One such story that grabbed my attention is that of a young girl in 2 Kings 5. She was the Hebrew slave-girl serving in the household of Naaman, the military commander of the Aramaeans (Syrians), an enemy of King Joram and the Israelites – a hostility that continued for decades. The writer tells us that this unfortunate girl was taken prisoner by the Aramaeans during one of their marauding raids into Israel. Naaman may have purchased her for his household in a slave market or for all we know; she may have been captured by Naaman himself.  I cannot begin to imagine her parent’s grief when she just vanished into thin air one horrible day; never to know what happened to her, what had become of her.

As the story goes, Naaman was afflicted with leprosy. The young Hebrew slave-girl who waited on his wife took pity on Naaman and told his wife about a prophet in Israel, Elisha, who could heal Naaman.  The Book of Kings tells the story of how Naaman sets out to find Elisha and in the end is healed by washing himself seven times in the Jordan River, on Elisha’s command. All seemed to have worked out well for Naaman, and who knows, maybe relations between Israel and Aram did improve a bit for awhile – after all, after he was healed Naaman did confess that he now believed that “there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.” Maybe from now on Namaan would think twice before sending a marauding raid into Israel’s territory.

But nothing changed for the Hebrew slave-girl. As she had vanished from her home, she vanishes off the pages of the Bible, not to be mentioned again. She probably stayed in the house of Namaan till her death. Yet, naively, I sometimes make up my own ending for this story. In my ending, Namaan sends her back home as a gesture of thankfulness because she told them about Elisha. In my ending I see her running towards her parent’s home to be reunited with her parents in her mother’s warm embrace. But, alas, that’s not how it works in the real world. No Hollywood ending.

In 1977, while walking home, 13-year-old Japanese schoolgirl Megumi Yokota vanished without a trace. Initially, authorities were convinced Megumi was a runaway, but her family was adamant: she would never run away.

The first time I read Megumi’s story was in Phillip Yancey’s book Prayer: Does it make any difference? Phillip shared how he had tried for several years to help a Japanese family, the Yokotas, in their desperate search for justice. “In 1977”, he writes, “their thirteen-year-old daughter Megumi vanished on her way home from badminton practice after school. Police dogs tracked her scent to a nearby beach, but the distraught Yokotas had no clues to explain their daughter’s sudden disappearance. Sixteen years later, long after the Yokotas had resigned themselves to Megumi’s death, a North Korean defector made a stunning claim: A Japanese woman named Megumi, who played badminton, was living in North Korea at a training institute for intelligence spies. Scores of Japanese, he said, had been kidnapped and forced to teach Korean spies the Japanese language and culture. He provided heartrending details of Megumi’s abduction: agents had seized her, wrapped her in a straw mat, and rowed her to a waiting spy ship, where she had spent the night scratching against the hold with bloody fingers, crying: ‘Mother.’ For years North Korea dismissed all such reports as fabrications. But in the face of mounting pressure, Kim Jong-Il himself, the ‘Dear Leader’ of North Korea, at long last admitted to the abduction of thirteen Japanese, including Megumi.”

Of the thirteen abductees, five were returned to Japan, the other eight died during their time in captivity. Megumi was one of the eight; she used her own kimono to hang herself.

Did the Hebrew girl and Megumi feel abandoned by all? Could they find comfort in God’s presence in their alienation? Or did they feel abandoned and forgotten by God?

In the words of Phillip Yancey:

These things feed my faith: epiphanies of beauty in nature, sunbursts of

forgiveness, the portrait of God I get in Jesus, stirring encounters with

people  who truly live out their faith. And these feed my doubts: God’s

baffling tolerance of history’s atrocities, my unanswered prayers,

sustained periods of God’s absence.

I loved fairy tales as a kid, but you rarely find fairy tales in real life or in the Bible. Time to go see a Hollywood movie with a wonderfully naïve happy ending,

Kobie

For more info on Megumi’s story see:

http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/abduction/film.html

http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/abduction/

As this tender scene unfolds some may sense that something deep and profound just happened. This is not at all what Simon the Pharisee saw and so he was not happy at all. Disgusted, he grumbled under his breath, if Jesus really was a prophet, he would have known and been able to see what type of women was touching him. But Simon is the one who is not really seeing. All he can see is a “sinner”. As a Pharisee, he saw someone who was labeled as a “sinner,” as unclean, someone who is not keeping the Law, and thus an outcast. That this woman dared to touch Jesus repulsed him, because her mere touching would also make Jesus unclean before the law. Blinded by his perception, Simon misinterprets the woman’s actions.

Sadly many through the ages who have read this passage made the same mistake – thinking the phrase “a woman from the city” refers to a prostitute. But in ancient culture the expression “a woman in/from the city” was not a euphemism or veiled allusion to a prostitute. Yes, they had their own colorful expressions referring to prostitutes, but this is not one of them. The expression probably refers to where this unnamed woman was from, which was a typical way to identify people – remember, last names did not exist yet – for instance; Jesus of Nazareth, Mary from Bethany, Simon, the Pharisee.

However it may be, Scripture does not provide us with any personal information about this woman, except that she was from the town, and a “sinner,” which was a general expression for a person considered unclean by the law. Those who did not keep all the stipulations of the law were considered unclean, called “sinners,” and treated as outcasts. What precisely she did wrong, we don’t know, because the gospel writer does not provide us with the information. It doesn’t seem to be crucial to the plot of the story.  Yet many readers feel compelled to speculate about her misdeed. I sometimes wonder, if this had been a story about a man from the city who used to be a sinner, would so much scholarly research have been dedicated to uncovering the precise nature of his “sin” or would the readers have jumped to the conclusion that the sin must have been sexual in nature? Why is it that when a woman and sin are mentioned in the same sentence in Scripture the first assumption made is that it must be some kind of sexual misstep?

And let me point out that the expression “was a sinner” is not the best way to translate the Greek text. It should be translated as a woman who used to be a sinner. The truth is we don’t know much about this woman; we don’t even know her name. She is an unknown nameless woman, and yet Simon made an instant assumption about what she was all about, deciding then and there that she was not worthy to touch Jesus. But when Jesus looked at this woman, he really saw her, past all the superficial assumptions and preconceptions.

