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

Unity

GM asked for more translation posts. JA thinks I'm in over my head. Perfect! Let's try another.

Today's lectionary readings included Ephesians 4:1-16, which contains the familiar:

Ephesians 4:4-6 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.

We looked at this in adult education before service. My pastor commented on the repetition of “one,” and how powerfully this repetition drives home the unity of the Church. This alliteration, by the way, goes back at least as far as Tyndale's “Let ther be but one lorde one fayth one baptim.” So I took a quick look in Nestle-Aland, and here's the Greek:

Ephesians 4:4-6 Ἓν σῶμα καὶ ἓν πνεῦμα, καθὼς καὶ ἐκλήθητε ἐν μιᾷ ἐλπίδι τῆς κλήσεως ὑμῶν· εἷς κύριος, μία πίστις, ἓν βάπτισμα, εἷς θεὸς καὶ πατὴρ πάντων, ὁ ἐπὶ πάντων καὶ διὰ πάντων καὶ ἐν πᾶσιν.

There are a couple of things to notice here. The first is that Nestle-Aland (the Greek Text) sets this as poetry—fair enough. But the second is that the alliteration that is so powerful in the English isn't present in the Greek, because Greek is a declined language, and the form of the irregular adjective εἷς (heis) changes radically depending on the gender of the noun it modifies. In the critical, tight, confessional verse 5, it is εἷς—μία—ἓν, the masculine, feminine, and neuter singular forms respectively of the adjective “one.”

So here is my thought, and I'll grant that it's a stretch. While the alliteration of one—one—one isn't in the Greek, the sequence εἷς—μία—ἓν seems constructed too. And while it is certainly the case that humans love to impose imagined structure on top of randomness, I'm taking the position here that there are no accidents in poetry. Putting each of the genders of Greek in turn, as happens in verse 5, might be an allusion to a deeper union. Three-in-one.

So at this point, the mathematician in me takes over. What is the probability that a passage of three consecutive Greek nouns will hit all three genders? If we assume that each gender is equally likely, it's

3!/3³ = 2/9 ≈ 22%.

If we put in the actual distribution of masculine, feminine, and neuter nouns (243, 271, 111 resp.) in Ephesians, the probability estimate drops to 18%. Not compelling, not compelling at all. But suggestive.

My wife argued that the εἷς at the beginning of the 6th verse destroys the argument. Maybe. But I can easily accommodate this, as it looks to me as though the εἷς “closes the circle”: εἷς—μία—ἓν—εἷς. Hmm.

So, would a Greek ear hear this? Here I'll fully grant the justice of JA's disputing of my abilities and pretensions. I have no idea. But I like the thought, nevertheless.

Peace

Metanoia

Over on Kirby's blog, in response to a question by Emmy Bea, I noted Luther's dissatisfaction with Jerome's translation of the Greek word μετάνοια as penance, and to my surprise (but great pleasure), these remarks met with jh's approbation. Moreover, his note contained some additional remarks on the meaning of μετάνοια, and as I'd had some similar thoughts, I'd like to develop this a bit further, to three distinct ends:

1. I believe the question of how to properly understand the concept of μετάνοια, as Paul intended, is important.
2. The issue of how best to translate μετάνοια is illustrative of the difficulties translators face, and why the hope for a “perfect” translation is misguided.
3. I see in this a good opportunity to develop the faith/works discussion, in a way that I hope is less bound by a priori stereotypes, and which I hope will make the Lutheran position more comprehensible to people with a Catholic mindset. Please note that I'm merely hoping to explain, not to win any arguments.

Μετάνοια

So let's recall the starting point. In Romans 2:1ff, Paul is talking about divine judgment, the consequences of sin, and he touches on the transformative effect of God's love. Let me mash up a bit of English NRSV and Greek:

Romans 2:4b Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to μετάνοια?

Jerome's choice of translating μετάνοια as penance was unfortunate, and Luther's choice of repentance was better, but it does not feel perfect. I believe that the imperfection is in that both Jerome and Luther translated μετάνοια in terms of the consequences of the transformation, rather than in terms of the nature of the transformation, and I believe Paul was talking more about the nature of the transformation.

According to BDAG, the base meaning is “primarily a change of mind,” and suggested translational phrases are “repentance, turning about, conversion.” It is worth noting that the roots are μετά + νοῦς. “Meta” is a proposition, the translation of which is always tricky and beset with language specific idioms, whereas “nous” refers to “mind, intellect, understanding, way of thinking, attitude” etc.

jh raised up phrases like, “turning toward,” “seeking understanding and love,” and even the analogy of lovers making up after a spat. I think these truly are at the heart of the matter.

The classic Lutheran understanding of sin is separation from God. What does God want? He wants relationship. He wants his love for us to be mirrored in our love for him and one another. To place this in terms of jh's suggestions, in sin, we have turned away from God. His kindness is meant to turn us back. This is indeed the making up of lovers after a spat, where the lovers are God and us.

Is this really all there is? Does God really require nothing more of us when we fail than that we return to him? In a word, yes. But to stop with that one word is immature.

It is in understanding the steps that a mature Christian makes after turning back towards God that Luther's word choice and Jerome's come into play.

A mature Christian will acknowledge the reality of their actions, that they were in fact the actor, and that God did not intend for them to act this way. They will acknowledge the consequences of their actions. They will feel regret. This is where Luther's choice of repentance hits the nail on the head. Maybe not quite the nail that Paul intended, but on the head, nevertheless.

The second thing a mature Christian will do is to take responsibility for their actions, and this means that they will do what they can to repair the brokenness that they have brought into God's creation. Often, our actions have injured others, and an appropriate step is to make restitution to that person—to make them whole. This is where Jerome not only swung at the wrong nail, he missed it. The focus on penance is a focus on punishment, not restoration of either the sinner or the injured. And as this came to be interpreted, it had the effect of transferred the restitution from the injured party to the church, so that the consequences of sinful acts remained uncorrected, the brokenness unrepaired.

Translation

It simply isn't possible to fit a discussion like that above into a single word choice, yet translators do not have the luxury of interposing explanatory paragraphs into the midst of their translations. Even the standard mechanism of footnotes is inadequate for even a brief discussion along the lines that I've given above. Such discussions are necessarily relegated to commentaries, or perhaps to translator's notes. Translators have to pick a word, or at most a short phrase, recognizing that their choices will tend to miss some of the nuances of the original, perhaps emphasizing this part a bit more, and that part a bit less. They have to trust that their work will not stand alone, but will be supported by others.

It is worth reflecting here on the specific kind of choice involved. Will a translator try for a translation in which there is a tight correspondence between the words in their original, and the words in their translation? If so, simply using the word “change” would have been an excellent choice.

Or does the translator allow themselves word choices that draw the reader further down the theological path that they believed that the author intended? This is the kind of choice that both Luther and Jerome made in wrestling with Romans 2:4. It is a reasonable thing to do.

Or does the translator allow themselves greater freedom, and forsake a word-for-word translation in favor of a freer translation, which they hope will nevertheless come closer to the author's original intent? Here, “change of heart,” rather than a more literal “change” or “change of mind” might have been suitable. The Message is a good exemplar of a translation that is made in this style.

I practice, no translation is going to follow a pure strategy. All translations will make choices that favor literal readings in some places, and sense readings in other. I believe it is important to understand the translation philosophy of whatever English-language bible you have, and very useful to look at multiple translations which follow different strategies in doing deeper Bible studies.

