Going to Extremes

The scriptures referred to are 2 Samuel 11:1-15, Ephesians 3:14-21, and John 6:1-21.

C.S. Lewis wrote, “It seems to me that one can say hardly anything either good enough or bad enough about life.” And indeed we live with that paradox. This is a world where a small political party took over a nation and managed to murder 6 million Jews as well as a world in which over 26,000 Gentiles saved hundreds of thousands of Jews during that same period. And at least 4 of those Gentile rescuers were German officers, according to the Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Israel. We have a world with police officers who shoot unarmed men and with police officers who give their lives to protect others. We have a world where people do horrible things to children and where people dedicate their lives to rescuing and helping those children. We have a world where evil people sometimes escape justice and where good people suffer.

We see examples of the two extremes in today's lectionary. David uses his power as king to take advantage of the wife of Uriah the Hittite, one of his military officers. We know that Uriah was a member of David's royal guard. Though a Hittite, it looks as if he converted to the Hebrew faith because his name, Uriah, means “Yahweh is my light.” When David gets Uriah's wife pregnant, to cover up his adultery, he calls Uriah home, gets him drunk and tries to get him to go home and sleep with his wife. But because of the man's nobility and solidarity with his fellow soldiers, that deception doesn't work. So David plots the perfect murder: death on the battlefield. He actually has Uriah deliver the sealed orders for his death. He has Uriah put on the front line and then has the troops withdraw and leave him to die. It is a betrayal of a loyal soldier, a betrayal of his position as king of Israel and a betrayal of his status as God's chosen.

On the other end, we see David's descendant, Jesus, looking at a crowd of at least 5000 hungry people with compassion, and using his power to feed them. The contrast between the king and the Messiah could not be more pronounced. One man decrees death, the other gives life. One acts out of selfishness and the other out of altruism. One goes against God's law and one fulfills God's will. And we see examples of similar behavior all the time.

But a more disturbing thing happens when a person deals in deceit and doles out death in the name of God. What are we to make of that?

Dr. Jason Bivins, in his Great Courses lectures entitled Thinking About Religion and Violence, points out that often when we see religious violence it is during a time of rapid social change. Cultures and world views are colliding. Remember that religion includes beliefs, behaviors and belonging. During such a societal upheaval, some fervent believers feel their world, their group and their identity are being attacked, if not physically, then ideologically. Truth and purity are being compromised. As theologian Paul Tillich pointed out religion is about ultimate values. You don't get worked up about attacks on something you don't value much. But when you see an attack on something important or even essential to who you are, you rush to defend it. So perpetrators of religious violence see their actions as defensive, not as unprovoked aggression.

All religions have in their sacred texts some passages that can be used to justify violence in certain circumstances. Scholars can tell which passages in the Quran were written when Mohammed had the support of Christians and Jews (he was promoting monotheism in a polytheistic culture) and when he was running into their opposition (Christians and Jews were not, however, going to convert to Islam). The passages in the Bible describing the Israelites conquering and establishing themselves in the land of Canaan and the passages describing them fighting for their existence when threatened by the more powerful empires surrounding them are chilling in their invocation of holy war and wholesale slaughter. These passages are usually those that Christians cited in calling European princes to go on crusades against Muslims and in cleansing the new world of Native Americans.

And that is wrong, not just morally but also theologically. We do not live under the Old Covenant enacted for Iron Age theocratic Israel. We live under the New Covenant, inaugurated by Jesus, who told his followers to put up the sword, turn the other cheek and to love their enemies. (Matthew 26:52; 5:38-48) How can any Christian go against Jesus' explicit commands to love and not to harm others?

Well, as moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt points out, people tend to be most irrational about the things they value the most. Thus hard core gun rights advocates tend to act as if the 2^nd Amendment right to bear arms is unique in that there should be no serious restrictions on it. Yet our 1^st Amendment right to free speech does not allow me to incite people to riot, to falsely shout “Fire!” in crowded places such as this church, nor to engage in libel or slander. Gun advocates oppose the kind of common sense restrictions we put on the dangerous activity of driving a several thousand pound vehicle through public streets, though cars and trucks were not designed to kill and maim, and guns intentionally are. Similarly certain abortion rights advocates oppose things like parental notification when a minor gets an abortion, though it is an invasive procedure. Like all such medical procedures even legal abortions can have complications which parents may want to know about lest they find their daughter bleeding out and can't tell the folks in the ER why. And pro-choice advocates rarely confront the fact that, yeah, if you don't terminate the fetus it will naturally become a human being with rights of its own. There is a legitimate question here with no easy answers but which needs to be discussed. I'm not for abolishing guns or abortions but both of these issues are a lot more complicated than their advocates will admit. Remember what Dr. Bivins said about purity? The flaws in these positions are a refusal to compromise and to acknowledge that these rights are not and should not be absolute.

As we have recently pointed out in these sermons, there is a hierarchy of moral values. Just as breaking the law against littering is not legally as serious as murder, so violations of certain moral laws are not as severe as violations of more primary commands. And Jesus put at the center the commandments to love God and to love other human beings. He said no other commandment superseded these two. And they are connected. Humans are created in the image of God. That's why, God tells Noah, that murder is wrong. (Genesis 9:6) And logically proceeding from that principle, mistreatment of anyone is wrong. Jesus says what we do or fail to do for those in distress we do or neglect to do to him. Loving your neighbor is a way of showing God your love for him.

But what if the two conflict? What if loving God means opposing something your neighbor is doing? What if your neighbor is unequivocally demonstrating hatred for God or for persons created in his image? If he is breaking the law, report it. If it's legal but a moral and personal transgression, Jesus gives us ways of handling that. In Matthew, Jesus says, “If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that 'every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.' If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.” (Matthew 18:15-17)

Note a few things. First, Jesus says this applies if the person sins against you. He doesn't say, “if the person's speech, behavior or lifestyle upsets you.” Jesus is not talking about taking offense nor is he giving the bystander an excuse to act if outraged. He is speaking to the person who was actually injured by the sin. The person who is sinned against should be proactive in seeking reconciliation. (We are talking about equals here. This doesn't apply if the victim is a child and the offender an adult or if the offender has all the power in the relationship.)

