This year, Advent feels a bit like an in-between space. I can look back and recall the excitement felt about my faith before, and I might scrape some enthusiasm for what may possibly lay ahead. But for now, due primarily to the unprecedented run of events in 2020, it is tempting to think of myself as temporarily annexed, exiled, or even abandoned, until the coming of the Messiah at Christmas.

However, reading the great messianic prophecy in Micah 5.2 recently, has given me cause to hope and rethink being caught in-between old and new at Advent.

The words of Micah 5.2 are familiar from chapter 2 of Matthew’s Gospel, but in the Old Testament book of minor prophet Micah, it reads like this:

And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, the least among rulers of Judah; from you shall come one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.

We might connect Christ Jesus with these words by our knowledge that he is “Son of David” through the family tree of Joseph (e.g. Matt. 1.1-16; 20) who needed to return to Bethlehem at the time of the census (Luke 2.1-4). But we also might dare to believe and confess that Christ is from even older “ancient days”: the Word who was with God and was God in the very beginning (John 1.1-5), and the “firstborn of all creation” (Colossians 1.15).

The words of Micah 5.2 relate to the davidic and cosmic dimensions of the Christ. The prophecy reveals that the coming Messiah enters into the story of Israel as one who has already been present in the earliest story of the universe itself.

The fact of Christ entering Israel’s history at a certain point, whilst also having been present since the beginning is significant, particularly during this Advent when I am struggling to centre myself following the year’s events.

There is a commonly held belief that Jesus arrived in Bethlehem following a period of great darkness. Certain Christian groups refer to “400 years of silence” when the divine voice was not heard in between the two testaments. In biblical terms, the theme of “Exile” is of profound importance, in terms of the actual Babylonian exile and its aftermath, but also an identity-defining concept lasting into later Jewish tradition. In all of these ideas, the underlying assumption is that the divine presence has temporarily left the people of God as a consequence of their long-standing disobedience.

In a year when it seems that almost everything has gone wrong, it is difficult to avoid arriving in Advent with ideas of darkness, silence, and exile in mind. Yes, I look ahead to the light of Christmas morning, but for now, I blame myself for causing the Lord to stay silent or even abandon me to some spiritual exile. But actually, I am not convinced this is the case at all.

Earlier when considering Micah 5.2, I found that the Messiah comes into Israel’s history at a particular moment in time, having already been present since the very beginning. This should provide much encouragement on the issue of divine silence/abandonment as it actually solidifies a pattern of unseen-yet-constant presence and tangible intervention that makes up the Israelite story of salvation.

It is crucial to remember that the Bible presents a rich variety of perspectives on many topics. For every verse declaring that God will abandon Israel, there is another proclaiming everlasting love and protection. Even within Micah itself where 5.3 states, “he will give them up until the time when she who is in labour has brought forth”; we also learn in Micah 4 how the people will arrive as exiles in Babylon where, “there you shall be rescued, there the LORD will redeem you from the hands of your enemies” (4.10).

And, looking at the scriptures more widely, it seems evident that, rather than giving them up to exile, the presence of the LORD actually travelled to Babylon with Israel (e.g. Daniel); returned with them to the land decades later (e.g. Ezra, Nehemiah); and even remained with those of the community who did not return (e.g. Esther).

These stories I mention above present themes of suffering and restoration, darkness and light, death and life in a kind of cycle of salvation. Round and round these salvation stories go in a circling, spiraling motion, which work together in revealing a single message that the LORD, though often unseen, is always with Israel and at certain points clearly intervenes on their behalf to save and make new.

Christians can understand these things as signs pointing to the ultimate expression of darkness turning to light in the coming of Christ. To me, this is immensely reassuring. It tells me that in feeling a temporary sense of abandonment/exile I am somehow sharing in an experience common to people of faith through the ages; a pattern which involves reckoning with the mysterious character of God but which will eventually culminate in the divine presence coming through powerfully for the covenant people.

So I wait for Christ’s arrival on Christmas morning expectant and hopeful of new things that lie ahead. But I wonder if this in-between moment of Advent requires a balanced, more disciplined acknowledgement of the divine presence. Perhaps for now, it is necessary to simply look back over the cycle of salvation playing out in the stories of ancient Israel, in order to remember the patterns of lament and joy in which I share.

But the discipline of “remembering” that Christ has always been present in my story, just as he is preparing to enter afresh and make it new, comes with real implications.

First is the immense challenge of wrestling through the ways in which Christ has accompanied me in this year of trials. Do I actually want to seek him out in the mess of 2020; or would I prefer to wallow in an assumed spiritual exile, navel-gazing my way towards the hopes for restoration?

And second is this point of great significance:

The Christ, the Ancient One, has been present. Is present. Will be present. Every story is his story – even our own. This realisation can begin lifting us out of our dismay and cause us to extend our gaze outward in search of the divine presence in other people. And perhaps an active seeking for Christ’s presence will involve us becoming the presence by being the hope in someone else’s despair and the joy in another’s sorrow. In this way, we become truly caught in the great cycle of salvation.

In the Song of Deborah in Judges 5 which follows her story in chapter 4, Deborah is described as “O Mother in Israel” (5.7). Looking at the two chapters together, it is clear that there are various maternal images scattered across the record of events involving Deborah.

First, there is the way in which Deborah “mothers” Barak. It is not clear why he is chosen to lead the attack against Sisera and the 900 iron chariots, but it quickly becomes apparent that Barak needs the presence and protection of Deborah and will not go and fight without her. More than this though, and somewhat like a teenage boy struggling to find his way out in the world – or even out of his bedroom, Barak also seems to require a certain maternal type of organising! So, in 4.14 Deborah arrives at his tent saying: Come on! Get Up! Out of bed! It is time to go and win this battle!

This would seem to be natural to Deborah as she has already served as a kind of mother to Israel under the palm tree offering advice and solving problems. There is something about listening to a mother’s wisdom in Proverbs 1.8 and 31.1 that Deborah seems to embody: put simply, she possesses that divinely-inspired wisdom associated in the Bible with mothers. Note also that her prophecy of 4.9 comes is fulfilled quickly by Jael in 4.21.

But Deborah is not the only maternal figure in the story. When the battle is won by Israel, the Canaanite army commander Sisera flees on foot to the tent of Jael. She welcomes him and “cover[s] him with a blanket” (4.18). Sisera requests water and receives instead some comforting milk. Jael covers him again with the blanket so that Sisera can sleep comfy and cosy. These nurturing actions remind of the maternal, with Sisera appearing as a weary young boy coming home after a long day playing out with his friends.

