02.25.08
This Week’s Sermon – Through Death Valley
Hi everyone! We continue the sermon series on Psalm 23 this week by looking at the verse about traversing the valley of the shadow of death. There is so much evil out there; praise God we have nothing to fear!
SCRIPTURE – Psalm 23 – The New Jerusalem Bible
Yahweh is my shepherd, I lack nothing. In grassy meadows he lets me lie. By tranquil streams he leads me to restore my spirit. He guides me in paths of saving justice as befits his name. Even were I to walk in a ravine as dark as death I should fear no danger, for you are at my side. Your staff and your crook are there to soothe me. You prepare a table for me under the eyes of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup brims over. Kindness and faithful love pursue me every day of my life. I make my home in the house of Yahweh for all time to come.
SERMON
A Sheep’s Eye View sermon series
#3 – Through Death Valley
Feb. 27, 2008
Technically, we are halfway through Psalm 23. So far, we’ve looked at three of the six verses, and this morning, we make our way into the second half of these famous words, looking at them through the eyes of a sheep.
A very important shift has taken place here. Up to this point in the psalm, life has been good for the sheep. He’s talked about what a great shepherd he has and how that shepherd has supplied all his needs. He’s talked about how the shepherd helps him find green pastures for food and clean water for drinking. He’s said that his shepherd restores his failing health and guides him down good paths.
But notice the pronoun shift starting with verse 4. It’s no longer third person (he restores my soul); it’s now second person (for you are with me). The sheep is no longer boasting across the fence to other sheep; he’s now talking directly to his shepherd.
That shift makes sense when you consider the simultaneous shift in tone. Life has taken a downward turn; the green pastures have turned into dark valleys. And yet, even when the light is blotted out by shadows, the shepherd is still there, comforting the sheep.
It’s amazing how the author of this psalm, King David, used his experience growing up as a shepherd to write these words and tease out the metaphor of God as a shepherd. For example, understanding the shepherd’s yearly routines helps explain these verses.
Winter was always spent on the safety of the sheep ranch, but as soon the weather started to warm up, the shepherd would begin to lead his flock of sheep up the mountain, following the receding snow to find the greenest grass. As summer wore on, the shepherd would lead his flock further and further up the mountain to the most remote meadows. Then during fall, when the snow started falling on the highest parts of the mountains, the shepherd would begin to lead his sheep back down, ending up back on the sheep ranch just as winter set in. Then, next spring, the shepherd would start the journey all over again.
During the months away from the ranch, the sheep were completely alone with the shepherd, and their well-being was totally in the shepherd’s hands. The sheep trusted the shepherd to lead them up safe paths and to fresh food and water. No matter where they went, they trusted that the shepherd would go with them.
Here’s the thing about leading sheep up a mountain: you can’t go straight up. It’s hard to find boots to fit them. The shepherd would have to take the gentlest grade to get higher up the mountain, which often meant going through valleys. Valleys would also be where the best grass and water would be found so that the sheep could be nourished.
But valleys also presented serious dangers to the sheep. It was where predators like wolves would lurk, waiting for a flock to pass into the valley like a woolly dessert cart. Valleys also made the sheep susceptible to sudden and intense storms, rockslides, and avalanches. Valleys were not always safe places to be, but the shepherd knew that the only way to get up the mountain was to go through the valleys.
We can all probably relate to that. I believe within each of us is an idealistic desire to have constant mountaintop experiences with God, when we are able to bask in God’s presence and savor God’s love free from any dangers. But realistically we each know that those mountaintop experiences are few and far between, and the only way to get to them is by going through valleys.
In my counseling class in seminary, we talked about something related to valleys called the “new normal.” Life goes along hunky-dory until all of a sudden – bam! – we are hit with a crisis that throws our whole life out of whack – an illness, a death, a job loss, a move. Once we get our bearings, what we try to do is to return our life to the normal we had before. But the crisis has fundamentally altered things. Life can never go back to the normal we once knew. What we can do is to try and establish a new normal, created in light of how our life has changed. I have heard many, many people tell me that it was in the midst of the crisis that they experienced God, and that God walked with them out of that crisis and into their new normal.
