So, now that we've set the stage for the narrative of God's story as a whole — not to mention the dominant theme of the Exodus story itself — we're ready to see how this “Tale of Two Kingdoms” plays out in time and space.
Up to this point, we've been painting a pretty rosy picture of who God is. We've said that God is for us. We've talked about how God loves, values, and accepts us. We've tried to show again and again that God isn't angry and isn't set against us. He is incredibly patient. In fact, it's at this point in the story that I like to rock some theological boats for our students. Think back over the story of Genesis. When have we seen God's anger and wrath? I can think of two stories in Genesis. The first is the flood, which we tried to wrestle with earlier. I really don't believe the flood story is a story about God's wrath; I feel like it's a juxtaposition to be held against the Epic of Gilgamesh. This changes God's “wrath” into a subversive, artistic agenda of love, redemption, and partnership. The other story would be Sodom and Gomorrah.
So while we're at it, we should probably mention the Sodom and Gomorrah story. What's interesting to see is what it is that rouses God's anger. Contrary to what many Christians have been led to associate with the S&G story, the sexual immorality of the people of Sodom is, in fact, not what raises God's ire. Instead, when we read the Text, we find that God has showed up on the scene because “outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah” has reached His ears and He's come to see if the cause of the cry is as bad as it seems (see Genesis 18:20–21).
God shows up not to punish sin. God shows up to rescue the oppressed.
God has heard the cry.
One of the things that I just don't buy in the typical evangelical theological conversation is that you have to hold a balance between God's love and justice. Nowhere does the Bible teach this and no matter where one falls on the issue, their argument will rely on which Bible passages and proof texts they choose to highlight. One of the most striking holes in this theology is that the term “justice” is not a reference to a biblical concept but a western one. Biblical, Eastern justice (even if it's used as a legal term) is not retributive — it's distributive. Justice is a household term, referring to the fact that there is enough for everyone (to understand this patriarchal culture in context, I highly recommend Sandra Richter's The Epic of Eden). Biblical justice is about restoring things to their proper place, not giving somebody what they deserve.
But maybe more importantly, I don't buy this line of thinking because I don't find it in God's narrative. Nowhere does the story of Genesis talk about the depraved state of man and the ramifications of his legal standing before God. Most of our theology has been crafted by an inaccurate reading of Pauline literature outside of context and then projected on the rest of the Bible (in the words of Brian McLaren, evangelicals have made Jesus their Savior, but Paul their Lord; more on this much later). Genesis has not shown us an angry God.
Think about it. God has had plenty of opportunity to pour out wrath, but instead He has patiently and slowly partnered with mankind to teach him profound lessons. With the exception of the two aforementioned stories, we have not ran into a single implication of a hopeless humanity or an angry deity. As the Bible introduces us to God, it (or more appropriately, HE) has not found it necessary to display this “balance” that evangelicals are so certain exists.
But I have been introduced to a God who keeps insisting that I have value and invites me to trust His declaration that creation is good. I have been introduced to a God that is patient and willing to meet me where I'm at, as I learn who He is, as I walk down the path. I have found a God in the story that is bigger than my wildest imagination, but gentler than I could ever hope for. He is deep and mysterious and profound and challenging, but a loving and compassionate Shepherd.
And I find a God that rises up at the cry of the oppressed, not the ugliness of sin. I find a God that shows up at Sodom — not to punish the gays, but to rescue those who are being abused. (This, by the way, is backed up by Ezekiel, who tells us exactly what Sodom's sin was — see Ezekiel 16:49; and for those who want to quote the book of Jude, they may want to think on the context of the quotation, which references two other stories of failed hospitality.) I believe that as I read the story of God, I'm shown a God that has endless patience with me as I struggle to lean into His better story. But when I become the “anti-story,” when I start working against His story and I start hurting other people, that's when God shows up to do something.
Because God always hears the cry. And He loves and values the person I'm hurting just as much as He loves me. And eventually (God is not impulsive), God is drawn to action.
God's has plenty of patience for a struggling Sodom. But when the struggle of Sodom starts increasing the injustice for the marginalized, God acts.
God has plenty of patience for a group of Hebrews who like their farmland and 401(k)s and homeland security and comfort. But when those idols come at the expense of the weak, God acts.
The reason I bring this up is because the next story we need to talk about is the story of the plagues and God's battle with Pharaoh. This is the first time in the story that I struggled to square it with what I had learned about God. If the above reading were true, then God should have endless patience with Pharaoh. And when Pharaoh won't stop throwing newborns in the Nile, doing away with the elderly, and crushing the weak, God will act.
And act He does, in a dramatic fashion. And it all works consistently for me, until all the Egyptian families lose their firstborn son.
And it all seems to be a bit much. It seems like God could have rescued the Hebrews without all the pyrotechnics and without the dramatic magical show. It seems like God has got something to prove; and I thought He was better than that. It seems like, for the first time in the story, I'm being confronted with a wrath worth fearing.
Could there be more to this story of plagues?
No comments:
Post a Comment