From the Book of Judges:
Most blessed of women be Jael,
the wife of Heber the Kenite,
of tent-dwelling women most blessed.
He asked water and she gave him milk,
she brought him curds in a lordly bowl.
She put her hand to the tent-peg
and her right hand to the workmen’s mallet;
she struck Sisera a blow,
she crushed his head,
she shattered and pierced his temple.
He sank, he fell,
he lay still at her feet;
at her feet he sank, he fell;
where he sank, there he fell dead.
(From the Daily Office Lectionary. – Judge 5:24-27 – August 4, 2012)
“Most blessed” be a murderess? What is this? Yesterday, a friend and colleague who was only a little older than I am passed away after several months of pancreatic cancer, so I’m a little sensitive on the subject of death this morning. So, really! What is this?
This is part of the song sung by the judge Deborah and Barak, whom she had made commander of the Israelite forces, as they celebrated victory over King Jabin of Hazor’s Canaanite forces of whom Sisera was the commander. I think folks can be surprised and somewhat taken aback by how bloodthirsty some of our Holy Scriptures are, how much death there really is in the Bible.
We never read these parts in church on a Sunday, even if Morning Prayer is used for the main service of the day (a rarity among Episcopalians now that the Eucharist has taken a central place in our worship). These bloody, violent bits of the story are not found in either the Sunday Eucharistic lectionary nor the Sunday readings for the Daily Office. As a result, tent pegs driven into skulls, she-bears tearing apart children (2 Kings 2:23-24), and babies being dashed against rocks (Psalm 137:9), biblical images of violent, bloody death seldom, if ever, enter the perceptions of church-goers. About the most violent we ever get in church is wreaking vengeance on the nations, binding their kings in chains, and putting their nobles in irons. (Psalm 149:7-8, Proper 18 in Year A and All Saints Day in Year C)
What we have on Sundays is a whitewashed and sanitized religion, cleaned of its gorier, more violent, deadly images – except, of course, the scourging and crucifixion of Christ, but that was done by others, the Romans and the Temple authorities, not by the “good” people. We never learn that “blessed” Jael drove a tent peg into Sisera’s skull, or that the “man of God” Elisha was protected from children’s taunts by wild bears, or that God’s People who batter infants to death are “happy”. Maybe if we did, maybe if these serious images of violence and death were more widely known, these gruesome reminders of how the brutalities of life can also be part of God’s plan for the world (or at least of God’s people’s life in the world), perhaps then religion would not be considered the “fantasy” many think it is, the “pie in the sky by-and-by” irrelevancy some believe it to be.
The religion of the God of Israel is, as the late Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple famously remarked, “the most materialistic religion in the world.” He meant that Christians (and Jews) believe more about matter, believe more positively about matter, and do more with matter than do the devotees of any other religious systems. But beyond that the religions of the Bible face the fact of the dirtiness of life, the downright violent filth of it, and assert that even from that can good come. And if something good can come from the deaths of children torn apart by murderous animals or of infants bashed against rocks by battle-enraged warriors, then perhaps something good can come from the crap, the utterly awful shit that happens in every human life. That, at its raunchiest, basest worst, is the glorious hope present in biblical faith, that even from the very worst of human suffering something good, something happy, something blessed can come. Thanks be to God!
May my friend and colleague Kelly (who I know has been greeted with those welcome words, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”) rest in peace and rise in glory!
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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.
How many of you have ever attended a potluck supper or potluck luncheon in this parish? Let’s have show of hands. OK – hands down. Those of you who have done so . . . have you ever known there to be an insufficiency of food at any such event? Ever? Keep that in mind, please, as we take a look at these lessons today.