Ideally the first move should be to settle the matter one on one. Rather than going online or gossiping to friends, see if you can't work things out and get him to admit his misstep. Because the purpose, according to Jesus, is to win the person back and repair the relationship. Only if the person won't listen do you involve others and then just 1 or 2 at most. Jesus cites Deuteronomy 19:15, which requires at least two witnesses to verify something. They can see to it that both people are acting in good faith and approaching things in the right spirit. If the person who has sinned will not listen even to the extra witness or two, only then do you bring things up to the congregation. If the person still will not come around, then he is to be excommunicated. Not harassed, not attacked, just left out of the community. There is no justification here for dealing violently with those who are seen as violating the truth or purity of the community.

In Luke, we read this exchange: “'Master,' said John, 'we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we tried to stop him, because he is not one of us.'

'Do not stop him,' Jesus said, 'for whoever is not against you is for you.'” (Luke 9:49-50)

What if this were the attitude during the Reformation? It could have prevented the Thirty Years War. What if our denominations used this principle in dealing with each other? What if we recognized the good work others were doing in Jesus' name despite disagreeing with them on key matters? Jesus didn't say that the world would know us to be his disciples because we agreed on everything. He said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:35) Getting along with someone even when we don't always agree with them is a sign we genuinely love them.

Ok, so we are to love other Christians, despite our disagreements; what about non-Christians? Is there anything that tells us we must love them as well?

After discussing the two great commandments, Jesus is asked, “And who is my neighbor?” And he tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. His audience was Jewish and they thought the Samaritans were half-breed heretics. But Jesus made one the hero of his story. (Luke 10:25-37) His point is your neighbor is whomever you encounter, whether they are of your faith or not, or of your race or not, or of your country or not. And indeed Jesus offers salvation to Samaritans (John 4:1-42) and heals Gentiles (Matthew 15:21-28; Luke 7:1-10). He tells the apostles to be his witnesses “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) He commissions them to go and make disciples of all nations. (Matthew 28:19-20) And in the most famous verse in the New Testament, and arguably in the Bible, John 3:16, we are told that “God so loved the world...” Not just some parts of the world or a few people in it but the world. If God loves the people of the world, who are we to hate any of them or use violence on any of them?

In fact it bothers me when people speak of violence as the result of religious extremism. Violence is not the result of being extremely religious. It is the result of filtering out every bit of a religion that forbids you from being violent and concentrating on the few parts that you can use to justify your behavior. Did you know the Quran forbids terrorism? The word used is hirabah, which means “unlawful warfare” and encompasses robbery, rape and terrorism. (Surah al-Ma'ida 5:33-34) Did you know Islam forbids killing non-combatants? 'Abu Bakr al-Siddig, the first Caliph or successor to Mohammad, told his army, “Do not kill women, children, the old or the infirm...do not destroy any town...” Sneak attacks are forbidden as is doing anything other than fighting a war in self-defense. Also the Quran says, “There is no compulsion in religion.” (The Cow 2:256) You can't force conversions. Terrorists who say they are Muslims have to disobey those parts of Islam.

Why don't we instead refer to people who actually do what Jesus told them to do as “religious extremists?” You know, people who feed the hungry and clothe the threadbare and welcome the alien and take care of the sick and and give self-sacrificially and turn the other cheek and forgive their enemies and make peace and show mercy and do those things that most people, including most so-called Christians, don't do. Why are they not as newsworthy as those who do the opposite of what Jesus said to do? If the news is what is unusual, what doesn't  happen all the time, then Christians who are trying to be truly Christlike in their thoughts, words and deeds should be in the headlines. People disobeying Jesus and twisting his words to justify what they would do anyway are everyday phenomena, not news.

So, too, what David did was evil but sadly, not unprecedented. The (non-magical) awful things that happen in Game of Thrones were often based on historical events. Kings and emperors frequently killed those who got in their way and just as often were killed by people wanting their thrones. Humans have spent way too much brain power coming up with ways to torture and kill their fellow humans. Unwanted populations have been discriminated against, persecuted, put in camps or just killed, even in this country. And governments and criminals have been co-opting religion to rally people to causes whose ends have nothing to do with God's will. I have yet to see a religious war that ended with the change of an article of belief. In the end it is all about power and territory. But politicians and cult leaders know that by somehow tying their cause to God, they can get the support of uncritical folks whose religion is more a matter of culture and identity.

Recently we talked about disordered loves. I doubt David was in love with Bathsheba at this point, just in lust. But his love of his reputation and his position and his life (remember the penalty for adultery then was being stoned to death) overrode his love for his friend and for God. In contrast Jesus' love for the world outweighed his love for his own life. And those who, like David, loved their position and popularity and safety more than God or any human being, decided Jesus was a threat to all that and killed him. In the name of God. So Jesus was the victim of religious violence. Never forget that.

The world is full of people who do a lot of harm and people who do a lot of good, as well as a bunch of people who don't do much either way. That last group is the one who lets those who do great harm get away with it and who keeps them in power. So they are also part of the problem. Jesus calls us to be part of the solution. We need to go the second mile, to repay evil with good, to do more than the bare minimum of just being nice. As Paul writes in today's reading from Ephesians, “I pray that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ...” Everything we do should be grounded in love. And not just love for ourselves and ours. It is to be as wide and long and high and deep as Jesus' love. When you have come to know this love, you will understand that there can be no justification to harm anyone. Jesus gives us no choice but to love each other, no matter how unlovable, and help one another, no matter how hard. Because that's what he does for us.

