A Rainbow Connection

The Rainbow Connection

Luke 2:41-52

Karl Evans

2007

Donkeys. Good grief, donkeys. Donkeys have been the stock of motherly love and admiration since the earliest of times. These steady workers have also been the butts of constant jokes. Even political commentators and tired travelers have lamented their stubbornness and cries of woe.

Yet donkeys have a reputation as docile, plodding, easy-going animals, willing to accept any load. Faithful donkeys have been the burden-bearers of almost the entire world since domestic animal history began.

Along a hot trail or standing in the sun or lying in the shade, donkeys seem always to be the same. Legend says donkeys will never stray, never flinch. Much of the hoopla about donkeys is true.

That is, all but that little part about being gentle, easy-going, and docile. And especially except that part about being comfortable to ride.

Donkeys are common on the busiest street in Jerusalem. In front of the Temple of Judaism, the holiest shrine in the world, donkeys may not seem so pleasant. There are a few problems at a sacred site.

Every day, hundreds of people from Jerusalem itself came to the temple. Many more came from faraway places such as India and Spain and Madagascar and Egypt.

The visitors came with their yapping dogs and with their neighing and prancing horses. Pilgrims came with their singing and talking birds and with their oxen and their camels. They came to make an offering to the Lord and to give thanks.

Of course, they also came to buy and sell. They came to yell at and bicker with each other. All this made this one of the most crowded and cosmopolitan of markets of the time.

Now, about the donkeys. What do you think? In this mess, will a donkey stand still? Will a donkey stand quietly while dogs chase each other and fight each other between the legs of the donkey?

Will the donkey stand calmly while huge oxen plod by? Or will it remain placid as the governor's chariots race back and forth?

Can the donkey be calm while camels three times the size of the donkey buck and roar and spit over them? Would you? Of course not.

But now it is early morning, and time to go back home. Time to return to Damascus, and Alexandria, and Bagdad, and Delhi. Time to hit the road.

So the donkey pilgrims form their caravan as early in the morning as possible. When the first light of day comes, they already have their packs tied together and strapped to their beasts.
They are usually some of the poorest of the pilgrims. The wealthier travelers had camels or chariots for themselves. These poor but faithful visitors have only donkeys and dogs. The travelers with camels and horses looked down on them.

Yet the donkey pilgrims are not quite destitute. A donkey, though not a huge animal, is still worth good money. And it still requires feed, and water, and care.

These pilgrims have come to the Temple for the sake of faith rather than status. Some have perhaps done a small bit of buying or selling in Jerusalem to help pay for the trip. Now, with the rituals and the trading done, the Temple visited, and homesickness setting in, it is time to leave.

With the first light of dawn, the men of the caravan make their last walk into the courtyard of the Temple. Many meaningful prayers are uttered here. Often the prayers are for another opportunity to see the temple again one more time before death.

Then the families and animals wait, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. The men offer their last prayers for a safe journey home--wherever around the world that may be. Many of them will never see Jerusalem again. Then, donkey after donkey, camel after camel, sandal after sandal, the ragged bands begin the long trek home. They are long gone before the confusion of the daily marketplace really erupts.

In relief and in a spiritual high, the whole caravan of pilgrims and sightseers and small-time traders move off down the road. They are beginning what will be for many families a 10-day or ten-week trek to home, to Nazareth or Athens wherever their home happened to be.

Almost this whole caravan left.

Almost this whole family left.

There was the boy--oh, about twelve or so. The trip was a present from his parents on his becoming a man. This was in the good tradition of the Jews.

He has been confirmed in the faith just after his twelfth birthday. His family and friends affirmed him and his place in the community. They supported him in his relationship with his God and with God's Chosen People.

Jesus had gone through the ritual in the winter. Now it is spring and the rainy season is past. The family has made the trip from Nazareth to Jerusalem. They came partly as a sightseeing and business trip and partly as a gift to Jesus.

Now Joseph has been getting along in years. This would almost certainly be his last trip to Jerusalem. As he knelt, he felt the majestic presence of the Great Temple. The power of God seemed to force itself upon him from the spot of the Holy of Holies.

In his last few moments alone with the beloved Temple, Joseph prayed for peace for all the world. He prayed for his wife and family. He prayed for Jerusalem, and for Israel, and for the family of David.

At last he let his mind and heart see a new Israel springing up around the Temple. He could see sunshine and flowers and rainbows.

Jesus could even feel the peace of the new Israel. This vision was the most precious gift of any pilgrimage to the Temple. Every Son of Abraham is privileged to witness that vision, given a little faith.

With the vision firmly embedded in his heart and mind, Joseph was ready.

The men of the caravan slowly rose to go back to the caravan and begin the long trek.

Joseph left Jesus kneeling in the courtyard, deep in prayer. Joseph was used to this by now.
Jesus spent more time in prayer than did other boys. Mary and Joseph had long since decided the best parenting style in this situation was benign neglect. He chose to let Jesus be. He did not understand Jesus. Joseph just tried to stay out of Jesus’ way.

Joseph frequently remembered Jesus had a special relationship with God. Often he thought it might turn out to be more trouble than it was worth. Sometimes, such as just now, Jesus was a confusing nuisance. By his special interests, he was not quite in the mainstream of the community.

His extra time reading or in prayer might have been better used to help in the carpentry work. Even at the age of twelve he could have made some money working or trading here at the gates of the Temple. Right now he could have been helping the caravan prepare its departure.

Now that Jesus had become a man, Joseph was hoping he would be a little more reliable about the family business. Jesus can work hard as a carpenter's helper. Jesus could and should do the things needed to make the family life better.

But today, because it is special, Joseph let Jesus have a last few minutes. Joseph had a donkey and a wife to look after. Jesus would be along shortly. Joseph really needed Jesus with him now. Jesus could both carry part of the load and help lead the donkey.

Now as a man and a Jew, Jesus finally lifted his eyes. He rose slowly but resolutely in the morning light of the courtyard. Steadily he turned to join his parents. He really wanted to just stay in the courtyard of the Temple, but he knew he must go back now to Nazareth. There would be another day.

As he took one last look around the yard, his eyes landed on a blind man. The man's dog was just setting on a fight with another dog, a stray. They were yapping and barking and biting and crying.

