Pentecost, A Poet's Tale

(from Act's chapter 1 and 2—a story of incarnation)

"What in the world is going on? I've never participated in a Shavuot ("Festival of Weeks," a holiday commemorating the grain harvest and the teachings of Moses given at Sinai) so full of energy."
"I know. Isn't it great? It's as if God were about to give the Torah (teachings) to us all over again."
"I imagine this is exactly how it felt at the foot of Mount Sinai when Moses presented the Torah to the people for the first time. There had to be such a sense of promise. For the first time our people had tangible ways to practice being God's shalom (peace and good will) in the world."

"Isn't that Peter, the follower of Jesus, up there speaking?"
"It sure is!"
"Isn't he an uneducated Galilean fisher? Isn't his native tongue Aramaic? Where did he learn to speak Greek so eloquently?"
"Greek? What do you mean? That's the finest Leshon HaKodesh ("The Holy Tongue," Hebrew) I've ever heard. And to think that he'd be so bold as to use it for such a public occasion is magnificent! Praise Elohim!"
"What are you two talking about? I know both Greek and Hebrew. What you are hearing is Arabic, the language of the eastern scholars."
"What?"

"You know what is happening, don't you? Each of you is hearing what is happening through the language of your own imagination. Even when you know multiple languages, your dominant language, the language of you imagination, is whichever one you think in.
"Wow! We expected something special to happen today, but never this. Amazing."
"Expected something to happen? What do you mean? Who are 'we?'"
"Those off us who have pledged our allegiance to Jesus over Caesar."
"So you are a disciple of Jesus."
"Yes, I am."
"You said you were expecting something to happen. What did you mean?"

"It's just that as we counted the 49 days of the grain harvest we knew something was brewing. It was as if the spirit Jesus promised were being distilled in us.
"It all started at the close of Sabbath during Passover. We were devastated. The one to whom we had pledged our lives had been executed just two days before. Still it was time to engage in the Counting of the Omer (the 49 day ceremony of introspection and thanks that commences with an offering of a certain measure of barley). We felt as lowly as the livestock that eat the barley of the seven week harvest we would begin that day, but we gathered anyway in the upper room at the house of Gideon here in Jerusalem for the blessing of the Omer. The traditional blessing was made, 'Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with his commandments and commanded us to count the Omer.' However, the spirit of the season was not in us, at least not that night.
"The next morning the miraculous and unexpected happened. News soon came to us that Jesus, the Messiah, had risen! It was a harvest gift unmatched.
"Needless to say, we were now ecstatic. Those 40 days spent with the Master after the resurrection were like the coming of rain after a famine; or more in keeping with the season, like the answer to prayers for dew after the rain, so the barley can be harvested and the wheat can grow. But then he was gone again, and the revelry in our spirits went with him.
"I was there when he ascended. I heard the strange man and women who reminded us that we would see him again. Nevertheless, our sorrow for having lost him again, even under these best of circumstances, was palpable.
"Some remembered that he had told us to tarry together in Jerusalem for a while, so we decided to presume upon our friend Gideon's good graces once more. This time, however, it was not to mourn, but to hold fast for just a bit longer to the feelings of camaraderie we felt in each other's presence.
"In deference to that old adage about throwing guests out with the leftover fish, one might expect that Gideon's good graces and even our own tolerance for one another would shortly run thin; they did not. Each time a family was tempted to leave, Gideon deterred them with the most sincere expressions of gratitude for their remaining just a little while longer. As a poet, it was a most wondrous thing to witness. Being there inspired many a verse. It was like watching the creation of the garden in Eden. I saw why she has so often been referred to as a mother who opened her arms and gave of herself so freely, willingly for the sustenance of her children. Not only that, it was as if a grapevine with a multiplicity of branches and shoots that would typically run in disparate directions from one another or contend with one another as a tangled canopy competing for sunlight suddenly, mystically found itself pruned of selfish intent and began to bear the most cooperative, luscious fruit in nourishment to one another.
"Perhaps it had something to do with the character work we were doing in observance of the counting of the Omer. Instead of focusing mainly on good works, as is our custom, each day we would nurture the grains of others-interestedness within ourselves, as Jesus admonished. With this heart for others we embodied the way of he who washed the twelve's feet. As a result, each day saw increasingly more inspiring demonstrations of patience, joy, gentleness, meekness, self-control, peace, kindness, faithfulness, love.
"Then this morning we gathered for one last breakfast together. I sat in the window just soaking in the warmth of the spirit in the room. Jacob the formerly Self-Pitying (the one over there who walks with the limp) came into the courtyard with some more kindling. Peter the formerly Cowardly and John the formerly Self-Absorbed had just gotten back with a fresh portion of last night's catch. Mary the formerly Needy was showing some of the young ladies and young men how to kneed bread. Martha the formerly Busy—surprise, surprise—was sitting down talking with some of our newest friends. Hadai the formerly Lazy came back into the house with another pair of hot wheat loaves to set aside for each family's Shavuot offering of First Fruit. The dining room and the adjoining courtyard were filled with activity and vibrant energy.
"When all was prepared, we blessed the food and ate and savored every moment and morsel. In fact, the best of the meal was not the nourishment delivered to our stomachs but the grace of feasting on the fruit of each other's spirits. If this were the beauty, peace and good will afforded us in the kingdom of God, I dare say I would never tire of bearing witness to it. That which can produce joy out of sorrow, boldness out of timidity, comprehension out of babel is, indeed, a more excellent way than either the hardships of Roman occupation or dubiousness of Jewish self-rule!"
"And in that moment it was as if the very heavens laughed and clapped for joy, creation witnessing the reincarnation of it's beloved. A mighty wind rushed through the house carrying with it the sweetness of spring that ignited the spirit in that room leaving in its wake a trail of flame, as if emanating from our heads. We became, as Jesus foretold, candles and torch lights to shine before men—even in the brightness of day—that all might see our good works and know that they originate with the One who calls us her own. We had been filled with the Spirit and confidence of God.
"We gathered up our loaves, two per family, and like the yeast that leavens them, we permeated the crowds that gathered here in front of the temple in hopes of sharing our joy on this day of thanksgiving. It was then that what you hear started to happen. As we joined in the festivities, members of our party began to speak with those around them, and what came out their mouths—or at least what was heard—was not the common language of Palestine, but languages particular to those with whom they were talking. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans and Cappadocians, Asians, Egyptians, Libyans, Cyreneans, Cretans, Arabs and visitors from Rome—both native Jews and gentile converts—in their own languages they heard of God’s deeds of power. It's as if God were intent on the message of a kingdom greater than Caesar's being carried into all nations, even today, by the very Jews who have gathered here from all parts of the earth!"

