In these days of reality TV, cameras capture the events and happenings of individuals and families as they go about their day to day lives. I wonder how many of us would be riveted by the goings on in the Isaac and Rebekah household that is found in the Old Testament. Isaac and Rebekah have two boys and name them Esau and Jacob. Unusually there does not seem to be much of a bond between the twins. Esau became a skilled hunter, a man who loved the outdoor life, but Jacob was a quiet man who stayed at home Genesis 25:27 Good News Bible.)
Perhaps the brothers were not helped by their parents who preferred one twin over the other. Isaac favoured Esau and Rebekah Jacob.
One incident illuminates the different agendas Isaac and Rebekah have for their “favourite”. Isaac summons Esau and tells his son “You see that I am old and may die soon. Take your bow and arrows, go out into the country, and kill an animal for me. Cook me some of that tasty food that I like, and bring it to me. After I have eaten it I will give you my final blessing before I die.” (Genesis 27: 2-4 Good News Bible) Rebekah overhears and forms a plan. She persuades Jacob to trick his father into believing that he (Jacob) is Esau. Rebekah puts onto Jacob Esau’s best clothes and covers his arms and neck with the skin of goats. Isaac whose sight was failing is taken in by the deception and blesses Jacob. When Esau returns and asks his father to bless him, Isaac (mortified that he has been deceived) informs Esau “I have already made him (Jacob) master over you, and I have made all his relatives his slaves. I have given him corn and wine. Now there is nothing that I can do for you, my son!” (Genesis 27:37 Good News Bible)
Betrayal, the most destructive of actions, rips apart the family once and for all. Esau is set on spilling the blood of his twin. Rebekah protects her boy by sending Jacob away to stay with her brother. At the same time she puts herself in a vulnerable position at home. It will now be two against one. Rebekah will cease to exist in the eyes of Isaac and Esau.
What is the saying, “You can choose your friends but you cannot choose your relatives.” Lord God, forgive me for my actions and attitudes to my family that have been less than loving!
One opinion about Rebekah’s actions is to say that she is cynical, selfish and manipulative. However there is another viewpoint that I would like to put forward.
If we go back to the time where Isaac and Rebekah enjoyed the happiness and excitement that new love creates, Isaac prays for Rebekah because she had no children. The Lord hears Isaac’s prayer and Rebekah falls pregnant with twins. However Rebekah senses that within her womb there is hostility between the two boys. Unable to comprehend why this should be she asks the Lord for an answer. “The Lord says to her, two nations are within you; you will give birth to two rival peoples. One will be stronger than the other; the older will serve the younger.” (Genesis 25: 23 GNB)
Later when Rebekah overhears her husband declaring he will bless Esau, I wonder if she fears God’s prophecy will not come true and so she decides to give a helping hand.
For myself I wouldn’t dare say that I have the only hotline to God, but I wonder how often I believe (and have believed) God desires the church should move in a certain direction, or consider (and have considered) a course of action should be taken because I think I have God on my side believing I am helping the Eternal’s cause.
Let’s refocus on Esau and Jacob. There seems to be a viewpoint in the world of association football that you should “never say never”. In other words there is a possibility that what would seem to be the unlikeliest of scenarios could happen. It would seem would it not that Esau and Jacob given their personality and history could never enter in a reconciliation; how wrong we would be. Here is how it happened.
Jacob experience of family (this time with his uncle Laban) is once again one of deceit and lies. (You can read his experiences in chapters 29, 30 and 31 of Genesis) Jacob leaves his uncles like a thief in the night. The Lord instructs him to return to his land and his relatives. However Jacob is fearful when he hears that Esau is riding to meet him with four hundred men. He seeks to deflect his brother’s anger by sending a substantial amount of livestock as a gift. When the brothers finally meet Jacob bows to the ground seven times as he approached his brother. Esau runs to Jacob embraces him and kisses him (Is there not an echo here of the father welcoming the prodigal son?)