The leash on the blind man's dog was getting tangled in the legs and mouths of both dogs. The blind man tried to separate them but succeeded only in getting himself bit by his own dog.

Jesus ran to the man and the dogs. With the help of another man he pulled the dogs apart. Jesus struggled to untangle the leashes and legs and teeth of the dogs. He spoke as calmly and gently as he could to sooth the emotions of the frantic dogs.

Jesus spoke the thoughts running through him, deep inside. "There has to be a better way for the Father's creatures to live. Mister, let me look at your dog. Come on, now, that's better. Let's have a look at you."

The blind man knelt beside Jesus, running his hands over his dog. He tried to find the places of torn skin and muscles, but could do little without help. The young Jesus helped him locate the bites that were the most dangerous.

The man found a little oil in his pouch, and Jesus helped him put it on the worst of the places. Jesus tied some of the hairs around a torn spot together to help the skin stay in place until it could heal.

Then Jesus looked to the other dog. He found a panting, heaving, skinny, half-starved mongrel, a wild dog of the streets. Jesus tried to work on his hurts. There was no one to hold this dog. Everyone else had left when the fighting was over.

Jesus thought again, "There has to be a better way for the Father's creatures to live."

Finally a woman knelt beside him to look at the wounds. She poured some water from a skin pouch at her waist. She bathed the open sores. Gently the unknown lady spoke to Jesus and to the dog.

Just as the kind lady brought out a little oil pouch, a large man, a course man, grabbed her by her hair and pulled her roughly to her feet. "Stupid woman. No sense at all. That's about the stupidest thing I've seen ever in this world!"

Jesus heard the words, " . . . in this world," and something in him moved. Something had to change. This was not the world hoped for in Creation.

Then, with the movement within the heart of Jesus, something began to change in the world. Jesus went to the well where another woman helped him clean the mud and the dogs' blood from his clothing and hands.

As they cleaned him off, Jesus questioned himself about his life. There must be another world, another kingdom, another life. But how?

He was supposed to be a man now, but really he was only a boy of twelve. He was the son of a carpenter, the son of Mary. But there was more. The congregation of the synagogue had confirmed Jesus as a Son of the Covenant, a Son of David, a Son of the Creator.

Somehow he didn't know all this meant for him yet, but now he was a man, a responsible adult. He knew he was ready to take his turn in the synagogue, ready to teach, ready to serve.

Just ready! But for what?

Jesus nearly ran to the circle of priests gathering now for the daily Temple work. His eagerness could hardly be contained in his young body. Jesus needed to ask how they could transform this world into the New World.

Jesus partly asked from the Law, which said Jesus had the right to ask questions now. Partly he lived out their tradition, which said he could sit among them for a time. Partly from kindness, but mostly from Jesus’ own boyish eagerness, the priests opened their circle to him.

He began to ask them the questions which were troubling him, questions which have troubled every generation of teenagers.

It was well he did. There were many ideas, refreshing ideas. These learned men were eager to attempt to answer fresh questions, though they were also old questions.

They discovered life anew, these men and the boy/man. Learning together. Dreaming together. Preparing together.

Some of the priests talked about their own frustrations with families who did not understand the commitment to the faith. Some families didn't like the constant emphasis on prayer and ritual.
Jesus could see the real frustrations of temple life in these men. Yet he knew this was only a symptom of the difficulty of living in such a world.

They talked for hours. As their talking went on Jesus became more excited about the forces available to change this world.

He began to see there actually were adults in the synagogues and in the Temple who cared. Many cared as deeply about the world as Jesus did. He began to experience the frustrations of a society which tries to do what is right and just cannot quite hit the mark.

The place of the faithful people of the Lord became much more clear in his mind. His heart seemed to overflow with the possibilities for a new world.

"Jesus! What are you doing? Gentlemen, I'm sorry for butting in, but Jesus has no business here. He is supposed to be with us in the caravan.

"Jesus, we've looked all over for you. Your mother is worried sick. We walked halfway to Jericho before we turned back for you.

"We brought you to Jerusalem because we thought you had become a man, you were no longer a child.

"But now you act like a child. You are supposed to be a man, a Son of the Covenant, a Son of David, a man of the people. Maybe you are too proud to even be with people who have a donkey

"Maybe your people are these rich priests who never have done a day's work in their lives!"

Jesus' vision wandered off to the donkey. He knew his friend was getting old. Hundreds of times he had heard the story of how it had carried Mary and her yet-to-be-born Child to Bethlehem. Jesus had spent hundreds of hours climbing on the donkey, petting him, talking to him, pretending he was another friend. Now it was his job to feed it, to comb it, to keep it healthy and out of harm.

There was a newborn donkey, just a few weeks old now, which would one day replace this old friend on these trips.

Just now the baby donkey was back in Nazareth, just eating and playing and growing. Soon his father would be tired, too tired to make the long trips, but by then the son would be ready.
Jesus thought of the blind man. He remembered with his touch the quivering dogs. His heart churned for the woman with the oil who suffered at the hand of an abusive and violent man. He felt thankful for the one who helped him clean up. His eyes began to see another world.

Jesus looked around at the understanding eyes of the priests. His vision was of them each holding a scroll of the scripture in front of them, reading, explaining, teaching.

He looked at Joseph who just hours ago was kneeling beside him in the Temple courtyard. Together they had prayed for the New World. "Dad, you need to know now I must take care of my Father's business. But you are right. There is work to do in Galilee."

Though the rainy season was past, a rainbow appeared in the bright Jerusalem skies.

The Widow's Little Gift

The Widow's Little Gift

Luke 21

Karl Evans

Jesus made his long pilgrimage at last. It was to be the last long journey of his short but eventful life. Before making his way to Jerusalem, Jesus first traveled all over Galilee. He went down into the Decapolis.

Jesus wanted to go to Scythopolis. This Greek city had a major university. The people were skilled in critical thinking, and in debate. Jesus enjoyed discussions of theology, and politics, and reason, and life itself. Scythopolis would provide him with a great challenge. He never made it. Jesus did, however, take some rest and recreation. He moved easily around the tourist cities of Tyre and Sidon on the Mediterranean coast.

Jesus’ followers were most at home around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus seemed to enjoy spending most of his ministry there. This native of Nazareth knew and honored the traditions of the Hebrew people. One great tradition was that the greatest of the prophets would always come from the area of Galilee.