But I think that it is both wrong and unhelpful to say that one strategy is right and another is wrong. All of these strategies are trying to convey the original, they just do so with different priorities regarding the tradeoffs that must be met. If you want a book that fully conveys all the nuances of the original, you have to read the original.

Faith vs. Works

The debate over faith vs. works has resulted in much oversimplification of the Lutheran side, and perhaps of the Catholic side as well. The Lutheran side is often reduced to "salvation by grace through faith," or "sola fides, sola gratia, solus Christus." [Lutherans, by the way, do not affirm "sola scriptura," although some Protestants do, and this leads to confusion.] Often, the Lutherans themselves have done the reduction. But the notion that Lutherans don't value or understand works is incorrect, they've simply transferred the point in their theology to which works are attached, and thereby transposed the Catholic understanding of the causative relationship between works and salvation.

In the Lutheran view, our works don't save us, and can't save us. Only God working on and through us can save us.

But once are saved, how then do we live? What is the nature of Christian life? What are its obligations? How do we respond to this great gift that God has given us?

The gift that we are given is the gift we must return: love. And the remarkable thing about this is that giving love does not diminish our store of love, it increases it. It is only by hoarding this treasure that we risk losing it. It is in living a Christian life that we should find good works, not as a means of salvation, but as a joyful response to salvation. And mature Lutherans can read James with appreciation, nod our heads, and agree: if you claim you have faith, but you're not moved to share God's love for all of us with your fellow man, and you're not moved to ease the pain and suffering of the world, then what sort of faith do you have? We are not saved by knowledge of doctrine, as even the devil has a knowledge of history and of the nature of God. We are saved by grace through faith, and in particular by a faith that transforms us.

And I think in this, there is actually very little difference between the Lutheran and Catholic positions as regards the sort of life that Christians should lead. The disagreement is really just this: are we saved because of our good works, or do we do good works because we're saved? Either way, we have both salvation and good works. I believe that much would be gained by consciously embracing our agreements, instead of just obsessing over our disagreements.

Peace

A Zwischenzug—Paul

Paul. That's what this post is going to be about—Paul. I'd hoped to get into his radical reinterpretation of marriage, and a discussion of his comments (specifically in 1st Corinthians) regarding same-gender sexuality, but this preliminary discussion of Paul has proven to be quite lengthy, so we'll put those discussions off for tomorrow and beyond.

Although we know a lot about Paul from his letters, it would be helpful if we knew more, because what we don't know raises some interesting questions of interpretation. I'd like to start from a somewhat conservative stance regarding Paul—I will give him the benefit of the doubt when it comes to what he reveals about himself 1st Corinthians (and other consensus letters), and will consider evidence from other sources (disputed letters, Acts).

A key initial question regards Paul's own sexual history, because the more we know about this, the easier it is to evaluate what he has to say. We know that Paul was unmarried at the time he wrote 1st Corinthians [1 Cor 7:8]. He also wrote, “It is well for a man not to touch a woman [1 Cor 7:1].” He implies very strongly that he is a practicing celibate, but also that he views the ability to practice celibacy as a gift that not all are given [1 Cor 7:7]. Regarding Paul's celibacy, there are three theories that I am aware of:

1. Paul was a life-long celibate.
2. Paul was a widow, who chose not to remarry.
3. Paul was a non-practicing homosexual.

In favor of option 1 is both Paul's language of ‘gift,’ and the lack of reference to a wife in Paul's letters. This option is sometimes favored by those called to a life of celibacy themselves.

Option 3 is sometimes favored by gay theologians and their supporters. It provides an explanation for both Paul's celibacy (acting on homosexual urges would have been so contrary to his beliefs as to destroy him spiritually), and also a framework for discounting his remarks on homosexuality (“Methinks thou dost protest too much...”). Finally, consider this:

Romans 1:18-27 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of those who by their wickedness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools; and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling a mortal human being or birds or four-footed animals or reptiles.

Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the degrading of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.

For this reason God gave them up to degrading passions. Their women exchanged natural intercourse for unnatural, and in the same way also the men, giving up natural intercourse with women, were consumed with passion for one another. Men committed shameless acts with men and received in their own persons the due penalty for their error.

This is worth reading carefully. Paul presents “degrading passions” as God's punishment upon those who “by their wickedness suppress the truth” about God. Paul, as Saul, persecuted the early church, and perhaps he integrated his own desire for sexual contact with men by viewing it as punishment for this phase of his life. Likewise, Paul's description of male-on-male sexual activity seems a bit too explicit: who but gay people think that much about the mechanics of gay sex? It seems to me that these are attractive arguments, if less than compelling.

Finally, we come to option 2. I've heard the claim that Acts attributes a wife to Paul, but I haven't found an unambiguous proof text, and even if I did, I'd discount it without confirmation in Paul's own writing. But I do find some evidence for this proposition in 1st Corinthians. First we have this:

1 Corinthians 9:5 Do we not have the right to be accompanied by a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?

Doesn't this sound like a widower who still mourns his wife, and feels aggrieved that she's been taken from him? And his complaint to the Corinthians on this topic seems a bit misplaced, as I can hardly imagine that they would have objected to him getting married. But what if his beloved (and believing) wife died while accompanying Paul on his missions? Then their gain would have been inextricably tied to his loss, and him addressing this complaint to them is a bit easier to understand.

Also curious is his discussion about entering into marriage:

1 Corinthians 7:8-9 To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is well for them to remain unmarried as I am. But if they are not practicing self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to be aflame with passion.

Note who can marry, if they cannot practice self-control: the unmarried and widows. Note a missing category? Widowers.

So, perhaps surprisingly, I tentatively favor a “romantic” theory of Paul's sexuality, which builds on option 2: He was married, and had a wife that he loved deeply. His marriage was unusually equitable for his time and place, and his radical views on equality were based on how his own marriage worked, and his esteem for the gifts and worth of women flowed from his esteem for his wife. His wife accompanied him on his early missionary journeys, but died before he started writing epistles. This may have even been causative: without a wife to talk to, maybe he turned to cathartic letter writing. Finally, I suspect that Paul did not believe in remarriage. This ties into slightly later Montanist beliefs that favored celibacy and denied remarriage (c.f. Tertullian). It is worth remembering that the Montanists were distinctly more Pauline than the Roman church of their era, and moreover were based in Asia Minor, where much of Paul's missionary activity took place.

This is perhaps easiest to understand if placed in contrast with one of the relatively few teachings on marriage that we find in the Gospels:

Mark 12:18-25 Some Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, saying, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that ‘if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no child, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother.‘ There were seven brothers; the first married and, when he died, left no children; and the second married her and died, leaving no children; and the third likewise; none of the seven left children. Last of all the woman herself died. In the resurrection whose wife will she be? For the seven had married her.”

Jesus said to them, “Is not this the reason you are wrong, that you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God? For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven.

In this (and parallel passages in the other synoptics, plus Luke 20:34), Jesus says that marriages are part of our earthly existence, and will not be preserved into the afterlife. Contrast that with this:

1 Corinthians 6:15-17 Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Should I therefore take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? Never! Do you not know that whoever is united to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For it is said, “The two shall be one flesh.” But anyone united to the Lord becomes one spirit with him.

