Daughters of Shiloh: In Your Own Eyes

 Judges 21:15-25

And we danced
in the sunshine
not a care in the world
and we sang
our God's praise
without trouble or fear
free
like our mothers
who left Egypt by His hand
free
in the shelter
of His justice and love.

But now
I am loot
to be carried away.
I am your quarry
to be hunted down.
I am prey to be caught,
a prize to be captured,
I am flesh to be used.

Oh you pious men
keeping your vows before God,
oh you righteous men
looking out for your brothers,
oh you faithful men -
you do what is right,
what is right in your own eyes -
but is it right in God's?

In God's,
whose will is shelter
in justice and love?
In God's,
who led our mothers
out of Egypt by His hand?
Would this Saviour of Slaves
have us treated like loot,
like quarry, like prey,
a prize to be captured,
flesh to be used?

You do what is right
in your own eyes
and think yourselves pious
and righteous and good
free
like your fathers
led from Egypt by His hand
but as long as your daughters
remain so enslaved,
as long as your actions
are not justice and love
your hearts will be stuck
in Egypt's land
and you'll still be slaves to sin.

Turn around, then.
Turn around and dance with me.
Dance with me
in the love of the God
who created us as equals.
Turn around to the King
whose commandment is love.
Turn around and let justice reign.
Then you and I can all be free
dancing in praise of the Saviour of Slaves,
not a care in the world,
without trouble or fear
doing right in the eyes
of God our king.

____________________________

[16. October 2022]

This story is so horrible (and this is just one part of the horror, the beginning of Judges 21 is about genocide as well as rape). At the end of the book of Judges, Israel is a mess. They just decimated the tribe of Benjamin as revenge for what happened with the Levite's concubine (awful, awful story of gang rape - the Bible really is not silent about the horrors of the human race). Anyway after the massacre the other tribes feel sorry and want to prevent the entire tribe of Benjamin dying out. However, they have vowed not to give any of their daughters as wives to the men of Benjamin. What follows is a lot of unnecessary pain and violence all to keep that vow while still helping the Benjaminites come to women.

The "daughters of Shiloh" are girls participating in a religious festival, the Israelites set up a kidnapping so that they won't have "given" the girls freely.

Like a refrain in the book of Judges, and again at the very end (Judges 21:25) is the sentence: they did what was right in their own eyes. Judges is about things going wrong. When we read about genocides and murder and gang rape and here the kidnapping and rape of hundreds of young women, it's nothing "condoned" by God. It's people making a big hash of things after having been shown by God how society can actually be different (law given on Sinai). And the tragic thing is, so often we human beings are capable of thinking we're on the right path while actually doing horrible things that are opposed to the will of God. These guys thought they were being good people doing their best to keep a vow, helping out their countrymen, etc.

Which is why I think we need to keep in connection with God, and always be open to repent and turn around. So many things were thought to be okay for the longest time, even by Christians (slavery, racism, subjugation of women). Change is hard but true salvation is not just a change of what we believe or a spiritual thing, but a change in how we live our lives and how our societies work. That's why the giving of the law,at Sinai was an important step on the way out of Egypt: Okay, you're not slaves anymore - here's how to live so you won't be slaves again! True freedom is not in having no one tell us what to do (doing what is right in our own eyes) but letting ourselves be guided to a way of living that is best for everybody.

Picture by Franz von Stuck

Kosbi: Durchbohrt

Numeri 25

Ich bin durchbohrt

für mein Vergehen,

durchbohrt von deinem Speer

und deinem heiligen Eifer.

Ich bin dein Sühnopfer,

Menschenblut

zu stillen den Zorn

der gekränkten Gottheit.

Mein Tod bringt zu Ende

Leiden und Plage,

mein Blut hat den Frieden erkauft.

Ich bin durchbohrt

für meine Vergehen,

dein Menschenopfer.

Du hast die Sünderin getötet

um die Sünde zu beenden,

die Schuldige

um vom Fluch zu befreien.

Jetzt trägt deine Gewalt

den Segen des Friedens,

die Zustimmung deines Gottes.

Jetzt trägst du

die grosse Verheissung:

ewiges Priestertum –

für immer so.

Und sie werden wundern und spekulieren

ob Der, Der Da Kommt, von dir kommen wird,

ob Der, Der Da Kommt, wie du sein wird,

ewiger Priester,

vom Eifer entbrannt.

Und sie werden wundern und spekulieren

und suchen nach einem neuen Pinechas

der mit Speer in der Hand

die Welt reinigt von Gottlosigkeit,

von Sünde saubermacht.

Schauen sie dann

auf den, den sie durchbohrt haben,

durchbohrt

für unsere Vergehen?

Denjenigen, nicht mit Speer in der Hand,

sondern vom Speer durchstochen

bis Blut und Wasser fliessen heraus;

denjenigen, dessen Eifer

sich nicht in Gewalt gezeigt,

sondern in Tod und Leid;

dessen Sieg über die Sünde

nicht im Töten gewonnen ist,

sondern durch Liebe,

die sich selbst hingibt?

Werden sie sehen

ihren Gott

durchbohrt

von den Pinechas dieser Welt

und ihrem heiligen Eifer,

ihren Gott,

ein Sünder durchbohrt wegen Blasphemie?

Durchbohrt

für unsere Vergehen,

durchbohrt von unserem Speer

des heiligen Eifers.

Gott, unser Sühneopfer

zu besänftigen den Zorn der Menschheit.

Gott, nicht der Zornige,

sondern Liebe

durchbohrt

durch unseren Hass,

ein Spiegel,

eine träumende Welt zu wecken,

unsere Speere zu brechen

und zu vergeben.

