1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21a
Say to my red Choctaw children, and my Chickasaw children to listen. . . . Say to the chiefs and warriors that I am their friend, that I wish to act as their friend but they must, by removing from the limits of the States of Mississippi and Alabama and by being settled on the lands I offer them, put it in my power to be such--There, beyond the limits of any State, in possession of land of their own, which they shall possess as long as Grass grows or water runs. I am and will protect them and be their friend and father.So said President Andrew Jackson to the Native Americans who remained in the states of Mississippi and Alabama in 1830, when the Indian Removal Act was passed by Congress and signed into law by Jackson. The white settlers coveted the Indians' land, and they would stop at nothing to take it. The Indian Removal Act led to the infamous Trail of Tears, a journey on which thousands of Indians died on the forced march to the West. This story has been repeated with different actors and under different circumstances from time immemorial: the rich and strong covet what belongs to the poor and weak, and they take it by force or chicanery. Ahab was king of Israel, the richest, most powerful man in the country, yet he wanted something he wasn't legally entitled to, Naboth's vineyard. While he was pouting over his inability to obtain the land, he mentioned his problem to his wife, Jezebel, who told him she would take care of the problem. She bribed local officials to trump up charges against Naboth, who was subsequently convicted and executed, and Ahab took possession of his vineyard. And that's the end of the story, right? Well, not quite. The Lord sent a message to the prophet Elijah saying, "Say to Ahab: Have you killed and taken possession? Thus says the Lord: In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood." Even when the law seems to protect the oppressor, God is always on the side of the oppressed, and those who participate in oppression, or who benefit by it without speaking out (as Ahab did, according to the story, since Jezebel devised and carried out the plan), are subject to God's judgment. The story of Naboth's vineyard is repeated constantly in today's world: large media conglomerates run small newspapers and independent radio and television stations out of business, then get Congress to legalize their greed with 39% ownership rules; Walt Disney is worried that its exclusive marketing rights to Mickey Mouse will pass into the public domain after 75 years, so it coerces its friends in Congress to pass the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which effectively extends copyrights indefinitely, hurting many small businesses, as well as educational institutions and public service organizations; Wal-Mart and other corporate giants move into small towns, forcing small, family-owned businesses to shut down; multinational corporations preach the glories of globalization while simultaneously exploiting workers and polluting the environment. And the list goes on. Lest those of us who consider ourselves progressive thinkers get too smug, we need to remember that if we benefit from oppression--regardless of whether we were directly involved in it--and don't speak out, we are siding with the oppressors against the oppressed, lining up in opposition to God. Some of these issues are blatantly obvious, and others are more complicated. Nevertheless, it is our duty as progressive Christians to do our best to identify oppression wherever it appears and work to stop it in the name of the God of Naboth.
One of the problems I have with the notion of biblical inerrancy is that the Bible sometimes portrays God in ways that seem to reflect human weakness rather than divine perfection. The psalmist says in verse 5 that God hates all evildoers. I have two problems with that. First, if God hates all evildoers, then God hates everyone alive, including me, because we all do evil from time to time. Second, because I read the whole Bible through the lens of my understanding of Jesus Christ, I don't believe that God hates anyone. I think that the psalmist has let his own hatred for his enemies cloud his picture of God, and he has committed an error common to many people over the years, from a variety of religious backgrounds. He has assumed that his enemies are also God's enemies. I do believe that God hates evil (if not evildoers) and opposes those who do evil. The problem is that evil is so widespread, and human beings are so blinded by our own prejudices and desires, that we see the evil in other people without recognizing our own evil tendencies and deeds. That was one of the theological difficulties with President Bush's "Axis of Evil" reference in the State of the Union address a couple of years ago. He identified Iran, Iraq, and North Korea as an Axis of Evil, an obvious reference to the Axis powers during World War II. Granted that Saddam Hussein, for example, committed acts of atrocity against his own people and against his neighbors, can we seriously argue that the United States, for example, has committed fewer atrocities? Virtual extermination of the Indians and theft of their land and money; slavery and lynchings and racial discrimination; illegal interment of Japanese Americans during World War II; the slaughter of between one and four million Vietnamese, Cambodians, and Laotians; support of right-wing dictatorships in Latin America and the subsequent murder and oppression of millions; dropping not one but two nuclear bombs on civilian targets in Japan--were Saddam Hussein's acts of cruelty worse than our own? Yes, we need to be about the business of eliminating evil in the world, but we need to begin with a careful examination of our own government and culture. With the psalmist, let us ask God to lead us in the ways of righteousness. But instead of asking God to exterminate our enemies, let us pray for their conversion--and let us pray for our own conversion as well.
