Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Proverbs, textures on August 21, 2009| Leave a Comment »
A form of wickedness mixes longing for improved status with a sense of entitlement, then shakes vigorously. The recipe makes a deadly cocktail.
The craving of the lazy person is fatal,
for lazy hands refuse to labor.
It is one thing, we are instructed to understand, not to aspire to a better lot. The nicer homes and fuller accounts just a block away might well hold no appeal. One is born to this lot, not some other, and waddles unreflectively in it. (more…)
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Proverbs, textures on June 20, 2009| 1 Comment »
In one important way a friend lacks what a brother possesses by definition: shared blood.
Yet in one important aspect the friend defies this elemental distinction, acting for all intents and purposes like the best of brothers: a friend is present permanently as can only be expected of the best of brothers.
The biblical collector of proverbs does not miss out on this most stubborn comfort:
A friend loves at all times,
and kinsfolk are born to share adversity.
As one tips toward the tribal end of the scale of social glues, the friend’s behavior becomes all the more remarkable.
The woman who finds herself navigating life’s most turbulent waters with family aboard is a fortunate woman, yet a true friend in the mix—even if only one—makes her richer still. A man does battle, sadly, against all manner of treachery, disappointment, and fickle allies. Yet just one friend makes adversity a passing affliction rather than the anteroom to ruin.
This permanence, this stickiness, this circumstantial ubiquity can be expected of blood ties. A friend does it because he chooses.
There is one, perhaps two or at most three comparable kinds of wealth in the whole world. That is all.
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Psalms, textures on June 14, 2009| Leave a Comment »
The biblical tradition struggles mightily with the apparent excesses of YHWH’s commitment to David and his city.
It is unlike the Mosaic tradition to make promises without outlining the responsibilities that accrue to divine generosity. Yet one or two of the classic ‘Davidic’ or ‘Zion’ covenantal statements do just that. In my judgement, the largest theological errors lie by the side of the road where one attempts to restrict divine liberty. Still, we ought to consider the possibility that an implicit conditionality inhabits even the most absolute YHWH-promises to David and his offspring. At the end of the day, YHWH is in the biblical drama a master at the creative rescuing of situations placed in peril by human weakness, stubbornness, or both.
If these caveats sound obtuse and at some remove from the text that lies before us, they are not unlinked to it. The tradition’s very struggle suggests that angles of view that we might label as ‘theological’ emerge from the content of the YHWH-promises themselves.
Leave it to the psalms—arguably one of the less cautious genres when it comes to articulating things that really matter—to juxtapose YHWH’s sure oath to David to an outsized if that towers above Zion and its royal/religious edifices:
The LORD swore to David a sure oath
from which he will not turn back:
‘One of the sons of your body
I will set on your throne.
If your sons keep my covenant
and my decrees that I shall teach them,
their sons also, forevermore,
shall sit on your throne.’ (Psalm 132:11-12 NRSV)
Though a pedantic logician might swallow hard at the appearance of naive contradiction, the tradition that is here inscripted is conscious of two realities. First, the poetic legacy is well aware of YHWH’s inscrutable decisiveness. Second, it will not disavow the deeply rooted responsibility that YHWH’s uncanny way with those upon whom his love falls presses into the lives of those who seem rarely to have reached out to him. More often such people—David chief among them—become ensnared in the web of divine amour. They find it difficult—if, in theory, not impossible—to break free from the tenacious, enwrapping netting that has found their feet, their legs, their arms, then all of them.
YHWH promises. Human beings more or less screw up the postlude. YHWH finds a way.
On such a dialectic redemption, this world, and the next appear somewhat safely—if not without tragedy—to hang.
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Proverbs, textures on June 13, 2009| 2 Comments »
We could go to school on the strength of how we react to calamity suffered by another. Our response tells us that much about ourselves.
He who mocks the poor shows contempt for their Maker;
whoever gloats over disaster will not go unpunished.
The German language loans us English speakers the delicious term Schadenfreude. It is the joy one feels upon observing another’s loss. This often unanticipated response represents one of evil’s deepest impresses upon our life.
The biblical anthology of accrued wisdom tell us that Schadenfreude is not a mere defect in our social skills. Rather it spits in the face of the poor man’s Maker. It allows us to glimpse something we believe that is too awful for utterance and so only rarely rises to the level of awareness. That something is a hellish doctrine: the suffering of another means less than mine, is more deserved than my own, and ought to bring no sorrow to my more superior heart.
Such conviction smells of sulphur. We cover it well, mask its stench, posture ourselves to lean against it when people are looking.
The proverbial anthology knows both the damage Schadenfreude inflicts upon human community and the judgment it brings upon those who feel its brief, shallow thrill.
Schadenfreude is a deadly serious matter, a canary in the mine that leads its explorer ever onward towards the Accuser who lurks deep within. So long as it passes unremarked, he knows the sound of footsteps that press inexorably, satisfyingly towards his lair. He need not lift a finger, for hell’s direction is set and unaltered.
