Two blog postings that Friends and friends here may find worthy of consideration:
A Place to Stand
EarthWitness Journal
October 10, 2006
October 08, 2006
Who Was That Marked Multitude Again?
The other thing about marks on one's forehead--They are not just a "Get out of Hell free" card; this is a matter of "Which side are you on?" as we will see when we get to those other marks in a later passage.
God is not a contender in some traditional human "Who's the King here?" contest. But ancient Middle-Easterners are familiar with that sort of event; they expect it to be serious and nasty; they know that Bad Decisions in picking the rightful side can be life-threatening.
On another hand... Consider the line-up: in this corner, high overhead on His throne overlooking the North Celestial Pole, surrounded by worshipful angels and creatures made of stars, is the Creator of the Universe. VS? A bunch of "inhabitants of the earth," worshiping Caesar and other false gods. Is this a fair contest? Why is it a contest at all?
Is God pulling his punches? Uprooting stars, peeling back the sky, throwing down plagues and flaming awful bloody objects like on a very bad day... The survivors nip out of town, hide under rocks, do absolutely everything but say "Uncle!" Man, we're tough! Bright?--no, but commendably stubborn.
At face value, this doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Why doesn't everyone just ask: "Who did you say we should call our Personal Savior, again?" There must be hidden subtleties involved.
The ones with the marks, who are not getting thumped, are those who "have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. Like the ancient Israelites who just marked their faces with lamb's blood, okay, but these are before the Thone worshipping God day and night, being sheltered and guided. The washing is "an ongoing action," according to my commentary.
What does this mean? The answer that makes sense to me was suggested by a yoga book I've been reading, by Erich Schiffmann (where I also think his description of meditation is closer to the core of what Quaker worship is supposed to be than I generally hear from Quakers--but then he isn't talking about a group process at all...) His view of divine guidance is that it's available to everybody. Most people don't follow it because they're too fixated on the physical, social, intellectual cues they think should be their basis for decisions. A few people think they're following it, but are really at the mercy of their own compulsive thinking and unexamined feelings. But it is possible to be led and taught by God, as our founders insisted, and it doesn't require a committee so much as openness, trust, and practice. (If the message keeps coming out "Bomb Iraq!" there are probably personal quirks corrupting the process.)
So what gets that countless multitude out of harm's way, in this story, is not being martyred, not performing some extraordinary service or finding some theological magic that entitles them to be led by God--It's simply being led by God. If you ask for help in small things, and pay attention to what you're given, Schiffmann says, you get more accustomed to living this way, and it gets better. (I can't claim to have practiced this enough, but I know it's true.)
God is not a contender in some traditional human "Who's the King here?" contest. But ancient Middle-Easterners are familiar with that sort of event; they expect it to be serious and nasty; they know that Bad Decisions in picking the rightful side can be life-threatening.
On another hand... Consider the line-up: in this corner, high overhead on His throne overlooking the North Celestial Pole, surrounded by worshipful angels and creatures made of stars, is the Creator of the Universe. VS? A bunch of "inhabitants of the earth," worshiping Caesar and other false gods. Is this a fair contest? Why is it a contest at all?
Is God pulling his punches? Uprooting stars, peeling back the sky, throwing down plagues and flaming awful bloody objects like on a very bad day... The survivors nip out of town, hide under rocks, do absolutely everything but say "Uncle!" Man, we're tough! Bright?--no, but commendably stubborn.
At face value, this doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Why doesn't everyone just ask: "Who did you say we should call our Personal Savior, again?" There must be hidden subtleties involved.
The ones with the marks, who are not getting thumped, are those who "have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. Like the ancient Israelites who just marked their faces with lamb's blood, okay, but these are before the Thone worshipping God day and night, being sheltered and guided. The washing is "an ongoing action," according to my commentary.
What does this mean? The answer that makes sense to me was suggested by a yoga book I've been reading, by Erich Schiffmann (where I also think his description of meditation is closer to the core of what Quaker worship is supposed to be than I generally hear from Quakers--but then he isn't talking about a group process at all...) His view of divine guidance is that it's available to everybody. Most people don't follow it because they're too fixated on the physical, social, intellectual cues they think should be their basis for decisions. A few people think they're following it, but are really at the mercy of their own compulsive thinking and unexamined feelings. But it is possible to be led and taught by God, as our founders insisted, and it doesn't require a committee so much as openness, trust, and practice. (If the message keeps coming out "Bomb Iraq!" there are probably personal quirks corrupting the process.)
So what gets that countless multitude out of harm's way, in this story, is not being martyred, not performing some extraordinary service or finding some theological magic that entitles them to be led by God--It's simply being led by God. If you ask for help in small things, and pay attention to what you're given, Schiffmann says, you get more accustomed to living this way, and it gets better. (I can't claim to have practiced this enough, but I know it's true.)
