Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Response to the Questions I

This past Sunday, July 22nd, I facilitated the "Questions & Responses" service we have annually in the congregation I serve.  Congregants write questions on index cards, which are then collected, and to which I offer my in-the-moment responses.  Over the next several weeks I plan to devote this page to attempts to offer written responses.  If you'd like to see the entire list of questions asked, they're the bulk of my post-Sunday post on July 23rd.

For the most part I expect my responses to the questions I was able to play with on Sunday to be very similar to what I said them.  (Although I reserve the right to have changed my mind in the meantime!)  There are also several questions that were asked more than once (in slightly different ways).  I'll group them together here.  (And I'd remind readers that these are only my responses, and my responses today, at that.)



Why have Jews been hated/killed/ostracized for millennia (including, of course, in many quarters now)?

I think that there are at least two answers.  From a traditional, orthodox Jewish theological perspective (as I understand it), I might say that it is in some ways "G_d's will."  What I mean is that a tenant of Judaism is that the Jewish people are singled out, specially and specifically chosen by G_d -- "G_d's chosen people."  And throughout the Jewish scriptures were told of a G_d who tests and challenges people.  (Think of Job, for instance.)  These "tests" are, in my understanding of the most orthodox thinking, a means by which G_d demonstrates G_d's magnificence and magnaminousn-ess.  Individuals, and the people of Israel as a whole, go though untold persecution of many kinds, in order to demonstrate G_d's ability to bring them through it to safety.  (I want to be clear -- this is far from a universally held understanding, and no doubt many Jews would find such thinking abhorrent.  I also want to acknowledge that I may have this entirely wrong, and am viewing orthodox Jewish teachings through the lens of orthodox Christian teachings.  I would be very happy to be corrected!)

The other answer that makes sense to me is that Jewish monotheism was in stark contrast to the polytheism which prevailed all around them.  In places like Greece or Rome, for instance, worship of the gods was both assumed and expected.  But the people of Israel wouldn't engage in the traditional practices, because their one G_d had specifically commanded them not to worship idols and false gods.  This put them at odds with the prevailing culture, which is never a good place to be.

This alienation was further expanded as the early Christian church was being born.  The earliest Christians were actually Jews who say no reason to give up their Jewish-ness, believing that Jesus represented the fulfillment of Jewish teaching.  Most other Jews didn't agree, and these Jewish-Christians were pushed out of synagogues and denigrated as heretics.  In their efforts to gain more converts to this nascent faith, Jewish-Christians (and, then, Gentile-Christians) needed to show how their religion was "better" than the Jewish faith from which they'd sprung.  That, and perhaps an all too human impulse to attack those who've attacked you, led to a number of anti-semetic sentiments written into the New Testament and embedded in practice.  Over time, this animosity became normative, and as Christianity developed into a temporal power as well as a spiritual one, it became increasingly acceptable to use the Jews as scapegoats for all sorts of imagined problems.



From a religious perspective, what does "community" mean?

"Community" comes from the same root as "common" and "communion," and as it applies specifically to human communities, it denotes a group of people who have something in common and who have with one another a deep connection (perhaps the underlying meaning of "communion").  A "community," then, is a group of people with whom a person can be their true self, knowing that they will be accepted, loved, and even celebrated for who they are in their wholeness.



Finding a place?  Finding a passion?

Assuming that these are questions about how to find a place and one's passion, I would say that this isn't something you can think your way to.  I believe that the path to one's place and passion is through feelings.  When do you feel most alive?  Where do you feel most yourself?  Where, and to what, do you feel yourself drawn?  More than making a list of pros and cons, tuning in to how you feel is most likely to lead you toward your answers.  And they will be your answers.  No one else can answer these questions for you ... although a lot of people may try.  (I'd also note that attempting to passively "find" you place and your passion is not enough, and might not even have much chance of success.  I think you need to be active in creating your place, and  developing you passion.  Waiting for them to come to you might make it a long wait.)


So ... there are my responses to the first three questions.  I think I'll try to keep responding to about three questions a day.


Pax tecum,

RevWik

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1 comment:

Unknown said...

Erik --
It's been a long time, but I ran into a colleague of yours who knows you and she directed me to your church and thus to this blog!

I was thinking the other day about the Greek word for community -- polis (ok, maybe not an exact equivalent, but hear me out). The story with polis is much like your concluding idea that a community is a place were you can be true. In Greek, truth is a funny word; it's the negative of forgetting or concealedness (think the river Lethe)-- alethea, or unconcealedness. Polis is the pole, the place around which everything appearing as being turns in truth. The polis is the essence of the place out of which being arises and so the connect between being human and being part of a community is primordial. Community is not just a nice thing, it is a necessity. Heidegger says that "the polis is the abode, gathered into itself of the truth of beings."

I try to remind myself of the high intentions of the root of the word politics when it gets so ugly. And to encourage myself in my calling to be a "politician" in the pulpit, at least in the above sense.

Well, my friend, it is good to be a part of your polis, even across the many miles and the years since Yarmouth.

I'll check back in from time to time, and even, likely, "borrow" an idea for a sermon or two.

Pax tecum to you too!

Peter Plagge