Searching for God – Yossi Halevi’s journey rings true to me…

The road to peace begins with understanding, and no one knows that better than Yossi Halevi.  In his stunningly beautiful book, At the Entrance to the Garden of Eden, Halevi writes about his remarkable two-year journey toward “religious empathy”.  As a fellow seeker of religious understanding, I envied his journey, and found myself comparing many of my own interfaith encounters with his. Although clearly the two journeys cannot be compared in scope, there are several emotional similarities that I could not help but notice.

First, there is that deep need to search for something larger than not only yourself, but also the religious microcosm to which you’ve become accustomed. Second, there is the pain and confusion that often accompanies such a journey (including the uneasy feeling at times of betraying not only your chosen faith, but the friends and family who are a part of your inner circle.) Finally, there are the deep feelings of both joy and sadness when dialoguing with other faith groups. Joy at moments of unity and inclusion, and sadness at times of suspicion and prejudice. It can make for quite an emotional experience. 

 

People who have never taken up a truly spiritual search for answers, cannot understand the desperation and pain of looking for something that may not exist. I felt this desperation in my continual quest to find a new church.   Halevi discovered this need not only in himself as an Israeli Jew, but also in many Christian clerics who he met on his journey.

For example, on his talks with Germa – an Ethiopian Monastic, Halevi writes, “He longed for the company of saints, but they were no longer accessible, and those remaining in the monasteries, he insisted, were either charlatans or fanatics or well-meaning but ordinary men.  He carried the sadness of someone who had not only seen the end of an era but had himself participated in its destruction; the very nature of his job, after all, was to help the monks adapt to modernity. Yet the outside world, oblivious to the possibility of holiness couldn’t be fully home for Germa either. More than his physical exile, this was the real source of his dislocation: He craved a holiness he feared he could never possess.”

 

Halevi then speaks to an Armenian priest about his own search. “I told Father Enza that I was on a search for holiness among the Christians, and he laughed. ‘I’m no holy man and I don’t know any holy men in the Armenian Church.’  As if to say: Why do you expect to find among us any greater miracle than survival?”
    

Frustrated in not being able to find answers from these Monastics, his friend Yehezkel Landau suggested he see someone special. “ ‘Go to Lavara Natofa’” said Landau. It’s run by Father Yaakov Willebrands. He’s one of the few Christians living here who manages to keep his heart open to both Arabs and Jews without taking sides. And he’s got this wonderful church in a grotto he dug out himself. It’s a great place to meditate.’ ‘Besides,’ added Yehezkel, ‘he may be a saint.’” 

 

 Indeed, Father Willebrands was one of those rare souls who acknowledged and appreciated the diverse faith groups in the holy land.  Halevi asks Father Willebrands many questions – including the controversial assertion in the Christian gospels that Jesus is the only path to God. Speaking personally, this is the most troubling passage for me in the Christian bible. I can’t imagine a God who would create a whole world of people, and yet only allow a small group of them into his kingdom. So I was glad when the Monastic answered Halevi’s question.

 

 Father Willebrand said, “There are Muslims in the village. I can tell them to become Christian and they would.  But, what then?  They would become totally cut off from their families and their villages, and in Arab society, that means you are lost.  Is God to just abandon them? And can Jews accept Christ after all that has happened in history?  Are they not to be admitted to the kingdom?  The God of love doesn’t work that way. So he creates other ways to approach the kingdom.”

 

Father Willebrand was right on target as to religion potentially cutting one off from family and friends.  As I mentioned in my introduction, there is still a lot of pain and guilt associated with spending so much time with people of other faiths. For every person who supports the notion of peace and understanding between religious cultures, there are many more who fear or loathe the idea. Other people’s negative reactions to interfaith relations – be they of one’s same faith or different faiths, cannot only be puzzling, but painful. Strikingly, although people of different faiths clearly regard each other with suspicion, it is often the brothers and sisters of one’s own faith who seem most threatened.  Perhaps there is a fear that by reaching out and sharing with other faith communities, you are betraying your own faith community. You may be viewed as vulnerable to recruitment or conversion.  Such feelings of betrayal can be very damaging and lead to a great deal of guilt. 

 

This idea of betraying one’s heritage often starts at home. It is from our parents that many of us receive our faith, and it can be very difficult to break out of that mold without a sense of guilt. Halevi first addresses this notion of parental influence in his book.  He writes, “My upbringing hardly prepared me for the interfaith encounter. I was raised in the heartland of Jewish Isolationism, a Brooklyn neighborhood called Borough Park, populated mostly by orthodox Holocaust Survivors. My father, a survivor from Hungary, taught me that the non-Jewish world was divided between those who actively wanted to kill the Jews, and those who were indifferent to our fate.  My father reserved a special rage for Christianity which he blamed for preparing the ground of the Holocaust by demonizing the Jews…Religious custom forbid Jews from entering a church.”  I have no doubt that during some of those times he spent with Christians and Muslims, Halevi found his thoughts wander back to his father and wonder about that betrayal.

 

Clearly my own family’s background can’t be compared to those of Holocaust survivors. However, the sideways glances toward other religious institutions other than the Catholic Church was very prominent in my upbringing. As Catholics, we were not allowed to attend worship services at Protestant churches (or that of any other denomination.)  Receiving communion in non-Catholic churches would also be considered a sin. Eventually, the rules on visiting other churches were relaxed somewhat by the Vatican, but these churches were still not viewed the same as “the one true church”. Often, non-Catholic churches were viewed as blasphemous and possibly corruptive. 

 I was 20 years old when I first attended a Protestant service. And, like Halevi, I attended the church to accompany my future spouse.  Ironically, my husband – a Southern Baptist, was brought up to believe that Catholicism was almost cult-like. His parents were no more thrilled about his being in Catholic churches, than were mine at “straying” from the Catholic Church.

 

This concern for betraying one’s faith circle extends beyond family though. It encompasses friends, neighbors and colleagues.  In one particularly poignant part of his book, Halevi confides these fears to a nun he’s been spending time with: “‘Gabrielle’, I said, ‘I’m afraid’.  We were sitting, as usual, in the Beatitude’s library. ‘Can you imagine the reaction,’ I continued, ‘when my friends and relatives in the Orthodox community find out I’ve been going to monasteries? Do you know how that’s going to play in my old Brooklyn neighborhood? A Jew entering churches to experience Christmas and Easter.  There’s nothing worse than that. I’m about to become a Jewish traitor.’  Gabrielle said quietly, ‘I’m afraid too.’ ‘You’, I said, unable to hide my surprise.  The nun who prayed in Hasidic synagogues, who offered herself as a sacrifice to reconciliation? ‘I’m afraid of being considered too different,’ she confessed. ‘Even within my own community. Of course people there share my love for the Jewish people, but I worry that they’ll see me as an obsessive.’”

 

I know all too well the price one pays for going out on a limb when speaking of faith. When I first entered Seminary, I was talking to a very close friend about the Muslim view on Jesus being a great prophet, and how they don’t believe he was crucified. I told her I wasn’t even sure anymore if Jesus was the Son of God.  Her reaction? She never spoke to me again.

 

Halevi was not just being paranoid. From the very beginning of his journey, he too encountered resistance from both Israeli friends and Christian friends.  His Israeli friends, (even those who are active in promoting dialogue with Palestinians), said he was wasting time.  A Christian friend also dissuaded him, saying, “Maybe you should concentrate on Christian-Jewish relations. There is so much that we have to do together, why confuse it by bringing in another religion.”

 

Interestingly enough, there is more to this comment than appears on its surface. It is representative of another fascinating aspect of Halevi’s journey – the concern by others to not only keep him grounded to one faith community, but rather to keep him away from other specific faith communities. There were times throughout his adventure (as indicated above,) that religious figures/clerics would attempt to closely ally with him, by pointing out the shortcomings of other religions.  For example, Halevi writes about his visit with a Muslim Sheykh for whom he had great respect. In their discussions, the Sheykh said, “Jews and Muslims are closer to each other than to Christians.  We both have religious laws; the Christians don’t. We have fast days; they don’t. We forbid the use of images; they pray to images.  We believe in one God; they have three Gods.” 

To his credit, Halevi attempted to clarify some of these claims about his Christian brothers and sisters. He explained to the Sheykh that Christian images are used to “encourage devotion”, and although Trinitarian, Christians are indeed monotheistic.  But Halevi also admitted that he was pleased at the Sheykh’s “linkage” of Judaism and Islam, even if Christianity was excluded.

