now is the time

A text which I have thought a lot about since being in South Africa, Jesus' story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), came up again last Sunday in the sermon of Pastor Ntapo. Some of his key insights are below.

• The time for salvation is now. It is unwise to put off those difficult things in life which we must do. The rich man, in the pastor's words, "never took time to consider his life" because he was "caught up in the things of the world", caring more about his purple robes and fine feasts (v. 19) than the essence of life itself. Though the pastor himself did not say this, by implication that essence of life which the rich man should have considered was available to him in the person of Lazarus, that "poor man at his gate" (v. 20). By opening his eyes to see the poor man, "covered with sores" (v. 20), the rich man might have realized his own vulnerability and ultimate fate as one subject to death. He realized his own pain only after death, "tormented in Hades" (v. 23), when it was too late for him to amend his ways.
• The laws of God's creation are fixed. When the rich man finally realizes his own vulnerability, he wishes that Lazarus might be sent to him in Hades with water to cool his tongue (v. 24). "Father Abraham", the one to whom the rich man makes his request, denies it, in part on the basis that "between ["Abraham's bosom where Lazarus resides after death] and [Hades where the rich man resides after death] a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us" (v. 26). This point thus reaffirms the first point: the time that the Creator has set for human obedience is between birth and death--not after. This is a reality that we might want to protest but have absolutely no power to change. But realizing the order of creation, we do have the power to live life harmoniously, joyfully within it, in spite of life's struggles.
• A person remains in death what he or she was in life. Even if more chances to get life right, that is, after death, were available to us, they would come to nothing. Even torment in Hades could not change the rich man's behavior. He still imagined that he had the power to command Lazarus in the manner of many who are rich--he still imagined that Lazarus existed to serve him. Thus the rich man called out to Abraham, "send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames" (v. 24). This point is also related to the previous two: because the time is now by order of God, those who seek comfort in death in relation to others must seek it in life in relation to others. If the rich man in death now wants to see Lazarus, albeit from an assumed position of superiority, why would he not see him in life who "lay at his gate" (v. 20)? In order to relate to others in death, we must be related to them in life. If we shall live with them then, we will live with them now.

In summary, therefore, the emphasis lies in this life. All roads lead to the present. By the grace of God, righting the wrongs of the past now will secure for us a goodly future.

-Joe

of Pilate and the poor

Since re-reading it a couple of weeks ago, Jesus' conversation with Pilate (John 18:33-38) has been on my mind.

Some observations:

1. Pilate acts here as any worldly king does, ultimately disinterested in the plight of the poor in his kingdom. This is obvious from his lack of effort in distinguishing Jesus from the people who have handed him over. Those who handed him over, of course, were Jesus' own people, in the words of Pilate to Jesus "your own nation and the chief priests" (v. 35). Also by implication these are simply what the text calls "the Jews", for Pilate is perturbed that Jesus insinuates that Pilate might be able to tell for himself whether Jesus is truly or not "King of the Jews." "I am not a Jew, am I", Pilate retorts, aghast that he might be associated on any level with the subjects of his rule. In effect Pilate is saying, "I don't know them, I can't know them, indeed I do not want to know them." It is unthinkable that a man of his power shares anything in common with the subjects of his kingdom. Because of this attitude, it is not surprising that Pilate is surprised that Jesus' own people would hand him over; the impassible king does not sense that conflict rages within and among the subjected peoples of his reign. He can only ask,"What have you done?", implying an act of offense great enough to warrant a request for crucifixion, because he sees no reason otherwise why the Jews should be at war among themselves. This is not because Pilate regards the Jews as exceptionally good people, immune to conflict, but simply because he does not care whether they are typically human enough to have passion, disagreement, conflict. To Pilate they are "only" Jews, the subjects of his rule, objects to be moved or crushed for his political gain. In Pilate's eyes, the only conflict of the Jews is that between them and him; they are all out to get him because everyone and everything must always be about the king.

2. Jesus, on the other hand, is not out to get the king, at least not in the manner that Pilate fears. Jesus, rather, contra Pilate, is only concerned with the plight of the poor, his own people (which is to say, and not with Pilate). Jesus knows that the fight which Pilate fears from the Jews is not the fight that will free them. He will not permit them to fight, and see, as he explains to Pilate, his followers do not fight "to keep me from being handed over to the Jews" (v. 36). Rather, Jesus' people will be free on account of their trust in another kingdom--one "not from this world"--and another king. The sign of that trust will be their refusal to fight in the manner of Pilate, with the weapons of blood and flesh. The sign will be that they will "be handed over", but they will hand no one over. It is the sign that distinguishes Jew from Jew, the sign also Pilate might have seen if he had eyes to sees.

3. The question remains whether the sons and daughters of Pilate will ever see. The historical record is not good (At this moment Barack Obama has handed over 30,000 more U.S. troops to a war in Afghanistan). We have little reason to doubt whether the kingdoms of the world have not really been "given over" to Satan (Lk. 4:6), and whether therefore the poor are not more worthy of our attention in the hope of a better world.

-Joe

gleanings on gleaning

Yesterday, my wife preached, by request, on the topic "the responsibility of mothers in building up the church". She chose as her primary example the story of Ruth, in which Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi orchestrate a plan to provide for their own security.

After the service, while commenting on the sermon, the pastor remarked that "this Jewish culture [in the biblical text, the story of Ruth] is so much like our [Xhosa, and in particular, Pondo] own." The example he went on to cite from Ruth was the part in which she, in her economically-disadvantaged status as a widow, gleans grain behind Boaz's workers at the harvest (Ruth 2). This, of course, is a narrative example of Jewish law, in which provision in this manner was written in on behalf of the poor (Lev. 19:9-10). The pastor said, "it was just like that in the village where I grew up. The poor people would follow behind the harvesters collecting mealies."

I do not know whether there was a prescriptive dimension to this practice in Pondoland, whether the haves were sanctioned to leave what fell for the have-nots (if so, the law in this case was "only" oral). Regardless, the stories of the Bible read as a close descriptive parallel to many African cultures, and therefore also contain great power.

On the other hand, "these practices are no more there [in his boyhood village]," says the pastor. Because the pastor was born in 1973, it seems to reason that his memories of gleaning would date from at least into the early-mid 1980s. It also indicates how rapid was the erosion of such practices: from a fact of life to nonexistent in 25 years. An entire generation of children, though rural, has grown up ignorant of the old agrarian ways. In that case, a new generation of Africans will perhaps also have to listen harder for the voice of God in ancient texts whose relevance was once so overtly obvious to their mothers and fathers.

-Joe