Out of the Box

The scriptures referred to are 2 Samuel 7:1-14a, Ephesians 2:11-22, 3:14-21.

I was watching my granddaughter at church one day and she pulled out some of our children's books of Bible stories and I was reading them to her. When I told her that Jesus died on a cross, she looked at the one over our altar and I quickly added, “No, not that one. We have that to remember what he did for us.” But I didn't want to leave the story there so I said, “But Jesus didn't stay dead; he's alive.” Her eyes got big and she said, “Where is he? Outside?” And suddenly I'm trying to adapt the very sophisticated theology of God's omnipresence in the world and Jesus' presence in our lives to the level of a 4 year old.

It's hard for humans to think outside the confines of their own experience. We are physical beings living in a physical world. Even when we acknowledge the spiritual side of things, we tend to think of God as, say, a man with a long white beard, sitting on a literal throne, surrounded by clouds. As adults we might recognize these images as metaphorical but children might not. And the idea of God being located in a specific physical place is not alien to them.

It wasn't to the Israelites either. Now it made sense for pagan religions who made idols of stone or wood to build them houses to live in and function as shrines. Yet despite their unique conception of a God who cannot and should not be depicted, the Israelites did tend to locate him in space, specifically the sacred space of the tabernacle, a portable sanctuary. Part of this was the fact that it housed the ark of the covenant. It was called that because this box contained the the tablets of the 10 commandments Moses received on Mt. Sinai, the core of the covenant or agreement God made with his people. The lid, adorned with two sculpted golden cherubim, was called the mercy seat. (Yes, it looked almost exactly like the one in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Good job, propmakers!) God would meet with Moses there (Exodus 25:22) and thus the tabernacle was called the Tent of Meeting. The people understandably thought the invisible God dwelt between the two cherubim. (2 Kings 19:15) Consequently the ark was variously called God's throne, with the idea that God was seated on the wings of the cherubim (Isaiah 37:16: 1 Samuel 4:4), or alternately his footstool, with the idea that heaven was God's throne. (Psalm 132:7-8; Isaiah 66:1) When the people were wandering through the wilderness, the ark was a mobile reminder of God's presence. It was carried into battle during the conquest of the land of Canaan.

In our passage from 2 Samuel, David has finished the conquest of the land begun under Joshua hundreds of years before. He has gone from being king of Judah to king of all Israel. He has captured Jerusalem and made it his capitol. He has brought the ark of the covenant into Jerusalem but it is still in a tent. Just as David is enjoying rest in a house of beautiful, aromatic, and durable cedar from which he can rule the land, he wishes to build a fine house for God to rest and do the same. But God says no. God will build a house for David. He means, of course, a royal dynasty. David's son will build a physical house for the Lord but God says he will establish a throne and a kingdom for the house of David that will last forever. Later David says that the reason God did not let him build the temple was that “you are a warrior and have shed blood.” (1 Chronicles 28:3)

Some people have doubts about everything in the Bible, including the fact that David ever lived. Some skeptics have thought him to be the equivalent of Britain's King Arthur, a legendary figure. But in 1993 and 1994 archaeologists found a stele, a stone erected by the king of Aram to commemorate a victory over the kings of Israel and Judah (2 Kings 8:28-29). It mentions 8 Biblical kings and the House of David. Most archaeologists accept this as evidence David did exist.

Why did they doubt this? Besides the general tendency of secular scholars to assume that, unlike most other ancient documents, the Bible is false until proven true,  there is the disappearance of the Davidic dynasty. In 586 B.C. the Babylonians destroyed the temple built by Solomon and either took or melted down the ark of the covenant within it. And ever since they took the Jews into exile in Babylon, there hasn't been a king of the House of David on the throne. The king at the time of the fall of Jerusalem, Zedekiah, was captured and taken to Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon. His sons were executed before his eyes and then his eyes were put out. He was put in prison in Babylon, where presumably he died. The remaining king of the House of David was Jehoiachin, Zedekiah's nephew, who had been deposed and taken into exile earlier. Zedekiah had been appointed in his place as a puppet. The last paragraph of the book of 2 Kings tells us how, in the 37^th year of his captivity, Jehoiachin was released from prison and allowed to eat at the table of the successor to Nebuchadnezzar. Which makes it sound like there is hope for a future king from the line of David.

And indeed a descendant of David returns to Jerusalem after the exile. Zerubbabel was a leader of some kind, possibly a governor of Judea for the Persians, and he laid the foundation for the second temple, but he is never called a king, nor are his descendants. By the time of Jesus, under Roman occupation, there were people of David's bloodline but the royal dynasty was that of Herod the Great. Herod was chosen by the Roman senate as King of the Jews, replacing the kings descended from the priestly family that led the Maccabean revolt. Herod's family were Edomites who converted to Judaism but the Jews never really accepted him as one of them.

So you can see the reason why people were so excited about Jesus. Here was a descendant of David, who was also healing people like the prophet Elisha. Surely he was the the Messiah! Which in popular belief meant that, as David drove out the Philistine oppressors of Israel, the Messiah would drive out the Romans. What they never suspected was that Jesus was not there to make up for a lack of a holy warrior but for the lack of a holy space where God dwells. Jesus is not replacing David so much as the presence of God, symbolized by ark of the covenant which was missing from the second temple.

This is the significance of Jesus' prediction of the destruction of the temple. Jesus says, “Destroy this temple and I will raise it again in three days.” His critics took this to mean Herod's renovated and expanded temple. But John's gospel tells us he was talking about his own body. (John 2:19-22)

The temple was thought to be the place where God dwelt on earth. It was where humans met with God. Once a year on the Day of Atonement, the high priest entered the Holy of Holies, the place where the ark was supposed to be, and would sprinkle the blood of the sacrifice for the sins of the people. But ever since the first temple was destroyed there was no ark, just empty space. In place of God's presence there was a void. Jesus came to fill that void in the world.