Notice what the NIV version of the psalm says: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. It doesn’t say even though I walk into the valley or get mired in the valley. It says through the valley. The implication here is that if God is with us, there are no dead-end streets. We may not be able to see the other side of the valley, but if God has walked with us into it, God will walk with us out of it.
But that’s not always much consolation. We don’t like valleys, do we? There are shadows there, shadows that remind us of death. We’ll pray and plead to avoid the valleys, and kick and scream as we go into them. Why? Maybe we’re afraid that things will never be normal again, and the truth is they very well might not be. But in the valley is where we can find unexpected refreshment, and often times where we learn the skills we will need to serve God in the future.
I officiated a wedding a few years ago, and at the reception I was talking with a couple who were there without their daughter, Megan. When I asked why Megan couldn’t attend, the mom tearfully said that Megan had just been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. And I said to myself, “OK, God, I get it. Here’s my new normal.” I ended up talking with Megan’s parents for an hour about my experience with MS.
The valleys in our lives are not dead ends. God can use even the most painful experience to bring God glory. It is the person who has lost someone who is best able to comfort someone in their grief. The person who can best minister to a broken heart is one who knows how it feels. The best person to walk with someone through a valley is the person who’s been in that valley themselves, and can attest that God was there with them.
Because God is there, in our valleys, we need not fear, and the sheep names two pieces of equipment that provide comfort. When shepherds were making their yearly trek up and down the mountain, they couldn’t afford to carry a lot of equipment with them. There were shepherd shacks along the route with basic necessities, so the shepherd only needed what he could carry for long distances. That often meant just a rod and a staff.
The rod was the main source of defense. From an early age, shepherds would practice using this weapon until it became a natural extension of them. They could hurl a rod hundreds of feet with great accuracy, striking a coyote who was about to swipe a sheep or a sheep who was about to walk into danger. The rod was a weapon of power and authority.
The rod was also used to keep the sheep healthy. The shepherd would use the rod to pull back the sheep’s wool and inspect its skin for diseases. In the same way, God searches us, looking for the places we might need healing. And the rod could also be used to discipline a sheep if they went astray. It was the shepherd’s way of telling the sheep “No”.
All of these uses of the rod correspond to the role of God’s word in our lives. If we take the Bible seriously and spend time getting to know what it says, it can play all these parts for us. Through it God can protect us, search us, discipline us, and keep us healthy. If we let the shepherd do his job in our lives, we have nothing to fear, even when walking through the dark valleys of life.
In contrast to the rod, the staff had a different purpose. The staff is probably the most recognized tool of the shepherd. You don’t see any modern depictions of shepherds without their trusty shepherd’s crook. In the same way that a stethoscope identifies a doctor, the staff identifies a shepherd.
The staff had multiple uses. The crook end could be used to reach out and draw sheep away from dangerous situations. It could be used to fetch sheep that had fallen into water or gotten tangled in a bramble bush. It could be used to lift a lamb and return it to its mother.
The staff was also used to guide the sheep. The shepherd would gently use the straight end to guide the sheep by resting it against their side and nudging them in the right direction. The staff was also used as a way for the shepherd to let the sheep know he was there with them. Many times shepherds would walk beside the sheep and rest the end of the staff against their side. It was a way of keeping in touch with the sheep, and knowing their shepherd was close at hand would bring them comfort.
As we move through the valley of Lent and closer to the death of Jesus, we are reminded by Psalm 23 that we don’t walk this road alone. It is in this valley where we can find rest, nourishment, and the presence of our Good Shepherd. There is so much in this world that scares us, whether we want to admit it or not. How comforting it is to know that with the Good Shepherd at our side, we can walk through valleys and up mountains.
02.17.08
This week’s sermon – Green Pastures and Still Waters
Greetings, everyone! We continue our Lenten sermon series by looking at Psalm 23. This week’s reading is from the Living Bible, on the sermon focuses on the section dealing with God’s leading. Have a blessed week!