____________________________

Übersetzt von: Cozbi: Pierced

Erklärung (Predigt vom 19.04.19 - sorry, keine Energie sie zu kürzen):

"Durchbohrt aber wurde er unseres Vergehens wegen, unserer Verschuldungen wegen wurde er zerschlagen, auf ihm lag die Strafe, die unserem Frieden diente, und durch seine Wunden haben wir Heilung erfahren." (Jesaja 53,5)

Durchbohrt – das ist auch Kosbi.Kosbi ist eine Midianiterin, wahrscheinlich eine Tempelprostituierte. Die Israeliten sind auf dem Weg zum gelobten Land Midianitern und Moabitern begegnet, und haben angefangen, deren Götter zu verehren. Auch sind einige mit heidnischen Frauen involviert worden – nichts Kleines in einer Kultur, in der der religiöse Glaube durch die Mutter weitergegeben wird. Die Konsequenzen: Gott schickt eine Plage. Tausende sterben.

Pinechas, ein Nachkomme des Hohenpriesters Aaron, Bruder von Mose, greift ein. Er tötet die Tempelprostituierte Kosbi zusammen mit ihrem israelitischen Mann oder Liebhaber. Beide werden durch den Bauch erstochen - in den wenigen künstlerischen Darstellungen dieser Szene wird es darum so interpretiert, dass sie mitten im Akt getötet wurden. Mitten in ihrer Sünde, könnte man sagen. Der Text spricht von Sühne: die Plage lässt ab, Gottes Zorn ist abgewendet. Mit dem vergossenen Blut der beiden Sünder wird alles wieder gut.

Ja... was macht so eine Geschichte mit uns?  So eine blutige Geschichte von Gewalt und Zorn und Strafe... was machen wir damit? Diese Tötung von Kosbi und Simri – das klingt doch wie ein Menschenopfer, als ob Gott das Blut von Menschen gebraucht hat, um beschwichtigt zu werden. Was für ein Gott ist denn das? Und Pinechas, der Henker, wird gelobt für das, was er getan hat. Seine Tat bekommt das "Gütesiegel" Gottes: Gott ist zufrieden mit ihm, er hat es gut gemacht. Pinechas erhält einen Segen und eine Verheissung – eine Verheissung ähnlich wie die, die auch der König David bekommen hat. David wurde eine Verheissung von ewigem Königtum gegeben – hier bekommt Pinechas das ewige Priestertum zugesprochen. Eine sehr hohe Ehre – ein sehr starkes Zeichen der Zustimmung Gottes.

Gottes Versprechen an David ist für uns wichtig, weil daraus die Erwartung eines "Messias" entstanden ist, eines Retters, eines von Gott gesandten Königs, der sein Volk rettet und alles wieder in Ordnung bringt. Darum wird Jesus im Neuen Testament immer wieder "Sohn Davids" genannt. In der Zeit vor Jesus gab es eine starke Tradition, die davon ausging, dass der Retter von David abstammen würde – und entsprechend auch wie David sein würde, oder wie Davids Sohn Salomo: ein mächtiger König, ein weiser König, ein grosser Herrscher. Ein König-Messias.

Was viele aber nicht wissen: es gab zur gleichen Zeit eine starke Tradition, die auch einen "Priester-Messias" erwarteten – entweder die gleiche Person oder eine zweite, die zusammen mit dem König-Messias erscheinen und die Welt zurechtbringen würde. So wie der König-Messias dem Muster Davids folgen würde, würde der Priester-Messias wie der priesterliche Vorfahre sein – und dieser priesterliche Vorfahre, das war Pinechas.

Wenn also die Leute in der Zeit Jesu über den Messias nachdachten, dann stellten sie ihn sich wahrscheinlich nicht selten wie Pinechas vor. Besonders unter der griechischen und römischen Besatzung, die beide fremde Religionen nach Israel hineinschleppten und in den Augen der Gläubigen schlechten Einfluss brachten, hofften bestimmt viele auf so einen heiligen Eifer wie den des Pinechas, auf einen Retter, der zum Speer greifen würde und mit Gewalt die "Gottlosen", die Sünder und Ungläubigen entfernen würde.

Dann kam Jesus. Jesus ist nicht wie Pinechas. Und das Sühneopfer auf Golgatha ist nicht wie das Sühneopfer von Simri und Kosbi. Jesus tötet nicht die Sünder mit heiligem Eifer – sondern heiliger Eifer nagelt ihn am Kreuz. Urteil: Blasphemie, Gotteslästerung. Jesus trägt nicht einen Speer, sondern ist derjenige, der vom Speer durchbohrt wird.

Oft wird von Jesu Tod gesprochen, als wäre das ein Opfer, um Gottes Zorn zu besänftigen – als wäre Jesus ein Blitzableiter, der zwischen uns Menschen und Gott kommt. Ich hatte immer Mühe mit dieser Darstellung – denn in Taiwan, wo ich aufgewachsen bin, kennt man so etwas in der einheimischen Religion auch. Da muss man die Geister und Dämonen mit Opfern besänftigen, so dass sie einen nicht schaden. Ist unser Gott ein Dämon? Nein. Die Bibel sagt: Gott ist die Liebe. Und das Leben von Jesus, Gottes Sohn, beweist uns das. Der Sohn zeigt uns, wie der Vater ist. Gott kann nicht anders sein als sein Sohn Jesus. Wir wissen, dass Gott Liebe ist, weil wir das in Jesus sehen. Gott ist nicht ein zorniger Gott, der besänftigt werden muss. Jesus ist nicht gestorben, um den Zorn Gottes auf sich zu nehmen. Sondern Jesus ist gestorben und hat uns in seinem Tod gezeigt: Gott ist anders. Gott ist nicht der zornige Gott. Gott ist nicht im eifrigen Priester, der den Sünder umbringt – sondern Gott ist in der durchbohrten Frau. Am Kreuz hat Jesus den Platz von Kosbi eingenommen. Am Kreuz wird Jesus, als Krimineller verurteilt, von den Frommen und Eifrigen umgebracht. Gott selbst wird zum Opfer des frommen Eifers.