October 07, 2006
quaker worship in heaven/david
Forrest has been talking about Revelation being a riff on monarchal models of government. In effect -- this is all about how God is the true king -- but also -- how the kingship of God is so radically different from any early kingship it deconstructs the very institution. I'm hoping Forrest will be feel free to explore this further.
My take is that Revelation is a Christian liturgy set in heaven. This is not exclusive to other interpretations. The activities of a royal courtroom with its pomp and circumstance is also a liturgy of sorts and the two social practices -- worship of God and honouring of the king -- mimic one another.
So -- from a regal standpoint we see praises of the king echoing his coronation. We see a worthy reader brought forth to read the royal edicts of the seven times sealed scroll, and we see the armies of the king finals sent forth to exact the royal imperative. And now, with the breaking of the last seal, we see this dramatic pause before the contents are actually read.
As liturgy, we begin with hymns of praise - the Trisagion -- hymn of three holies dominates. We then move into prayers of the people and prepare for the reading of the sacred prophecies. It is at this point there is silence in heaven for the space of about a half hour.
I rose and read this passage at Yearly Meeting once. I then closed the bible and said, so when we gather in worship, our worship is joined with the worship of heaven.
A number of people came to me following worship to talk to me. Two wanted the chapter references to look up -- they didn't recall this passage. One was just surprised the Book of Revelation should be read aloud in a Quaker Meeting (the original Friends practically lived and breathed this stuff, btw). And another simply had not imagined interpreting the passage as Friends' manner of worship.
Of course the logical implication of all this is that worship in heaven is semi-programmed -- high liturgy of the Easter Orthodox style with a half hour of open waiting worship plunked down just before the scripture reading.
My take is that Revelation is a Christian liturgy set in heaven. This is not exclusive to other interpretations. The activities of a royal courtroom with its pomp and circumstance is also a liturgy of sorts and the two social practices -- worship of God and honouring of the king -- mimic one another.
So -- from a regal standpoint we see praises of the king echoing his coronation. We see a worthy reader brought forth to read the royal edicts of the seven times sealed scroll, and we see the armies of the king finals sent forth to exact the royal imperative. And now, with the breaking of the last seal, we see this dramatic pause before the contents are actually read.
As liturgy, we begin with hymns of praise - the Trisagion -- hymn of three holies dominates. We then move into prayers of the people and prepare for the reading of the sacred prophecies. It is at this point there is silence in heaven for the space of about a half hour.
I rose and read this passage at Yearly Meeting once. I then closed the bible and said, so when we gather in worship, our worship is joined with the worship of heaven.
A number of people came to me following worship to talk to me. Two wanted the chapter references to look up -- they didn't recall this passage. One was just surprised the Book of Revelation should be read aloud in a Quaker Meeting (the original Friends practically lived and breathed this stuff, btw). And another simply had not imagined interpreting the passage as Friends' manner of worship.
Of course the logical implication of all this is that worship in heaven is semi-programmed -- high liturgy of the Easter Orthodox style with a half hour of open waiting worship plunked down just before the scripture reading.
Revelation 8:1-5
When the Lamb opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them. Another angel with a golden censer came and stood at the altar; he was given a great quantity of incense to offer with the prayers of all the saints on the golden altar that is before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, rose before God from the hand of the angel. Then the angel took the censer and filled it with fire from the altar and threw it on the earth; and there were peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning, and an earthquake.
October 06, 2006
entering into the rest/david
These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
This is a promise made to those who endure. The sufferings the work the persecution oppression all the insanities of this lifetime will fade away. Those who suffered will find rest. Those marginalized will find acceptance. Those oppressed by unjust systems will finally be led by the Good Shepherd. No more hunger, thirst, homelessness or want. No more weeping. And they shall drink from the waters of life.
Sounds pastoral. Sounds sweet. Sounds like an account of sheep herding written by a city boy.
This is one image we have of Paradise. The stereotyped one of sitting on clouds playing harps -- I don't know where that one comes from. But the sheep and the Good Shepherd. That's this one here.
The other powerful image of Paradise we get in scripture is one of rulership. Not where God rules alone from his throne and we obey submissively, but one where we get enthroned beside the great Ha'Shem, where we become co-inheritors with Christ Jesus, where we judge the angels, the powers and principalities. Where we reign with the Almighty.
Two very different images. Two very different implications for spirituality and for echatalogical hope. Two very different accounts of what it means to be saved.
But with common ground. Both are prophetic reversals of the (then) current established order. Common to both are the guys currently running the show get dethroned and the agendas set are set to favour the folks currently on the bottom of the heap.
Liberation theology calls this preferential option for the poor. Why don't these images make God-fearing, tithing folks with 100-G luxury cars and chunky pinky rings feel a tad uncomfortable. How can such folks really believe they are oppressed. How can a biblical literalist read Revelation and not feel uncomfortable about their timeshare in Maui?
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