multiplication and justice

The sermon at Nelson Mandela's Qunu funeral service yesterday, delivered by Methodist bishop Ziphozihle Siwa, reflected an interpretation that has become popular in some liberation theology circles.  While the bishop used his platform to focus on Mandela the advocate for justice--certainly a necessary complement to the more popular Mandela as agent of forgiveness--his interpretation does not to me do justice to the biblical texts which enshrine our notions of justice in the first place.

In the preacher's increasingly-worn interpretation, the third slave in Jesus' parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) is the truly heroic one, the one whose decision to bury his only talent exposed an unjust system because it forced the master to admit that he is indeed cruel and unjust, "reaping where he does not sow, and gathering where he does not scatter" (25:26).  In such a reading, the third slave is noble because he refuses to play the game of an unjust (read "capitalist") system, unlike his two  "comrades in slavery" (Siwa's term) who invest their money presumably along the lines of their master's expectations.  The first two slaves are collaborators; the third fearless in his resistance to evil.  Even so, the clear commendation of the third slave in such an interpretation fits awkwardly with the text's simple condemnation of that slave, a contradiction which the preacher himself left unresolved.  For indeed, although the action of the third slave was applied to the life of Nelson Mandela, so too was the master's approval ("well done, good and trustworthy slave")--an approval in the parable which is given only to the slaves who did not bury their master's property.

Fortunately, it is not necessary to substantiate our claims for justice by setting aside a simple reading of the text, a reading which reconciles our modern dichotomy between the increase of wealth and the doing of justice.  If indeed, we are able for a minute to set aside either our "capitalist" or "communist" hermeneutics, we will find that the context of Matthew 25 enshrines both dignity and justice for those who have little and the abundance that is the hallmark of God's creation.

On its own, the parable of the talents might be read straightforwardly as a call not to "squander" the gifts that God has entrusted to his people, but to use them to bring about an increase of God's goodness in the world.  Nevertheless, because the text has been susceptible to a reading that enshrines a capitalist principle of investment apart from concern for those who have little, it is helpful to be reminded of the parable within its larger, literary context.  The parable of the talents, then, does not appear in Matthew's gospel on its own but as a continuation of the teaching about the coming of the Son of Man in chapter 24.  Moreover, within chapter 25, the parable of the talents is the middle of three stories which Jesus told, the first being the parable of the ten virgins and the third being the parable of the sheep and the goats.  All three parables are set within the context of the Lord's coming, and illustrate the type of life that befits those who are waiting for him.

The first and third parables, the ten virgins and the sheep and the goats, highlight different values of the life lived in hope of the kingdom which is coming.  In fact, those values that each teaches may seem not merely different but contradictory.  While in the parable of the ten virgins, for example, the five who were wise entered into the kingdom because they did not give some of their oil to their foolish counterparts who had made no provision for their lamps should their initial oil run out, the parable of the sheep and the goats commends those who give to those who have little, to the "least of these" (Matt 25:40).  If the parable of the ten virgins commends not giving as a way to the kingdom, the parable of the sheep and the goats commends giving as the way to the kingdom.  How can Jesus teach two seemingly contradictory values?

Perhaps the answer simply is that the life which brings glory to God is about both giving and not giving, withholding and bestowing, each in its own time.  In the parable of the ten virgins, the will to give not is the reflection of the broader purpose of accompanying the bridegroom into his kingdom.  The wise virgins know their task, and base their decision not to give to the foolish on the consideration that "there will not be enough [oil] for you and for us" in order to light the bridegroom's way (25:9).  To spread the oil too thinly among too many is to extinguish the light, whereas a few burning brightly can show the way.  In such a situation, what the foolish need is not to receive the oil which will soon be exhausted, but to replenish their own stocks so that they too may enter the banquet.  Some things the wise cannot give the foolish, but the foolish may become wise by knowing the purpose of their existence, namely, to participate in the glory (light) of God.  Perhaps we may then say that the parable of the ten virgins does not counsel not giving, but precisely giving in the form of the admonition of the foolish by the wise.

On the other hand, there is a time for giving not only in word but in deed, in giving to others who have want of the physical gifts we all need to survive.  In the parable of the sheep and the goats, the recipients of giving are described as neither foolish nor wise but in need--hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, sick, imprisoned (25:37, 42-43).  To give to these determines our worthiness to enter into eternal life (25:46), and reflects the justice of God that all should have enough to live.