I wonder if Esau’s action is the first recorded act of grace between one human and another in the bible? Esau has offered undeserved forgiveness and welcomed Jacob as an equal. Both brothers have come a long way since living with their parents; their relationship can move forward positively in the days to come.
The meeting between Esau and Jacob reminds me of an episode between God and Israel in Hosea chapter 11. I’ll let Hosea speak for the Lord.
“When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. But the more I called Israel the further they went from me. They sacrificed to the Baals and they burned incense to images. It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realise that it was I who healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness. With ties of love; I lifted the yoke from their neck and bent down to feed them.
Will they not return to Egypt and will not Assyria rule over them because they refuse to repent? Swords will flash in their cities, will destroy the bars of their gates and put an end to their plans. My people are determined to turn from me. Even if they call to the Most High, he will by no means exalt them.
How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I make you like Zeboiim? My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused. I will not carry out my fierce anger, nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.” (Hosea 11:1-9 New International Version)
I want to trust in the fact that love is the most powerful force in the Universe. I want to believe that the reconciliation between Esau and Jacob is a beacon of hope for humanity!!!!
SHALOM
Monday, June 27, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Jesus the king by Anselm Gruen (with kind permission of Continuum publishing)
In politics Kings have had their day. When we say that someone is a king, we mean he radiates dignity. Yet if someone always wants to be king we develop an antipathy to him. He always wants to have a central position and to dominate everything. In fairy tales and myths the king is always an archetypal image, an image of a whole person, the person who rules himself instead of being ruled by other powers.
In fairy tales there are king’s sons who go out to seek the water of life. There are three spheres in human beings which have to be transformed if they are to find their true selves. Greek philosophy – like that of Plato – sees the king as the true wise man who knows about ideas. He knows about the heights and depths of life, the mysteries of light and darkness.
The Bible calls Jesus a king only in parables and in the passion story. In the discourse about the judgement of the world Jesus compares himself with the king who says to the sheep “come you blessed of my Father, take as your heritage the kingdom which has been destined for you since the creation of the world” (Matt. 25.34). On the cross above Jesus’ head “an inscription was attached indicating the charge against him.” “This is Jesus, the king of the Jews” (Matt 27.37). The people mocked him as king. “If you are the king of the Jews, then help yourself” (Luke 23.37). For the Romans the title “king” is the reason for executing Jesus; for the Jews it’s the occasion for mocking him. Jesus does not correspond to their image of a king. The Cross puts in question their understanding of what a king is. Jesus isn’t the king the Jews expected.
John shows us in his Gospel how Jesus understands himself as a king. When interrogating Jesus, Pilate puts to him the clear question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (John 18.33). Jesus answered “My kingdom is not of this world. If it was of this world, my people would fight so that I was not handed over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not of this world” (John 18.36).
With these words Jesus interprets his kingship in a completely new way. Jesus is a royal personage, yet his kingdom is not of this world. Jesus has this kingly dignity from God. So no one can dispute his kingship. What Jesus says of himself here is a promise for every Christian. I too can say of myself “My kingdom is not of this world.” There is a sphere in me over which the world has no power. There is a kingly dignity in me which no one can take from me. My “inner kingdom”. Where I am completely myself, I am invulnerable. For there, Christ is in me with his royal power.
The paradox is that it is in his suffering that Jesus speaks of his kingdom. At the very point where Jesus has been condemned, scourged and nailed to the Cross, he is king. So despite all the outward humiliation and hurt Jesus strides through his passion in a sovereign way.
That means that the reality of my own inner kingdom also continues on my way of the Cross. At the very point I am judged and condemned by others, where I am misunderstood, where I am scourged, where I am insulted, made to look ridiculous, there is something in me that no one can hurt. Where I fail, there is something in me that cannot be broken. Even in my dying the divine dignity cannot be taken from me. The knowledge of my kingdom, which is not of this world, continues to work in this world’s freedom, as confidence, as calmness and inner strength which no one can break.