OK, then Jael drives a tent peg through Sisera’s head and we discover that her pseudo-maternal, comforting actions have been just a ploy to destroy an enemy of Israel. And from the perspective of ancient Israel, Jael is a hero! Just like Judith with Holofernes and Esther with Haman, Jael has boldly acted for the good of her people (*looking at things the opposite way round, we might also say that Delilah does the same by delivering Samson to her people, the Philistines*).

Then, in Deborah’s song of Judges 5 there is a sad picture of Sisera’s mother waiting by her window, wondering why he has not returned home . Forever hopeful, she tells herself that maybe he is delayed because he is busy dividing up the booty of the latest city he has been plundering (5.28-30). Now, there is a comic picture in my mind of the mighty Sisera with his 900 iron chariots, coming home to his beloved mother at the end of each day. And in a Monty Python style touch, I see him seated at the dinner table, still in his armour, telling his proud mum all about that day’s exploits killing, pillaging, etc… 

Anyway, it is interesting to me that the Deborah story is so full of maternal imagery. Not only evident with Deborah, as “Mother in Israel”, but with all the female characters in various ways. I think that reflection upon this feature of the Judges story might lead us on to consider the character of our God who, while so often understood as mighty warrior or Father, is throughout scripture described as demonstrating more nurturing, maternal characteristics.

I noted Deborah’s wisdom. We know that divine wisdom is often personified as a woman in books such as Proverbs and the Apocryphal Wisdom of Solomon. This Lady Wisdom is characterised as a sister (Prov. 7.4) and a bride (Wis. 8.2), but I wonder if there is also something of the mother about wisdom. Divine wisdom is regularly associated with creation (e.g. Prov. 3.19-20; 8.22-30) and life (Prov. 3.18-22; 8.35); both of which we would connect with a mother: life is created inside the mother’s womb and she brings new life into the world. The creative, life-giving force that flows from God, is also present so powerfully in a mother.

Indeed, Deuteronomy 32.18 describes how the LORD gave birth to Israel with some evocative language of writhing and pain. Then in Isaiah 49.15, the LORD says, “can a woman forget the child she has birthed? Even if she could forget, I will never forget you”. These verses together suggest something of the deep and unfathomable bonds between mother and child/God and humanity. She has grown the child inside of their own body and experienced the immensity of bringing new life into the world. That child has been completely dependent upon her for nourishment and nurture and then, as it grow, seeks to go its own way.

It would appear that the experience of bringing about new life is of such magnitude, that the maternal nature and desire to nurture and protect cannot be broken. And here I find a way to draw something divine out of the difficult relationship between Jael’s maternal nurture of Sisera and her violent destruction of his life as an enemy to Israel!

There is a moment when Jesus looks over Jerusalem and expresses his desire to protect the city like a hen sheltering chicks under her wing (Luke 13.34). Here the Son of God approaches the maternal nature of the Father who had said through the prophet, “As a mother comforts her son, so I will comfort you” (Isaiah 66.13). This is the drive to nurture and protect which God as Mother experiences about her own children.

Of course, the need to protect suggests that there is some danger. That is point about Sisera; he represents that ever-present danger to God’s beloved children and Jael, enacting the fierce maternal drive to protect, destroys the danger. It is something we see through Scripture as Israel is attacked on all sides but God rises up to deliver them time and again; and then of course, in the great sacrifice of Jesus Christ to ultimately remove that danger from God’s children once and for all. Mothers, earthly or divine, we might say, can be deeply nurturing, but like a wild animal when it comes to defending her offspring!

Finally, now thinking about Sisera’s mother who waits, ever hopeful, by the window. Again, we can relate this hopeful waiting back to the immensity of being a bringer of life. The bonds between mother and child seem to suggest that a mother will forever wait in hope for her child’s return; however old that child may have grown to be and whatever mistakes they might have made. In Luke 15 we have a picture, often connected with God, of a father waiting for his prodigal son. There is no mother in the parable and I might suggest that this single Dad has had to try and be both father and mother to the two sons, hence his taking on the maternal role of waiting by the window (*we could contrast this with Tobias’ mother in the book of Tobit waiting desperately for her son’s return*). And in fact this may be understood as a divine maternal role of lovingly waiting in hope.

Among the many, many ways in which our Lord relates to humanity, God relates powerfully to that experience of the mother. Whatever we may be going through in our own relationship with God – maybe a time of revelation; rebuke and discipline; extreme closeness or perceived distance – I feel that it will serve us well to also recall the divine maternal character which, no matter what happens, will always be positioned towards our ultimate good.

God is the bringer of life, just as a mother is a bringer of life. It is interesting to me how such a crucial link is so often overlooked. Perhaps we fear that applying feminine characteristics to God will cause our whole faith to come crashing down. We might remember that God chose to align the divine character with these maternal images in the first place!

This week the Church traditionally remembers the ascension of Jesus to heaven as it is forty days since Easter (see Acts 1.3). Now, the actual moment of ascension is briefly described: “[Jesus] was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their eyes” (Acts 1.9)

Of course every ounce of our twenty-first century being cries, “NO! Real people are not carried up into the clouds!”. And it seems we must either compartmentalise it as simply an ancient writer’s attempt to describe something in a culturally/religiously relevant way (e.g. references to the prophet Daniel’s visions of the Son of Man, and the first century ideas that the souls of deceased Roman emperors were carried up into the skies); or perhaps engage with “a spirit of wisdom and revelation” (Ephesians 1.17) in order to appreciate the divine mystery that is Christ’s ascension.

Whatever the details of how/when he actually ascended, the New Testament is fairly consistent in its witness to the fact that Jesus Christ did ascend to heaven and is seated at the right hand of God, the highest place of honour and glory (e.g. Acts 2.32-33; Ephesians 1.20-23; Hebrews 12.2).

The thing about the Ascension is that it is an upwards motion. Just as Jesus was raised up from death to life, he has also been lifted up to heaven, “far above all rule and authority” (Ephesians 1.21). We need not think purely of a physical lifting up but an exalting: “God exalted him to his own right hand as Prince and Saviour” (Acts 5.31). Such an exaltation of Jesus, that is, a kind of spiritual lifting-up of the Son of God, comes as a response to, or perhaps a reward for, his selfless obedience to death upon the cross (Philippians 2.8-9).

Thus, there is something about Jesus descending to the lowest place of shame and suffering that enables his ascending to the highest place. His name was derided and mocked, but is now the name above all names. His body was broken and beaten, but is now glorified. He was low in the grave, but is now living forevermore in the highest place.

