empathy

Blood and Fire

/ JJS / 2 Comments
elijah_baal

The Sacrifice of Elijah before the Priest of Baal, Domenico Fetti, c. 1622

Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 51; 148, 1 Kings 18:20-40, Philippians 3:1-16, Matthew 3:1-12

Today’s readings from 1 Kings and Matthew give us two very different perspectives on sacrifice.

When after three years of exile, drought, and famine the prophet Elijah returned to confront the corrupt king Ahab, he had to get past the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal with whom Ahab and his wife Jezebel had aligned themselves. Elijah challenged them to a contest: we’ll each sacrifice a bull, and whoever’s god manages to set it on fire is the winner. To attract their God’s attention and favor, the prophets of Baal marched around their bull until they were limping.  “They cut themselves with swords and lances until the blood gushed out over them.” If anything their bull only grew cooler as evening approached. Elijah was so confident in his God that he soaked the wood four times before offering his prayer. The fire of the Lord consumed the bull, the wood, and the stone and boiled off the water.

In the gospels, John the Baptist is closely associated with Elijah. Like Elijah he wore rough clothing of camel’s hair and a simple leather belt. John survived on a diet of locusts and honey. He was probably a little scary, living on the edge of his community and inviting the wrath of both the Jewish and Roman authorities by declaring the coming of the messiah. John, who would ultimately be imprisoned and executed, suffered for his faith.

Other than the fact that the prophets of Baal followed the wrong god, what differentiated their sacrifices of self-mutilation from John’s self-deprivation?

The prophets of Baal injured themselves in order to entice their god to do their bidding. John suffered because he wanted to do God’s bidding. With all our talk of Christ’s blood and the cross, we Christians sometimes seem to blur those lines. Our God is not one who demands sacrifice and suffering for the pleasure or cruelty of it. Needless suffering is something Christ asks us to remedy – not to perpetuate. Yet there are times we will suffer for staying true to our faith. The prophets of Baal limped and yelled and bled because they believed in a God who needed to be persuaded to want good things for them. We stay true to our God and find redemption in hardship because God’s love is a fire already burning within us.

Comfort: God doesn’t desire your suffering, but when you must God is with you. 

Challenge: Watch Paul Bloom’s video Against Empathy.

Prayer: Loving God, I turn my suffering over to you that you may transform it into redemption. Amen. 

Discussion: Do you think of your own suffering the same way you think of other people’s? Are you more likely to ask “Why me?” or “Why not me?”

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No Exceptions

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Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 42; 146, 1 Kings 16:23-34, Philippians 1:12-30, Mark 16:1-8 (9-20)

American humorist Sam Levenson once said, “You must learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make them all yourself.” Ahab, king of Israel, could have benefited from this advice. Like his predecessors Omri, Jeroboam, and Solomon, he allowed himself to be seduced by the lure of foreign gods. He built altars and other places of worship to the god Baal in part to please his wife Jezebel. We can blame Jezebel for corrupting him, but Ahab had plenty of bad examples to learn from. The author of 1 Kings even says Ahab did these things “as if it had been a light thing for him to walk in the sins of Jeroboam.”

Ahab doubtlessly though he was different. We like to think we – both in the sense of our individual selves and in the sense of whatever tribe we identify with – are somehow exceptional.  We explain away our own shortcomings and failings by blaming our circumstances (or even painting them as virtues), and vilify other people for the exact same flaws by blaming their character. While this tendency may just seem like relatively harmless hypocrisy, it can become dangerous if we really start to believe we are not capable of doing terrible things.

American exceptionalism is no exception. When we look at world history and current global events full of ethnic strife, civil unrest, economic injustice, and other ills but insist “that could never happen here,” who are we trying to convince? Not long ago – as recently as the early twentieth century – a eugenics movement based on ethnicity and perceived intelligence was a real issue in the United States. As a result, forced sterilization was still legal in some states into the last decade, but most people have forgotten all about what was once a hot topic of conversation everywhere from church luncheons to bridge clubs. Convincing ourselves racism, authoritarianism, and theocracy are beasts which could never breach our shores only tempts us to explain away the footprints they’ve already left on the beach. Every human being is as fallen as every other one, and under the right circumstances we are capable of justifying terrible things.