In this, Paul stakes out a position that is about as far from Jesus's teaching as one can easily imagine. In it, Paul views sexual activity as equivalent to marriage, resulting in a union of flesh, and therefore of person. And indeed, the passage suggests that by a kind of transitivity, if we, who are spiritually united with Jesus, unite sexually with a prostitute, then we unite her with him to our own condemnation. Since Jesus is dead (although resurrected as first fruits of the afterlife) it seems that Paul believed that marriage survives death (and since the Gospels were unwritten, they could not have contradicted him in this view). Moreover, through his sexual contact with his wife, they had become one body, and so she would have continued to live on through him! So he still believed his marriage vows were binding.

As a bit of self-disclosure, I've been married for thirty-one years to a wife whom I love deeply, and with whom I live and have lived a shared life in the Pauline model. So perhaps my preference for the “romantic option” is no different from the celibate's preference for a celibate Paul, or the homosexuals preference for a homosexual Paul. Maybe there isn't enough information to know, and so we recreate Paul according to our own vision, whatever that vision might be. But this is the vision I have, and that vision will matter as I look more deeply into Paul's writings on sexuality in the following posts.

Peace

Can't Anyone Here Play This Game?

Today was the fourth of four discussions at my congregation on the ELCA's draft sexuality statement. Something odd happened, which I'd like to recount.

A member of the congregation—one of those who in the language of the statement is, “on the basis of conscience-bound belief ... convinced that same-gender sexual behavior is sinful, contrary to biblical teaching and their understanding of natural law,” read 1st Corinthians 6:9-10 from the RSV. I'm sitting there with my laptop, trying to catch up. So I switch to the RSV, and do a word search for “homosexual,” a word that was emphasized in her reading. It's not there—anywhere in the entire RSV—so I search by verse, find it, and am left wondering whether she'd added the word herself. Here's what I had:

1 Corinthians 6:9-10 Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither the immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor sexual perverts, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God.

No “homosexuals” there. So I show it to her after class, and she shows me her RSV— and there it is, “homosexuals” where “sexual perverts&rdquo is in mine. A quick check of the copyrights shows a 1952 copyright on her RSV, and a 1971 copyright on mine. There's also a very strange footnote in the 1952 RSV, “Two Greek words are translated by this expression.” Since I was the cantor at the next service, I didn't have time to dig any further, so off I went.

One thing that was really strange about this, and struck me as strange at the time, was her insistence when she read the passage on both the RSV version and the 1952 copyright. In retrospect, I believe she was aware that there were multiple editions of the RSV, and that they differed in how they translated this particular passage. Her purposes were better suited by her edition's language. And so she viewed the 1952 translation as authoritative, and subsequent changes as reflecting the efforts of those who would dilute God's word to excuse their own sinful behavior.

After service, I go back to the laptop, and check out Nestle-Aland (the current best version of the original Greek text), search out the underlying words, ἀρσενοκοίτης and μαλακός, and look at their respective entries in BDAG—A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and other Early Christian Literature, 3rd edition—a standard reference work for New Testament studies. I can't say that the resulting entries will set your hair on fire, but if you're used to this kind of reference, you'll recognize that it is not for lack of trying.

BDAG is pretty graphic in terms of what is actually intended: μαλακός refers to the passive partner in male-on-male anal intercourse, and moreover emphasizes that this likely refers to catamites, an English word that wasn't part of my vocabulary until today. According to Wikipedia, a catamite is “the younger partner in a pederastic relationship between two males, which was a popular arrangement in many areas of the ancient world.” Websters gives a different, but supporting gloss, “a boy kept for unnatural purposes.” OK, I knew the concept and the context, if not the particular word. But BDAG goes further, taking a calculated swipe at two major translations of 1 Cor 6:9: “ ‘male prostitutes’ NRSV is too narrow a rendering; ‘sexual pervert’ REB is too broad.”

The definition of ἀρσενοκοίτης complements that of μαλακός, it refers to the dominant (and, in the likely case of a pederastic relationship, elder) participant in male-on-male anal intercourse. Moreover, the criticism of particular translations really ratchets up here: “on the impropriety of RSV's ‘homosexuals’ [altered to ‘sodomites’ NRSV] s. WPetersen, VigChr 40, '86, 187–91; cp. DWright, ibid. 41, '87, 396–98; REB's rendering of μαλακοὶ οὔτε ἀρσενοκοῖται w. the single term ‘sexual pervert’ is lexically unacceptable.” This is pretty dense, in keeping with the style of the reference, citing with specificity two scholarly articles regarding the proper interpretation of ἀρσενοκοίτης, contradicting the translation(s).

For a neutral, scholarly text, this is remarkable language: ‘impropriety’ is a hapax legomenon in BDAG, a word that occurs only this one time; ‘unacceptable’ occurs only four times, and in each of the other three occurrences, it is used in defining the lexical entry, rather than as a commentary on a translation's word choice. These are, within the confines of this kind of scholarship, fighting words.

I've also looked at every occurrence of ‘RSV’ and ‘NRSV’ in BDAG, and there is not a single other occurrence in which the author (presumably the most recent reviser, Fredrick William Danker) criticizes either translation. Likewise, the REB, which gets it coming and going in this sequence, although often cited in BDAG, otherwise escapes anything that resembles pointed criticism.

And it's not as if unnamed translations do any better. ‘Homosexual’ is used by the NIV, NASB, NAS95, GWORD, ESV, HCSB, NET, NLT. ‘Sodomites’ is used by NJB. I suspect that the only translations that would evade criticism from Danker for mistranslation are Messsage and BBE, both of which are be too vague to inform discussion or behavior. It appears that pretty much every English-language Bible does a disservice to the reader in translating 1 Cor 6:9. With apologies to Casey Stengel, can't anyone here play this game?

This is why I believe it is important to learn Greek, and to be willing and able to refer to the original texts, and to be willing and able to refer to the scholarly resources that are available. Because an error of superficial scriptural literalism, for which this passage constitutes the major proof-text, has resulted in the full or partial alienation of a significant fraction of the population from our churches.

As for the inconsistent readings of 1 Cor 6:9 with the RSV that got this whole ball rolling, it turns out that there were two major editions of the RSV, and the term ‘homosexuals’ was changed to ‘sexual perverts’ in the 2nd edition. Strangely, while the introduction to the 2nd edition talks about many of the changes that were made, it is mute on 1 Cor 6:9. I didn't know.

Peace

Paul's Christology

The Apostle Paul was no Trinitarian. I do not say this to question or discredit Trinitarian theology, or to discredit Paul. He was a man of his time and place, and while the theology of the Trinity finds scriptural support (even in Paul's writings), it is much more a product of the fourth century than the first. So what did Paul believe about Jesus?

I'll restrict my exploration to Crossan's "First Paul" list: Romans, 1st and 2nd Corinthians, 1st Thessalonians, Galatians, Phillipians, and Philemon. My feeling is that this list includes enough material of sufficient variety to give a reasonable level of insight into Paul's thinking, even if you think that Crossan's analysis is dubious. If you think this list is unrepresentative, feel free to create your own.

Here are some attributes that Paul ascribes to Jesus:

Attribute	verse count
Christ	105
Lord (κυρίος)	69
Son of God	3
Paschal Lamb	1
Rock	1
Image of God	1
God	??

