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Archive for the ‘textures’ Category

The design of life is shot through with extraordinary ironies. ‘Poetic justice’ is one tried and true expression that attempts to define this.

One of the odd symmetries of reality is that we become what we chase after. It is the logic in the deep structure of creation that generates what theologians eventually come to call ‘sanctification’ and ‘depravity’. A thousand saintly techniques crumble before one truth: when we pursue what is holy, we become more holy. The encyclopedia of sin and idolatry is equally predictable from this angle of view: we become tragically like the idols that we waste our lives pursuing.

It is an arrangement of twinned promise and threat. Yet none of it is theatrical or false. This is simply how things are.

Hear the word of the Lord, O house of Jacob, and all the clans of the house of Israel. Thus says the Lord: ‘What wrong did your fathers find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthlessness, and became worthless?’ (Jeremiah 2:4–5 ESV)

The Hebrew prophet plays here upon one of the Hebrew Bible’s most potent negatives: הבל,  ‘worthless’, ‘vanity’, utter moral weightlessness. It is a commonplace—though a pungent one—for the prophets to label all manner of glorious idols with this pejorative claim. But it is a deep insight into the dynamics of being human to recognize that we become what we treasure.

If an idol is inert, so do we lose the efficacy of will, the gigantic capacity to decide who we will become. If an idol is glitzy, so do we become flecked with cheap reflections that conceal the emptiness within. If an idol is elevated above its peers, so do we fall prey to the hubris of the unique and the special.

But if, the prophet would have us know—since despair is not his end game—, if we pursue the Ineffable, the Most High, the Holy One of Israel, we become better than we were. By grace and imitation, not by technique or exertion.

Things become simple.

 

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Against all the protestations of shame, your past does not define you.

What you have been is not coterminous with who you are. Or will be.

This, at least, is YHWH’s promise to his despondent exiles in Babylon.

‘Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,’ says the Lord. (Isaiah 54:1 ESV)

If there is a greater shame than childlessness in the Bible’s Old Testament, it is difficult to say what that should be. Perhaps only having borne children and lost them could compete with never having children at all, so deep does this feature of the cultural realia reach into the Bible’s sacred literature.

In the turn-tables book of Isaiah, YHWH is having none of it.

She who has not split the air with the shrieks of childbirth will find recompense in shouts of joy, late coming.

All of human experience argues that only what has been shall ever be. Again, YHWH is having none of this curiously persuasive logic. He is the Creator of new things, things unspoken, things unimagined, deepest longings too savage and powerful for words. He meets them, satisfies them, creates them, endorses them, then liberates his own to become them.

The Bible’s ‘religion’ is no tame creed.

It is wild, counterintuitive, impossible, then real. Life with YHWH knows no bounds save those that loving providence establishes.

As the barren woman restored in a moment to fecundity finds children streaming to her that she did not bear, so YHWH’s future comes in spades from angles never contemplated. Yet her children are hers, his gift, stomped down, compressed, overflowing.

She forgets to miss the biological progeny of her dashed dream, so occupied with this tumbling, laughing harvest of children unforeseen. They laugh noisily. Only her delight is louder.

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It may be that Esther’s mental state at a crucial moment in her mediated dialogue with her Uncle Mordecai is signaled by one small Hebrew word.

And they told Mordecai what Esther had said. Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, ‘Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?’ (Esther 4:12–14 ESV)

(more…)

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Sometimes the tears must flow. To stop them would be to tell the lie that things are not so bad.

The Bible’s masterfully told story of Esther has the unlikely queen’s uncle leading the mournful charge as the Jewish community in exile faces extermination. In that way of cloistered royalty, Queen Esther seems the last to know, the last to come to terms with the imminent extinction of her people. Palaces can be oblivious places. (more…)

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The Chronicler of Israel/Judah is often faulted for a tendentious and rigid view of his nation’s history. To be fair, one resorts to brief summaries of any complex reality when a word count is in the mix. And an ancient manuscript imposes hard-wired volume limits on any writer.

Read sympathetically, neither of the two great biblical histories of Israel requires the conclusion that their authors were beady-eyed ideologues. (more…)

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Power turns the heart of those we would never expect capable of using it wrongly. Power moves hands that had previously been clean in darting, surreptitious ways. Power corrupts good men and good women.

When Jehoshaphat was reforming the kingdom of Judah, he set the bar high for those who would wield power in the context of local disputes. He seemed to anticipate both the blessing and the bane that come with distributing power among men who are but flesh and therefore susceptible to its distorting force. (more…)

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In the judgement of the Hebrew Bible’s two great histories of Israel and Judah, these kingdoms were dismally served by their kings. When the reader happens upon a noble king in the chronology of monarchs, he breathes fresh air. For a moment, the sky clears itself of its gray steel. (more…)

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The Hebrew Bible’s core claim about YHWH is that ‘there is no one like you’. He is incomparable.

Nowhere is YHWH’s singularity more apparent than when nothing and on one but YHWH could possible save his people from their proximate peril. (more…)

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Yesterday, a man drove a delivery truck over a crowd of people celebrating France’s Bastille Day. 84 people are dead.

As I write this, the New York Times digital edition screams

Coup Attempt Plunges Turkey Into Chaos; President, on iPhone, Urges Resistance

A neighbor intercepted me for a pleasant chat as Rhea and I trudged back just now from our evening run. A pleasant woman, a decent soul, a salt-of-the-earth neighbor, no wide-eyed fanatic, she. ‘We are spinning down incredibly fast’, she commented. (more…)

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As the Psalter works its way down the home stretch toward its finale in the 150th psalm, the gloves come off. Doxology reaches to a stretch, digs down to bedrock, summons even the unseen powers and convenes heaven’s lights.

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights! Praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his hosts!

Praise him, sun and moon, praise him, all you shining stars! Praise him, you highest heavens, and you waters above the heavens!

Let them praise the name of the Lord! For he commanded and they were created. And he established them forever and ever; he gave a decree, and it shall not pass away.

(Psalm 148:1–6 ESV)

In the ancient Israelite context, calling upon sun and moon to praise their Maker is brave: they were often worshiped as gods themselves. It is also polemical: they are put in their place.

They do not seem to mind, in the psalmist’s opinion, though worshippers of the heavenly bodies might beg to differ. The psalmist imagines heaven’s lights praising YHWH at full throat simply for the privilege of having been created at his command so that they can do so.

There is, we are asked to accept, no corner of heaven or earth where praise is rightly withheld. If there is war in heaven, celestial conspiracies afoot, they are forgotten as the psalmist reaches forward to how things should be. Will be.

The most awesome, the most mighty, the high and almost holy, even these burst into song when their time comes. They know their place, and are glad in it.

How much more we mortals, elevated as we are now to sing along without too much embarrassment about our little voices, trembling hands, sad yesterdays.

Perhaps He commanded us, too, into existence so that we could sing like this, eyes moist because we are not yet fully home.

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