SCRIPTURE – Psalm 23 – The Living Bible
Because the Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need! He lets me rest in the meadow grass and leads me beside quiet streams. He restores my failing health. He helps me do what honors him most. Even when walking through the dark valley of death I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me, guarding, guiding me all the way. You provide delicious food for me in the presence of my enemies. You have welcomed me as your guest; blessings overflow! Your goodness and unfailing kindness shall be with me all my life, and afterwards I will live with you forever in your home.
SERMON
A Sheep’s Eye View sermon series
#2 – Green Pastures and Still Waters
Feb. 17, 2008
We continue our study of Psalm 23 today by focusing on the section that starts, “He lets me rest in the meadow grass.” Other translations say, “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” Green pastures. I remember those. Thankfully, there’s no line in here that says, “He makes me lie down and make snow angels, he leads me beside salt-spraying snowplows.”
The section we are looking at today has a theme running through it. It’s the idea of moving, or more accurately, being led. The NIV version of this psalm says, “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” Makes me lie down, leads, guides.
Here’s an interesting difference between cows and sheep. If you want to get cows to go anywhere, you have to get behind them and push – and watch where you step. Cows have to be herded in order to be moved. But not sheep. For a sheep to go anywhere, it must be led. Sheep are followers. Sheep will not go anywhere that someone else – like their shepherd – has not gone first and shown them everything is all right.
Here’s an interesting point about the idea of a sheep being made to lie down. Sheep are very skittish animals. They’re high-maintenance Nervous Nellies. They have to reach a high level of comfort before the can relax. You can’t just point and say, “Fluffy, lie down!” They have to be free from fear, tension, aggravation, and hunger, all of which can be eliminated through the hard work of the shepherd.
How often do we get to just lie down, free from fear, tension, aggravation and hunger? In our Elders group last week, the question was asked, “What’s your favorite time of day?” Several of the Elders responded, “When everybody is gone from the house!” For me, it’s after our girls are in bed, and I can begin to unwind from the day. We crave and savor those precious moments of quietness, when our minds can rest from the daily fears and tensions.
But how often do we intentionally rest this way? Based on the rate of heart attacks and stress-related illnesses in our country, I’d say not enough. Notice what the NIV translation says: “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” Sometimes I wonder if the detours in our lives are God’s way of making us lie down and rest. When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I was in the middle of my final semester in seminary and looking for my first job. I was emotionally drained and physically exhausted. And for five days, I had to lie down in a hospital bed, and I received incredible love and support from my wife and family, my friends, and my church. For my soul, that hospital bed was indeed a green pasture. Where are you green pastures in life? Where do you go to be restored? I found out that it’s better to choose to lie down than for your God-created body to make you lie down.
Here’s another thing about sheep you may not know: Sheep don’t like change. Sound like anyone you know? Sheep will stay in one place and graze and graze and graze there until all the grass is gone, unless someone leads them to greener pastures. Unless someone shows them there’s a better place, they’ll stay put.
When I was growing up, we had a wonderful Chesapeake Bay retriever named Beau. He was an awesome dog, but he had a nasty habit of drinking out of the toilets. Even if his water dish was completely full, if he walked by the bathroom he be like, “Hey, open bar!” I would call his name and lead him to his water bowl, and he’d look at me like, “Wow! Who put this here? This is great!”
Like Beau and like sheep, I wonder if often times we don’t settle for something because we think it’s the best thing available. If sheep don’t drink from pure water, they end up drinking from polluted water and picking up all kinds of internal parasites and disease. But they drink it anyway, because they think it’s the best water they can get. Beau drank from the toilet because he thought it was the only water available, until I showed him something better.
In our lives, we are hungry and thirsty for things beyond food and drink: we’re hungry and thirsty for meaning, for purpose, for fulfillment. W. Phillip Keller says in his book, “All the long and complex history of earth’s religions, pagan worship, and human philosophy is bound up with an insatiable thirst for God.” But too often we drink from polluted water to try and satisfy our need for fulfillment, without realizing that something much purer has been offered: the Living Water of Jesus Christ. In this psalm, David encourages us to look at our lives and the sources from which we satisfy our hunger and quench our thirst.
