the disciples, but (this being the gospel that’s all about belief) for all persons who believe, including us two millennia later: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word.” (20)

Jesus also prays for the unity of believers: “that they may all be one.” (21) And then more forcefully, “so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” (22, 23) Alas, 2000 years later, the church is fully divided within itself, having both added added to and taken away from what Jesus said. But above all, having forgotten Jesus’ words about love. While there are certain ecumenical movements underway and more common ground is being agreed to, I fear the church will remain divided for centuries to come unless there is an unstoppable outbreak of love for each other. But I am not optimistic.

We must never forget that the church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ and that Jesus is the exemplar of what Christian love is all about. In the end Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit is pure love: “I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” (26) Absent real love the church is a mere Potemkin village.

Psalm 131: Unlike many of the other “songs of ascents,” this compact psalm is intensely personal—a prayer uttered one-on-one between God and the penitent:
“Lord, my heart has not been haughty,
nor have my eyes looked to high,
nor have I striven for great things,
nor for things too wondrous for me.” (1)

There is no pride, no preening here. There is only deep humility before God. I’m not sure I could honestly pray this prayer. How many times in my life have I been ambitious and sought ascendancy over others? Have I always been content with my lot in life?

Rather than focusing on outward distractions, our psalmist centers himself on God: “But I have calmed and contented myself.” (2a) And then in a remarkable simile he compares himself to the contented babe on a mother’s breast, seeking nothing more than God’s encompassing comfort: “like a weaned babe on its mother—/ like a weaned babe I am with myself.” (2b)

Can I find such wonderful contentment in prayer the ay the psalmist has? Can I focus only on resting in God, free of the distractions and temptations of the world. Free of the prideful desire that has motivated so many of my actions and relationships through the years? But then, what I have done n the past matters little to God when I am content to come to him in humility and peace. Today is what matters.

1 Kings 13:23–14:20: The young prophet, who disobeyed God by supping with the old prophet, meets his fate: “as he went away, a lion met him on the road and killed him. His body was thrown in the road, and the donkey stood beside it.” (13:24) When the old prophet hears of this, he comes and finds the lion standing beside the dead prophet: “The lion had not eaten the body or attacked the donkey.” (13:18) He takes the body and buries it in his own grave, “and they mourned over him, saying, “Alas, my brother!” (13:30)

The old prophet realizes that while his young counterpart had disobeyed God, he had nonetheless performed God’s work before Jeroboam, saying, “He proclaimed by the word of the Lord against the altar in Bethel, and against all the houses of the high places that are in the cities of Samaria, shall surely come to pass.” (32)

But Jeroboam does not heed the prophet’s warning and quickly falls deeper into sin, reestablishing the high place at Bethel and appointing as priest anyone who applied for the job. As our authors note ominously, “This matter became sin to the house of Jeroboam, so as to cut it off and to destroy it from the face of the earth.” (13:34)

Which of course is exactly what happens. Jeroboam’s son falls ill and he sends his wife in disguise to same old prophet, Ahijah, to ask what will happen. The disguise was apparently not very good, for Ahijah instantly recognizes the woman as Jeroboam’s wife.

The prophet delivers bad news. God delivered the ten tribes of Israel to Jeroboam, but the king has “not been like my servant David, who kept my commandments and followed me with all his heart, doing only that which was right in my sight.” (14:8) Instead, he has “done evil above all those who were before you and have gone and made for yourself other gods, and cast images, provoking me to anger.” (14:9a) And in an interesting turn of phrase, the prophet concludes, speaking in the voice of God, that Jeroboam has “thrust me [God] behind your back.” (14:9b) A challenging phrase since I think everyone of us has thrust God behind our backs many times in our lives.

Jeroboam’s fate is the worst possible outcome, as the prophet concludes, “I will cut off from Jeroboam every male, both bond and free in Israel, and will consume the house of Jeroboam, just as one burns up dung until it is all gone.” The woman returns to find her son dead.

The prophet also predicts a dire outcome for the entire nation of Israel: God “will root up Israel out of this good land that he gave to their ancestors, and scatter them beyond the Euphrates, because they have made their sacred poles,  provoking the Lord to anger.”  (14:15) Which of course is exactly what happens, although not as soon as the prophet implies.

Jeroboam reigns 22 years and is succeeded by another son, Nadab. Apparently, the house of Jeroboam is not quite over yet.

John 17:1–19: Jesus has concluded his discourse to the disciples and now prays what has become known as the High Priestly Prayer, which opens with Jesus’ clear statement that something extraordinary is about to happen, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you.” (1) But the line that intrigues me follows shortly, “this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (3) The implication—for me anyway—is that eternal life is much greater than merely going to heaven after we die, whatever that might mean. Rather, eternal life lies in knowing Jesus.  For me, “eternal,” in this context means “beyond time” not just “forever,” which implies we are stuck in time. I take this as a far greater, far better thing because it affects me in the here and now, not in some abstract future. Our relationship with God through Jesus transcends the four dimensions in which we are trapped here on earth, right now, right here.

Once again, Jesus makes the crucial point that his returning to the Father is the loving act that brings true joy to us here on earth: “But now I am coming to you, and I speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves.” (13)

The other key point is that while we, as Jesus’ disciples, may be in the world, we are no longer of the world: “the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world.” (14) In other words, we are not possessed by the world, but through faith we will ultimately transcend the world. And while we are here, Jesus has asked God to protect us: “I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one.” (15) As Peter makes clear in his epistle, we are “resident aliens” in the world, but the world cannot claim us as its own.

