Ruth and Refugio

It is tempting, reading the Book of Ruth, to absorb the story in charmed, dreamlike terms. Here is Ruth, the beautiful young woman, recently widowed but dedicated to her mother-in-law, Naomi. Lovely and captivating, she rejects her Moabite background to accompany Naomi, also widowed, back to Bethlehem in Israel. Israel, occupying the moral high ground, where anyone would prefer to live. She seems the epitome of a girl at peace. 

Or perhaps not.

In her treatise on “Hospitality” (Dorothy Bass, Practicing our Faith) Ana Maria Pineda tells the story of Refugio, who fled an abusive marriage in Central America with her three small children. She had been beaten regularly, but had remained in the marriage until her husband began beating the children;  finally she gathered the courage to leave. It was risky. Her husband was a town leader and his family would go to great lengths to protect his reputation. All signs of impropriety were suppressed. Her departure would, in their eyes, dishonor him, and they would go to great lengths to prevent it.

After weeks of indecision she recalled the name of a relative who had left the village a few years before to live in the United States. She discretely managed to locate and contact him, sharing her dilemma and asking for his help. Finally a cryptic message arrived giving her directions for travelling to a city in the US. It would be less dangerous, he said, if she avoided the town where he lived.

Pineda says, “At the designated hour she and her children boarded a small van. They crouched down as they were driven across the US border. From there, they traveled for what seemed an eternity. Refugio was filled with self-doubt. Perhaps it had not been such a good idea to leave her husband. What would she do in this strange land? She could not speak the language. She did not have much money, and what would she do once it was spent? As the children began to fret and cry, her fear increased, and she felt helpless to assure them that all would be well. Finally, overcome by weariness, Refugio fell asleep.”

Now consider Ruth, encouraged to return to her family. But she will be excluded and shamed for marrying a foreigner, someone outside the tribe. She has dishonored her family and she will be dishonored in turn. To go back is dangerous, to go to Israel is equally perilous. Her sister decides to return and face whatever consequences await. Ruth determines to stay with the threat she knows.

But it isn’t easy. Naomi tries over and over to dissuade her. “No, you can’t come. No, stay here. No, stop following me.” But Ruth says in effect, “I’m coming. No matter where I go, my life is forfeit. I’m coming with you. Your God will be my God.”

And so they straggle into town, Ruth following at a distance while Naomi grieves her widowhood and the unfairness of God toward her. The people of Bethlehem don’t recognize her. “Can this be Naomi? She doesn’t look like Naomi. Too distraught!”

 “Don’t call me Naomi,” she tells them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me.”

After they arrive Ruth determines to pay her way, Naomi being without financial support. But the work at the barley harvest can be a dangerous as well. Especially with the gleaners, who are more than willing to take advantage of a young single woman. But she ends up in a field belonging to Boaz, a relative, who asks, “Who does that young woman belong to?” He instructs her to stay close to the women working there and says, “I have told the men not to lay a hand on you.” Because they might try; otherwise why mention it? So Ruth, and by association Naomi, have fallen under the protection of Boaz. She asks him, “Why have I found such favor in your eyes that you notice me—a foreigner?”

Boaz replies, “I’ve been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband—how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”

Refugio: Delivered safely to Little Havana, she awakens to tranquility in a sleepy neighborhood that bids her welcome, offering her a place to rest, and to live.  

Ruth (or is she also Refugio, the refugee?): Delivered safely to Bethlehem, a sleepy village. She has followed in the wake of bitter grieving Naomi, wondering, perhaps, whether the townspeople there will simply imprison her for a while and then snatch her back to Moab because, after all, she is a foreigner. It is fortuitous that she instead lives in safety beneath the wings of the Lord/Boaz. It leaves one wondering whose protection she would fall under today if she were to follow her mother-in-law across our southern border.

Fragile Freedoms II

As we consider the values that shape our church life together it seems appropriate to mention two aspects of freedom lifted up by Walter Shurden in his book, Four Fragile Freedoms. 

Church Freedomis the “… affirmation that local churches are free, under the Lordship of Christ, to determine their membership and leadership, to order their worship and work, to ordain whom they perceive as gifted for ministry, male or female, and to participate in the larger Body of Christ…”

Religious Freedomis the “historic … affirmation of freedom of religion, freedom for religion, and freedom from religion, insisting that Caesar is not Christ and Christ is not Caesar.” (In a previous article I mentioned two others, Soul FreedomandBible Freedom.) 