The way in which God seems to be positioned towards lifting up the One who was brought down, makes me think about a more general divine positioning in this upwards direction. Helpful biblical imagery like Israel being lifted on wings like an eagle’s out of slavery in Egypt (Exodus 19.4), and Mary’s proclamation that the Lord has “lifted up the lowly” (Luke 1.52), lead us to consider our own lives where God has surely been at work raising us out of all manner of negative situations. And of course, we hold on to the ultimate hope of finally being lifted up from death to that heavenly dimension where God reigns.

Thinking on these issues over the past few days, I was surprised to witness a kind of “sign” of this divine lifting-up in that most unusual biblical story of Ehud and King Eglon in Judges 3.12-30.

Clearly the story tells how Ehud liberates the Israelites from King Eglon of Moab. You may recall that Ehud is the Judge who shoves his short sword into the fat belly of King Eglon after saying, “I have a secret message for you from God”. He then escapes and leads Israel to destroy the Moabites, while the king’s servants wait outside the room thinking that their master is relieving himself!

A crucial part of the story – and the Israelite victory – is the total shaming of Moab as a weaker military force. The powerful King Eglon, able to draw together powerful support from Ammon and Amalek, is ultimately revealed to be a laughable, fat and fleshy character, easily defeated by the superior might of the hardy Ehud. The embarrassing feature of the king’s guards waiting outside the room, allowing Ehud to escape, shows the general foolishness of Moabites. And the death of 10,000 Moabites in a single day reveals the absolute power of Israel (when the LORD is with them of course!).

There is another well-attested interpretation of the story – that it is all innuendo – and the comic shaming of Moab is of a sexual nature. This should not be too much of a stretch of the imagination because, in the Israelite telling of history, Moab has been sexually shamed from the beginning. You recall the origin story in Genesis when Lot’s daughters sleep with their father in order to continue the family line (Gen. 19.30-38)? One of the children produced by this unsavoury act is the ancestor of the Moabites. Sexual shaming is a common and effective means of bringing down your enemy that people still engage in today.

So, here… and without dwelling too much on the details!…the soft and fleshy King Eglon is penetrated by Ehud’s short sword. In the world of ancient Israel this is the ultimate shaming: a man who is penetrated is not really a man at all. Further, the ancient near-eastern man could prove his dominant masculinity by sexually abusing another man. Again, we see this action threatened by men wishing to assert their dominance over male visitors to their town in Genesis 19.5 and Judges 19.22. And surely, this is at least partially why the men of Israel are commanded not to “lie with a male as one lies with a woman” (Leviticus 18.22): you cannot love your neighbour by shaming them and enacting dominance in such an abusive, violent way.

Either way – violently, comically or sexually – a crucial feature of the Ehud story is that Moab is humbled and shamed as unmanly, foolish, and weak. The Moabites have been forever condemned to the wrong side of history.

But then, far away from all this testosterone-driven fun and games… there is another Moabite called Ruth. In the book bearing her name she is referred to as “Ruth the Moabite” a number of times (e.g. 1.22; 2.2; 4.5) to make the point clear: the hero of this story is unexpected! Moabites are not supposed to be heroes in Israel’s story!

And this is exactly the point I am trying to make clear: it seems as though a central aspect of God’s activity is to lift up those who have been shamed and disregarded. Whoever they are! Even if they are an arch-enemy! As you know, Ruth is raised up from nothing within the book; saved by the noble-kinsmen Boaz as a perfect example of the biblical notion that those who are humbled will be exalted. And then, in the wider story of Israel she is lifted up to a much greater, much higher place as an ancestor to King David (4.16-22) who is ancestor to our Lord Jesus Christ. Ruth even appears in the genealogy of Christ (Matthew 1.5)!

Now, that is quite a turn-around for a Moabite! And this should mean more to us than just a mildly interesting piece of biblical trivia. As we have been adopted into the family of God, and dare to call Jesus our brother; we find ourselves mysteriously connected to those in his family-tree. Thus, we are linked to Ruth and her Moabite roots. As such, the intense shaming of Moab in stories like that of Judges 3.12-30 should cause us at least a moment of reflection about how we might approach these stories differently; how it seems that God may be a lot more willing to show mercy, bringing life and lifting-up, than we have previously thought; and how, when we judge and shame others, we are acting outside of the ways of the loving God we claim to follow.

Why does the Church continue to mark Ascension Day? I think because it highlights a fundamental way in which God works: not only raising up those who are down, forgotten, humbled; but ultimately lifting-up and exalting as well. 

 

 

The book of Judges has a repeating pattern where the Israelites do wrong in the eyes of the LORD, are subjected to a foreign oppressive power, cry out God and are delivered by a warrior Judge. This crying out to the LORD does not happen every time but is common enough to form a pattern (3.9; 4.3; 6.7; 10.10). The introduction of Samson in chapter 13 is notable because of the absence of any crying out to the LORD. It seems especially significant as the Israelites have suffered under the Philistines for forty years (13.1) – which is a pretty long time!

Thus, when the angel of the LORD appears to Manoah’s wife (no name provided, sorry…) with a message of a miraculous birth, it is a demonstration of the unprompted mercy of God for the people. The provision of this new deliverer for Israel stems from the good and righteous character of God seeking to aid the people in their distress (which apparently, they have brought upon themselves). The result of this merciful work of God is the provision of a most unexpected deliverer – Samson! The one with the incredible strength and long hair, who seems to be a most proud and foolish man, acting upon base instincts which, ultimately bring about his downfall at the hands of Delilah and the Philistines.

But I have been thinking recently about the unexpected saving action by God which takes place silently in the space between 13.1 and 13.2. It is unexpected because it is unsought by the people. Thus, I wonder if the unexpected nature of God’s deliverance leads in some way to the unexpected character of God’s chosen Judge, Samson. That is, without the people crying out and actively watching for deliverance, the LORD can work hidden in clear sight through the most unlikely of people. Thinking along these lines, I want to assume that everything Samson does in Judges 13-16 is in line with the divine purposes.

This may be easier to argue than we think: Samson’s birth is announced by the angel where is declared a nazirite who will begin the deliverance from the Philistines (13.3-5). The LORD is said to bless him as he grows (13.25) and the Spirit of the LORD comes upon Samson at least four times in the narrative (13.25; 14.6; 14.19; 15.14). These are clear signs surely, of someone with a special relationship with God: the miraculous birth, the vow, the vocation, not to mention the divine blessing and presence, are all there! God is at work!

So, while 14.1 may look like a man sharking, trying to pick-up girls (“while in Timnah, he noticed a girl among the Philistine women”); it could rather be the beginnings of Samson putting the divine work into practice. Recall that the deliverance from the Philistines is Samson’s vocation (13.5) and that is the work he sets about from 14.1 onward. However, the ways in which he goes about this work are always unexpected. Even his parents, who were told of this mission by the angel before Samson’s birth, do not understand what their son is up to (14.4). If they remembered the angel’s word to them in 13.5, the methods of their son, God’s chosen, are unorthodox, so as to confuse everyone!