So Jesus spoke up and told Simon a parable:

“Simon, I have something to say to you.”  “Tell me Teacher,” he said.  “Two people owed money to a creditor. One owed the creditor the equivalent of two years’ wages; the other, two months’ wages. Both were unable to pay, so the creditor wrote off both debts.  Which of them was more grateful to the moneylender?” Simon answered, “I suppose the one who owed more.”  And Jesus said, “You are right.” (Luke 7: 40-43)

Simon easily understands the point of the parable, but does he really get it?  So Jesus turns to him and asks: ‘Do you see this woman?” It is as if he is asking: “Do you really see this woman, Simon?” Listen again to what Jesus said to Simon: “Do you see this woman? I came into your house and you gave me no water to wash my feet, but she has washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss of greeting, but she covered my feet with kisses. You didn’t anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with oil. (Luke 7:44-46)

All Simon could see was a “sinner,” but Jesus saw somebody who showed love because she had received forgiveness. Remember, I mentioned earlier that we should rather translate verse 36 as: a woman from town, who used to be a sinner. This is the reason why she crashed Simon’ party, why she brought costly ointment with her to anoint Jesus: to show her gratitude and love towards Jesus. Why? Because she had experienced forgiveness. The text does not us tell when, where, or how it happened, just that it did and it liberated her. It set her free to show love. It enabled her to do the very thing Simon did not and could not do for Jesus. She extended towards Jesus the hospitality that Simon withheld: water for his feet, a kiss of welcome, and an anointing for someone coming in from a journey exposed to the dust and the heat of the day. These were all things that Simon the host should have done for his guest, Jesus. Instead, it is an uninvited guest, this nameless woman, who shows Jesus hospitality. For this reason, says Jesus: I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven – see how much she loves me. But the one who is forgiven little, loves little. (Luke 7:47)

And so Jesus confirms her new state in life and validates her new life by saying to her: Your sins are forgiven. She has indeed been raised into a new life. Her actions were the testimony to this new life. This is what Simon could not see, blinded by his perception that she was a “sinner” – someone lacking. He was not able to see that she was doing the very thing he was supposed to do, but failed to. Simon, the Pharisee, could not really see the woman, so he distanced himself from her. Jesus really saw this unnamed woman, all the pieces of her, and it caused him to move towards her with compassion, love and a blessing of peace.

The story ends with Jesus blessing the woman and saying to her, Your faith has saved you. Go in peace. (Luke 7:50) But I cannot help but wonder, where can she go, now that she has been set free of her former life?

Jesus gathered around him a new family, a new community, a new family of God. To be invited to sit around his table does not depend on blood relation, or status, or money, or education, or race, or so-called respectability, or whatever superficial boundaries we as humans erect to keep out others who are different from ourselves.  No, all are welcomed. What this unnamed woman in Luke needs is a community of forgiven and forgiving sinners. This story yells out the need for a church, not just any church, but a church that says: All are welcome here!

This story of the unnamed woman in Luke 7: 36-50 invites us to take up the challenge presented to Simon the Pharisee, and to be converted to Jesus’ way of seeing.  Where will you be this week in relation to those in your family, friends, colleagues at the workplace, strangers that may cross your path? What about church on Sunday mornings? When strangers walk trough the doors of the sanctuary? Will you be quick to make assumptions or will you try to really see them as Jesus sees them and reach out in compassion and love?

Sad to say, but I have caught myself many times being a kindred spirit to Simon, the Pharisee,

Kobie

This reflection is dedicated to our brother JD, may those who cross paths with you on your journey ahead really see you.

Well, let’s start at the beginning. The story is set around the fourth century before the birth of Jesus. And it’s about the Jewish community living in exile in Persia during the reign of the mighty Persian Empire.

It all starts with King Ahasuerus, the ruler of Persia, who throws a feast that lasts for six months to show off his wealth and power. But as if that were not enough, at the end of the six months, he hosts this lavish and opulent banquet at which wine flowed freely. Separate from this banquet, Queen Vashti, his wife, hosts a banquet for all the women. After six days of partying, totally wasted, he demands that Vashti be brought to his party to “put on a show of her beauty” for those present and for the government officials. It does not take much imagination to figure out what he has in mind, but just in case you didn’t catch it; to “put on a show of her beauty” is a euphemism for a lewd sexual performance. He also instructs her to wear her crown, and many ancient historians suspect he meant for her to put on “only” her crown. Vashti flat out refuses to be humiliated and exploited in this way. I suspect Vashti’s dignity and self respect counted more to her than living in opulence and privilege as the queen of Persia. NO, is her answer.

In an act of total drunken stupor and rage he dethrones and banishes her from his court. No only that, it seems Vashti’s refusal is nothing short of a national emergency. If news of her behavior were to leak out, all the women in Persia would be out of control. The land will descend into anarchy. Really? You’ve got to be kidding! Apparently not, because an edict went out that from now on all women should be subordinate to their husbands. If you ever wonder where it was first said in Scripture that a wife should be subordinate to her husband, now you know. It was a rule made by a weak and drunken Persian king. Go figure!

Of course when he sobers up he realizes what he has done, but it is too late – the imperial edict cannot be reversed. To cheer him up his attendants suggest they start an empire wide search to find a worthy replacement for Vashti. Meaning someone who would listen and do as she is told. So the king sends out commissioners to every province in the empire to round up (yes, round up – there was no choice involved) every beautiful and young unmarried girl and bring them to the king’s palace. Esther, a Jewish girl, is among these girls, probably 12-14 years of age – girls usually married shortly after they reached puberty. Then for a year long, they were prepared with cosmetic treatment and instructed in the ways of how to “please” (if you get my drift) the king. Then they were brought one by one, night after night, to the king’s bedroom. The one he finds to be the most beautiful and who pleases him the most will become the new queen and the rest will live for the rest of their lives in his harem as concubines. Your heard me correctly – no one goes home. Today we would view this as kidnapping and sexual slavery.

Poor Esther, she always did what she was told – the very opposite of Vashti, probably one of the reasons the king liked her so much. She was an orphan, adopted by her uncle Mordecai whom she, according to the story, always obeyed. And when she arrived at the palace it was her survival strategy. The eunuch in charge of the girls picked up on it fast and favored her, giving her special attention, and instruction in the ways the king likes to be pleased. It worked and she became the new queen, all the while hiding her true ethnicity (on instruction of her uncle) – she was a Jewish girl. A foreigner, a minority with no legal protection living in exile in Persia.

Well she thought she was safe until her uncle refused stubbornly to bow down to Haman. Haman in turn responded with irrational anger vowing revenge not just on Mordecai but all his people.  So he schemes to annihilate every Jewish person living in the Persian Empire. On a specific day every Jewish man, woman, and child would be slaughtered. It was to be genocide. And he succeeds in his conspiracy by not only bribing the king, but by generalizing and telling half truths. “There is a group of insolent people who resist assimilation and who willfully disregard the king’s law,” said Haman. The truth of course is that there is just one man, Mordecai who refused to bow down to Haman. The king doesn’t want to deal with the “problem” so he gives Haman the authority to do whatever he wants to correct the “problem.” As foreigners, strangers in a foreign land, the Jewish population’s lot is sealed. A date for the genocide is announced – the day on which every Jewish man, women, and child will be slaughtered by their neighbors - and their land and property confiscated.