The people didn't need a new David. Remember how God wouldn't let him build a temple because he was a warrior? They didn't need a warrior. They had warriors: the zealots. People like Barabbas. People like his comrades, who were also crucified on Good Friday. The zealots rebelled in 66 AD and the Romans burned the second temple, never to be rebuilt. In 132 A.D. Simon Bar Kokhba was declared the Messiah by Rabbi Akiva and led a revolt that once again was quashed by the Romans. Violence was not the answer, nor were the Romans the real enemy. Jesus correctly identified the enemy: the evil in our hearts that give rise to things like greed, arrogance and murder. (Mark 7:20-23) Violence doesn't and can't make that better. We need a change of heart.

The Bible says, “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself....” (2 Corinthians 5:19) “...in him all the fullness of God lives in bodily form...” it says elsewhere. (Colossians 2:9) Jesus is God among us. That's what we need. God here, living with us. A God we can meet with, talk to. A God who will accompany us through whatever conflicts and troubles we encounter and protect us with his presence. Jesus came to replace the ark and the temple as the place where heaven and earth meet.

But Jesus no longer dwells among us in bodily form. At least not as he did in the first century. Throughout the Old Testament God promises he will dwell among his people. (Exodus 29:45-46; Leviticus 26:11; 1 Kings 6:13; Ezekiel 37:27; Zechariah 2:10) But not in the way he did during the time of the ark and the temple. And not exactly as he did in Jesus. In Isaiah we read, “For thus says the high and exalted one who lives forever, whose name is holy, 'I dwell on a high and holy place, and also with the contrite and lowly of spirit in order to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.'” (Isaiah 57:15) The way to get the evil out of our hearts is to let God in.

Paul tells the Ephesians that he prays that they may be “strengthened with his power through his Spirit in your inner being that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith....” Through the Spirit of God who empowered Jesus in his earthly ministry, Jesus comes to live in our hearts. Since God is within us, we, like the ark of the covenant, are to serve as God's presence in this world. As Paul writes, “...your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you...” (1 Corinthians 6:19) He returns to that idea in today's passage from Ephesians. He speaks of being “built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

We look at this world, the suffering of people, especially at the hand of their fellow human beings, and we ask: Where is God? Why is he not acting? But if we understand the divine plan laid out in the Bible , the question rebounds on us. Where are we, the people on whom God has poured his Spirit? Why is not the church, the body of Christ, acting?

It is, of course. The church builds and run schools and hospitals, homeless shelters and feeding programs; it hosts 12-step programs and grieving groups; it helps in disasters and advocates for the most vulnerable. But not all who call themselves Christian are acting in love toward others. As of 2010, 2.2 billion people, 31% of the world's population, claim to be Christian. That should be enough to make this world better. Why doesn't it?

I am reminded of what President Kennedy said in his inaugural address: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” It works the same in the church. I think too many people in church are focused almost exclusively on what God can do for them and hardly at all on what they can do for God. Thus the churches viewed as successful in the world's eyes are those that entertain churchgoers during worship and emphasize feeling good about yourself and bettering your material and financial circumstances. They turn God into a vending machine: insert tokens of faith and push the buttons to get what you want. And if you ask me at least part of the problem we have with people leaving the churches is that that it was easy to believe that “feel good” gospel when times were good and harder now that times aren't so good.

The megachurches do not emphasize what Jesus said about being a disciple of his, ie, disowning yourself, taking up your cross daily and following him. (Luke 9:23) The Christian life is less like winning the lottery and more like being soldiers on a mission. Remember the Israelites took the ark of the covenant into battle. We are to take the presence of God in Christ into the battlegrounds of everyday life. But our weapons do not include violence or coercion. David couldn't build a temple because he shed the blood of others. Jesus' blood was shed by others and as Paul says, “...you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.” Paul is talking about the Jews and the Gentiles but it is true of any two groups at odds with each other. Jesus came to bring peace to a conflicted world as well as to our conflicted hearts. And as the body of Christ we need to work for and bring that peace to others.

The ark of the covenant brings to mind the TARDIS on Doctor Who. It is the Doctor's vehicle for traveling through time and space, disguised as police call box from the 1960s, a blue telephone booth. The feature that strikes everyone upon entering this blue box is that it is much bigger on the inside. It is a paradox. Just so, the Jews knew that Yahweh was not just their tribal God or the God of their land but the creator of heaven and earth. So they had to know that God could not really fit between the cherubim on a 4 foot by 2 foot box, nor even in the grandest of temples. What was inside was bigger than the outside led you to believe.

And if God is in us, that means what is in us is bigger than us. How is that possible? God is love and real love can't be contained. Love overflows. Love takes you out of yourself. Love enables you to do things you didn't realize you could do. I had a coworker who fainted at the sight of blood. Even his own. He passed out when giving blood at an event our radio station was sponsoring. So when he found his girlfriend on the floor of their bathroom one night, blood all over the floor, and he managed to get her to the hospital, we knew it was real love. And sure enough, they married, and have a son who is going to college. They send me a family newsletter every Christmas. Love is power. Love enlarges you.

You could look at our mission as taking the love that everyone has—for themselves, for their family or friends, for the people who they like and the people like them—and encouraging them to enlarge it. Make the circle of those you love bigger. Make it encompass those who are unlike you, those who disagree with you, even those who oppose you. Is that hard? Yeah. Can you do it? Not by yourself. Contrary to the popular saying, God does give us more than we can handle: more than we can handle by ourselves. But as Paul said, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13) We can handle anything through the big God who lives in us and works through us. As Paul says, “By the power at work within us [he] is able to accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or imagine.” (Ephesians 3:20) You know what that means? We need to expand our imagination. We need to think bigger. Jesus said we would do greater works than he did. (John 14:12) Let's get on that! There is a void in the world where God's presence should be. Jesus came to fill it and now Jesus works in and through us. We are his body. We are temples of God's Spirit, “a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” (2 Timothy 1:7) What's stopping us?