Looking at the story from this perspective also enables us to see the famous betrayal by Delilah as mysterious or unexpected wisdom. What we tend to read as Samson’s “pride before a fall” might in fact be his journeying towards fulfilling what God has placed upon him. What appear to be Samson’s being overpowered by the Philistines as a result of his foolishness and being taken in by those dangerous feminine charms of Delilah, could actually be a demonstration of God’s chosen one giving himself over to obedience and consent to betrayal. This obedience requires Samson to act in such a way as to make the LORD depart from him when he breaks the nazirite vow placed upon him before his birth (16.20). Surely, this is a different kind of strength displayed by the man famous for his ability to tear lions apart (14.6)!

I wonder if Samson, understanding the divine purposes he has been invited to participate in, knows that he must leave his days of impressing with his strength and wit, and move towards becoming a pathetic figure; betrayed, with gouged-out eyes, mocked while dancing before his enemies (16.21-25).

These kinds of ideas may contribute to Samson’ inclusion (if only in passing) as one of the heroes of faith in Hebrews 11.32. The author of that letter recognises in Samson something similar to Abraham, Moses, and the other biblical names, who were sure of the things they hoped for, and certain of things they could not see. Perhaps Samson, because of the joy awaiting him, thought nothing of the disgrace of being overpowered, blinded, chained, and mocked by the Philistines. Perhaps, he had set his face towards the purposes of God in releasing Israel from their oppressors so as to stretch out his arms between the pillars and lose his own life for his people (16.28-30). He did not see what God had promised, but he had the faith to give himself over to that promise.

And here of course, we are led to see Christ who emptied himself in obedience, even to death on the cross. But looking back over this reflection on Samson, I think Jesus might have been present throughout.

There is no record of the nation crying out for deliverance at the time that the angel appeared to Mary with the news of a miraculous birth (Luke 1.26-38). As such, the Word could be made flesh and dwell among the people without it being clear that this was One who had been with God since the beginning and in fact, was God, until the hour had come! And again, most of what Jesus did was unexpected. In many ways, the man from Nazareth was the most unlikely of people to arrive proclaiming the kingdom of God. Anything people thought a prophet or a Messiah would do, he did not do. And what he did do amazed some of the crowds but often confused and angered other people; including his own family who at one point sought to have Jesus taken away for having “gone mad!” (Mark 3.20-21).

Unexpected as he and his ways may have appeared to those at the time, Jesus was always about his Father’s work and the Holy Spirit ever-present for him to teach and heal. This beautiful divine-human partnership led Jesus to set his face towards Jerusalem and, consenting to betrayal, give himself over to becoming a pathetic figure, mocked and beaten, hanging upon a cross.

Thinking about Samson and Jesus as we have here, I think we might be wise to carefully consider that in the kingdom of God everything is unexpected – and indeed, the Lord may be at work in the most unusual ways through the most unlikely of people… even us!

The Apocryphal tale Bel and the Dragon appears as chapter 14 of the book of Daniel in some Bibles, while elsewhere it is a part of a separate Apocrypha section. In any case it is an amusing tale of Daniel, now in the court of Cyrus the Persian, using his godly wisdom to overcome the Babylonian god Bel and an unidentified dragon deemed worthy of veneration.

As in the book of Daniel 1-6, Daniel is a respected companion of the foreign king. So, when asked by Cyrus, “why do you not worship Bel?”; Daniel laughs and tells the king he should not be deceived! The important issue here is that Daniel claims to worship the living God, the creator of all things. The king responds like this:

“Do you not think that Bel is a living god? Do you not see how much he eats and drinks every day?”

For Cyrus, the point of contention is that Daniel’s God may well be the living God, but how does that stop Bel from also being a living God? The difference in perspective is one of Daniel’s monotheism and Cyrus’ apparent polytheistic belief. Whereas Cyrus might acknowledge a number of divine beings worthy of worship, for Daniel, to worship the living God of Israel is to bow to no other. He is clear with the king that Bel is a human-made construction of clay and bronze. But Cyrus is equally clear: the evidence of life is in the eating and just look at Bel’s high levels of consumption each day!

Anyway, Daniel is able to show the king that it is fact not Bel but the priests who are eating and drinking all of the sacrifices presented to the god, by means of a secret entrance under the temple! As a result, Bel, its temple and its priests are destroyed by order of Cyrus. A god that does not eat, is not a living god at all.

However, the question is not yet sufficiently answered, and the king goes on to show Daniel a great (very-much-alive-and-most-definitely-not-just-a-statue-with-its-own-temple) dragon which the Babylonians revere, saying:

“You cannot deny that this is a living god, so worship him”

But again, Daniel replies that he worships the Lord, the living God; and gains permission from the king to try and kill the dragon “without sword or club”. Instead of these conventional weapons, Daniel mixes a concoction of pitch, fat and hair which, when eaten, causes the dragon to explode! Here, unlike Bel, it is the fact that the dragon eats which is the cause of its undoing!

Daniel’s victory is short-lived however. He has annoyed the Babylonians who pressurise the king into throwing his beloved companion into the… can you guess?… lions’ den!! To be thrown into the lions’ den once is unfortunate, but twice is just… well… anyway… And again, as readers we are faced with a foolish foreign king who, like Darius in Daniel 6, appears to have all the power but bends to public pressure quite easily.

But things have developed in the lions’ den business and this time around Daniel is in, not for just one night, but for six nights! Surely, there can be no escape – six nights, seven hungry lions – no way! Maybe no way for your average Babylonian wrongdoer, but Daniel has continually proclaimed his worship and service to the living God. And this is where we see whether this God actually proves to be any more “living” than Bel or the dragon.

Of course, God does deliver, and with some style. A prophet called Habakkuk back in Judea, having just cooked up a stew with some flat breads on the side, is whisked away by an angel over to Babylon in order to deliver dinner to Daniel starving in the lions’ den. After his hair-raising adventure (look at verse 36!), Habakkuk calls out: “Daniel, take the food that God has sent you”. And immediately the prophet is returned to Judea.

On the seventh day, King Cyrus comes to mourn for Daniel, finds him alive and well, and proclaims the greatness of Daniel’s God. Daniel is pulled out of the den and those who sought his destruction were thrown in and… “instantly eaten”!

What is revealed in this short little story, is that the true living God is in fact not the one who takes and consumes (as King Cyrus had assumed) but the One who gives to others. Notice how the divine power brings the prophet from afar to assist Daniel in his desperate situation. There is surely a lesson for us in remaining alert to the prompting of the Spirit to assist others in need of sustenance (in whatever form is necessary). The experience of the divine presence is easily missed and/or ignored, but if we keep our senses alert we may find ourselves swept along to deliver “the food that God has sent”. This way we will be doing the work of the living God.

