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Donate| September 15 , 2002 Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Proper 19 Commentary by Russell Pregeant |
See also: [2008] [2005] |
Exodus 14:19-31
Exodus 15:1b-11, 20-21
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35
Freedom lies at the very heart of process thought. God lures the world process to develop creatures with increasingly greater degrees of freedom, in order to give rise to greater intensity of experience. Whatever enhances freedom therefore enhances the possibility of significant experience, and this is as true on the socio-political level as it is on the cosmic level. Process theology thus has a natural affinity with the various theologies of liberation. It also has an affinity with genuinely participatory democracy and should insist that it be extended from the realm of procedural rights to the entire range of human experience—the economy, the family, organizations (including religious bodies!), and human relationships generally. As an archetypal story of human liberation, Exodus 14:19-31is in many respects an important text for interpretation from a process perspective.
The enjoyment of experience is also central to process thought, and the songs of Moses and Miriam are classic texts not only of liberation but of celebration. Of course what they celebrate is not experience per se, or God’s presence in all moments of life, but God’s action in human history on behalf of a specific people known in a covenant relationship. This important difference, however, need not result in a dichotomy of history and nature; rather, process and biblical modes of understanding can mutually enrich one another when the two are held together. Liberation on a grand, socio-political scale is enhanced rather than diminished when it is seen as a dramatic instance of a divine activity at work in all things on all levels. For it is thereby related more closely to ordinary, everyday experience, which means that it can less easily be relegated to a special “religious” segment of life to be called up only for liturgical purposes and then forgotten. Likewise the liberating activity of God in the natural order and less dramatic experiences of life takes on deeper significance when it is seen as an instance of what can on occasion become a monumental turning point in the course of historical events. The text of Exodus 14 itself, in fact, subtly bridges the nature/history dichotomy by presenting the miraculous event at the sea in terms reminiscent of creation itself. God’s parting of the waters of the sea, parallel to the parting of the waters of chaos at creation, encompasses the act of liberation within the broader theme of God’s ongoing creative activity.
The release of the enslaved children of Israel from Egypt cannot of course be reduced to purely secular understandings of freedom, since it is precisely for the worship of God that they are set free. But the exodus motif should stand as a constant reminder that the sacred/secular, religious/political dichotomy characteristic of the modern, western mentality is utterly inappropriate when interpreting ancient texts in general and especially when dealing with the biblical faith. And neither can process thought, which sees all levels of organization in the universe, from sub-atomic entities to planetary community, as located along a continuum of complexity, abide such a false dichotomy. The process insistence upon transcendence militates against a reduction of the tradition to a worldliness without depth, but it works equally against any sort of supernaturalism that sets freedom from sin and death wholly apart from the concrete freedoms sought on the socio-political plane.
As in earlier texts for September, however, the Exodus readings for this Sunday also contain elements with which the interpreter needs to work with critically. And to some extent the New Testament readings stand as counterpoints to precisely those elements. If the Exodus passages can celebrate the destruction of the enemy, the gospel and epistle lessons stress forgiveness and tolerance. We should beware of playing the two testaments of the Bible off against each other as such, however. And in the present instance the passage from Matthew has its own problematic dimension, since at the end of the parable the master’s imprisonment of the unforgiving slave and Jesus’ warning about God’s punishment have the potential to subvert the radical message of forgiveness that prevails up until this point.
There is more to be said in this connection, however. All of the readings for this Sunday are texts that are particularly conducive to reflection on the nature of biblical language and religious language generally, and process thought can add contribute meaningfully to such reflection. The poetic passages most notably invite attention to their rhetorical function, which is clearly to involve the hearer/reader in a celebration of God’s power and victory. So it is fair to say that what appear to our contemporary sensibilities, as negative corollaries to this positive note—celebration of the destruction of the enemy—are less central to the texts than the exultation over God’s act of deliverance itself. Likewise the unforgiving words of the master in the parable and the threat of God’s punishment serve a clearly secondary role—to provide a sanction for the more prominent call to radical forgiveness. And it is in the end God’s protectiveness, not God’s vengeance that is paramount in Exodus 14. The perishing of the Egyptians is secondary to God’s division of the sea and provision of the pillar of cloud on behalf of the people of Israel. These are images of a tangible divine presence that lies at the heart of the narrative’s intention.