Ich glaube, der Tod Jesu zeigt uns, dass nicht Gott der Zornige ist, der besänftigt werden muss, sondern wir Menschen. Die Menschen suchen Blut und Rache und gewalttätige Lösungen. Der Tod Jesu zeigt uns, was passiert, wenn heiliger Eifer zu weit geht: dann töten wir plötzlich, ganz ohne es zu merken, Gott selbst. Jesus ist nicht gestorben, um Gottes Zorn zu besänftigen – sondern Menschen haben ihn getötet, um ihre Blutlust zu besänftigen.

Und die Kraft in diesem Tod Jesu ist, dass Gott nicht mit Rache und Gewalt und Strafe reagiert auf diese grösste Sünde von allen: auf den Gottesmord. Gott rächt sich nicht, er sendet keine Engel, um die Mörder zu erschlagen. Gott reagiert mit Vergebung. Wir haben es gehört: "Vater, vergib ihnen, denn sie wissen nicht, was sie tun." Gott reagiert mit Vergebung.

Und von dem Punkt aus können wir uns verändern. Weil Gott uns gezeigt hat, wo Rache und Strafe uns hinführen. Wo heiliger Eifer uns hinführen kann. Gott will nicht den heiligen Eifer, der gegen sogenannte Sünde kämpft. Gott will, dass wir ihm ähnlicher werden: dass wir wie Jesus werden, der am Kreuz hängt und vergibt. Jesus, der wie Pinechas hätte werden sollen, wird wie Kosbi. Gott wird zur durchbohrten Tempelhure, um uns sagen: stopp. So geht das nicht weiter. Am Kreuz hält Gott der Menschheit den Spiegel vor und ruft uns auf, unsere Speere fallenzulassen und zu vergeben. Es musste nie Gott zufriedengestellt und besänftigt werden. Sondern wir Menschen. Jesus ist nicht gestorben, um Gottes Meinung über uns zu ändern, sondern um unsere Meinung über Gott zu ändern. "Lasst euch versöhnen mit Gott!" fasst Paulus die Botschaft vom Kreuz zusammen. Und ich verstehe das so: es ist nicht Gott, der sich mit uns versöhnen muss, Gott hatte nie mit uns Streit, er hat uns nie abgelehnt oder gehasst. Sondern die Trennung kommt von uns aus. Da, wo wir der Liebe den Rücken kehren, wo wir hassen, streiten, rächen, nicht vergeben. Das Problem ist nicht der zornige Gott, sondern die zornige Menschheit.

Aber am Kreuz gibt uns Gott die Kraft, einen neuen Weg zu finden. Am Kreuz hält uns Gott den Spiegel vor, aber er gibt uns auch ein Beispiel, wie es anders geht. "Vater, vergib ihnen." Verzicht auf Rache. Verzicht darauf, die zu bestrafen, die es verdient hätten. Verzicht darauf, den Feinden eins auszuwischen. Verzicht auf die eigene Macht – auf die Allmacht. "Vater, vergib ihnen."

Am Kreuz wird nicht Jesus bestraft für all unsere Sünden – sondern am Kreuz ist das Ende aller Strafe und aller Rache. Am Kreuz sagt Gott: "Nein. Stopp. So nicht. So bin ich nicht." Am Kreuz gibt uns Gott eine neue Möglichkeit, Geschichten wie die von Kosbi anders zu lesen. Gott steht nicht auf der Seite des frommen Eifers, der Sünde verdammt und aufs härteste bestraft. Sondern Gott ist bereit, den Platz der Sünder einzunehmen, mit ihnen und für sie zu leiden.

Womb of God

In the beginning
was YES.
The Yes of a Mother
to new life inside her,
the Yes of Love
and potential.

In the beginning
was Your Womb,
and I was nurtured,
enveloped by Your love.

In the beginning
was the life you gave me.

Thrust out into the world,
I stumbled,
helpless.
Cut was the cord
and I foundered,
reaching for You.

I lost sight of You.
I forgot
the warm walls of love
that once surrounded me.
I doubted
your unconditional Yes to me.
I feared sternness;
I ran away,
seeing my shame,
separated, I believed, from You.

But in the end
is Your YES,
a Yes that will never be taken back,
a Mother's enduring, unconditional love,
Your mark on me
that I belong.
In the end
there is no chasm
between You
and me.
Only Your arms
waiting
to hold me,
to put me to your breast
and nurse me to strength,
to lead me as I find my feet
and make baby steps
into a world
that you prepared for me.

There is no rejection,
no condemnation,
no separation.
Teach me to see.

__________________________________________________

[28. April 2018]

So I have been itching to write about God as Mother (a perfectly biblical image btw; if in doubt see here). And about God's uterus because according to the Bible God has a uterus. :-P (John 1:18 bosom = κόλπος = womb) Finally managed...