The question marks about God come from the fact that Paul never says “Jesus is God” but he often speaks of “God through Jesus Christ” or “God in Jesus Christ.” How you count these is up to you, but I think that what is actually happening here is Paul saw Jesus as a human, adopted by God, in whom God chose to be uniquely present. For those who enjoy a more technical theology, this is a kind of unidirectional, non-Trinitarian, perichoresis. But I also see this as falling short of an actual identification of Jesus with God, or viewed Jesus Christ as a co-equal person with God the Father.

The closest I can find in this corpus to a statement actually equating Jesus with God is this:

Philippians 2:6-11 who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.   Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

But as the indentation suggests (and this is even clearer in Nestle-Aland's Greek New Testament), this passage takes the form of a hymn, and it's not immediately clear whether Paul wrote it, or is quoting it. My intuition is that it differs enough in Christology from what I see elsewhere in Paul that he is quoting it despite its Christology, because it supports the point he wants to make: Christ was humble, so you should be humble too.

A particularly interesting passage is the following:

1 Corinthians 15:19-28 But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death. For “God has put all things in subjection under his feet.” But when it says, “All things are put in subjection,” it is plain that this does not include the one who put all things in subjection under him. When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.

This is not easy reading, and it's worthwhile reading carefully, making sure you've sorted out each of the pronominal references. Note also the very end—“When all things are subjected to him (God the Father), then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one (God) who put all things in subjection under him (God), so that God may be all in all.” It's not easy to reconcile subjugation of Christ to God (the Father) with Trinitarian theology.

I believe that Paul never stopped believing himself to be a Jew. Yes, he had a particularly mission to the Gentiles, and yes, he was an apostle of Christ, but I believe he never viewed this role as inconsistent with his Judiasm. And so he was intellectually committed to one God, but also a heavenly host with God, which includes angels, (perhaps as a separate person) the Holy Spirit, and that he incorporated Jesus Christ within this heavenly host.

Indeed, I think that the following is particularly telling:

Romans 1:1-4 Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord,

Got that? Declared, not begotten. Indeed, in this corpus, the Greek word that is sometimes translated as begotten (γεννάω), occurs only six times, and never refers to Jesus Christ. On the other hand, “promised beforehand” suggests Jesus's role was intended prior to his birth. This, I hope, is not too scandalous, after all, Paul often places flesh in contrast with spirit, in some ways paralleling Jesus's contrast of baptism by water vs. spirit. So I suspect that Paul's theory of the origins of Jesus, were that Jesus was born of women in flesh, in the usual way, but adopted through the Spirit as the Son of God, pre-existing in intent, revealed in prophesy, but not pre-existing as a distinct person of God.

As is this:

Romans 8:34 Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.

Again, got that? Jesus is at the right hand of God, i.e., the foremost of God's companions, his principal lieutenant within the heavenly host. But the companions are not equal to the King, they are subject to the King, as Paul saw Christ subject to God.

Where do we go with this? I don't know. The Trinitarian consensus runs deeply through Christianity, and is not something to be rejected just because it wasn't worked out (or articulated) in the first few years of the Christian era. Perhaps working this out and understanding helps in understanding why there were so many heresies through the first four centuries, and that orthodoxy evolved, and was not handed down whole. Perhaps it is worth remembering that Trinitarianism is a human attempt to penetrate the great mystery of God, and the relationship between God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, and that while it explains much, perhaps other models have their utility too. In particular, the Christology I attribute to Paul makes the gap between Judaism and Christianity seem much narrower than it is at present, and perhaps even capable of closure. This is an ecumenical pipe dream, but what man cannot do, God can do.

Peace

An Immigration Debate

The alien comes to this land to reside.

It's not fair, saith the conservative, that this man enjoys the benefits that come from living in our land, which we provide for out of our taxes and our military service for the good of all who live here. It's a good argument, and therefore the laws are written in such a way that alien is obligated to pay taxes, and to serve if called, and these obligations (and the state machinery for receiving them) are decoupled from the legality of his residence here.

It's not fair, saith the liberal, that this man pays into the common treasury, and serves at our call, yet is not entitled to the benefits that come from these contributions for the common good. It's a good argument, and therefore many (but not all) of the benefits that come from living in our land are made available to the alien. But since it is a good argument, that is the direction things tend to go.

It's not fair, saith the conservative, that this man should be allowed to convert his status from citizen de facto, to citizen de jure, because his coming here was tainted with the original sin of illegality of undocumentation.

At which point, the liberal saith, “This sin, as you call it, you were willing to overlook when it was in your interest to do so—when you wanted lettuce and tomatoes picked, when you wanted taxes for our treasury, when you wanted soldiers to fight in our war. Do you not understand the notion of precedent? Now, having overlooked his so-called sin of undocumentation when it was in your interest to do so, you have an obligation to overlook it when it is in his.” It's a good argument.

And what does the Lord say?

Exodus 12:48 If an alien who resides with you wants to celebrate the passover to the LORD, all his males shall be circumcised; then he may draw near to celebrate it; he shall be regarded as a native of the land.

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.

Numbers 15:29-30 For both the native among the Israelites and the alien residing among them—you shall have the same law for anyone who acts in error. But whoever acts high-handedly, whether a native or an alien, affronts the LORD, and shall be cut off from among the people.

Deuteronomy 24:17 You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge.

Jeremiah 22:3 Thus says the LORD: Act with justice and righteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place.

Malachi 3:5 Then I will draw near to you for judgment; I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me, says the LORD of hosts.

What did David say?

Psalms 39:12-13 “Hear my prayer, O LORD, and give ear to my cry; do not hold your peace at my tears. For I am your passing guest, an alien, like all my forebears. Turn your gaze away from me, that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more.”

As David realized, we are all aliens, because this is not our land. It is God's land. And we belong to God's kingdom, not as citizens by birth, but as naturalized resident aliens, through rebirth and adoption.

Peace

The Saved and the Lost

I just did a word search for various forms of the words “saved” and “lost” in the Bible. (As an aside, having a good program for searching the Bible, and knowing how to use it, is a real joy. I use Accordance, and recommend it highly.)

Briefly, here is what I found. In the Old Testament, there is a lot of saving and losing, but you're saved or lost in ordinary life. You can be saved from your enemies generally (e.g. Numbers 10:9, Deuteronomy 33:29, 1 Samuel 4:3, and many others), the Philistines specifically (1 Samuel 7:8, 2 Samuel 3:18, etc.), lions (1 Samuel 17:37, Psalms 22:21, Daniel 6:27), and other temporal threats.

It is in Jesus's teachings that we first see the words saved and lost used in contexts that extend beyond ordinary life, e.g.,

Mark 8:35 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.

The issue, of course, is with that second occurrence of “save,” which it seems can only refer to some transcendent notion of salvation, rather than to an ordinary, temporal salvation. John seems even more explicit in a parallel verse:

John 12:25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

This is interesting to me, precisely because it tests my world view, which is that Christianity today is too hung up on the notion that our purpose is to seek a good afterlife, whereas I think that our purpose in life is to serve God through love by working for justice and peace in this world. Yet the obvious interpretation of the “eternal life” seems to be the afterlife.