Now Jesus’ ministry was nearing its zenith. He led his small band down from the hill country of Galilee to the southern territories of Palestine. Jesus met Zacheus in Jericho and shared a meal with him. He had given Bartimaeus back his sight at the gate of Jericho. Now in the final passage of his pilgrimage, Jesus left Jericho to come up the long hill to Jerusalem.

In the holiest city of all Jesus now stood before the most holy building in all the world, the great temple of the Jews. Jesus’ eyes widened at its beauty and majesty. The temple no longer held much gold and precious stones. These were long since stolen by despotic rulers, invading mercenaries and unscrupulous priests.

The presence of the temple in Jerusalem spoke volumes of the theology and faith of the Jews. Its design reflected the sentiment of the Jewish people that their god, Yahweh, was the god of the entire universe.

Carved stones and hanging drapes covered the walls of the temple. Statuary and ornaments graced the gateways and door posts and walls. Temple workers embedded the many doors and columns and fixtures with emeralds and rubies.

Hundreds and sometimes thousands of people came into this beautiful scenario on a daily basis. The faithful came to make sacrifices and prayers. Scholars and students came to study the Torah. Questioners came to talk to the priests. Pilgrims came to visit this holiest of holy places. Tourists came to take in the sights. Some came for all these.

On this day, few had any sense the Son of God was teaching in the temple. Nearly everyone was looking to their own needs, or the realities of the crowds. Nothing special.

Marian came to the temple early. She knew nothing of the Messiah teaching in the temple. If she had known, she would have immediately struggled to touch him, or call out his name. She did not know. Rather, Marian came to the Temple to make her gift. She only cared about her God.

Some might say this was not an easy thing for Marian to do. Some would say Marian really had to force herself to give in this way. Some would say that, but it would not be true. Forcing herself to give was not in the way of Marian. Marian, the widow. Marian, the hard worker. Marian, the survivor.

Twelve long years ago Stalyk had died, leaving her alone in Jerusalem. It was quick and unexpected, his death. Since that sad day Marian made this trip, day after day after day. Every day. On the sabbath she carried a different load.

On the sabbath her visit to the temple was different, but she still made the trip. Good weather and bad, hot and cold. Once Marian had been married to Stalyk. They had a good home of their own. Now Marian, the widow, was married only to Yahweh, and the temple was their home.

It wasn't a long trip, only a few minutes, perhaps a mile. It was usually a pleasant walk even when she walked the hill in the heat of the day. On those days she shaded herself with the hood of her robe.

At first she had not noticed all the people along the route. After a few months she became more familiar with the people, and with the animals. She spoke to them as she passed and they came to expect her to walk by each day. Shopkeepers, beggars, children and others, like herself, just kept on keeping on.

Lately Marian simply walked, and kept walking. She always kept her mind on two things. First, she must be in the temple. Second, she must keep on keeping on and keeping on.

Stalyk had been a shoe maker, a sandal maker, a leather and wood worker by trade. He was quite good at making sandals. Many wealthy people came to him for sandals. Many poor came as well. Stalyk sold all he could make. These were good sandals. Stalyk made the sandals many different ways. Some were all of leather. Some had wood soles and leather straps. Some had cloth pads on the straps, or perhaps bits of metal or stone for decoration.

Sometimes the customers called on Stalyk to make harness for horses or donkeys. Sometimes, when he had time to spare, he made leather and wood shields for soldiers or guards. It was simple work for a good leather worker, and easy money. Stalyk would rather have just been making sandals.

Stalyk was a good man, a strong man. He should have lived a long time. It would have been a good life for Stalyk and Marian. Except for the fighting.

A street battle caught Stalyk between Roman soldiers and zealot guerilla fighters. He was killed just down the street from his home by a ricocheting Roman arrow.

When Stalyk died, Marian began her daily routine. She did what she must to survive as best she could in a world long before the coming of Equal Rights.

Long before women were released from being chattel -- some would say cattle -- status, life was not easy. Marian was forced to make her way in a hostile society. This society held a trap for widows and women driven out by their husbands. Many were forced to live the life of a prostitute or slave to survive. Not Marian. She was strong enough to stave off that degradation.

Marian had learned the sandal trade from Stalyk as they had worked together in the shop. Stalyk had learned from his father. Now Marian learned to cut and sew leather. She learned to work leather just right so it would be supple and soft to not rub blisters.

After Stalyk's death Marian carried on the business alone. Being a woman in the craft was difficult. The purchase of leather was perhaps the most frustrating portion. The leather sellers in the market expected any woman to be weak-willed and incapable of sharp trading. Sometimes the traders even refused to bargain with her for the top quality skins.

Some unethical entrepreneurs made a point of attempting to force the lesser quality of skin on Marian. Some demanded a premium price for their own shoddy material and handiwork. Marian could only smile at their greed and move to another trader.

Sometimes friends would give her bits and pieces of leather, wood or cloth to use. Most of her neighbors and relatives depended on her for their own sandal work. Those close to her often gave her a little extra, just to help her hang on. Marian never made much money.

Days passed into each other as she struggled to keep going. The passage of time meant little to Marian. Except for the sabbath, that is. On every day but the sabbath, Marian rose before dawn to make her little meals for the day. Marian usually had some bread, a little fish and meal. On some celebrative occasion she might share a chicken or a piece of lamb or mutton with a friend.

She spent the day at the market. Marian persistently showed her handmade sandals to potential customers. She took her knife and needles with her. Marian had good skill to make on-the-spot repairs for waiting customers. Someone eager to have their sandals repaired seemed to always appear at mealtime. Her skill and willingness to work were a lifesaver. The footwear was all that stood between tender feet and burning sand and rough stone of Jerusalem streets.

Most of Marian's customers paid her in the time-honored way of all the world, in trade, in barter. Some had flour. Others had fish. Some had wood or metal or jewels. Some even had money.

Marian knew the money was most precious. She could trade such coin for almost anything. It could go for services such as doctors, or for the entertainers that set up shop around the town at night. In Marian’s dreams, the coin could go for perfume, or for jewels. She never spent any on those things, but Marian knew it was possible. She could hold the money for the days Marian did not feel well enough to work. Yet something else called for the money in Marian's life.