It is through the leading of our shepherd that we find the pastures and the water, the food and the drink we need to survive. And when life becomes treacherous, the psalmist reminds us that the shepherd restores our soul. Keller talks about a problem he often dealt with in his flock called a cast down sheep. Do you know what this is? This is when a sheep gets turned over on its back and can’t get up. As I age I’m beginning to resemble a sheep in that way, as well.
This was a serious threat to a sheep. If it lay there long enough, its intestinal gases would build up and it would die. The shepherd would have to find the sheep before predators found it, turn it upright, and rubs its limbs to get the blood flowing again.
How often in our lives do we feel cast down, like our lives have been turned over and we can’t get up? Sometimes we are tripped up by the circumstances of life, and sometimes we trip ourselves up. Some people think that when a follower of God falls, God becomes frustrated, fed up, even angry. But the picture painted here is that God runs to our side, wanting to help us up and restore us to balance.
A danger we face is that aren’t always aware of how easily we could become cast down. One of the major causes of overturned sheep is the sheep would stand for a long time on a soft patch of ground, its weight settling into the grass, and when it shifted its body to move, it would tumble.
There’s a word here about the importance of moving. When we stand in one place for too long, when we reside in the comfortable position, we are more susceptible to falling. Paul says this to the affluent Corinthian church: “If you think you are standing firm, be careful you don’t fall!” Because we sheep don’t like change, we’re vulnerable to entrenching ourselves in a certain way of thinking or living that can easily become destructive, or at least contrary to who God has called us to be.
Keller says that the greatest single safeguard a shepherd has in keeping his flock safe is to keep them on the move, helping them find green pastures, leading them to fresh water, keeping them from settling too long in one place. Sheep are notorious creatures of habit, and if they are left to their own devices, they will literally idle themselves to death.
The Christian life is not a stagnant life. It is a life ever on the move. This doesn’t mean geographically, although that’s true for some. It means a constant desire to grow, to learn, to seek new pastures and find new paths. Jesus says in John’s gospel, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” In fact, early Christians were called followers of The Way. Not The Rest Stop or the Loitering Place. The Way. Leading, guiding, and following all imply movement.
Here’s the thing: I am often my own worst speed bump, because I don’t want to follow. I don’t want to be led by someone, even if it’s down a path of righteousness. Why? Because who knows what’s best for me? Me! Nobody knows me like me, and nobody can make decisions for me like me, so nobody can lead me but me.
The problem is, such thinking will often have us drinking out of the toilet. We think we know best, because we’re humans and that’s what we do, when in fact there is someone who knows us even better than we know ourselves, and he calls us to follow him down paths of righteousness to honor his name.
Lent is the perfect time for us to look at the paths we are following and ask if those path lead to God’s glory, or someone else’s, or our own. God knows where to find the green pastures and the still waters, God knows how to restore the traffic jam that has become our souls, God calls us to follow him down paths that bring honor and glory to him. But like every journey, this movement starts with a single step, and that step is our willingness to let go of our own pretension and be led. Thanks be to Jesus, who has shown us the way. May he grant us the courage and the strength to get up and follow.
02.10.08
This Week’s Sermon – The Lord Is My Shepherd
Hi everyone! This week, in conjunction with the start of Lent, I’m beginning a new sermon series called “A Sheep’s Eye View,” in which we’ll taking a closer look at Psalm 23 through the eyes of a sheep. I hope that we can learn more about what it means to be a follower of God through this time-honored psalm. I hope it is a blessing to you!
SCRIPTURE – Psalm 23 (King James Version)
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
SERMON
A Sheep’s Eye View sermon series
#1 – The Lord Is My Shepherd
Feb. 10, 2008
It’s almost presumptuous to preach on Psalm 23. What more can you add to those words? It’s an almost perfect encapsulation of who God is for us. It’s no wonder this psalm is read at funerals and other important occasions. This psalm speaks to us, whether we are sick, in crisis, or concerned about a loved one. And it speaks to us wherever we are on the continuum of coping: anger, dread, depression, acceptance, grief, or gratitude. This is arguably the best known scripture passage in history.
But familiarity can be a double-edged sword. Sometimes we know the words so well that we don’t stop to think about what they mean. So for the season of Lent, we’re going to take a closer look at the beloved words of Psalm 23, but from a slightly different perspective. We’ll be exploring the Shepherd’s Psalm through the eyes of a sheep. Everyone say, “Baa!”