But is it the correct interpretation? Does God look forward to the afterlife? Does God think about what he does in terms of his own salvation? Of course not! God doesn't dwell in the past, because dwelling in the past would mean dwelling on our sin. He doesn't dwell on the future, for he knows that he will be there when it comes. God loves us, and seeks relationship with us in the here and now. He loves eternally, hopes eternally, and seeks eternally. He does not love us to save himself. He just loves us. When we, in love, place someone else first, without thought of ourselves, aren't we living as God lives? Isn't that the eternal life, lived in the present, through our finite selves? Isn't that what Jesus was talking about?

And what do we gain from such an interpretation? Coherence. We align the Old Testament and the New, so that each helps to illuminate the other, rather than contradicting one another. The God of the Old Testament is the God of the New Testament.

Peace

A Novel Theory of Punishment

Robert N. Bellah's article, “Civil Religion in America,” quotes Benjamin Franklin (italics mine):

I was never without some religious principles. I never doubled, for instance, the existence of the Diety; that he made the world and govern'd it by his Providence; that the most acceptable service of God was the doing of good to men; that our souls are immortal; and that all crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded either here or hereafter.

I've heard a number of theories of punishment: retribution, opportunity for amendment, framework for rehabilitation, and protection of society. Perhaps you can think of a few others. But I don't believe that I've ever considered punishment on earth as a merciful prophylactic against punishment in the hereafter, as Franklin seems to imply.

Likewise, I think it is interesting that this passage also implies that unrecognized virtue is in some ways superior to recognized virtue, for the latter will find its reward in the afterlife. This, at least, is a more familiar notion:

Matthew 6:1-20 “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.   “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.   “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.   “When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

“Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one.

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.   “And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.   “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.

As for the punishment aspect, I find the Franklin hypothesis—punish now, to avoid punishment later—uncomfortable. It seems to me that all arguments of the form, “this for your own good,” should be approached with considerable skepticism.

Peace

The Power of the Sword

Today, I'd like to take a first pass with you, my friends, about a topic that I find difficult, in large part because this is a topic wherein I believe that Luther made serious errors. I refer specifically to the relationship between Christians and civil government.

Let me start by saying that the New Testament is deeply divided on this question.

In one corner, we have Jesus of Nazareth, Galilean peasant and carpenter.

It is worth considering for a moment what it meant that he was a carpenter. Some might think that carpentry is a profession, and this puts him one step higher in the class hierarchy of the time than mere merchants and farmers. A comfortable, but unlikely point of view. Farmers owned land. Fishermen owned boats and nets. The tradesmen of the towns were day laborers, people without land or capital. They were at the bottom rung of legitimate society, and were barely hanging on.

Jesus' public preaching was largely devoted to the concept of the kingdom of God, a vision of a radically just society centered on God, which he raised in contrast and opposition to the extractive government of Roman occupation and Jewish collaboration that oppressed him and people like him. And the Roman occupiers, assisted by their Jewish collaborators, killed him because of his message.

In another corner, we have Paul of Tarsus.

Paul was both a Jew and a Roman citizen. After his Damascus road experience, he would repeatedly use his Roman citizenship to appeal to the Roman governors for protection. Needless to say, his attitude towards Roman civil government was very different from Jesus'. Here is a hugely significant passage:

Romans 13:1-4 Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive its approval; for it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do what is wrong, you should be afraid, for the authority does not bear the sword in vain! It is the servant of God to execute wrath on the wrongdoer.

Think about this for a moment. “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad.” OK, Paul, how then do you reconcile Jesus' conduct with his treatment at Roman hands?!

This is not to say that Paul's position on this question was entirely opposed to Jesus'. Both realized that it would be counterproductive to use violence against the Roman regime. In Jesus' case, this meant a taking his message forcefully but peacefully to the center of Jewish collaboration, and therefore facing the certainty of death. He hoped that his death would change things. In Paul's case, he seems to have been more concerned for the safety of the tiny band of Christians then in Rome, and he did not want them to act in a way that bring them to the attention of the authorities. It is worth noting, of course, that the Romans killed Paul too. His confidence in the benign treatment men of good conduct could expect from authorities proved to be sadly mistaken in the end, a simple fact that people who like to quote this passage never seem to remember.

Finally, in the third corner, we have Martin Luther, a former monk, and a professor of Old Testament at the University of Wittenberg, under the protection of Prince Fredrick III, Elector of Saxony.

Martin, too, faced a deadly threat. His excommunication by the Catholic Church after the Diet of Worms meant that he was an outlaw, and someone that could be legally killed by anyone. So Luther would be drawn to a Pauline view—Fredrick was his protector. So for Luther, the government (which protected him) was good, and the Catholic Church (which threatened him) was bad. These views came into internal collision at the Diet at Augsburg, where his proxies faced the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, emphatically both Catholic and the personification of government. And while Charles would very much have preferred a Holy Roman Empire unitedly Catholic, he had his problems too, the Turkish siege of Vienna had just been lifted, and he feared they would come back and attack a Roman Empire divided by religious controversy. So Luther's protectors took a careful tactical approach. The would not give Charles what he wanted (an empire unitedly Catholic), but they would give him what he needed, a promise both of peace in the present, and their support in the war against the Turks.

Thus, the Augsburg Confession begins:

Most Invincible Emperor, Caesar Augustus, Most Clement Lord: Inasmuch as Your Imperial Majesty has summoned a Diet of the Empire here at Augsburg to deliberate concerning measures against the Turk, that most atrocious, hereditary, and ancient enemy of the Christian name and religion, in what way, namely, effectually to withstand his furor and assaults by strong and lasting military provision; and then also concerning dissensions in the matter of our holy religion and Christian Faith, that in this matter of religion the opinions and judgments of the parties might be heard in each other's presence; and considered and weighed among ourselves in mutual charity, leniency, and kindness, in order that, after the removal and correction of such things as have been treated and understood in a different manner in the writings on either side, these matters may be settled and brought back to one simple truth and Christian concord, that for the future one pure and true religion may be embraced and maintained by us, that as we all are under one Christ and do battle under Him, so we may be able also to live in unity and concord in the one Christian Church.

and later says

Of the Worship of Saints they teach that the memory of saints may be set before us, that we may follow their faith and good works, according to our calling, as the Emperor may follow the example of David in making war to drive away the Turk from his country. For both are kings.

A consequence of all of this has been a detachment by Lutherans from the political sphere, and a general acquiescence in the activities of the civil governments of their day. This was not especially problematic for Lutherans, until Hilter's government came to power. At this point, most Lutherans acquiesced, a moral lapse of historic proportion. Yes, we point with pride to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose (mostly) non-violent opposition to Hitler's regime would ultimately cost him his life, but at a point when the world needed more Bonhoeffers, he is our one example.

So where does this leave us? I think, first of all, we have to acknowledge that Paul got something important wrong—there are regimes which are so unjust that we must oppose them. But both Jesus and Paul were right in using non-violent techniques. History has judged people who used non-violent opposition to unjust regimes in a very positive way: Jesus himself, Bonhoeffer, Ghandi, and Martin Luther King, Jr., to name a few.

As a citizen of the US, I believe that our polity, in which we have a secular government (often, as now, lead by men of faith), which guarantees religious freedom, and which seeks to maintain an orderly society, is, of all the alternatives, the one most likely to be just.

But beyond this, I think that we need to participate actively in governments like ours. We simply cannot assume that they will act in just ways.