This psalm is actually optional for Morning Prayer, but it’s one I rather like, so I included it today. This psalm is a song of God’s abundance. Brotherhood and unity are likened to flowing oil and falling dew. ~ First, the oil. This is “fine oil” or, as another translation renders it, “precious” oil. The Hebrew is from the same root as used repeatedly in Genesis when God describes creation as “good”, towb. This isn’t just any oil! And it flows in copious quantities. This is not just a small amount dabbed on a forehead, such as the church does in the rite of chrismation at baptism or in the anointing of the sick; this is oil poured liberally over the head, flowing onto “Aaron’s beard”, and spilling onto robes. The Hebrew word peh meaning “edge” is here rendered as “collar”, but in older translations it was given the meaning “skirts”, which underscores even more the more the image of profligate abundance. ~ Then the dew. Look at a map of the Holy Land. Mt. Hermon is in southern Syria about 150 miles north of Jerusalem (“Zion”). Dew falls on the mountain in sufficient quantity to run off and water the hills of Zion far to the south. Again, profligate abundance! ~ Today is the start of the Episcopal Church’s 77th General Convention. Coincidentally, the Presbyterian Church USA is in the midst of its similar General Assembly. My prayer today is that brotherhood (is there a non-sexist term that conveys the same idea? – “siblinghood”?) and unity will be abundant and will prevail as the church seeks a path forward to carry out its mission of extending God’s blessing to all.
Sometimes I think the Lectionary editors play games with us and today is one of them. They have combined this advice with Paul’s admonition to the young new bishop Timothy: “No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.” (1 Timothy 5:23) Don’t drink wine. Drink wine. What’s it to be? ~ Hey! It’s the Bible. For nearly every point made somewhere in Scripture, you can find a counterpoint made somewhere else. It is possible to reconcile these two into a message of moderation, but that is often not the case and, in any case, reconciling or trying to harmonize contradictory passages of Scripture is a poor hermeneutic. ~ The Bible is an historic record and represents, among many other things, the changing understandings of God’s people. There is an arc or trajectory of understanding in scripture. There is development from bashing the heads of our enemies’ infants against the rocks (Psalm 137:9) through leaving the gleanings of the vineyard for the alien, the orphan, and the widow (Deut. 24:21) to loving your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18) and, finally, to “this wine is my blood poured out for many” (Mark 14:24). The development may be inconsistent, there may be backsliding, but as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., reminded us, “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” That moral arc is witnessed in Scripture. ~ So have that glass of wine for good health, but “do not be among winebibbers.” (Prov. 23:20)
It rained here last night – pretty spectacular electrical storm, to be honest. The dog spent the night cowering under a table. This morning when I took her out at 6 a.m. the world was freshly washed. In the trees surrounding our home, birds of all sorts were singing and there was a sweetness in the air. Sprinkles with clean water, the earth had been cleaned of its uncleannesses, if only for a moment. ~ It is only a coincidental convergence of the two lectionaries (Episcopal Daily Office two-year cycle with the Revised Common Lectionary three-year cycle), but tomorrow’s Old Testament lesson is Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones in the next chapter of his prophecy. Dry bones, dessicated, dehydrated – emblematic of spiritual emptiness. Clean water, washing, witnessing, revivifying – emblem of the Spirit herself. ~ Tomorrow we will baptize and welcome into God’s household a young lady of about 10 years of age. I find it difficult to conceive of her having “a heart of stone” but I am convinced that in her baptism God will give her a new heart and write on her heart his law of love. Her life will become like the world after the rain, freshly washed and filled with light and sweetness. This is not to say that there will not be dry patches in her life; there are in every life, even the lives of the saints. However, nurtured by the church and sustained by the Spirit, she will be able to make it through those times with more than enough spiritual “moisture”. The Psalms constantly remind us that “the river of God is full of water” (65:9) and that God changes “deserts into pools of water and dry land into water-springs” (107:35). ~ In another vision, Ezekiel saw a river of water flowing from the temple. It flooded the land, in places ankle-deep, in others knee-deep, and in still others waist-deep. The water flowed everywhere and everywhere it flowed was to be the land of God’s people, not just Israel, but all of God’s people. The dry bones of all nations will be restored in the water of God’s river; God will sprinkle clean water upon us all. We call this baptism.
