Friends,
I want to continue the mode of thought that I began in last week’s Extra, but before that I want to offer an apology.
Apology: Two weeks ago, I left out a crucial adjective when describing St. Mark. I was picking up on the phrase “white, relatively well-to-do congregation” that I had been using to make a point and referred to St. Mark as such. I ought to have said, “historically” or “mostly” white, relatively well-to-do congregation instead. If my choice of words left any of you feeling unseen or left out, I apologize and promise to try to do better.
Back to last week’s Extra. I wrote about how many of the biblical stories that we have been reading contain so much violence (e.g. Jael and her infamous tent peg) that I know of pastors who refuse to preach from the books of Joshua and Judges. It is my contention that the violence in these stories is not prescriptive but descriptive, and rather courageously so. It is one thing to say, “God is great” in a time of relative ease and comfort. It is quite another to say the same in times of war, famine, and loss. One form of this question entertained in the Psalms is, “Does the steadfast love of God endure, even in this moment?” Another form from Genesis through Ruth is, “Will God keep the promise that God made to Abraham?”
Yet even if we were able to yield our fortunes and our travesties to the sovereignty of God by maintaining that “God is great,” another question comes up. If God is great and calamity happens, can we also say that God is good? So the question is not just “Is God sovereign?” but “Is the sovereign God also the loving God when calamity strikes?” That question has been raised anew among liberation theologies, post-holocaust theologies, and even in popular reflections, such as Rabbi Harold Kushner’s When Bad Things Happen to Good People.
This question is further complicated when we say that one expression of God’s love is that God gives us the gift of freedom. We are free to return God’s love by being faithful. Or not. We are free to embody God’s love by loving our neighbor. Or not. We are free to reflect God’s love by loving ourselves as God’s creation. Or not. Even Presbyterians, with our historic understanding of predestination, honor human freedom. It’s a messy situation, because, if God is loving and God’s love is expressed in offering us the freedom to return that love (or not), then that make God vulnerable in a way that we don’t associate with “sovereignty.” The prophets even depict God as an aggrieved spouse, whose lover cheats openly and repeatedly. It is a profound thought that God’s sovereignty is expressed, not by forcing us to mechanically love and serve, but by allowing us to err, even as God calls us back in the vulnerability of unrequited love.
I attended a panel discussion on Psalm 82 once that had biblical scholars from both Presbyterian and Lutheran seminaries. The first speaker said, “When I saw the composition of this panel, I knew exactly the trajectory of our conversation. The Presbyterians would speak from the perspective of God’s sovereignty, while the Lutheran’s would speak from the perspective of God’s love.” (There’s a lot of history behind that astute observation). One of our driving aims this summer is to find ways to read violent biblical stories and disarmingly honest psalms, not to mention manifest brutality of the cross, through the lens of God’s sovereign love, or God’s loving sovereignty. That’s why those of us who preach rely on your prayers.
See you in worship,
Mark of St. Mark