 

In a more disturbing passage (disturbing for me because the offender was a Catholic nun), disparaging remarks are made about Muslims in front of Halevi. It is a Christian crowd that includes Halevi, but the remark was made offhand – as if everyone would naturally agree.

He writes, “We walked the steep hills toward Manger Square…the muezzin sounded with the first light, rousing the day.  Gabrielle said, ‘He’s especially loud now. He wants to remind us on Christmas who really controls Bethlehem.’  She was probably right. Muslim extremists often used to the call to prayer to intimidate Christians and Jews, just as Muslims had built minaret that deliberately towered over Jewish and Christian holy places.” Halevi acknowledges that there may be something to the notion of reminding ‘people of the book’ that the ‘people of the final revelation’ are all around.  Another nun goes too far however, and Halevi is stunned. He writes, “ ‘I wouldn’t want to be Muslim,’ added a nun. ‘To have someone shouting at me in my sleep.’ Her friends laughed.  ‘It’s Ramadan I said. The first call to prayer is also a signal to begin the day’s fast.’ ‘They eat at night’, the nun replied shrugging, ‘I’m sure there are those who do it sincerely…’ But if so, she clearly implied, they were wasting their devotions in a false, even absurd faith. 

 

So just as the Muslim Sheykh had tried to bolster a Jewish/Muslim alliance at the expense of Christians, the Sister was now trying to promote a Jewish/Christian alliance through the exclusion/aspersion of Muslims. This point was not lost on Halevi.  “Listening to the nun disparage Islam, I realized why I couldn’t fully accept Gabrielle’s offer of a Christian-Jewish alliance of messianic expectation. That would allow Jews and Christians to pretend to evade the hubris of chosenness: If neither of us could be chosen alone, we would be chosen together.  The two biblical faiths, exalted above all others: the Muslims with their distorted scripture, the Hindus with too many gods, the Buddhists with no god at all. Jews and Christians would learn to deal with each other through love rather than theology as Grabielle had beautifully put it during one of our sessions.  But that wouldn’t apply to our relations with other faiths.”

 

The Nuns however, were not immune to the same kind of disparagement.  Halevi tells of the Christians being shunned by many Jews – particularly during times of remembrance for Holocaust victims.  Then came another instance of allying two religious groups against one – only this time it was the Christians who fell short. Halevi writes, “ Johanna was upset.  She’d just read a commentary by a French rabbi about the biblical concept of the place of ‘strangers’ in the land of Israel.  For non-Jews to be worthy of living in the Holy Land, wrote the rabbi, they must observe the seven Noahide laws, the basic biblical moral code. Muslims he continued, fully adhere to the Noahide laws because, he pointedly noted, they don’t place statues – idols-in their houses of worship.  Clearly, he was excluding Christians from the category of Noahide observers. ‘We defile the land’ Johanna said bitterly.”  Halevi explained to Johanna that the thought process came from a time when Jews had been persecuted by Christians. He said that there were Rabbis throughout history who disagreed with that thinking, but those rabbinic voices were a minority.

 

It can be even more difficult for those steeped in two faith traditions. Instead of being admired by both faith communities, there is often mistrust and rejection.  Halevi’s friend Eliyahu encountered this first hand. Eliyahu converted to Islam but then became a practicing Jew who lived in an Arab village and worked to bring Jewish and Arab youth together. “But outraged fundamentalists forced him to leave the village. He had accepted an invitation from local Muslims and joined a parade celebrating Id el Fitr the end of Ramadan.  Participating in a Muslim feast by an Orthodox Jew was not seen as respect, but as subversion.”

 

Finally, because of the dynamics of Palestinian Christians, Palestinian Muslims, and Jews all living in the land of Israel, some people don’t fit easily into any category.

“Sister Miriam said, ‘We don’t fit in anywhere. For Jews, we’re missionaries; for Muslims, we’re Zionists. A Palestinian Christian accused me of not being sensitive to his people’s suffering.  I know I should be open to everyone in equal measure, but I can’t do it.  I stand with the Jewish people. Sometimes I say to God, ‘why do you expect me to be an instrument of peace?’ And the answer I sense is ‘your suffering over your failures is what I need.’’”

 

For me as an American Christian, I know that my perspective on the three Abrahamic faiths is far removed from that of Christians in the Middle East. I am not in the religious minority here (although my particular thoughts on who Jesus was and what it is that makes me a Christian probably puts me very much in the minority.) I do not fear Jews or Muslims or feel that I need to take a side in their disputes.  I believe the Israelis have a right to hold on to their state, but I also believe the Palestinians are living in horrid conditions, and should be allowed their own state to co-exist with Israel.

 

Halevi has his own perspective on Christianity in Israel “In the Holy Land, Christian love was often selective.  Foreign Christians living here tended to embrace either the Jewish or the Palestinian narrative.  Each appealed to a different facet of the Christian soul: the prophetic fulfillment of Jewish homecoming, the Palestinian struggle for justice in the land of Jesus.  Well-meaning but one-dimensional outsiders became either Christian Zionists who despised the Palestinians and tended to see Islam as a satanic opponent of God’s plan for Israel, or else Christian liberationists whose “anti-Zionism merely updated the old theological contempt for Jews as enemies of the good. It was perhaps inevitable for Jews and Arabs to turn their life and death struggle into a passion play; for spectators similarly to trivialize on of the world’s most morally ambiguous conflicts meant squandering an opportunity for a neutral loving presence.”

 

I don’t know that Halevi found everything he was searching for. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t. But as I mentioned earlier, peace comes through understanding. Through his remarkable courage, empathy and beautiful sense of spirit, he was able to transport himself in and out of the depths of the Abrahamic religions, and then put his experiences into words for those of us still engaged in that desperate search for answers. I will never be able to live those experiences as he did, but I can learn from them, try to understand them, and hopefully become a real instrument for God’s peace.

 

In everything that Halevi wrote, one thing he wrote about Judaism – his own religion – was so poignant to me, that it literally changed my outlook on Christianity, and whether or not I should stay with the only religion I have ever known.  He said, “My eventual decision to return to Jewish observance wasn’t inspired by any sudden realization that Judaism was the “true” faith after all; Judaism simply was my language of intimacy with God.” 

Thanks to Halevi, I no longer feel conflicted about being a pluralist and a Christian – I can be both, (and still continue my search.) In the meantime, I’ve come to learn that Christianity is no longer the religion that dictates my belief system, but rather is MY language of intimacy with God.  What a beautiful sentiment.

Forgiveness

 

            Forgiveness.  Throughout many of my seminary readings – particularly Muller-Fahrenholz’s The Art of Forgiveness, this was the dominant theme.  Confession, reconciliation, and “re-membering” – all tools used to foster forgiveness. Avoiding the “spiral of revenge”, admitting our guilt, and seeking mediation – also critical in achieving forgiveness.  As I read through all of these wonderful ideas, took notes and pondered the issues of healing and peace in Israel, I kept thinking, “why can’t they just move forward?”  “Why can’t the Israelis and Palestinians agree to co-exist?”  “Instead of all the killing and anger and vitriol, use the tools and get the help and mediation. It’s been so long!” Over and over as I read of the struggles, I thought, “Why don’t they just make peace? Why can’t they forgive? I just don’t get it.”  Then I thought about Rick.

            Rick was the Pastor at the church we attended for eight years.  He was our pastor, our friend and confidante. Our families were friends and we all spent a good deal of time together over the years.  Rick was an inspiration – a man who could preach the word of God like none I had heard before. I knew I could learn from him – even though he was four years younger. How wonderful to be friends with someone who could teach me all the things I didn’t understand about God.  I absolutely loved him – as pastor and friend.

            I got very involved in church committees and worked hard. I enjoyed working with Rick and helping the ministry of the church. My husband too was involved and we were happy there.  All was well – until the day I challenged Rick.  He came back at me with such anger and condescension that I was floored. I couldn’t go to church for months. Finally I called him and we met for coffee and talked it through. We empathized with one another, “re-membered”, and expressed joy in reconciliation.  All was well – until I challenged him again. Or disagreed with him. Sometimes I would placate him to maintain a good relationship. Other times we’d battle. Each time I would be worn down and worried about our friendship.  At times the struggle was about whatever issue was at hand – other times it was just about the battle itself.  I couldn’t take it anymore. He suggested we get a mutual minister friend to mediate our differences. Looking back, I can’t believe how far it had gone.