Since the fighting had killed Stalyk, many things troubled Marian. She had seen the Roman soldiers come and go. She saw the constant fights with the guerrillas who came in off the desert. They irritated the Roman garrison, then ran back into the hills. The fighters never had much opportunity to really do damage to the Roman army. The Roman legions were too many and too well armed. The fighters just pestered the Romans; even killed a few of them. They could not finally defeat the Romans.

Marian saw death and destruction in the streets. The fighters and the soldiers were not the only ones who suffered the ills of society. She saw families breaking up over wine-drinking. She saw men and women and children wandering homelessly about the streets. They had no shelter, no sanctuary from the cold. Many had no sandals, or no blankets.

Marian saw hunger, and sometimes knew it. She saw how fragile was her own existence. She knew she lived in constant danger. Any day might see her raped or ill or homeless.

If Rome attacked the population of the city, she was as defenseless as any. The reality of her whole world could come to pieces around her in an emergency. Marian had no way to defend herself.

Marian couldn't know the future. Almost forty years later, Rome would sack the city trying to destroy the Jewish heritage. Marian could not have seen that ninety years later the Romans would exact bloody revenge for the attacks by the hill country fighters. The Romans would pull the temple down on several hundred men, women and children. The Jews thought they would be safe, and had taken refuge there. They thought the Romans would not spill blood in the temple. She could not have known of the coming disaster, but she could feel it coming.

This widow was not without her own strength, however. With the death of Stalyk, Marian had committed herself to finding her strength in one place, in one relationship. She had no other recourse. She craved no other source of strength.

Marian knew she needed to find at least one anchor, one rock that would stand firm. If she did, she might cope with whatever the world might throw at her. She had to have a solid rock, a foundation.

She had found her rock. The Lord, the ancient God of the Hebrew people, was her foundation. The rock who was present in Sinai and in Babylon. The rock who was later at Auschwitz and Flossenberg, and who was there in Gaza and Tel Aviv. This was her rock, her strength.

So for twelve years, Marian had made the trek to the temple for the sake of her Rock. She went to the Sanctuary of Yahweh, the Lord, the god whose name says "I will risk my very existence for you!" She called on the Lord of the ancient ones, asking for little, giving praise for much.

For twelve long years she brought to the House of the Lord everything she had left at the end of the day. She held nothing back.

Sometimes it was a few coin, sometimes it was some small gift. Sometimes it was a handful of flour, or a pair of children’s sandals or other small item. These she placed on a table from which the poor could help themselves. Always it was a gift of everything she could put together from her own meager supplies.

Then Marian would go to a small corner for a long time in prayer. Each day the prayer was much the same as the day before.

"Blessed art thou, O Lord, Ruler of the universe. Because you walk hand in hand with me through this day, I fear no evil. Your presence is a comfort to me. I bring this small bit you might use.

For the sake of all who need your presence, establish on earth your kingdom among all of us. I thank you, Lord, that I might share in your presence with this gift. Amen."

With that gift, Marian became one with the will of God. She became one with the Lord in love. Faithful Marian shared her life with her creator just as the Son of God would be one day share his life with her. She lived to be faithful. She was faithful to live.

Often Marian stayed late, kneeling in the corner. She listened often, intently focusing for the voice from God, sensing the peace of the presence of God.

Then Marian began her walk back home. After the time around the temple, the walk home was much easier. As she walked, she began to plan her work and schedule for later in the day. She had sandals to repair or make, leather to work, meal to grind, clothes to wash. Each day was much the same. Marian always had time to pet a dog, or smile at a child, or talk with a young mother holding a squirming family together. Occasionally Marian visited with a Roman soldier or a local politician who was wearing her handiwork on his feet.

Jesus, watching all this, said only, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all the wealthiest of the nations have put in together. They have contributed out of their abundance. This woman, giving out of her poverty, has put in all the living she had. The Lord will reward her."

Jesus knew her heart. He talked then about the problems of this life. He talked about the certainty that all cities are places of destruction and desolation to the poor.

Jesus said "In the midst of all this sorrow, lift up your hearts. When the world seems to come unglued in your very presence, lift up your hearts. It is in the midst of that hurt your redemption comes. It is in the midst of turmoil God will save the people."

"When you see the destruction, you will know the Father is at work among you. The Church will be there, clear to the end of all things. It must live there, building, redeeming, empowering, chastening. It must live."

Somewhere, someplace, the words of Isaiah rang again loud and clear just as Jesus had read them two years and a hundred and fifty miles away.

"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed. The Lord has called me to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."

Marian went home late in the evening, but not alone.

Assyrian Creation Story

Enuma Elish

When on High

Karl Evans


From about the time of Ezekiel
Adapted by Dr. Karl Evans
from the work of Dr. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testaments, and many others.

Sometimes we wonder what difference it makes
What religion we follow,
What beliefs we hold.

Does it matter whether we are Methodist,
Or even Christian, or Muslim or Parsi?
Perhaps there is no difference?

Perhaps it makes no difference what we believe.
Perhaps it makes no difference why we are created,
Or what we believe about our creator.
Perhaps it makes no difference,
The state of the mind of the Creator
At the moment of creation.
We say that sometimes.
But I don't know.
I don't know.

Now our nation is locked into a battle with other nations,
Nations from which our forefathers sprang,
Nations that was the birthplace of Abraham,
The bonds-places of Isaiah, and of Ezekiel,
the home of Babylon and its tower.

When Ezekiel and the people were in slavery there,
Two and a half millennia ago
Ezekiel saw the erosion of the faith.
He saw the ritual
That awful ritual,
That defined the lives of the people of Babylon
on the first day of the
New Year on the tower, that awful place,
the ziggurat,
the holy place of the Babylonians.

Thousands of Babylonians sang and chanted
While standing on the steps of the Ziggurat.
Thousands stood waiting, waiting and listening
For the blessing of the Story of Creation,
For the blessing of being Babylonian.

Ezekiel was confounded by what he saw.
He saw that all the youth of Israel were tempted to join the
Babylonians on the slopes of the Ziggurat.
He knew the story that would be told there,
About the creation.

But there would be no Yahweh
No ancient Lord of Israel,
No remembering the faith
of the Wandering Arameans
who left this place fifteen hundred years before.