What flowed into this was thoughts on "original blessing" from this podcast I listened the other day, and the book I am reading ("Original Blessing" by Danielle Shroyer). The idea is that the concept of original sin distorts our view of relationship with God. We see it in terms of separation, and basically make our sin more powerful than God by seeing it as an insurmountable obstacle that even God can't overcome without sacrifice. The idea of sin separating us from God did a lot of havoc in my mind as a child and teenager (because it's in every summary of the gospel / evangelistic presentation). Even with the sacrifice of Jesus, you keep asking yourself: am I really good enough for God? Because at the basis of everything lies God's distaste with sin, and original sin means we are all born sinful (or "totally depraved" depending on which theological corner you're in) and need to be made good enough first. Of course I repeated the "sinner's prayer" a few million times, but I was never confident that it had really "worked", because shouldn't a sign of being "born again" be that I don't sin anymore? But I was still fighting with my sister and doing things I regretted later (and sometimes my "Christian zeal" made me a bigger bitch [sorry not sorry] than I would have been without).


Original blessing is what I have discovered in my baptismal practice (as a pastor): in the beginning, before we are able to respond or understand, God's love is already there. Meaning: the basis is not God's distaste with sin, is not our depravity or evil which needs to be put away first, but pure love. I love baptising children / babies because I believe this is such an important message, in this day and age where young people / teenagers are often insecure about their own value. The message of original blessing is that before everything else stands God's love. That's my understanding of it, at least. :-)

Of course God does not agree with evil - because God loves everybody so if I hurt someone else I'm hurting God, right? But even there: God does not want to destroy the "sinner" or wrongdoer but bring them home.

I recently read the "Revelations of Divine Love" of Julian of Norwich. And what really intrigued me was this concept of sin: that the biggest problem is not the wrong deed itself, but running from God because we are afraid of his reaction to our sin. The solution to sin would be running to God who can comfort and heal and forgive - but too often because we think God is stern and punishing, we flee. For a long time I saw God as angry and punishing and was afraid of making mistakes. It was very freeing to realise that God really and truly is love.

And for that I think the image of womb and birth and mother is fitting. As it says in Jeremiah: "Can a mother forget her child?" God never rejects us. He wants to bring everyone home.

Here's if you want something meditative: [click me!]

Cozbi: Pierced

Numbers 25

I am pierced
for my transgressions,
pierced by your spear
and your holy zeal.
I am your atonement sacrifice,
human blood to quell the wrath
of the angry deity.
My death buys an end
to suffering and plague,
my sinner's sinful death
in forbidden embrace,
in the midst of the act
that brought this disgrace.

I am pierced
for my transgressions,
your human sacrifice.
You have killed the sinner
to end the sin,
killed the guilty
to free from the curse.
Now your violence
bears the blessing of peace,
the seal of approval
from your god.
Now your line
is a line of promise:
eternal priesthood -
forever like this.

And they will wonder and speculate
that He Who Will Come will come from you,
that He Who Will Come will be like you,
eternal priest,
burning with zeal.
And they will wonder and speculate
and look for another Phinehas
who takes the spear
and with one good thrust
rids the world of godlessness,
cleans the world from sin at last.

Will they then look
upon the one they pierced,
pierced
for our transgressions?
The one who did not wield the spear
but had it thrust into his side
till blood and water came spilling out;
the one whose zeal
was not spelled out in violence
but in death and suffering;
the one whose victory over sin
was not won by killing sinners
but by self-sacrificing love?

Will they see
their God
pierced
at the hands of the Phinehas' of this world,
at the hands of holy zeal,
their God,
a sinner pierced for blasphemy?

Pierced
for our transgressions,
pierced by our spear
of holy zeal.
God, our atonement sacrifice
to appease an angry humanity.
God, not an angry deity,
but love
pierced
by our hate,
a mirror to wake
a dreaming world,
break our spears
and forgive.

___________________________________________________

[18. July 2017]

Cozbi was a Midianite woman, likely a temple prostitute. Israel on the way through the desert encountered Moabites and Midianites and started worshipping their god/s (Baal Peor) and getting involved with their women (a big deal in a culture where religion is passed on through the mother). As a consequence, there was a plague, from which many people died.
Phinehas, a descendant of the high priest Aaron, killed Cozbi together with her Israelite husband / lover (apparently "in the act" so they were both pierced through - as in the picture above). The text describes this as "atonement". The plague ends after this.

It's a somewhat weird story - and not a very comfortable one, in my opinion. The killing of Cozbi and the man, Zimri, is like a "human sacrifice" appeasing God. Phinehas is lauded for what he did, his action receives a godly "stamp of approval", he receives blessing and promise, in fact a very similar promise to what David received. David was given a promise of "eternal kingship", Phinehas one of "eternal priesthood" (v.13).

While researching my Master thesis about the genealogy of Jesus, I came across all sorts of interesting Messiah theories from the centuries before Jesus. There was a strong tradition expecting the Messiah to come from the line of David, be another David or Solomon, a "King-Messiah". Another tradition believed in a Messiah from the line of Levi, a "Priest-Messiah" (either the same person or a second Messiah in addition to the Davidic one). Because of the promise to Phinehas in Numbers 25, there was a line of thought that expected a "Priest-Messiah" in the pattern of Phinehas. In general, Messiah expectations were not very unlike Phinehas. Especially during the time Israel was under the Greeks (and later the Romans), with foreign religions encroaching, there was a tendency to hope for a powerful "military" Messiah who would with force remove the "godless", non-believers, sinners etc.