When Pilate asks, “Are you a king then?”, Jesus replies, “it is you who say I am a king. I was born for this, I came into the world for this, to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of the truth listen to my voice.” (John 18.37). Jesus understood his kingship as a testimony to the truth. The Greek image of the king shines out in this saying. Jesus is the king who lifts the veil that lies over reality. He is the wise man who leads us into the truth and who makes us share in his knowledge.
Knowledge comes from seeing. Jesus sees to the heart of things. He looks at human beings from God’s perspective. He knows “what is in man” (John 2.25). His knowledge of the mystery of human beings comes to a climax on the Cross. The Cross is an image for the unity of all opposites. On the Cross Jesus comes into contact with heaven and earth, with light and darkness, with good and evil, with the conscious and unconscious, with woman and man. On the Cross Jesus is initiated into the mystery of God and humankind. On the Cross he is the king who leads us into the truth, who opens our eyes so that we know the ground of all being: God who is love.
For me, (Anselm) Jesus the king is an invitation to discover my own royal dignity and to recognise it particularly in my own suffering, in my weakness and helplessness, in my being nailed to the Cross. Just imagine that in your sickness, in the conflicts of your everyday life, in situations where you feel weak, sensitive, uncertain, there is something you can lay your hands on because it is divine. If that is the case, how would you go through your everyday life, what would you feel about yourself if your boss criticised you, if something in your life went wrong, if you felt hurt in your partnership or friendship?
In fairy tales there are king’s sons who go out to seek the water of life. There are three spheres in human beings which have to be transformed if they are to find their true selves. Greek philosophy – like that of Plato – sees the king as the true wise man who knows about ideas. He knows about the heights and depths of life, the mysteries of light and darkness.
The Bible calls Jesus a king only in parables and in the passion story. In the discourse about the judgement of the world Jesus compares himself with the king who says to the sheep “come you blessed of my Father, take as your heritage the kingdom which has been destined for you since the creation of the world” (Matt. 25.34). On the cross above Jesus’ head “an inscription was attached indicating the charge against him.” “This is Jesus, the king of the Jews” (Matt 27.37). The people mocked him as king. “If you are the king of the Jews, then help yourself” (Luke 23.37). For the Romans the title “king” is the reason for executing Jesus; for the Jews it’s the occasion for mocking him. Jesus does not correspond to their image of a king. The Cross puts in question their understanding of what a king is. Jesus isn’t the king the Jews expected.
John shows us in his Gospel how Jesus understands himself as a king. When interrogating Jesus, Pilate puts to him the clear question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (John 18.33). Jesus answered “My kingdom is not of this world. If it was of this world, my people would fight so that I was not handed over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not of this world” (John 18.36).
With these words Jesus interprets his kingship in a completely new way. Jesus is a royal personage, yet his kingdom is not of this world. Jesus has this kingly dignity from God. So no one can dispute his kingship. What Jesus says of himself here is a promise for every Christian. I too can say of myself “My kingdom is not of this world.” There is a sphere in me over which the world has no power. There is a kingly dignity in me which no one can take from me. My “inner kingdom”. Where I am completely myself, I am invulnerable. For there, Christ is in me with his royal power.
The paradox is that it is in his suffering that Jesus speaks of his kingdom. At the very point where Jesus has been condemned, scourged and nailed to the Cross, he is king. So despite all the outward humiliation and hurt Jesus strides through his passion in a sovereign way.
That means that the reality of my own inner kingdom also continues on my way of the Cross. At the very point I am judged and condemned by others, where I am misunderstood, where I am scourged, where I am insulted, made to look ridiculous, there is something in me that no one can hurt. Where I fail, there is something in me that cannot be broken. Even in my dying the divine dignity cannot be taken from me. The knowledge of my kingdom, which is not of this world, continues to work in this world’s freedom, as confidence, as calmness and inner strength which no one can break.
