Personally, I look forward to falling into the hands of God.
Let us fall into the hands of the Lord, but not into the hands of mortals; for equal to his majesty is his mercy, and equal to his name are his works. (Sirach 2.18 – NRSV)
In all the reading I’ve been doing in preparation for my Hebrew Bible class, I’ve come across several verses that have captured my imagination. The one above made me pause, and the more I reflected on what it describes, I couldn’t help but compare it to the admonition in the letter to the Hebrews, where the perspective of falling into the hands of God is described as a frightful experience. (Heb. 10.31)
"The vitriol that has fueled U.S. culture wars for so long is now being exported, and some of our most ardent culture warriors are finding a far more receptive audience abroad.
In nations such as Uganda, Russia, Nigeria, and Belize, an insidious homophobia engineered in America is taking root. I have seen this hate being spread with my own eyes."
What does this have to do with the verse in Sirach and Hebrews? A lot. It’s a matter of perspective and perhaps experience—the experience of G_d. I suppose our interpretive principle about the nature and character of God can fall anywhere along the spectrum between a deity consumed with rage and one consumed with compassion. If the idea of falling into this deity’s hand is frightful, then you will be motivated to scream out the warning as loudly as possible, like the watchman in the tower who sees danger on the horizon. If, on the other hand, one’s concept of falling into the hands of a compassionate and merciful deity, then what should the response look like? If those whose G_d is angry are motivated to frighten people into compliance, what do those whose God in love do impact their world?
Looking at another event from last week, the death of the homophobic Southern Baptist pastor from Kansas, Fred Phelps, it has been interesting to read the range of opinions his death has generated. From those who despised the man and all he stood for and are glad that he is gone to those who also hated everything about him but are willing to recognize that his hatred and anger brought a different God into focus, a God who is love. That logic helps us understand something by first understanding what it is not.
In a somewhat related way, I stumbled upon a newsfeed on Facebook it pointed out that 34 years ago today, Archbishop Oscar Romero of Sans Salvador was assassinated as he lifted the chalice celebrating the Eucharist. Why? Because he had spoken out against poverty and social injustice. He once said, “There are many things that can only be seen by the eyes that cried.” Perspective, there it is again...and experience.
I think we tend to equate evil with horrible people who are in bed with the devil. But as I have listened and read the words of the American fundamentalists that Kaoma accuses in her OpEd, one is struck with their passion and zeal for G_d. Unfortunately, on that spectrum I described above, they seem to fall on the side of an angry G_d looking forward to the fiery death of all those who do evil.
And there lies the tension. Acting according to our perception of G_d can sometimes result in evil and unfortunate consequences. Could it be that if our perception of G_d is rooted in our experience of G_d, maybe we have entirely different gods? Even though we may all claim that there is only one G_d overall, we all describe God very differently based on the part of the elephant we get to feel, as the elephant and blind men metaphor illustrates. Hence, our reality is the only reality we may claim to know for sure. Can we trust another’s person’s experience of G_d if it does not align with ours? I hear myself say what sounds too simplistic...does it first meet the test of LOVE?