We may also wish to consider that the true living God is not simply alive, in the sense of being more than a statue or idol. Rather, our Lord, the living God is life! And because God is life, God offers life to us in all manner of ways. Clearly, Christians believe we have been “raised to life with Christ” (Colossians 3.1). That is, the Word, the source of all life, became flesh, died, and then rose up to glorious new life. As we are invited to share in Christ’s death, we also share in his life. And it is an offer of life in its fullest sense. This suggests that in all the many ways in which we experience some kind of spiritual death – selfishness, pride, jealousy, you know the list – there is an offer of life, and an invitation to eat and live.

And finally, to move up another level, we might do well to recall that the true living God, far from taking for himself, is the One who offers himself so that we may receive and then give to others. In that most challenging text from John 6, Jesus says: “…whoever eats me will live because of me” (6.57). Make of that what you will, but the offer has been made!

In considering the character of the living God and trying to follow in the divine way of life demonstrated so perfectly by Jesus; the starting point seems to be a very ordinary, yet totally immense realisation that to truly live is to give and not to take.

If I ever visit the Holy Land, I think I will head straight to Jericho. Because, in Jericho is a sycamore tree with a wall around it commemorating the story of Zacchaeus! Now, it may not be the actual tree that Zacchaeus climbed to see Jesus above the crowds as the miracle working teacher passed through the city some two thousand years ago… but it is certainly an old sycamore tree in the same city as the story. And that is good enough for me! Because I love the story of Zacchaeus and personally relate to it. Not because I am a tax collector, working for the Romans and cheating people out of their hard-earned money, but because of the way that I was so lost when the Lord came to seek and find me.

The story in Luke 19.1-10 is well-known but just as a quick reminder it goes something like this: Zacchaeus is a chief tax collector who wants to see Jesus who is passing through Jericho but has to climb up a tree in order to see the Lord over all the crowds. Jesus stops at the tree and tells Zacchaeus, “Hey! I am coming to your house today!” After meeting Jesus, Zacchaeus promises to repay anyone he has cheated four times over. The story ends with these famous words of Jesus: “Today salvation has come to this house… The Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost” (19.9-10).

And for me, these words spoken by the Lord are the key to the story: it is a tale of lost and found much like those familiar parables of sheep, coins and sons in Luke 15.

Now, the first thing to note is about names. You know that biblical names are never just names but regularly tell us something about the character of the person. In this case, Zacchaeus means “righteous”. But there is a little problem… the “righteous” Zacchaeus has become “lost” along his way and is living one of the most unrighteous lives of first century Judea – a tax collector! We have all heard the stories about those tax collectors; working for the Romans, cheating their own people, universally hated and despised. That is why the parable in Luke 18 features a tax collector as the foil for the Pharisee: by using a contemporary example of unrighteousness, Jesus shocks his audience by exalting the tax collector above the Pharisee!

And, like the tax collector in the parable of chapter 18, Zacchaeus presents Jesus with another opportunity to challenge people’s expectations and judgments on who is good/bad and in/out. Although Zacchaeus has lost his way; after meeting with Jesus he lives up to his name of “righteous” and acts in a righteous manner towards those he has previously cheated. Zacchaeus is changed by his meeting with Jesus but does not become a different person. It is more like his innate character has been restored/saved/made good/made new! What I mean is: there was always righteousness inside of the one named “righteous” – God had created him as such – but the way of the world/bad choices/and who-knows-what-else resulted in his created core being lost. Jesus however, seeks and saves what has been lost. Righteousness is restored to the one named righteous.

As I already mentioned, this story speaks to me personally because I feel that “I once was lost and now am found”.

At the age of eighteen I had no knowledge and definitely no interest in anything religious. I knew that Christmas meant presents and Easter meant chocolate eggs. I could probably tell you something about Noah’s Ark. But that was about it! And then suddenly, I might say, utilising the language of Luke 19.1: “Jesus was passing through Jericho” and the things of God began to fascinate and surround me. It seemed as though everywhere I turned there was a church building I now found to be of great interest. I started to meet people who unexpectedly revealed they were Christians. And over the next year or so I became more and more interested in the man called Jesus. I wanted to find out about him, read books about him, listen to songs about him, and I suppose (in some spiritual sense!) I started climbing up the sycamore tree to try and see him over the crowds. By some divine mystery, the more I felt surrounded and pursued by the presence of the Lord, the more I was desperate to meet him in person!

How awesome to think of our Lord appearing or arriving where we are, looking for us. To me, all those years ago, that unexpected arrival of the divine presence was so irresistible, so attractive, I had to find out what – or who – was surrounding me. And I let him pursue me, I allowed myself to be sought and surrounded until that day at the age of twenty when I stopped, with no more hiding places, and said, “Alright Jesus, you’ve found me!”

Up until that time, I was lost. I had no idea who I was, what God had created me to be – or even that there was a God who had created me! I had no direction, no plans, no opinions, no drive. Looking back, I might equate myself to the earth in Genesis 1.1, a formless void waiting for God to speak words of life and light. That sounds extreme I know! But I believe that the Lord sought me and saved me from that dark void of an existence because I was so far away from living life in all its fulness. In fact, I am not sure that I was really living at all.

If we are to truly live however, Christians are required to give our lives away. In order for the Lord to restore and make new what has been lost in us, we have to release our grip on certain things that we have come to depend on, often over many years of living in the world. In my own story, being finally “found” by Jesus at age twenty was incredible and momentous, but it was only the start of something much bigger than I could possibly have imagined. It has taken a long time to even begin to realise what God created me to be – what illusions about my identity I have held on to so tightly – and the immense glory of what I am invited to step into. Indeed, to this very day I continue journeying towards understanding all that Jesus wants to “find”, restore and make good in me.

As such, I have come to believe that the Lord’s seeking and saving what has been lost is not a single event specifically related to becoming a Christian. Rather, I think this is one of the most important and relational ways in which the Lord works with and within us. In relationship with each other, as we follow in the way of Christ Jesus, he also continues to pursue us. And I am so grateful that he does! Look at those disciples on the road to Emmaus in Luke 24. They had been with the Lord all of that time but were now lost, heading in completely the wrong direction away from Jerusalem, when suddenly Jesus finds them on the road!