At the Heart of It All

The scriptures referred to are Mark 6:14-29.

One of the lecture series I'm listening to through The Great Courses is “Moral Decision Making: How to Approach Everyday Ethics.” The second lecture is called, “Is it Ever Permissible to Lie?” And Dr. Clancy Martin uses a story that heightens the stakes. You answer your door to frantic knocking and see that it is an old man bleeding heavily. He says he is being chased by a woman who is trying to kill him. You let him inside but before you can call 911 you hear more knocking. This time it is a woman carrying a bloody ax. She asks if there is a bleeding old man in your house. Because, she says, she intends to kill him. Do you lie to her?

Almost everyone would say “Yes!” And most of the philosophers Dr. Martin discusses would see lying justified in this case. But I was surprised to find that a couple of philosophers, including Immanuel Kant, felt that you must never lie. Truth is too important a value and, besides, you are depriving the woman of information she needs to make a valid moral choice!

This situation may sound absurd but it happens in real life. Corrie Ten Boom's entire family hid Jews from the Nazis during World War 2. Corrie deceived the authorities, forged ration cards and otherwise circumvented the law. Her brother and his wife also hid Jews at their house. But when the S.S. came and asked if there were Jews in the house, Corrie's sister-in-law did not think it was Christian to lie. So she told them, “Yes, they are under the table.” The Nazis lifted the tablecloth and saw no one and Corrie's sister-in-law began to laugh. They dismissed her as crazy and left. But the woman had told the truth. There were Jews hidden under the table. Under the rug under the table. Under the trapdoor in the floor covered by the rug. The hidden Hebrews were lucky the authorities weren't more imaginative or more precise in their questioning.

Nobody should break laws willy-nilly or discard rules whenever it suits them. Rules and laws are, or should be, attempts to make the world more just and fair. But we all know of instances where following the letter of the law can lead to injustice. We all remember how in 2012 a lifeguard on Hallandale Beach was fired for saving a man's life. Tomas Lopez left his station and saved a man who was drowning outside his designated zone. He was fired, his supervisor said, due to liability issues! Apparently a lifeguard watching passively while a man dies is legally more acceptable.

Jesus encountered this often whenever he was attacked for healing people on the Sabbath. Evidently the Pharisees considered it work, though Jesus never used his building tools in healing, never constructed anything in the process nor did he ever get paid for his healings. Jesus pointed out that, first, he was doing good on the Sabbath, not evil (Luke 6:9), secondly, God was at work on the Sabbath (John 5:16-17) and, thirdly, the Sabbath was made for man's benefit, not vice versa (Mark 2:27). But more importantly, he pointed out that his critics would technically violate the Sabbath should one of their livestock fall down a well. (Matthew 12:11-12) In other words, saving a life and restoring a living being to health outweighed the other moral considerations. And indeed, modern Orthodox Judaism recognizes this principle. In fact, an observant Jew can violate any of the 613 commandments found in the Torah, except idolatry and murder, if it is necessary to save a life. So, for instance, rabbis do not condemn those Jews hidden from the Nazis for eating the non-Kosher food provided by their Gentile rescuers.

In most ethical systems there is a hierarchy of values. While ideally, you observe all the rules of the moral code, wise thinkers realize that sometimes we find ourselves in circumstances where two moral values clash. In that case, the rule you follow is the one which has primacy. In healthcare, we follow the principle laid down in the 3^rd century B.C. by the Greek physician Hippocrates, summarized later as “First, do no harm.” In other words, there are times where there is great risk of harming a patient by following a certain course of treatment but relatively little chance of it doing good. In such cases, the doctor is to restrain himself rather than make the patient worse.

And I like that Hippocrates distinguished between harm and hurt. Sometimes to make a patient better you may have to cause them pain. Say someone broke his leg hiking and was found after 2 days and the doctor sees that the bones have begun to reknit themselves but out of alignment. He may have to re-break the leg to get everything back in position so it will heal properly and the person will be able to walk again. Any pain he is causing the patient is outweighed by the function he is restoring to the person's leg. Again preventing and alleviating pain is a value we in healthcare strive to uphold, especially unnecessary pain, and of course the doctor would use something to kill the pain before re-breaking the leg, but if there is a conflict between preventing pain and preventing harm, the latter consideration is more vital.

The Jews of the first century A.D. also realized there must be a hierarchy of values even in an ethical system given by God through Moses and asked Jesus for his opinion about which of the 613 commandments was the greatest. (Matthew 22:36-39) Jesus said the command to love God with all we are and have was the prime commandment. But then, unasked, he threw in the second most important one: to love one's neighbor as one loved oneself. Jesus said all the other commandments are derived from these two (Matthew 22:40) and that no other commandment could usurp these from their positions at the apex of the moral hierarchy. (Mark 12:31)

And yet there are people who call themselves Christian who forget this. They think that breaking any one of the rules in the Bible, like, say, women not covering their hair, or worse yet, rules that aren't actually in the Bible, like any prohibition concerning birth control, are just as important as the commandment to love everyone, if not more so. That's tantamount to confusing a misdemeanor with a felony.

Recently a megachurch censured a group of women for announcing to the media the sexual misconduct of their superstar preacher. The elders said the women should have let the discipline be handled in-house. But they had gone to the elders and nothing was being done. These things had been going on for years and various people in the church had tried to get the matters dealt with to no avail. The elders told the women that for them to go public would be “unbiblical.” And when the allegation surfaced the elders said the women were lying and the superstar preacher was innocent. However as more allegations came out, eventually the elders reversed themselves. But in all of this, they were more concerned about the preacher's reputation (and the church's) than the well-being of the women he had sexually assaulted.