What does it mean to be crucified with Christ? Dietrich Bonhoeffer, alluding to Christ's call to his disciples to take up their cross and follow him, said, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." Bonhoeffer's book from which this quote is taken is called in English The Cost of Discipleship, but in German the title is simply Nachfolge, Discipleship. The English word "discipleship" comes from the same root as the word "discipline," so the ideas of training, rigor, and effort come to mind when we think of discipleship. These are certainly important facets of discipleship, but they are only secondary. The primary meaning of the term is more closely related to the German word, which literally means "to follow after." In this day and age we cannot literally follow Christ to the cross (fortunately for all of us!), but we can follow him in other ways. Paul says that no one is justified by works, because we all fall short of the full requirements of the law. The only justification, then, is through faith. For Paul, the Christian life is characteristically a life of faith. Although right and wrong still exist, there are no hard and fast rules by which Christians must live. Whenever Christianity degenerates into a religion of rules and regulations--whether the Roman Catholic church of the period of the Inquisition, or the Puritan church in New England during the colonial period, or the establishment churches during the Apartheid period in South Africa--people suffer and the gospel is suppressed. Fundamentalists today are afraid of the New Testament concept of freedom that Paul proclaims, fearing that people will pervert liberty into libertinism. True, that's a danger, but without the opportunity to take freedom to an extreme, there is no true freedom. Being crucified with Christ means following Christ freely, acting with an open heart and an open mind, seeking to do God's will, whatever the cost.
In the eighth circle of Hell, according to Dante's Inferno, in the sixth "pouch," reside the Hypocrites, all those who feigned righteousness but were inwardly wicked. They are doomed to spend eternity walking in circles while wearing cloaks that are dazzling gold on the outside but lined with burdensome lead on the inside. Thinking oneself better than others, which is a form of hypocrisy, is a sin that is a constant temptation to followers of God throughout the ages. Jesus tells a parable about two debtors whose debts have been forgiven. The one with the greater debt is understandably the more grateful of the two. One point of this story is that those who have been forgiven a great debt feel a great deal of thanks to God. Another point is that those who recognize the depths of their sin are more honest than those who think their sins are relatively minor and insignificant; consequently, the former, when they are forgiven, will be more in tune with God than those who think they have little or no sin. The incident in the house of Simon is a story of redemption and refusal. The woman who washes Jesus' feet with her tears recognizes her abject depravity and her need for God's salvation, and as a result, she has her sins forgiven. The Pharisee, on the other hand, believes himself more or less free from sin, so he neither seeks nor receives forgiveness. Do we see ourselves like the woman or like Simon the Pharisee? Are we so aware of our sins and failures that we recognize our inability to save ourselves, turning to God in desperation and complete contrition? Or do we minimize our sins, calling them "mistakes" or "faux pas," overlooking their consequences on ourselves and others, thereby fooling ourselves into thinking that we have no need of God's forgiveness? I don't believe that the woman was a greater sinner than Simon, she was just better at recognizing her sin, and she was more honest about admitting it. As the psalmist says in Psalm 51, our sins are always before God--we can't hide them. We are all sinners in need of forgiveness and redemption. The good news is that God stands ready to forgive us if we will only ask.