When Mordecai asks Esther to plead the Jewish case before the king, she at first refuses. Her situation is precarious so don’t judge her too quickly. Although she is the queen, she is still just a concubine who lives in the king’s harem. She doesn’t socialize with the king on a daily basis. The only time she sees him is when he summons her at night to his room for sex. In the morning she is returned to the harem. And she’s not that young anymore, she is now less often summoned by the king. Remember there are hundreds of girls in his harem. So she explains to Mordecai that she hasn’t been summoned to the king’s bedroom in 30 days - she knows the chances of seeing the king in the foreseeable future is small. She also knows all too well, after living in the harem for 5 years, trained in court etiquette, that if one approached the king unsummoned, the punishment is death. And so she refuses to risk her life.

Some people, especially some feminist Biblical scholars like Vashti, and dislike Esther. They view her as a push-over. In contrast to Vashti, who refused to be a man’s sexual object, Esther is viewed as the stereotypical woman in a man’s world. But the reality is Esther had neither any power as a woman in a patriarchal world or as Jewish minority living in exile in Persia. No civil rights, no protection under the law – no voice. She had no choice about entering the king’s harem.  But she refused to be a victim; rather she chose to be a survivor, who made the best of the situation once she found herself in the king’s harem.

But Mordecai helps her to face the reality; she has been lulled into a false sense of security. She’s not safe in the palace; this is where the threat is coming from after all. There are people who are aware of the fact that she is Jewish, so she can’t escape. She has survived so far, but isn’t truly safe. She is just as vulnerable as all the other Jewish people living in exile in Persia. So Mordecai says to her: Don’t fool yourself into thinking that, just because you are in the imperial palace, you will be the only Jewish person to escape. If you insist on remaining silent at this time, vindication and liberation will come, to our people through another source, but both you and your family will surely die. If there is one thing we learn about God in scripture and from the prophets it is that God is on the side of the oppressed and one way or another God will act through some willing human or another to save the oppressed and restore justice. But if Esther doesn’t do something, then she and Mordecai will surely die.

It is then that Mordecai says something that is maybe the only indirect reference to God in the Book of Esther: Who’s to say – you may have come into the royal court for just this moment. Who knows, Esther, maybe this is the reason you became the queen. All these coincidences, the king getting drunk, Vashti’s fall from grace, Esther becoming the new queen, may reveal that God was at work behind the scene all this time, but one cannot be sure. All Mordecai and Esther can do is act, and hope that their actions corresponds with God’s plan and purpose for them. There is no assurance for Esther that it will work out well.

Sound somewhat familiar? It’s not that different from how most of us experience our journey of faith. God doesn’t intervene directly or miraculously, say, as with Daniel in the lion’s den, or Joseph who had dreams, or God speaking to Abraham, or Moses who divided the Red Sea. Esther doesn’t know in the immediate circumstances if things will work out. The chances are big that she may not be able to sway the king, and Haman may succeed with his plans for genocide. She may risk it all for nothing. Esther and Mordecai cannot be completely sure if they are acting in accordance with God’s will. They just don’t know. All they can do is to act within the circumstances they find themselves, to take advantage of those opportunities with an attitude of hope, even when reality seems against its likelihood. How many times have you prayed, when your back was against the wall, when you did not know which way to turn, when you did not know what was the right thing to do, when you had to make a decision and did not know how it would work out, (prayed) to God for a sign; please God just show me what to do?  Will it all work out well?

In the words of Sidney White Crawford: Often life locates us in a situation where we are capable of taking action on behalf of some oppressed person or persons, but with negative consequences to ourselves. Esther’s consequences are clear and absolute: She faces death. The consequences for us may be less absolute but nonetheless devastating – loss of job, family rupture, embarrassment, to name only a few. The author of Esther has captured in two short verses the dilemma of the average believer: How does one find the courage and faith to do what is right in the face of divine and human ambiguity ?

Somehow Esther found the faith and courage to step forward and take control of her own fate. As Esther steps forward we realize something had changed in her, she has found her own voice. She is no longer told what to do; she no longer obeys; now she commands and tells Mordecai what to do. Wherever the chips may fall, live or die, I will do everything I can to save my people. Esther is willing to lose her life in order to safe the lives of many, to save her people. So Esther sends a message to Mordecai: Bring together all the Jewish people in Susa now and fast for me. Do not eat or drink, day and night, for three days. After that I’ll go to the king, in defiance of the law; and if I perish, I perish.

Esther’s dilemma reminds me of the words of Lisa Rhodes: Women have always had difficult choices to make between personal freedom and financial security, self preservation and the survival of their families, people and communities. What would you do? Vashti chose personal freedom, at the expense of giving up all the splendor of the Persian kingdom. Esther chose freedom for others, at the risk of death.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO? There WILL come a time in life that you will need to say NO, and there WILL come a time when you may need to SPEAK UP on behalf of others. What will you do? Will you be able to find the courage and faith to do what is right in the face of both divine and human ambiguity?

I don’t doubt for a moment that many of you have already experienced a time in your life that you needed to say NO, or a time you needed to SPEAK UP. When you heard that small voice saying: What if you were called for such a time as this? When you had this gut feeling that “I’m finding myself in this time and place in my life where I’m called upon to act, to use what God has given me, my gifts, my life experience, my abilities, and my position of privilege.” Yet you also felt scared, afraid, unsure, and hesitant; you had so much to lose. What did you do? Were you able to find the courage and faith to do what was right in the face of both divine and human ambiguity?

I must admit that though there were times that I did indeed say No, or SPOKE UP, there were also many times that I did not, when I just could not muster the courage and faith to do what was right, fearful of the consequences it held for me. Those are the times in my life that I regret the most.

Sometimes I wish we could change the past,

Kobie

The stories in the book of Judges are set in the pre-monarchy time period of Israel’s history. During this period Israel was a confederacy of loosely organized tribes. They did not have a centralized government or a standing army and had limited weapons with which they could defend themselves.  During this time the tribes were “ruled” by judges rather than kings. In times of peace a Judge had the authority to settle disputes and problems. In times of war or oppression the Judges acted as a rallying point to gather the tribes and muster a militia together to defend themselves against their enemies. This could prove almost impossible at times, when certain tribes felt that it was not their fight and did not want to get involved. So sometimes the leader of an already existing militia group (somewhat similar to the warlords of today) would be pressured into the role of Judge to liberate the people, which is what happened to Jephthah.

So it should come as no surprise that many of these Judges (in spite of the pious sounding title) were hardly role models of any kind. Jephthah, as we discovered last week, sacrificed his daughter, Samson murdered his first wife and destroyed the lives of all who came in contact with him, Gideon promoted the worship of fertility gods, and the list goes on.