            Our mediation session went so well. It had such an air of honesty. There was confession, clarification, admission of mutual guilt and even the “glow” of reconciliation and newness that we read about.  After two years, it was wonderful to be in right relationship (as Rick called it) again.  Then my Dad got sick – very sick. I went to Rick, and told him I wanted to trust him as Pastor to help me through, and that I just needed that reassurance from him that all was still going to be okay as we had “glowingly” discussed. His response was that if I had any question as to his pastoral ability, that I should report him to the Regional UCC Association.  I was stunned and devastated. I was also done trying.  The next day, my husband told Rick we were leaving the church, that he needed help as a person and pastor, and that he needed to learn to respect women. Rick was devastated and hugged my husband – crying – as my husband left. 

            I called Rick from the hospital the day of Dad’s surgery. I said I couldn’t face whatever would happen with a sense of resentment in the air. He said he had no ill will and never did. I said it was me that needed to forgive him – so that I could move forward.  As my dad lay in surgery, Rick tried to engage me in a conversation about why we were leaving the church, and how he didn’t understand.  I was done debating, and said it really wasn’t something we should get into. He then accused me of really just calling him in order to keep myself busy.  I ended the call politely. We never spoke again.

            It took me months to realize it, but I lied to Rick that day. I didn’t forgive him. I haven’t forgiven him yet. In truth, I hate him. It is a horrible, un-Godly, un-Christian, un-Seminarian, un-peacemaker (you name it), thing to say – but it is true.  For two years he used me, and my family when he needed something.  He’d asked me to lie for him, and I did. He wanted me to take on a project, I did.  He crossed every line and boundary of pastor and friend and then denied any wrongdoing. The final blow was when I found out he had violated our pastor/parishioner confidence several times to different people on several issues. The final betrayal. I step back now and I see the manipulation and I understand how some of it happened. I also accept responsibility for participating.  But I have not forgiven.

It’s been almost five years since I’ve gone to a church – I don’t know if I will ever attend one again. I cringe when I hear someone say that they are a minister.  What did Gopin say in his readings about avoiding Palestinians? I avoid pastors.   I have no confidence or trust in clergy of any kind. Admitting my guilt? Did it. Reconciliation? Did it. Loved it. Didn’t last. Mediation? Great idea. Didn’t work.  Forgiveness?  Not this time. I tried that already, and the scars are too deep.  I will never forgive Rick. 

In the beginning of this piece I talked – almost condescendingly – of how easy it would be if everyone just put aside his or her differences. Jews and Palestinians – people of other warring nations.  Then I remembered Rick and realized my hypocrisy. My little 2-year battle with my pastor is a grain of sand compared to the years of hatred, enmity, mistrust and bitterness endured by both Jews and Palestinians.  I can’t even begin to understand their pain.  I probably never will.  As to their inability – their lack of willingness even – to try and forgive?

I get it.

Conflict, Religion and Peacemaking

I was very struck by an account I read of bloodshed in Northern Ireland and how it harkens back to the ongoing battles in the Middle East.  I confess to only knowing the basic details of Ireland – Catholics vs. Protestants, IRA Provisionals and Sinn Fein vs. Orange Men, – as well as the involvement of the British government.  In reading the details laid out by Scott Appleby in his book Ambivalence of the Sacred, I couldn’t help but note the differences in the two conflicts.     

            The battle between the Palestinians and Israelis has, on the surface, always been about one main thing – land. Holy land.  Israelis fight to protect their state as well as maintain control of the holy city of Jerusalem.  Palestinians want their own separate state – under Palestinian rule – on land now occupied by Israel.  They also want control of Jerusalem, and many are still fighting for the right of return. In Northern Ireland, it was Catholic citizens fighting against control by the Protestant led government.  Political claims intertwined with religious claims.

In looking at these two struggles, one can see the power of religious differences on the face of each conflict. In the Middle East it’s the Qu’ran vs. the Torah, and the holy site of the Mosque vs. the holy site of the ancient temple.    In Northern Ireland it’s the Catholics vs. the Protestants.  And although both are Christian, they are very different in both faith practices and church doctrine.

As I continued to read Appleby’s analysis though, I finally began to see one strong similarity in the two conflicts. Both are fought in the name of religion, when in reality, they are social and economic struggles wrapped in religious rhetoric. They are wars rooted in oppression.  The Palestinians have been living in squalor for years with no hope for the future.  The Catholics in Northern Ireland were socially and economically oppressed by the political control of the Protestant government.  Oppression fuels the hatred, and religion is the flag under which the violence occurs.  The oppression and religious fervor combined make for an inevitable explosion of violence.

Thankfully there has been some progress.  The cease-fire in Ireland and the attempts to curtail oppression have greatly improved the situation.  Generations of hatred still remain, but the oppression has eased, and so hopefully will the anger.  As far as the Middle East conflict, the pullout of the Israelis from Gaza is a start in the peace process, but the oppression remains.  Without improvement in the quality of life for Palestinians, the hatred will continue to boil.  Iran has now tapped into that hatred and is calling for the destruction of Israel.   The focus must be on improving the situation for the Palestinians – not just giving back some land, or the bloodshed will continue (egged on by other countries who want to see Israel destroyed.)

As I was reflecting on the sadness in these “far away” lands, a frightening thought occurred to me.  Isn’t our country just one or two “wrong turns” from entering the same type of struggle?  There is so much oppression here – racial, economic and social.  Underlying resentments and hatred are “ripe for the picking” by extremist groups.   We’ve already seen the continuation of “Christian” white supremacy groups, who tap into the uneducated and often poor white communities to give their young men something to rally around.  There are the Nation of Islam leaders such as Louis Farrakhan who tap into the enormous oppression of poor African Americans by spreading lies and rhetoric of the evil of whites (for instance saying that whites blew up the levees in New Orleans in order to drown blacks).  And of course there are already the internal Christian struggles.  There are the charismatic leaders who go into small town churches (and even some larger churches) and preach hatred of gays.  The hate increases, and so does the persecution of gays.  Look what’s happened in the Episcopal Church. There are those who fervently support openly gay Bishop Gene Robinson, and others who are furious that a gay man could be ordained a bishop.  There have been angry anti-gay demonstrations, and individual Episcopal churches have begun to pull out from the main body in protest. 

With all of these hate fueled groups continuing to be urged on (particularly by those in positions of religious leadership), is it that far out of the realm of possibility for someone to plant a pipe bomb or take a shot?  One would hope that in the modern day United States, such a violent conflict is unlikely.  Then again – as we’ve seen throughout history across the globe – when any type of hatred is wrapped in the blanket of religious doctrine, violence isn’t too far behind.  

Israel – Divinely Given Birthright?

 

“The Lord said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, ‘Raise your eyes and look out from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west. For I give all the land that you see to you and your offspring forever’.” (Torah, Genesis 13.14-15)  Generations later, the Lord honored that promise when he led Moses and the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. “I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians and to bring them out of the land to a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey, the region of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, Hivites and the Jesubites.” (Torah, Exodus 3.8)

     This ancient Hebrew scripture is (among others) the very foundation of Jewish claim to the land of Israel. This claim has also led to centuries of argument, struggle and tremendous bloodshed in that region of the world.  In light of that bloodshed – which continues today, it is my belief that Israel must look beyond the land itself, and find a way to incorporate other aspects of scripture into their life as a nation – in particular God’s command to love  (treat humanely) one’s neighbor. This does not disallow the right of the Jews to live in their homeland, but rather allows for the possibility for others to have a home there as well.  I do not take lightly the responsibility for peace on the part of the Palestinians, but I believe the onus is on the Israelis since they occupy the land.

     I cannot make this assertion however, without first attempting to explore the evolution of the Jewish claim to Israel – from its history, to modern interpretation, to the problems associated with the claim itself, (e.g., historical inaccuracies). I want to recognize the complexities of the issue, and touch on the catastrophic consequences that have resulted from such literal interpretation of the scripture – consequences that in and of themselves, lead me to conclude that Israel must re-evaluate its sole claim to the land if peace is to be achieved. 

     Theologians, biblical scholars, and religious leaders of all faiths have been dissecting and analyzing the holy scriptures of the Torah and Christian Old Testament for centuries.  The scripture itself clearly states that God made an everlasting covenant with Abram (later changed to Abraham). God – for his part of the covenant – promised Abraham the land occupied by the Canaanites, and directed that he and his descendants claim this land as their own. Circumcision and strict adherence to the Noahide laws were man’s part of the bargain. 