Quaker history isn’t identical to Baptist history, the perspective from which Shurden writes. It is, however, complimentary to Baptist identity. It can be said without question that the “fragile freedoms” Shurden identifies were, and still are, compatible in many ways with Quaker philosophy and practice.

George Fox founded the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers, in the 17^thcentury in England. Those in the movement were persecuted for their beliefs, which included the idea that the presence, or “light,” of God exists in every person. This conviction, along with the Quaker rejection of elaborate religious ceremonies and official clergy, contrasted sharply with prevailing Christian theology. 

Both Protestant and Catholic churches insisted that children were born in a state of sin, dependent on the reception of the Holy Spirit as an affirmation of God’s presence in their lives. It was the role of the church to usher in the Spirit via infant baptism, preferably right away. Otherwise they might die early and salvation would be impossible. To suggest that God could be resident without such intervention was considered blasphemous, and was firmly rejected. Baptists, who clashed with clerical power primarily over their opposition to infant baptism, were imprisoned in the colonies over this issue.

The Quakers ran afoul of another conviction. It was that every individual had the light of God within them. Not only did they reject infant baptism. They denied the power of the clergy and the church to determine where God would take up residence. 

Quakers, then, as inhabitants of both England and the New World, didn’t have official clergy and believed in spiritual equality for men and women. They played a key role in both abolition and women’s rights movements. In some quarters they did not consider themselves Christians.

A current example of Church Freedom arises when we consider the formation of NEFC in its separation from NFC. Without the guarantee of church freedom it could be said that NFC had no “right” to exclude certain members, and likewise NEFC had no “right” to form a separate congregation. Those actions would be viewed as illegal. I have no idea which religious group holds the record for the most church splits in history, but I doubt any party could outdo the Baptists. They might be viewed as the Church Split Experts.

Quakers have traditionally practiced pacifism, insistence on male and female spiritual equality, the refusal to take oaths, and the right of women to speak out during worship. (This last is still a point of contention in both Catholic and some Protestant circles when those pesky women just refuse to remain silent.)

From a broadened perspective it could be said that the idea of religious freedom and the resistance to it is primarily a power struggle. That was the case in Colonial America where Anglican, Puritan, and Congregational churches initially held sway. Most attempted to enforce strict religious observance, with colony governments and town rules mandatingthat everyone attend a house of worship and pay taxes that funded the salaries of ministers. Thus before colonial independence and the passage of constitutional amendments some persecution was common. 

Both Quakers and Baptists were initially targeted. Later it was Mormons, Christian Scientists, and Native Americans. Today Muslims are in the crosshairs. Ideally we are a free people who celebrate our religious freedom and honor and defend the freedom of others. Often, however, it falls to Quakers (and Baptists too) to defend those ideals.

At NEFC we have been exploring the implications of a Trinitarian understanding of God. It is one that suggests a meeting of individualism and corporate identity. Shurden identifies three basic types of church government among Christian churches. They are episcopal, presbyterian, and congregational. In episcopal church government, authority is placed in the hands of one person, usually a bishop. In presbyterian church government, authority is vested in a small group, often called elders within the local church. In congregational church government, authority is placed in the hands of all the members of the church.

As Shurden points out, those in the free church tradition, including Friends, practice democratic church polity not because it is more efficient or more reliable or even more biblical than other forms. In fact I suspect if a visiting Quaker told you the “Quaker Way” was more efficient than other approaches, you might wonder which congregation they were previously a part of.   Instead Quakers follow democratic church polity because it accents the role of the individual within community, allowing the greatest freedom for the greatest number of people to have a say. Moreover, democratic church polity is a statement of the equality of all believers in determining the mind of Christ.

When Quakers (and Baptists) began in seventeenth-century England, a crucial part of their cry for freedom was the determination to worship God according to conscience. Specifically, they wanted freedom from the set forms of Anglicanism as recorded in The Book of Common Prayer. Their aim was to personalize and revitalize worship.  At NEFC, Open Worship sets the stage for vital worship. It offers each of us occasions to hear God’s voice not only for us as individuals, but for the congregation as a whole.