When Pilate asks, “Are you a king then?”, Jesus replies, “it is you who say I am a king. I was born for this, I came into the world for this, to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of the truth listen to my voice.” (John 18.37). Jesus understood his kingship as a testimony to the truth. The Greek image of the king shines out in this saying. Jesus is the king who lifts the veil that lies over reality. He is the wise man who leads us into the truth and who makes us share in his knowledge.
Knowledge comes from seeing. Jesus sees to the heart of things. He looks at human beings from God’s perspective. He knows “what is in man” (John 2.25). His knowledge of the mystery of human beings comes to a climax on the Cross. The Cross is an image for the unity of all opposites. On the Cross Jesus comes into contact with heaven and earth, with light and darkness, with good and evil, with the conscious and unconscious, with woman and man. On the Cross Jesus is initiated into the mystery of God and humankind. On the Cross he is the king who leads us into the truth, who opens our eyes so that we know the ground of all being: God who is love.
For me, (Anselm) Jesus the king is an invitation to discover my own royal dignity and to recognise it particularly in my own suffering, in my weakness and helplessness, in my being nailed to the Cross. Just imagine that in your sickness, in the conflicts of your everyday life, in situations where you feel weak, sensitive, uncertain, there is something you can lay your hands on because it is divine. If that is the case, how would you go through your everyday life, what would you feel about yourself if your boss criticised you, if something in your life went wrong, if you felt hurt in your partnership or friendship?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Jesus who weeps. (Anselm Gruen)
In Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of The Rose, there is a bitter dispute over the question whether Jesus laughed. In our society, so focused on entertainment, that’s no longer an issue. We find it more difficult to accept that Jesus wept. We like to imagine a Jesus who was so much himself, was so filled with God, that nothing shook him or upset his equilibrium. But the Gospels tell us of a Jesus who wept: “As he drew near and came in sight of the city, he wept over it and said, “if you had only recognised on this day what brings you peace. But now it is hidden from your eyes” (Luke 19: 41f.).
Jesus weeps over the fate of Jerusalem. He forsees that this holy city will be destroyed by the Romans. He has taken great trouble to proclaim the kingdom of God to the people of Jerusalem and to summon them to repentance. Yet it has been to no avail. His efforts have been in vain. Jerusalem is the fulfilment of a Jew’s dream. When as a Jew Jesus entered the holy city, his spirit rose. So he is all the more deeply affected when he reflects on the fate of this city. Pagans will destroy the city “and leave no stone standing on another” (Luke 19:44). Jerusalem was blind and didn’t recognise that God himself had visited the city in Jesus. That makes Jesus sad and he weeps over this city. These are tears of sorrow but also tears of helplessness. He senses that his efforts to convert the city were in vain. He can’t get to it, whether through miracles, through words or through his love.
Another time Jesus weeps over Lazarus. Jesus sees how Mary is weeping for her dead brother and how her friends are also weeping. Then “he was greatly disturbed and with a profound sigh he said “where have you put him?” They said “Lord come and see.” Jesus wept. The Jews said “See how he loved him.” (John 11:33-6)
Here we have tears for his friend and tears of compassion for the sisters of his dead friend. And the tears are an expression of his love for Lazarus. Jesus shows his feelings. He is utterly human. He undergoes the pain and grief and doesn’t get over it through hope for the resurrection of Lazarus. And he feels with the sisters of the dead man. Their sorrow sets off his own. Twice it is said in this scene that Jesus was greatly disturbed and sighed profoundly (verses 33 and 38).
The Greek word for indignation used here means that sorrow is mixed with anger. Despite his close relationship with the Father, Jesus feels pain at the loss of a friend. Mourning always means pain and anger at the same time. Here Jesus feels both. The tears are not just tears of compassion but tears of helplessness and anger. Jesus doesn’t close himself to the situation. He is wholly involved in it. He’s affected by the situation of people and reacts with strong feelings that express his humanity.