Ezekiel knew the citizens of Babylon,
And all those who wished to turn their backs
On the faith of their fathers,
the ancient ones,
Would be there to become as one of the Babylonians
By listening to this story.

They would become as one of the Babylonians,
Free to own land,
Free to marry those cute Babylonian girls,
Free to get a loan at the bank,
By going to the Ziggurat on the first day of the New Year,
By listening to the story,
And allowing the drops of ritual blood to fall on them.

When the children of Israel
Stood on the terraces of the Ziggurat,
This is the story they would hear
That would change them from Israelites
To Babylonians.

Let it be its own witness.
Let it reveal to you the truths of Yahweh and the Creation,
Let it reveal by speaking what is not the truth.
Let it speak by its lies and deceits. Hear,
and understand in your heart
the struggle of Ezekiel.

When on High the heavens had not been named,
Before the fog and mist was brought to order,
Before firm ground had been called forth and named,
There were only two--
By name,
Apsu, the sire of all that was to be,
And Mother Tiamat, she who bore all life in her womb.

The fresh waters of Apsu, the begetter,
And the marine waters of Mother Tiamat,
Commingled together as a single body,
There was no separation between them.
There was no firmness anywhere.
There was not so much as marsh land
In the mist that was their being.

Then it happened that the gods were formed within them,
Gods and goddesses were brought forth,
Being named and ordered by Apsu and Mother Tiamat.

The first of them were formed, Anshar and Kishar by name,
Called before all others.
And Anshar and Kishar lived long and well.

Their child was Anu, the equal of Anshar and Kishar,
The equal of all before him.
The Heir-child of Anu was Nudimmud,
Not the equal of his fathers,
But the master of his fathers
And his fathers' fathers.

Nudimmud was one of broad wisdom,
Understanding,
Mighty in strength.
He was mightier by far than his grandfather, Anshar.
Nudimmud had no rival among the other gods, his brothers.

Nudimmud was leader among the gods,
Chief among the pack, chief at the party.
Nudimmud and his brothers ran and shouted back and forth
Among the mists of all that was.
One day they partied and laughed,
On another day they fought and cried the cries of battle.
Every day they were loud,
Strong in their disturbance of Tiamat, the mother god..

By their loudness and their laughter and their youthful cries
They disturbed the mood of Tiamat as they surged
Back and forth, back and forth.

Apsu, the father of their fathers,
Chided them strongly for their loudness.
"Pipe down in there!
Have a little respect for your elders."
Tiamat was beside herself at their ways,
These young gods and goddesses, their seed.
Their actions were loathsome to her.
Unsavory were their ways,
They were overbearing in their manner,
Rebellious children.

Then Apsu called his wizard, saying
"You who makes my spirit sing,
Let us go talk to Tiamat!"
Together they went to the beautiful Tiamat,
The mother of all gods and goddesses.

Apsu spoke words of anger and bitterness.
"I find their ways repugnant and stupid.
There is no relief during the day
And I cannot rest by night.

I will destroy them,
I will wreck their ways
That quiet may be restored.
Let us have rest!" said Apsu.

Hearing this, Tiamat raged at Apsu.
"What is this?
Should we destroy all that we have built?
These are our children!
We will be kind and gentle with them."

Then the wizard spoke to Apsu.
His advice was evil and self-serving.
"Destroy them and their mutinous ways.
Then you will have relief both by day and by night."

And Apsu's face grew red with rage at what he planned
Against his sons and daughters.

Now, whatever Apsu and Tiamat plotted between them
Was repeated to the gods, the children of Apsu and Tiamat.
When the child-gods heard these things,
They became frightened,
Then fell into silence and remained speechless.

But one of the gods, surpassing all others in wisdom,
Experienced in power and in resourcefulness,
His name was Ea,
He saw through their scheme.
Ea designed a master design, bold and daring,
And by his powers set it into the whole scheme of being so That none could set it aside or depart from it.

Ea made Apsu sleep the non-waking sleep,
The sleep of too much wine..
With Apsu asleep, the wizard was unable to stir,
For his being resulted only from the mind of Apsu.
After Ea chained Apsu,
Ea took the crown from the head of Apsu
And placed it on his own head.
He took the cosmic halo
And wrapped it around his own brow.

Having thus bound Apsu,
Ea slew his father's father.

Then there was peace for a time.

Ea and his Bride, Damkina,
Dwelled in peace in the holy house
Built on the rounded belly,
the top of the body of Apsu,
The body on which we stand today.
This body, the Great Height of Babylon.

Now, in this holy house,
The sacred home on the holy hill,
Was created a god,
The most able and wise of the gods.

Marduk was his name.
Nursed by the most becoming of the goddesses,
Marduk was rendered perfect in awesomeness,
Strong in his walk, alluring in his figure,
Sparkling the lift of his eyes.

There was no disfigurement to see or to control him by.
Four were his eyes, four were his ears,
Seeing all things and hearing all things.
When he moved his lips,
Fire blazed forth.

Damkina his mother cried out
"My Son! My Son!
My Son, the Sun of the Heavens!"

The child-gods looked among themselves
For a champion,
A hero to battle the awesome Tiamat, their mother.

And Marduk was named to be King,
Conferred with scepter, throne and robe.
They said to Marduk,
"Go and cut off the life of Tiamat.
Sever her into many pieces!
May the winds bear her parts to places unknown!"

Then Marduk laid his face to disturb Tiamat,
The mother of gods,
To wrest from her the last knot of power.

Marduk called forth the storms to disturb Tiamat,
For the gods have no sleep in the storm.

And the words came to Tiamat,
"Watch what Marduk is doing!
When they slew Apsu, your lover,
You did not aid him but lay still.

Because you lay still, and did not stir,
Your lover Apsu was destroyed.
Now Marduk has brought the mighty storm to disturb you,
And there is no rest.
There is none other. You are left alone.
Let Apsu, your lover, be avenged!"

So Tiamat chose from among her own assembled gods,
Her first-born,
A council for battle, and a leader.
This leader was one Kingu, given all power in council.
"Your command shall be unchangeable,
Your word shall endure."
Tiamat set Kingu up as her son, her heir,
In command of all things.
Kingu began to prepare for battle,
Calling from all the council of Tiamat their advice.

