Monthly Archives: December 2020

“On Refusing to Make God’s Violent Language My Own”

I heard a paper presented at the annual Society of Biblical Language that made me profoundly uncomfortable. That does not make it a bad paper. Sometimes a body needs to be profoundly uncomfortable.

The basic thesis of the paper was that the violent language about God’s punishment of Judah in the Book of Jeremiah is profoundly disturbing. Such language can be—has been—used to justify violence in contemporary domestic relationships. This language participates in the very common practice of “victim-blaming.”

I checked out of the paper early. I couldn’t listen anymore. I can only handle so much truth at one time.

Of course, there are other ways of reading Jeremiah’s words. Jeremiah and other parts of the Bible can be read, not as God’s deepest intentions for Judah or the human race. Rather, these violent words can be read as the horrible consequences of our own decisions and behaviors.

Furthermore, I believe that it is always questionable to take the words of God, and use them to justify our own thoughts, words, and actions. God is God, if there is a God at all. We are not God. It might be wise to keep that in mind.

Two more observations might help (a little) with the violent language of God.

  1. The human race is violent. If God is to communicate with us at all, God must use language that we understand. Unfortunately, we are all fluent in the language of violence.
  2. Neither Judah, nor I, nor you, nor anyone are altogether innocent victims. Violence begets violence. Perhaps it isn’t that God’s violence begets ours, but that our violence gives birth to the violence of God.

When I was an atheist, I was violent. Now that I am a believer, I still struggle with violent thoughts and words. Especially on the highway, I struggle with my violent tendencies. The violence with which I need to wrestle is my own violence.

“Compassionate? Then Do Something!”

“Jesus was moved with compassion . . .” (Matthew 9:36, 14:14; and elsewhere)

“Having sympathy and compassion for all who are in temptation, a condition which we are sometimes in, we have a responsibility towards them. Sympathy always includes responsibility. Pity is useless because it does not have a remedy for the need. But wherever our sympathy goes, our responsibility goes too. When we are moved with compassion, we should go to the one in need and bind up his wounds as best we can.” (From Twenty-Four Hours a Day © 1975 by Hazelden Foundation.)

My brother used to say, “I feel for you, but I can’t reach you.” But a pity, or sympathy, or compassion, or empathy that doesn’t do something, doesn’t amount to anything. Whether you make a distinction between pity, sympathy, compassion, and empathy, what really makes the difference is acting. Love not only reaches; love reaches out.

God felt for his people who were slaves in Egypt. I’m sure of that. But God didn’t stop with his feelings. He did something: He freed them from slavery. Moses was God’s hand reaching out to God’s people.

Jesus felt compassion, but he didn’t stop there. He healed, he taught, he cast out demons, he fed the hungry. Jesus reached and he reached out.

Do I feel badly about racism in our society and in my heart? Then I need to do something about it! Am I grieved by sexism, Covid-19, hunger, war? That’s nice. Now, I need to do something about it!

What can I do today to embody my compassion for others? That is the question. My answer is either action, or my answer means nothing.

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