Our broken nature can be a difficult thing to face, not simply because it’s unpleasant, but also because some religious leaders have inflicted psychological damage by wielding it clumsily and without mercy. Yet only by dying to ourselves through an admission of that brokenness can we overcome it by finding new life in Christ. Admitting we – in both the individual and corporate senses – are as subject to human nature as anyone else keeps us honest and gives us empathy. Following the risen Christ teaches us the limits of human nature are no match for the redemptive power of the resurrection.

Comfort: Christ’s love and lessons help us rise above our baser instincts. 

Challenge: Read It Can’t Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis.

Prayer: God, I offer up my broken self, trusting you to make it whole. Amen. 

Discussion: Is it possible to love your tribe and still see its flaws?

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You are the man!

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davidandnathan

David and Nathan, Jacob Backer

Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 84; 148, 2 Samuel 12:1-14, Acts 19:21-41, Mark 9:14-29

After David arranged for the death of his loyal soldier Uriah to steal Uriah’s wife, the prophet Nathan dropped by for a visit and told the story of a rich many with many flocks and herds, and a poor man with a single, dearly treasured ewe. The rich man does not want to slaughter any of his own sheep to feed an unexpected guest, so he takes the poor man’s ewe. An infuriated David, interpreting this story literally, declares, “As the LORD lives, the man who has done this deserves to die!”

Nathan responds, “You are the man!”

Now Nathan’s story isn’t long, but we aren’t far in before wondering at what point David is going to realize it’s a parable about himself. Yet somehow he needs to be bludgeoned with the obvious.

This event illustrates the folk wisdom that traits we dislike in other people are actually traits we dislike about ourselves. David doesn’t seem conscious of this, but wouldn’t a man after God’s heart have to know on some level how badly he’d messed up? Powerful stories hold a mirror up to our own experiences, so our reactions to them teach us a lot about ourselves.

In modern parlance “You are the man!” often has a more positive connotation. We say it when someone helps us out or impresses us. Is it possible that, just as we may subconsciously see our weaknesses in others and in stories, we may also unwittingly recognize some of our better qualities? Maybe the kick-butt sci-fi heroine fans the tiny spark of holy rebel inside us. Or perhaps we admire our friend who spends her Saturdays at the food bank because it reminds us of the generosity we are capable of.

Only a minuscule fraction of what happens in the world is actually about us, but it all has something to teach us. When we learn to recognize our commonalities, we are less likely to do things like … say … murder a friend to bed his wife. Or ignore those in need.

If someone tells you, “You are the man!” … which will it mean?

Additional Reading:
For thoughts on today’s reading from Acts, see Threats Both Foreign and Domestic.

Comfort: None of us are perfect; God loves and uses us anyway.

Challenge: Meditate on what your favorite books or movies might teach you about yourself.

Prayer: Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me. (Psalm 25:4-5)

Discussion: If the phrase was “You are the woman!” would you find that more, less, or equally relatable? Why?

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Forgive and Remember

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Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 122; 149, 1 Samuel 14:16-30, Acts 9:10-19a, Luke 23:32-43

We don’t think we’re like other people. It’s cliché for someone in rehab to claim “I’m not an addict like the rest of them.” When someone else gets fired, they were lazy or inept; when we get fired the boss is a jerk. When a group we don’t belong to reacts to oppression, they are snowflakes; when we feel oppressed (despite possibly being in the majority) we’re standing up for what’s right. Even a thief hanging on a cross can find a reason to mock the savior hanging next to him.

Yet that same savior asked God to forgive his executioners. What’s the difference (besides not being Jesus)? Empathy.

Empathy is an ability to relate to the emotions and circumstances of others. It’s inseparable from forgiveness. To forgive we must understand what it means to be forgiven. To feel forgiven, we must first accept responsibility for the things we’ve done which need forgiving (not as popular a choice as maybe it should be) and then trust Christ to do what he said. If on some level we can’t accept Christ’s forgiveness (and it takes a real ego to think we’re the one person he can’t forgive), can what we call and offer as forgiveness be the real deal?

As long as we insist we would have been better, stronger, kinder, etc. having experienced the exact same life as someone else, true forgiveness eludes us. We don’t have to excuse misbehavior or abandon accountability, but neither of those is required to forgive. Actually, if we did, what exactly would we be forgiving?