"What an amazing story. If I had not heard it so beautifully put, I would have likely said the lot of you were filled with wine!"
"You might say we are. We are once old but now renewed wineskins, filled with the new wine of the Holy Spirit, ready to share with any who would also receive it."
"Well, how 'bout a drink! I'd love to hear more about this Jesus who inspires you with hope in the days of Caesar."
"Certainly. Let's have at it. All of you are welcome to come. Drinks all around!"

The Pursuit of Respectability—Episode 2

(taken from Ezra, Nehemiah and Isaiah 56—a story of inauguration)


Not everyone agreed with Nehemiah and Ezra. Among what was left of the tradition of the school of the prophets from Elijah and Elisha's time, there was strong descent. It came from those who had been disciples of the prophet Isaiah, whose writings now make up the third movement of the Book of Isaiah in the Bible. In the great tradition of their teacher who had stood boldly against the excesses to Israel's leaders before seeing them carried off into Babylonian captivity, these students now spoke out with poetic potency against the excesses of the ever so respectable elite who had returned from Babylon:

"Thus says the Lord:
Maintain justice, and do what is right,
for soon my salvation will come,
and my deliverance be revealed.

"Happy is the mortal who does this,
the one who holds it fast,
who keeps the sabbath, not profaning it,
and refrains from doing any evil.

"Do not let the foreigner joined to the Lord say,
‘The Lord will surely separate me from his people’;
and do not let the eunuch say,
‘I am just a dry tree.’
For thus says the Lord:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant,
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
a monument and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that shall not be cut off.