    These directives by God are visited over and over throughout Jewish scripture – from Genesis, to Exodus, through Deuteronomy and beyond. Each time, God makes clear that the Jews are to lay claim to the land – even if it means the eventual dispossession of the gentiles there. Deuteronomy 12.29 in the Torah reads, “When the Lord your God has cut down before you the nations that you are about to enter and dispossess, and you have dispossessed them and settled in their lands, beware of being lured into their ways after they have been wiped out before you.”

     But is the scripture historically accurate? Although it is true that the Torah is consistent on the notion of a covenant, the words of God with regard to that covenant and what He is trying to accomplish are not always consistent.

In her book A History of God, Karen Armstrong looks at these inconsistencies, and the possible reasons behind them. Armstrong says, “When the Israelites recounted the story of the Exodus, they were not as interested in historical accuracy as we would be today.  Instead they wanted to bring out the significance of the original event, whatever that may have been.”

     Armstrong indicates that some scholars believe the Exodus to be just a myth, although with a real peasant revolt somewhere behind it. Armstrong also looks at Deuteronomy as another possible myth – one to further the notion of chosenness or “election” of the Jewish people. This concept of chosenness in her opinion was a natural progression from the book of Exodus – where Moses and his people were sent to the Promised Land, ambivalent to the plight of the existing Canaanite population, and directed to eradicate all other religions being practiced in Canaan.  Finally, Armstrong explores the notion that the reformers rewrote history, and that later historical books (Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings) were written with the idea of God creating a “Holy war of extermination in Canaan.”  Through Armstrong, we see that the God of Genesis establishes a type of father/son covenant between Abraham and his scion. But as the covenant continues through Exodus, God is now an angry and violent God who tortures and kills the Egyptian people.

     Let’s look at this notion of God slaying the Egyptians for a moment – because it contradicts everything God promised to Abraham.  Let’s remember that the Egyptians are descendants of Abraham’s other son Ishmael, who was born of an Egyptian mother. Ishmael, a circumcised boy, was also deemed by God to be blessed, and a forbearer of great nations like his brother Isaac.  Genesis 17.18 of the Torah finds Abraham pleading for blessings on his son Ishmael. “O that Ishmael might live by Your favor!” God replies in Genesis 17.20, “As for Ishmael, I have heeded you. I hereby bless him. I will make him fertile and exceedingly numerous. He shall be the father of twelve chieftains, and I will make of him a great nation.” If God truly did kill the Egyptians, he reneged on his promise to Abraham. Consider further then, that the scion of Ishmael – as descendants of Abraham – might be entitled to at least share in the land.

     Returning to scripture now, we see that the violence gets worse as the books of Torah move forward from Exodus.  The God of Deuteronomy has now become director of a total “dispossession” and destruction of all peoples (other than the chosen people) living in the area of Canaan. 

The question must be asked then – is it history that is inconsistent? Or is it God?  I would tend to give God the edge in such an argument. Perhaps the focus then, should be on what people believe to be the truth – and what the implication of those perceived truths has on the state of Israel. Rabbi Joseph Teluskin in his book Jewish Literacy discusses that although Jews are sometimes uncomfortable with the notion of chosenness, it is still the Jews who have spread the word of God throughout the world. He quotes Rabbi Louis Jacobs to back up this assertion. Jacobs said, “We are not discussing a dogma incapable of verification, but the recognition of sober historical fact. The world owes to Israel the idea of one God of righteousness and holiness. This is how God became known to mankind.”

     Now clearly the Rabbis, in using the term “historical fact”, see the scriptures as absolute truths. (Again, if we are to take the Torah literally, shouldn’t the descendents of Ishmael also have a right to live on the land promised to Abraham?) But the Rabbis are not alone in the belief that Judaism spread the notion of one God. Keith Ward in his book, A Case For Religion, writes, “Ethical Monotheism can be said to have its origin with the ancient Hebrews and their conviction that God has chosen a specific people, the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to enter into an especially intimate relationship – a covenant with God.” Professor Ward also stated in a lecture at Hartford Seminary (June, 2004), that he does believe God has a covenant with the Jewish people, and that they will endure as a result of that covenant. 

It must be noted however, that Professor Ward is at the same time concerned with the problems on limiting one’s focus to Israel’s covenant. In his book God: A Guide For the Perplexed, Ward says, “Human history is an arena of judgment on sin and salvation from evil, which is to be brought about through Israel. Yet, this conception is still limited. It is centered on the destiny of Israel, and it leaves God’s choice of Israel and any greater purposes for the world largely unexplored.”

     So we’ve seen what the scripture says, and the assertions that scripture gives credence to a covenantal relationship with God. But we’ve also discussed the situation regarding Ishmael, which in and of itself reflects the problems of focusing on one promise by God and ignoring another. It greatly limits the possibilities for the rest of the world to have a relationship with God.

     History has also shown that Judaism progressed (or regressed?) from focusing on the importance of their own relationship with God, to focusing on the land to which he brought them. To be fair – and accurate – the Jewish people faced enormous hardships and tragedies, – not the least of which were the destruction of the second temple, continual dispossession themselves, and brutal enslavement and oppression by powerful empires. The weight of these hardships over time led many to search for something more. They needed something tangible to hold to. They needed Israel.

  In his book The Dimensions of Job: A Study of Selected Readings, Nahum Glatzer presents many essays on the sufferings of the Jewish people, and their need to hope for a return to Israel. An essay in Glatzer’s book by Robert Gordis, explores this concept. He says, “God has eternity at His command, and nations are long-lived. This is particularly true of Israel. In Ben Sira’s words: ‘ The life of a man is but a few days, but the life of Jeshurun days without number.’”

     Margarete Susman in her essay God the Creator (Dimensions of Job…, Glatzer) further explores the plight of the Jews. She writes, “Since the destruction of the Temple and the journey into exile, they’ve recognized no country but the one on which the temple stood, and for the sake of the temple they’ve remained homeless.”  As Susman noted, the destruction of the 2^nd temple seems to have been the straw that broke the camel’s back for many Jews of that era. Of all the hardships faced by their people over the centuries, even dispossession itself does not seem to have had the psychological effect that the loss of the temple did. The Land of Milk and Honey may still have existed, but without the temple, their notion of being God’s chosen people had greatly faded.

    Historically, this may also have been the beginning of different factions of Judaism. There were those Jews as Susman had noted, that would see the loss of the temple as an end to their identity as a nation. Others, in their desire to persevere, altered their view of the temple as the centerpiece of their existence, and returned to their focus of God – or the Shekinah – as still holding them together as a people.  Karen Armstrong writes, “The loss of the Temple which had been the inspiration of the new Judaism was a great grief, but with hindsight it seems that the Jews of Palestine who were often more conservative than the Hellenized Jews of the Diaspora, had already prepared themselves for the catastrophe…God would live in a loving brotherhood, not in a stone temple.”

     As Armstrong has pointed out, even in the early centuries after the Temple had been destroyed, the notions of Judaism were starting to split. The Jews of the Diaspora started to focus on a return to the homeland to rebuild the Temple and thus rebuild their identity as a people. The Jews who actually lived in Palestine, were not going to limit their identity to the existence of a building.

     So how does all of this relate to modern Judaism? Surely the destruction of the Temple in 132 CE was not still the prominent focus for Jews of the last two centuries?  Indeed not. The Jews of the late 19^th century were seeing increasingly widespread anti-Semitism. This not only increased their desire to focus on the homeland, but also their hope of turning focus away from the historical notion of “chosenness” which fueled hatred toward the Jews.  Rabbi Teluskin wrote, “…it is not surprising that some Jews have wanted to do away with the belief in Jewish chosenness.  The most noted effect to do so was undertaken by Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, founder of the small but influential Reconstructionist movement. Kaplan advocated dropping chosenness for two reasons: to undercut accusations that the Chosen People idea was the model for racist ideologies, and because it went against modern thinking to see the Jews as a divinely chosen people.”  So the notion of Zionism had become a political reaction to the anti-Semitism of the time. Religion was beside the point. Although the Jews of the time still believed in God, their concern for the state of Israel was becoming their primary concern.