Peace

The Kingdom of God

Jesus' public preaching style was elliptic, even to the point of being cryptic. Scripture makes clear that his apostles were often unable to interpret his public preaching, despite their familiarity with his style, and relied on the private interpretations he offered later. In some cases, these private interpretations are preserved in scripture, but in many cases they are not. Our problem in trying to interpret Jesus' public pronouncements in those later cases is much greater than the apostles; for not only do we have a far more limited corpus of Jesus' teaching than they had, the public messages we do have have passed through many additional filters: the original gospel writers, the transmission of their works through many hands, our participation in a very different culture, and finally, the translation of the resulting texts into English.

A practical consequence of these difficulties is a lack of consensus over the most fundamental concepts of Jesus' preaching, two thousand years worth of the development of doctrine notwithstanding.

Today, I'd like to consider one of these concepts: the kingdom of God, or as Matthew calls it, the kingdom of heaven.

I believe it that Jesus was presenting the kingdom of God as an alternative to the earthly kingdom of Rome. His essential claim is that God deserves our complete allegiance, not the Emperor. This claim is easily adapted, mutatis mutandis as us math types like to say, to the present day. Indeed, the good news of Jesus' ministry is the coming of the kingdom of God.

Luke 4:43 ... he said to them, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose.”

But what and where are the kingdom of God? In Jesus' language, the kingdom of God is near, or far. It is something that we might hope to enter, and indeed, unless we get our righteousness together, tax collectors and prostitutes might enter before us! It is the good news.

One interpretation of the kingdom of God comes from what might be called “great reward Christianity.” These are Christians who believe that their duty is to follow the law, to believe the right things about God/Jesus, and to endure, so that they might obtain personal salvation through a life in heaven. For Christians such as these, the kingdom of God is the great reward, essentially synonymous with an afterlife in heaven. The good news for them is that they get to go to heaven, whatever the disappointments of this life.

I am not this kind of Christian, and I consider this kind of thinking to be misguided. This is not to say that I consider great reward Christianity to be a ticket to hell, for I also believe that through the mercy of God, the afterlife will be a joy for the many and not the few. But I also believe that by failing to participate in the kingdom of God in this life, these Christians have not only failed to let the Word of God thaw their hearts, they've cheated themselves out of the joy that comes from being so close to God, even momentarily, that your will is submerged into his will.

So what do I believe? I believe that the kingdom of God is emergent in this world. I believe that when we act in just ways, e.g., protecting and providing for the weak and caring for God's creation, we bring the kingdom of God closer. And when we act in unjust ways, e.g., by failing to protect and provide for the weak, or by damaging God's creation, we drive the kingdom of God further away. I don't believe we will ever achieve a perfected kingdom of God on earth—our status as fallen beings won't allow that. And I don't believe we can ever drive it completely away—God is too powerful for that. But I do believe that we all benefit if it is closer, as we all suffer if it is further away, and that it is God's will for us that it be nearer rather than farther. In short, we are asked to provide our complete allegiance to God now, not later, and this means that we are to live our lives in the present as his agents in the world.

A common theme of the kingdom of God parables is the tremendous change that a little bit of the kingdom of God can have on the world. How else can we interpret the parable of the yeast, or the parable of the mustard seed? What can these parables possibly mean if kingdom of God refers only to the hereafter?

As for the afterlife itself, it is not something that I think about very much, and I think it gets much more attention in Christian thinking than it deserves. Indeed, I think we should limit ourselves to this: those who have served God on earth will have the opportunity to serve him in heaven, and those who have worshipped God on earth will have the opportunity to worship him in heaven. Probably others will too—it is for God to choose, and we know of his mercy and love. And just to be clear here, I am not advocating works righteousness, but I am advocating that we seek peace and justice in this world, and that we do whatever works that requires, not because this will result in our personal salvation (only Jesus acting through us can do that—Lutherans may insert the formula “by faith through grace,” which is the same thing), but rather because God wants us to.

Peace

Ascents and Descents

I am learning Koine Greek. This is not easy, as I do not seem to be particularly gifted when it comes to languages. This is work, but it must be remembered that work is not a bad thing. In my case, this is a timely discipline, and I am thankful for the opportunity to follow it.

In reading the following, please keep in mind that I am an utter beginner in Greek, albeit a beginner who is willing to take risks. I fully expect any response to this to be of the form, “of course, we've known that all along.” Or, “What cluelessness!” I don't mind, either way, so long as the case is argued well enough that I learn something from it.

Greek has a number of words that convey the sense of personal movement. I've learned ἔρχομαι, πορεύομαι, ἀναβαίνω, and καταβαίνω, to name four. I always wonder in such cases why a language has multiple words. In English, this sometimes means little more than that borrowings happened from different languages, but even in then, a particular choice can shed light on the speaker, and their level of education and/or pretension. But in a language like Greek, it is more likely that the difference is semantic rather than contextual, and therefore a higher likelihood that the choice has significance.

I want to focus now on two of the four words of motion above: ἀναβαίνω—to go up; and καταβαίνω—to go down. I was working through John 2, when I came across these words used in rapid succession: Jesus goes down from Cana to Capernaum, and then he goes up from Capernaum to Jerusalem. Why down? Why up? So I check out the map. OK, I get it. From Cana to Capernaum is a 700 feet drop in elevation, and from Capernaum to Jerusalem is almost 2400 feet of increase. So the up and down can refer to elevation, and the necessarily greater awareness that elevation changes will have among those who walk from one place to another. But is that the complete story?

The worlds ἀναβαίνω and καταβαίνω occasionally co-occur, when there is a desire to create a particular contrast. Here are some examples:

Mark 1:10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. (NRSV)

Here we have the attractive vision that the significance of Jesus moving up while the Spirit moves down is that they are moving towards one another. Matthew 3:16 is a parallel passage, which contains the same imagery. Somewhat surprisingly, Luke 3:22 contains only the image of the descending dove.

John 1:51 And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” (NRSV)

This recalls the story of Jacob's ladder, where the same juxtaposition occurs in the Septuagint:

Genesis 28:12 And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. (NRSV)

In translations, ἀναβαίνω is often rendered as “come up” to express ordinary human motion involving a change of elevation, whereas it is “ascend” when there is a spiritual objective, or a supernatural agent involved. Jerusalem, because of its physical situation, is a location that you ἀναβαίνω to, or καταβαίνω from. You don't ἔρχομαι to Jerusalem. I want to argue that there is a theological pun here, which is more visible in Greek than in English translations.

We know that the Bible often understands that there exist two Jerusalems: the Jerusalem of everyday experience, an imperfect earthly Jerusalem which is often the target of prophetic wrath; and the heavenly Jerusalem, where God reigns, and love and justice are perfected. Yet these two Jerusalems coexist, and might even be viewed as coincident in space. Thus, perhaps it is better to say that Jesus ascends to Jerusalem, prefiguring his ultimate ascent into heavan.

Peace

The Opposite of Love

If you search for “the opposite of love,” you'll find a variety of opinions.

The obvious answer, of course, is that the opposite of love is hate. But there are other answers. According to Elie Wiesel, the opposite of love is indifference. His perspective certainly demands consideration.

But the formula that appeals to me is that the opposite of love is fear. Oddly enough, I first encountered this in a book about war—Google confirms “Gates of Fire,” a fictionalized account of Thermopylae—where the question was first posed the other way around: The opposite of fear is not courage, but love.