"And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord,
to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord,
and to be his servants,
all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it,
and hold fast my covenant—
these I will bring to my holy mountain,
and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt-offerings and their sacrifices
will be accepted on my altar;
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
for all peoples.
Thus says the Lord God,
who gathers the outcasts of Israel,
I will gather others to them
besides those already gathered." (Isaiah 56:1-8)

It was a gracious yet pointed rebuke. These disciple prophets, who are commonly collectively referred to as Third Isaiah, proclaimed their message in the streets of Jerusalem and throughout the Palestinian countryside. They also wrote it down allowing the scribal and priestly classes to refer back to it. They start by acknowledging how just Ezra and Nehemiah's initial reforms, the Sabbath reforms, were. In doing so, they save us from the temptation of labeling those we disagree with as evil. Third Isaiah also makes it clear that what God favors is justice, not cultural respectability. They define justice as keeping Sabbath and turning away from evil. In appealing to Sabbath practice, the prophet is invoking the heart of the ethical tradition of scripture. To keep Sabbath is to return thanks to God, but not in word alone. It involves making sure everyone has enough and no one has too much. In so doing, one celebrates the gifts of the Creator by keeping them circulating rather than concentrating (Exodus 16:16-19). Sabbath also involves weeding out poverty wherever it takes root by periodically releasing those who groan under the burden of debt (Deut 15) and by allowing the poor to glean the fields of the wealthy free of charge (Ex 23:10-12). At length, Sabbath is a refusal to allow a system of slavery to ever take hold among a people liberated from Pharaoh, by putting limits on work, on accumulation and on privilege.

When deeply embraced, Sabbath practice eventually subverts any prejudices one may secretly harbor. So as for this business of excluding 'outsiders' from God's favor, Third Isaiah sees it ultimately incongruent with a Sabbath ethic. 'Let not the foreigner say… Let not the eunuch say… For this is what God says…!' And God's promises are so inclusive, so embracing, so opposite the exclusion that the ever more respectable elites of Israel had drifted towards. Whereas the respectable kept drawing smaller and smaller circles of who were really in God's favor, Third Isaiah paints a picture of a God who keeps redrawing the circles wider and wider, so that they could eventually include you and me. How beautiful is that?

Third Isaiah's message from God excited some and dismayed others. The people debated it for a while, but sad to say, Third Isaiah's vision of a radically inclusive Israel was rejected by the ever more respectable who finally reestablish political control over Israel. These gentry who had returned from Babylon eventual pushed the peasants and foreigners off the most fertile land. They allowed the gap between the rich and the desperately poor to mount. They excluded all but those who were most like themselves from having a public voice in the future of the nation. And how much favor did their pursuit of respectability curry with God? Never again in the biblical narrative is Israel completely free of some type of foreign occupation.

And what, you may wonder, happened to the rejected message of Third Isaiah? Four and a half centuries later, a young Jesus of Nazareth preaching his first sermon dusted off an Isaiah scroll one day in synagogue and began reading from the heart of Third Isaiah's message. And when he was done, he added: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21). The struggle for inclusive justice, against an exclusive respectability, had begun anew. Indeed, it is not overstating the case to say that Jesus may have staked his entire ministry on the vision of Third Isaiah. Not only is Third Isaiah invoked in Jesus’ inaugural sermon at Nazareth, but also at the culmination of his struggle with the public authorities (the Ezras and Nehemiahs of his day) in the Jerusalem Temple. In the midst of his dramatic 'cleansing' of the temple courtyard Jesus quotes directly from Third Isaiah's first poem of protest against Israel's elites, "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples" (Lk 19:46 = Is 56:8).

Episode 2 contributed by Ched Myers

The Pursuit of Respectability—Episode 1

(taken from Ezra, Nehemiah and Isaiah 56—a story of inauguration)


With the completion of the wall around Israel's capital city, Jerusalem, there arose a wave of national pride. It had only taken fifty-two days of focused effort. The repatriated exiles, the returnees from Babylon, were excited about being recognizable as a nation again, no longer the conquered and displaced people whose gentry had been carried off into bondage and whose peasants had been left to eek out subsistence on the surrounding lands. And as is often the case, as the returning gentry felt better about themselves, they also felt better about how God felt about them. The possibility of God's renewed pride for Israel was exhilarating. Had he not already extended his favor by allowing them to return and restore the temple and the city walls?

Though the total city had not been rebuilt, the two most important symbols of a promising future had been. The first was the temple, a symbol of God's abiding presence. Now the walls and gates. Walls and gates are symbols of a nation's self-determination. Like the walls of your bedroom which define the space you call "yours" and the door to your bedroom which limits access (even if it stays open all the time), Israel's walls and gates said, "This is our city, and we decide who gets in." Gates and walls also give a nation the ability protect itself if necessary. And wasn't that what God wanted? Wasn't that why he had allowed them to return: to redefine themselves and to protect that renewed vision?