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References

Shurden, Walter B.. The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms (p. 45). Smyth & Helwys Publishing. Kindle Edition.

https://www.facinghistory.org/nobigotry/religion-colonial-america-trends-regulations-and-beliefs

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congregational_church

https://www.history.com/topics/immigration/history-of-quakerism

Independence Day

It seems appropriate, closely following Independence Day, to talk about freedom. In a recent business meeting at our church there was discussion about the future name of the congregation. One agreement seemed to surface among those present, that the name should somehow reflect the inclusiveness we value as a congregation. I raise the issue as one, along with my family, who has recently been inclused (oops, included) in the life of the church. That experience has encouraged me to describe the other side of the coin, so to speak. Many of you relate to the value of inclusion as those who do the including. Others of us, and I would hope many still to come, relate as its recipients.

We arrived in Newberg after a rather circuitous geographical journey as American Baptists, serving in pastoral roles in Lyndhurst, OH, Berwyn, IL, Medford, OR, and Colorado Springs, CO. We ended the excursion nearby where I served as Interim Pastor at McMinnville First Baptist Church. Then, thanks to my daughter and her family’s attendance here, we landed at Newberg Friends. Having arrived from FBC McMinnville, an outspoken supporter in American Baptist circles of LGBTQ individuals, we unquestioningly stayed with NEFC when divisions arose.

I think it has been a smooth transition. At no point have we been shunned because we didn’t have a Quaker last name, nor because you suspected us of being furtive Southern Baptist spies. My biggest challenge, and I suspect it is a trial for any newcomer without a Quaker background, was figuring out the rules of social engagement. Language is fundamental. I attended an early Communications Committee meeting (are they “committees”?) where I inquired about the timetable for selecting a new church name. Others explained that timetables weren’t the “Quaker way” and the new name would be suggested and agreed on at the right time. Frankly I’d had little experience with patiently waiting for the Spirit to move. The two guides to faith and practice I depended on were the Bible and the Calendar.

Some of you have eased the way. Howard Macy and David Sherwood have been most good-natured in guiding me along under the new rules of the road. At one point I asked whether it was expected for the pastor to relate his or her personal experience during the sermon (oopsagain: teaching) because I’d heard Greg and Steve and Elizabeth do so consistently. American Baptist pastors are usually content to use examples from other people’s lives and avoid personal history. If it was righteous it might sound like bragging, and if it was sinful you could be accused of being, well, sinful. Howard assured me personal history wasn’t demanded, but it was acceptable.

In sum we have been welcomed and embraced whole-heartedly, and feel blessed to be with you. One lingering question for me, then, is “What do we bring to the table?” Let me suggest some values that support and may enrich those being considered by the congregation. They come from a book by Walter B. Shurden, Executive Director of the Center for Baptist Studies at Mercer University, titled The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 1993). Two of the freedoms he identifies are:

Bible Freedom, the historic affirmation that the Bible, under the Lordship of Christ, must be central in the life of the individual and church and that Christians, with the best and most scholarly tools of inquiry, are both free and obligated to study and obey the Scripture.

Soul Freedom, the historic affirmation of the inalienable right and responsibility of every person to deal with God without the imposition of creed, the interference of clergy, or the intervention of civil government.

According to Shurden these values describe

·      members of the whole Christian family who stress the experience of personal salvation through faith in Jesus;

·      those who under the Lordship of Jesus Christ have bonded together in free local congregations, together seeking to obey Christ in faith and in life;

·      those who follow the authority of Scriptures in all matters of faith and practice;

·      those who have claimed religious liberty for themselves and all people;

·      those who believe that the Great Commission to take the Gospel to the whole world is the responsibility of the whole membership.

So while “What do I bring to the table?” may be a pressing question, the overriding issue is “Who am I in this place?” For many people their identity is centered on racial heritage or sexual preference, political persuasion or occupation. “I identify as a white male;” or “I identify as a teacher.” To me it seems preferable to say, “We are part of a congregation who believe that as individuals we have come to put our trust in God and confess Christ as Savior and Lord, accepting the Scriptures as our guide for faith and practice.” Plus I am almost ready to say I identify as a Quaker. Almost.

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The Hoosier Apex

     I have decided to take pity on the greater population of the United States because Purdue is now in the national basketball spotlight. As a result you will quite possibly be exposed to what is linguistically known as the Hoosier Apex, a select part of the country located in Mid-America. 