  Karen Armstrong writes about Franz Rosenzweig, and his concerns about what was happening. “Rosenzweig’s universal vision of religion made him suspicious of the new political Judaism that was emerging as a response to the new anti-Semitism. But Jews who fell victim to the escalating anti-Semitism did not feel they could afford the political disengagement. They could not sit back and wait for God to rescue them but redeem their people themselves.”  Armstrong writes about an influx of Jews from Eastern Europe in the late 19^th century who felt they needed a homeland as part of their identity. Zionists turned from the notion of God as savior, and turned toward the notion of Israel as destiny.

     It is clear then, that as time went on, the people whose ancestors originated worship of the one true God, were now becoming more secular in their thinking. Armstrong writes, “By working the land, which Zionists claimed had been neglected by the Arabs, the Jews would conquer it for themselves and at the same time, redeem themselves from the alienation of exile…the Zionist no longer needs God; he himself is the creator.”

     But what of those who still were deeply immersed in the religion of Judaism? Didn’t they see this new Zionism as a form of blasphemy?  While it’s true that the watering down of their religious beliefs troubled many, they didn’t see it as the end of Jewish practices.  Armstrong writes of Kabbalist Abraham Isaac Kook – the chief Rabbi for the Palestinian Jews – who was not at all horrified at the notion of Zionism. He saw it more as a “phase”, and one that could even help the Jews by bringing them closer to God (without their even knowing it). More and more Jews (like David Ben Gurion in the early 20^th century) made their way back to Israel.  Zionism was taking hold, but faith in God still lingered – even if it was an unspoken faith.

     That faith all but disappeared for many Jews with the horrors of the Holocaust.  Whereas the Jews of the 2^nd century had splintered into those who believed the idea of God was dependent on a Temple, versus others who saw a God existing outside the temple (the God of a “loving brotherhood”, as Armstrong noted), the Jews of the 20^th century further splintered off into those who still believed in God, and those who had nothing left to believe in but the land.  Throughout history, nothing seems to have shaken the faith of the Jewish people (and that of people everywhere) as the evils of the holocaust. How could a loving and powerful God allow the brutalization and extermination of 6 million of his “chosen” people? How could a loving God allow innocent children to be executed and not intervene?  For many Jews, God seems to have died along with the victims at Auschwitz.

     For these people in particular then, a belief in the land was still something to hold onto. God was beside the point now. For many, he no longer existed and maybe never did. The only truth lay in the soil of their homeland. The land of Israel. Israel represented the very core of their being, and their souls had become intertwined with the land – rather than with the God of scripture who brought them there.  Ironically, many of the same people in Israel who claimed a birthright to the land, did not even worship or believe in the God that gave them that birthright. Keith Ward in his 2004 lecture at Hartford Seminary said this is true of many if not most Israelis today (who reportedly tend to lean toward atheism).

     So we’ve seen the history of the Hebrew covenant. We’ve explored the changing face of Judaism from those who clung to the God of the Temple and those who clung to the land of the Temple. And we’ve seen the evolution of a people who clung to a nation to stay close to their God, to a people who (although certainly not all) now cling only to the nation, and can’t reconcile the notion of God based on modern day horrors.  Where does that leave the state of Israel today, and the legitimacy of the Jews’ claim of a Divinely deeded homeland?

     Even if we accept the argument that a loving God promised land to the Jews, was it truly meant to be an exclusive promise?  Did God intend this extreme exclusivity to reach a point where “the land of milk and honey” would become a land of war and death?  As the late 20^th and early 21^st centuries have demonstrated, an enormous amount of blood has been spilled by Jews and Arabs alike – in a fight not only about the land (particularly the holy city of Jerusalem), but also the rights of the Palestinian people to have a homeland of their own.

    The Jews exiled thousands of Palestinian settlers in 1948, resulting in decades of poverty and horrific living conditions for these exiles. The desperation of the Palestinian people has created extremist terrorist factions, whose only goal is to eradicate as many Israelis as they can – this because they know that the likelihood of a Palestinian state is dim.  In light of that prospect, the bloodshed is often less about the rights of the Palestinians, and more about the bloodshed itself.

      But, for the Jews who remain in modern day Israel, are these extreme measures truly based on a God-given birthright, or pure Zionism – and at what cost? Keith Ward makes the following observation in A Case For Religion. “The vast majority of Jews see the foundation of Israel as a secular state in 1948, as the restoration of the homeland they lost under Roman occupation in 132 CE. (But), the settlement of Israel at the cost of the dispossession of thousands of Palestinians is one of the most intractable political problems of the modern world. It is too simple to say that the problem is a religious cause.  The main cause is the Shoah and the promise of a homeland by the British.  The strong desire for a homeland is naturally closely bound up with religious sentiments where they exist, but those vary from extreme territorial expansionism to a desire for simple coexistence with Palestinians.”

     As I mentioned in the beginning, there has been a strong belief by Jews throughout the ages that Israel was given to them by God.  Clearly they have a case for claiming Israel – based not only on holy scripture, but on their endurance as a people through unspeakable horror and suffering. The heart and soul of the Israeli people is now intertwined with their homeland, and they will continue to fight (literally) to keep that land.  It is no coincidence that during the high holy days, Jews raise their glasses and say “next year in Jerusalem.”  Their hopes – their very futures – are tied to belief in everlasting peace and prosperity in Jerusalem.

     At the same time, we must also take into consideration the promise of God concerning Ishmael, the notion by biblical scholars (per Karen Armstrong) that certain books of the Torah could be mythical in nature, and most importantly the enormous day to day suffering of the Palestinian people.

In the final analysis, I believe that Israel must look at scripture in total, look at the history of the land (including the destruction and dispossession of other peoples going back to the time of the Canaanites), and God-willing, open their hearts and minds to the notion of sharing the land with the Palestinians. Not just for the reasons I mentioned above, but because the Jews in particular understand the notion of suffering. Ironically, it is the Jews who could probably – above all other peoples – empathize with the plight of the Palestinians.

     A Time Magazine article several years before his death, quoted Palestinian Chairman Yasser Arafat as having said, “I’m not going to surrender.”  The article also discussed “years of violence (between Jews and Palestinians) with no signs of ending.”  The Jews will fight to hold on to Israel, and the Palestinians will fight to return. If the bloodshed continues between these two peoples, “Next year in Jerusalem” may be the ominous prediction of the end of a nation, rather than the hopeful beginning of everlasting peace.

 

 

 

 

Common Threads – the ties that bind

Judaism, Christianity, Islam. Three religions, which have become symbols of division and hate. Three faiths, which – at their core – are devoted to God; Yahweh; Allah. But, extremists, fundamentalists, terrorists, and even government leaders have twisted these peaceful religions and used them to further agendas which could be considered anything but Godly.  Israelis and Palestinians have shed blood for years over land that Israel claims is its (covenantal) God-given home. Islamic extremists use their religion as a means of fueling hatred and violence against Jews and Christians, when it is really foreign governments (particularly Israel and The United States) that they hate. And, of course there is the Christian extreme right that uses hateful rhetoric to fuel prejudice not only toward Jews and Muslims, but gay men and women as well.  Even our own president invokes the name of God when talking about the justifications of war.

            At face value, these three religions couldn’t be more different. Jews are still waiting for the promised Messiah, a final return of all Jews to Israel and the building of the 3^rd and final temple. Christianity centers on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ – their Messiah and the Son of God – and awaits his second coming (as promised) at the end of time.  Islam is a faith based on a God given revelation to the prophet Muhammad, and Muslims everywhere believe that at the end time, they will be judged according to the dictates given Muhammad.  Three religions so different in both faith, and practice, that they can fuel prejudice and hatred toward one another. The irony? They are also all fundamentally rooted in some of the exact same theology. That is that according to the laws and dictates of God, people are to treat others justly, repent and reconcile for the wrongs they’ve done, and at the end of time they will be judged and counted according to their actions before being united with God.

            Looking first at Jewish scripture, there is a great deal of text devoted to the issue of justice.  Author William Silverman writes in his Rabbinic Wisdom and Jewish Values that, “it is through the Talmud, the Midrash and Hasidic literature that Judaism (reflects) the belief in a personal God of justice and compassion.”  Silverman explores the issues of justice and the ways humans should treat one another. He quotes Isaiah 56.1, which says, “Keep ye justice and do righteousness.”  Silverman then uses various Midrash as examples of this directive. There is a Midrash about Rabbi Wolf, who decides to accompany his wife for mediation of a dispute she is having with her maidservant. The reader soon learns however, that he is not going for the sake of his wife, but for the sake of the maidservant who is unwise in legal matters.  Rabbi Wolf says to his wife, “You know (what to say to the judge) quite well, but the poor orphan, your maidservant, in whose behalf I am coming does not know it, and who except me is there to defend her cause?”  The Midrash takes the directive of justice given in Isaiah and expands on it to show that justice should be pursued for our rivals/enemies as well as us.