We may now observe that the parable of the talents likewise commends the will to give which the parable of the ten virgins expresses as admonition and the parable of the sheep and the goats expresses as compassion.  The first act of giving is that of the master who "summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them" (25:14).  This master need not be, judged by human standards, the absentee landlord who reaps what others have sown, but the gracious creator to whom we all owe our existence, the God who loved us enough to entrust creation to our care.  Our slavery, therefore, is not the inequality of otherwise inherent equals--a predicament known simply as sin--but the indebtedness of creatures to their Creator; the slavery described by the parable is not the inequality of injustice but the inequality of grace.  Moreover, if God is the master and grace is God's will, then we who are slaves are accountable to that grace.  As God was gracious with God's gifts, entrusting them to our care, so we are responsible to "be fruitful and multiply", bearing fruit now for the kingdom which is to come (Gen 1:28).  What we are not to do, that which is inconsistent with God's giving, is to bury the property entrusted to us.  Far from being the commendable act exposing the system of injustice, resolving not to multiply wealth endowed precludes the extension of that wealth to others, thus defeating the ends of justice.  At the same time, that which may not be overlooked is that very end itself--that the purpose for which we were created is not multiplication for multiplication's sake, but multiplication for sharing the goodness of God (justice).

Seen within the context of the parable of the ten virgins, we might reaffirm the call of the parable of the talents to the responsibility of each person to use his or her gifts in the service of God's kingdom.  Just as the foolish virgins could not receive the oil which they were not prepared to hold, so, on account of his carelessness, the third slave was unable to "enter into the joy of [his] master" (25:21, 23).  His failure to care was the forfeit of his talent to the one who had been "trustworthy in a few things" (25:21, 23, 28).  That some receive the more that others might have had is, in certain cases, the evidence of the interplay between responsibility and carelessness.  But viewed within the light of compassion to "the least of these", that personal responsibility which the parable of the talents upholds is always for the sake of justice.  God's first commandment to his creatures--"be fruitful and multiply"--always goes hand-in-hand with the greatest commandment--"love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and your neighbor as yourself" (Gen 1:22, 28; Mt 22:36-40).

Our choice, then, is not between multiplication and justice, or between a personal responsibility and a communal ethic.  In any moment, we must choose how to love God and neighbor, faithfully using the gifts entrusted to our care.

-Joe

no minor message

From Monday, I've started a one-on-one study with a student leader at Bethany Bible School.  As our discussion circled around the theme of the Old Testament prophets, I shared with him certain "summaries" of the Old Testament Law.  Of course, we discussed the centrality of the Shema, Deuteronomy 6:4-9, the commandment Jesus chose to summarize the Law, coupled with Leviticus 19:18.  Also I pointed him to Micah 6:6-8, whose triad of "do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God" has been cited as the summation of the Law within the history of Jewish biblical interpretation.  Other rabbis boiled Micah 6:8 down to Habakkuk 2:4: "the just shall live by faith."  Quite naturally, therefore, our discussion highlighted the interrelatedness of faith, justice, mercy, humility, and love.  To put it another way, what it means to have faith is to walk humbly with God, accordingly living justly with and showing mercy to others.  That all sounds very much like loving God with all one's heart, soul, and might, and one's neighbor as oneself.

Within our study, my friend testified to me of Micah 6:8 that "this was his first time to see this verse." He also had this to say of the "minor prophets", the corpus of twelve prophetic books of which Micah and Habakkuk are two:

"They are not minor in meaning.  They are very direct.  I sometimes go into Christian bookstores and buy books with 200, 300 pages.  But they don't say anything new.  These books [the minor prophets] say far more in fewer words."

-Joe

joy in the judgment

Today I've been studying Ecclesiastes 3:16-22 in preparation for an upcoming lesson.

In this passage, Qoholeth, the "Teacher" of Ecclesiastes (1:1), ruminates on the fate of human beings.  The teacher does not believe in life after death.  The teacher does not share the voice of Isaiah, that those who die in the Lord "shall live, their corpses shall rise" (Isa 26:19), nor the hope of Daniel that "many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to everlasting shame and contempt" (Dan 12:2).  Far from these rare affirmations of resurrection in the prophetic and apocalyptic literature of the Old Testament, the wisdom of Ecclesiastes is that human beings "are but animals" (3:18).  Humans and animals share the same "fate"; they are one in spirit (or breath) and flesh ("dust") (3:19).  Perhaps in rebuttal of a more optimistic view of human destiny, the teacher sees little reason to hope that "the human spirit goes upward and the spirit of animals goes downward" (3:21).  His summary is that "all go to one place" (3:20).

If the teacher's conclusion on the fate of humans and animals was that they die to "one" and the same "place", it was his vexation that "in the place of judgment, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there" (3:16) that led him to that conclusion.  The troubling proposition of the one and same place of judgment (or "justice", Hebrew mishpat) and wickedness, of good and evil, of saints and sinners, leads him to "the one place" of humans and animals.  Because wickedness flourishes in the place of righteous judgment,  in death humans go to the same place as animals.  In the teacher's mind, the reality of the one place of wickedness and righteousness is somehow related to the one place of humans and animals.

What is the relation?  In the teacher's mind, the one place of death follows from the same place of justice and wickedness because "God will judge the righteous and the wicked" (3:17).  The teacher, far from having abandoned hope, clings to faith in the judgment of God.  The wicked's standing, not falling, in the place of judgment, would seem to be evidence of the injustice and impotence of the world's Creator--if but for one equally conspicuous phenomenon.  For, just as the teacher has observed that it is common for the wicked to sit in the judgment seat, lording it over the just, he has observed that all human beings--righteous and wicked--die with the animals.  Just as surely as, in death, "humans have no advantage over the animals", so the wicked, by fact of their humanity, have no advantage over the righteous. Because of the animals, the place of judgment is not in the end overrun by wickedness; the witness of the animals suggests that a righteous God will yet pull the wicked from their thrones.

Consequently, while the perspective of the teacher is not exactly resurrection hope, it is nonetheless biblical faith. If the teacher could not affirm as much as Isaiah and Daniel, Paul and, of course, Jesus (“I am the Resurrection”) (Jn 11:25), he does, like them, “entrust himself to the one who judges justly” (1 Pet 2:23). Such trust, moreover, commends a distinctive course of living. For Jesus, trusting God for judgment sealed his own perseverance in love that refuses to return violence for violence. Paul, confident in God's vindication of the righteous through the resurrection of Jesus, counseled the Corinthians to “be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord” (1 Cor 15:58). The teacher wrote that “there is nothing better than that all should enjoy their work, for that is their lot” (3:22). Unless we view enjoyment of the work that God has given us to do as evidence of selfishness (as though working for God should not bring us happiness), the teacher's course of action is a welcome contribution to the biblical canon. Joy in our living is not the sign of self-satisfaction but of our justification by faith in God.

-Joe

"What they said pleased the whole community"

We just had the privilege of having Hlobisile Nxumalo, director of Acts of Faith, a youth program in Swaziland, lead our workshop March 1-2 at Bethany Bible School.  Hlobi is trained as an accountant, but her broader passion seems to be management and, in particular, management as it pertains to the church.  She led the students of BBS in thinking about how they lead and participate in meetings in their churches.  She emphasized processes of communal decision making and building consensus in the church on divisive issues.

In her presentation on Saturday, Hlobi drew our attention to Acts 6:1-7, the text which tells of the choosing of the first deacons in the early church.  Hlobi stressed verse 5a: "What they said pleased the whole community."  Within the text, verse 5a might be quickly overlooked, a throwaway comment on the way toward a greater point.  I suspected, nevertheless, that in fact Hlobi had directed our eyes toward the very structural heart of the text--and thus the interpretive key to its message as a unit.

As I investigated the structure of Acts 6:1-7, I found an unmistakable inclusio, a two-part frame marking off the text as a distinct unit of thought.  The text begins by emphasizing that, "during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number" (6:1); it ends with a similar thought: "the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem" (6:7).  In other words, the inclusio in the text pertains to the growth of the church; the church moves from growth to growth.  Growth is the frame of the text.

This is not to say, however, that the growth of the church is something to be taken for granted, an inexorable harvest of increase until disciples of Jesus cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.  On the contrary, the growth of the church passes through many troubles and trials, progressions and recessions more akin to the tides crashing on the beach during the course of a day.  Thus we read that, "during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food" (6:1).  With an initial burst of growth comes conflict.  Precisely on the heels of triumph comes frustration.  The sailing of the church is not smooth.  As the disciples were increasing, the Hellenists were arguing against the Hebrews over the equality of care for widows.  The church increased; the church was dividing.

The conflict over equal care, a matter of justice, might have destroyed the church, fractured the hard-won work of Christ's cross which had broken down the dividing wall of hostility between Hebrew and Hellenist.  Instead, however, the conflict was an extension within the life of the church of the cross of its Lord, an opportunity to confront the powers of injustice and dispel them through perseverance in love for others.  So it was that "the twelve", the acknowledged leaders of the church, "called together the whole community of disciples" and proposed a distinct course of action toward justice (6:2, 3-4).  Their proposal--the appointment of deacons (servant leaders) to be responsible for the distribution of food to Hellenist and Hebrew alike--"pleased the whole community" (6:5a).  The community which the twelve had "called together" to discuss the problem of injustice was the same community which was "pleased" by the appointment of deacons.

One of Hlobi's main points, therefore, was that the transformation of the conflict, signaled in the story by the satisfaction of the "whole community" (v. 5a), was the involvement of the "whole community" in the decision-making process.  Because the twelve had "called together the whole community", the "whole community" was "pleased".  The solution to the problem belonged to the whole community as much as it belonged to the twelve.

In addition, we might add the following lessons from this text:

1. Don't rest on your laurels.  Times of frustration are bound to follow times of triumph.  Frustration need not have the final word, but the church will need to work through conflict.  In the positive, this might be expressed, in the parlance of the New Testament's apocalyptic texts, as the injunction to "Keep awake" or "Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints" (Mk 13:35, 37; Rev 13:10).

2. Growth is dependent upon maintenance.  The increase of the community is related to the health of the community.  The church's inner life affects its outer witness.  The life and processes of the community have a direct affect upon its capacity for attracting outsiders.  The church must thus attend to its inner life, to the maintaining of justice among its members, and to the spiritual practices that enable it to attend to the needs of members.  Thus the twelve were wise in not forsaking "the word of God in order to wait on tables" even as the "waiting on tables" through the appointment of deacons was the solution to the needs of its members.  Spirituality and justice are the requirements for lasting growth.

-Joe

taking supper

When I taught on the theme of the Letters of Paul earlier this month, I used 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 as a case study in the thought of Paul.  As I had spent much time reading through the Pauline corpus in my preparation, I was drawn to a threefold emphasis on Paul’s personal call (or his relationship to the Lord Jesus Christ); Paul’s eschatological focus (or his focus on “last things”, which for Paul meant that the resurrection of Jesus was the fulfillment and “first fruits” of a final age, the embodiment in the present of the world still to come); and Paul’s ecclesiological focus (the centrality of the ekklesia, the church, to Paul’s thought, and also to his personal call and his eschatology).  The importance of his call, his belief that the old world was ending and the new world had come in the resurrected Christ, and his conviction that the church was the sign of the resurrection and that new world, seem to be the theological bases on which Paul formulated specific and contextually-shaped guidance on the everyday ethical issues facing his church communities.  1 Corinthians 11:17-34 is one textual illustration, among many potential options within his writings, of Paul’s theologically-based moral reasoning.

The problem with which 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 deals is “divisions among [the Corinthian church]” (v. 18), specifically manifested in the church’s common meal.  Paul summarizes the problem for the Corinthians as he has heard about it:

“For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk” (v. 21).

In contrast to what the church’s meal was purported to be, Paul, in light of the evidence, asserts that the Corinthians are indeed not eating “the Lord’s Supper” (v. 20).  Paul then proceeds to remind the Corinthian church what the supper of the Lord did entail, and assumes that the contrast between it and the Corinthians’ practice is obvious.

But is it obvious to us?  How is the remembrance of Jesus’ eating with his disciples on the night he was betrayed (v. 23) an antidote to the church’s practice of eating together?  What is it about the tradition of Jesus’ last supper that judged the Corinthians’ habits at supper?

Perhaps Paul’s intended contrast can be found in his use of the Greek verb lambano , to take, as he applies it to the supper etiquette of both the Lord Jesus and the Corinthian church.  Whereas “each” of the Corinthian believers or “each” of the Corinthian church factions, according to Paul, “goes ahead [prolambanei, literally takes before] with your own supper”, “the Lord Jesus . . . took [elaben] a loaf of bread and gave it to others.  Whereas the Corinthian Christians took and consumed the common food before everyone had had a chance to eat, Jesus—the honored head of the household—took the bread of the meal, gave thanks, broke it, and said, “This is my body that is for you” (v. 24).  Whereas the Corinthians take their meal before everyone has been served, Jesus gives that which is his to others before serving himself.

It is this Jesus way of taking supper that Paul commends as the antidote to the Corinthians’ hunger and drunkenness, and which forms Paul’s specific counsel to the Corinthian church: not take before (v. 21) but “wait for one another” (v. 33).

As Paul moves from the problem (“taking before”) to the solution (“wait for one another”), his call, his eschatology, and his ecclesiology are clearly in view.  In reciting the Jesus tradition of supper for the Corinthians, Paul claims it as his own.  “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you” (v. 23).  That which Paul saw fit to hand on to others he first had to welcome in his own life.  Paul’s personal connection to Jesus, his experience of being embraced by his Lord, is the strength by which and for which he hands on the way of Jesus to others.

Moreover, Paul’s purpose in handing on the way of Jesus to others is eschatological; by eating the bread and drinking the cup in the manner of Jesus the church “proclaims the Lord’s death until he comes” (v. 26).  Though the resurrection of Jesus is not here explicit (but see chapter 15!), it is here for Paul the invisible pivot between the Lord’s death and his coming again.  Because he is raised, the Jesus who died will come again.

Finally, it is up to the church, the ekklesia, to proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes, that is, to embody now within its common life—indeed in the ordinary but essential practices of eating and drinking—the just and equal sharing of the age to come.  In the time between the passing of the old and the arrival of the new, the community of God’s people is the frail but precious witness to the hope of a new creation, the cause for which Paul urges greater faithfulness to the one in whom all things hold together.

-Joe

God’s justice, humans’ faith

For Wednesday’s discipleship class we studied Luke 18:1-8, often called the parable of “the persistent widow.”

The message of the text advances through four statements which may be divided into two sets of two. The first set is the repetition of the description of the “unjust judge”, the judge “in a certain city who neither feared God nor had respect for humans.” In its first appearance, the description is in the voice of Jesus the Narrator; in its second, it is the voice of the judge through Jesus the Actor (as Jesus plays the part of the judge). In both, the description is of a judge “who neither fears God nor has respect for humans” (vv. 2, 4). This is the characterization of the judge that we are not supposed to miss: no respect for God or humans; in short, he is, as Jesus calls him, “unjust” (v.6).

If the first set of repetitions is about the unjust judge, the second set of two is about the just judge, God. The first statement of the second set comes as Jesus’ question to his disciples: “Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” (v. 7). The second statement, which repeats the critical information of the first, is Jesus’ emphatic answer to his own question: “I tell you, [God] will quickly grant justice to them” (v. 8). This, then, is the critical characterization of God: God grants justice—and “quickly” (v. 8).

Between the four statements of two sets lies the action on which the text turns—the action of “a widow” (vv. 3, 5). Because she kept “bothering” the unjust judge “for justice against [her] opponent”, the judge granted her justice. The unjust judge himself described the situation:

“ ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for humans, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming’” (v. 5).

The text continues, “And the Lord said, ‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them” (vv. 6-8).

There is an implicit comparison here in Jesus’ words between the widow and God’s “chosen ones who cry to him day and night” (v. 7). Though the widow was no one’s chosen, most certainly not that of the unjust judge to whom she continually cried, she received justice from the judge. How much more, then, will those whom the Judge loves receive justice? In fact, if God the Just is so predisposed towards his “chosen ones”, the absence of justice in human relationships must be a thing dependent upon the disposition of human beings—especially, as the parable seems to indicate, those humans who have been the victims of injustice. Though the widow, for example, may not have been responsible for the initial act of injustice that befell her, her incapacity to plead for justice is the cause of injustice’s continued reign. On the other hand, as the text teaches, her capacity to plead for justice—her perseverance through injustice—is that which restores to her her justice. Her perseverance is that which wins her respect precisely from a judge who does not “respect humans.” Though the unjust judge “for a while” did not have “a will” to grant the widow her justice, God has always a will to do so “quickly” (v. 4, 8). If, therefore, the lack of will is not God’s, the tarrying of justice in the lives of God’s people must owe to their own. God is looking for a people who care about justice enough to tell him about it. God is looking for a people with faith enough not to give up in the face of injustices.

And so, Jesus wants to know, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (v. 8)

-Joe

mob justice and the justice of God

See this reflection on siyahamba.

-Joe