From Mother Hubur, who fashions all things,
Tiamat gathered matchless weapons.
Only Mother Hubur could make them,
These master tools of violence.

Tiamat bore monster-serpents with sharp teeth
And long fangs, filled with venom.
Tiamat clothed roaring dragons with terror,
Making them like gods,
So that all who look upon them will die.
She set up the Viper,
The Dragon,
And the Sphinx.
She called for the Great Lion,
The Mad Dog,
And the Scorpion-man,
The Centaur,
Weapons that spare not.

Thus Tiamat prepared to avenge her lover, Apsu,
To make her own peace by destroying her own children.

And thus it came that the battle to be fought,
Came to be fought between Tiamat, the mother of gods,
And Marduk,
Merodach-bashan, to those who read the Old Testament.
It was a battle long on power and on brutality,
A battle not ever to be matched
among those who survived the first..

Marduk and Tiamat fought with demons and dragons,
Powers and beasts,
With sharp teeth and clashing fang.

With loud roars,
Marduk threw lightning bolts through the skies at Tiamat.
With shrieks of anger,
Tiamat tore at Marduk
With her Scorpion-man
And with her Mad Dog.

Then at last Tiamat opened her mouth with a rage,
To the roots of her legs she shook,
Casting leave of her senses.

Tiamat prepared to consume Marduk,
So wide open was her mouth.

Marduk seized the moment,
The decisive moment of the universe,
Drove the tornado into her mouth
So she could not close it.
Her body was distended by the force of the wind.
He slew her with an arrow formed of the lightning,
A flash of fire, a spear formed of the heat of the sun.

Casting her down.
Marduk slew her there.
Marduk slit her body open as a clamshell,
Half of which he posted as the earth,
Holding the waters of Apsu and Tiamat.
Half the body of Tiamat
Marduk made to be the sky.
Marduk named the years and the days.
Marduk set up the seasons and the constellations.
He set the moon ablaze at night.

And then Marduk announce his grandest plan.
"Blood I will mass, and cause bones to be.
I will establish a savage, Man shall be his name.
He will do the work for the gods,
That the gods will be at ease.
For we are gods, and labor should not be our lot.
But one of the gods must die
That the rest of us might live.

Ea, the father of Marduk, spoke to Marduk,
Pleased by the plan for the relief of the gods.
"Let but one of the gods be handed over.
He alone shall perish that mankind may be fashioned.
Let us call the gods into assembly,
And let the god who is guilty before all be handed over
That the others may endure."

In the assembly, the gods cried out,
“It was not I!
It was Kingu!
It was Kingu who brought the uprising,
Who caused the battle!"

They brought poor Kingu before Ea
Who pronounced the guilt
And the condemnation of Kingu.
They opened his blood vessels
And as his blood fell freely in drops to the earth,
Full of the very passion of the gods,
The vision of the gods for tomorrow,
Full of the power of the gods,
The blood was fashioned into humankind,
By the addition of the ways of death
And uncertain knowledge
And humankind became a reality
For the service of the gods.
For the eternal service of the gods.

And it came to pass that humankind,
To this day,
Is called to serve the gods.

Humankind is named from the blood of Kingu
To plow the fields and irrigate the crops,
To harvest the crops,
To build temples for the glory of the gods,
And to bring to these temples
The best of the produce of the fields
That the gods might be satisfied
And rage and battle no more.

And when the old year and all persons die,
The blood of Kingu will scatter upon the earth,
And you will come again to life
And yet again will the gods be satisfied
By your labors.

And as the priest finished reciting the story of the creation,
He gathered up his container of wine,
Shaking it against the skies,
Letting the drops of blood-red liquid fall among the crowd
Gathered on the slopes of the Tower.
And the drops were brought into new life in the persons on whom they fell,
New life to serve the gods,
The citizenship of the nation,
For the service of the gods.

Let no one assume, now,
That the people of Iraq still share that ancient myth.
Today, even the people of Iraq,
Devout Muslims, many,
Strong in their faith,
Have a creation story that is different--
Quite different--
From the one I have just told you.
They have turned their backs on this old story--
Indeed, most of them abandoned it long ago.

Let us consider the new story they have chosen
To establish the relationship between human beings and god,
The god they know as Allah.

Let me read to you just a bit of this story.

In the Beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth,
And the earth was without form and void, adrift in the mist.
And darkness was upon the face of the deep waters. ......

Sound Familiar? It should.

The Scriptures of Islam and the Scriptures
Of Judaism and Christianity are together
Until we reach the story of Hagar and Ishmael.

Then let me read to you something that is said later.
Coming from the covenant God makes with the People,
Who live out this story of life and covenant.

God loved the people of the world so much
that he gave the life of his only son
That whoever lives and has faith with him
might not perish but have eternal life.

The Brothers

The Brothers

(all rights reserved)

Karl Evans

O Cain. Sad Cain.
Cain who was born first of the brothers.
Cain who knew the blessings of birthright and name.

Now, without doubt,
Cain was a good man.
Hardworking farmer,
Backbreaking labor,
Breaking up the virgin earth to plant seeds and chop weeds and harvest crops.

Not a loud-mouthed braggart as some would suppose,
But a man of steady heart and bronzed arms and dusty hair and tired muscles.

But crops are slow in coming to glory,
Slow to turn the sun and sweat to gold and green.
Except for new potatoes the first fruits of the soil are rarely good,
rarely sweet and choice.
Rather, it is the fruit of the peak of the harvest
That wins the prize at the county fair and turns the mouths of the satisfied to drooling.

But the response one is called to make to the Creator is to bring to the Maker the first fruits.

And Abel. Doomed Abel.
Abel, the second son,
The one with nothing at stake.
The one with no birthright,
No land, no home.

Abel is an exile, One with no fields.
One with no fields becomes a hunter,
A worker with roaming animals, a shepherd by necessity.
Abel wanders with his flock of sheep
And when the sheep brings forth a lamb Abel brings that little bleating, nestling, suckling pile of skin and bones to God as offering.

Have you ever seen a day-old lamb?
Have you ever held one in your arms--
Had it look into your face with innocence and beauty?
Felt its pounding heart against your own?

You know, then, the heart of God.
Who among the loving gods could put the lamb down?
Who could ignore the curly wool,
The wondering eyes,
the warm body--
And turn then to nestling a sheaf of wheat,
an ear of corn,
a box of apples,
a bale of hay?