This is at first surprising, but if you work on it a bit, it makes sense. We know the fruits of love:

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

The exercise of negating each of these properties, and attributing it as a fruit of fear is left as an exercise to the reader. Moreover, this is a position that has scriptural support:

1 John 4:18 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.

It seems to me that we have become a nation driven by fear. Fear of terrorism. Fear of job loss. Fear of disease -- be it HIV, or H1N1. Fear of change. Fear of government. Fear of the other. Sometimes, fear of all of these, all at once. We fear that the government we fear will fail to inspire fear into the terrorists we fear.

Fear drives out the possibility of love. It eliminates the possibility that we can convert enemies into friends. It makes us weak, vulnerable, and far indeed from the Kingdom of God.

2 Timothy 1:7 for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.

Galatians 5:22-23 the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Stated equivalently, the Spirit gives us love, with all of love's fruits.

It is time, time and past time, for us to set aside this childish thing called fear, and to take up our gift as Spirit-filled Christians, and love.

Peace

Diversity and Division, II

Let's take a closer look at 1st Corinthians 11, per jh's suggestion. All quotations are from the NRSV (an English language witness for the churches of the conservative reformation). I have examined NJB (an English language witness for the Roman Catholic Church), and find, unsurprisingly, no great difference between them.

1 Corinthians 11:1 Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.

This verse appears to refer back to the discussion of 1st Corinthians 10, about food sacrificed to idols, and Paul's injunction that we should not use Christian freedom as a justification for actions that will be harmful to others.

1 Corinthians 11:2 I commend you because you remember me in everything and maintain the traditions just as I handed them on to you.

This is an interesting and possibly important verse. By the principal of locality, it should group with the material immediately preceding or following, but the emphasis on traditions (rather than love) makes it a poor match for the section on eating food sacrificed to idols. So it must look forward.

To my eyes, the organization of the material in 1 Cor 11 is a bit jumbled. But in terms of content and tone, it seems to me that this particular verse must have been originally written as a prelude to 1 Cor 11:23ff: do what I did (1 Cor 11:2), because what I did came from the Lord (1 Cor 11:23). It is almost as if Paul was in the midst of writing one letter to the Corinthians, when he received a new letter from Corinth that informed him of difficulties in the new community, leading him to a hasty reworking of his letter-in-progress to address these problems.

But if we take this verse in situ, as referring to 1 Cor 11:3-16, it presents interesting presents problems and opportunities both for jh and for me. I'd be happy about women leading worship as a church tradition, while jh might not be. I believe that jh would be happy about traditional gender roles (e.g., the husband is the head of his wife), which I don't think deserve the imprimatur of 1 Cor 11:2.

1 Corinthians 11:3-16 But I want you to understand that Christ is the head of every man, and the husband is the head of his wife, and God is the head of Christ. Any man who prays or prophesies with something on his head disgraces his head, but any woman who prays or prophesies with her head unveiled disgraces her head—it is one and the same thing as having her head shaved. For if a woman will not veil herself, then she should cut off her hair; but if it is disgraceful for a woman to have her hair cut off or to be shaved, she should wear a veil. For a man ought not to have his head veiled, since he is the image and reflection of God; but woman is the reflection of man. Indeed, man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for the sake of woman, but woman for the sake of man. For this reason a woman ought to have a symbol of authority on her head, because of the angels. Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man or man independent of woman. For just as woman came from man, so man comes through woman; but all things come from God. Judge for yourselves: is it proper for a woman to pray to God with her head unveiled? Does not nature itself teach you that if a man wears long hair, it is degrading to him, but if a woman has long hair, it is her glory? For her hair is given to her for a covering. But if anyone is disposed to be contentious—we have no such custom, nor do the churches of God.

This is an interesting passage, and one that gets bent in service of a variety of agendas in the general area of gender relations. I think that Borg and Crossan in “The First Paul” have a sensible way of handling this passage, but I'll set it aside for now.

1 Corinthians 11:17-22  Now in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. For, to begin with, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it. Indeed, there have to be factions among you, for only so will it become clear who among you are genuine. When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper. For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!

I think that this was the passage that jh was actually pointing to, as it refers to divisions in the Corinthian church. The problem here appears to be that within the Corinthian church, the agape feast (the precursor to our communion/mass) amounted to several co-located picnics. Each party brought its own food and drink: the rich feasted, while the poor went hungry. I dare say that “prosperity gospel” churches have little use for this passage!

My personal opinion is that we've gone too far in reacting to the criticism that Paul makes here of the Corinthians, in that in our services, the elements represent only a symbolic witness to a feast. Jesus knew that when people ate and drank together, it broke down the barriers between them. It is a shame that our worship does not necessarily accomplish this. Indeed, I think that the standard Lutheran emphasis on communion as a means for forgiveness of sins results in an underemphasis on communion as fellowship creating and identifying sacrament. In my opinion, the ideal form for communion would be a meal embedded within a worship service—one part Mass, one part pot-luck. But this is both a digression and a personal heresy, as well as a tremendous logistical challenge for worship and music committees.

The problem in Corinth was that the very thing that was supposed to symbolic of and instrumental in bringing the community together (the agape feast) had become a vehicle for emphasizing social distinctions. And here, I believe, is where jh's position has the most traction. How can we preserve Christian unity, in the face of differences in worship style and tradition?

1 Corinthians 23-26 For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

The earliest witness to the Words of Institution. It appears to me that these words were intended to frame the agape feast—bread at the beginning, wine at the end, extending the traditional Jewish pre- and post-meal blessings. Again, it seems to me that these are the verses that Paul is pointing to in 1 Cor 11:2, when he spoke of preserving traditions.

1 Corinthians 11:27-32 Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves. For this reason many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.

When I was young, this passage was used to justify the Lutheran practice of first communion following confirmation, typically at the end of the eighth grade year (making confirmation remarkably like a Lutheran Bar Mitzvah). The point was it required education to understand communion, and thereby to guarantee that it would not be taken “in an unworthy manner.” More recently, the interpretation of this verse has tended to focus on the earlier section (1 Cor 11:17-22), and with this has come a freedom to offer communion to younger children, although standard Lutheran practice still requires a brief course as preparation. I don't know what current Roman Catholic practice is, but I expect it is what the older Lutheran practice followed. But here is a curiosity—the Orthodox churches do First Communion as a part of the baptismal service, offering the elements of bread and wine become body and blood to infants. Lutheran practice thus seems to be drifting from Catholic towards Orthodox, although the requirement of pre-communion education still makes it feel more Catholic than Orthodox, even as my daughter (now an adult) had her first communion at age five.

1 Corinthians 11:33-34 So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another. If you are hungry, eat at home, so that when you come together, it will not be for your condemnation. About the other things I will give instructions when I come.

Final exhortations on the subject of the agape feast, with emphasis on the particular issues of the Corinthian community.

To be continued...

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, III

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

This interaction has a distinctly different texture than the typical Jesus-Pharisee interaction of the Gospels, and especially Matthew. Although Jesus does criticize the Pharisees, “Go and learn what this means, … ,” he is also flattering them as well, implying that they are not spiritually ill. I am, of course, aware that many read this implication as ironic, rather than irenic, but it might be better to read it as intending both. Jesus was marvelously adept at disarming his opponents, and he did so not with weapons that cut flesh, but with words that cut to the heart. This is a skill we would do well to emulate.

