Have you ever had an experience that was so intense, so overwhelming, that to this day, years later, you can still remember it vividly? Maybe it was your first trip to the ocean, your first kiss, the first time you heard a particular song, a personal triumph, a wedding, a funeral. Have you ever had an encounter with God that made such an impression that you'll never forget the feeling you had at that moment? In the year that King Uzziah (a.k.a. Azariah) died, Isaiah had such an experience while worshiping in the temple. Perhaps he was particularly close to the king--some scholars have suggested that he was related to the royal family. The death of the king may have heightened Isaiah's sensitivity to hear God's voice. Despite the loss of a beloved leader, Isaiah had a vision of God seated securely on the throne, unaffected by the temporary problems of the nation of Judah. Judah's throne may have been empty, but the heavenly throne was occupied, so there was no need to fear. In his vision, Isaiah saw strange heavenly beings (perhaps winged serpents) flitting about the throne praising God. They cried out, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." Though this short adulation has traditionally been interpreted by Christians as a reference to the Trinity (hence its presence among the readings for Trinity Sunday), the repetition of a word is a typical Hebrew way of expressing the superlative degree: God is completely holy; none other approaches God in holiness. That Isaiah understood the statement in this way is suggested by his cry, which echoes the appellation applied to God, "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Isaiah's statement is both profound and provocative. It is profound because he recognizes the true state of sinful, weak humanity in the presence of the almighty God. It is provocative because the prophet is not afraid to claim the extraordinary: he has actually seen God. Isaiah's exclamation offers a challenge to us more than 2500 years later: can we look at the world as it truly is, a world all too often characterized by terrible evil and suffering, selfishness and greed, hatred and inhumanity, and still see God? If we can't, then we'd better keep our mouths shut about the problems of the world, because although we might be able to criticize, we won't have anything positive to offer. However, if we are able to see God, even dimly, then we will be able to draw on our encounter with the divine to exhort and encourage those around us. It is only when we have an authentic encounter with God, one that makes an indelible impression on our souls, that we will be able to say, "Here am I, Lord; send me!"
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Some scholars have suggested that this beautiful hymn is based on an old Canaanite praise song to the storm god, reworked from a monotheistic perspective. Support for this position may be found in the very first line, which calls on the "sons of God" (or "sons of the gods") to praise Yahweh. It certainly seems to have been inspired by a powerful thunderstorm, one of the most awe-inspiring events in nature. The possibility of this psalm being inspired by a hymn of praise to a different god reminds us of how much Christians have in common with followers of other religions. The common ground among various religions is too often overlooked in favor of focusing on religious differences. The fundamentalist mindset in particular, in its quixotic quest for doctrinal purity, tends to emphasize the ways in which other people differ (i.e., are wrong) from them. Not content to separate themselves from other world religions, they turn their focus on other denominations within Christianity, then on "heterodox" people within their own denominations and smaller groups. More progressive Christians must learn to see beyond the distortions of the fundamentalists, views that are often shared by society at large, and appreciate what we share with other people of faith. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, is meaningful to many Christians, conservative or liberal, but it is practically incomprehensible to those of other faiths. When we engage people from other faith traditions in dialog, then, we need to begin by recognizing the vast common ground on which we stand together. When we look at sacred texts outside the Bible, we often read words we can affirm from our own perspective.
God
there is no god but He, the Living, the Everlasting.
Slumber seizes Him not, neither sleep;
to Him belongs all that is in the heavens and the earth.
Who is there that shall intercede with Him
save by His leave?
He knows what lies before them
and what is after them,
and they comprehend not anything of his
knowledge save such as He wills.
His throne comprises the heavens and earth;
the preserving of them oppresses Him not;
He is the All-high, the All-glorious.
(Islam - Sura 2:256-257; cf. Isaiah 40:28-31)
All beings have their being in me, but I do not rest in them. See my sovereign technique: creatures both in me and not in me. Supporting beings, my person brings beings to life, without living in them. I am omnipresent as the stormwind which resides in space. All beings exist in me. Remember that. (Hinduism - Bhagavad Gita, chapter 9; cf. Acts 17:22-31)
Too strong for me is the evil of my heart. I cannot overcome it. Therefore is my soul like unto the poison of serpents; Even my righteous deeds, being mingled with this poison, Must be named the deeds of deceitfulness. Shameless though I be and having no truth in my soul, Yet the virtue of the Holy Name, the gift of Him that is enlightened, Is spread throughout the world through my words, Although I am as I am. (Buddhism - poem by Shinran; cf. Romans 7)While holding firm to our own beliefs, we would do well to recognize the good-will and faithfulness of many people of faith throughout the world. As the psalmist saw value in the faith-proclamation of his neighbors, so we too should be open to what we can learn from people of other faiths, who also "worship the Lord in holy splendor."