This makes sense when you consider the source. The author of this psalm, and the author of many of the psalms, was King David. Now, if you know David’s story, you know that he started out as a shepherd for his father Jesse. So who better to write a psalm about being God’s sheep than a shepherd?
It also helps to know something about the original readers. The first people to read or hear this psalm were probably simple, nomadic folks very familiar with nature and outdoor life. Unless you grew up in Mendota or some other farming community, you are probably unfamiliar with subjects like livestock, crops, and living off the land. That’s all the more reason to take a closer look at what this psalm says to us.
The other source I’m using for this series besides the psalm itself is a book called, “A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23” by W. Phillip Keller. The book was published the same year I was born – 1970 – which means its 29 years old. The author has the unique experience of being both a pastor and a shepherd. Before he became a lay pastor, Keller trained as an agrologist and worked for eight years as a sheep owner and rancher. So with the perspective of two shepherds – David and W. Phillip Keller – we’ll see what God can teach us about being Christians through this psalm.
Let’s look at the first line: the Lord is my shepherd. Even those few words speak volumes about our relationship to God. It also implies that we are sheep, which have been described as stubborn, smelly, slobbering animals. Please sniff your neighbor to determine if that’s an accurate description.
This line tells us first and foremost about God’s devotion to us. I bet very few of us know any shepherds, so I doubt we have any idea what is required to do the task. This was not a 40-hour a week job. They didn’t come home every night for dinner with the family. They were with the sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. During the day, they led the sheep to grass and water. They watched while the sheep grazed. They kept an eye out for predators like wolves. And at night, they actually slept in the sheep pen with the sheep to guard against theft and animal attack, which may explain why there weren’t invited to too many social gatherings. To be a shepherd meant commitment.
Jesus echoes that commitment in John’s gospel when he says, “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays his life down for his sheep.” Now, that’s commitment. In seminary, a member of the church I served was a dairy farmer, and one day he invited me out to his farm to see his work. He explained the process of taking care of the cows and getting the milk. I asked him, “What happens when a cow can no longer produce milk?” He smiled and says, “Then, she has a Big Mac Attack.”
That’s not commitment. But in contrast to a cow, sheep need endless attention and meticulous care, and a shepherd would devote himself to caring for his flock like a parent looking after her children. In fact, it was commonplace for shepherds to know each sheep individually and to give them a name. Jesus said, “I know my sheep and my sheep know me.” There’s Fluffy, our best wool producer; there goes Tubby, who never stops eating; and see the one over there, the one with three legs and half an ear missing? That’s Lucky. The shepherd knew each sheep by name.
So, do you begin to understand what it means to say the Lord is your shepherd? The Lord, God Almighty, the creator of the universe, the author of life and all things good, loves you like a shepherd loves his sheep. We belong to God; we may act like something else is true, but the fundamental fact is we belong to God. We belong to God simply because God deliberately chose to create us and love us. God gave us life, and then gave us new life through Christ. The Lord is our shepherd.
What this implies is that if the Lord is my shepherd, no one or nothing else is. Keller writes that he knew of several sheep owners in his district who were not good shepherds. Their sheep were underfed and poorly cared for. Under one shepherd’s care the sheep would struggle, starve, and suffer hardship. In another’s care they would flourish and thrive happily. When we say the Lord is our shepherd, we’re making a statement about who is caring for us, and therefore to whom we look for guidance and care. We don’t look to anything or anyone in this world; we look to God. Psalm 100 says, “Know that the LORD is God. It is He who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”
To some of us that may feel too restrictive, too confining. “I don’t belong to anybody! Nobody tells me what to do or where to go or how to act.” Sometimes our view of God is too small or too human or too narrow, and so we are reluctant to give God authority, control, or outright ownership of our lives. But that’s where the meaning of the second line comes into play.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” This verse can be read a couple of different ways. It can be taken to mean that all my needs are met. There’s nothing I want because I have it all. That’s called the prosperity gospel view. I’m rich because God blessed me, which brings up all kinds theological traffic jams about God’s blessings and poverty and so forth. That’s why I don’t believe David was referring to material or physical needs when he said, “I shall not want.”