Deborah stands out among the judges for her wisdom, courage and faith in God. She is introduced as a judge in chapter 4. She is the only female judge mentioned in the Book of Judges. Yet, in spite of the patriarchal world she was living in, it seems that the people had no difficulty in accepting her as a judge. We read in chapter 4 that Deborah held court under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim. There the people came to seek her advice and counsel, to hear her words of wisdom, to find a resolution for their problems and have their disputes settled. To be a judge in peace time was not an officially sanctioned position, but people such as Deborah, were recognized as individuals who were endowed by God with special gifts – thus Deborah had authority rather than power, and people respected her for the qualities she had and trusted her leadership.  She was the ideal role model of what a judge should be.

Deborah is also introduced as a prophet. A prophet was not someone who foretold the future, but someone who received divine oracles in order to make God’s will known to the people. In other words a prophet was a person called by God to proclaim God’s word to the people, many times to liberate and deliver the people from their enemies or to correct an injustice.  Although most of the prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures were men, several women were also called as prophets, such as Miriam, Huldah, Noadia, and Isaiah’s wife. It seems that female prophets were present throughout the history of Israel.

We read in chapter 4 that the Israelites were cruelly oppressed for twenty years by King Jabin of the Canaanites. The superior Canaanite army who kept the Israelites under control was under the command of a fearsome general called Sisera.  With nowhere to turn, the people called out in desperation to God.  Responding to a divine oracle Deborah speaks the prophetic words and summons Barak to gather the various tribes of Israel to fight against Sisera: The Holy One, the God of Israel, commands you, ‘Go, take position at Mount Tabor, bringing ten thousand from the tribe of Naphtali and the tribe of Zebulun. I will draw out Sisera, the general of Jabin’s army, to meet you by the Wadi Kishon with his chariots and his troops; and I will give him into your hand.

Barak has reason to be reluctant to enter into battle against invincible Sisera. The Canaanite forces were a professional, well trained, and disciplined army of soldiers who possessed vastly superior military technology. They were literally armed to the teeth, while the Israelite militia was a motley group of “citizen” soldiers, fewer in number and armed with inferior weapons.  Victory was highly unlikely.

Still Barak agrees to go to battle, but only on one condition, Deborah must accompany him in battle: “If you will go with me, I will go; but if you will not go with me, I will not go.” Deborah agrees to the condition but warns Barak that the honor of conquering the enemy will go to a woman instead of him: “I will surely go with you; nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Holy One will sell Sisera into the hands of a woman.

Some have seen Barak’s request that Deborah, a woman, accompany him into war as a sign of weakness, but I think Barak’s request attests to his absolute conviction that Deborah was sent by God and so he refuses to go into battle without her presence, since he is convinced that her presence would ensure God’s presence with the Israelite militia and victory against the terrifying Sisera.

Deborah seems to be one of those rare figures in human history that can inspire such loyalty and trust in people that they can indeed achieve what seems impossible; a trusted leader who can convince people to follow them to take extraordinary risks in the hope of succeeding against all odds.

We read that Sisera assembled a terrifying force: Sisera called out all his chariots, nine hundred chariots of iron, and all the troops who were with him, from Harosheth-ha-goiim to the Wadi Kishon.

The battle would be totally lopsided; the sight of iron-trimmed chariots was enough to make any opposing force cower in fear. They were the stealth bombers of the ancient world – their weight and velocity as they charged into an opposing army would plough a dreadful furrow through the ranks of soldiers, slaughtering the soldiers on foot and decimating the opposition. Defeat was in the air – liberation but a faded dream.

With the battle lines drawn, Deborah says to Barak: ‘Arise! This is the day Yahweh gives Sisera into your hands. God is indeed going out before you.’ Then something extraordinary and unexpected happened: a sudden torrential downpour caused a flash flood which turned the battlefield into a deep muddy mess. The iron wheels of the fearsome chariots got stuck in the mud, the chariots sinking under their own weight.  Trapped in the mud, confusion and bewilderment broke out among the ranks of the Canaanite soldiers, providing the Israelites with the opportunity to completely defeat Sisera’s army – meaning everyone that did not escape was killed.

The defeated Sisera escaped on foot and fled towards the encampment of Jael the Kenite woman. Biblical scholars explain that Jael and her family were tinsmiths who made various farming utensils and weapons. Since they were nomadic (tent-dwellers) they traveled wherever they could find work. Jael’s campsite was close to the battlefield because her family was probably making weapons for the army.

When Jael spots Sisera; exhausted, hungry, and scared, she calls him to her tent, feeds him and hides him by covering him with a rug. “Do not be afraid,” she assured him. And why should he be suspicious of Jael? After all, according to verse 17, there was peace between King Jabin and the Clan of Heber. Exhausted from the battle and the flight and thinking he is safe, Sisera falls asleep. But he was seriously mistaken: Jael had kinship ties with the Israelites. Jael’s husband Heber was descended from Jethro, who was Moses’ father in law. So, Jael waited till Sisera fell asleep, and then killed him by driving a tent peg through his skull into the ground with a mallet. Gruesome and disturbing to say the least. This fulfilled Deborah’s prophecy that Sisera would fall to a woman.

Chapter 5 recounts the events as a victory song. In the song Jael is called ‘most blessed among women’ and Deborah is identified as the “motherly protector” of Israel.  After the Israelite tribes were delivered from Jabin’s oppressive regime, there was peace in the land for 40 years.

This is an interesting story on so many levels and it challenges our understanding of womanhood on so many levels: How do we feel about women who are involved in violence? What about females as military commanders? Is there something morally wrong with a female warrior? Is violence only an appropriate activity for men?  Is all violence immoral? Does Deborah and Jael’s story justify violence? What would be the moral action if you lived in a world where you were cruelly oppressed?

I’ll leave you with the words of the Guatemalan theologian Julia Esquivel’s reflection on Deborah’s story:

Deborah’s story breaks the tradition of submission and calls on us to place our bodies before the machine guns. It observes that we continue to talk instead of taking liberation into our own hands while thousands of our people are being massacred. It breaks through the false understanding of pacifism that masks the face of God, reducing God to ineffectual neutrality in the face of injustice and oppression.