            Christian theology is also concerned with issues of justice.  Here however, the focus is on the teachings of Jesus Christ as expressed in the four canonized gospels.  As a professor once said in class, “Jesus taught that to do justice, you have to look beyond the letter of the law, and to the spirit which was intended.” 

            For example, we see in Matthew 5:43-44 that Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy’. But I say to you Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven…”

            Jesus’ teachings on treatment of the poor and sick were also numerous, but nothing could exemplify His idea of justice better than that which is now known as “The Golden Rule”.  In Matthew 7:12, Jesus said, “In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you, for this is the law and the Prophets.”

            This message of justice in Jesus’ teachings was not limited to the gospel.  Paul’s letters to the gentile followers of Christ spoke greatly of following His directives on justice.  According to Professor A., “Paul tells us that Christ fulfilled the law. But, we still have responsibility in not sinning, and responding with love and peace.”

            Islam of course, is a religion also steeped in justice and righteous behavior toward fellow human beings. Unfortunately, the horrible misdeeds of a few in the name of Islam have blinded others to the peace and justice of this religion. Justice is commanded throughout the Qur’an, and thus is considered God-given law among Muslims.

            The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Modern Islamic World expands on this notion. “An important element of the new consciousness was the notion of book as law, for law now came to be identified with something written or laid down in writing. Surah 98.3 represents a coalescence of the notions of book and law; the word Kutub in it means laws, regulations.” 

            John Renard, in his Seven Doors to Islam, says that the Qur’an is clear on the individual’s responsibility to seek what is right and just according to those written laws.  Renard writes, “Believers must struggle against whatever stands between the self and its origin and goal, and strive to overcome injustice and oppression.” Further, “These thematic aspects of Qur’anic spirituality – attentiveness, intention, inner discipline, gratitude, generosity, personal responsibility, and the struggle for justice, represent only a small sample of the important issues the scripture offers for consideration.”

            So we see that justice and righteousness are key components of what scripture commands of us in all three religions. What happens though, when we fail to do that? What if we not only wrong our fellow human beings, but God? Do we just feel bad about it and vow to do better next time?  Again, all three religions agree on the idea of  repentance and reconciliation.

            Nothing could symbolize repentance more in the Jewish community than Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement. No word could represent reconciliation more than shalom – or as Professor L. said in class, “the reconciliation of two opposites.”  The Torah is very specific on the need to repent and reconcile with God. 

            Written about the times in which Moses lived, there is of course much talk of “sin offerings” and rituals for God as part of atonement.  The importance of atoning though, is clear (and timeless).  Leviticus 16 deals with a lengthy and complex cleansing ritual which Aaron must perform in order to make right with God that which his two sons had made wrong (and for which they were killed).  After Aaron is given the list of ritual sin offerings, God says, “And this shall be to you a law for all time: In the seventh month on the tenth day of the month, you shall practice self-denial; and you shall do no manner of work, neither the citizen nor the alien who resides among you.  For on this day atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you of all your sins; you shall be clean before the Lord.  It shall be a Sabbath of complete rest for you, and you shall practice self-denial; it is a law for all time.” (Leviticus 16.29-31)  Further, “This shall be to you a law for all time: to make atonement for the Israelites for all their sins once a year.” (Leviticus 16.34)

            Micah in the Nevi’im (7.18-20) assures us that God does indeed forgive.  The scripture says, “Who is a God like You, Forgiving iniquity and remitting transgression; who has not maintained His wrath forever against the remnant of His own people, because he loves graciousness! He will take us back in love; He will cover up our iniquities.  Loyalty to Abraham, as You promised on oath to our fathers in days gone by.”

            What Judaism reconciles through the atonement of Yom Kippur, Christianity reconciles through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.  Professor A. said (about Paul’s main focus in his teachings) that, “Christ fulfilled the law. We still have responsibility in not sinning and responding with love and peace.  But God still justifies by the faith of Christ or faith in Christ.”

            Wesley Ariarajah in The Bible and People of Other Faiths elaborates further on this notion of Jesus as redeemer and savior. “Indeed all the letters of Paul are an attempt to show that God has acted in a decisively saving way in Jesus the Christ, and that one can enter this salvation through faith in him.”  Ariarajah continues, “ The Letter to the Hebrews argues that Christ’s is the last and final sacrifice. ‘So God does away with all the old sacrifices and puts the sacrifice of Christ in their place.  Because Jesus Christ did what God wanted him to do, we are all purified from sin by the offering that he made in his own body once and for all. (Heb.10:9-10)’ “ Professor Agosto summarized not only the writings of Paul, but basic Christian theology when he said, “We can sin, but not be called sinners because of Christ.”

            The Qur’an, although recognizing the laws given by Moses, and noting Jesus as one of the holiest of prophets, has a slightly different view on repentance.  In their book, The Islamic Understanding of Death and Resurrection, Jane Smith and Yvonne Haddad talk of the Qur’anic belief that judgment day will focus on balancing good acts and bad acts in a person’s lifetime. “In the exegesis of S7:46-50 what the verses call the companions of the heights [ashab al-a’raf] are most often identified as person of equal deeds, who remain in a kind of limbo until all others have entered the Garden.  At that time, conclude most commentators, they will be washed in the River of Life and admitted to paradise.”  This doesn’t mean however that there is no chance for repentance – quite the contrary. Smith and Haddad go on to say, “The Qur’an makes frequent mention of repentance [tawba], referring both to the specific act of the sinner who repents of his action and to the turning of God toward one who offers his repentance, an acceptance of that response. S 4:18 clearly states that a last minute repentance made on one’s deathbed is not efficacious and in fact earns a severe punishment.” (Compare this to Christianity, in which anyone can be saved by repenting up until the minute of death.  In fact, the Catholic Church considers suicide the only unforgivable sin, because the act itself cannot be repented for.)  Smith and Haddad continue, “Because it is understood to entail a resolve not to repeat the same offense, repentance must also come before one is about to die.  But unlike Christianity, there is debate as to whether repentance decides the ultimate fate of the sinner.”

             Smith and Haddad continue, “Islam in general recognized that tawba is obligatory for one who wrongs, but opinions again differed as to its absolute necessity for salvation.  The Mu’tazila, who felt that God must accept the sincere tawba of the sinner, held to the necessity of repentance to free one from the intermediary position of fisq.  The majority of the Sunni community however, felt that divine mercy and pardon are independent of human response, and that the only sin for which repentance is crucial for salvation is the ultimate major sin of kufr or shirk.”

            Justice and repentance.  Two of the most crucial elements of these Abrahamic religions – commanded by God as part of our responsibility as human beings.  However, the third and final element (or theme) to be explored here, has to be one of the most (if not the most) thought about, talked about, preached on and prayed on – that is the eschaton, or as is said more commonly, “the end of time”.

            Eschatology is a major focus of the Christian and Islamic faith traditions, (which will be explored shortly), but  according to Professor L.,  the judgment aspect is not as critical in Jewish tradition.  L. taught us that Jewish belief focuses on a “messianic fulfillment”.  In other words, a messiah will come in the form of a prophet sent by God.  This messiah will set up a reign of peace in the new kingdom of Jerusalem.  A third temple will appear (although it’s not clear in what form), and the world will finally live in a state of shalom.  The Jewish faith is focused on loving God, and atoning or cleansing until the coming of the Messiah, but not as much with the “or else” aspect attached.  (Although Jewish scripture does still talk about punishment for the ungodly.)

            Malachi is the last book of the Nevi’im, and so looks toward this end time.  Malachi 3.1 says, “Behold, I am sending My messenger to clear the way before Me, and the Lord whom you seek shall come to His temple suddenly.  As for the Angel of the covenant that you desire, he is already coming.”  Malachi goes on to say “For lo,  that day is at hand, burning like an oven.  All the arrogant and all the doers of evil shall be straw, and the day that is coming – said the Lord of Hosts – shall burn them to ashes and leave of them neither stock nor boughs.  But for you who revere My name a sun of victory shall rise to bring healing…Lo I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of the Lord. He shall reconcile parents with children, and children with their parents, so that when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.” (Malachi 3.19-24)   

            Of the three major religions, Christianity is arguably the one most steeped in the eschaton itself.  The book of Revelation is the focal point of many evangelical and charismatic Christian churches.  Talk of  “the end of time” ranges from the fire and brimstone preaching in Southern Baptist churches, to the Catholic teachings of heaven and hell, with confession being the only way to avoid hell.  Even popular culture is flooded with fundamentalist Christian stories about the last day and the idea of the rapture.  The enormous success of the “Left Behind” series is a great example.

