Scriptural Maunderings

I’ve long considered doing a series of posts on scriptural readings from the Sunday Masses I go to at our local Episcopal Church.

Part of it is to explore how I deal with the Bible. I don’t see it as the inerrantly dictated Word of God, perfect and complete in every jot and tittle.  But, lacking that, how do I deal with its seamy side, its contradictions, the challenges it raises? How does it relate to my life?  Do I have a coherent theology? Am I just picking and choosing what makes me comfortable? Can one actually find lessons worth finding in Scripture while rejecting what seems horrid to modern eyes?

If the Bible is the fundamental document of Christianity, figuring out what it means to me, what resonates, what I reject, what makes sense, what doesn’t, seems to be a key requirement for me to figure out what I do believe, and why, if I am going to call myself a Christian.

The Episcopal Church uses the Revised Common Lectionary, and the Bible in the NRSV translation.  We do readings (usually) from the Old Testament, the Psalms, the Epistles, and the Gospel.  I’ll be skipping the Psalms in these posts (assuming there’s more than just this one), because they constitute a very different sort of message, one far less amenable at times to analysis.

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So … this Sunday in Scripture.

Old Testament: Jeremiah 2:4-13

Not much to say here. Jeremiah is being Jeramiah, and unleashing a Jeramiad against Israel for ignoring what God has told them.  Ho-hum.  The whole  history of Israel going through cycles of Faith and Faithlessness is, honestly, a bit of a bore to me, if only because it smacks of revisionist thinking (“We’re having troubles, the Lord must be angry, therefore we did something wrong”).

The only bit of interest here is the Lord complaining (through Jeremiah) that it’s not just that the Israelites are being faithless, but that they’re hanging out and worshiping other gods (already monotheistically noted here as “even  though they are no gods”).  This, apparently, just Wasn’t Done in the Middle East at the time.  Each tribe had its gods, and mixing and mingling demonstrated a lack of tribal unity.

Oh, and God would get mighty ticked off.

Epistle: Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

(It’s worth noting that pretty much all Biblical scholars who are willing to look at the Bible critically agree that Hebrews was not written by Paul.  For what it’s worth.)

There’s some very good stuff here.  Paul (or the author) reinforce all sorts of fine social behavior — hospitality, marital fidelity, etc.   Modern-day followers of American homeland security and justice system polciies might want to note (emphasis mine):

Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured.

The author here doesn’t distinguish between good prisoners and bad prisoners, between the guilty being tortured and the innocent.  We are all meant to keep in mind, and empathize with all those who are subject to civil (or military) punishment — a theme that Jesus spoke to more than once in the Gospels.

The author also notes that Christ’s followers should also “Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have. … Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”  Hard lessons for folks like me who love the comforts and goodies that money brings — but lessons that we need to hear.  Too many people out there not only love money, but treat its acquisition as the highest goal (and, paradoxically, as a marker of God’s favor).

Needless to say, “share what you have” is treated as socialistic propaganda when said by anyone other than the Bible.  There it’s just ignored.

The Gospel:  Luke 14:1, 7-14

Jesus’ story here is much in line with the Epistle.  (Emphasis mine.)

When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Humility and lack of arrogance and self-aggrandized authority are a large part of Jesus’ message — regardless of which, too many people speaking in his name use it to glorify themselves, and to stand in judgment of others.  It is, perhaps, an inevitable result of Christianity being mixed up in the realm of temporal power, either governmental or social or both.  But it’s clearly not what the Jesus recorded in the Gospels intended.

And, as we head toward elections here in the US, a thought that might be applicable to all those fat-cat fundraisers (of either party) (emphasis mine):

He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

A lesson in hospitality (and social justice) that everyone, myself included, might consider.

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I’m not sure if, or how often, I’ll continue this series.  But I hope I will.