     When you visit there it seems like you have suddenly wandered into the State of Alabama. Hoosier people speak as if they are competing for the championship of Slow Talkers of America, and there is no such thing as a short conversation. It is where if someone says the word greasy the s is transformed into a z, resulting in greazy. It is where the addition of the letter s, not z, is essential to a conversation: Have you sold your guyses house yet? No, not yet. How come? Relying on the past tense -  It just needs redecorated or somethin.

     So here are some Hoosier translations of words you may be familiar with and of which you mistakenly think you know the correct pronunciation:

     Creek – Crick (can also be a neck problem). Tower – Tar. As in Water Tar. Related is Shower – Shar, from the clouds or in the bathroom. Mango– not a fruit in Hoosierland, but a green pepper. Potatoes areTaters and Tomatoes are Maters. And by the way, when it thunders, the taters are rollin.

     Most words that you suppose require a g at the end do not, e.g. lightnin, runnin, shoppin. You don’t sit, you set, and you set a spell if you mean to stay a bit. You haven’t eaten, you’ve et. And inexplicably you don’t get, you git. It can mean to acquire, or to leave immediately. 

     We eat pecon pie, like in wand, not pecan, like in band, and our mother’s sister is an ant, not an  Southern East Coast spawned awnt. Buggy isn’t a mosquito-filled night but a conveyance; my grandmother had one, with a horse. D’rectly is how you’re to come home from school, and Laws doesn’t mean rules, but is a substitution for Lord when combined with A’Mighty, thus avoiding taking God’s name in vain. 

     Yer is possessive, either singular or plural. Ain’t is isn’t, snoot-full is drunk, holler is either a shout or a low place between two hills (not many of which exist in Indiana) or in the woods (which do). And finally, you would be tarred from a long day’s work – or from learning to talk like this.

     It will, however, be worth it if Purdue keeps winning. You may even encounter a television announcer who can actually speak intelligently, like a true Hoosier. As a graduate of Indiana University (not the University of Indiana, which I think is squirreled away somewhere east of the Apex) I’m usually not respectful of the Boilermakers (not a steelworkers’ union) but I would never instead support the hated teams from Michigan or Ohio , may they feel the heat of eternity forever. Enjoy the playoffs!

Suffer the Little Children On the Two-Seat Side of the Plane

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had. (Romans 15:5, NIV)

Margie and I have been talking recently about what is a fairly new phrase for me: “God-sightings.” I know, I’ve been out of the loop. On the one hand it has caused me some confusion because “sightings” isn’t a word I’ve usually connected with God’s presence. God’s visibility has been rather limited in my life. Still small voices occasionally, but no burning bushes. At the same time I’ve been able on many occasions to “see” God in retrospect - not God’s physical features, but instances of God’s abounding love and forgiveness. They have shaped my life.

Those have been learning moments, and when I’ve taken them to heart they have prodded me toward kingdom living. The converse has also been true. I clearly recall times that God was inviting me to go in one direction and I stubbornly took the other. 

One occurred a few years ago. I had boarded a flight from Chicago to Colorado Springs, and since I was preaching the next day I reflected on a passage from Matthew’s Gospel. In it Jesus admonished his disciples who wanted to isolate him from kids. “Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’" (Mark 10:14 NIV) I put on my seat belt and settled in to better understand Jesus’ response.  It was clearly a directive to encourage children, inspire patience, and support them. 

That’s when the stewardess, Christine, sat Shelby next to me. She said Shelby was a 6^th grade boy heading home after visiting his divorced mother in Rochester, NY. Would I mind? He was accompanied by a 3 foot tall stuffed Ninja turtle in a large yellow sweatshirt.

As I read about Jesus and the children, Shelby was inventorying candy and gum from his backpack, his pockets, and the sweatshirt of the turtle, whose name was Leonardo. Most of the candy went directly into Shelby’s mouth. I looked up a moment later to see Christine standing over us. Shelby had pushed the call button, but he couldn’t remember why. Christine reminded him to raise the window shade because we hadn’t taken off yet, and he did – repeatedly – while unwrapping some more gum. Shelby was truly a multi-tasker.