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When a child is learning to play the piano, her teacher will tell her that a quarter note gets one beat, a half note two beats, and she must keep a steady tempo when she plays. As she develops as a pianist, she learns that sometimes the rules she learned when she was a beginner don't apply. To play with feeling, sometimes you need to hold a quarter note a little longer. Sometimes you need to vary the tempo. Sometimes you even need to play notes that are not written on the page. When Leonard Bernstein conducted Beethoven's Ninth Symphony in Berlin in 1989, just after the fall of the Berlin wall, he changed the "sacred" text of the symphony, directing the chorus to sing "Freiheit," freedom, instead of "Freude," joy, because he felt it was more appropriate to the setting. Paul says that followers of Christ have received a spirit of adoption, not a spirit of slavery. Elsewhere, he says that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Cor 3:17). As members of God's family, we have the freedom to follow God as we feel led by the Spirit. Instead of hard and fast rules, which are appropriate only for immature believers, we have the freedom, and the responsibility, to try to discern principles for life. The fundamentalist approach to religion, whether Christian or otherwise, says that God has laid down strict rules for the faithful to follow. More open-minded religionists, however, believe that to live life faithfully it is more important to understand the nature of God than it is to memorize rules. Over the past few years, it appears that fundamentalism is on the upswing in many different religious traditions. Is the world in danger of sliding back into less enlightened times? John Shelby Spong, retired bishop of Newark, doesn't think so. "Hysterical fundamentalism is not the way into the future; it is the last gasp of the past," he says. If this is true, then we need to think about what it means to be Christians in a new, networked, postmodern world. Rules from the past won't address the situations people will face in the future. Serious people of faith must get comfortable living on the basis on principles rather than relying on sometimes outdated rules. If we truly believe that Christianity is relevant for all times, then we should not be afraid to lay aside those traditions of the past that no longer speak to people of our day and develop new traditions that are more meaningful. At the same time, we must recognize that we are not talking about creating a new religion ex nihilo. We will want to hold onto many traditions, keeping some of them more or less intact, and transforming others according to our developing understanding of God and the universe. A good example of the transformation of a religion is alluded to in the Old Testament. When the Israelites of the Northern Kingdom of Israel were conquered by the Assyrians, and their leaders were carried into exile, the distinct religious traditions of the Northern Kingdom ceased to exist. When their neighbors in the Southern Kingdom of Judah were conquered by the Babylonians 135 years later, their religion underwent a transformation, particularly among those living in exile in Babylonia. There was no more king, and sacrifices were no longer possible, so the Jews developed a religion centered on study of the Torah, prayer, and lay leadership. They adapted their religion to their situation. As we move deeper into the new millennium, Christians, too, need to remember that we are God's children, led by the Spirit of God.
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I have often told Bible study classes that I've taught, "When you read in one of the Synoptic gospels that something happened at night, it probably means that it was dark outside. When you read it in John, it's symbolic of something deeper." The gospel of John is characterized by symbolism and what the French call double entendre, "double meaning." When Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews, visits Jesus "by night," the phrase represents Nicodemus' lack of understanding (cf. John 13:30, where night represents the spiritual darkness of Judas; see also John 1:5). Jesus tells him that admittance into the kingdom of God is reserved for those who have been born anothen, which can mean either "from above" or "again." Nicodemus takes the latter meaning; Jesus focuses on the former. The new birth is not a matter of timing so much as it is a matter of relationship. Inhabitants of the kingdom of God must be born "of God." Again Jesus plays with the meanings of words, telling Nicodemus that he must be born of the water and the Spirit. Though perhaps he is alluding to baptism in a symbolic way when he speaks of water (i.e., there is no thought that the rite is a necessity for entrance into the kingdom), he is primarily referring to the physical birth of an infant ("that which is born of the flesh is flesh"). The birth from water is contrasted with the birth from the Spirit ("that which is born of the Spirit is spirit"). He then plays on the word pneuma, which can mean either "wind" or "spirit." If the doctrine of the Trinity is to continue to have meaning to Christians today, it will not be because of premodern arguments about the hypostatic union of divine and human in Christ or whether the Son is of the same nature as the Father. Instead, we will have to recognize the symbolism and the mystery that surrounds God's relationship with humanity. In this passage in John, Father, Son, and Spirit are all present, yet their relationship to one another and to humanity is far from clear. In fact, Jesus (or the evangelist) consciously plays with the meanings of words in order to convey a sense of wonder, and even uncertainty, to both Nicodemus and the reader. At the first ecumenical council, which met in Nicea shortly after Constantine's ascension to the Roman throne, church leaders discussed the nature of the divine and the human in Jesus, concluding that Jesus was homoousios (of the same nature) with the Father. The council was presided over by a bishop from Spain, Hosius of Cordova. Far from deciding the issue, however, the proclamation of the Council of Nicea served only to fan the doctrinal and political flames revolving around the person of Christ. The next several decades saw official opinion swing back and forth, as one council opposed Nicea, and the next upheld it. Finally at a meeting in Sirmium, Hosius, who was about 100 years old, attempted to end the controversy by saying that the Son was homoios (similar) to the Father, avoiding any speculation concerning the divine and human "natures" (which term is not biblical, the Council of Sirmium noted). For his attempt at compromise, Hosius was branded a traitor to the true faith, and although he was still respected (the rumor circulated that he had recanted his error on his deathbed), his "lapse" cost him the title "Saint." The controversy over the nature of Christ raged on for several centuries, dividing Christians and damaging the witness of the church. What Hosius apparently understood, and his opponents didn't, was that God cannot be defined in precise human terms. He is always a mystery. "The wind blows where it wills," Jesus says. As Christians, it is not our concern to figure out God, only to follow God.
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