Samuel and Agag as a Window on the Present Transition

This week I have been considering how the Israelites made the transition from the Forty Wilderness Years to entering Canaan by renewing the Covenant of Circumcision and celebrating Passover at Gilgal. This is reported in Joshua 5:9-12, the Lectionary reading from the Hebrew Scriptures for this coming Sunday, March 31, 2019. Gilgal marked a sort of space between two distinct and contrasting epochs in Israel’s journey from slavery in Egypt to flourishing freedom in the Promised Land.

As I considered this against the backdrop of current events in the US, my mind was drawn to another transition in Israel that came at Gilgal recorded in 1 Samuel 15,16 – from the failed reign of Saul, Israel’s first king, to David, whose reign became the harbinger of Messianic hopes. The critical turn was when King Saul’s army defeated the Amalekites. Besides the avarice of keeping for himself and his close companions the best of the spoils of war which were to be totally given over to God, with hubris King Saul preserved the Amalekite King Agag alive that he might gloat over the victory.

Many things about this incident are troubling, and I will not attempt to sort them out so they do not distract from how my ponderings have taken me to the present transition time in US politics. The Mueller investigation has concluded and the report has been delivered. The Barr letter conveyed a conclusion in a few words with no details of the lengthy report. A redacted version of the report has been promised to Congress within a couple of weeks. What may or may not become public, either by release or leak is unknown. In this transition a myriad of speculations and responses from every possible point on the political spectrum is running rampant. Regardless of what is released and to whom, the Mueller Report is a sort of Gilgal, a place of transition, not just for the current administration, and not just for imminent political implications, but for the country. Like the Israelites at Gilgal, the US is on the brink of unexplored territory. Whether the path ahead is more like King Saul or King David (who had his own issues) remains to be seen.

In my contemplation, Agag seemed perhaps an apt metaphor for the assorted responses and expectations of many folk in our current transition, and perhaps a cautionary tale for all who think they have figured out either the dreaded or hoped for outcome. I think 1 Samuel 15:32-33 (NIV) articulates this powerfully. “Then Samuel said, ‘Bring me Agag king of the Amalekites.’ Agag came to him in chains. And he thought, ‘Surely the bitterness of death is past.’ … And Samuel put Agag to death before the Lord at Gilgal.” [Some other translations, including the NRSV, heighten the drama by saying that Agag came “haltingly” and Samuel “hewed Agag in pieces.” Definitely a cringe worthy scene in any case.]

The point of my meditations, and of writing this essay, is not to make a political statement, though it is probably inescapable in these times. Rather, I am seeking to discern how to faithfully follow Jesus in this specific time of transition with all of its perils. The Lectionary Epistle reading for Sunday from 1 Corinthians 6:16-21 speaks of our participation in God reconciling with the world through Christ. The Gospel reading is Jesus’ perhaps overly familiar parable we call The Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11-32.  In that parable, Jesus dramatized with masterful storytelling just how radical that reconciliation is. Luke 15:1-3 makes clear that Jesus told this because he was being criticized by the religious folk for welcoming sinners and even eating with them. So putting this up against both Gilgal stories, I am challenged to follow Jesus in reconciling relationships with and between people who fear and even despise each other in this time of transition and perilous uncertainty. I am brought back to my regular praying of the Prayer of St. Francis asking how I can be an instrument of God’s peace when division and hostility seems to prevail.

Any Worse Sinners?

In Luke 13:1-5 (from the Gospel reading from the Lectionary for next Sunday, March 24, 2019), Jesus seems to say that when tragedy comes either by evil violence or random accident, we should not speculate about what may or may not have brought this on those victims; instead, we should focus on our own self-examination and need for repentance.

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

My observation is that when we consider the victims of tragedies to be “like us,” we are more apt to be empathetic than when we consider them to be different that we are in some way: geographically, nationally, culturally, linguistically, ethnically, religiously. If we are to take Jesus seriously, we must guard against insulating ourselves from the call to examen and penance when tragedies strike those with whom we do not easily identify.

Over the years I have frequently been acutely aware how the Lectionary readings and my monthly prayer journey through the Psalms speak loudly to current events and my personal concerns. If I were preaching next Sunday, which I am not, I would be compelled to connect the shooting in New Zealand with this text. I would be compelled to affirm that being humans made in the image of God and loved by God overrides our religious and cultural differences. That is not to say that faith and theology don’t matter, only that if we use that to distance ourselves from these victims, we not only miss but pervert the lesson Jesus clearly said we need to learn from human tragedies. I would have to ask, “Do you think that the 50 who were gunned down in New Zealand were any worse sinners than any of us? No, but unless you repent, you will perish as they did.”