After we took off Shelby pressed the call button again, and when Christine arrived he asked for a Coke. She said drink service would be soon (“But when?!”) (“Soon!”). This conversation provided just the opportunity for him to ask me to stand in the aisle; he needed to get out and go to the bathroom.

At last, a Coke for Shelby. I thought the two-liter bottle of water in his backpack had run out, but from his viewpoint it was just poorly packaged. He couldn’t gnaw a hole in the bottom of it like he could in a plastic airline cup. Doing so allowed him to suck the contents out from the bottom; he accomplished this while stirring what remained with his finger, disrobing Leonardo, and asking why I didn’t get a Coke. I told him the leaders of my congregation only permitted me to drink Pepsi. After I explained the meaning of “congregation” he was off to the bathroom again.

Another call to the stewardess. In response to his repeated inquiry – “How long?!” – Christine told Shelby that we were still at least an hour away from Colorado Springs. This allowed ample time for him to eat more candy, use his seat as a trampoline, study the height to which a tray table would bounce and question the passenger behind him about her destination. Evidently it hadn’t occurred to him that we were all headed for the final stop, Colorado Springs. He also made another trip to the restroom.

A half hour from home, Shelby had engaged in at least three rounds of energetic fisticuffs with Leonardo. He marked the final round by pushing the call button, again wanting to know our arrival time. Christine responded and said, “Twenty minutes.” He decided there was an opportunity for one last bathroom run. And this was the moment my Christian commitment to encourage little children deserted me. Lacking compassion, I tried to dissuade him.

“Think about something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Think about taking a shower.”  He groaned.

“Drinking fountains.” 

“Uuggh.”

“Niagara Falls.”  

He rolled his eyes and crawled over my legs, headed aft. I could see that there was a line for the restroom, and then the captain came on the loudspeaker with news of thunderstorms ahead and the need for seatbelts. I waited to fasten mine because I knew Shelby would be back soon, and after we hit the first air pocket he was, eyes wide from the sudden drop. He hopped over me into his seat, buckled in, and told me he didn’t have to go that bad after all.

Paul’s challenge of encouragement faces us in the story about Jesus and the children. Encouragement can be a burden. We have to work at it. But Jesus knows we’re also blessed by it. As we encourage others, not just children, to persevere in patience and faith, we gain fresh perspectives and new understandings of God’s grace for ourselves. I suspect those are “God-sightings.”

But I also suspect something has been left out of the gospel accounts of Jesus’ meeting with these disciples, parents, Pharisees, and kids. I wonder if, when he insisted on letting the little children come to him, at least one mother in the crowd didn’t say under her breath, “Be my guest.” 

                                                           

Michael Sayler, a former Christian Education pastor

On Intent

I abandoned the project I had chosen:

Copying the renaissance master drawings

From the illustrated book of renaissance master drawings.

I found that I could visualize them

One after another

But using pencil or charcoal or chalk and paper

To match one, let alone each, proved impossible.

Which was discouraging

Because these drawings replaced my intent

Being of a religious leaning

To read the Bible in six months,

Not beginning in six months, but over the immediate span of six months,

A plan frustrated by my decision to read at night

When sleep conquered the text, beginning with Genesis (In The Beginning).

I had counted reading a substitute

For my goal

Of regaining my former athleticism

(Which I never really had)

By swimming at least a mile each day

Only to find myself exhausted after eight pool lengths

Or the lanes too crowded or the facility closed 

So abandoning the water I returned to the land

Swimming was meant to be a countermeasure

For my poorly chosen plan 

To lose weight and stop smoking and refrain from alcohol 

In order to enter a monastic life pattern 

Of prayer, reflection, and meditation

Just to find those forbidden fruits 

Singing a siren song

Too hard to ignore

I had hoped for success in that effort 

Because of my previous inability 

To read beginning in January

Last year’s 20 best books

Which I purchased all at once but they remain

On the nightstand beside my bed

Awaiting the renewal of my interest

But now I will immerse myself

With the help of a writing group

To author a book of poetry over the coming months

Perhaps one or two poems a day

Of which this is the first

Even though composing it has bored me

January 2019

What We Asked You

We asked you where we were going

On buses at night with our backpacks

And when would we come back

To the homes that sheltered us

But you said nothing

And you let us out in a world of tents

And we found our beds

Along with a thousand other children

And we asked you how long we would stay

And you said nothing

And we told you we had heard about 

Huddled masses yearning to breath free

And we asked you who would care for us now

With no caretakers to turn to like before

And you said nothing

And we told you we heard that any immigrant

Could come into your country and seek asylum

And you said, Sorry. We are overwhelmed.”