That is exactly what Nehemiah, former cupbearer to the king of Persia appointed governor of Israel, and Ezra, former scribe to the king of Persia commissioned as high priest, believed. Once the physical walls that defined who Israel was as a nation were complete, these two men believed it was time to erect by analogy the cultural walls that would help define the restored Israel further. After 70 years in exile, who were they? They were the people of God's favor, were they not? Okay, but what does in mean to be the "people of God's favor"?

What does God favor?

This is a tough question to answer because it is not always the same thing. It's not that we don't have definite clues. It's just that there is always the temptation to trick ourselves into believing that God is in favor of whatever we favor at any particular time.

Our understanding of God seldom exceeds the limits of our own perspective. One way to understand this might be to make an analogy. For example, if I'm looking at a globe, appreciating the particular topographic features of my own country, it would be very easy for me to assume that since the land I love is a certain way, surely other countries that I can't see from where I stand must be quite similar. I may wonder, "If God saw fit to shape my native land in certain ways—to give it certain features and certain natural resources (a certain form of government or a certain religious heritage)—isn't that a sign of what he favors? Isn't that what all land God favors looks like?" But from where I stand, just looking at my own country on my globe, I can't see what other countries look like on the other side of the world, so my appreciation of all the many different ways land (or even people) can be shaped is limited by what little I can see. This is true of anyone.

Nehemiah and Ezra were also limited by what they could see. One such limitation was their preoccupation with respectability. They were respectable people multiple times over. Not only had they both been officials in the court of the most powerful king in that part of the world, which gave them both a great deal of personal respectability, they were both decedents of a long line of respectable Israelites, cultural heros and heroines immortalized in Israel's stories. To add to that, their families possessed land, title and position in Jewish society that, if they were successful in reestablishing the pre-exile social order, they would be able to reclaim. These were the ways in which they defined respectability: position, possession, parentage. They had grown up seeing this type of respectability rewarded and had learned to value it. So, naturally, when they opened the book of Moses (Torah) to hear how their forebears had understood God's favor, what stood out to them was what sounded like God's shared preoccupation with this same type of respectability.

When they read, "As for the male and female slaves whom you may have, it is from the nations around you that you may acquire male and female slaves. You may also acquire them from among the aliens residing with you, and from their families that are with you, who have been born in your land; and they may be your property. You may keep them as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property. These you may treat as slaves, but as for your fellow Israelites, no one shall rule over the other with harshness" (Leviticus 25:44-46). They thought they heard, 'God favors Jews not gentiles,' but they missed, "The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien [stranger, foreigner, gentile] as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Lev. 19:34). When they read, "The Lord will make you abound in prosperity, in the fruit of your womb, in the fruit of your livestock, and in the fruit of your ground in the land that the Lord swore to your ancestors to give you... if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God.... But if you will not obey the Lord your God... cursed shall be the fruit of your womb, the fruit of your ground, the increase of your cattle, and the issue of your flock" (Deuteronomy 28:11,13,15,18). They thought they heard, 'God favors the wealthy,' or that 'wealth is a sign of God's favor,' but they missed, "Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.... Be careful that you do not entertain a mean thought... and give nothing; your neighbor might cry to the Lord against you, and you would incur guilt" (Lev. 15:11,9). When they read, "The equivalent for a male... twenty to sixty years of age... shall be fifty shekels of silver.... If the person is a female, the equivalent is thirty shekels." They thought they heard, "God favors men over women." And maybe they did hear it. Maybe some of their ancestors shared the same limitations and preoccupations Ezra and Nehemiah had.

To celebrate the completion of the physical walls and to communicate the need for the building of an analogous wall of respectability, Nehemiah and Ezra called the people of Israel together—all who they believed could understand the message they wanted to communicate—and read to them out of the Torah. Once they were finished reading together, Nehemiah and Ezra commissioned the Levites to lead out in smaller group discussions of the value of respectability and how they as a people might achieve it and thus truly earn God's favor. When all was done, the people began to weep with guilt. They obviously figured they had done some things wrong. If nothing else, they had not been as respectable as they were now hearing they should be.

Like the sincere people that they were, these elite of Israel who attended the reading began to look for ways to become more respectable (...and therefore retain God's favor). The first thing they thought they could do was to start observing the cultural holidays and feasts that had been forgotten while in exile. They did. It was great! So they began to make all sorts of promises regarding things they would do or remember. Good things. Just things. Particularly ways of demonstrating the Sabbath ethic of enough: appreciating God's provision by resting from work each week, giving the land time to rest every seven years, forgiving debts, sustained routine sharing of their harvest with those in need, those without and those in vocation, participating in the rhythmic communal practices that remind one of this type of justice. Good things. Just things.