It may sound strange, but we can easily become lost as Christians and require finding again. And again. And again. People come to church (even a virtual online kind of a church!) carrying all kinds of burdens and experiences. Look at this wonderful verse from Psalm 119.176:

“I have gone astray like a lost sheep;

seek out your servant,

for I do not forget your commandments”

What a beautifully truthful verse of scripture this is! And how well it describes the situation I am speaking of! There are times when we still have faith, sing the songs, pray the prayers, try to love our neighbour, but still somehow go “astray like a lost sheep”. Of course, we are in a process of renewal and new creation, a step-by-step adventure of becoming more like Christ; but we are still subject to our own weaknesses as human beings. In the words of the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing:

“Prone to wander Lord I feel it

Prone to leave the One I love”

Note the good news in the psalmist’s request: “seek out your servant”. We can ask that God may come to seek us out, because we know that this is how the Lord works! During those times when we feel so far from God, we know that our gracious, patient and kind Lord will not let us go, will not leave us or forsake us! Remember: “the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost” (Lk. 19.10). Nothing at all can separate us from the love of Christ – if we go astray and become lost, as we often do in ways both small and big – I am convinced that he will be working on the way of recovery, ready to draw us back to the presence so we may continue our journey together.

But I think we must allow ourselves to be found. If we stubbornly pursue our own way, blocking off our senses from the loving call of our Lord, we just cause damage to ourselves and delay the inevitable moment of joy when we become found once again. Even when we have wandered far from the Lord; even when we have gone backwards; I believe we can still recognise that presence of the divine as it draws near. Just like the voice of the shepherd is known by the flock, somehow the Lord’s presence will be familiar to us when we experience it afresh. The voice will be one that we know. The embrace will be comforting as it once was. And then… will we let ourselves be found again?

The reasons for our wandering are many – the pull of family, a new relationship, work commitments, temptations of the world we left behind, maybe just laziness and boredom. The reasons for our walking away from church are often real and painful – abusive church leaders, critical fellow Christians, questions about our faith that no one seems to be able to answer. But the One who pursued us in the first place, and rejoiced over finding us, is never done with us. In order that he might continue the work of restoring us to what we were created to be; taking us forwards to the fullest, best, most challenging expression of life, Jesus will prove faithful when we are faithless, and he will heal when we are in pain.

However far away you may feel, you are within easy reach of the hand of the Lord.

If today you hear his voice, please do not harden your heart (Psalm 95.7-8), but respond, allow yourself to be found, and receive the joyous welcome as our Lord says again over you: “Today, salvation has come to this house!” (Luke 19.9).

My question today is: why does the Bible feature so much deceit in the name of the LORD?

It seems obvious that truth is a central part of the Christian way of life. Our Lord Jesus Christ even says of himself: “I am the way, the truth and the life” (John 14.6). And there is also the small matter of the Ten Commandments “You shall not bear false witness” (Exodus 20.16)… which, although clearly related to some legal practice, is generally interpreted as saying “don’t tell lies”!

As such, it is interesting to me that the Bible features many examples of deceit done in the name of the LORD. The particular text which has prompted my thought today is 2 Kings 10.18-28.

This is the story of Jehu who has been divinely mandated to set things right in Israel and erase the memory of Ahab. After arranging the death of the seventy sons (and collecting their heads in bags) and killing of other family members of Ahab, we come to 10.18-28 where Jehu calls the people together and declares: “Ahab served Ba’al a little, Jehu shall serve him much!” With these words Jehu gathers all the Ba’al prophets together for a great day of worship but ends up having them all killed instead. The Israelite king has no intention of honouring Ba’al. It has all been a trick designed to destroy the Ba’al worshippers (10.19).

Now, this makes me wonder whether or not truth should be a priority when doing God’s work. It is complicated here with Jehu because after slaughtering the Ba’al prophets, the king is praised by the LORD and promised a four generations long reign (10.30). It seems that the work of setting things right in Israel, that is, erasing the wrongs of Ahab, was of such great importance due to God’s immense love for Israel (e.g. Deuteronomy 7.7-9); the actual manner by which this was achieved is less important.

Perhaps, there is always an overall purpose of God in any situation. That is to say that the divine presence in this world desires to make something good and new out of every circumstance. But God’s purposes are brought about in partnership with a human agent (which, as we know from the Bible and our own experiences, can be the most unlikely of people!). Because humanity is somehow less-than-perfect, the human partner responding to the call of the Lord will always play their part in a less-than-perfect manner. Nevertheless, as God is always positioned towards mercy, grace, and patience, being abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness (Exodus 34.6); our rather pathetic efforts to carry out the divine work in which we have been invited to participate may still be celebrated by a loving heavenly parent.

In light of this thought, I would like to quickly consider some other biblical examples:

In Genesis 27, Rebekah convinces Jacob to trick the elderly Isaac into giving his fatherly blessing to the wrong son! Jacob dresses as his older brother Esau and receives the blessing. The act of deception is cruel but seemingly inevitable as Esau had earlier given up his first-born rights for a pot of stew (25.27-34). Further, although appearing as a mean trickster, pitting one son against the other, it might just be that Rebekah actually has a sense of the mysterious divine purpose and aligns herself to its fulfilment. Recall that, when pregnant, she inquired of the LORD and received the prophetic word that “the older will serve the younger” (25.22).

The story of the midwives in Exodus 1.15-21 is well-known. Because they fear the LORD, they will not follow the Pharaoh’s instruction to kill any boy that is born. When questioned, the midwives concoct a story about the speedy delivery rates of Hebrew women, resulting in their always missing the birth! The blessing they receive from the LORD is surely because their deception is in line with the larger purpose of God. As midwives, they are in the business of life not death, as presumably is God. The Israelites are an oppressed minority; slaves crying out to their Saviour. By saving the baby boys, the midwives step into the work of God. And of course, one of those boys might prove to be God’s chosen, Moses who will lead the people out of slavery to freedom.

And lastly, in the Apocryphal book of Judith, the Israelites are a community oppressed, this time by the mighty power of Assyria. Judith acts deceptively to overcome the army commander Holofernes. Here she prays for God to bless her deceptive words in order for the enemy of Israel to be defeated. And again, it appears that God is indeed on the side of the powerless, the weak, the small, and one woman, Judith brings victory to Israel over the might of Assyria by speaking not even one word of truth!

So, I wonder if it is possible to align oneself with the divine purposes using any means – even stepping into the grey area between truth and lies, or into complete deception. I cannot think of many contemporary Christians affirming such an idea!

And here I turn to look at Jesus. The Word, who was with God and was God, became flesh and dwelt among us. He is the One about whom we can be sure lives the divine purposes because, “I and the Father are one”. But how did the person of Jesus of Nazareth actually present God-with-us?