And we said “We heard it was a law.”

And after you finished from roaming throughout the earth, 

Going back and forth on it, you said

“That’s not what it means.”

I Dwell in Possibility

In a Saturday Night Live skit from 2012 Cicily Strong ("The Girl You Wished You Hadn’t Started a Conversation With at a  Christmas Party") challenged Seth Myers to reveal what he wanted for Christmas; he responded by saying, “A new iPad.” Her wish? “An end to genocide.” That brought a rather bemused look from Myers, probably because it seemed to him an impossible request. She scolded him for his reaction. “Seth, wake up and smell the music. Open your iPad and learn what it takes to be a decent human being.” 

Despite the comedic setting, hers was the answer of the two requiring some measure of hope. You know, what Emily Dickinson calls “ a thing with feathers.” Or as she puts it elsewhere,

I dwell in Possibility –

A fairer House than Prose –

More numerous of Windows –

Superior – for Doors – (1)

My theology professor in seminary was frequently asked whether he believed in the resurrection and eternal life. His invariable response was, “Well, we can hope.” This was a less than suitable answer for some students. They were in the mood for quotes from the King James Bible. As a result they began challenging him and other faculty members about their beliefs concerning the “end times.”  This was during the huge popularity of Hal Lindsay, when any theology of value supposedly had a specific sort of apocalyptic foundation. It was also reminiscent of the religious leaders in early Jerusalem who waited until there was a public gathering, then tried to embarrass or discredit Jesus by entrapping him with legal questions.  The 1970’s students in question made little headway converting the faculty and, disquieted and upset, withdrew from classes. They enrolled elsewhere. 

It took others, like me, some time to see the sense of “Well, we can hope.” I began to understand that the teacher’s reply had no connection to hope for rain, safe travels, or a raise in pay. Instead it was linked to the repeated promise in the Hebrew Bible that God is faithful to save, and the New Testament assertion that hope, along with love and faith, abides. Besides, in the New Testament the foundation for hope is the belief in the resurrection of Christ. Without that, as Willie Wonka would say, “You get nothing.” (2) Or as Paul writes further, “And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. … If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (3)

But hope, albeit faint, does surface occasionally. Annie Dillard writes about Miss Arvilla Pulver, the teacher in a one-room schoolhouse in an 1800’s Washington settlement. “Over time she had come to believe and pray that an educated, humane generation might actually arise from every American hamlet, and work selflessly for the nation, to break the power of the [business and banking] Interests, meliorate living and working conditions, ban corruption, end exploitation, and redistribute wealth.” (4)

In religious terms this, like the desire for an end to genocide, is probably more of a wish than a biblical hope. I embrace both, however, even if the humane generation of Arvilla Pulver only shows up in Washington DC.

Pastor Mike

1. Dickenson, Emily.  “Hope is a Thing with Feathers” and “I Dwell in Possibility.”  The Poetry Foundation. 
2. My apologies, since I just saw my grandson William in the play, “The Chocolate Factory.”  He was terrific.
3. I Corinthians 15:19
4. Dillard, Annie. The Living, p 67

Salvation and Old Women

I’m (re)reading Galatians, with a commentary by my friend Sam Williams alongside the text, wondering whether discussions about salvation have any merit, and what my ideas about it are. They’re sort of fluid, centering one minute on biblical descriptions of people seated around a throne singing “Alleluia,” and the next on being absorbed into some sort of cosmic bundle of love. My wife, much more spiritual than I, votes for a connection between salvation and belonging to a loving, like-minded community, and she’s probably correct.

I frequently link salvation to past life experiences that have left deep impressions on me, some taking place as early as grade school. One involves attending an overnight children’s church camp where dinner was followed by a worship service. At the end of it several counselors gathered in a circle with a candle, and with all the other lights out they asked whether we would rather stay out in the darkness forever, or  join them and come into the light Jesus offered. I fairly sprinted to the candle. No dark eternity for me; at seven years old I wasn’t that dumb.