Posted in textures on May 29, 2009| 3 Comments »
La interpretación de un texto tan alusivo y escaso de detalles como lo es la palabra contra ‘Ariel’ en Isaías 29.1-8, es notoriamente difícil.
‘Ariel’ en sí no presenta problemas. Es un sustantivo compuesto que significa ‘léon/leonisa de Dios’. Es casi seguro que se refiere a Jerusalén. La tradición sionista/Jerusalemita le da un supremo valor a la urbe, enfoque de su atención. De hecho, el tema de la inviolabilidad de Jerusalén amenaza de vez en cuando con anular de la conciencia, la responsabilidad social y ética de sus líderes.
Aún si la problemática del pasaje no residiera en los mencionados detalles, no es por eso menos prominente. La interpretación se vuelve dificultosa cuando se reflexiona sobre dos puntos: el significado de denominar a Jerusalén bajo el sobrenombre ‘Ariel’ y el destino de la ciudad.
El sobrenombre es a lo mejor un intento irónico. Es decir, en el momento de caer bajo la condenación del profeta, la ciudad se considera a sí misma como una leonisa de Dios, cuando en realidad está muy lejos de cumplir con las connotaciones leoninas. Ella es una ciudad sitiada, amenazada y patética. El sobrenombre enfatiza la promesa perdida en su condición de ciudad escogida por YHVH.
Por otro lado, la dinámica de los oráculos contra las naciones probablemente sigue siendo pertinente en este pasaje. Específicamente, el juicio proclamado cae sobre la ciudad escogida, dejando al final un breve momento para mencionar la sorprendente restauración de la misma. En el caso que tenemos entre manos, este acercamiento nos conduce a implicaciones concretas con respecto a la doble mención de un ‘sueño’ que ocurre en los versos 7 y 8.
Leyendo la mencionada imagen dentro del contexto que augura la restauración de Jerusalén, los ‘soñadores’ no son los residentes de Sión, sino las mismas naciones, son ellas, según esta interpretación, las que sueñan con devorar a Jerusalén. Al despertar de aquella visión nocturna, desvanecida por la luz de la mañana, ellas siguen tan sedientas y hambrientas como el día anterior, su mordaz sentido de destrucción queda insatisfecho.
No así para Sión, quien a pesar de ser una leonisa incapaz de defenderse, es la leonisa de Dios, garante de su esperanza. Si es que se somete a los términos del juicio de Dios y confía en la capacidad inherente de YHVH para crear futuro.
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Proverbs, textures on May 29, 2009| Leave a Comment »
The proverbs are both too intelligent and too discerning to walk the fast path of easy description. The reader who lingers long over this anthology of accumulated wisdom learns to detect gradations rather than bold lines. Even those proverbs which appear at first sight to traffic in simple bifurcations of human character and deportment prove, upon further inspection, to do no such thing. Rather, they find their wisdom-giving context when placed alongside dicta that seem to prove their opposite. It is in the dialectical jumble and in the context of human minds careful enough not to name themselves among the wise that true discernment takes its low-profile shape.
Sometimes a single proverb will run this risk of simple bifurcation. Yet it dodges the lethal simplification that makes truisms of such declarations rather then employing them as the potent diagnostic tools they actually long to become in human hands. It is to be expected that the dialectic between human intention and the divine arrangement of things should be a proving ground for this kind of nuanced understanding:
The human mind plans the way,
but the LORD directs the steps.
A kind of seasoned ear hears this dictum best in its more ancient English style:
A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.
The interpretive key here is the word rendered ‘but’. The Hebrew conjunction ‘vav’ (sometimes ‘waw’) allows the reader wide discretion in detecting or constructing its meaning. ‘But’ is an adversative. It sets one statement against another. The English translators have done well in choosing the word to render the Hebrew conjunction. (more…)
Posted in textures on May 25, 2009| Leave a Comment »
La retórica de la segunda mitad de Isaías revela una actitud quejosa de parte de Israel/Judá/Jerusalén, insinuándose como víctima de las circunstancias y los hechos de YHVH. Por el contrario, la voz profética insiste en que Judá debe afrontar la responsabilidad de su situación y realizar un arduo esfuerzo para esperar en el futuro de YHVH. Futuro al cual Judá tendrá acceso solo por medio de la sumisión al consejo de YHVH.
Esta actitud es manifiesta en Isaías 50 ante el supuesto divorcio que Israel/Judá ha sufrido a manos de su esposo, YHVH.
Así dice el SEÑOR:
¿A la madre de ustedes, la he repudiado?
¿Dónde está el acta de divorcio?
¿A cuál de mis acreedores los he vendido?
Por causa de sus iniquidades,
fueron ustedes vendidos;
por las transgresiones de ustedes
fue despedida su madre.
¿Por qué no había nadie cuando vine?
¿Por qué nadie respondió cuando llamé?
¿Tan corta es mi mano que no puede rescatar?
¿Me falta acaso fuerza para liberarlos?
El profeta toma el argumento de los aparentemente ofendidos y se lo aplica a ellos mismos. Según él, YHVH es en realidad el ofendido. Él no es el responsable principal del supuesto divorcio que Israel/Judá ha sufrido, sino ellos. Sus propios hechos han producido esta separación.
YHVH bien pudo haber resuelto la crisis. Es más, él se hizo presente particularmente para realizar este propósito. Pero nadie respondió a su ofrecimiento.
El pueblo dudó de la buena voluntad y/o de la capacidad de YHVH. El distanciamiento que para siempre marcó la vida del pueblo es producto de esa permanente duda.
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Isaías, Isaiah, reflexión bíblica, texturas, textures on May 25, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Isaías 25.1-5 se constituye en una oda de celebración ante la victoria sobre los ‘tiranos’ y los ‘crueles’ de la tierra que YHVH lleva a cabo en defensa de los pobres e indefensos. La tradición isaíanica está convencida de lo que se podría titular ‘la ética del Éxodo’. Es decir, YHVH no es imparcial ante la tormenta que los vulnerables sufren cuando el poder se concentra en manos de unos pocos poderosos.
El agradecimiento que motiva este paisaje es patente en los versos 4 y 5:
Porque tú has sido,
en su angustia,
un baluarte para el desvalido,
un refugio para el necesitado,
un resguardo contra la tormenta,
una sombra contra el calor.
En cambio, el aliento de los crueles
es como una tormenta contra un muro,
como el calor en el desierto.
Tú aplacas el tumulto de los extranjeros,
como se aplaca el calor bajo la sombra de una nube,
y ahogas la alharaca de los tiranos.
Un libro tan realista como Isaías asume la triste realidad que los que viven sin poder van a sufrir en manos de los que lo poseen. El elemento positivo de su mensaje no consiste en que YHVH no permita que esto suceda, al contrario, la injusticia es una realidad.
La tradición que el profeta Isaías promueve insiste en que YHVH considera semejante injusticia como motivo de guerra y que en consecuencia, él sale a pelear a favor de los que en un momento dado se convertirán en sus rescatados, sus redimidos, sus agradecidos.
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, John, textures on May 25, 2009| Leave a Comment »
One might imagine that knowing Jesus were a matter of mastering certain details. His antecedents, his persona, his intentions, his purpose.
Contrary to subjectivity’s noisy heralds—for they are legion—these matters are indeed essential to knowing him, to knowing anyone. The elevation of ‘relationship’ and ‘experience’ as self-evident and absolute priorities is, one hopes, a passing fad. Yet it will cause heavy casualties before its demise. One must know some facts if one is to truly know a person. This once did not require statement and we’ll get there again or civilization will have passed us by entirely.
Yet John’s gospel reminds us of the relational, moral character of knowing Jesus. Revelation, though it bears myriad and critical facts, is not an abstract process. It occurs as Jesus and his followers relate responsibly and—in our case—obediently to each other. (more…)
Posted in textures, tagged biblical reflection, Proverbs, textures on May 16, 2009| Leave a Comment »
The density of the biblical proverbs allows the mistaken impression that the editor of these sayings is playing purposelessly with syllables. A quick read breezes by what it mistakes for truism when in fact a patient loitering around the saying is capable of uncovering a deeper truth.
Proverbs 15.13 is a case in point:
A glad heart makes a cheerful countenance,
but by sorrow of heart the spirit is broken.
One might suppose that a would-be poet with a penchant for lining up nice-sounding words has painted gold leaf around the mundane. ‘Happy = happy, sad = sad’ might be all this saying has to offer. Ornament trumps substance. There is, by this reading, very little here.
But the proverbialist is more intelligent than this and has accrued the right to be heard with more respect. What he is getting at is the deep inevitability of what one might call personal osmosis. What is on the inside will eventually find its way out. A man or a woman can keep up the charade of happiness only so long when the rot of sorrow is in the bones.
The proverb observes the priority of what a different era might call the life of the soul. If the soulful essence of a man trembles with joy, the face will show it, perhaps in the moment but necessarily over the long haul. By contrast, what the proverb describes as the spirit—here something like the observable genius of a particular human being—will eventually show the cracks, fissures, and seismic separations that occur when the heart, deep down, is stricken by sorrow.
The collector of biblical proverbs knows that a human being is an integral unit. One can play at contradiction, one can enact a theater of the self by which masks are changed as often as circumstances require. Yet eventually, incessantly, irrevocably, the true state of a woman finds its way to the face, where discerning onlookers note the fleeting shadow that casts itself across the eyes when the heart, deep below, is sick.
Canter Bridge 