Another way to interpret this verse is that, because the Lord is my shepherd, I’m so content that I don’t crave or desire any more than I have. My happiness is not dependent upon the circumstances of life; it is determined simply by the fact that I belong to God, and no matter what happens, that’s not going to change. I can have more, I can have less, but I will always be in the Shepherd’s care.
Have you ever said, “If I could just win the lottery, all my problems will be solved”? If we had a couple million sitting around, we wouldn’t want for anything, right? But you can read story after story about people like William Post, who said winning $16.2 million in the lottery only brought him debt, despair, and heartache, including a brother who hired a hitman to kill Post and his sixth wife. Maybe by the time you get to your sixth wife that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.
And some of the happiest people I know are those who have the fewest financial resources, but have profound faith in the Good Shepherd. Part of being able to say, “I shall not want” is recognizing the true source of our happiness is found, not from anything we get here on earth, but from the care and love provided by our Shepherd.
In his book, Keller talks about a specific sheep that gave him all kinds of trouble. This ewe was given the same treatment as all the others, including daily care and a lush, green meadow from which to feed. But this sheep was constantly looking for holes in the fence line in order to escape and find other pastures. Instead of realizing how good she had it, the ewe would end up on the other side of the fence, trying to feed in much sparser meadows than the one from which she had just escaped.
Keller called the ewe a fence-crawler. A fence-crawler is someone who is always looking for just a little bit more. For the fence-crawler, the grass is always greener anywhere but where they are, no matter how good they have it. There’s always a more lush meadow, a bigger house, a nicer car, a sixth wife.
Psalm 37 says, “Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.” As we enter into the season of Lent, I encourage each of us to look at our lives and see all that we have, instead of seeing all we wish we had. For every one thing we wish we had – material possessions, better health, a more loving family – there are ten things with which God has blessed us. Our Shepherd knows our name, loves us like children, takes care of us, and promises us eternal life in God’s presence. What else do we need?
02.04.08
This Week’s Sermon – Fruits in the Garden
Hello, everyone! This week’s sermon is based on the story of Adam and Eve, and leads us into the beginning of Lent and my sermon series on the 23rd Psalm. Have a great week!
SCRIPTURE – Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7
The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.”
Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’ ” “You will not surely die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.
SERMON
Fruits in the Garden
Gen. 2:15-17, 3:1-7
February 3, 2008
One of my favorite Far Side cartoons shows this peaceful landscape setting with a shady tree and a grazing deer. And in the middle of this serene meadow is a giant jar with the label “Humans” on it. The jar is broken open, and in the background, there are a few naked people running around. And you see a voice from the cloud above saying, “Uh-oh.”
Yes, uh-oh. You have to wonder if God was thinking that after the events of today’s passage. God creates this wonderful idyllic paradise full of butterflies and hummingbirds and cute little bunnies, and then humans come along and build casinos and film reality TV shows and mess the whole place up.
Before we try to figure out what in the world is going on here, it might help us first to determine what isn’t happening. This story has served as the foundation for a lot of our understanding of our human condition and our relationship with God. It’s often ominously called “The Fall,” and it gave birth to the term “Original Sin,” the idea that because of what Adam and Eve did, we are all born as sinners in need of repentance.
I don’t quite buy that. First of all, the terms “the fall” and “original sin” are nowhere to be found in scripture. Second, it’s hard for me to look at a newborn baby or my three-year-old daughter and think, “There’s a sinner.” Now, I believe we all have within us the propensity to sin. And I know all of us, at some point in our lives, will commit a sin. But to doom us from the outset because of what Adam and Eve did in the garden feels too fatalistic. It’s a bit of the “devil made me do it” mentality. Don’t blame me for my sin, blame Adam and Eve. They started it! I believe we do all have the propensity to sin within us, be we also have the propensity to do good, and leaning too heavily on the concept of Original Sin distorts that balance for me.