So I find it very interesting that Jesus is very different from Phinehas - and Jesus' "atonement sacrifice" is very different from this "sacrifice" of Cozbi and Zimri. Jesus does not kill sinners with "holy zeal" - instead He actually ends up killed by the "holy zeal" of the religious leaders who name Him a blasphemer. Jesus is the one who ends up pierced with a spear (reference to John 19). I believe the concept of "penal substitution atonement" is wrong: God is not an angry god to be appeased. In Taiwan where I grew up, the ones needing appeasing were the ghosts and demons - and my God is not a demon. Jesus' death, the way I understand it when I read the Bible, is not to "appease God" because Jesus is God, as part of the trinity. Jesus is God showing us that God is different, that God is not an angry god needing appeasement. In fact Jesus' death shows us that it is us human beings who are looking for blood and violent solutions. I believe Jesus' death shows us the dangers of "holy zeal" going so far as to kill God Himself. Jesus did not die to appease God - we killed Him to appease our own lust for violent solutions. And the power in Jesus' death is that God does not react with revenge and punishment to the greatest sin of all (the murder of God), but with forgiveness - and that is the point from which we can change, from which we can forgive and reconcile and become more like Him.

Read Numbers how you will - I choose to read it through the lens of the Gospels, through the story of Jesus. I don't want to "sanctify" Cozbi here; we really don't know enough of her story. But what I did realise last time I read this story was that we have someone pierced by a spear here - and we have someone pierced by a spear in the Gospels. And it was expected that the Messiah would be the one wielding the spear and piercing sinners - like Phinehas. But what really happened was that the Messiah took the position of Cozbi and Zimri, the "sinners", and let Himself be pierced. And that made me think and I hope it makes you think too. :-) I find such things very fascinating to think about.

Quick word about my "hermeneutic" here: I believe the Bible is given to us by God and is inspired, that it is full of wonderful and important things to learn. At the same time, I believe that God chose to reveal Himself and all these truths through human beings who were tied to their own time and culture. This does not mean we shouldn't take the Bible seriously, or that we can't ever hope to understand the Bible. My answer to this issue is to on the one hand try to understand the original culture at least a little bit - I read into background culture things a lot while doing this challenge, because especially women's issues in the Bible are very hard to understand without some idea of the patriarchal culture the Bible was written in - on the other hand, to have a place to read the Bible from. For me, that is Jesus and the Gospels - I read the whole Bible through that lens. Which means that if something - like this story of Cozbi and Phinehas - does not fit with the idea of God given to us by Jesus, then I don't throw it out the window but ask myself what God shows me through this difference. Which is what I did in this poem... If we read this without Jesus, we could conclude that religious violence is okay - and it has been read like this in the past, to horrid effect. I believe we need to read the Bible through the lens of Jesus, if we want to understand it properly.

(Feel free to ask and challenge me on this bit. This has been my hermeneutic for the past few years. It has meant taking seriously the fact that there are problematic texts in the Bible, that there are texts that have been used in a very problematic way in the past, while at the same time loving and respecting the Bible as given to us by God.)

Maacah Mother of Tamar: Mother Lioness

2 Samuel 13

Tear my clothes,
throw ash upon my head.
Today my daughter is dead.

Why do we bear daughters
only to watch them be consumed
by the fires of the lust of a man
eating them alive?
Today my daughter is dead,
alive but dead,
an empty shell,
a rejected husk,
a ghost condemned
for another's lust.
Why do we bear daughters
only to watch them be destroyed
by a world that blames the helpless
and lets evil win the day?

They say a snake corrupted Eve -
today, it speaks to Adam
for it lives between his legs.
Why do we bear daughters
only to watch them be devoured
by merciless greed,
then cast away shamed,
a broken reed?

I want to tear him apart,
I want to rip his throat,
I want to bite off his manhood,
show no mercy to this merciless brute
who had no mercy for her.
Why do we bear daughters
only to watch them be regarded as objects,
playthings to be used and cast aside?
Why do we bear sons
if this is what they become?

I want to devour him
and leave nothing left,
I want him destroyed
the way he destroyed her.
I want to wail to the skies
forty days and forty nights,
tear my clothes,
throw ashes on my head
for today my daughter is dead.

Why did you create us
only to watch us like this,
tearing at each other
like wild beasts?
O God, like me you bore children
and you watched them fall apart.
Does your Mother-heart
break like mine?
O God, do you mourn
every day and every night
for your degenerate children
who wander as though dead?
O God, do you long, like me,
to go out in fury
like a mother lioness,
tearing evil limb from limb?

Or do you, like me,
tear your clothes,
throw ash upon your head,
and mourn your broken children,
alive but dead?

_______________________________________________________

[10. June 2017]

Thought I'd write from the point of view of Maacah, mother of Tamar. Tamar, daughter of David, was raped by her half-brother Amnon. With "alive but dead" I try to refer to how in a shame culture, being shamed in this way (by rape) can make a woman completely lose her worth in society. Tamar would have been made unmarriagable, all her chances for a future destroyed. To society, she was as good as dead.

Victims of rape generally reap more consequences than the perpetrators. Perpetrators get away; punishments are all too often not at all proportionate to the crime. A raped woman is innocent of what happened, but all too often is treated like a sinner. She suffers because of the sin of another.

When the Bible talks about justice and punishment and judgement, I believe it talks about things like this... about God standing in for the suffering and abused.

I decided to play with female imagery of God again here... not everyone's cup of tea, but it is a fact that God as God is "genderless", i.e. definitely not male, and that the Bible uses a lot of feminine imagery for God. I think the mother lioness fits to God... mother animals can be extremely ferocious when their children are attacked. While I am certain that God loves both perpetrators and victims, and salvation is about restoration and healing for both, I also believe (also from some of the pretty gory imagery that we read e.g. in the prophets) that God can be as ferocious as a worried mother animal when it comes to defending those who are wronged. The hard part is that we are all His children (tried to touch on that a bit in the last two stanzas which talk about all the children, not just the daughters), perpetrators and victims alike. God wants all to be saved; at the same time He does not stand for injustice. God's mourning over us must be all the greater, then... a combination of Maacah here, and Ahinoam, Amnon's mother.