When the Lord asked Ananias to attend to Saul, Ananias answered: “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem.” Yet in the end he trusted the Lord to make a great evangelist of this villain. Is there any doubt Ananias knew the forgiveness of Christ?

Psalm 51 tells us God will not despise a broken spirit and a contrite heart. When we are willing to admit to our brokenness and receive forgiveness, our ability to forgive blossoms.

Comfort: God will forgive you.

Challenge: It’s up to you to accept that forgiveness.

Prayer: Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.. (Psalm 51:10)

Discussion: What are some examples of the difference between empathy and sympathy? Why is it important to know the difference?

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Speaking of Faith

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sentencediagram

Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 96; 148, Deuteronomy 31:30-32:14, Romans 14:13-23, Luke 8:40-56

In linguistics “code switching” refers to the practice of moving among different languages in the same conversation. In a sociological sense, it is also a popular term – particularly among African Americans – for trading one’s comfortable, informal manner of speech for a more formal, homogenized one to facilitate communication and acceptance within the dominant group. Some people view code switching as hypocritical, but most of us unconsciously engage in some form of it. For example, children speak differently to their parents than their peers, employers speak differently to their bosses than their co-workers, and those of us who curse like sailors probably curb that @#$% when addressing our pastors.

According to Paul, code switching (while not his term) could even be a sign of respect. He advised Christians who had no issues with eating meat or drinking wine not to become a stumbling block to their brothers and sisters who considered such things sinful. It wasn’t that Paul found these things sinful, rather that he believed “those who have doubts are condemned if they eat, because they do not act from faith; for whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.” He asked people to adjust their faith language accordingly.

A person’s vernacular does not define their native intelligence or ability any more than our perception of their piety defines their faith. But here’s the big difference: in the case of code switching for corporate America, the less privileged person is expected to change; Paul was asking the group with more freedom to accommodate the less free. In the world, the first impose on the last. In the Kingdom, the first serve the last.

A faith language has its own grammar. As with any grammar, it is a tool to be used, not a weapon to be wielded. We want to be fluent in it for our own benefit, but we should refrain from correcting (or worse demeaning) other people for failing to meet its exact standards. Let us listen to understand more than to correct, to invite more than to demand. Our God is not about technicalities, but about grace.

Comfort: Even when your “faith grammar” isn’t perfect, God understands.

Challenge: Listen to familiar hymns sung in a language you do not now. Do they say anything new to you?

Prayer: Loving God, may I seek more to understand than to be understood. Amen.

Discussion: People can have complicated relationships with grammar, anything from self-declared grammar police to being intimidated by it entirely. What’s yours?

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Do Unto Others

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Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 93; 150, Isaiah 32:1-8, 2 Thessalonians 2:13-17, Matthew 7:7-14

In everything do to others as you would have them do to you;
for this is the law and the prophets.
– Matthew 7:12

These words from Jesus are often called “The Golden Rule.” The concept transcends the Judeo-Christian tradition; many (most?) cultures have some variation. One might think such a universal idea must be common sense, but it really isn’t. Have you ever heard of “NIMBY?” It stands for “Not In My Back Yard.” For example, we want the convenience of cheap petroleum products like plastic and gasoline, but nobody wants the toxic waste dumped in their neighborhood. People of means can take legal action to prevent that, but aren’t generally bothered about where it does end up.

It takes moral and spiritual maturity to value the needs of others as importantly as our own needs – and it’s a lifelong process. In his book The Speed of Trust, Stephen Covey writes: “We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behaviour.” At least until we exercise our ability to empathize. When we realize our intentions are invisible to people who suffer from our actions, and our suffering at the hands of others may not be their intent, we achieve a more balanced perspective. If, for example, we are made aware a remark is racist or sexist, we can defend it by explaining our intentions were not so – which tells the other person our intention matters more than their reality – or we can be accountable and do better in the future. If the situation was reversed, which would you prefer? Do that one.

Perhaps the trickiest part of observing the Golden Rule is admitting we don’t always know how we want to be treated. It’s possible your response to the racist/sexist remark question was something like, “I’d brush it off; no big deal.” If so (assuming you are white and/or male), ask yourself if you’d accept being treated as women and people of color have historically been treated.

Self-awareness and empathy are inseparable. Take time to learn what other people need, and you’ll learn more about what you do.

Comfort: Being considerate of others makes you stronger.