But then came a practice that seemed out of place, that seemed off key. The ever more respectable Israelite elites "found written that no Ammonite or Moabite should ever enter the assembly of God, because [years ago] they did not... [help] the Israelites with bread and water, but hired Balaam against them to curse them—yet... God turned the curse into a blessing. When the people heard the law, they separated from Israel all those of foreign descent." How odd, how random, to embrace a 1000-year-old grudge as if unto the Lord. Nehemiah went as far as to record:
"In those days also I saw Jews who had married women of Ashdod, Ammon, and Moab; and half of their children spoke the language of Ashdod, and they could not speak the language of Judah, but spoke the language of various peoples. And I contended with them and cursed them and beat some of them and pulled out their hair! And I made them take an oath in the name of God, saying, 'You shall not give your daughters to their sons, or take their daughters for your sons or for yourselves....'
"And one of the sons of Jehoiada, son of the high priest Eliashib, was the son-in-law of Sanballat the Horonite; I chased him away from me. Remember them, O my God, because they have defiled the priesthood, the covenant of the priests and the Levites.
"Thus I cleansed them from everything foreign.... Remember me, O my God, for good."
How did the respectable Nehemiah and his ever more respectable fellow elites of Israelite society get to where they were assaulting people and asking God to bless it?

One would think that the vehement exclusion of one group—foreigners—for the sake of increased respectability would be enough, but as is often the case with this kind of thing, respectability is seldom satisfied with the exclusion of just one group of 'outsiders.' To do it once is to become addicted. It didn't take long before the ever more respectable Israelite insiders had compiled for themselves a growing list of outsiders to pick on: foreigners, Israelites married to people of foreigner decent, the children of mixed marriages (all of whom coincidentally were longtime residents of the land these returnees from Babylon were trying to reclaim) had to go; those without land, women, children born out of wedlock, eunuchs (sexual minorities), weren't banished but were afforded few or no political rights. Only the most respectable could have full rights in the temple assembly. Only they could retain God's favor. At least that's what Nehemiah, Ezra and those most like them had come to believe.

The dispute over who's in or out of God's favor is pretty old.

Everything Costs Something

(taken from Exodus 4—a story of liberation)


If you've every heard the story of Moses, you may have gotten the idea that all the confusion in Moses' life happened before the burning bush, and that after the burning bush, everything was pretty straight forward: Moses goes home, tells his family what he has to do, packs his bags, goes to Egypt and gets the job done. There may have been some struggle along the way—some things Moses had to contend with—but Moses is often depicted as a man crystal clear as to his purpose and mission. However, that was not the case, as Aaron likely learned a few nights later when he met up with his brother's family at Mt. Sinai while they journeyed toward Egypt.

"So what did Zipporah say when you told her?" Aaron inquired upon sharing his own story and hearing of his younger brother's remarkable encounter with God.
"She was all for it—until she found out what it would cost."
"What do you mean?"
"After Jethro, Zipporah's father, gave us his blessing, we spent the rest of the day preparing for the journey and left the following morning, early. We kept a good pace. As desert dwellers, Zipporah's people know how to travel. By the end of the day, Geshom, our son, was very tired. We made camp, set a fire, and Zipporah and the child laid down. As I stayed awake and prayed, the Lord spoke to me and said I must circumcise my son here at the outset of our pilgrimage, even as Abraham did, as an act of faith and covenant.

"The next morning I told Zipporah what the Lord had asked of us. To my astonishment, she flatly refused. 'You will not cut my son! That is not a custom among my people. It may be something mothers among your people allow, but I will not. And if you try to make me, I'll go back to my father and leave you to return to Egypt by yourself.'

"I had no idea what to do? Zipporah had never denied me before. She was so resolute that I just decided to drop it. I figured we could talk about it again at another time. I saw no reason to force the issue. Zipporah had already left her family for me, something she could never have anticipated. We were on our way to Egypt in response to the Lord's command. That was enough for the time being. Or so I thought."

"The next morning I woke up, and it felt like a boulder was lying on my chest. It felt as if God were trying to kill me. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't talk; I could barely move. I was scared to death. I was only able to reach out and swat at Zipporah. She woke startled by such a violent call into a new day. When she perceived how I moved and grabbed at my chest, she began to howl with fear. She didn't know what to do. She kept asking, "What's wrong? What must I do?" She cried out to God on my behalf. Then in the mist of her prayer she ran out the tent.