Some food for thought this week,

Kobie

For some background info on Guatemalan theologian, poet and activist, Julia Esquivel, see the following link:  http://www.whitworth.edu/News/2007_2008/Fall/EsquivelLecture.htm

The story is, from the start, dark and tragic. Jephthah is the unfortunate product of his dad Gilead’s infidelity with a prostitute and as a result he cannot inherit any of his father’s property. To add injury to the injustice, his half-brothers drive him out. But Jephthah is a survivor and an accomplished warrior, so when the Israelites need someone to defend them and fight against the Ammonites, Jephthah is pressured into military service. He agrees on one condition: that if he is victorious, he will become the head of the Gilead Clan. If successful, he will rule as patriarch over his brothers who drove him out. Revenge can be sweet. In preparation for the battle Jephthah strikes a deal with God to ensure victory for him:

Jephthah made a vow to God, and said, “If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whoever comes out of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious from the Ammonites, shall be God’s, to be offered up by me as a burnt offering.” So Jephthah crossed over to the Ammonites to fight against them; and Yahweh gave them into his hand. He inflicted a massive defeat on them from Aroer to the neighborhood of Minnith, twenty towns, and as far as Abel-keramim. So the Ammonites were subdued before the people of Israel. Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah; and there was his daughter coming out to meet him with timbrels and with dancing. She was his only child; he had no son or daughter except her. When he saw her, he tore his clothes, and said, “Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low; you have become the cause of great trouble to me. For I have opened my mouth to Yahweh, and I cannot take back my vow.” She said to him, “My father, if you have opened your mouth to Yahweh, do to me according to what has gone out of your mouth, now that Yahweh has given you vengeance against your enemies, the Ammonites.” And she said to her father, “Let this thing be done for me: Grant me two months, so that I may go and wander on the mountains, and bewail my virginity, my companions and I.” “Go,” he said and sent her away for two months. So she departed, she and her companions, and bewailed her virginity on the mountains. At the end of two months, she returned to her father, who did with her according to the vow he had made. (Judges 11:30-39)

Yes, you read correctly, Jephthah burned his only daughter alive as a sacrifice to God. Since she was still a virgin and unmarried it’s highly possible that she was just 12 or 13 years of age. Girls were usually married off shortly after they reached puberty. This is probably one of the most horrifying stories of victimization in Scripture. And not only that, but also blaming the victim. Jephthah blames his daughter for putting him in the unbearable position of having to sacrifice her. Not once does he stop and consider the option that God may find this sacrifice totally unacceptable and horrid, and it seems neither does the community act responsibly. Oh, they do spend time with her comforting her, weeping with her, but not once do they ask, “Is this just?” They support her with their presence, but do not challenge her fate. Not even one person protests the appropriateness of Jephthah’s vow. What it was is a stupid, rash and self-serving vow of a faithful man who wants to be restored back into the community. This is not genuine piety!

It’s the story of one man’s radical devotion to God that leads to a girl (who has very little power in a patriarchal society) being slaughtered as a sacrifice. A girl who had no real choice but to submit to her father’s zealous and blind beliefs, even at the cost of her own life. After all, so reasons Jephthah, it was her impulsive actions that brought this tragedy upon them. It seems that blaming the victim to shift blame is a strategy as old as humanity itself. And that Jephthah could actually carry out his vow is chilling. How little value was placed on a woman’s life and personhood in this society? How little, if the community would take for granted that God would find such a sacrifice even remotely acceptable?

The community definitely did not think so when it came to the life of King Saul’s son Jonathan in 1 Samuel 14. After a battle with the Philistines we read that Saul made a rash oath, saying: Cursed be anyone who eats food before it is evening and I have been avenged on my enemies (I Samuel 14:24). Jonathan, Saul’s son did not know about the vow, and so he and the soldiers with him unwittingly ate honey from a honeycomb he discovered. When Saul finds out that soldiers have disobeyed his command he declares: Come here, all you leaders of the people; and let us find out how this sin has arisen today. For as God lives who saves Israel, even if it is in my son Jonathan, he shall surely die! When Saul finds out that Jonathon is in fact the guilty one, he declares that Jonathon must surely be punished with death. Well, not only did the people protest the appropriateness of Saul’s vow, but they also stood up for Jonathan, would not allow him to become a victim and saved his life.

I really don’t know what to make of the story of Jephthah’s young daughter; it seems to have no redeeming qualities. It’s about a self-serving faith that destroyed rather than saved. Maybe the only redeeming quality is that it can function as a warning to us: BEWARE! Maybe if we learn from this tragedy then Jephthah’s unnamed daughter’s death was not in vain.

To live in community is supposed to be beneficial – a safe environment where we support and take care of one another, where we’re supposed to protect the most vulnerable among us. Supposed to… I read an article by Roxanne MtJoy* last week which filled me with doubt as to whether we have learned anything from the story of Jephthah’s daughter.  Roxanne shares with us the modern day horrifying story of Tina Anderson:

In 1997, 15-year-old Tina Anderson became pregnant after being raped repeatedly by an older man she knew from church. Shockingly, when her pastor found out, he forced her to apologize in front of the entire congregation in Concord, New Hampshire, and then promptly helped whisk her away to live in Colorado.

According to Tina, the first time she was raped by Ernest Willis, it was in the back seat of a car after he’d given her a driving lesson. She didn’t tell anyone because she was terrified that she’d be blamed. After being raped by Willis again, Tina became pregnant. Willis, ever the vile human-being, offered to drive her out-of-state for an abortion or to punch her in the stomach to cause a miscarriage. It was at this point that Tina confided in her mother, who in turn notified their pastor, Chuck Phelps.

As it turns out, she was right to fear being blamed. In a disgusting turn of events, Phelps told Tina she would have to go before the entire congregation to apologize for her sins. Excuse me? It seems that Phelps explained to Tina that while Willis “may have been 99 percent responsible,” she needs to confess to her “1 percent guilt in the situation.”

After Tina acquiesced in this humiliating act of victim-blaming, the church and her family shipped her off to live in Colorado against her wishes, where she was instructed to give the baby up for adoption. While Phelps did contact the police about Willis — you know, since he was 99% guilty and all — it became nearly impossible for them to do anything about it since Tina was now hidden away in Colorado.

This appalling story is finally seeing the light of day because Tina Anderson decided to come forward this year. Sadly, it wasn’t until this February that Tina truly realized that the assault on her was, in fact, zero percent her responsibility. That’s when she decided it was time to share her experience with others and to seek justice for what had happened to her as a teenager.

You might have noticed that I am using her real name, something highly unusual in rape cases because victims’ names are protected. This is because Tina wanted it this way. She wanted you to know exactly who she is and what was done to her; not only by Ernest Willis, but by those she entrusted to protect her.

We hear you Tina, and we will share your story, hoping that it will inspire others to speak up for and protect those who are the most vulnerable in their communities, to act compassionately and responsibly.

Kobie

* Roxann MtJoy is a freelance writer and case manager at a domestic violence shelter.