The answer in the Gospel accounts is that often Jesus’ identity is clouded in secrecy and occasional, possible deception. Consider for instance, the times people are instructed not to tell anyone what has happened to them (e.g. Mark 1.44; 8.30). Whatever the reasons for this secrecy, the Son of God does not wish to be publicly known. Elsewhere, Jesus seems to purposely speak in ways designed to confuse or deceive. In John 7, when challenged by his brothers about attending the festival, Jesus says that he will not go… and then goes, but in secret (7.7-10). And he is said to speak only in parables so that the people may look and not see, listen but not understand (Mark 4.12).

So much for the words of Jesus. But his divine-human identity is also difficult to comprehend from his appearance. When walking on the water Jesus is perceived by the disciples to be a ghost (Mark 7.49), and the same is said when he appears after the resurrection (Luke 24.37). At the Transfiguration, the physical appearance of Jesus is changed beyond recognition as he becomes glorified (Mark 9.2). Jesus is not recognised on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24.16) and thought of as the gardener on Easter morning (John 20).

The way in which the Gospels’ presentation of Jesus blends changes in physical appearance with tricky language and demands for secrecy should serve to point us towards further exploration of the divine character and purposes in our own lives. Maybe one of the reasons that God’s people are allowed – encouraged at times – to use deceptive means of participating in the divine work to which they have been called, is that the character and purposes of the Lord are not straightforward. Certainly not as easy to understand and obvious as we sometimes tell ourselves!

Maybe, a part of figuring out how best to respond to the call of God when it comes to us is to engage in the search for the God who sometimes hides from view, the Son who acts in secret and speaks in parable, and the Spirit who blows where it will. This Holy Trinity we are committed to serving and following will undoubtedly lead us in an adventurous dance of extremes stretching us far beyond anything remotely comfortable so that we are forced to rethink even what is truth and what is not.

Here I am looking at the Apocryphal book of Judith and pointing to a particular theme which contemporary Christians might find helpful.

The Assyrians have been displaying their immense might and have finally closed in on Israel, cutting off the water supply of the town of Bethulia. At this crucial point in proceedings, with the town elders floundering, Judith comes out of her quiet existence as a pious widow with a clear plan to save the people. She has fasted and observed a religious life for exactly three years and four months, so it is clear that Judith is spiritually well prepared for this moment – her moment when she will partner with God to bring salvation to Israel.

After boldly telling the elders how the Lord is going to deliver Israel by her hand, Judith then cries out to God asking for divine assistance and blessing on her plans. Perhaps we recognise in our own lives the clear tension between public proclamation of faith and the private pleas to the Lord when we acknowledge the risks ahead and the courage needed to do what God asks of us.

Now, what lays ahead for Judith is a crazy, comic mission literally into the enemy camp where she will deceive her way into gaining the trust of Holofernes, the Assyrian army commander. She has prayed: “By the deceit of my lips… crush their arrogance by the hand of a woman” (9.10); and she will go out to convince the Assyrian oppressors that she has abandoned the sinking ship of Bethulia because of the peoples’ sins and wishes to show Holofernes the way “by which he can go and capture all the hill country without losing one of his men, captured or slain” (10.13).

Of course, Judith’s mission is a success! Holofernes ends up dead with his head in a bag, while his army is left in confusion for the Israelites to claim victory. But, back to Judith’s prayers and preparations in chapter 10, she cannot know for sure that this is how it will turn out. As I said, there is a real tension involved with faith: we may trust that God is with us, but we still require the courage to face the actual situation. And that is why I was interested to see that, having cried out to God for help in the work that lay ahead of her:

“[Judith] bathed her body and anointed herself with precious anointment” (10.3)

First, recall that the water supply to the town has been cut off by the Assyrians (7.17) so for Judith to bathe at this point is either the grossest kind of selfishness or an act of the greatest importance. Knowing from chapters 8-9 that she is righteous and godly, and presented as pretty much perfect in every way, it has to be the latter! Which leads to the question of why she needs to bathe so urgently at a time of no water.

Judith is preparing herself for the work that lays ahead. She has been preparing for this moment of calling for three years and four months of religious observance. Now, as the hour has come, it seems to me that she must observe a kind of ritual washing, perhaps a kind of baptism. But if this is a kind of bathtub baptism, what is Judith actually preparing herself for? And what might this section of the story be pointing us towards?

Here I want to turn to Romans 6 where Paul writes, “all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus were baptised into his death…” (6.3). There is something profound here about which Martin Luther wrote in 1519, “the life of Christians, from baptism up to the grave, is nothing but the commencement of a blessed dying…”. That is, in the way that we live, those of us purporting to be followers of Christ must somehow give ourselves up to follow our Lord all the way to his death. Indeed, we must be willing to lose our life in order to save it (Mark 8.35). Going down into the waters of baptism is a good symbol of that sinking down, sharing in the death of Christ Jesus.

Of course, there is a rising up on the other side! As Paul goes on to write to the Roman church: “if we have been united with him in death like his, we will certainly be united with him in resurrection like his” (6.5). But before this glorious rising up out of the baptism waters into new life, we have to willingly go down into the darkness. Not knowing for certain, but trusting by faith, that the light will follow.

I see a sign of this in Judith’s bathing as preparation. To go into the enemy’s camp by faith is to step into the darkness. She will risk it all for the sake of her people. She is prepared to lay down her life for her friends, an act of the greatest love.

But I will go a little further in considering Judith 10.3. After bathing, she “anointed herself with precious anointment”. If baptism is to go down, giving oneself over to death; anointing with oil, spices or anointment is another step towards actually preparing the body for burial. Recall the story towards the end of all four Gospels where the woman (named Mary in John 12.3) pours an expensive oil upon Jesus. While the disciples complain at the waste, Jesus says, “she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial” (Mark 14.8).

What I suggest then, is that, within this Apocryphal text of Judith, we are pointed towards a great spiritual truth of the Christian way. In following Christ Jesus, we must go down into the waters of baptism and anoint our bodies for burial, because the journey of discipleship leads towards the cross. And in varying degrees of spiritual or physical risk, it may do so many times over.

OK, there are periods – sometimes long stretches of time – when this idea has no relevance to us at all. God’s voice is silent, or at least very quiet beyond perhaps a mild prompting to pray for this or that. But this is exactly the time – our “three years and four months” if you like – when we must try to develop faithful practices of prayer and reflection. Without this regular devotion in everyday, ordinary time when we get to know the ways of the divine, we may be taken by surprise by the call of the Lord when it comes, and find ourselves completely overwhelmed, unable to respond with obedience.

