Posts Tagged 'Jerusalem'

For Oct. 13, 2013: Proper 23, Year C

The Reading            Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7

Much of the book of Jeremiah predicts the doom and disaster that do indeed come to pass in the form of the defeat of Jerusalem, the razing of the Temple, and the exile in the land of the enemy. Jeremiah goes on to lament the losses—but life goes on, and this Sunday’s verses give God’s advice as to how.

The Response            Psalm 66:1-11

“Come now and see the works of God, how wonderful he is in his doing toward all people.”

The Epistle            2 Timothy 2:8-15

Wise words to a young and uncertain church leader continue in this Sunday’s reading from the second book of Timothy. The point of belief, whether or not it includes suffering like a criminal, is not to be “wrangling over words”—that is, sowing or abetting contention—but to follow Christ Jesus who died and rose and is faithful.

The Gospel            Luke 17:11-19

“‘Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’”

 

Further thoughts

The readings for this Sunday speak of alienation—but not of exclusion.

The Israelites in Babylon are unwilling resident aliens, chafing under defeat and exile in a land of foreign customs and gods and unsure how to worship with the Temple destroyed, for in no other place can one perform the rituals of sacrifice and atonement that the Torah commands. The firebrand Jeremiah counsels not opposition but accommodation, and prayers for good for the city to which they have been taken. They, and we, are reassured that God can be worshiped and served no matter where we are or among whom.

The author of 2 Timothy writes from the alienation of jail. He carries forward the faith that he won’t stop proclaiming among strange peoples on the strength of verses 11 to 13—which probably come from an ancient hymn, as reflected in the formatting on The Lectionary Page—and he reminds us that the gospel is not chained. But his warning Christians against “wrangling with words” ring true over the centuries: how easily we forge chains of doctrine that alienate our fellow Christians and also alienate the rest of the world.

Galileans are looked down on in Jesus’ time, as in the story of Nathanael: Galilee lies beyond despised Samaria, whose people worship God but not as the Jews do. Reduced to existing in the no-man’s-land in between are the lepers. In appealing to Jesus for mercy, they commit a breach of the Law; an alienating response or no response at all would be expected. Jesus instead bids them visit the priests, who have power to ban and lift bans (but not to heal). I can’t help wondering what it sounded like, for off they go—stung or stunned or strengthened, one can’t say—and the miracle happens. And then the further miracle happens: the Samaritan leper, the twice-alien, is the one who stops and turns around, giving thanks to God, and throws himself at Jesus’ feet. For gratitude is the miracle of the heart recognizing a gift and a home.

For Oct. 6, 2013: Proper 22, Year C

The Reading            Lamentations 1:1-6

The book of Lamentations paints a vivid picture of the disaster foretold by Jeremiah: Jerusalem is conquered, the Temple is in ruins, and most of her people are in forced exile. Each detail reinforces the image of Jerusalem as an abandoned woman suffering grievously but justifiably: because she persistently broke the covenants, God has revoked God’s protection and promises.

The Response            Lamentations 3:19-26

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end.”

The Epistle            2 Timothy 1:1-14

Textual evidence suggests that the letters to Timothy were written in the apostle Paul’s name but some time after his death. The writer commends his addressee for carrying forward the faith of his grandmother and mother, at the same time exhorting him to hold fast to it and not to be ashamed either of the testimony to that faith or of suffering for it.

The Gospel            Luke 17:5-10

“‘Do you thank the slave for doing what he was commanded?’”

Further thoughts

This Sunday’s readings speak of loss, hope, and steadfastness.

The reading from Lamentations depicts Jerusalem friendless and deserted. Through the patriarchs and prophets God had promised Israel self-rule as a leader of nations, protection from her enemies, numberless sons and daughters who would never face exile, and a descendant of David always on the throne—if Jerusalem kept the covenants. She did not do her part. As a result she is now a client state at the whim of the Babylonian empire, her former allies have gone over to the other side, those few of her children who have not been marched away at gunpoint are in hiding, and the throne of David stands empty. Worse, the temple is desecrated and ruined, so there is no longer any place to perform the sacrifices and make the prayers that the Law commands.

Yet the response, also from Lamentations, sings of hope: all these calamities have come to pass—but pass, they will: what endures is God’s love, for God honors God’s covenant even when we do not.

The epistle was written in times as trying in their way. Most authorities place the time of writing toward the end of the first century AD: Jerusalem is in the control of the Romans, the temple is once again destroyed, and Christianity is still illegal. Timothy faces hardship, humiliation, and even death in the service of Christ Jesus. But Jesus has abolished death—not that any of us will stop dying physically or cease to have reason to grieve, but the Holy Spirit in us will guard us and keep us in the way of love.

The gospel counsels steadfastness. The disciples demand more faith, and are doubtless disappointed in Jesus’ response. First, he tells them that the abundance it takes to command a big tree to pull up roots and place itself where no tree belongs—a showy act, but far from practical—isn’t one of faith. Then he gives them a less spectacular but more durable vision: the slave who sees to the master’s needs first, not to garner glory but simply because that is how the everyday things that most need doing (and most give blessing) get done.

For May 19, 2013: Pentecost

The Reading            Genesis 11:1-9

The first reading today, from the book of Genesis, explains how human beings created by the one God of Israel have come to speak so many different languages: they imagined that they could work and scheme their way to heaven, but God had other plans.  As we will see later, however, the story does not end here.

The Response            Psalm 104:25-35, 37b

“O Lord, how manifold are your works! in wisdom you have made them all.”

The Epistle            Acts 2:1-21

The story of the first Pentecost in the book of Acts is even more familiar than the story of the tower of Babel. The Pentecost story also involves people and languages. During today’s reading, if all goes according to plan, we will hear Acts 2:4 read in Arabic, Hebrew, Japanese, Samoan, Choctaw, Russian, Croatian, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, Norwegian, Dutch, and Old English, and later we will hear the Lord’s Prayer in all of those languages. God’s grace through Jesus works not for division but for unity, and our differences cease to divide us.

The Gospel            John 14:8-17 (25-27)

“I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth.”

 

In lieu of further thoughts, I offer the language texts that we read today and some comments on the languages.

The language texts that follow are renderings of Acts 2:4—“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability”—in various languages; for most languages that are not written in a Roman alphabet I have found, devised, or begged transliterations. Within language families I have underlined cognates—related words—to show the commonalities within the differences.

1. The Semitic language family includes Arabic, Hebrew, and the ancient Phoenician language. Semitic word roots typically have three consonants; vowel patterns work like inflections to signal grammatical information, so in classical Arabic the aaa pattern gives a verb (kataba ‘he wrote’, malaka ‘he owned/seized/ ruled’, nazala ‘he dismounted’, lamasa ‘he touched’); the ā-i pattern, a doer of the action (kātib ‘writer’, mālik ‘owner’); the i-ā pattern, a result of the action (kitāb ‘book’, nizāl ‘lining up for battle where one dismounted’); ma‑Ø-a-/i- a place where something is done (maktab ‘office’, manzil ‘stopping place’, malmas ‘place touched’, mamlaka ‘kingdom’), and so on. The transliterations here differ somewhat, but ‘holy’ is q-d-s or q-d-sh and ‘spirit’ is r-w-ḥ orr-w-ch.

Arabic: (transliterated)

wametla aljamey‘ min alruwḥ alqudus wābetdawa yatakalamuwna biilsinah ākhrā kamā ā‘khṭāhumu alruwḥu ān yanṭiquwā

Hebrew: (transliterated: credit to the Rev. Andy Welch)

Vekullâm nimleû rûach haqadôsh veheiheilû ledabeir bilshônôt acheirôt kefî shenâtenâ lâhem hârûach ledabeir.

2. The linguistic classification of Japanese is somewhat subject to dispute; the Japonic language family is not very closely related to other languages, though a relationship to Korean is possible and some scholars place these languages in the larger Altaic family. Even though Japanese is written partly in Chinese characters, it is not related to Chinese: unlike Mandarin, Japanese is not a tone language and it is highly inflected. Seirei is ‘Holy Spirit’.

Japanese: (transliterated)

Suruto, ichidō wa seirei ni mitasare, mitama ga kataraseru mama ni, iroiro no takoku no kotoba de kataridashi ta.

3. Choctaw is a Muskogean language originally spoken in and near modern Mississippi; the ancestors of most speakers were relocated to Oklahoma in the 1830s. Choctaw is closely related to Chickasaw and may be very distantly related to Kumeyaay or Diegueño, though the evidence is not strong. The letter v is used to write a vowel that is something like the first vowel in English about. Shilombish is ‘spirit’ and holitopa is ‘holy’.

Choctaw:

yvmohmi na, moyumvt Shilombish Holitopa yvt isht anukfokvt alota ma, anumpa inla puta anumpula he a, Shilombish vt apelahanchi na, okla anumpulit ishtia tok oke.

4. The Karen or Kayin languages, spoken in Burma (Myanmar), are members of the Tibeto-Burman grouping along with several languages of China (though neither Mandarin nor Cantonese). Karen languages, like many other languages of eastern Asia, are tone languages: not only are words distinguished by different vowels and consonants, they are also distinguished by six distinct tones or pitch contours. စီဆ is ‘holy’ and သး ‘spirit’.

Sgaw: (Myanmar Bible, original script)

ဒီးပှၤခဲ လၢာ်လၢထီၣ်ပှဲၤထီၣ်ဒီးသးစီဆှံ, ဒီးကတိၤတၢ်လၢအ ပျ့ၤအဂၤတဖၣ်, ဒ်သးန့ၣ်ဒုးကတိၤအီၤအသိးလီၤ.

5. The Austronesian language family probably originated in or near the island of Taiwan, off the coast of China. The Greek root nesos means ‘island’: most Austronesian languages are spoken on islands, from Madagascar off the east coast of Africa to the Easter Islands off the west coast of South America. The Polynesian languages of the South Pacific include Hawaiian, Fijian, and Samoan, all languages with relatively few consonants and simple consonant-vowel syllables. In Samoan, Agaga is ‘Spirit’ and Pa‘ia is ‘Holy Spirit’.

Samoan:

‘Ua fa‘atūtūmuina fo‘i i latou uma i le Agaga Pa‘ia, ma ‘ua amata loa ‘ona tautalatala i gagana ‘ese‘ese, e pei lava ‘ona faia e le Agaga ‘ua mafai ai e i latou ‘ona tautala atu.

6. The Indo-European language grouping has members spread across the globe. It includes the Slavic, Hellenic, Romance, and Germanic families and more.

a. The Slavic language family includes Russian and a number of languages spoken in Eastern Europe, such as Czech and Polish. Many but not all Slavic languages are written in Cyrillic characters; Croatian and Polish are among the languages that are written in roman script.  Dukh- and Duh- are ‘Spirit’; svyato- and sveto- are ‘holy’. Croatian and Serbian are essentially the same language.

Russian: (transliterated)

I ispolnilis’ vsye Dukha Svyatogo, i nachali govorit’ na inykh yazykakh, kak Dukh daval im provyeshchyevat’.

Croatian:

Svi se napuniše Duha Svetoga i počeše govoriti drugim jezicima, kako im već Duh davaše zboriti.

b. Greek is the sole surviving member of the Hellenic family. The Greek alphabet is descended from the Phoenician alphabet, though the Greeks converted a number of Phoenician consonant signs to symbols for vowels. Pneuma- is ‘breath’ or ‘spirit’; agiou, as in the Hagia Sophia, is ‘holy’.

Greek: (transliterated)

kai eplēsthēsan pantes pneumatos agiou kai ērxanto lalein eterais glōssais kathōs to pneuma edidou apophthengesthai autois

c. The founding member of the Romance language family is Latin, the language of the Romans. It is no longer in use as an everyday language, except in the Vatican, but its traces are strong in not only in the Romance languages but in English. Among its modern descendants are Italian, Spanish, and French. Latin –pl– as in repleti ‘filled up, replete’ often shows up in Italian as –pi-, as in ripieni ‘filled’ and in Spanish as –ll-, as in llenos ‘filled’ (so chiles relleños are quite literally filled-up or replete chilis). ‘Spirit’ is Spiritus/Espíritu/Esprit, and ‘holy’ is sanct-/santo/saint.

Latin:

et repleti sunt omnes Spiritu Sancto et coeperunt loqui aliis linguis prout Spiritus Sanctus dabat eloqui illis

Italian:

Cosí furono tutti ripieni di Spirito Santo e cominciarono a parlare in altre lingue, secondo che lo Spirito dava loro di esprimersi.

Spanish:

Todos fueron llenos del Espíritu Santo y comenzaron a hablar en diferentes lenguas, según el Espíritu les concedía expresarse.

French:

Aussitôt, ils furent tous remplis du Saint-Esprit et commencèrent à parler dans différentes langues, chacun s’exprimant comme le Saint-Esprit lui donnait de le faire.

d. The Germanic language family has three main subgroups: Northern Germanic (Norwegian, Danish, Swedish, and Icelandic, but not Finnish, which is closely related to Hungarian), East Germanic (all of the languages of which are extinct), and West Germanic (including German, Dutch and English). Heilig-, hellig, and halg– are cognates of Modern English ‘holy’. Geest and gast mean ‘spirit’, though Modern English ghost now means specifically ‘spirit of a dead person’. The Northern Germanic languages instead have ånd or ande, from a Proto-Germanic word meaning ‘breath or spirit’ which is cognate with an Old English word meaning ‘malice, envy, hatred’ (that is, bad spirits) and with Latin anima ‘breath or soul’.

Norwegian:

Da blev de alle fylt med den Hellige Ånd, og de begynte å tale med andre tunger, alt efter som Ånden gav dem å tale.

Dutch:

En zij werden allen vervuld met den Heiligen Geest, en begonnen te spreken met andere talen, zoals de Geest hun gaf uit te spreken.

Old English:

and hi wurdon ða ealle gefyllede mid þam Halgum Gaste, and ongunnon to sprecenne mid mislicum gereordum, be ðam þe se Halga Gast him tæhte.

For April 28, 2013: 5 Easter, Year C

The Reading            Acts 11:1-18

This week’s reading from the book of Acts skips past Peter’s precedent-shattering visit to the Roman centurion and his family in Joppa to show what happens on his return to Jerusalem: he is grilled by the believers there, who have been taught from birth that they must keep away from Gentiles. How do we know who belongs to God?

The Response            Psalm 148

“Kings of the earth and all peoples… old and young together… let them praise the Name of the Lord.”

The Epistle            Revelation 21:1-6

Revelation this week closes with a vision of a redeemed world in which all the pain and grief that came into the world with Adam and Eve are no more. Strikingly, the holy city Jerusalem is not found far off in heaven: it comes as all our tears are wiped away by God’s own hand, and it comes to Earth.

The Gospel            John 13:31-35

“‘By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’”

 

Further thoughts

In this weary world it is impossible to love without grieving, because it is impossible to love without loss. Because not even mothers (whatever their small children may believe) can be in more than one place at one time, we suffer separations large and small; lacking God’s-eye insight into each other, we endure misunderstanding and being misunderstood. We grieve when others don’t live up to our expectations for them or when we don’t or can’t live up to theirs; we give each other grief, in more senses than one; and of course we grieve both for those who die before we were ready for them to—which takes in practically everyone—and, as we begin to see it coming, for our own death.

On some level we all know this. It is part of what makes Jesus’ charge to love another so darned hard: Sooner or later—sooner and later—it has to hurt, and hurt deeply. The reading from Revelation paints for us a luminous picture of a world in which that pain is no more… but Lord knows we’re not there yet.

One suspects that the believers in Jerusalem all went through some of this grief on Peter’s return to Jerusalem. One imagines brash, openhearted Peter rushing back to share the exciting news about the astonishing new definition of “God’s people”, only to hit the brick wall of the Judeans’ opposition; one visualizes the Judeans, horrified by accounts of Peter’s apparent dereliction and determined to make things as right as they possibly could. This situation could easily have led straight to impasse—to the sort of schism that has recurred, regrettably, throughout the history of religions and philosophies. Instead, however, both sides contained their disappointment and grief long enough for Peter to explain well and for the Judeans to listen well. They loved each other not only that much, but that well.

And perhaps that is exactly where the new Jerusalem is: not there in heaven, but here, and here, and here, in the hearts that we care for and cherish and in the hearts we miss with tenderness, in the praises we raise together and the prayers that we pray with and for each other, and in the drying of each other’s tears.

For Jan. 6, 2013: Epiphany, Year C

The Reading            Isaiah 60:1-6, 9

Isaiah, writing about seven hundred years before the birth of Jesus, addresses Jerusalem: though she lies in ruins, the glory of the Lord has risen like daybreak! From all corners of the earth, from all of our own personal Babylons, all God’s children—all of us—shall stream home, whether or not Jerusalem was ever home, bringing wealth by the shipload and camel-caravan load in praise and thanks to the Lord.

The Response            Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14

The Epistle            Ephesians 3:1-12

There are riches, and then there are riches. Isaiah and the Psalmist told us of righteousness streaming out from Jerusalem and material wealth streaming in. It falls to Paul, writing from prison to the Gentile church in far-off Ephesus, to explain: all that abundance from all the world is merely the thank-you for the gift beyond price, extended to all peoples, of salvation through Christ Jesus.

The Gospel            Matthew 2:1-12

 

Further thoughts

The readings for Epiphany are practically incandescent: not now the hushed and heart-melting glow of Mary’s tiny son in the straw, but Isaiah’s blazing light as a beacon for all nations, the psalmist’s righteousness and deliverance in the very hills and mountains, the dazzling insight given Paul of God’s plan for salvation, and of course the Star whose refulgence captures us if, like the eastern mages, we care to look and follow.

But Epiphany, unlike Christmas, reminds us that there is also darkness and that it is deep. That people are alienated from their homes and, ultimately, from each other is news neither to Isaiah nor to us. That the poor and lowly are merely the most afflicted by oppression, violence, poverty, and misuse of power was as evident to the psalmist in the ninth century before Christ’s birth as it is to us in the third millennium after. That rulers and authorities are badly in the dark was as clear to Paul as it is to any 21st century student of current events. And that terrified or even indignant rulers resort to dark deeds in order to maintain power is no less evident in the organized religion’s history of inquisitions, intifadas, and cover-ups than it is when Herod sends troops to massacre the boy babies of Bethlehem lest one of them grow up to challenge his right to his throne.

Thrones, even in a 21st-century democracy, are common. Though I’ve made a point of avoiding obvious ones, I find I occupy many: as parent, as customer, as teacher or assessor, as person who determines a budget or a schedule, even as driver in possession of right-of-way. I am aware of the temptation to occupy those little thrones like Herod—not I hope, to the extent of degrading someone simply because I could, but it’s hard to resist barking an order, delivering a snub or put-down, downplaying someone else’s gifts (or my own), even resisting the healing or the oversight I need.

The darkness, in short, is not just Out There, it is In Here, and Herod is my brother.

The Light that judges and redeems and heals and loves is thus not only for the Gentiles as well as the Jews but for the Herods out there as well as the ones in here. And it calls me to spend less time finger-pointing and more time following.


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