To read the full article, click on the link below:

Teenager Forced to Apologize to Her Church for Being Raped | Women’s Rights | Change.org

http://www.womensrights.change.org

We find Tamar’s story in Genesis 38. First a little info about the author(s) of the book of Genesis: a favorite narrative pattern for him/her is that of the “trickster.”  Often in the Hebrew Scriptures the ancestors of the Israelites are portrayed as the underdogs, those outside the establishment who achieve success in round-about ways. Sometimes the only way for those who were marginalized to confront those in power and achieve their goals was to do so through deception and trickery. So in Genesis we find many tricksters among the ancestors of the Israelites sojourning in foreign lands, among younger sons who would inherit, and among women.* These characters are held up as sources of hope, of hope against all odds. Tamar is one such trickster and is held in high regard by Scripture itself. In fact, so much is she revered than later in the Bible when Boaz and Ruth tie the knot, the elders of the town bless their marriage by saying: May your family be blessed like that of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah. King David is Tamar’s descendant and his own daughter and granddaughter are named after Tamar. That is no small thing, a name said something about a person’s character. This is an ancestor whose name they wore proudly. And ultimately Tamar is one of only five women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy.

Okay, so Scripture has a high regard for Tamar, but alas many readers throughout the centuries did not. She has been described as a vindictive schemer, a wicked woman, an evil temptress, and in some other illustrious language I care not to repeat here. You see, she is guilty of the ultimate taboo: she dressed up as a prostitute to seduce her father-in-law in order to become pregnant. Ha! Now, I have your attention. Before you make any assumptions, let’s start at the beginning of the story.

Tamar, a Canaanite, was married to Er, the eldest son of Judah. Do you remember who Judah was? He was one of Jacob’s twelve sons, and Joseph’s older brother. Yes, the one and the same Judah who with his brothers sold Joseph to slave traders and then spun this tall tale to Jacob that Joseph was killed by a wild animal. (Genesis 37)  Real “upstanding character,” this Judah! Anyway, shortly after their marriage Er dies and this leaves Tamar a childless widow. This was a tragedy on many levels – to conceive a child was a woman’s foremost role and purpose in ancient life. Even more, a male descendant was necessary to ensure that the bloodline continued.  Ancient culture had a back-up plan in case such a tragedy happened and it was called the Levirate marriage, meaning the brother of the deceased had to marry his brother’s widow and conceive a child with her. The child born from this union would then be considered the legal son of the older brother that died. I know, we live worlds apart from the cultural reality in Biblical times, so try not to make rash judgments based on our cultural mores. In an agrarian society to produce offspring was cardinal to survival and many laws developed to ensure the continuation of a family group or clan.

Both Tamar and the living brother were expected to make costly sacrifices to preserve the name of the brother who died. Tamar couldn’t just move on and start a new life. No, she was to have sex with her husband’s brother Onan to conceive a son for her dead husband. Onan also would be making a sacrifice: the son born from the union between Tamar and Onan would not only be considered the son of Er, but would also be the heir to all that rightfully belonged to Er. Judah had three sons. According to ancient law, Judah’s inheritance would be divided into four parts between the three sons. Er as the eldest would inherit the most, namely a double portion. But with Er out of the way, Onan was now the eldest, and with just two sons left to inherit – you do the math. But, if Tamar gets pregnant, the son will inherit Er’s original double portion, and Onan just one fourth of the inheritance.

So, Tamar was passed on to Judah’s second son, Onan. Well, Onan decided to eat his cake without paying for it. Onan did his duty, he had sex with Tamar, many times, but he made sure he didn’t impregnate her by a method as old as humankind – he spilled his seed. So serious was his offense, putting his own selfish greed before the well-being of his family (clan) that we read that God punished him with death. But what can we expect from a son of Judah, who himself put his own selfish greed first, and sold his brother Joseph into slavery. Judah and his brothers were afraid that Jacob would leave his inheritance to Joseph and Benjamin, the children of his beloved wife Rachel. After all, Joseph was having all those dreams that he would be ruling over them – the jealously was eating them alive. Judah and his brothers were the children of Leah, the woman Jacob was tricked into marrying.

What’s going to happen to Tamar now? You guessed it – she now has to marry the youngest brother Shelah. But he is still too young to marry, so Judah sends Tamar back to her father’s house with the promise that when the youngest son comes of age, he will send for her.  Well Tamar, now legally betrothed to Shelah, waits and waits and waits. When the youngest son reaches puberty, there is still no word from Judah. Slowly but surely it dawns on Tamar that Judah is not going to keep his promise. Meanwhile Judah is widowed.

You see, Judah is freaked out – he’s convinced there is some sort of curse on Tamar, so he decides there is no way he is going to marry his youngest off to Tamar. In the eyes of the Biblical writer this is an absolutely unacceptable choice. Judah is choosing his youngest son’s well-being above that of his clan. His responsibility is to put the future of his clan first and that requires that his oldest son’s bloodline must continue.

It is then that Tamar realizes that she’ll have to take matters in her own hands and use deception to achieve her ends. She has no choice. She has no legal recourse, nobody to speak in her defense. Like many other Biblical women she has to become a mother to have a place in society. She has to produce an offspring to ensure the continuation of her husband and his family’s bloodline. The disgrace of her childlessness would be significantly worse if her husband’s name was cut off. She realizes it will be risky and dangerous, but she is willing to make the sacrifice in order to do the very thing Judah should have done, but selfishly was not willing to do. So Tamar puts on a veil (so she would not be recognized), dresses up as a sacred temple prostitute and waits for Judah on a road where he would be passing by. Tamar understood Judah’s character all too well; she knew he would stop and hire her. Only one problem, he cannot pay her, so she asks for some kind of collateral: his seal and his staff. Today that would be equivalent of taking a guy’s credit card and driver’s license. When Judah later sent the son of his friend to pay her for services rendered and retrieve his staff and seal the temple prostitute is nowhere to be found.

Well, three months later, Judah is informed that Tamar is pregnant. He is outraged and sentences her to death. It’s important to point out that when Judah made use of Tamar’s “services” she is identified as a “sacred prostitute,” someone who fulfilled a legitimate Canaanite social role, but when her father-in-law finds out she is pregnant she is identified as a “whore.” Talk about double standards and hypocrisy. Anyway, as head of the family clan Judah has immense power over Tamar and so he sentences her to death. This is the sort of power he had over Tamar even while she was living in her father’s house as a betrothed widow. So he demands: “Bring her out and have her burned to death.” I wonder if he was secretly relieved that now he would be able to get rid of Tamar who was legally betrothed to his youngest son.

As they bring her out to be burned alive she sends a message with his staff and seal to Judah, informing him that she was made pregnant by the man who owns this staff and seal. Judah must have turned white in the face when he recognized his staff and seal. And not for the reason you may think. At that moment he realized the immense selfless sacrifice Tamar did in order to do right by him and his family; how much she had risked to do what he as head of the family so willfully and selfishly neglected to do. And so publicly he admits and confesses his guilt: “She is more righteous than I, since I wouldn’t give her my son Shelah.”