Because, when the call of the Lord comes, we might find ourselves invited to something that we feel is beyond us. The work God has for us might just demand everything we have to give. The time spent in prayer and preparation now, is like training for that call, that invitation, that work from the Lord. Of course, we are always able to refuse the call of the Lord. God is gracious, and experience tells me that we will not be condemned for walking away. However, we know – I mean really know – that the better way is to align ourselves with Christ Jesus. It will never be the easy way, but it will be better for us and for the community we serve. Thus, if we, like Judith, observe some form of regular religious life, when the Lord’s call comes we are much more likely to be ready and willing to bathe and anoint, saying, “let us also go, that we may die with him” (John 11.16) (– in whatever way those words are meaningful to us!).

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The good news is that the other side of the dark water of baptism is the light when we arise! Likewise, Jesus’ body anointed for burial, was absent from the tomb on Easter morning! And Judith, having gone into the darkness of the enemy’s camp, prepared to give up her life for her people, is later blessed by all her meet her:

“You are blessed by the Most High God above all other women on earth; and blessed be the Lord God, who created the heavens and the earth, who guided you to cut off the head of the leader of our enemies. Your praise will never depart from the hearts of those who remember the power of God. May God grant this to be a perpetual honour to you, and may he reward you with blessings, because you risked your own life when our nation was brought low, and you averted our ruin, walking in the straight path before our God” (Judith 13.18-20)

And so, with such joy set before us, I wonder if we are prepared at all to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12.1-2)?

With the spies safely on their way back to the Israelite camp in Joshua chapter 2, there is an opportunity to reflect on what had happened to them in Jericho. They must know that they will have to report to Joshua about what they have experienced. And yet, despite Rahab helping the spies significantly; upon their return they do not give a full report and fail to mention the kindness they had received or the concern their host has shown for her family. They only report that the people of Jericho are scared and ready to be taken.

We might wonder why the spies did not reflect upon their experience and consider that perhaps the character of the Canaanites was more nuanced than they had been led to believe. Why were the spies not sufficiently changed by their experience with Rahab?

While the spies have been away, I like to imagine that Joshua has been waiting upon the LORD, seeking direction. I wonder what influence the content of the spies’ report has on his finding a way forward. Consider the impact on forthcoming events in the book of Joshua if the spies had returned with a full report, not simply that the people of Jericho were scared and ready to be taken. I wonder if a full report might have led Joshua to further seek the LORD’s guidance on the way ahead relating to the Canaanites and other indigenous peoples in the land.

But where is the way of wisdom when not all of the information has been shared? Can wisdom be fully active when only partial truth is offered?

This is a crucial point as biblical wisdom is always intrinsically connected with truth. Indeed, Wisdom declares: “my mouth utters truth; wickedness is abhorrent to my lips” (Prov. 8.7-8). Thus, to pursue the way of wisdom is to seek the way of truth. In the Gospel of John (14.6), Jesus describes himself as the truth and the Helper who is to come as the Spirit of truth who would guide the people of God into all truth (16.13).

At the same time, it appears as though God works with people by means of relationship, inviting us to join with the divine activity rather than forcing the holy will upon us. As such, I have come to believe that the movement of divine activity and purposes must surely be affected by information shared or held back by human partners.

There was an opportunity offered these spies to bring back a full report of what they had experienced that, when shared with Joshua who was waiting upon the LORD, may have significantly shaped the future actions of Israel as they moved into the land. What we call “free will” however, results in any person being able to share, hold-back, or manipulate anything according to their own agendas, assumptions and judgments.

The spies are an example then, of a tragic missed opportunity in truth and humility. Apparently, they could not acknowledge (consciously or otherwise) that their prejudgments regarding the Canaanites might be in error and in need of significant reflection. Therefore, their report to Joshua was selective and “on-message”, rather than sincere. This is because truth comes at a price – a personal cost – as Thomas Merton noted: “the humility to recognise our innumerable errors, and fidelity in tirelessly setting them right”.*

What strength it would have required to stand up in the face of the people’s objections and state “we need to change our minds about these Canaanites”. The spies would have been in danger of attack – the people had been raised on a Mosaic diet of us and them. It is no surprise that Jesus’ teaching that “the Spirit of truth… will guide you into all the truth” comes amidst warnings of persecution (John 16). Actual truth presents a serious challenge to our normal way of being because it is not interested in power or status. But these things are of such importance to us that we often fight against truth in order to preserve the structures that will ensure our own privilege.

Let us choose the better way of transparency and truth whatever the cost.

 

 

*Thomas Merton, Seeds, p. 61.

The action in Joshua chapter 2 is centred around the spies and their interaction with Rahab. They arrive in Jericho and apparently head straight for the inn/hotel/brothel. You probably know the age-old debate about whether Rahab is a prostitute or an innkeeper? It seems to me that the narrative works better if she is managing some kind of adult establishment because it ensures that there is a fair amount of cheeky innuendo about the spies “entering” and “laying” (2.1) from the author. But this probably does not really matter as much as the character of Rahab and her status as a Canaanite.

Clearly, she is not someone with whom any Israelite is supposed to be even interacting. According to Moses’ words in Deuteronomy which the people are supposed to be reciting and committing to memory, there is no reason to associate with any Canaanite ever (e.g. Deut. 7.1-3). The message seems to be that the only good Canaanite is a dead Canaanite… or something to that effect. And yet here we find Rahab who is bold, clever, articulate and knowledgeable about the LORD and recent Israelite history, willing to risk much for the sake of these spies and concerned for the welfare of her family. She appears some distance away from the caricature of the totally depraved, baby-burning, blood-eating Canaanite (e.g. Wisdom of Solomon 12.3-5).

In fact, she comes across a lot better than the Israelite spies who surely act questionably by secretly spying in the first place, entering Rahab’s adult establishment, doing a deal with Rahab guaranteeing her safety, and then, in a laughable display of machismo, giving her a warning not to break her promise.

We, the readers, learn something crucial here. We learn that the negative rhetoric about indigenous people like the Canaanites, might turn out to be nothing more than rhetoric. Rahab is a good person and we can assume that the family she is so keen to protect are good people as well. Upon the evidence of Rahab, it might be that the message Israel has received about the Canaanites is in need of serious revision.

There is indeed something of great import here. It is so incredibly easy for us to believe in – go along with – even speak into negative stereotypes about people.

Decisions we make and actions we take are often guided by the rhetoric we accept about individuals or communities. Such ideas are those that we have often heard from our birth and grown up with. And yet, Jesus teaches us “do not judge… do not condemn” (Luke 6.37). No one deserves to be written-off as worthless – and certainly not by us. Because who are we? Are we so much better than anyone else so as to cast judgment upon their value as a human being?

I can certainly recall occasions where my personal prejudgments about certain people – or types of people – have been utterly dismantled by meeting individuals. This is something worth thinking carefully about.