Another important point I want to make is one that I make often in relation to the Bible, especially the creation story in Genesis. Well-intentioned people on all sides of the religious spectrum have tried to use this story to prove their religious theories and hypotheses. Others question the Bible’s reliability and criticize it by asking questions like, “Where are the dinosaurs?” and “Did Adam have a belly button?”
I believe both sides are asking the Bible to do something it wasn’t created to do. The Bible wasn’t written as a scientific textbook. It wasn’t written as a theological treatise. It was written as a story, a story about God and God’s creation and the development of that relationship. To ask the Bible to explain more than that distorts its true purpose.
So if the Bible was written to tell us about God, what does this story have to say to us? God creates man and puts him in the garden to work it and take care of it. That’s a bit distressing to those of us without green thumbs, but I trust that, unlike me, Adam could tell the difference between a daisy and a dandelion and knew what he was doing.
Or maybe he didn’t, because right after that God creates Eve as Adam’s helper. The original Hebrew words literally translates as “someone to tell Adam what gets mowed over and what gets left alone.” And Genesis tells us that the man and his wife were naked, and they felt no shame.
Enter the serpent. What do we know about this character? First of all, God made it. Second, the serpent was more crafty or cunning than any of the other creatures. Notice that he never calls God a liar or directly contradicts what God said. Everything the serpent said was kind of true. Instead of forcing Adam and Eve to sin, he does what most temptation does: he plants a seed, and lets it grow within the person.
That’s what we know. Now notice what it doesn’t say. It doesn’t say the serpent was evil, and it doesn’t say the serpent was Satan. As early as the New Testament, those connections will begin to get made, but if we take the text at face value, we can’t leap to that conclusion. Primarily, the serpent is a plot device used to move the story along. Someone or something had to come to Eve. It just as easily could have been a hippopotamus or a tse-tse fly. In ancient history, the serpent was viewed as possessing mystical wisdom, which could help explain why the author chose it. Here. But other than what the text tells us, we can only speculate.
The serpent asks for clarification of God’s statement to Adam and Eve. He starts off with, “Did God really say…?” That is a loaded question. When I hear the voice in my heard start a question that way, I know I’m in trouble. “Did your mom really say no cookies before dinner? Maybe. But she didn’t say anything about eating a part of a cookie. Or a hunk of cookie dough. Or a scoop of cookie dough ice cream. And ice cream has milk in it, and milk is good for you! You’ll be doing your mom a favor!” And so goes the temptation, planting seeds in us that grow into doubts and rationalizations and acts of disobedience.
Adam and Eve disobey, but you can understand their motivations. If God loved them, why the prohibition? God created this beautiful setting for them and gave them dominion and use over the entire garden expect for one specific tree, which is called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Why God would create this tree and then tell Adam and Eve to stay away from it?
One thought is that the tree was bad, but I don’t believe God would create something bad. In fact, everything God creates during this story is called “good.” Another thought is that God put it there to test Adam and Eve, but that conclusion seems too simplistic. There’s a third explanation that makes the most sense to me.
Driving is a good thing. I like driving. I’m glad to be able to get places in my car. But driving is not good for a five-year-old. Flying is an amazing luxury. What a privilege to be able to fly a plane hundreds of miles in a short span of time. But when I go to the airport, they won’t let me fly the plane. Only the trained pilots can do that.
Here’s a more serious example: in our first scripture today, Satan tempts Jesus by offering him the ability to rule over all the kingdoms of the world, if Jesus will only bow down and worship him. Now, Jesus ruling over all the kingdoms of the world isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and will eventually happen, but not at this time and not this way.
I believe God intended for Adam and Eve to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil when they were ready for it. I believe God wanted Adam and Eve to grow and mature and learn about life in order to be able to handle the knowledge the tree offered. But Adam and Eve couldn’t wait, didn’t listen, and gave in to temptation.
God didn’t say they could never eat from the tree; only that they couldn’t at this time. I believe there would be a time, as Adam and Eve matured, that they would be ready for the knowledge the tree would provide, and then God would give them that privilege. But instead of waiting for God’s time, Adam and Eve took matters into their own hands and tried to force God’s hand.