Other poems about Tamar and Amnon here.

Wise Woman of Tekoa: Justice and Mercy

2. Samuel 14:1-24

Justice must be served,
the guilty must be punished;
justice must prevail
through the hand of the King.
As a just ruler
you must deal out judgement,
appeasing the masses
that clamour for blood.
Wrongs can't be ignored,
evil can't be covered -
the guilty must be punished,
justice must be served.

But, Lord,
I am a Mother,
and you, Lord, are a Father.
Does not your father's heart
throb in you like mine?

Justice must be served
on my son who killed his brother;
the thirsty masses cry for blood.
I can't ignore his wrongs
that tear my heart asunder -
but vengeance will not heal me,
retribution won't atone my loss.
I have lost one son -
would you have me lose another?
Justice must be served,
but is this truly justice?

For, Lord,
I am a Mother,
and you, Lord, are a Father.
Does not your father's heart
throb in you like mine?

Justice must be served
on your son who killed his brother.
As a just ruler
you must deal out judgement.
But Lord,
you are a Father
and he is your son.
Close the eyes of the ruler,
look with the eyes of a Father,
and tell me what you see.
Put aside the ruler's iron mind
and listen to your father's heart.
See your child
and find mercy.

Evil can't be covered,
but mercy covers all.
Wrongs can't be ignored,
but a Parent's heart sees
the broken child beneath the sin.
Open your arms,
give in to your longing,
invite your child home
to the embrace where he belongs.
Let love restore
that which was broken;
let the tears of mercy
wash away the pain -

For justice is not retribution;
wrongs can't be healed by revenge -
justice is mercy and restoration,
justice is a parent's love,
justice is God
sparing His weak children,
granting us life again and again.
Justice is a Mother's embrace,
a Father's grace.

________________________________________________

[15. May 2017]

So: King David's eldest son Amnon raped his half-sister Thamar. Thamar's brother Absalom, seeing David do nothing, took justice into his own hands and murdered Amnon. David reacted by banishing Absalom. The wise woman of Tekoa comes in as an attempt of David's general Joab to convince David to end the banishment and let Absalom return.

I really like this story. It shows the complexity of justice and mercy and a parent's love - and it made me think about God's mercy and what that means.

The wise woman of Tekoa basically told a story similar to David's: the case of one of her sons killing his brother, and the people demanding punishment. The way she told the story she nudged David into saying the murderer should be spared for the mother's sake - because otherwise she would lose both sons. That way she could "twist" David into realising that the right decision for him would be to call Absalom back. That's how Bible wisdom works, apparently. ;-) (Nathan used the same method to bring David to indict himself on the Bathsheba incident...)

What the wise woman of Tekoa showed David was: he should look at the matter not as a ruler, but as a father. She showed him it was all right to give in to his love for his son - that it was not any less "just", but more so, than punishing him.

How do we imagine God looking at us and "judging" us? As a ruler? Or as a Father? A ruler or judge looks at the law and how well we followed it. He is completely neutral. A parent is not neutral: a parent loves his/her child. I believe God looks upon us as a parent; He sees us as His children and wants to save us. His aim is salvation, not ensuring all the rules are followed. "We must all die; we are like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up. But God will not take away a life; he will devise plans so as not to keep an outcast banished for ever from his presence." (v.14)

And, yes, there are perpetrators and victims, as the complicated story of Amon, Thamar and Absalom (including later Absalom's rebellion) shows all too well! But both perpetrators and victims are loved by God. God wants salvation for all. God's justice is justice for perpetrators and victims - which means it is more than just retributive justice or "paying back" what was done. I love the concept of "restorative justice"; I believe that is what all of us actually need... because victims are not really served by retributive justice either. The woman of Tekoa, a victim because she was robbed of her son, is not helped by the execution of her second son! I believe the justice of God is restorative justice: healing and restoring relationships, helping perpetrators to stop being perpetrators, bringing victims to their rights. And that is the kind of justice we Christians are called to live as well.. giving people a chance to change, helping up the downtrodden, working for peace and healing between people who otherwise would hurt each other.

As for "justice is mercy"...this is on my mind a lot. It bothers me how, very often, I see the word "justice" abused in the Christian context, as though justice were the opposite of mercy. As in: "God is a merciful God but He is also just", as if justice and mercy were opposites. Biblically, they are not - they are tightly and inseparably interlinked.

Mother of Amnon: My Son, my Son

2. Samuel 13:1-32

My son, my son,
what have you done?
My son, what have you become?
Have I taught you nothing?
Has my love meant nothing?
How can I still look at you
after this?

Where is my sweet, sensitive boy?
Where has he gone?
Who is this selfish, brutal man?
What have you done?
Have I taught you nothing?
Who are you now?

Don't you see
the pain you're causing me,
digging claws into my heart,
tearing it apart?
Don't you have a mother?
Don't you have sisters?
Did I not teach you
love and respect?
Where did you learn
this violence, this greed,
this cruelty?
Not from me.

I want to beat you bloody.
I wish you weren't mine.
I want to cast you out
far from my sight.
My son, my son,
what have you done?
How could you do this?
Why?

And yet
you are my son,
my sweet, sensitive boy -
somehow, somewhere
that child is still there.
How I wish he could come out,
set himself free
from the blindness of self,
the chains of lust and greed.
How I wish
your evil deeds could fall away
to uncover the true you
buried beneath.

I want to beat you bloody.
I want to love you back to health.
I wish you weren't mine.
But how can a mother
forget her child?