This is the climax of the story, the pivotal point in which in which everything is turned upside down. According to the moral truths of the time, Judah has violated his responsibility and power as head of the family clan by protecting his own interest (his youngest son). But Tamar who was wronged, who as widow had no power, and no legal recourse, risked everything for the well being of the community (the family’s future). She risked everything, willing to make the necessary sacrifice in her determination to see justice done. In comparison with Judah’s major violation, Tamar’s offense is judged minor: “She is more righteous than I.”  Verse 24 mouths the old righteousness of double standards and conventional morality: Your daughter-in-law Tamar has played the whore, moreover she is pregnant as a result of whoredom.” But the insight of verse 25, “She is more righteous than I,” leads to a new radical perception of righteousness.

According to Scripture Tamar was the righteous one – she sided with God and did the right thing. And God blessed Tamar abundantly; it turned out she was pregnant with twins – seen as an amazing blessing in ancient cultures. And from the bloodline of the oldest, Perez, King David is a descendant, and later Jesus.

But Tamar also rescued Judah. The story of Tamar in chapter 38 is sandwiched within the story of Joseph in Genesis chapters 37 – 50. In chapter 37, Judah is part of an ugly conspiracy: selling Joseph into slavery and then telling Jacob that Joseph was killed. That news nearly killed Jacob. Meanwhile Joseph becomes the right hand of Pharaoh. Later, after the Tamar episode, when Judah and his brothers go to Egypt to buy food during the seven year drought, Joseph is the one overseeing the distribution but they don’t recognize him. Joseph wants to find out if his brothers have changed at all, so he places one of his cups in his brother Benjamin’s bag and then arrests them for stealing it and declares that the one in whose bag the cup is found will become his slave. When the cup is found in Benjamin’s bag Judah steps forward and explains that it will be the death of Jacob if something happens to Benjamin and then Judah does an amazing gesture of selflessness: he offers himself up to be taken as slave in the place of Benjamin. This is not the same Judah who sold Joseph into slavery or willfully neglected to ensure that his family’s bloodline would continue through Tamar.

The stories of women in Scripture never cease to amaze me. They are profound stories of hope, shining light to the outsider, the outcast, the marginalized, the disenfranchised, and the powerless. Such a shame that Tamar’s story is not preached more often (or at all) from the pulpit.

Kobie

* To read more about these stories, see Alice Ogden Bellis’ book: Helpmates, Harlots, and Heroes: Women’s Stories in the Hebrew Bible (2007).

A girlfriend of mine (staying true to our theme, I’ll let her remain nameless) has this tendency to ask me the most challenging and probing questions about faith, God, and theology which literally makes me sweat. I have taught many Bible Studies over the years, and have found myself many times in the proverbial “pastors hot seat” – being asked difficult questions, but what makes my friend’s questions so challenging, is that I don’t dare give her any stock answers. No patronizing, no dismissing, no impressive theological lingua, no easy answers are accepted. I need to think carefully before I answer, because she’ll call me out if I contradict myself. If I look for an easy way out, she’ll just look me straight in the eyes and remind me that my answer is now finding itself on shaky ground. “It sounds too New Age,” she would say.  Unbeknownst to her, in her quest to find meaning and make sense of her own journey of faith, she has sent me back to the drawing board many times, challenging me to re-formulate and rethink my theology, throw out old ideas and arguments that don’t make sense anymore, pick the brains of the theologians I admire, and above all immerse myself in Scripture once again, struggling with the text, joining the many writers in Scripture in conversation as we try to make sense of the God we experience as real in our lives. And I’m a better pastor for it, my friend. Thanks.

She kind of reminds me of a nameless woman in Scripture who not only challenges Jesus but seems to influence him in changing his mind. In Matthew 15:21-28 we read about a Canaanite woman (in Mark 7:24-30 she is identified as a Syro-Phoenecian woman) who approaches Jesus, pleading with him to cast out a demon who is tormenting her daughter.  At first Jesus ignores her, but she keeps on following them, and pleading out loud for her daughter. She makes such an annoyance of her self, that the disciples urge Jesus to send her away: Please get rid of her, for she keeps shouting after us. I can just imagine this in a modern context, Jesus and the disciples walking down the street, with a seemingly crazy woman following them and screaming after them.  But it’s more than just that, it was also socially unacceptable for a woman to approach men and dare to talk to them, and even to plead on behalf of her daughter was unacceptable – it would only be appropriate for her husband or father to do so. But it’s not only because she is a woman that they want her to just disappear, it’s also her ethnicity.

Jesus turns around and addresses her, making it clear he is not going to help her: I was sent only to help the lost sheep of the House of Israel. As a Canaanite or Syro-Phoenecian woman she is of course not from Israel and thus an outsider. Instead of walking away defeated, she falls down on her knees and begs Jesus to help her: Rabbi, help me! Still Jesus seems reluctant to help her: It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs, he answers. Words that sting. Biblical scholars have tried to explain away these harsh words, reminding us that Jesus’ answer was probably a common expression, and that we should not take these words too literally – meaning Jesus is not actually comparing the woman to a dog. Yet, these words sting and are insensitive and offensive – the metaphor disdainful, at best ungracious. This story paints a picture of a different part of Jesus’ character that we are not used to seeing – in most stories in the gospels Jesus is shown to us as a compassionate healer.

Amazingly the woman doesn’t visibly take offense, but rather challenges the very excuse Jesus is using to explain his unwillingness to help her: Yes, Rabbi, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.  Usually in the gospels, Jesus is the one who challenges people’s preconceived ideas and prejudices, but in this story it is the woman who challenges Jesus’ preconceived idea of the purpose of his ministry, namely that he came to seek and save ONLY the lost sheep of Israel. And so her retort is credited for changing Jesus’ mind regarding the purpose of his ministry and the consequent healing of her daughter.  Her retort is credited for changing Jesus’ narrow view of his ministry to a broader, more inclusive understanding of his purpose. And so, appropriately, the Gospel of Matthew concludes with Jesus instructing his disciples: Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…

It was from an ethnic outsider, a woman in a sexist society, a marginalized person, that Jesus was able to learn more about his messiahship and the meaning of his ministry; a woman who refused to accept the rationale of Jesus’ excuse.  She refused to accept his claim of exclusivity for his healing ministry.  She claimed her own power and challenged Jesus with the legitimacy of her request and so became the catalyst which illuminated Jesus’ own understanding of his ministry.

So Jesus turned to her and said: Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done as you wish.

It seems we have much to learn from those NAMELESS women in Scripture,

Kobie

It’s easy to love lovable people, but the hard to love people, those we feel contempt towards are the real challenges. When it comes to “love your neighbor” Jesus expects all who follow him to show a love for others which is quite out of the ordinary:

TO YOU WHO ARE READY FOR THE TRUTH, I SAY THIS:

Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face, stand there and take it. If someone grabs your shirt, gift wrap your best coat and make a present of it. If someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously.

Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them! If you only love the lovable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that. If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity? The stingiest of pawnbrokers does that.

I tell you, love your enemies. Help and give without expecting a return. You’ll never—I promise—regret it. Live out this God-created identity the way our Abba God lives toward us, generously and graciously, even when we’re at our worst. Our God is kind; you be kind.

Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. Don’t condemn those who are down; that hardness can boomerang. Be easy on people; you’ll find life a lot easier. Give away your life; you’ll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity. (Luke 6:27-38) *

Jesus was and is radical, and he seriously offended a lot of people with his teachings. Yes, the good news of Jesus comforts us, but it also disturbs us. Truth be told, if you don’t find yourself squirming over the difficult demands of the Christian lifestyle, you either have not read Jesus’ teachings or you attend a church where the pastor shies away from Jesus’ contentious teachings.

Bart Campolo could have been a pastor in the suburbs, but he chose to minister to a low socio-economic inner city community as he imitates Jesus who spent most of his time ministering to the poor, the outcast, and the stranger – those on the fringes of society. We are told that he often ate with tax collectors, sinners, prostitutes, those whose social status many frowned upon. Jesus didn’t set up a church in a nice area of Nazareth – he left his home to seek out the lost, the broken ones. It’s in an impoverished urban neighborhood of Cincinnati that Bart realized what the writer of the First Letter of John really meant when he said: Let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. (1 John 4:7-8)

Terry Gains once wrote:

Today’s church experience is all about feeling good about yourself. “I’m okay, you’re okay. God loves you and you’re a good person. We won’t talk about nasty issues that make you uncomfortable such as capital punishment, racism, and similar issues. We’re saved; we will give others a chance to have our salvation if they will come to our church; if not, it’s a shame.” Hiding behind this theology is an attitude suggesting that the unsaved deserve their unfortunate conditions. “The poor, the criminal, the unlikable, and the unconventional created their own misery…. The pastor wants to be popular, and must avoid all controversy and unpleasant topics. The secret is to appease members so as not to lose any; we must maintain church growth. It helps when church members can feel they are in a very select or elite group knowing there are plenty of persons left out, and they deserve it. We want to be assured that our many possessions are not sinful despite of what Jesus said about materialism. As long as we go the church and take our loyal oath to Jesus, proclaiming him a good guy, everything will be all right. *

While these churches on the edges of suburbs draw so many people, most shy away from the small urban and inner city churches where the need is the greatest. It is then that someone such as Bart Campolo comes along and reminds us what “a follower of Jesus Christ” is all about.

Has Jesus offended you yet? Are you feeling uncomfortable? If not, then you have not heard the gospel yet!

Kobie

* Translation used for Luke 6:27-38 is from The Message.

* From Lions and Cows Dining Together by Terry Gains, 2005

This week I want you to watch the video clip below called A Loving Contempt. In it Bart Campolo* shares with us his experiences of doing ministry in an urban neighborhood. A few years back Bart and his family moved to an impoverished urban neighborhood in Cincinnati, Ohio to love and support the community. But it’s not that simple. In this clip he shares some of the messiness of their relationships.

What are your impressions of Bart’s experience? What do think or feel about his statements about loving those people we feel contempt for? How do you deal with those hard to love people in your own life? I would love to hear your responses.  Next week we will explore this theme some more.

I’m leaving you with some serious food for thought this week,

Kobie

*Bart Campolo is the founder of Mission Year and is the leader of a local ministry in inner city Cincinnati called The Walnut Hills Fellowship.

If you have any trouble viewing the video you can see it here.

The apostle Paul writes this letter to the church in Corinth who find themselves embroiled in a serious conflict within the congregation. To be part of a church is to be part of a community which is full of diversity; diverse personalities and theological view points, ministry programs, small groups, mission projects etc. Most of the time there is enough room in the church for this diversity to coexist – that is, until resources such as space, time, and money become scarce, or something breaks down, or social pressures cause one group to insist their way is the only way, or self-interest presents itself as self-righteousness, to name but a few. It is then that tensions rise, hurtful things are said, sometimes tempers are lost, and the gossip mill works overtime.  It is then that the apostle Paul reminds us to PRACTICE love. For Paul, love is about not feelings but action. It lies at the core of our relationship with God. In response to the enduring, patient and compassionate love we experience from God, we in turn are to love our neighbors. Remember that short little verse about what God asks from us; to love God above all and our neighbor as ourselves. We are to become the presence of God’s love in the world. We are to be the agents of God’s love and grace in this world. And in 1 Corinthians 13 the apostle Paul describes to us how this love should present itself:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

These are not sentimental words; these words ask that the spirit of love guide us in the way we relate to others. Many times we are tempted, just as the Expert in the Law, to rationalize our “loveless” actions and decisions. You remember, in Luke 10, after Jesus told the expert to love God and his neighbor, the Expert tried to rationalize his choices by asking precisely who his neighbor was – should I really love even my enemies and those people that are hard to love? So Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13:

If we speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, we’re nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If we speak God’s Word with power, revealing all God’s mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if we have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but we don’t love, we’re nothing. If we give everything we own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but we don’t love, we’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what we say, what we believe, and what we do, we’re bankrupt without love.

It’s not only in times of conflict that we struggle to practice love. What about the times we become impatient, irritable, or disappointed with those who we minister to, those who receive our care who just don’t seem able to change or conform to our expectations; people who just don’t seem able to pull themselves together and leave behind their self-destructive lives. We think we know what is right for them, how they should fix their lives. We are troubled and embarrassed by troubles that do not go away. (Phillip Yancey)

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled. We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing God directly just as God knows us!

We struggle with enduring love. When some one  falls ill in the congregation, or loses a loved one to death, or has a serious illness, they are usually initially showered with love, compassion and concern; many visits, many cards, many phone calls – but as time moves on and the grief or illness stretches out over time, the visits and calls come less and less often. As the suffering person’s emotional needs increase, they find themselves more and more alone and vulnerable. We sort of get impatient with people if they grieve too long and over time tend to avoid or forget those longsuffering souls in our midst. It’s a reality many with recurring illness, such as cancer, are all too familiar with.

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

There is nothing sentimental about the image of love Paul sets before the church. Such love is active, tough, resilient, and long-suffering. (Lewis Galloway)

Some food for thought on your journey of faith,

till next week,

Kobie

Translation used for 1 Corinthians (in red throughout the reflection) comes from The Message.

Credit for the pastoral interpretation used for this reflection belongs to Lewis E. Galloway (Feasting on the Word, 2009).