I also remember, in second grade, being bullied by two classmates who delighted in making fun of the way I walked (slightly pigeon-toed) and then tripping me. Salvation came when they finally quit. 

But I sometimes played the opposite role by kneeling down behind Tom Thatcher. He was oversized as a fifth- and  sixth-grader, especially clumsy, and renowned for the time he put a Scheaffer pen ink cartridge in his mouth and bit down on it, drooling blue ink to the delight of everyone else in the class. 

So in this other role I would kneel, someone else would push, and Tom would go down backward. I felt no remorse for this until I was in college and Tom, who had joined the Marines, was killed in Viet Nam. A few years ago I saw his name on the wall in Washington D.C. I’ve often thought that if salvation were achieved because someone earned it, and it was between the two of us, Tom would be the more deserving, and I would be consigned finally to the outer darkness.

But my understanding of salvation as an escape from trouble or illness or death has often been reinforced. When my five year-old daughter and I took the train one night to downtown Chicago to pick up a friend at Union Station and returned with him on another train to Berwyn, we waited in the rain to cross the tracks. I could see the commuter train coming into view and even though the gates were down I said to my daughter and my friend, “Come on, we can make it.” But an angel dressed as an old woman grabbed my arm and said “Stop!” just as the express train roared by on the inside track. When I caught my breath and turned to thank her she was quite gone. So now, unlike my wife, I think of salvation in terms of Jesus, light, rain and old women. It is really quite comforting.

On Mercy

Four traditional values are typically lifted up in Protestant churches during the advent season: Peace, Joy, Love, and Hope. But a fifth value, Mercy, is often overlooked.

In the Hebrew Bible, there is a group of related words that are often translated as “mercy.” “Ahavah” refers to God’s enduring love for Israel.  “Rachamim” comes from the root word “rechem,” or womb, suggesting a maternal connection between God and human beings.“Chesed,” the word translated as “mercy” in Psalm 85, suggests God’s steadfast loyalty.

(Schmalz, Matthew, “What is the True Meaning of Mercy?” The Conversation. February 8, 2017  http://theconversation.com/what-is-the-true-meaning-of-mercy-72461 Retrieved Dec 10, 2018)

Mercy is foundational to our understanding of the person of God. In the Hebrew Bible, the Psalms refer repeatedly to God’s mercy. The Psalmist loves God because God has heard his cry for mercy (Ps 116). He pleads for mercy when forgiveness is desired, when enemies threaten him, or when judgment is feared (Ps 146). 

Mercy is shown when sin is confessed (Prov. 28:13). God desires mercy, the acknowledgment that the Lord is God (Hosea 6:6). Mercy is acting justly and with humility as one walks with God (Micah 6:8). In many respects the request for mercy is at the core of the argument that God has no choice but to be merciful because God is and has promised to be loving, kind, and steadfastly loyal. The Psalmists and others gently tug on God’s coattails to remind him to behave himself. It is also a recognition that because God is merciful, so should his people be. 

The difficulty with mercy, as we find it in the New Testament, is how subversive it is. In the beatitudes (Matt 5:1ff), "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom belongs not to the wise or powerful but to those who are "poor in spirit," that is, people who recognize their spiritual poverty and their need for divine salvation. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Those who suffer in this life will receive comfort in the next. (Saturday Night Theologian “Matthew 5:1-12” 30 January 2005 Retrieved December 10, 2018 http://progressivetheology.org/SNT/SNT-2005.01.30.html retrieved December 10, 2018)

Mercy becomes problematic in Matthew for two reasons. First, like forgiveness, it is reciprocal. “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” “The measure you give is the measure you get.” Judge not lest you be judged.” And here, “Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy.” It doesn’t say specifically that the unmerciful won’t receive mercy, but that’s the implication. Mercy appears to9 be quid pro quo.

Second, God’s mercy seems reserved for those on the margins of society who have faith. Mary, who lives there, perceives it keenly. 

She mentions it twice:

46 And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord

47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

48 for he has been mindful of the humble state 

     of his servant,

for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.

50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,

    from generation to generation.

51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;

    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.

52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones

    but has lifted up the humble.

54 He has helped his servant Israel,

    remembering to be merciful

55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,

    just as he promised our ancestors.” (Luke 1:46-53)

This God is the Mighty One who scatters the proud, brings down rulers, lifts up the humble, sends the rich away empty and fills the hungry with good things. Mercy is for the poor, the beleaguered, the outcasts, the bullied, and the ill-treated. 