You are not
what you have done.
I hate your deed
but I love my son.
I love you
and it hurts.
I love you
with the shattered pieces of my heart.
I want to love you back to health,
love you out from the depths of your dungeon,
love the selfish, brutal man
into my sweet, sensitive child again.
My son.

________________________________________________

[26. January 2017]

For some reason 2. Sam 13 is one of my most-written-about Bible texts (Tamar 1, Tamar 2, Tamar Absalom's daughter)... and I'm still planning on writing a fifth poem for it, from the p.o.v. of Tamar's mother.

Amnon's mother is Ahinoam of Jezreel (2. Sam 3:2). I realised it would be interesting to consider this story, of his rape of half-sister Tamar, from his mother's point of view.

While writing this I realised that, despite the way it has been misused and therefore fallen into disrepute, we still need the phrase, "love the sinner, hate the sin". We just need to understand it correctly. I find the phrase has been badly overused and misused in the context of discussions about homosexuality, and is almost only associated with such discussions. The way I first heard it, though, it meant something completely different. To me, "love the sinner, hate the sin" means differentiating between the deed and the person, acknowledging that something someone has done (e.g. in this case rape) is wrong (also for the sake of standing up for the victim), but still caring for the person and wanting them free. I believe we have really watered down this important message by associating it with a "sin" as negligible as homosexuality (I don't actually think it is one, but that's another fight I've already had too much of).

What someone has done does not have to "define" him as a person. I guess no one knows this better than a parent. That's why the Bible works with father and mother imagery to describe the love of God. God as a parent sees not only what we have done, but sees the trapped child beneath. And grace means we don't have to be what we have done, we don't have to be trapped, we aren't doomed to repeat our mistakes, there is a chance to change and to be free.

We need to "hate sin" in the sense that we need to stand up against injustice, cry out against rape and abuse of all kinds.
And we need to "hate sin" in the sense that we want the person imprisoned by it to come free and find their true self again, which was created for goodness, not for evil.
But we need to see the person as not defined by what he/she has done. And no one does that better than a loving parent, I think.
To me, that is what "love the sinner, hate the sin" should mean. It should be about standing up for victims and at the same time recognising the humanity of the perpetrator and giving him/her a chance to change.
I think one reason it's so dangerous to talk about "hating sin" mainly in the context of homosexuality is that we lose all credibility when we want to talk against real sin, or - even worse - ignore the real sin, which in my understanding of the Bible is abuse of others, especially the weak, failure to help the weak, oppression of others, and injustice of all kinds. Read the prophets: all about social justice.


Picture by Käthe Kollwitz, "Woman with Dead Child".

Eve: The Fall

Genesis 3

Lies plant the seed
of distrust, clutching like a weed,
whisp'ring to my heart,
tearing me apart.
Distrust clouds my eyes;
feeling wronged, deprived
wrongfully - why
why can't I take what I desire?
Greed feeds the fire,
distrust rankles, the gap grows wider -

I,
I am on the throne.
I rule myself now.
I, not you,
and I am free.

You call my name -
I flee in shame.
What have I done?
I need you near,
but, filled with fear,
repel you. I run
but cannot hide
from this guilt that stings inside.
What have I done?

Gnawing and biting,
a monster growing,
unwashable stain,
unquenchable pain,
sorrow and night,
no help in sight.

Homesick, I cry,
but the gap is too wide,
the road back fissured and torn.
I seek and wander aimlessly,
ensnared, when I would be free.
I reach - I fall - I fall again,
burning with the fire
of unsatisfied desire:
a hunger for you.
What can I do
to be saved from this death?

You reach - you die.
Why, oh why?
Into my destruction,
into my night,
you bring your light,
pull out the weeds,
rekindle trust.
No longer lost
I live again,
reconciled.

You,
you are on the throne.
You rule my life now.
You, loving you,
and I am free.

______________________________________

[July 2013 - commentary November 2016]

I originally wrote this poem as a reaction J.R.R. Tolkien's Silmarillion (excellent book!), which had made me think more deeply about what the "fall" (Sündenfall) means and how it came about. A prose version of those thoughts can be found here. ^^;

I find this poem really suits Eve. It was written sort of from the point of view of the "falling one" - though I believe that all of us go through our own "fall" and it is wrong to put the whole burden on Eve, as though she were the one who first brought sin into the world. We each bring sin into the world again and again, by repeating the mindset that got it all rolling... I know that I went through the kind of thing this poem describes!

What I realised reading The Sil (I love how novels and other books sometimes open my eyes anew to the Bible) and, at the same time, studying the themes of sin, atonement and justification from a shame-culture perspective, was that sin is not about breaking rules or being disobedient. It's actually about a break in relationship, about a loss of trust which leads to all sorts of other ills. The break of relationship with God leads to a break of relationship with others: we see that when Adam and Eve start pushing blame. And it goes on and spreads and grows: Cain kills Abel, committing the first murder. We see violent people like Lamech in the early genealogies of Gen 4-5. Sin is not just about me and God - it affects everything, it is a "social" thing. That is why when Jesus calls us to repentance, He calls us not just to love God, but to love others. Because reconciliation is not just about receiving forgiveness from God, but about peace with other people and with all creation, too.

Many people are uncomfortable with being called "sinners". Maybe because Christians have used the concept of "sin" almost like a weapon, or pressured others with it. But I believe that deep down we all know we have a problem, that we keep hurting each other, hurting ourselves, that something is broken between ourselves and God, ourselves and other people, and also within ourselves in the way we look at ourselves. And I believe that is sin. Sin is not about the things we "do wrong" (although that's part of it). Sin goes deeper; it's about the fissures and cracks, the distrust and fear and harmful attitudes, that keep us restless bring about the wrong that we do.

I know many are uncomfortable talking about sin - but I believe we must talk about sin, we must be able to confess sin, we must be able to openly face our brokenness. Because we know it's there and we struggle with it. I believe - and have experienced - that it is very liberating to be able to admit to what is broken in me - and to know that this brokenness is not everything, that there is healing, that God does not want to cast us out but comes looking for us (as He looked for Adam and Eve in the garden), that He wants to reconcile us to Him and help us find reconciliation with others and with all of creation. Confessing sin does not mean saying you're a bad person - it means being yourself before God, with all parts of you, even those you don't like - and knowing that, just as you are, you are loved.

Picture by Lucas Cranach der Ältere.

Gomer: Looking for Love

Hosea 2:2-25


Looking for love
in all the wrong places -
feels like I'm wandering
blind through a desert,
chasing mirages,
consumed by my thirst -
never satisfied.

I once had love
but I did not see it -
didn't recognise what I had.
Instead I set to wandering
towards the greener grass
only to find a desert
on the other side.

So burn me now,
my cuckold husband:
destroy me with your love
that I've turned into hate!
You loved me with a fire -
now it's a flame of rage.
So burn me with the anger
of your jealous revenge!

I once had love
and I threw it away,
looking for love
in all the wrong places.
Why should you accept me
into your arms again?
Why should you lead me
back out of this wasteland?
I know the power
of a man's jealousy -
I cannot expect you to love me again.

So what is this love
greater than jealousy?
What is this love
that overcomes revenge?
What is this love
that comes looking for me
out in this void that I lost myself in?
What is this love
that chases after me
drawing me back
into its arms again?

This is the love
I was looking for:
the love I had all along.
This is the love
I was looking for:
I see you - and I am complete.

______________________________________________________________

[14. July 2016]

"And I will take you for my wife forever; I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy. I will take you for my wife in faithfulness; and you shall know the Lord." (Hosea 2:19-20)

Gomer is the wife of Hosea - an unfaithful wife. At the same time, she is a parable for the unfaithful people of Israel, who have turned away from God to idols, and away from the life God meant for them to a life that harms and oppresses others. The book of Hosea is full of calls back to the relationship with God and to a life of mercy and justice towards others (e.g. Hosea 12:7).

I find interesting how the book of Hosea portrays God's reaction to His people's sin to the reaction of a jealous husband to the wife who was unfaithful to him. Jealousy can be very powerful... I guess the greater the love, the greater the hurt when you find out you've been cheated on. The book of Hosea describes strong feelings of anger. And yet again and again it shows: God is not man; He won't be controlled by anger and jealousy, but goes beyond righteous anger to grace and mercy, giving new chances again and again. God overcomes the pain we cause Him, and invites us back where a human husband probably would have balked (and had a right to - the Bible allows and in places even encourages divorce from an unfaithful partner).

God does feel righteous anger and jealousy - because He loves us, and our unfaithfulness causes Him pain, and seeing us hurt ourselves in our fruitless search for love elsewhere pains Him too. But God is not fixated on anger. He wants to draw us back. That is why He has spoken again and again through the prophets: because He never forsakes us, but wants to win us back to Him again. It's up to us to recognise this love and return to Him. The doors are open!

The Tenth Plague: Empathy

Exodus 12:29-32 | Wisdom 11:2-16

Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:31)

Only now I understand you,
only now I feel your pain.
Only now do I feel sorry -
     do you feel sorry for me?

It's something else when it happens to others,
to the outsiders, foreigners, the ones we don't like.
I could close my eyes, ignore it,
or pretend it was all right -
I did not know what it was like,
I did not care to ask.

But now I feel the pain you felt,
now I lose what you have lost,
now He has taken what we took from you,
and made me see what we did to you.

I did not care to ask,
I did not know what it was like.
Perhaps,
had I stopped to imagine
myself in your place,
my son in your son's place,
perhaps then
I would not have let them do to you
what I didn't want done to myself,
would not have made you lose your sons,
for I can't bear losing mine.

Only now I understand you,
only now I feel your pain.
Only now do I feel sorry -
    do you feel sorry for me?

__________________________________________________

[10. January 2016]

This is about / written from the p.o.v. of the mothers of the first-born who died during the tenth plague in Egypt. I decided to write about them after seeing the picture (above) by Charles Sprague Pearce - I must admit I had never considered their point of view before!

I hope this is understood correctly... in no way do I want to say the Egyptian mothers "deserved" what happened to them. Instead I see it as them having to learn empathy the hard way. Reading Wisdom 11 I found interesting that the Israelites had to learn empathy in the desert when they were thirsty (v. 8). And the sentence "one is punished by the very things by which one sins." (v. 16) The Egyptians actually got away considerably better during the tenth plague, I realised, than the Israelites who lost all their sons (except those like Moses who were hidden or saved) during the pharaoh's decree. The tenth plague was not simply a blow from above - it was the Egyptians being made to experience exactly that which they had done to the Israelites before.

So I wrote this considering how a bereft Egyptian mother might look differently at the Israelite mothers who had lost their children under the decree. I doubt that these Egyptian mothers really played a major part in killing Israelite children - but even if one does not play an active role, one plays a passive one (as happened a lot during the Holocaust): not standing up, not protesting, not defending those who are being abused by the system. Often we only realise what is going on and how wrong it is, and that we should be doing something, once we are ourselves affected.

Maybe we need to ask ourselves (before it's too late) who are those suffering today who need our voice. Before, like the Egyptian mothers, we have to be taught empathy the hard way...


Picture by Charles Sprague Pearce.