            Virginia Wiles in her book Making Sense of Paul, says the following, “Apocalyptic eschatology is a particular kind of eschatological thinking that focuses on at least two items.  First, apocalyptic thinking assumes some crisis will bring this present world to an end and inaugurate a new world.  Second, it emphasizes the cosmic nature and purpose of the crisis…”  She also asserts that it was this notion of eschatology that fueled Paul’s expectation for Israel.

            Of course, unlike the Jews who are awaiting the arrival of a messiah that has not yet come, Christians are awaiting the second coming of their messiah, Jesus Christ.  Paul writes in his Letter to the Hebrews (9:27-28), “Just as man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.”    Similarly in Peter, “The end of all things is near.  Therefore, be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray.  Above all, love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins.” (1Peter 44: 7-11)   In both pieces of scripture, it should be noted that there is talk of the end time, but not a violent apocalypse.

            So where does all the fire and brimstone and fear of the end time come from? Through study of the gospels and the epistles, it does not come from the disciples or apostles.  Rather, it comes from a rather obscure book named Revelation.  Revelation is a book that is symbolic in nature, and for centuries biblical scholars have tried to interpret those symbols.   For most, the conclusion has been that it reflects a premonition of the end days.  An apocalyptic blood bath in which Christ will return and fight with his minions against evil.  This obviously is a powerful and fearful motivator for people focused on eschatology.  But as Professor A. told us, some biblical scholars now believe that this book was written as a description of what was happening at the time between Israel and the Roman Empire – and not a predictor of things to come.

            The idea of judgment day though – a true day of “judgment” -  is probably most prominent (and complicated) in the Islamic faith.  Revisiting The Islamic Understanding of Death and Resurrection, Smith and Haddad explore this further. “As we were created responsible, so shall we be held accountable, each person for himself and no soul answerable for the actions and beliefs of any other.  When God so pleases, we humans will be brought into his presence and judgment will be rendered in terms of the ways in which we have chosen to live our lives.  The reality of the eschaton, the arrival of the day of judgment is consonant with the return to God, return being essential to the completion of God’s plan for all creation.”

            Smith and Haddad go into great detail of the many aspects of the Islamic eschaton that make it so complicated.  There are many layers to heaven and hell. There are various issues of time and space; and physical vs. spiritual aspects of the soul.  There is the possibility of intercession, and debate on whether Muhammad is the only one who can truly intercede.  Yes, God will judge on the final day, but what happens after that is truly involved.  The bottom line though, as Haddad and Smith observe, is “God is one; the recognition of the oneness is the ultimate charge for each individual; the content of that recognition is the living of an ethically integrated existence, i.e. one of integrity.  There is, in other words, a direct and clear relationship between recognizing God’s oneness and unity, which is the full measure of Tawhid, and living a life of complete moral responsibility.  According to the degree to which this responsibility has been discharged, God’s word of judgment will be passed and final felicity or purgation accorded.”

            It is truly amazing to study these three different and seemingly opposing religions, and note how similar they are.  Not only in their faith in the Father of Abraham – the same one true God; Yahweh; Allah – but in that they all teach some of the very same theological concepts.   As we’ve seen in all three works of scripture, human beings are supposed to treat each other justly. When they fail to do this, they have to repent and reconcile.  And when they fail to do that, they will be judged and separated from God for eternity.  What is more amazing though, is that the very leaders that hold up these religions as justification for hatred and violence, are violating the very faith traditions they so fervently invoke – and are destroying the world bit by bit in the process.

Efraim Agosto sums it up best in his essay “Religious Leadership in the Aftermath of September 11”, (11 September – Religious Perspectives On The Causes And Consequences). “All leaders, but religious leaders in particular must plot together careful action that will promote peace, reconciliation, and ‘good news.’ … Religious leaders of today must promote love and reconciliation if they are going to be true to the core values of all religious faith…True leaders refuse to hide in the face of calamity and weakness.  They do not pursue calamity; they seek improvement in the midst of weakness.  Because calamity and worse are inevitable, the challenge lies in how we respond when they come.   If a greater cause motivates us, we seek to overcome the calamity and hardship, and we strengthen ourselves for the long haul in spite of our weaknesses.  Ultimately, we rely on God to help us through the crisis and guide us in our response.  Without such dependence, we can fail miserably.”

God help us indeed.

           

The non-traditional Christian – me!

     I was in the Niantic Women’s Prison chapel (visiting with my women’s leadership class), when the Christian Minister rose to deliver his sermon.  He said, “All everybody talks about is God this and God that. God, God, God.  What they really should be talking about is Jesus Christ!”  I was horrified.  I was a Christian yes, but personally I had always believed that Jesus’ main purpose was to bring people closer to God – not to deify him in place of God.  Was I a bad Christian for praying to God, rather than Jesus Christ?  I hadn’t thought so, but here was an ordained Christian minister saying that Jesus should be our sole focus.  And, why was he saying it? Why do so many Christians feel that since Christ has redeemed them, he should be our sole focus?   I was deeply troubled.

            I was grateful then to read Wesley Ariarajah’s book “People of Other Faiths”.  His views on Jesus had a profound impact on me, and helped reaffirm what I had always believed.  That is that Jesus Christ was focused on teaching about God – not on replacing him.  Ariarajah writes, “The most striking fact in the Synoptics is Jesus’ own God-centered life.  He never calls himself the Son of God, but the Son of man.  Even more important, Jesus sees his primary function as the initiator of the Kingdom of God.  It is God who offers life to all who enter the kingdom.  Jesus’ own life is entirely God-centered, God dependent, and God-ward.  In the Synoptic environment, it would be strange if Jesus were to say, ‘I and the Father are one’, or ‘I am the way, the truth and the life.’  There seems to be no claim to divinity or to oneness with God; what we have is the challenge to live lives that are totally turned toward God.”   If only I had Ariarajah’s book that day with me in Niantic!   Seeing in print what I had always believed – that Jesus was God-centered and not “Jesus-centered” was an enormous comfort.

            There was still the question though, of why so many Christians focus solely on Christ, almost to the point – as the minister was doing – of setting aside God?  I believe this question was answered both in a classroom discussions with Professor Agosto, as well as in the Time magazine article on alternative gospels.  It’s because the Gospel of John directed that only through Jesus could a person reach God – or more to the point – be saved!    One line in one Gospel seems to have shaped the focus of Christianity (and in so doing, led many Christians to disregard people of other faiths).

            In a Time Magazine article, Elaine Pagels discusses “traditional Christianity’s emphasis that salvation depends upon, among other things, accepting Christ’s divinity and his exclusive claim expressed in the Gospel of John that ‘no one comes to the Father except through me.’”  Among the four canonized Gospels, and the myriad of others that were written, only John seems to have made this assertion. This was a revelation to me. And yet, as I read Pagels comments, and digested other references to John over many weeks, I could not help but feel that Christians are so focused on the “except through me”, that they are forgetting the main focus – which is coming to the Father.  I liken it to trying to enter a house with a locked front door – a beautiful, perfect, flawless door.  If one focuses on the door itself – finding the key, or picking the lock or even just holding the knob and taking in the beauty and perfection of the door, one forgets that the real objective is the house itself.  In the process, one also ends up disregarding the windows and doors and other ways of entering, and might just end up outside for good!  This is in no way a means to compare the awesome beauty of Christ with a door, but hopefully the metaphor speaks for itself.

            I will admit that I am not the traditional Christian.  I love Jesus Christ. I know that he died because of what he taught, and that he was loving, just and righteous.  I know that without his teachings, a great deal of the world would not know how we should live our lives as children of God.  But, I have also always prayed directly to God.  I am someone who believes that there are many paths to God – not just Christianity.  And I have believed for most of my life that Jesus himself would say that Muslims, Jews, and any other person that worships God has a place in the kingdom of heaven.  Living my life among mainly traditional Christians, I have often felt “wrong” – even blasphemous – for having those beliefs.   Ariarajah, Pagels, and the class discussions themselves have helped me see that being a non-traditional Christian does not make me a bad Christian.  On the contrary, I think that by loving God with all my heart and soul, I am doing precisely what Jesus taught me to do.  Isn’t THAT what makes a good Christian?