“Those who long for inner righteousness and outer justice (the Greek word can mean both) will see their desires fulfilled. There are few who are truly righteous, and many who think they are, are not. … 

“If your heart doesn't ache at the injustice in the world--the poverty, the socio-economic inequality, the racism, the hate, the intolerance of one religion for another--you are falling short of the righteousness that Jesus taught and exemplified.” 

(Saturday Night Theologian “Matthew 5:1-12” 30 January 2005 Retrieved December 10, 2018 http://progressivetheology.org/SNT/SNT-2005.01.30.html)

Sarah Dylan points out that mercy was much needed by followers of Jesus. They were often the “pushed out.” They ate with and entered into social relationships with the opposite sex and with “sinners.” They were encouraged to abandon their families and follow Jesus. They refused to enter Into contests of honor, forgiving enemies and seeking reconciliation instead of revenge.

 “Such disobedience shamed the whole family, threatening everyone's welfare in the process; small wonder that those who engaged in it were so often pushed out.”

 Dylan says that Jesus gathers in all of these people and he gives them honor. “Their human fathers may have disowned them, but they are children of the God who created the universe, to whom all honor belongs.”

Jesus also gives them family. “They are children of one Father, and that makes them brothers and sisters. They will never be bereft in a community that sees themselves as family, and that cares for one another in ways that show that they take that family relationship with utmost seriousness.” 

(“Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A”  January 25, 2005 Dylan’s Lectionary Blog. Retrieved December 10, 2018. https://www.sarahlaughed.net/lectionary/2005/01/fourth_sunday_a.html)

In the Gospels, then, mercy has the character of a rescue operation, throwing a protective cover over those who have been forced to the margins of society. They become an echo of Onesimus, once considered worthless but now useful, worthwhile to God. (Phil 1:11) Mercy is God’s response when people yell “Uncle,” when conditions are so bad that when Jesus meets them on the road they cry, “Have mercy! I give up - save me!” And he does.

Paul takes things a step further. He wasn’t out on the social margin, he was at its center. And mercy wasn’t granted because he followed Jesus. He hadn’t reached out to Jesus for healing or even for forgiveness. It wasn’t promised because he had declared his faith and now deserved to be saved. HIs only contribution was to fall on the ground and go blind for three days (Acts 9:3ff). Mercy was given to make an example of him - Paul was the worst of sinners: “But for that very reason I was shown mercy” (1 Tim 1:6).

God displayed his immense patience in Paul’s life as an example for those who would come to believe in Christ. Paul’s reasoning in retrospect was that as the worst of sinners, the persecutor of Jesus and Christians, all others’ sins would pale in comparison to his. And those others, in turn, could see that by example God’s patience, and likewise God’s forgiveness, was being extended to them. God isn’t impatient; God is merciful.

The prospect of this sort of mercy is a surprising offer to those of us who realize that we, like the rich ruler (Luke 18:18ff), have at some point been dipped in an anesthetic. We only vaguely recall that we may have stolen, but only a little, lied, but not grievously, lusted, but not openly, and retaliated, but not murderously.

We are the ones who still mimic the rich ruler’s shortcoming: we haven’t loved because we don’t know how. Instead we are business people who have treated competitors deceptively, not of honestly. We are politicians who have sought revenge instead of reconciliation. We have chosen power over others instead of community, and wealth over giving. We have been dismissive of strangers instead of welcoming, and we have objectified members of the opposite sex, seeing them only as opportunities for physical satisfaction, as having no personalities of their own that we recognized or that we cared about. 

Paul, the undeserving recipient of mercy, opens the door to God’s mercy for us. As Abraham Joshua Heschel says, “This is why we pray, ‘Purify our hearts so that we may worship Thee in honesty.’

“It requires a great honesty to realize before whom we stand, for such realization is more than having a thought in one’s mind. It is a knowledge in which the whole person is involved, the mind, the heart, the body and soul. What is left for us to do except to pray …and even if such prayer is tainted with vanity, His mercy accepts and redeems our feeble efforts.” 

(Essential writings, “Out of the Depth We Cry for Help.” Orbis books, Maryknoll, NY, 149-150)