It thus becomes very important to treat some elements in the text as highly imaginative or imagistic and not push their literal content too far. And such a move is entirely in keeping with Whitehead’s understanding of language as fragmentary or elliptical, more evocative than literal, and incapable of delineating its objects with exactitude. The other half of the matter, however, is that Whitehead also understood language as having a strong systematic dimension, so that every statement ultimately implies something about the structure of the universe as a whole. So when faced with competing lines of meaning and logic in the biblical witness, it becomes all-important for the interpreter to decide which elements to value for their more systematic implications and which to value more for their imaginative content—and, in extreme cases, which might in fact have to be simply rejected in favor of others. Since preachers cannot merely assume that hearers will automatically de-literalize problematic elements, it becomes important in preaching to find artful ways of ordering the competing elements in a text in order to achieve a message that is theologically sound as well as rhetorically engaging.
The passages from Matthew and Romans deal with concrete matters in the life of the church and so invite sermons with a decidedly practical bent. By some scholarly accounts, the discussion in Romans 12-16 is little more than an addendum to Paul’s powerful theological statement in chapters 1-8. Many recent scholars, however, have argued that the situation in the Roman church was largely determinative of how Paul approached the writing of this letter as a whole. More specifically, it is the concrete issue that surfaces in chapters 14-15 that leads Paul to address the theological issues he does in 1-8 and to outline a salvation-history that stresses God’s continuing covenant with Israel in 9-11. For although it is probably wrong to make a simplistic identification of the “strong” and the “weak” in these chapters as Gentile and Jewish Christian respectively, there are hints that the issue of the continuing role of certain legal observances for Christians is at issue (14:6, 14, 20); and 15:7-13 finally brings the Gentile question to the surface. Some Jewish Christians (witness Paul himself!) probably joined the Gentiles in dispensing with legal requirements, and some Gentiles were likely convinced that such requirements were necessary; but observance of the Jewish law is nevertheless central to the dispute.
In
any case, Paul is addressing the practical issue on the basis of a
theological perspective, and the result is a very heartfelt and
well-thought-out plea for mutual acceptance between groups who differ
sharply regarding some theologically charged matters of practice. The
exact nature of the differences is not entirely clear, although Paul’s
concern certainly overlaps with the issues he addressed in 1 Corinthians 8
and 10. In Romans, however, meals in pagan temples do not figure into the
equation; the issue is only whether those in Christ should observe certain
dietary restrictions and observe certain holy days. Paul’s counsel,
however, is basically the same, although his reasons are not fully
articulated until
It should not go unnoticed, however, that the terms by which Paul designates the opposing groups are far from neutral. He does not shrink from naming those for whom strict observance necessary as “the weak,” nor from granting the others (whose position is parallel to Paul’s own) the status of “the strong.” So while he argues adamantly for mutual acceptance, he is clear also that one group is on sounder theological ground than the other. A faith fully thought through, he believes, will lead to the position of the strong. But this fact serves in one sense to make Paul’s injunction against judging others all the more important. The theological correctness of the strong is ultimately less important than the mutuality believers owe one another in Christ!
This potent call to mutual acceptance of Christians who disagree is certainly a timely word for the contemporary church, caught up in the “culture wars” defined largely (if overly simplistically) in terms of a liberal-conservative dichotomy. A process perspective will naturally lend support not simply to tolerance in such a situation but to creative attempts to find common ground and forge new positions, beyond the dichotomy, that embrace elements of both. Such an attempt, however, must be sharply distinguished from a mere compromise that automatically settles for a moderate middle position. Creative transformation is something else altogether—far more difficult and dangerous, but potentially rewarding. And above it is not a process that obviates the need for critical judgment. A cheap inclusivism that weakens the call to witness on matters central to the gospel is most certainly not in the spirit of Paul.
The
mutual acceptance counseled in the Romans passages dovetails nicely with
the call to forgiveness in Matthew. Forgiveness
is central in process thought, in that God receives all experience in the
world, redeems it, and ever creates new futures. But it should not be
overlooked that process thought also gives a way of honoring the note of
judgment in biblical thought: God receives all for precisely what it is,
negativity and all. And that makes the redemption all the more remarkable!
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