Jewish Scripture Reflection – Understanding Midrash

 

            A woman found herself in an orchard abundant with fruit.  There were so many varieties however, that she found herself dizzied by the prospect of choosing.  A rabbi happened upon the orchard and she said to him “Rabbi, surely you know which tree is best to eat?”  He told her, “Yes, there is one. But you can only find it by sampling each fruit on your own.”  Frustrated, the woman sampled each of the many trees until she was sure she had found the sweetest and ripest fruit of them all. Proud of her accomplishment, she called out, “Rabbi, come and see. I have found the tree of which you spoke.” He told her, “That is not the tree from which I eat.” Confused, she asked him, “How can this be? I have sampled every tree and this is surely the sweetest.” The rabbi replied, “What is sweet to one may be bitter to another. Only you can say which is right for you.  Had I simply shown you the tree I find most pleasing, you would have gone straight to it, and missed finding the one that’s clearly sweeter for you.  Only through the work of careful sampling were you able to find what was most rewarding.”

            I wrote the above (albeit crude) Midrash to show my struggle in choosing which portion of Jewish text on which to write. The Jewish written and oral traditions (the Pentateuch, the Kethuvim, the Talmud, etc.) are so rich in wisdom, rabbinical teachings,  and biblical text, that I was not at all sure which was best suited for my focus.    In the end, I decided to focus on what was “sweetest” to me.  I’m absolutely fascinated with the use of Midrash to illustrate rabbinical teachings, and it is this branch of Jewish text that I find most inspiring.

            As my professor pointed out, the Midrash – which is part of the Talmud – is actually oral tradition put into written form.  In fact, there is so much oral tradition that the Midrash is comprised of 63 volumes! He also pointed out that the Midrash is an example of Acadah – that is spiritual and ethical ideas taught through folklore, symbols, etc.   With all that in mind then, it would seem these numerous stories were merely fables handed down (through the oral tradition) for the purpose of intrigue, colorful tale telling, or in some cases to further the personal agendas of the author.  This is particularly true of the Midrash written by Rabbi Meyer and Rabbi Judah.  Each rabbi wrote a Midrash on which tribe was first to cross the red sea.  There was no biblical text to support either of their assertions, so it was clear they invented the stories to bring prominence to their own respective ancestries.

            Both my professor and author William Silverman however, assert that most Midrash are much more than fables – and that they are equally as important as other Jewish text in teaching the laws, ethics and justice of God.  Although certain aspects of Jewish literature may be viewed as more sacred, (e.g. the Pentateuch which are the five books of Moses), the Midrash is considered an invaluable tool of rabbinic teaching.  Silverman writes in his  “Rabbinic Wisdom and Jewish Values”, that it is “through the Talmud, the Midrash, and Hasidic literature that Judaism reveals the belief in a personal God of justice and compassion.”

            The beauty of the Midrash in particular though, is its ability to simplify complex biblical (or other Judaic) text in a way that the reader can translate to everyday life.  For example, in Chapter 5 of Silverman’s book, he explores the issues of justice and the ways in which humans should treat one another.  He uses biblical text to explain God’s command, but only through the use of the Midrash do we have a clear understanding of what the text is saying.  Silverman quotes Isaiah 56:1, which says, “Keep ye justice, and do righteousness…” Looking strictly at the text, it is difficult to determine what this means.  Is justice simply the following of Jewish law?  Is it more primal such as “an eye for an eye”? The text is unclear.  But upon reading the Midrash about Rabbi Wolf and his wife’s quarrel with her maidservant, one can better understand the rabbinical interpretation.  When Rabbi Wolf accompanies his wife for mediation of the dispute, we learn that it is not for her sake, but for the sake of the maidservant who is unwise in legal matters.  Specifically, Rabbi Wolf says, “You know (what to say to the judge) quite well, but the poor orphan, your maidservant, in whose behalf I am coming does not know it, and who except me is there to defend her cause?”  The Midrash then, clarifies the lesson of Isaiah in that justice should be pursued not only for us, but for our rivals/enemies as well. Only then can we be righteous in the eyes of God.   Isaiah provides the Divine directive, but it is the Midrash that illustrates how the directive applies to everyday life.

            Silverman uses a different Midrash to reflect God’s justice in punishing the wicked.   He writes, “With or without man’s knowledge, God’s law of retribution applies to the affairs of men. Goodness is rewarded and evil is punished, even though it may not be at the time or in the way we would expect.” This of course, is a point that has been debated for centuries.  But the Midrash used by Silverman is quite persuasive in its assertion that God punishes evil men. He tells the story of the Roman conqueror Titus who turned the Judean temple into a brothel, cut the curtain of the Holy Ark, and claimed to be stronger than the God of Israel.  The Midrash goes on to say that God arranged for a tiny gnat to be put in Titus’ goblet of wine. The gnat went up Titus’ nose, devoured his brain, and turned into a dove. Physicians, rabbis, etc. were said to be present at the opening of Titus’ head, and indeed a dove was inside. The dove subsequently turned back into a gnat, and “the soul of Titus flew to destruction.”  Thus, as the Midrash says, “God decided to destroy Titus by the smallest of his creation.”  Yes, the Midrash is more likely legend than fact, but it makes a stronger point in one short story, than pages of biblical theory/study might otherwise attempt.

            What strikes me most about the Midrash though, is that even a story written in ancient times can still apply to today’s world.  Silver demonstrates this through the   Midrash of the woodsman.  In the story, a woodsman asks the trees for wood, and they offer up their weakest/humblest tree. In the end though, it is they who are felled, and they realize it was to their detriment to offer up the humblest among them. Silver compares this to the problems of today’s world when he says, “The phenomenon of larger nations sacrificing smaller nations to an aggressor, only to be cut down as the next victims, has been demonstrated in contemporary history.”   For me, this is reminiscent of the actions of our own nation.  Past U.S. administrations supplied weaponry and training to Iraq in hopes they would destroy our enemy Iran (the smaller nation). Now we (the larger nation) are sacrificing our own soldiers as a result.

My professor was right when he says that the written texts may be closed, but the oral tradition is open forever.   Even in today’s contemporary world, the lessons of the Midrash still hold true.  Their timeless wisdom makes them just as useful in the 21^st century as when they were first written.  It is that aspect, I believe, which makes them “most pleasing” to me today.

Jesus from a Muslim perspective

There are so many rich passages and tenets of justice in the Qur’an, that it would be impossible to give them their due in one page.  I will narrow my focus then, to one point of study in our readings and class work – the Islamic idea of a non-crucified Jesus.

            As a Christian, I was taught that not only did Jesus die, but also that God sent him here to die.  It doesn’t evoke the image of a loving God.  Conversely, Jewish scholars believe that Jesus was crucified, but certainly not for divine purpose.  Learning then, that Muslims believe that not only was Jesus raised into heaven, but without a crucifixion at all is fascinating to me. 

            When I first heard that Muslims didn’t believe in the crucifixion, I assumed it was following Jewish tradition of Jesus as man – not divinity.  Only through our recent study of Qur’an, did I learn that Muslim belief on crucifixion comes closer to mimicking Christian theology – that is in the idea of a “raised” Jesus.  Christians believe that Jesus died first – but to see such different religions aligned in belief of a physical Christ in heaven is very exciting. 

            What particularly intrigues me as a Christian, is that Muslims believe Jesus was one of the most holy prophets ever recorded. I love the passage (Surah 4), which says, “They neither killed nor crucified him, even thought it seems so…rather, God lifted him up to Himself.”  As someone who was always horrified at the thought of a crucified Christ, I found this an almost comforting notion.  For it is not the crucifixion on which I focus as a Christian, but rather the life of Jesus and what he taught.

            Along the same lines, the notion of God letting Jesus die – and in such a horrific manner – has also really bothered me.  But as my classmate Mohammed explained, Muslims believe that God would “never let his greatest prophet be tortured or killed”.   As a Christian who doesn’t really subscribe to the view of Jesus as blood sacrifice – particularly by a loving and merciful God – I can’t help but find the Muslim view of a non-crucified Jesus just beautiful.  Toss in the Islamic faith in a second coming, and I am again in awe of two such divergent religions finding commonality through a reverence of Christ.