"My eyes rolled around my head as I rolled around the floor of our tent, snatching momentary glances of the crimson ceiling and the purple blankets and the brown earth and the white light of day... and... and... I thought I glimpsed Zipporah returning. I could have sworn I saw her brandishing a flint knife. I became even more afraid, now of what she might do to me! Instead she seemed to be moving toward Gershom. I thought she was losing her mind. I summoned all the strength within me. I rolled over to my hands and knees. The ground teetered beneath me as I struggled to rise to my feet. I gripped my chest even tighter and dropped to one knee, using my free hand to brake my fall. I groped toward her but topple over. I watched in initial horror as my wife tears the clothes from my sleeping son's body, takes something out of her mouth that she's been chewing, applies whatever it was liberally to the boy's midsection, waits a moment and then proceeds to quickly peel the foreskin from his private with the knife. Once done, she immediately applied a salve to Geshom's wounded pride. I don't know which hurt more at that moment, my chest or the sight of my son being circumcised unexpectedly.

"Zipporah then did the weirdest thing. She throws the boy's foreskin at me. It lands and clings to the big toe of my right foot, and she screams at the top of her lungs something like, "You bloody husband!" After that, she turns, runs and falls into an embrace of Gershom who by now is writhing in discomfort on his sleeping mat.

"The surprising detail of this observation slowly brought two awarenesses to my attention. First, that my chest was no longer hurting. Second, that despite my gratitude for the first awareness, I was far from pain free. Perhaps in sympathy for my son or perhaps because my wife snuck a kick in, my loins were throbbing!

"Wow. That's some stuff," Aaron replied, stunned. "All that over brit milah (circumcision)."
"Yeah."
"Who would have thought that circumcision was important enough to almost lose your life over."
"I don't know, but I've been trying to make sense of it all. Perhaps its importance reflects the seriousness of preparation. I've been thinking about everything that has happened in my life," Moses reminisced. "Early on, I was in such a hurry to complete the story of being a deliverer to my people. Now, once I've finally given up on my ability to affect any change for the Hebrews, here comes God saying the time has come.
"I was first tempted to think that everything I experienced and learned in my youth was worthless—whether it was the stories our mother, Jocabed, told me as my nurse or the ceremonies, feasts and social responsibilities I learned to celebrate while with you, even our own circumcisions. I had even labeled hollow the scholarly, political and cultural lessons I learned in Pharaoh's court. It had all begun to seem pretty useless to me as I wandered the desert with Jethro's sheep. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe my timing was off, but the preparation was no less important."
"Well, like the elders say," Aaron chimed in, "'Everything costs something—good or bad.' Either you pay the cost in preparation for the task you are about to undertake, or you pay the cost of refusing to prepare.
"And one doesn't get to choose the terms of preparation or the consequence for remaining unprepared," Moses concurred as he used a stick to poke the fire that warmed their late night conversation. "Each task requires what it requires."

"So how's Geshom feeling after his ordeal?" Aaron yawned and stretched ready for bed.
"Well, let's just say he was relieved when the day's walk had ended."
"Yeah, there's just no comfortable travel in his condition." They both chuckled uneasily at the thought.
"The upside is that the trip can only get better from here on out."
"Sure. Provided we don't wander into any plagues along the way."
"But what are the odds of that happening?"
"You're an eighty-year-old fugitive who was told by a fiery plant to demand the most powerful ruler in this part of the earth let all his free labor just leave, and your only credibility is a staff that turns into a snake and a spokesman who is but a slave himself."
"Well when you put it that way, it does sound a bit absurd, but stranger things have happened."
"Oh yeah. When?"

The Making of Job—Episode 2

(taken for Job, chapter 2)

Well, Lucifer was undone. He thought for sure that the compounding tragedy, one awful hit after the other, would be enough to devastate Job to the point that he would curse God and prove Lucifer right. "Surely loyalty cannot survive such great loss," he thought to himself. But as awful as things had gotten for Job—and things were awful, there is no way to gloss over that or to minimize it—Job was not destroy. And what that meant for Lucifer was something was wrong.

