An old preacher went to the hospital to visit a middle-aged man who had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He brought along a young man studying for the ministry. "How do you feel?" the old preacher asked. "I'm really mad at God!" the patient replied. "Why is he doing this to me? Doesn't he know that I have a wife and children who need me? It's not right for him to take me in the prime of life, when I've never done anything really bad. I've gone to church regularly, I've given my money to charities, and I've done my best to be a good Christian, and this is how he repays me! Well, I've decided that if God's going to treat me that way, then to hell with him! I don't need a God who would do this to me, and I don't want a God who's too weak to stop it from happening. I hate God, I hate him!" And he began to cry. The old preacher spoke a few words of comfort, offered a brief prayer, and left the sick man to himself. After they were out in the hall, the seminary student said to the preacher with astonishment, "How could you just stand there and not say anything while that man was raving? All those things he said about God just weren't right! Why didn't you set him straight?" With a look of compassion, the old preacher put his right hand on the student's shoulder. "Son," he said, "Don't you worry about God. He's a big boy; he can take care of himself." Like the young man, and Job's friends, we often feel the need to correct those who are railing against God. "No, God's not unfair! God's not capricious! God does care!" Elihu is an enigmatic character who suddenly appears at the beginning of Job chapter 32 and disappears just as suddenly at the end of chapter 37. He criticizes Job's friends for failing to answer Job's complaints, he criticizes Job for justifying himself before God, and he claims that his words are the words of God. God is not unjust, he says, for God knows everything that people do, so God's actions are always right. Elihu accuses Job of sinning against God by complaining about how God has treated him and claiming that the wicked and the righteous seem to fare equally well on earth. Job's mouth is full of empty talk, he says, and "he multiplies words without knowledge" (Job 35:16). Like Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, Elihu has an in-depth understanding of God. He believes that we live in a cause and effect universe, where people only suffer for actual transgressions. In Job's case, maybe his sin was a pride that wouldn't be revealed until he was tested in terrible ways. Elihu's understanding of God and the universe is comprehensive, it is logically consistent, and it is wrong. Though the opening words of God's soliloquy in chapter 38, "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" might have originally applied to Job, in the canonical structure of the book, they can only apply to Elihu, or at least they apply primarily to Elihu. Job presented to his friends the case that he would like to have presented before God. He accused God of being unfair in God's dealings with good and evil people. His words were at times haughty, and they were certainly critical of God (note that the word "critical" comes from a Greek root that implies judgment). It is instructive to note that God never contradicts any of Job's contentions about God's injustice or his dealings in the world. God only points out that Job doesn't have enough wisdom--nor does any human being--to judge God's actions. (In the present case, it's probably a good thing that Job didn't know about God's "deal with the devil"!) God rebukes Job for his lack of understanding, but his dismissal of the words of Elihu as "words without knowledge," without any further reference to him, suggests a greater condemnation. Elihu not only spoke without knowledge, a universal human problem, but more importantly, he presumed to speak for God. It is one thing to say to someone, "I think God would want you to do this." It's quite another to say, "God has spoken to me, and God wants you to do this." As prophetic Christians, we cannot be afraid to speak what we believe to be God's words of hope and judgment in our world. However, we must always speak such words with the humility that rightly accompanies the human condition, a condition in which even our collective wisdom pales in comparison to the infinite wisdom of God.
President Bush thinks it's a good idea. Famous primatologist Jane Goodall doesn't. The issue is a proposed change to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's policies concerning endangered species. Bush is proposing that restrictions on the import of hides, hunting trophies, and live specimens of endangered species be eased if part of the money earned goes toward conservation efforts in the country of origin. There is something truly perverse about killing endangered animals in order to preserve the species, but that is what is being proposed. According to the Fish and Wildlife Service Web site, there are 1072 endangered or threatened animal species and 749 endangered or threatened plant species, for a total of 1821 endangered or threatened species worldwide. The fact that two-thirds of these species are native to the U.S. indicates that many more worldwide are actually in danger of extinction but are not on the list. In fact, only three non-U.S. plants are on either the endangered or the threatened list. Humans over the centuries have exterminated many species of animals, either by hunting or by habitat destruction, beginning probably with woolly mammoths, woolly rhinoceroses, and cave bears, and extending into recorded history with Asiatic lions, dodos, Stellar's sea cow, the passenger pigeon, quaggas, and the thylacine (or Tasmanian tiger; interestingly, this animal is still listed on the FWS list of endangered species). Almost everyone will agree that the extinction of the tiger, of which there are only 5000 to 6000 in the wild, would be a catastrophic loss to humankind. However, some would argue that we could easily live without the Texas blind salamander and the San Marcos salamander, two amphibian species that inhabit specific streams and underground reservoirs in the Texas Hill Country. They certainly don't inspire the kind of awe that the tiger or the black rhinoceros do, but are they therefore any less important? The psalmist in Psalm 104 speaks of the glories of God's creation. "In wisdom you have made them all," he says of God's creatures. The San Marcos salamander is a work of God's wisdom, either through evolutionary processes, as I believe, or by direct creation, as others think. In either case, who are we twenty-first century humans to annihilate a species just because we have the power to do so, or because we lack the discipline or foresight to prevent it? Scientists regularly find potential cures for deadly diseases in plant, animal, and fungus species. Existing organisms provide a link to the ancient past through their DNA, allowing scientists to reconstruct the tree of life. Every species that is alive today plays a part in a balanced ecological system, and removing that species will have unpredictable consequences for other species within that ecosystem. Who knows what might be lost if the whooping crane or the leatherback sea turtle ceases to exist? In addition to the potential loss of medicines, scientific information, and ecosystem cohesion, there are also ethical and aesthetic considerations related to species genocide. The ethical question we must ask ourselves is this: what right does the species Homo sapiens have to destroy another species? From a theological perspective, we might ask ourselves, what does God's charge in Genesis 1:28 to rule over the earth imply? If God is a sustainer, not a destroyer, then we should be as well. The aesthetic question is equally important. If we were to lose the St. Lucia parrot or the blue whale or the red wolf, what beauty would be extinguished from the world forever? The psalmist draws on the creation story to remind worshipers of the creative power of God. Will the history of humans in the twenty-first century be one of creativity or of destructive power? The words of the poet William Blake from more than two centuries ago remind us of what we are in danger of losing.
Tiger, Tiger burning bright In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes! On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tiger, Tiger burning bright In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Martin Luther felt the call of God to forsake the study of law and pursue a life in an Augustinian monastery. His superiors in the order quickly recognized his potential, and before long they had Luther studying for the priesthood. Things were going well until Luther was called on to perform his first mass. When it came time to address the host, which represented to him the literal body of Christ, Luther became terrified to find himself in the presence of the divine majesty, and it was all he could do to finish the celebration. The duty of the priest is to represent the people before God in order to ensure the forgiveness of their sins. Luther was so intensely aware of his own sin and imperfection that he had an extremely difficult time playing the role of priest during the sacrifice of the mass. The author of Hebrews illustrates the nature of the priesthood by describing the role of the Jewish high priest on the Day of Atonement. Once a year, the high priest was required to present a sacrifice to God on behalf of the whole nation. The ritual is described in Leviticus 16. The high priest begins by offering a sacrifice for his own sins, in order that he might be pure before God. Then he changes into special clothes for the sacrifice of atonement for the nation. He chooses two goats, one of which (selected by casting lots) is sacrificed as a burnt offering on the altar and the other of which is led into the wilderness and released as the "scapegoat." Hebrews is concerned not so much with the rituals themselves as with the attitude of the high priest. Because the high priest is human, he says, he knows his own weaknesses, so he is able to deal gently with the sins of others. The high priesthood is an honor that one does not choose for oneself; one has to be called by God. He then goes on to present Jesus as the ideal high priest. He understood suffering, whereby he learned to be obedient to God. Having been perfected, Jesus became the source of eternal salvation to all his followers. If Jesus is the perfect high priest for all his followers, there still remains a role for ordinary Christians to represent other people before God. In fact, as Luther later realized, all Christians are called to be God's priests. Just as "Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death," so we too can call on God on behalf of others. How do we do that? Our pastors and Sunday School teachers are good at teaching us how to pray--be it the Lord's Prayer, the ACTS method, or just following the examples we observe--but they're not generally as good at teaching us how to identify those for whom we should be concerned in the first place. We pray for family members and friends, acquaintances in the hospital, and sometimes our spiritual and political leaders. That's a good start, but it's not sufficient. Maybe we pray for the poor, the homeless, the outcasts, and the refugees. Again, that's good, but to what extent do we identify with these people? Jesus was able to pray effectively for the poor because he lived among them and ministered to them. In fact, he was poor. If we have no interaction with the poor, or with the oppressed, what level of compassion can we really have for them? Part of our role as priests in God's kingdom involves getting to know the needs of God's people, getting to know the people themselves, and learning how to begin making a difference. How much more effective will our prayers be, how much more effective will our lives be, when we have seen the needs of people firsthand and we've done something to make a difference in their lives?
"One is glad to be of service," said Andrew Martin, in response to a request by his master, Sir. Andrew Martin was a robot (played by Robin Williams in the movie Bicentennial Man, based on Isaac Asimov's short story of the same name). He served faithfully in the Martin household, but he was special, and he gradually learned what it meant to be human. Throughout his two hundred year journey, though, he never abandoned his commitment to making life better for others, both humans and other robots. Mark 10:45 is the focal point of the gospel of Mark, the hinge that joins the two halves; "For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." In the first part of the gospel, Jesus serves others by preaching the good news of God's love, by casting out demons, by performing miracles of healing, by teaching the multitudes, and by feeding the hungry. In the second part of the gospel, Jesus serves others by offering himself as a ransom for the sins of the world. In contrast, his disciples James and John ask for positions of privilege, wanting to sit on either side of Jesus in the kingdom. We often strive for positions of privilege, power, or prestige throughout our lives. We're not happy unless our contributions are recognized. We seek advancement for the extra money and power that it brings. We even pursue careers not because of any true desire to do a particular kind of work but because of the kind of lifestyle that such a job will give us. Maybe that's why so many people burn out in their jobs and end up changing not only jobs but professions. The world needs doctors, lawyers, and engineers, but it also needs teachers, social workers, and chefs. We often hear about people who feel called into the ministry, but why can't someone be called to be a cabinet maker, or a researcher, or a writer? I think that people are called to serve in all these jobs, and many more, but the operative word is "serve." Regardless of the profession we choose, whether we work at home or in an office, we are called to follow Jesus' example and serve others. In these days of movie stars, sports heroes, and celebrities of other sorts, the call to be famous is a temptation for many. In our capitalistic society, the lure of riches tempts others. In times like these, it is important to keep our focus on the example set by Jesus, an example of service and sacrifice for others.