We see this in our society, where some people have said they see no problem with separating foreign children from their parents, though being in this country illegally is only a misdemeanor. Should we start taking kids away from their parents if they get a parking ticket? No. Because usually we believe the punishment should fit, not exceed, the seriousness of the crime.

I once had an otherwise friendly home healthcare patient rail at me one day because my church has a headquarters! I don't know where she got this, though I knew her church met in her home. But this was a big issue to her apparently. Finally I said to her, “Myrtle, my salvation doesn't depend on whether my church has a headquarters or not. It depends on Jesus: who he is, what he has done for us and what my response to him is.” And, thankfully, she was well-informed enough in theology that she knew it was true. My church headquarters never came up again.

If your moral code (or belief system) is made up of things that are all of equal importance then it will have the same weakness as a chain. Break one link and you've broken the whole thing. Often when people leave their faith it is because they were raised with and taught such a undifferentiated conception of morality or beliefs. And when they face an ethical conflict that goes against just one thing, such as their sibling or child comes out as gay, or they themselves break a rule, the whole thing comes apart and their faith is shattered.

You've probably heard me compare our faith to a bicycle wheel. There are things which are essential. They are part of the hub and must be central for the thing to work properly. Then there are things which are important but not essential. They are like the spokes. You can't get anywhere without some spokes but the number can vary and on rare occasions you may have to change a spoke. And finally there are things that are neither essential nor important. They are like the tire, which not only can be changed but periodically has to be.

When it comes to Christian ethics, Jesus has told us that at the center of our behavior must be our love of God and our love of other people, including our enemies. There are also very important expressions of that love which should radiate from it: doing God's will, taking up your cross, not putting things like money above God, not murdering, not committing adultery, not stealing, not slandering, not being greedy or arrogant, praying for those who persecute you, giving to the poor, feeding the hungry, taking care of the sick, welcoming the alien, visiting the prisoner, taking care of your parents, etc. Other things fall to the periphery: exactly how we worship, precisely how we organize a church (like where we put its headquarters or if we have one), our particular way of dressing for worship, specifically how we respond to new technology or to cultural changes, and so on.

Now how does this relate to our lectionary reading? In our gospel we read of the dismaying circumstances of the death of John the Baptist. And it is at least partially because Herod does not seem to understand the hierarchy of moral values. He makes a rash promise and then when his step-daughter makes an outrageous request, he finds himself in a dilemma. She wants John's head. Herod doesn't want John dead. He liked to listen to the prophet. We are told, “The king was deeply grieved, yet out of regard for his oath and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her.” (Mark 6:26) There are some Near-Eastern customs involved here. Herod has given his word. Your word is your bond. It is an honor/shame culture. He doesn't want to break his word or lose face before his guests. And those are very strong factors in that culture. On the other hand, a man's life is at stake. In the end, we see what is more important to Herod.

In Catholic ethics they talk of disordered loves. It's not so much that the loves are wrong but that we often put them in the wrong order in our personal hierarchy of values. For instance when you betray secrets which a friend confided in you so that you may have some gossip to share with others, you show that you value your love of popularity over your love of your friend. Now we can't say that John was Herod's friend but obviously Herod valved how he looked to his guests, and possibly staying on the good side of his wife, over the life of John.

We often see that leaders in this world value other things over human life: money, power, their image as a tough guy, the privilege of one group, racial purity, and/or campaign promises. And believe it or not, elected officials hate breaking those promises. According to the statistics and analysis site, fivethirtyeight.com, studying the years between 1944 and 1999, presidents have kept on average 67% of their promises. The site said that when they didn't, it was usually because of changing circumstances. And that's true of all of us. “Sorry, kids. We know we promised you a trip to Disneyland but Dad got laid off. We have to change our plans.” Jesus talked about the king who counts the cost, realizes he can't defeat a superior army and negotiates a peace instead. But that's because he can't win. You never hear of a leader refraining from a war because people will get killed. Especially if they figure most of the people killed will be enemies.

But John, in his prison, could do little to harm Herod. The ruler had all the power. And he could have said to his step-daughter, “No! That's grotesque! I am not ending a man's life on your whim. Pick something else.” But he didn't want to break his promise even to save a life. Herod's moral priorities were all wrong.

In this life we will find ourselves facing moral dilemmas, situations in which 2 ethical values clash. Our friends, to whom we want to say “yes,” may want to do something that is dangerous, to which we should say “no.” Our company, to which we owe loyalty and from which we and our coworkers derive our living, may be secretly doing wrong, which we should either stop or else blow the whistle on. We may discover one friend cheating on his or her spouse, who is also a friend. One day we may face having a loved one in the end stages of a terminal disease, and the choice will be whether to keep them alive longer by heroic and probably uncomfortable measures or to end their suffering by letting the person we love go. These are difficult decisions. And if we don't have a hierarchy of values to start from, these choices will be even more painful.

Jesus gave us a beginning and a foundation: love God first and love people next. Put them above our feelings for stuff like money, power, and material things. We need to put God and people ahead of things like popularity, revenge, being seen as right, and seeing others as tools for us to manipulate for our own ends. We must love persons and not things. And we must not treat people as if they were things. In all we do, we need to put the love of God and the well-being of people foremost. We must treat all people with love and not just those we like or who are like us.

Even if we build on what Jesus laid down for us, it won't make all moral dilemmas go away. After all, at the heart of our faith is God dealing with a huge dilemma: what to do with a world of people he loves who keep harming each other, themselves and their relationship with him. He made the excruciating decision to absorb the brunt on the harm himself through the person of his Son and then the gracious decision to spread spiritual healing through his Spirit dwelling in those who respond to the gospel.