The problem of course is that I too readily claim the world as my own rather than, like the psalmist above, finding comfort in God’s all-encompassing embrace, which Jesus has made available to us.

 

Psalm 130: This brief penitential psalm opens with the psalmist’s cri de coeur, “From the depths I called You, Lord./ Master, hear my voice.” (1) He intensifies his urgency by asking, “May Your ears listen close to the voice of my plea.” (2a) The idea of living without God’s response is agonizing: “Master, who could endure?” (3b) And why the urgenccy for God to hear? Because only God is capable of forgiving our sins: “Forgiveness is Yours,/ so that You may be feared.” (4)

But so much of our relationship with God requires patience and undying hope: “I hoped for the Lord,/ my being hoped,/ and for His word I waited.” (5) This patient waiting is amplified in the next verse with a powerful comparison as the psalmist’s entire existence is encapsulated in eager anticipation of God’s response: “My being for the Master—/ more than dawn watchers watch for the dawn.” (6)

In the last two verses the psalm suddenly shifts from the first person to the collective Israel, as the hopeful anticipation is on behalf of the entire nation as God’s two greatest qualities come to the fore: “Wait, O Israel, for the Lord,/ for with the Lord is steadfast kindness,/ and great redemption is with Him.” (7) Even though Israel is awash in its sinfulness, the psalmist is sure of one great thing about a God who listens to prayer: “And he will redeem Israel/ from all its wrongs.” (8) God’s kindness and redemption will inevitably come, but when only we ask—and then wait patiently.

1 Kings 12:25–13:22: It doesn’t take newly-crowned king Jeroboam very long to lead the ten northern tribes of Israel astray. Concerned that his people will keep going down to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices and be tempted to “revert to the house of David,” (12:26), which would result in him being overthrown by King Rehoboam and killed. So, he sets up two alternative worship sites, each featuring a golden calf, at Bethel and Dan. Even worse, he appoints non-Levite priests. The long descent of the northern kingdom into apostasy begins early on.

Disapproval is quick in coming. “Jeroboam was standing by the altar to offer incense, a man of God came out of Judah by the word of the Lord to Bethel.” (13:1) Needless to say, this unnamed prophet is quick to condemn the altar and predicts that “A son shall be born to the house of David, Josiah by name.” (13:2) [The authors know Josiah’s name because they’re writing history and know who came.] Worse, the prophet predicts that Jeroboam and his ersatz priests will themselves be killed sacrificed on this very altar, which will then be destroyed. Jeroboam attempts to reach out and seize this prophetic interloper, but as he does so, his hand withers and the altar is torn down (apparently by God). Jeroboam begs the prophet to pray to God to restore his hand, which the prophet does. The king invites the prophet to dinner, but the prophet rather testily replies (Prophets are inevitably testy), “If you give me half your kingdom, I will not go in with you; nor will I eat food or drink water in this place,” (13:8) because that’s what God instructed him to not do. He departs.

The sons of another old prophet, who lives in Bethel, tell him about the incident with Jeroboam. The old man asks his sons to saddle a donkey and he sets out in pursuit of the other prophet, whom he finds the prophet sitting under an oak tree. The old man invites him to lunch. The younger prophet replies, “I cannot return with you, or go in with you; nor will I eat food or drink water with you in this place” (16) because God had told him so. The old prophet insists, the younger prophet relents, and the “man of God went back with him, and ate food and drank water in his house.” (19) Suddenly, the old prophet receives a word from God and tells his luncheon guest, “Because you have disobeyed the word of the Lord, and have not kept the commandment that the Lord your God commanded you,” (21). As a result, the old prophet continues, “your body shall not come to your ancestral tomb.” (22)

So, what are our authors trying to tell us here with this odd encounter? I think it’s that prophets must listen and obey the word of God directly, not through the words of another man—even if he’s another prophet. In the end, God speaks one-to-one to prophets, not through proxies. I think this is a set up for many of the prophetic words that are going to follow in this history of the decline and fall of Israel and then eventually, Judah.

John 16:17–33: Jesus has been talking for quite some time now and his puzzling philosophical-theological discourse and introduction of the Advocate have only created more confusion But the issue that concerns them most is Jesus’ statement that he is going away. This is not part of their plan. They think they are in Jerusalem to see Jesus overthrow the religious establishment, if not the Roman rulers.

Jesus is a bit more direct in predicting that like a woman in labor, there is pain followed by joy: “you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy.” (20) In addition to joy, there is Jesus’ great promise: “Very truly, I tell you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you.” (23) Well, that sounds pretty good, but notice that the gifts they will receive are not power or wealth but one simple outcome: “Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.” (24) It is through Jesus—and Jesus alone—that our joy is completed. Happiness may have many parents, but joy comes from only one place.

Jesus finally admits, “I have said these things to you in figures of speech. The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures, but will tell you plainly of the Father.” (25) The disciples must have been relieved to hear that. The light is dawning as Jesus puts it finally in plain language: “the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.” (27) And once again here in this gospel, it is all about belief.But now it’s not just intellectual belief, but it is belief leavened with love.

The disciples get it!  They tell Jesus, “Yes, now you are speaking plainly, not in any figure of speech! Now we know that you know all things, and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God.” (29, 30) And there it is: they have acknowledged the truth of what our gospel writer said much earlier in John 3:16: For God so loved the world that he sent his only son…” 

Jesus departure is near, but love and joy have trumped confusion and concern. And that, I think, is the core message of this marvelous but often frustrating gospel. We believe that God loves us and through Jesus our joy becomes full.