Notice the result of their transgression: they realize their nakedness and are so ashamed of it they make some clothes to cover themselves. Yes, it’s the world’s first cover-up, and it sets the stage for humanity’s continual transgressions against God, and then our feeble attempts to cover them up.
In my mind, that is the greatest sin here. It’s not the eating of the fruit. It’s not the disobedience. It’s the failure of Adam and Eve to accept responsibility for what they had done. Instead of owning up, the cover up. They don’t want to have to face the consequences for what they have done.
A city employee in Lodi, Calif., sued the city for damages after a dump truck backed into his parked car. The man says that because the city’s vehicle damaged his private vehicle, the city owes him $3600. The catch? The man who owned the car was driving the dump truck. He backed into his own car, and now wants the city to pay him.
Do you wonder what future generations are going to thing about us when their archaeologists find McDonald’s coffee cups with the warning, “Caution: contents may be hot”? What kind of idiots were these people? But it was a person who sued McDonald’s when she spilled coffee on herself that led to the necessity for the warning.
If they were alive today, they would be filing lawsuits against the serpent. Why? Because then they could blame somebody else for something they did wrong. I believe failure to take responsibility for our actions is one of the worst sins we can commit, because it not only denies the truth about what we have done, it usually shifts the blame to someone else. Adam and Eve made me do it!
We are about to enter the season of Lent, which is a time of self-reflection and introspection, and time to acknowledge our human condition and the things we do and say that separate from God. By doing this, we prepare ourselves to truly appreciate and receive the joy of Easter, the gift of forgiveness and new life offered by Christ. Lent will also end in a garden, not Eden, but Gethsemane, where Jesus will say, “God, not my will, but your will be done.” And then he’ll be crucified on a tree. May Lent be a time of taking responsibility for all we’ve done and left undone, and then accepting that Jesus Christ died so that we might know God’s forgiveness.
02.03.08
There Will Be Awards
I miss reviewing movies. There was a period in my life when I was seeing 2-3 movies a week. I saw the good. I saw the bad. I saw “Weekend at Bernie’s II.”
But life has a way of putting the kibosh on movie-viewing (at least movies that I really want to see). It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Enchanted and Aquamarine, but there simply wasn’t enough action, fistacuffs, or explosions to suit my taste.
Now, when I see movies, I have to be more selective, because my trips to the megaplex are fewer and further between. I’ve missed seeing a lot of shows in the theater and have to catch them on DVD, which is like listening to a football game on the radio. Not quite the same.
One movie I did make a point to see in the theaters was “There Will Be Blood.” I’ve always been a huge Daniel Day-Lewis fan (did you know he was considered for the role of Jesus in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ?) ever since My Left Foot and still consider his performance as Bill “The Butcher” Cutting in Gangs of New York as one of the best I’ve ever seen. Adrien Brody was amazing in The Pianist, but Day-Lewis should have won. What a powerhouse performance.
Speaking of which, “There Will Be Blood” may be the best movie I’ve ever seen. Now, let me clarify what that means. It doesn’t movie I loved the movie. In fact, I’m not even sure I liked it. “Blood” is not the kind of movie that you like, at least not in the same way you like “Die Hard Like a Fruitcake” or “Rocky XIX: The Colostomy.” Some movies you like, some movies you love; “Blood” is a movie you simply experience.
The movie is so grand in scope and reach that the only word that can describe it is epic. The cinematography is epic. The score is epic. The story is epic. And the performance of Day-Lewis as oil entrepreneur Daniel Plainview is the epic-est (new word for ya!).
Day-Lewis has a way of morphing into a character so completely that you forget you’re watching an actor. He so becomes the grizzled, hard-hearted Plainview that you feel like you are watching a documentary instead of a work of fiction. his performance is haunting and I still find myself thinking about it (even more so when I see the latest commercial for the film with Plainview screaming “I abandoned my son” with severe vein-popping intensity). It may be the only movie I didn’t like that I want to see again.
If either the movie or Day-Lewis don’t win, next year’s Oscar statuettes should be given with grocery bags over their heads. No movie comes close to matching the storytelling and vision of “There Will Be Blood” (“Juno”? C’mon!), and no performance, this year or any year, measures up to Day-Lewis.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