For Buddha, contact with the world is the ground of all suffering. So he breaks off contact with the world in order to experience inner freedom in laughter. Jesus allows himself to be touched. He endures the suffering. He feels compassion. He weeps because he is affected in his innermost being. The Jesus who weeps is closer to me than Buddha, who cannot be moved and cannot be touched. Jesus also feels with me. And he encourages me to allow the tears which aren’t wept, so that through these tears I come into contact with my heart, in which are love and pain, sorrow and joy. “If you have a heart you can be saved” says Abba Pambo. Jesus had a heart; he invites me to trust my heart and to accept the feelings that are in it.
Questions:
When was the last time that you wept? What happens when you weep? What do you feel when you weep? Are you afraid that if you allow tears to flow they will never stop?
Do you let yourself be touched by the suffering of others? Or do you hide your feelings, so that you seem cool to everyone? The Jesus who weeps invites you to let your tears flow and to trust them. They will lead you through the sorrow to new life.
(Thanks to Continuum for allowing Anselm's material to be posted on this blog.)
Jesus weeps over the fate of Jerusalem. He forsees that this holy city will be destroyed by the Romans. He has taken great trouble to proclaim the kingdom of God to the people of Jerusalem and to summon them to repentance. Yet it has been to no avail. His efforts have been in vain. Jerusalem is the fulfilment of a Jew’s dream. When as a Jew Jesus entered the holy city, his spirit rose. So he is all the more deeply affected when he reflects on the fate of this city. Pagans will destroy the city “and leave no stone standing on another” (Luke 19:44). Jerusalem was blind and didn’t recognise that God himself had visited the city in Jesus. That makes Jesus sad and he weeps over this city. These are tears of sorrow but also tears of helplessness. He senses that his efforts to convert the city were in vain. He can’t get to it, whether through miracles, through words or through his love.
Another time Jesus weeps over Lazarus. Jesus sees how Mary is weeping for her dead brother and how her friends are also weeping. Then “he was greatly disturbed and with a profound sigh he said “where have you put him?” They said “Lord come and see.” Jesus wept. The Jews said “See how he loved him.” (John 11:33-6)
Here we have tears for his friend and tears of compassion for the sisters of his dead friend. And the tears are an expression of his love for Lazarus. Jesus shows his feelings. He is utterly human. He undergoes the pain and grief and doesn’t get over it through hope for the resurrection of Lazarus. And he feels with the sisters of the dead man. Their sorrow sets off his own. Twice it is said in this scene that Jesus was greatly disturbed and sighed profoundly (verses 33 and 38).
The Greek word for indignation used here means that sorrow is mixed with anger. Despite his close relationship with the Father, Jesus feels pain at the loss of a friend. Mourning always means pain and anger at the same time. Here Jesus feels both. The tears are not just tears of compassion but tears of helplessness and anger. Jesus doesn’t close himself to the situation. He is wholly involved in it. He’s affected by the situation of people and reacts with strong feelings that express his humanity.
For Buddha, contact with the world is the ground of all suffering. So he breaks off contact with the world in order to experience inner freedom in laughter. Jesus allows himself to be touched. He endures the suffering. He feels compassion. He weeps because he is affected in his innermost being. The Jesus who weeps is closer to me than Buddha, who cannot be moved and cannot be touched. Jesus also feels with me. And he encourages me to allow the tears which aren’t wept, so that through these tears I come into contact with my heart, in which are love and pain, sorrow and joy. “If you have a heart you can be saved” says Abba Pambo. Jesus had a heart; he invites me to trust my heart and to accept the feelings that are in it.
Questions:
When was the last time that you wept? What happens when you weep? What do you feel when you weep? Are you afraid that if you allow tears to flow they will never stop?
Do you let yourself be touched by the suffering of others? Or do you hide your feelings, so that you seem cool to everyone? The Jesus who weeps invites you to let your tears flow and to trust them. They will lead you through the sorrow to new life.
(Thanks to Continuum for allowing Anselm's material to be posted on this blog.)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)