Challenge: It’s easy to empathize with people who are similar to us. Ask friends who differ from you in gender, race, religion, age, sexual orientation, ability, or other ways what they wished you knew.

Prayer:  Forgive our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Amen.

Discussion: When do you have trouble empathizing?

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Trial by Fire

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easter-fire-2-1374943

Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 92; 149, Daniel 3:19-30, 1 John 3:11-18, Luke 4:1-13

“Nebuchadnezzar was so filled with rage […] that his face was distorted.”
– Daniel 3:19

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
– Bruce Banner, aka The Incredible Hulk

Anger can transform us until we are almost unrecognizable. When Daniel’s friends defied King Nebuchadnezzar’s command to worship a statue, his rage affected his physical appearance. It can also suddenly and drastically alter our personalities and turn simple disagreements into longstanding feuds and inconsiderate highway maneuvers into deadly confrontations.

Anger often masks fear or sadness. Though Nebuchadnezzar had no obvious reason to be afraid, like every king he realized authority ultimately rests on the people’s willingness to accept it. Open acts of defiance threaten power. In our own lives anger can be a defense against the fear of losing a relationship, security (physical or otherwise), status within our group, or a sense of control. Where fear looks forward, sadness looks backward. When the grief of a loss which has already occurred threatens to overwhelm us, or when we feel forced to suppress it, it can come out as anger, frequently misdirected and over a long period of time.

Nebuchadnezzar threw Daniel’s friends into a furnace hot enough to kill the men who forced them inside, but his anger dissipated into astonishment when they, with the help of an angel, survived and emerged unharmed. Overcome with fear of the Lord, he decreed that none should blaspheme against God, and promoted the friends.

While we won’t face an actual furnace, we may have to endure a metaphorical trial by fire to love someone through their anger. We don’t have to tolerate outright abuse, but understanding where anger comes from can help us handle it differently. For example, if a co-worker’s anger catches us off guard, our reflex is probably to respond in kind, but it’s more productive to let them see Christ at work in us. We may never know what’s going on inside the person, because everyone has pain we don’t get to see. Responding to anger with love and faith may be the witness that helps someone see the promise beyond their pain.

Comfort: It’s permissible to express your fear and grief.

Challenge: Eventually you have to express your fear and grief.

Prayer: God of Love, teach me healthy ways to deal with my emotions. Amen.

Discussion: What makes you angry? Can you relate that to a fear or a sadness?

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See And Be Seen

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Today’s readings (click below to open in new tab/window):
Psalms 97; 147:12-20, Hosea 9:1-9, Acts 24:1-23, Luke 7:36-50

A Pharisee named Simon invited Jesus to dine with him in his home. When Jesus arrived, a woman known throughout the city as a sinner followed him inside. She bathed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. Then she kissed his feet and anointed them with ointment from an alabaster jar. Simon looked on in contempt because he believed a real prophet would have seen the woman for what she was. Jesus told Simon a story about a creditor who forgave the debts of two people, one of whom owed ten times as much as the other, and asked which of them would love the creditor more. Simon said the one whose debt was greater.

Jesus then turned toward the woman and explained to Simon why she had showered him in kindnesses, while Simon had offered nothing: “Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”

Isn’t it interesting that while Jesus spoke to Simon, he looked at the woman? And that Simon, who thought he knew everything he needed to know about her, didn’t really see her at all? And that though Simon said nothing, Jesus saw his heart clearly?

If we are to be Christians – little Christs – we need to see people as Christ sees them. More importantly, we need to help people believe Christ sees, loves, and forgives them. That means meeting people where they are, but it also means letting them meet us where we are – letting sinners from across town into our orderly houses of worship to shed unseemly tears at the foot of the cross and generally make the “respectable” Christians uncomfortable. When they follow Jesus through the door, he sees exactly who they are and loves them anyway. If we don’t do the same, he sees hearts that love him only a tenth as much as they should, and they see hypocrisy instead of hope.

Don’t worry about looking like a good Christian. Try to look like Christ. That’s who people need to see.

Comfort: Christ sees you and loves you..

Challenge: Remember that you may be the face of Christ to someone today.

Prayer: Loving God, teach me to see with the eyes of Christ, and love with the heart of Christ. Amen.

Discussion: When have you felt so out of place that you just wanted to leave?

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