Drunk with Love: Reading the Song of Songs with Beyoncé

Hey friends- so wow, it's been a while since I've been able to post much here... the second half of my last semester of seminary was pretty nuts, with a whole lot of writing and other assignments to finish, which took up most of my time. Now that I'm graduated from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, and I have a little bit of time on my hands before beginning my first call to ordained ministry in a parish, I figured I'd take some time to not only catch up on the ol' blog, but in fact to give it a bit of a facelift as well. So, what do you think about the new layout? I tried to go for a bit more of a professional, streamlined look.

At any rate, while there was a whole lot of writing over the last few weeks (about 80 pages in assignments), most of the assignments were a whole lot of fun, so I'll be posting them up over the next week or so. What follows though is probably my favorite paper I wrote throughout seminary, a sort-of exegetical take on Song of Songs 5:1, with my favorite international sensation Beyoncé as a conversation partner. I'd love to hear what you think!

Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love.

- Song of Songs 5:1 (NRSV)

I read the Song of Songs probably twenty times this past week, in a vain attempt to figure out what to write for this paper. Maybe it’s due to the overwhelming sense of excitement and gratitude I’m feeling as graduation approaches, but wow, no matter how many times I went through it, I just couldn’t come up with anything substantial to say! I wanted to dig deep, I wanted to come up with something profound that might rise above the centuries long debate over whether the Song is an allegory for God’s relationship with humanity or whether it’s simply about two ordinary folks deeply in love with each other. I almost thought about shifting my paper topic to another book of the Bible, but the Song kept calling me back… In a time when so few folks are regularly active in organized faith communities, at least in the American context where I’m called to pastor, the Song proves a uniquely powerful tool for self understanding, dialogue with folks of other faith traditions (or lack thereof) and thus, a level of mutual understanding.

Indeed, for us folks living in a pluralistic world, the Song is perhaps the most accessible book in the Bible… in a literal sense few individuals (outside some Pentecostal settings) see God hanging out here on Earth, regularly witness miraculous healings, or hear a Divine echoing down from heaven. Quite similarly, God’s presence is never explicitly mentioned in the Song. If it wasn’t for the Song’s placement in the wider Jewish and Christian canons, there would be little reason to consider it part of a scriptural genre at all. On the other hand, since the Song is in the Bible, it must have something to say about the Divine, right? Why would it be there otherwise? In this way, the Song of Songs floats above our culture’s false dichotomy of sacred and secular, towards a more holistic understanding of God’s work in the world, an understanding accessible to believers and non-believers alike.

In its ability to move past the false dichotomy of sacred and secular, the Song of Songs proves a uniquely powerful tool for ministry in a pluralistic world. While I understood this point, and it thus seemed important to explore the Song further, I simply couldn’t come up with much else besides identifying it as a really pretty song about romantic love that uses garden imagery to create some decidedly erotic undertones. Up pretty late and frustrated with my lack of progress last night, I decided to start googling terms like “top love songs of all time,” thinking it might be interesting to compare the Song’s image of love to that of contemporary music. I stumbled through songs from a diverse group of popular artists, everything from the Righteous Brothers to Foreigner, The Beatles to Whitney Houston, Stevie Wonder to the Dave Matthews Band, but nothing felt like it quite reflected what was going on in the Song of Songs. I eventually decided to read through the Song one more time before going to bed, and finally part of a verse stuck out at me: “eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love.”

Drunk with love! Now anyone that’s hip to what’s going on in Top 40 radio right now would recognize a similar phrase! Ever since she dropped a surprise album in late 2013, Beyoncé has been “blowing up the charts” as they say with a number of hit jams, with the song “Drunk in Love” being her most popular. Given Beyoncé’s standing in American society, I assumed “Drunk in Love” would be a perfect dialogue partner for the Song of Songs. Billboard named her the top selling artist of the decade, and at least from my perspective, not since JFK and Jackie has a couple been so held up as an “all-American family” like Beyoncé, her husband Jay-Z and their young daughter Blue Ivy. Furthermore, her performance at the 2013 Superbowl holds the record for being the most tweeted event in history! Perhaps it’s my bias as a millennial and a proud member of the “BeyHive” (as fans frequently call themselves), but right or wrong, what Beyoncé has to say about love, on one level, likely reflects current popular thinking on the subject.

Furthermore, Beyoncé’s latest album is a “visual album” with each song accompanied by a pre-recorded music video. With all this in mind, “Drunk in Love” seemed like it might be a perfect dialogue partner with the strikingly vivid portraits painted by the Song of Songs. Upon careful analysis of the lyrics and accompanying music video however, although its definitely about getting lost in nuptial sexuality, “Drunk in Love” still didn’t feel quite right. The Spirit moves in mysterious ways however, and after deciding to click the YouTube link to another song from Beyoncé’s visual album, “XO,” I found exactly what I was looking for. In “XO,” Beyoncé joyfully dances and plays with friends and strangers, drunk with nuptial love while awash in the strange, neon garden of Coney Island. There’s longing and even a tinge of sadness amidst the joy however… love between mortal beings, no matter how bright, cannot last forever. Beyoncé sings to an unnamed beloved (we can assume that’s Jay-Z) to take her quickly, “before they turn the lights out.” After watching “XO,” I finally got it. In seeing what being “drunk with love” looks like in the post-industrial, digitally networked world I live in I could begin to understand how the concept of being “drunk with love” is so important to the world portrayed in the Song of Songs. In fact, coming from my particular context, being “drunk with love” provides a key exegetical lens for understanding what the Song says about living a life of love with a committed, longterm beloved partner AND living a life of love with God.

Giving its elusive, almost mystical nature, debate over the Song’s “true” meaning has existed since nearly the time of Christ, if not earlier. While Rabbi Aquiba’s argued for the Song’s canonicity based on illustration of God’s love for Israel, Church Fathers like Cyril and Ambrose used the Song of Songs in baptismal liturgies, perhaps borrowing from Saint Paul’s use of the nuptial image to characterize the mystery of Christian initiation in Ephesians 5:25 and II Corinthians 11:2. Origen however took Paul’s typological approach to the mystery of Christian initiation quite further in his commentary, moving toward an allegorical interpretation that considered Christ’s love for the Church as THE meaning of the Song. To put it in a hopefully more intelligible way, while Paul and the early baptismal liturgies would use the Song’s image of a nuptial bond as the type of thing that came closest to characterizing Christ’s love for the Church, Origen and especially later theologians’ allegorical approach considered the Christ/ Church or the Christ/Christian relationship the primary meaning of the text, buried beneath the less important plain meaning of two folks in love. Modern allegorical commentators tend to follow a similar vein, basing their assumptions about the “true” meaning of the Song by “anthologizing” similar words from other Biblical witnesses who describe God’s relationship with Israel/ the Church through the nuptial image.

As Ricœur points out, allegorical interpretations have their problems, especially since other biblical witnesses use the nuptial image quite differently from its use in the Song of Songs. Throughout the Prophets the nuptial image is typically one of the unfaithful wife or of God’s overwhelming love for Israel, neither of which reflect the deep sense of loving mutuality in the Song. Furthermore, as many of the early allegorical interpretations were written by ascetics, they typically needed to empty the Song’s erotic images of any human to human meaning in order to describe mystical love or union with Christ. Unfortunately, the Reformation’s focus on the plain meaning of the text and the Enlightenment’s search for universal truth resulted in equally unsatisfying interpretations. Modern techniques like historical criticism did indeed result in essential work, especially in identifying the author of the Song as likely female, but in other instances deconstructed the text to the point of near meaninglessness for those outside strict academic circles. Such readings have also frequently gotten bogged down in the need to agitate against conservative Christianity’s legalistic claims regarding human sexuality.

I still hold these subversive readings as important, however. The sinfully patriarchal legalism applied by conservative Christian to human sexuality, whether it be in regard to LGBT issues, sex before marriage, or a host of other matters, has gotten in the way of many believers hearing the gospel in recent decades; I myself almost left the Church for such reasons. That said, by relying solely on interpretations that stand above and in judgement of the text, it’s easy to miss how the world painted by the Song of Songs can profoundly shape one’s life of faith. Throughout this semester I’ve been blessed to experience the deep ways the scriptural world helps form our identity by standing in dialogue with the world we experience. Especially as the forces of sexual legalism continue losing ground throughout many regions of our country (Arkansas’ ban on marriage equality was struck down just yesterday in fact), I believe developing an alternative reading from within the Song that avoids the universalistic claims of past allegorical approaches is an important task. Reading the Song of Songs through an internal lens of being “drunk with love” in this way takes precedence over the external readings of recent decades, while not necessarily negating the important contributions of such work.

Speaking about his understanding of the Scriptures through faith, Karl Barth proclaims the following in The Word of God and the Word of Man:

…we may rest assured that in the Bible, in both the Old and the New Testaments, the theme is, so to speak, the religion of God and never once the religion of the Jews, or Christians, or heathen; that in this respect, as in others, the Bible lifts us out of the old atmosphere of man to the open portals of a new world, the world of God.

In this quote at least, Barth is absolutely correct—the world of our Scriptures is the world of God, a world that through faith shapes how we understand the world of our everyday experience. At the same time however, the world of the Bible, God’s world, tells us it can be understood through the world of our everyday experience. Perhaps the most profound example of this is Paul’s preaching to the Athenians in Acts 17:

Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us (Acts 17:22-27).

Paul proclaimed to the Athenians that they already possessed an understanding (albeit incomplete) about the world of God through the “unknown god” of their experience. We search for God, reaching for Her in faith through the world of our experience, and in turn apply this experience to the world of the Bible. Hence, a dialectic is created: the Bible interprets and indeed forms the world of our experience, but our experience interprets the world of the Bible in return.

Given this understanding, if we experience our world through the eyes of faith, how could we not understand the Song’s image of nuptial love between two human beings as also saying something about the love of God? If a person of faith has ever experienced mutual, long-term, deeply trusting, committed and at times ecstatic love for another human being, how could she or he not know something of the love God through such a relationship? The world of the Bible teaches us that while made imperfect in sin, we are still created in the image of God: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27). How then could the nuptial love of our beloved not be understood as an imperfect image of God’s love? Coming at it from the opposite direction, Christ calls us to love each other in much the same way we’re called to love God:

“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” (Matthew 22: 36 - 40).

Christ teaches us the first of the greatest commandments, to love God with heart, soul and mind, is like the other, to love our fellow humans as ourselves.

I’ll summarize quite simply: in loving our beloved, we love God. In loving God, we cannot help but love our beloved. In being loved by our beloved, we know something of God’s love. These experiences of love are inherently knit together, by love, actually. Are there other ways to know God’s love outside of nuptial love for another human being? Absolutely! Word and sacrament are a couple great examples. Similarly, are there other ways to love God outside of nuptial love for another human being? Absolutely! There are a whole lot of folks to love in other ways out there. Yet in the world of the Bible, a world through which we understand the world of our experience in faith, to know the nuptial love of a beloved is to inherently know something of the love of God. The Song of Songs certainly has something to say then about the love of God, but it’s not buried beneath the text as some sort of esoteric message. The plain sense meaning of the Song is a woman’s nuptial love for her beloved, and the nuptial love she equally experiences in kind. Yet in the world of the Bible, an experience of God’s love is implicitly part of experiencing the nuptial love of two human beings. By placing ourselves in the plain sense world of the Song and hence knowing something of this woman’s experience of nuptial love, we cannot help but know something about God’s love.

Interestingly enough, after a significantly more detailed analysis than my own, Ricœur arrives at quite a similar conclusion:

At last intersection between the poem and myth is also intriguing. One may challenge the theological character of these two texts where God is not named or referred to. To this we can reply that it is the myth of creation as a whole that names God. Did we not refer above to the verse that says that “Yhwh God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone…’”? This divine approbation authorizes us to say that love is innocent before God. But, someone may say, can God be the witness of a declaration for which he is not the intended audience? Perhaps we should answer, in an exploratory vein, that the origin has no need of being distinguished, named, or referred to insofar as it inhabits the creature? Man loves, beginning from God. If so, when rereading in light of Genesis, the Song of Songs becomes a religious text insofar as we can hear in it the word of a silent, unnamed God, who is not discerned owing to the force of attestation of a love caught up in itself.

Humanity loves, beginning from God. Ricœur’s findings have profound meaning for anyone living out a life of faith, to be sure. His work certainly furthered my understanding of the text. At the same time however, his overall method, or at least his rhetorical style, misses an important aspect of the Song of Songs, especially when one reads the text through the lens of being “drunk with love.”

To understand what I mean by such criticism, we must examine the experience of being “drunk with love,” both within the world of the Song of Songs and in the world of our human experience. While I by no means am arguing Beyoncé’s song “XO” and its accompanying music video are equivalent to the Song of Songs in any way (I figured it was pertinent to make that clear), “XO” did help me see what being “drunk with love” looks like in the world of my experience. Beyoncé is immensely joyful, drunk with love amidst the sea of humanity at Coney Island. There’s a light-hearted element to this joy—near the end of the video she’s dancing atop a skeeball game in an old-fashioned arcade, teaching folks somewhat silly moves akin to what usually accompanies the Village People’s “YMCA.” While light-hearted and perhaps even silly, there’s a profound element here as well. Only a few moments later she’s shown signing the “XO” dance in front of a massive audience, taking a bold stand for love. When “drunk with love,” all sorts of regular human distinctions disappear, seemingly conflicting emotions flow seamlessly together only to break apart again in new types of knowledge that move beyond the limits of human verbal expression.