O Cain, sad Cain.
Your best has been brought side by side with that of baby brother.
Baby brother gets the blue,
You get the red.
Just the red.

No matter, Cain, that you have the name and the birthright
And the fields and the muscles.
No matter that Abel has only a few sheep and a bow and arrow.

Cain, sad Cain,
Your brother has the spotlight,
That which is yours of right.
No matter your crops are growing and yet to come on in beauty.
No matter the hard work ahead that will feed you both through the long cold winter.

No matter Abel is your brother,
Shared the same womb,
Suckled the same breasts.
Your brother dies at your hand,
O Cain, sad Cain.

All is lost.
Now you have no brother, Cain.
More than this,
You have no land, your home
Your firepit shall lie in ruins, sad Cain.

But more!
From the face of God you shall be hidden, Cain,
From seeing the smile,
From hearing the laugh.
And those hands, Cain--
Those hands that formed you from the clay

and laid you in your mother's womb--
You shall not lay into those hands your first-fruits of the ground!

Shall you be forever nothing, sad Cain?
But no!
Sad Cain, I promise 'tis not so!
Though you be adrift from fields of right
The God of Grace goes with you.
As your parents did before you
You have chosen to be cut off, sad Cain,
cut off from the face of God!

But who is that beside you, Cain?
Who is that who reaches out the hand for yours?
By your side moves the face of God,
Beloved Cain;
You shall not be cut off!

And is this not reward enough already,
That God is yet among us?
That added fame and wealth need not be sought,
For God is yet among us?
Bury your face in the shoulder, Cain,
Cry the tears of Joy.
Let your heart beat gently, Cain,
For God is yet among us.

I Am Not A Godless Man

Job

All Rights Reserved

Karl Evans

Once upon a time in the Land of Uz there lived a man named Job. You have heard of Uz. The land is not too far from here. It is a comfortable and pleasant place to live.

Job was a good and just man. He did his best to live the kind of life he knew he should. It was a life that reflected his best dreams. He was deeply concerned about his faith with Yahweh, his Lord.

Job was rather a typical man in many ways. He lived with his wife and children and grandchildren. Job's adoring family gathered around him in the evening when the work was done.

With the children close around, Job told them the stories of the past. When he told these stories, he always talked about his Lord. It was Job’s way of making certain his family was easy with the Lord.

Job had friends and neighbors who wanted to trade with Job. They trusted Job. Because of his honesty and his fairness, Job had many friends.

Job always had much to trade. His farm was blessed with an abundance of sheep and goats and cattle. Job’s crops always produced plentifully for harvest. The hay and grain fed many sheep and goats and cattle. Job’s harvests of vegetables and fruit were always prized for their quality.

When Job struck a deal with a neighbor to trade, his word was as good as gold. No one ever suggested he tried to substitute poor products for good.
In most ways, Job was very much like everyone around. However, most believed Job to be a little stronger and a little more honest than others. He might have seemed a little more sensitive than some to the needs of those around him. That is, he was a little different.

Job had only one real worry. He was concerned that he might do something that would be counted as sin. This worried him every day.

This deep concern led to one unusual task each day. Job handled it as regularly as clockwork. He finished his work with joy over the blessings provided by the Lord. Then at the close of the day Job would make a little sacrifice. This was to show repentance for any misdeed he might have committed.

Often the sacrifice was a dove, or a chicken. Sometimes it was a handful of grain thrown into the fire or into the wind. On special occasions it was a spotless lamb that was slaughtered. Job so wanted to do what was right in the eyes of the Lord.

Each evening, just before sunset, Job's family gathered around the table. They ate their good food. They talked about the events of the day.

One evening a neighbor rode up with word that thieves had raided Job’s property. The oxen and mules had been captured and the servants killed. A bunch of rogues such as occasionally infested the area had done the dirty work.

As Job went from the table to investigate the situation, a servant rode up. This servant told Job that some wild Chaldeans from across the river had raided one of the camps. This was a wild mob of raiders from across the Jordan River. They had killed some more of the servants and stolen Job's camels.

Job was now confused and heartbroken. This servant began to pour out the details. The confused Job hardly knew where to go first. He had been leaving to investigate one tragedy and been called to another.

In a moment, yet another servant came running. This servant cried "Your children have been caught in a tornado and all of them are killed!"
At this news, Job was just beside himself. His family, his crops, his animals, his servants--all were gone. Job wept. Big tears cascaded down his cheeks, staining his robe.

Job raised his voice to the heavens as he wept. He did not lift his voice in anger. Rather, the hills rang with praise as he spoke an ancient poem:

"Naked I came from my mother's womb;
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the Name of the Lord!"

Being faithful was very difficult in such a trying time.

Being faithful was very difficult in such a trying time.

As the days and weeks and months went by, Job tried to keep his face and his faith. He struggled to recover the work of his life.

But one day Job found himself with sores all over his body. The sores were not only ugly, but they smelled and ran with liquid. They made other people afraid to be near him. The neighbors thought maybe he had leprosy.

Job's wife was an understanding and kind woman. She worked hard to make a good life. She tried to help Job get out of his misery. She said, "Job, I love you dearly. But you would be better off if you were dead. Curse God, and God will make the lightning strike you dead."

Job did not hesitate but answered "Hush, honey! We accept good from the hand of the Lord. Should we not also accept the hurt that comes?"

So Job kept the faith, but it was not easy. The day finally came when Job could not take any more of the pain. He could not fight the battle of faith any longer.

Job had some friends, people he trusted. They listened while Job, he who would never curse the Lord, cursed the day he was born. "Damn the day that I was born! Damn that sunrise and that sunset! Damn the clouds that drifted by on that day! Damn the water that flowed in the streams of the earth on that day!"

"May the memory of that day fade in the infamy it so richly deserves! Why couldn't I have died at birth rather than live so long as to see my life destroyed?"

Job’s friends listened. They could scarce believe their own ears! Eliphaz, a scholar who had come from Te'eman, spoke first. "Job, my friend, we know you are a good man. You have helped all of us at one time or another. But we know the Lord, and you know the Lord. It is certainly true that the Lord does not punish anyone for nothing. You must have done something very bad."