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, II

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

Why was Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners?

Jesus provided his own exegesis: he was a spiritual physician, come to tend to the needs of spiritually sick. And like the prophets before him, his emphasis was on mercy—what today we might call social justice—rather than on mechanical observances of the law.

Borg and Crossan (and I can hear the eyes of some of you rolling now, but please bear with me) push this in an interesting way. Judaism makes purity (a.k.a. cleanliness) a central concept, ascribing purity both as a primary attribute of God, and as a prerequisite for humans who want to approach God. This is largely operationalized by avoidance of contact with impure things, and by observances through which an individual who had become impure might regain ritual purity. The Pharisee's question, in a style that today we might call concern trolling, asks, “Why does your teacher voluntarily surrender his ritual purity through contact with the impure?,” and “Why do you chose to follow someone who is impure, and who involves you in impurity?” Jesus's counter-argument involves a fundamentally new understanding of contagion, in which contact with God's purity makes impure things become pure. This is a beautiful metaphor for the Kingdom of God in the world, and sets the expectations we should have for ourselves.

I'd like to take this is a somewhat different direction. We're often taught that sin does not consist of actions that are displeasing to God, but rather to a state of broken relationship with God. Concisely, sin is separation from God. Yet in the story above, it was the tax collectors and other sinner who were eating with Jesus Christ, and the Pharisees who were not. Who then was separated from God? And who was in relationship with him?

So what does this mean for us today? I think we are too hasty to judge people around us, and to view people who's differing circumstances have lead to different choices as “sinners.” I do not doubt the power or ubiquity of sin, but I think that too often, we see mere difference as a sin, and rush to judgments that we ought not be making. And I am even more convinced that we should not for a moment think of our churches as “God's club for the righteous,” lest we join the Pharisee of Luke 18:11, and pray, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” Instead, let our churches be open to all who seek God.

Peace

The Wages of Sin ...

Today's posting is a reflection on Tuesday's attack on the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. The basic facts of the matter will surprise few: a white-supremicist felon illegally obtained a rifle, and took it to the Holocaust Museum to kill. And kill he did. His victim was an African-American security guard, Stephen T. Johns, who died protecting others. Mr. Johns was described as a “warm man with a wonderful smile who acted courageously.”

Rom. 6:23 For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (NRSV)

I'll let the English Professor explain why it's “wages … is,” and not “wages … are.” But possible subject-verb disagreement in the translation notwithstanding, who among us doubts that our life of sin ends in death? Or that death is a consequence of sin?

Yet Tuesday's tragic events show that there is no simple correspondence between sin and death. Mr. Johns died, not as a consequence of his sin, but as a consequence of the sin of his murderer. And the murder's underlying sin was hatred—a vile, long-standing and long-nurtured hatred of Jews and African-Americans. Those who nurtured the murderer in his hatred bear an awful responsibility, for just as the murder loaded, aimed, and fired his rifle, they loaded, aimed, and fired the man.

The following poem, “Prologue, intended for a Dramatic Piece of King Edward the Fourth,” by William Blake seems sadly apropos.

O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue To drown the throat of war! When the senses Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness, Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand? When the whirlwind of fury comes from the Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance Drive the nations together, who can stand? When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle, And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death; When souls are torn to everlasting fire, And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain, O who can stand? O who hath caused this? O who can answer at the throne of God? The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it! Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!

In the face of hatred, who can stand?

We can stand. We must stand.

Peace

Liturgy

1 Corinthians 9:19-23 For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings. (NRSV)

In the comments on My Tribe, jh raised the issue of liturgy, and in particular of the Roman Catholic Church's interest in Eastern Rite Liturgies. The Lutheran and Anglican Churches use liturgies that are recognizably derivative of the Catholic Mass, enough so that it is easy for people who are accustomed to one to follow along in an other. My personal inclinations in such matters are perhaps best witnessed by my favorite hymn, “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” which comes from the Divine Liturgy of St. James. I am in so many ways a traditionalist, and within that, a seeker of ancient alternatives.

I see in traditional liturgies a number of admirable qualities. By participating in these liturgies, we feel connected not only to past and future generations, and thereby to the church triumphant, but also to the worship of heaven itself. Through repetition, the tones, the cadences, the images, and even the smells become identified with worship, and so help contribute to the sense of worship.

But I think that Paul's words above contain a message for us: we should be all things to all people, so that by all means some might be saved. In my opinion, the best form of worship for anyone is the form that brings them to and keeps them in Christ, and thus diversity in humanity more than justifies a diversity in worship styles. Indeed, I find value in participating in worship styles very different from those that I am accustomed to, as each speaks to me in a different way, even as I return to traditional forms for my regular worship.

The Spirit moves when, where, and how it wills.

Peace

Tax Collectors and Sinners, I

Matthew 9:10-13 And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (NRSV)

WW, commenting on “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” remarked that she liked to reflect on the Gospels, and on how Jesus welcomed all to his table, even tax-collectors and sinners. A similar observation was made by jh, who remarked that “from the beginning the attraction of christianity was the openness to people as they were.” Amen to that, sister and brother.

I'd like to chew on this passage (and implicitly on related passages), in a sequence of postings.

Today we consider the question, “Who were the tax collectors, and why did they chose to do a job that alienated them from their community?”

The usual starting point for answering this question is the notion of tax farming, in which an individual or group pre-paid the taxes for a certain area, thereby gaining the right to extract and retain taxes from it. This was an intrinsically speculative business: the opportunity for profit came from the possibility that they might extract more than they paid. To make money, you had to squeeze, hard. The assumption is that the tax collectors are the tax farmers, and that their motivation was simple profit—indeed, the Wikipedia article on tax farming that I linked to above identifies St. Matthew as a tax farmer. In this post, I will challenge that assumption.

Let me make my own assumption here. The Romans weren't interested in penny-ante tax farmers. They wanted money, they wanted it now, and they wanted it with as little trouble as possible. Yes, they could always fall back on the legions, but legions were expensive, and they inevitably injured the productive capacity of the regions in which they imposed their will. Common sense indicated that they wanted to work with a few people, each of whom had a lot of money, and had it available up front. In short, they wanted it from the rich. So who was both rich, and empowered by their collaboration with Rome? The Sadducees. Indeed, what we know of their theology—that there is no resurrection, and therefore no punishment or reward for how we live our lives—seems particularly well adapted for people whose livelihood depends on selling out their people.

How does the rich man in Jerusalem recoup the taxes he paid for northern Galilee? He doesn't go door to door, himself. And he certainly doesn't advertise that he's the guy who stands to profit. No, he hires overseers, and they hire the actual tax collectors. And for the tax collectors to be effective, they have to know the community from which they will collect taxes. So who lives in a community, and is willing to be engage in judicial robbery of their friends and neighbors? It must be someone who is truly desperate. Someone who has debts. Someone whose children are starving. Someone who is facing slavery. In short, someone who has only bad choices, someone who was already victimized by society.

And so we shoot the messenger, blame the victim, and call the tax collector a sinner, because any of these are easier than to recognize the ways in which our society is broken, our obligation to fix it, and to pay the price that we must pay to do so.

Jesus, blessed Jesus, took the hard way, the narrow way. The way that lead to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem to Calvary. The way that leads us on.

Peace