We live in a complex and fallen world. There is no “one size fits all” solution to all our problems, not even our moral problems. But love goes a long way. As it says in 1 Peter 4:8, "Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins." Not all but a multitude. So based on what Jesus said and did, here's a rule of thumb: When in doubt, do the most loving thing.

Thorn In The Flesh

The scriptures referred to are 2 Corinthians 12:2-10.

It has been a few years since I first heard the term “humblebrag.” It is defined by dictionary.com as “an ostensibly modest or self-depreciating statement whose actual purpose is to draw attention to something of which one is proud.” I love the example the Urban Dictionary gives of a humblebrag: “Uggggh! Just ate fifteen pieces of chocolate! Gotta learn to control myself when flying first class or they'll cancel my modeling contract. LOL.” Any empathy engendered by the first part of that tweet is obliterated by the second part.

While the term humblebrag may be of recent origin, the thing it describes goes way back. It seems that this is what Paul is doing in the first part of our passage from 2 Corinthians. We are coming into the middle of an argument about Paul's authority. Some so-called “super-apostles,” who are better orators than Paul, have been making headway in the Corinthian church. He doesn't feel he should have to boast about his qualifications as an apostle but feels forced to remind this church of all he has undergone for their sake. The previous chapter has a mind-blowing list of punishments, hardships and dangers he has endured for Christ. At the beginning of our passage Paul begins to tell of a positive experience he has had. He mentions a remarkable vision, but refers to himself in the third person: “I know a person in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven...”  It sounds like he's about to humblebrag!

We are not sure when this vision happened. There is no reference to it in the book of Acts. The second letter to the Corinthians was written around 55 A.D. So 14 years previous would put the vision somewhere around 41 A.D. Given the usual timeline of Paul's ministry, his 3 years in Arabia right after his conversion (between 33 and 36 A.D.) seems too distant a time for the vision. Another possibility is that Paul is describing a near death experience. It sounds like one. We read in Acts 14:19-20 that, on his first missionary journey, he was stoned by opponents in the city of Lystra and left for dead. But that is usually dated around 46 to 48 A.D., too close to the writing of this letter. Wherever he had this vision, it was profound. Yet Paul did not feel free to speak about what was revealed, let alone use it as ammunition in his argument against the false apostles defaming him.

Instead Paul chooses an odd thing to brag about: an affliction he suffered. He calls it a thorn in his flesh and that is all he says about it. What could he have meant?

Some see this as a reference to his opponents. After all, the phrase recalls the way the Gentiles in the land of Canaan are described in Numbers 33:55. The Israelites are warned that they “will become barbs in your eyes and thorns in your side.” As we've said, Paul's adversaries were better preachers than he. Earlier in this letter he quotes his critics: “For some say, 'His letters are forceful and weighty but in person he is unimpressive and his speaking amounts to nothing.'” (2 Corinthians 10:10) But Paul stresses content over oratory. “I may not be a trained speaker but I do have knowledge,” he says. (2 Corinthians 11:6) Paul knows what he is talking about, unlike his opponents. What he learned in his vision may have bolstered his confidence when he was up against those more colorful and exciting preachers.

Still the language Paul uses about his thorn in the flesh doesn't sound like he is merely talking about adversaries. He speaks of “a” thorn and “a” messenger of Satan, not a cluster of thorns or a bunch of messengers. He also speaks of a weakness he has. So some think he is speaking of a specific temptation he is susceptible to. In Romans 7 Paul speaks of his covetousness. “For I would not have known what coveting really was if the law had not said, 'Do not covet.' But sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, produced in me every kind of covetous desire.” (Romans 7:7-8) The Greek word for covet means to “long for, to lust after, to fix one's desire on” something. We don't know what Paul coveted. The commandment in question covers everything from one's neighbor's house, wife, slaves and animals. It is a generalized craving for anything owned by another.

Were this his thorn in the flesh, it would explain that while Paul was encouraging the church at Corinth to give to the relief effort for the poor in Jerusalem, Titus, not Paul, was actually handling the money. I have often wondered why Matthew, rather than Judas, wasn't the treasurer for the twelve disciples. It may have been that after walking away from his life as a greedy tax collector, Matthew wanted nothing to do with the temptations that came with handling money. Perhaps Paul, too, decided to keep his hands off the Jerusalem fund. And it would explain why he made a point of not taking money from the Corinthian church to support his ministry (2 Corinthians 11:9). It would explain why he was so upset by those who left the ministry because of their love of money and luxury. (1 Timothy 3:6-10) It may explain why he talks of his sufferings as not just being physically punished for the gospel but also having been hungry and thirsty and going without food or shelter or warm clothing (2 Corinthians 11:27; 1 Corinthians 4:11). Doing without the basic necessities of life are hard on anyone but especially so for someone who desires more of everything.

So it may well be that Paul's thorn in the flesh was the temptation of his flesh or fallen human nature to want more stuff. And if so, he did eventually experience triumph over it. Though at the time he wrote 2 Corinthians, he had prayed for relief 3 times to no avail, at the end of his life he was able to say, “ I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:12-13) Which echoes what he says in our passage: “...for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

There is another possibility for the meaning of Paul's thorn in the flesh. He says that it was sent to “torment” him. The Greek word has the sense of being struck with a fist. It sounds painful. A temptation is a punch in the gut...if you succumb to it. If you keep it at bay and don't give in, it would be a source of pride. If you fall off the wagon, if you lose control, that humbles you. Yet the commandment not to covet is the only commandment that is not about an action but a state of mind. You needn't take your neighbor's stuff to covet it. Wanting badly what is not yours is the sin. Stealing it would be yet another sin. But why would God refuse to relieve Paul of a sin he kept falling into? That would hurt and could even end his ministry.

There is something that is painful and humbles you without being your fault: an illness. Nothing lets you know that you are not in control of the world or even your body more forcefully than being sick. And chronic illness reminds you of that over and over. Paul calls his thorn a messenger from Satan. He may well have been thinking of Job, whom we are told was afflicted by Satan with a horrible and painful physical ailment. (Job 2:7)

But what could Paul's chronic condition be? People have suggested headaches or epilepsy but I go along with those who see clues in Paul's letters that he had vision problems. After all, following his seeing Jesus on the road to Damascus, Paul was blind for 3 days. Then he was healed by a fellow Christian. (Acts 9:3-18) And later he was stoned and left for dead. What if as a result of that he had recurrent eye problems? It would explain why he says to the Galatians, “...it was because of a physical illness that I first proclaimed the gospel to you, and though my physical condition put you to the test, you did not despise or reject me....if it were possible, you would have pulled out your eyes and given them to me!” (Galatians 4:13-15) That makes no sense unless it was Paul's eyes that were giving him trouble. It also explains why Paul says later in that epistle, “See what big letters I make as I write to you with my own hand!” (Galatians 6:11) We know that Paul dictated his letters. The people who took them down are mentioned in the letters themselves. Yet in several he makes a point of mentioning that he is adding his signature. What if that were because Paul could not see well enough to do more than that? And remember that verse from Numbers about “barbs in your eyes and thorns in your side?” Perhaps that suggested to Paul the term “thorn in the flesh” because of the painful image of a barb in the eye. That's how it felt.

Having impaired vision would make his life difficult. It would make him very reliant on others. There may have been times when he could not walk without guidance. We know he read a lot. Paul asks Timothy to bring Paul's books when he comes. (2 Timothy 4:13) What if at times he needed a reference but had to have others look it up and read it to him because his eyes were acting up? Depending on how bad it was, people might have to put his food in his hands at meals or move his hands to his cup. He may have stumbled and fallen at times, leaving scrapes or bruises or a bump on the head or a bloody nose. This would be humiliating to any adult but excruciating to a man as brilliant as Paul. At times he would feel helpless. If he had a painful eye condition like glaucoma or keratitis, his inability to get relief (there were no analgesics back then) would wear on him and make it hard for him to think or speak or write. And if the condition was unsightly, like a recurrent stye or blepharitis, that would make him self-conscious about his looks. We know Paul performed healings. It may have caused a crisis in faith for him because he could heal others but not himself.

Whatever it was, it reminded Paul that he was an ordinary mortal, not a god. He was not immune to the ills of this life. He could not take his gifts for granted. Everything he had came from God and was on loan to him in this life. He would be grateful for what he had and humbly accept his limitations.

There is another thing that living with this painful thorn in the flesh did. It made Paul more empathetic. A recent study showed that taking a common painkiller can reduce empathy for others. I thought I was a fairly empathetic nurse but having been seriously injured and going through a long and painful recovery has made me understand those who suffer in a more profound way. That's what happened to Edward Rosenbaum, a doctor who was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx. His journal of his ordeal, which became the book A Taste of My Own Medicine and later the movie The Doctor, chronicled his anger at being misdiagnosed for 9 months and the cold and callous manner of the doctors who treated him. He became a patient advocate as a result.

Shakespeare said, “He jests at scars that never felt a wound.” We see that in those who make fun of the disabled, the disadvantaged, the dislocated, the disturbed, and the depressed. I'm not saying you have to have had a trauma in your life to empathize with the traumatized but having a fairly pleasant life and a lack of curiosity and imagination can insulate you from the suffering of others. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” He goes on to say, “...every man knows that something is wrong when he is being hurt.” What amazes me is that we don't apply the same logic to others. If someone else is hurting, I should know that means something is wrong with them. I should listen to them. I should see if there is anything I can do to help alleviate their pain, or get them someone who can.

That is one way at least in which Paul's weakness made him a strong Christian. It made him more empathetic to those who suffered persecution or fought temptation or dealt with illness and injury. He told us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn.” (Romans 12:15) He also said “Do not repay anyone evil for evil...Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:17, 21) He may have said that because he knew that being in pain can, on your worst days, make you lash out at others. It can turn your focus inward rather than outward and make you bitter rather than empathetic. So he emphasized our oneness in Christ, comparing us to parts of his body. “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it.” (1 Corinthians 12:26) Stub your toe on something and see if that isn't true.

Paul's weakness also reminded him of how dependent we all are on one another. We only think we are independent. Everything we have and use—our food, our clothes, our homes, our vehicles, our water and electricity—was made and transported and offered to us by others. We did not raise ourselves as children. In everything we do we are helped, sometimes invisibly, by others. The first thing that would be shattered by the kind of apocalypse survivalists envision would be the illusion that you can go it alone. In that the disabled are wiser than the so-called rugged individualist. They are reminded daily that kindness and love are essential. Paul's letters are filled with the names of those who helped him and his thankfulness for them. One of whom was Luke, whom Paul called, “the beloved physician.” (Colossians 4:4) He was with Paul in his final imprisonment. How often did Paul, who was stoned, whipped, beaten, and possibly suffering a chronic illness, find himself dependent on his doctor? Paul knew we need each other.

Of course we are connected to and dependent on one another. We are made in God's image and God is love. We are most like God when we act together in love...when we listen to each other, when we share with each other, when we rejoice with each other, when we mourn with each other, when we help each other, when we support each other, when we give to each other, when we receive from each other, when we encourage each other, when we teach each other, when we reach out and comfort and heal each other.

Right now it is hard to listen to the news. Because it is full of anger and fear. Which are symptoms of pain. People are suffering. There is something wrong with the world. It is broken. It is disconnected. It is despairing. We can cover our ears to the cries for help or we can go to them. We can let them suffer or we can make them better. We can be merciless or we can be merciful. We can be cold and cruel or we can be compassionate. Which do you think Jesus would want us to be?