At the next general assembly, Lucifer was in his seat at the start of the meeting when the sons and daughters of God gathered to report on the generative activities unfolding throughout the universe. God could barely wait to bring up the subject on everybody's mind. "Have you considered our son, Job?" God asked breaking into a broad smile. The room erupted with laughter. "'There is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man who... [has the utmost respect for] God and turns away from evil. He still persists in his integrity, although you incited me against him, to destroy him for no reason.’"

Then Lucifer retorted, "‘Skin for skin! All that people have they will give to save their lives. [Just] stretch out your hand now and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse you to your face.’"

God paused for a moment, staring deeply into Lucifer's eyes with a strange mixture of pity and annoyance. "‘Very well, he is in your power; only spare his life.’"

So Lucifer left the assembly again, and the Bible tells us that he "inflicted loathsome sores on Job from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. Job took a... [piece of broken pottery] with which to scrape himself, and sat among the ashes."

Then in despair Job's wife said to him, "‘Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.’"

But Job responded, "You speak foolishly. 'Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?’"

And the judgement of the Hebrews who first told the story was that "in all this Job did not sin with his lips."

So the stage was set for one of the most dramatic showdowns ever captured in tale. And as with Hollywood or Broadway productions of today, much of the most meaningful action took place not up front, but behind the scenes. Perhaps that's the first big thing we learn about the stories in which we find ourselves. Many of them are attempts to go behind the scenes, to apprehend the unknown, to perceive the unseen, to broach the unfathomable. Why, you might wonder, would one seek out the hidden? Because that is human nature. We seek to organize and give meaning to our lives through the stories we tell. And sometimes that means filling in the gaps with the best we can surmise at a particular moment. We do this everyday when we tell the parts of any story that involves stuff we couldn't possibly know, like what a family member must have been thinking or what a friend did while she was away from us or what exactly two people said to one another that brought them to an historically significant decision—none of which we could know for a certainty.

It also means that we often seek to make concrete, realities that are often intangible. For example, in our stories we may describe what is to us a climactic struggle between opposing forces as a simple conversation between untamed iconic powers, God and Satan, for example. Or we may go the other way with it, making the typical highly dramatic—whichever serves the story best. This is just our human way of trying to get a handle on things that are beyond our perspective. Sometimes the 'goodness' and 'badness' of a situation seem universal and very clear. Other times, we pass that judgement based on our own limited perceptions of right and wrong. We can't forever tell child-like fables in which we speak of good and bad as domesticated animals that do our bidding: "Nice Good, you stay where I can see you," or "You Mean Bad, get back where you belong!" So we weave our interpretations of these very real opposing forces at work in our lives into our tellings of our stories, expecting that the reader forever understands that any story told is always told from a particular point of view.

We tend to use fancy words to describe this very simple and natural and just process. For the Hebrews who first told Job's story, the act of filling in the gaps was a sacred work—as sacred as just getting the facts straight—which over time came to be known as "midrash". In contemporary times, we may say that the author 'fictionalized' part of the story—in other words, 'made it up,' like much of the dialogue in the Job story—but that is not to say the author lied. Fiction is no less true simply because it is imagined. Imagination is how we as humans connect the dots of our individual experiences, make sense of our world and know that we are not alone. As long as we confess this and remember that not every part of every story we tell comes from direct experience, we are fine. It's when we become certain that our particular telling of a story happened exactly the way we tell it and has only one very definite interpretation that we tend to get in trouble—or better yet, become very troublesome to others. However, as we understand and experience more, we should expect to interpret and tell our stories differently, and every once in a great while, we may even begin to tell different stories.

These first couple episodes of Job help us to understand such things and a great deal more.

The Making of Job—Episode 1

(taken from Job, chapter 1)

There is an ancient allegory—perhaps the oldest story in the Bible—which explores the epic struggle between good and bad and humanity's efforts to tell the difference. Like any cherished old story, this story shaped the way those who told it understood the world around them. In fact, there are those who even believe that this story may hold the secret to help us properly value all other Bible stories. Let's tell it and see.

The story goes that one day God called a general assembly of all the sons and daughters of God. This assembly involved hearing reports of generative activities throughout the universe. Reports came in from all over. When it came time to hear the report from Earth, most members of the assembly expected only silence. It had been a long time since the assembly members had heard from her. Her guardian had long since turn his back on the assembly. As had become the custom, when Earth's name was called the guardians of the universe instinctively bowed their heads to whisper a blessing for her, when all of a sudden, the doors to the great chamber where the daughters and sons of God had gathered flew open and in strode Lucifer, the lost Guardian of Earth.