These three similes – I am like a vulture in the wilderness; I am like an owl in the ruins; I am like a lonely sparrow – intrigue me. They are metaphors of solitude but worse than solitude, of loneliness, of being completely cut off. ~ The word translated as “vulture” in the NRSV is qa’ath; older translations rendered this as “pelican”. According to the lexicon the word signifies “a ceremonially unclean bird”, but the lexicon admits that the exact meaning of the ancient Hebrew is unknown. The root of the word is qow’ which means “to vomit”. From some bit trivia learned long ago, I recall that vultures defend themselves with intentional projectile vomiting. The simile depicts one so distraught , so distressed, so stricken that she keeps others away, spewing her grief onto those who would comfort her. ~ The Hebrew word translated as “owl” is kowc: owls also are ritually unclean birds. The lexicon tells us that it is “from an unused root meaning to hold together.” This simile perhaps suggests the same thing as the English phrase “barely holding it together”; amidst the waste and devastation of his life, the psalmist is barely holding on, hanging from his last thread, unable to handle one more thing even a small expression of sympathy and support without “losing it altogether.” ~ In the third simile, the psalm uses the word tsippowr, here translated as “sparrow” although more generically it simply means “bird”. This simile holds out hope where the others do not. The same word is used by prophet Ezekiel to paint a picture Jesus will later use as an encouragement to faith: “On the mountain height of Israel I will plant [a cedar], in order that it may produce boughs and bear fruit, and become a noble cedar. Under it every kind of bird will live; in the shade of its branches will nest winged creatures of every kind.” (Ezek. 17:23) Jesus will change the cedar to a mustard tree and promise that even the smallest amount of faith, faith the size of a mustard seed, can accomplish miracles. (Matt. 13:31-32; Matt. 17:20) For the lonely sparrow on the house-top there is the hope of flocking with others in tree planted by the Lord; for the lonely sparrow there is the hope provided by faith. ~ The rest of the morning psalm expresses that hope. The psalmist acknowledges gratefully that God “will look with favor on the prayer of the homeless; he will not despise their plea” and “their offspring shall stand fast in [God’s] sight.” No matter how cast out, unclean, despairing, or distraught, even the vulture and the owl, together with the sparrow, can come and make nests in the branches of the tree planted by God.
This psalm is not the only time Holy Scripture reports God’s displeasure with the sacrifice of animals. Consider these words from the first chapter of the Book of Isaiah, “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord; I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts; I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats. When you come to appear before me, who asked this from your hand? Trample my courts no more; bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination to me. New moon and sabbath and calling of convocation – I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.” (Isa. 1:11-13) Despite all of the ritual directions found in the Law and in the Histories (see, e.g., Exodus 29, Leviticus 1, Numbers 7, and 1 Kings 18), the Psalmist, the first Isaiah, and especially the Prophet Micah make it very clear that sacrificing innocent animals is not what Judaism (or religion in general) is all about. Micah writes, “‘With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?’ He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:6-8) It may be that doing justice, loving kindness, and walking with God may (and often does) require one to give up one’s possessions, one’s livelihood, even one’s life. But such “sacrifice” without the demanded ethical basis, sacrifice done only to curry favor with God, is not what God asks or wants. ~ It is from this ethical stream in ancient Judaism that Christianity flows. It is unfortunate that early Christian writers looked back to the sacrificial practices of the Temple to find an analog to crucifixion of Jesus; we might have seen the Christian religion develop differently if, like the writers of the Gospels, they had looked more to the prophets. Jesus certainly did: “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40) ~ So spare that bull! Sacrifices of animals (or their modern analogs, whatever they may be) are not the sacrifices that demonstrate love of God and love of neighbor. Rather, the core of ethical religion is as the writer of the Letter to Hebrews said: “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” (Heb. 13:16)
