Who is our neighbor?

Kirby, in reaction one of my comments on his blog, wrote a post in his usual incendiary style, WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR. At the center of our disagreement is a limited notion of neighborness on Kirby's part, vs. an unlimited notion on mine. Kirby thinks this is important, as do I.

Anyway, I wrote a long two-part comment in response to a challenge from Brett, who felt that I was resting too much of my argument on the parable of the Good Samaritan. I think he had a good point, but ultimately, my reading of the parable of the Good Samaritan reflected a much more broadly scripturally-based understanding of key concepts that occur in that parable, and in our discussion of it.

I'm taking this opportunity to correct some infelicities in formatting and language in that extended comment, and to develop my thoughts a bit further.

There is a serious philosophical problem here, and it should not be glossed over. How do we interpret scripture, and especially, the stories, teachings, and parables of Jesus. Does each story refer to a limited set of circumstances, or is it Jesus's (i.e., God's—we're trinitarians here) intent to illustrate the general through the specific? Clearly, I believe the latter. It cannot be, e.g., that the right definition of “neighbor” for Kirby consists of all of the people he feels positively disposed to, plus a Samaritan who lived and died two millennia ago. That would have robbed the parable of it's purpose.

I know that some will object, but I think Ockham's Razor applies here. We should seek the simplest theory that is consistent with scriptural evidence. My theory is that Jesus's intent is that everyone is our neighbor; that it is not God's will that we harden our heart to anyone.

Indeed, that is the classical language, to harden one's heart against someone, which means no more than to define someone as not being a neighbor, someone whose pain and suffering is immaterial to us, indeed, which we might even wish to cause.

In the NSRV, there are only four passages where the word “harden” and “heart” co-occur; three in Exodus, referring to God hardening Pharaoh's heart within the Exodus story, and the following, a major dissertation waiting to happen—

Isaiah 63:17 Why, O LORD, do you make us stray from your ways and harden our heart, so that we do not fear you? Turn back for the sake of your servants, for the sake of the tribes that are your heritage.

Forgiveness

In interpreting the story of the Good Samaritan, especially as regards the priest and robbers, I look to passages in the New Testament that deal with forgiveness:

Matthew 18:20–22 Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

Admittedly, this refers only to members of the church—certainly an anachronistic claim in Matthew! But I think it is reasonable to assume that there is a legitimate Jesus pericope that underlies this, in which “church” would have been “neighbor.” Here is another:

Mark 11:25 “Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses.”

This does have universality. If we're to forgive anyone who we hold something against, how can we then say that that person is not our neighbor?

And then, there's this verse:

Luke 6:37–38 “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.”

Again, there is no limit w.r.t. whom we are to forgive. I assume that it means anyone who has given us offense. Everyone is our neighbor.

And to be perfectly honest, there is this:

John 20:22–23 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

The problem for the Kirbys of the world is that we don't get to interpret this in isolation. There are those other verses. How can we retain the sins against any one that is God's?

Neighbor

The notion of neighbor has a nontrivial history in Old Testament and New Testament thought, along with the notion of God. During the monarchical period, YHWH was viewed as a national God of Israel and Judah, and a clear distinction was made between citizen/neighbor (i.e., fellow Jew) and alien. Yet even so, God required of Israel and Judah that no distinction in treatment be made between neighbor and alien.

Leviticus 19:33–34 When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.

and again,

Leviticus 24:22 You shall have one law for the alien and for the citizen: for I am the LORD your God.

and this,

Jeremiah 7:5–7 For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your ancestors forever and ever.

But in the exile, the Jewish people began to develop a new conception. YHWH was not just the God of Israel (their only God), but indeed, the only God, and so God of all the nations. This is sometimes called “strong monotheism,” and it is hard to remember after 2500 years that a weaker monotheism was once the norm. But a concomitant of a universal God is the notion that all people are God's people. The word “alien” hardly occurs post-Ezekiel.

Finally, consider this:

Matthew 5:43–48 “You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

It is not just one story, but a consistent, coherent message. Our God is one God, the only God, and God of all people. Every one who is God's is our neighbor.

Peace

The Rivers of Babylon

I'm going to be giving a three session class on the Psalms in December as a part of my congregation's adult education. It's a big topic, and not too soon for me to get started.

The Psalms are sometimes called “Israel's Hymnal,” which is surely an oversimplification. But having said so, the point behind today's essay is that the Psalms still inspire song writers, and not just hymn writers. By way of evidence, consider

Psalm 137. By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”   How could we sing the LORD'S song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither! Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.   Remember, O LORD, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem's fall, how they said, “Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!” O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!

This is a unique Psalm in many respects. Robert Alter, in the introduction to his commentary and translation “The Book of Psalms,” characterizes it as an “anti-Psalm.” Psalms of lament often follow an arc that ends with praise: this Psalm goes from lament, to curses, to fury. This Psalm seems in so many ways unpromising for a modern adaptation. Yet I could instantly name two songs from my iTunes collection that quote this Psalm:

• “Jerusalem,” by Matisyahu, and
• “City of Sorrows,” by Fernando Ortega.

And a couple minutes with Google revealed two more:

• “On the Willows,” from the musical Godspell, and
• “Babylon,” from Don McLean.

Look at that last one: Psalm 137 is quoted on the “American Pie” album. And yes, as I studied the lyrics for these songs in greater detail, it's clear that Ortega was relying more on Ezekiel for content than Psalm 137, but I still think the wording and rhythm relies on the Psalm.

Now, it seems to me that if this (initially unpromising) Psalm is so widely quoted, then the Book of Psalms must be quoted in thousands of contemporary songs, although I've not attempted a serious inventory. I would be glad for more examples of modern songs (as well as hymns) that rely on specific Psalms, and I'm more than a little surprised that Google didn't point me to a web page of thousands.

Peace

The Stars Know the Season

I. The solstice came. The days were cool, the nights were cold. But it was not fall. Can stars know the season?

II. Sun is set, white clouds float in air so clear, I see stars, in a sky not dark. The stars know the season, fall is near.

III. Night comes, wind comes. Trees bend, leaves blow. Stars are near, fall is here.

Peace

Giants

There's an odd passage in Genesis 6:

Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward— when the sons of God went in to the daughters of humans, who bore children to them. These were the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown.

I had the peculiar thought today that this might reflect an ancient oral tradition based on encounters (not necessarily sexual) between modern men and Neanderthals. A quick search of Google reveals my lack of originality in this, but I do wonder. One quick note is that the Hebrew word Nephilim (נְפִילִים — often translated "giants"), can also mean “monster” or “deformed.”

This can be compared to the Biblical flood, which is often associated with the filling of the Black Sea, c. ~5600 BCE. Archaeological evidence suggests that Neanderthals survived in the middle east until 40,000 years ago, and may have survived in western Europe until 24,000 years ago.

Peace

A Modern Creed

I've thought for a while that this might be a good time to write a new creed. The existing creeds were written at a times when there was active controversy over what they confessed, and were biased by those controversies. And all of the creeds say far too little about the Holy Spirit.

Anyway, at a Church retreat yesterday, we were all invited to write a creed. Unsurprisingly, an exercise that seemed impossible given just a summer was easily completed in the twenty minutes allotted. I don't claim that the following creed is any sort of final word, and I would welcome suggestions as to how to improve it.

I believe in God the Father, source of all life, source of all love, creator of the Universe and all that is in it, including me. I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, fully human, fully divine, the only begotten son of the Father whose witness and sacrifice saves the Universe, and all that is in it, including me. I believe in the Holy Spirit, God acting in the world, the voice of the prophets, who animates the Universe and all that is in it, including me. These three are one God, the only God, my God. I believe in the communion of saints, the Church of the Father, Son, and Spirit, through which we are called to love one another as God loves us, to find identity and unity through baptism of water and spirit fellowship, remembrance, and forgiveness through Eucharist, and to seek the life eternal.

Peace

Circling the Well

It's been an uncommonly long time since my last posting. What I've had to say was better said in other venues.

Likewise, other concerns have distracted me from the wells of inspiration that I've relied upon for content in this blog. I've had little time for the study of Greek, or for reading the New Testament in the language in which it was written. Little time for free study. Little time for reflection.

And war, endless war, oppresses me. A few days before my daughter's wedding, her high-school boyfriend and his wife and daughter stopped by. He was visiting family during his pre-deployment leave; he's now in Iraq. And the politics of our country have long stopped to be about moving us forward as a nation in justice and prosperity. Our belief in "mission accomplished" on January 20th has proved to be as evanescent as that of earlier claim.

War, endless war, stands between us and peace and justice. War with bullets and explosive devices. War with words, both written and spoken. War with filibusters, votes, and vetoes. War fought for money. War fought for pride. War fought with ignorance. War fought with lies.

Yet the Peace of the Lord will overcome war. Endless war will give way to eternal peace. Truth will outlive lies, and knowledge of God will triumph over ignorance. God's love acting in and through us will vanquish pride. We will know war no more.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Peace

Martin and Teresa

Over on Kirby's blog, in the midst of a peculiar discussion of what Martin Luther believed, jh asked, “what would luther have said regarding mother theresa of calcutta.” I begged for more time, because I don't think this is an easy question, and I think it deserves a careful answer. And part of the complication, which I'll acknowledge, is that jh is himself a monk, and therefore imbedded in his question, intentionally or not, is a more than a little bit of “what would Luther think of me?” I'd like to give answers (to the former explicitly, to the later implicitly) that are both sensitive and accurate.

The big complication in the case of Mother Teresa, and a major part of the reason that I asked for time to research and think, has to do with revelations of the spiritual “emptiness” that silently dominated the last half-century of her life. This engages a major theological concern of Luther, albeit in an extraordinary way.

My approach to this question will be to view Mother Teresa of Calcutta from three different perspectives, each of which aligns with particular Lutheran concerns, and in order from greater certainty to lesser how I think Luther would have reacted to each.

Good Works

Mother Teresa is known for her work in Calcutta, attending to the sick and dying, and eventually to orphans as well. Teresa has received many honors from her work, from both temporal and religious authorities.

Luther surely would have applauded Teresa's good works. His concern about good works was that many of the people of the day felt that they needed to earn their way into heaven through good works, and that this was an impossible obligation. Indeed, he'd have vehemently rejected the possibility that even Teresa's good works were adequate in and of themselves to earn salvation. But Teresa never said they were. She didn't do good works to get into heaven, she did good works because she felt a very specific “call within the call,” and so her good works were a direct response to faith. Luther would have approved.

Teresa's calling as a Nun

The Augsburg confession is divided into two major parts. The first part consisted of a summary of basic theological commitments that the German princes thought were relatively non-controversial, the “Chief Articles of Faith.” They were wrong—the Catholics found plenty in that part to object to. The second part, “Disputed Articles, Listing the Abuses That Have Been Corrected” they knew would be controversial. Article XXVII, “Concerning Monastic Vows” belongs to the second part.

This article, in large part, sets up a distinction between monastic communities of Augustine's time (which were viewed favorably), with the monastic communities of Luther's day. It seems to me that many of the particular concerns he had regarding the monastic communities of his day have been dealt with by subsequent reformers within the monastic orders, and he would only have minor concerns about contemporary communities.

A principle distinction was that monasticism during the Augustinian era was seen as a voluntary association of adults, whereas the sixteenth century communities (at least in Germany) were not. Instead, pre-pubescent children were coerced into giving final vows of chastity, long before they could give informed consent. And once these vows were given, the church was able to use the full authority of the state to enforce them as contracts. Teresa took final vows in her mid-20's, and was certainly willing and able at that point to give informed consent. Moreover, there is no evidence that I'm aware of that coercion played any role in Teresa's call to be a nun, or to remain a nun. The evidence seems quite to the contrary. Luther never denied the possibility that a person might be able to make and sustain a commitment to monastic service, and I believe he would have seen Teresa's call as valid, and her accepting of that call as honorable and laudable.

The reformers were also concerned that monasticism was presented as something superior to baptism. Remember that part of the theoretical justification for indulgences was supererogation, the notion that the church possessed a reserve of excess merit created by the monastic orders which it could dispense to those it chose. I don't see that this kind of consideration was relevant to Teresa, or indeed to the contemporary Catholic church more generally. Teresa was inspired by missionaries, and sought to emulate them as the most fulfilling kind of life for her. Again, I think Luther would have approved.

Indeed, Luther would have been greatly reassured by the temptations that Teresa experienced early in her special ministry to the dying to give up, and return to the monastery, and with Teresa's ability to withstand that temptation. Luther expected the virtuous to be tempted, and to have to struggle, but that through Christ's grace, they would persevere.

“Emptiness and Darkness”

No account of Mother Teresa's life can be complete without acknowledging the despair she felt for the last half-century of her life. The sense of the presence of God, which figured so prominently in her “call within a call” departed. And she felt a huge spiritual emptiness: no sense of the presence of God at all, “neither in her heart or in the eucharist.”

Luther felt that the works emphasis of the Catholicism of his day lead to despair. But while Teresa had the symptoms, she didn't have the disease. Her despair was not based on a fear that she wasn't doing enough, it was on the exceptional circumstance that the sense of the presence of God, once so powerful and life directing, was gone, leaving an unfillable void behind. I don't believe that Luther ever conceived of this possibility.

Certainly, he believed that the cure to existential crises over salvation was to embrace Christ's promises fervently and with confidence. Critics of Luther sometimes say that he's replaced the question of “have I done enough?,” with an even more problematic “have I believed fervently enough?,” not without justification. Teresa's experience would not have been easy for Luther to explain, or to handle within his system. I believe that Luther's own existential crises would have given him tremendous sympathy for Teresa. But I do not know how he would have judged her, and I cannot rule out the possibility that he'd have viewed her as condemned for her own lack of faith. I hope that someone who knows Luther's work more fully than I do can point to something that would rule this out.

A Concluding Thought

1 Kings 19:11-12 Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

Teresa's experience is not unique among contemplatives. We're all familiar with St. John of the Cross's phrase, “the dark night of the soul.” This is what Teresa experienced. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been, yet she never departed from her “call within a call.” And although it would not have eased her pain to hear it, I believe that the LORD was in that sound of sheer silence in her soul.

Peace