The Guardian assembly was flabbergasted. Who knew? No one had expected him to come. Despite old pangs of resentment, more than one tear was shed at the sight of their long-lost friend. As if nothing had changed in all the time Lucifer had been gone, God asked, "where have you been, our son?"
"Here and there throughout the earth," Lucifer answered with guarded frankness.
"So you've seen a thing or two," God responded, eyes searching, heart longing. "Have you learned anything?"
"Some."
"Some? Have you considered our son Job?"
"I've seen him."
"He's quite a man, wouldn't you say?"
"If you say so."
"What would you say?" God asked, eyes still searching, heart still longing.
"I say what I have always said," Lucifer replied volume rising, as he stood to his feet, looking deeply into all eyes assembled, "Job serves you for the same reason anyone else does: because you demand it, and you favor those who do."
"How dare you? You of all people should know that I make the sun to rise on the just and the unjust alike."
"Justice is in the eye of the beholder. Do you not protect him and his household and everything he has? You bless everything he does so that there is no end to his flocks and herds, food and land. I promise you this. If you were to take from him all he believes to be his, he would undoubtedly curse you."
"So you think?"
"So I know."

"So be it then," God decreed. Then to the members of the assembly she spoke, while also keeping a steady eye on Lucifer himself, "A wager has been brought, a challenge made. Your missing brother still believes that loyalty could never be an act of love but is always an act of self-interest or capitulation. What do you think?"
"He's a liar! He's a cheat! He's a usurper!" the crowd roared back.
"He's also your brother," she protested, and then came silence. "We will give him a fair hearing, for that is what love does." Then to Lucifer she said, "All right then. Take from Job what you will, but do not touch his health. Then we shall see the source of his loyalty to me."

So Lucifer left the assembly in the same strut of arrogance with which he had come. His followers met him upon his return. "The die is cast," he said to his legions. "We have been given carte blanche to wreak havoc in the life of Job. We may do what we want, but we cannot touch his body. So do your worst, my hoard. Go forth and take from him all he holds dear. Show him how fickle life can be."

So in that day, before he even knew it, Job from the land of Uz had lost everything he thought his own.

Now Job had a lot to lose. He was rich. He had three daughters and seven sons. In addition, he had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and very, very many employees. Now that may not sound like a lot by today's standards, but if we adjust for inflation and the difference between our time and the time when this story was first told, that would make him a multi-billionaire, maybe even the world's first trillionaire. He was big-time.

But that wasn't all we know about him. In fact, the most important thing about Job was the thing that was up for debate between God and Lucifer. You see, the word was that Job was a genuinely good guy. Not just 'good guy,' as in people liked him, but genuinely good, as in "blameless and upright, one who... [had the utmost respect for] God and turned away from evil." That's quite a reputation. Not the kind of thing that can be said of everybody. As the wise ones say, "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold" (Prov. 22:1). They also say, "The days of a good life are numbered, but a good name lasts for ever" (Eccl 41:14). Again, Job had a lot to lose.

The way the story goes, Job's children used to take turns throwing these huge parties at each other's house for days at a time. They would invite people from miles around. And when one was over, Job would always gather his children and their families and employees and his employees and their families together and recount for them their many blessings, reminding them of their particular responsibilities as people who had been blessed with so much. Then, as was the custom in those days, he would sacrifice burnt offerings as prayers on behalf of each of them.

One day, while Job was at home and his sons and daughters were off at the oldest brother's house, eating and drinking wine, the Bible tells us, "a messenger came to Job and said, ‘The oxen were ploughing and the donkeys were feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell on them and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.’ While the messenger was still speaking, another came and said, ‘The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and consumed them; I alone have escaped to tell you.’ While that messenger was still speaking, another came and said, ‘The Chaldeans formed three columns, made a raid on the camels and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.’ While he was still speaking, another came and said, ‘Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead; I alone have escaped to tell you.’"

Job was floored. He couldn't hear anymore. He stumbled aimlessly from the yard, into his house. Then like a man possessed, he frantically searched for a knife and a bowl. He ran outside, filled the bowl with water, sharpened the blade of the knife to a fine point, then haltingly, jaggedly, looking down at his reflection in the water, he began cutting off his hair. Then he tore his robe from his body, which is what people did in those days to show their frustration and complete helplessness, and he collapsed on the ground. It is at this point in the story that scripture records one of the most beautiful and heartfelt yet ironic laments that could be uttered. Job worshipped by saying, "‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’"

"In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing."