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As I was passing
through the Victoria airport security checkpoint this week, my
carry-on briefcase failed to pass the x-ray scanner, and it
was set aside for inspection. Lo and behold, the offending
item was a crucifix that my grandmother had given me. A sharp
instrument, indeed! At first, my reaction was amusement as the
guard pulled the offending item from my case. Then I realized
it was a grace moment. The cross was not so much an offense to
security but rather a defense against insecurity. "In the
cross of Christ I glory," as the hymn proclaims. This was
a graceful wedge into my being this past week.
Somehow I think
the events of September 11 are now beginning to catch up with
us, even as we restart our lives. First the images of the dust
and ashes at the World Trade Center, which for my son Andrew
has become a pilgrimage site as he returns to work four blocks
away. By day in the mist of rubble and dust, and at night in
the harsh glare of the klieg lights, he stands in awe of the
event. Several times he has just stood there in silence. He
can’t pass the firehouse near his home in Brooklyn without a
tear welling up, knowing that three firemen were lost. Ground
Zero has become a place of endings and beginnings for Andrew,
for me, for us as a nation. I imagine my son’s face and body
covered in dust and toxic particles crying out to the Lord,
like Abraham in today’s passage, who proclaims: "I am
but dust and ashes." I suspect many of us wanted to take
it upon ourselves to speak to the Lord that day. The fact that
our sanctuary was full testified to that desire.
Not so long ago, I
realized that beginnings and endings mark so much of the story
of the people of God. As one door closes, another opens. Just
when we think Good Friday is all there is, three days later we
are treated to the Resurrection. Such is the rhythm of life. I
suspect we all feel somewhat in a Holy Saturday situation
reflecting on the events of Good Friday/Tuesday, September 11,
wondering if that is all there is. There is an eerie silence
in our psyche. All kinds of emotions swirl inside us. We are
at one of those junctures. Is this a time of beginnings or
endings, we ask? These are the times when the mysteries of
life become more evident, more unexplainable, more urgent; a
time when the toughest theological questions are asked.
Turning to the
Book of Genesis with its many stories of new beginnings out of
old endings, I was intrigued by the story of Abraham
confronting God in today’s lesson. In verses I didn’t read
today (Gen. 19:27-28), we are told that "Abraham went
early in the morning to the place where he had stood before
the Lord; and he looked down toward Sodom and Gomorrah and
toward all the land of the plain and saw the smoke of the land
going up like the smoke of a furnace." I suspect many of
us felt like Abraham as we watched through our televisions (or
in Andrew’s case, in person). What were we thinking? For
many of us, the three Rs no longer meant reading, ‘riting
and ‘rithmatic, but revenge, retaliation and retribution.
The story of the
destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah reflects a theology of
retribution, common to ancient middle-eastern wisdom of the
time, rather than a literal prescription for today’s
readers. With that in mind, I was jarred by an article this
week in the Christian Science Monitor entitled
"Why Do They Hate Us?" The article had this
startling declaration: "In the US, military planners are
deciding how to exact retribution. To many people in
the Middle East and beyond, the carnage of September 11 was retribution
for the United States’ foreign policy and alleged injustices
in the region." Whatever the merit of that statement, we
are nonetheless faced once again with the issue of balancing
justice and righteousness with a natural desire for revenge,
retribution and retaliation.
The three verses
which precede today’s reading (Gen. 18:17-19) make a
remarkable statement: "I have chosen him, that he may
charge his children and his household after him to keep the
way of the Lord by doing justice and righteousness, so
that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what he has promised
him." Then, in the very next breath, we learn that
Abraham takes this responsibility seriously and remarkably
challenges God with the question of whether it is ever worth
destroying the innocent to punish the guilty. This graceful
wedge of Abraham’s is asserted as a criticism of the
standard quid pro quo mode of retribution. Abraham is later
vindicated by the prophet Hosea who, in commenting on the
destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, says about God in Hosea
11:9 and 11: " I will not execute my fierce anger, I will
not again destroy….. I will not come in wrath."
A word of caution
is perhaps advised at this point. It is important to see the
Bible as a whole. It shows a progression of theological
development from the earliest stories of Genesis through the
prophets to the New Testament of Jesus Christ. Biblical
theological development is not static but dynamic. Scripture
is always growing and pointing towards its theological, moral
and ethical fulfillment in the person of Jesus Christ, who
fulfills all the law and the prophets.
The scriptures are
always full of surprises; the last word is never death and
destruction. Abraham’s astonishing dialogue with God offers
new possibilities against the traditional wisdom of
retribution. Noted Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggeman,
in his commentary on the book of Genesis (for which I am
indebted for much of the theological content of this sermon)
believes that the passage I read to you today was written as a
response to the events at Sodom and Gomorrah.
Abraham raises a
hard theological issue that cannot be silenced by the
simplicity of the retribution tale in Genesis 19. Listen to
Abraham as he stands near, up close and personal: "Will
you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?"
Then he goes on to push God until the principle is
established. Abraham seems to be putting God on the defensive:
"Shall not the judge of the earth do what is just?"
WOW! Tough stuff. Go for it, Father Abraham!! By Abraham’s
willingness to take on God, he becomes the bearer of a new
radical theological possibility that is taken even further by
Jesus of Nazareth who invites us to turn the other cheek and
pray for our enemies and, heaven forbid, even love them. As we
discuss how we are to respond to the September 11 events,
Abraham offers us a caution when I suspect that retribution
theology feels like a more natural, if not a more comfortable,
response.
Are we to be
consigned to the brimstone that follows failed and faithless
human action or the justice and peace promised in Jesus
Christ? I am reminded of a form of schoolyard justice which
says if someone steals or cheats or whatever the
transgression, the whole class is punished on the premise that
the innocent will flush out the guilty. My own experience was
that this technique seldom worked, as the innocent ended up
being punished along with the guilty. Sound familiar?
Abraham becomes
the bearer of a new theological possibility. God is pressed by
Abraham to consider an alternative. Whereas the text states
that Abraham stood before the Lord, some ancient manuscripts
state that Yahweh stands before Abraham, a truly remarkable
role reversal. If that is the case, Abraham becomes God’s
theological conscience, taking his charge seriously. How dare
he! Oh please, Father Abraham, don’t go there.
Another grace note
this week entered my consciousness when I participated in a
Roman Catholic funeral mass for my late Aunt Florence. Father
Ho, the priest at St. Patrick’s in Victoria, British
Columbia, Canada, shared with my brother and me his story of
how, as a Vietnamese priest trained in a French Seminary in
Vietnam, the communists persecuted him for his faith after the
fall of Saigon. His vocation and his country had seemingly
been turned to rubble and ashes by war. He told us how he
escaped on foot through the jungles of Cambodia to a refugee
camp on the Thai border. From there, without family, he made
his way to Canada, having to learn English along the way. He
said he was living out the images in the movie The Killing
Fields. What an apt image for the September 11 event. The
killing fields are now in lower Manhattan and on the Potomac
River in Washington D.C. Yet, here was Fr. Ho, living
testimony to courage for his faith, whose cross of faith
enabled him to endure a tragic ending to his homeland and life
as he knew it, to experience new beginnings in a new land. His
was indeed a journey from Good Friday to Easter.
The central
question of this passage is: "Will the innocent be
destroyed along with the guilty?" "Shall not the
judge of the earth do justice?" (Gen. 18:25) Here Abraham
says, "Far be it from you," which is, in fact, a cry
of: "How could you!" What is at issue in this
dialogue is an understanding of the balance between justice
and righteousness.
It is the good
news of this passage, which presages the good news of Jesus
Christ, that in spite of the destruction of Sodom and
Gomorrah, God does remember Abraham and saves Lot. One is
enough to save. The text ends in Genesis 19:27-28 when Abraham
goes to experience the utter quiet after the devastation. All
life has been silenced. It is a dramatic scene made more
dramatic by the events of September 11. There is only death
and hopelessness, or so it seems. The story urges that we must
see it ourselves and then challenges us to say: "Never
again." There we stand with Andrew before the rubble and
wreckage of the World Trade Center asking: "Where is God
in all this?" There, too, we stand with Fr. Ho before the
rubble and dust of his homeland. As we reflect on September
11, we ask what kind of a world do we want? Are we heirs of
Abraham pressing for righteousness and justice? Remembering
once again God’s instruction to Abraham: "I have chosen
him (us), that he may charge his children and his household
after him to keep the way of Lord by doing justice and
righteousness." What kind of people of God are we to
be? Abraham offers us a legacy and a choice. Are we to follow
the traditional three Rs of revenge, retaliation and
retribution, or will we heed Abraham’s challenge for the
three Rs of righteousness, redemption and reconciliation? Oh
please, Father Abraham, how could you!
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