"I know you don't know what it was. Think of it this way, my friend. With the punishment comes a release. As you pay the price for what you have done, you will be free of the burden of your sin. You will live a good, long, healthy life. You have paid such a great price for whatever is your burden."

Job angrily listened to the words of Eliphaz. He was bitter both Eliphaz. Job was bitter at the Lord. "Eliphaz, I don't know which is worse. I serve a god who takes away the lives of my family and my servants. This destroys me. I have a friend who accuses me of some guilt without naming the guilt. I do not understand this strange thought. My God chooses to destroy my people. I would rather that God would destroy me than take the lives of my people."

"What gain is there if the Lord claims I am guilty but I have not the knowledge of my own evil? I need to know how long it will be before I am forgiven by the Lord. If the Lord waits too long, I will be lying in the grave. I will not be available for forgiveness. I need to know now!"

Another old friend, Bildad, the wise man from the land of Shuh, said "Job, please remember that I am your friend. Don't talk about God that way. You must really pray. Pray hard. If you will really get down on your knees and just pray, that will do it. The Lord will forgive you and everything will be all right."

By now Job was willing to try anything. "I will try. But I don't really even have self-confidence enough anymore to even pray. How can I be a just man before God? Do you not see all these things have happened to me? They are the proof that I am a worm, and not a good man."

"If I come before God he will truly destroy me. Oh, would that I had never been born! Leave me alone, Lord, just leave me alone!"

These words of anger caused another friend, Zophar, the community leader from the land of Na'aman, to speak. "Job, buddy, let me give you some words of wisdom. You are feeling a great guilt. You say you have failed in some way before the Lord. You try every day to do what is just and right."

"But you get no words from the Lord saying what is wrong and what is right. You cannot know the secrets of the Lord."

"You are feeling guilt. You know no reason for guilt. You just know bad things are happening to you. Therefore you think you must be guilty for some unknown reason. You believe that the Lord would not punish the innocent."

"Surely the Lord does not require so much of you? You surely cannot be guilty of that which you are unaware. So my advice, my friend, is simply to love the Lord with all your heart! Do not be so concerned to understand. Perhaps you simply cannot understand. Perhaps it is not the will of the Lord that you should know!"

At these words Job roared with anger, both at Zophar and at the Lord. "No doubt you are the only wise man. When you die all wisdom will die with you. Is that not true?"

"Come now. I am not so dumb. I have some understanding of the ways of the Lord. Ask the birds and the rabbits and the foxes the ways of the Lord. They will tell you. If you ask the tree and the bush and the worm, they will tell you."

"Am I so dumb?" queried Job. "Am I dumber than these other creatures of the Lord? I know something of the way of the Lord!"

"And you just watch! I am preparing my case to lay before the Lord. I am not a godless man. A godless man will not stand before the Lord. I will. I will lay my case before the Lord, face to face, toe to toe. I will challenge the Lord!"

"I will ask `Why, Lord?'. I will ask the Lord `Under what pretext do you do this to me?’"

Eliphaz by now was ready for the lightning bolt to strike. "Your words! Your words! Your words are doing away with the fear of the Lord! No one will be filled with awe and terror at the name of the Lord if you stand to the Lord face to face and survive. Because of this, the Lord cannot let you win your case."

"You will be finally destroyed! Back off, my friend. Relax, don't be so possessed. Don't worry so much about it. Let it be!"

Zophar said "Be at peace, my friend. You know you don't have long to live. You know people are frail. We are not really of much worth to God. You know God could well do without all of us. God does not need even a great teacher such as me. Take it easy."

Bildad spoke up. "Remember, the peace of the ungodly comes only when they are destroyed. Those who do not dwell in the house of the Lord will be destroyed."

By now Job was in no mood to dink around. His family was gone. His servants and his cattle and his flocks were gone. His body was covered with sores that caused people to back away from him.

His friends, people with whom he sought counsel, did not support him. Some accused him of deserving the pain and punishment. Others just told him to buck up and take it like a man. They said he should suffer without complaint at the injustice.

Finally Elihu, the fourth friend, began to speak with words that brought strength and hope. "Job, listen carefully. I have some things to say on God's behalf. Don't let the evil that has come on you destroy your faith. Do not pay attention to the words of those around you. They must not turn you to scoffing at the Lord. The ways of God are just. There is neither evil nor selfishness in them."

"The Lord does not need to show us the divine ways. But the Lord shows us what the Lord will show us out of choice. Remember what the Lord has shown to you! The Lord has prospered you in the good times as well as the hard times. Do not scoff at the power of the Lord!"

Now Job was silent. He had to listen, for what Elihu said was truth. In many ways, he had been fulfilled by the Lord. Job knew that though he wanted to find fault with the Lord, he could not. For what fault could there be in the Lord?

Then out of the cloud the Lord spoke to Job. The voice of the Lord was deep, like thunder. "Job, prepare to do battle. Gird up yourself like a man, and come before me face to face."

"Let me question you. How strong are you? Your muscles were big, and strong. Could you plant a ring in the nose of the hippopotamus?"
"Your hands have tamed the wild bull. That is really something, I will grant. But can you go fishing for a crocodile? Can you pierce a python with a hook as bait for the croc?"

The Lord did not wait for an answer. He knew there would be none. "No? Then what makes you think you can do battle with me?"

Job did not look down. Instead, he answered the Lord in words so true in all the ages.

"I have met you face to face. For this, I expected to die, but I did not. Now I live and I understand. Before the evil came on me, we were not close. Then the evil came, and the only way I could finally win would be to do battle with you with words and emotions. You might have destroyed me, for you are God. You have all wisdom and heart."

"But you did not take my life. Now we talk together, you and I. Our words and our questions are stronger than battle. Our common victory is in knowing the heart of the other. I ask you questions and you answer me."
"Before, I had only heard of you. Now I know you face to face. I have not been destroyed but redeemed. Before, I knew the joy of things. Now I know the joy of knowing you."

Now Job and the Lord walked arm in arm together. Job no longer needed to do battle with the Lord. Job did not now risk his own destruction. But Job was now not afraid to ask the Lord "Why?"

Job was now not afraid to listen to the words of the Lord. Job was not afraid to love the Lord.

Karl Evans
All Rights Reserved

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