I know I’m overly reliant on the visual story-telling of my globally networked world, and perhaps my constant visual connection to humanity through YouTube, Hulu and Netflix has dulled my ability to see the deep sense of being “drunk with love” in the Song of Songs, but wow, it’s still certainly there! The following words of the lovers as translated by Marcia Falk provide a profound example (with the male lover’s voice in italics):

The sound of my lovercoming from the hillsquickly, like a deerupon the mountains
Now at my windows,walking by the walls,here at the latticeshe calls—
Come with me,my love,come away
For the long wet months are past,the rains have fed the earthand left it bright with blossoms
Birds wing in the low sky,dove and songbird singingin the open air above
Earth nourishing tree and vinegreen fig and tender grape,green and tender fragrance
Come with me,my love,come away

The woman’s deep sense of urgency crashes into the joy and abandon of new spring in the voice of her beloved. The line between beloved and the wider creation blurs together in the man’s mind.

A few verses later in 2:15 we hear, “Catch us the foxes, the little foxes, that ruin the vineyards for our vineyards are in blossom.” Is this the chorus speaking, “the daughter’s of Jerusalem,” critiquing the lovers for some sort of unsanctioned love? Perhaps! Could this be the voice of the lovers as they recklessly run through the vineyards of Jerusalem awash in moonlight? Perhaps! Could this be the lovers worrying about getting caught in an act of unsanctioned love but recklessly running through the vineyards of Jerusalem awash in moonlight anyway? Perhaps! The fact of the matter is that the text is not clear about who is speaking, and unless we assume its author or compiler made a mistake or wanted to provide future readers with some secret type of meaning, it seems pertinent to admit that the text simply doesn’t need to make a distinction. When “drunk with love,” lines blur, even at times between “self” and “other,”  while seemingly conflicting thoughts, emotions and experiences crash together, only to reemerge anew.

Being “drunk with love” also indicates a type of love that defies traditional lines of categorization. Grammatically speaking, the word ‘love’ in Song of Songs 5:1 is translated from dod, a rarely used root properly meaning “to boil.” Yet in the same verse the male character calls his beloved both achot or “sister” and kalla, a word usually translated as “bride,” but based off a primitive root that indicates a sense of completion, destruction or consummation. The Song of Song’s sense of a nuptial couple being drunk with a love that is beyond categorization reflects the world of our experience, doesn’t it? All this business about drinking wine with milk and eating honeycomb with honey in the earlier portion of Song 5:1 is sometimes read as an act (or dreamt about act) of oral sex. If one has engaged in that sort of thing with a committed, longterm, beloved partner, could one read Song 5:1 as a description of oral sex? Sure, although the use of garden imagery creates enough mental space to also read it otherwise. Could that same person read it only as a description of oral sex? Absolutely not! When “drunk with love,” different senses of love and acts of love and memories of love mix and meld, embracing each other beyond classification. In the midst of sex with one’s beloved, at least sometimes, memories from many years of friendship, or the beauty and the struggle of building a life and family together flood into one’s mind. Or perhaps the dog wakes up and starts barking outside one’s bedroom door. Is the nuptial couple’s moment of sexual passion over? Maybe, but a sense of desire remains, the beloved embrace other, look into each other’s eyes, shrug it off, and going on loving anyway (and probably fight over who has to get up to let the dog out).

The idea of being “drunk with love” might sound like all sunshine and roses, but it’s not, as Beyoncé’s “XO” helped me explore. “Drunk with love” isn’t the love of Disney or the “happily ever after” situation portrayed in many conservative Christian appeals about God leading one into a blissful marriage with a perfectly special someone. To be “drunk with love” also means to contend with great struggle, fear and loss. Hearing Beyoncé sing the lyrics “oh, baby, take me, before they turn the lights out, before our time has run out,” I couldn’t help but think of what my parents must have experienced as a couple when my mother was dying of lung cancer at a young age. To be “drunk with love,” no matter at what age or in what state of health sometimes means looking into the eyes of your beloved and saying, “I don’t ever want you to die,” yet all the while knowing your time with your beloved, at least in this life, is fleeting. In this way there is an unmistakable sense of urgency to being “drunk with love,” as reflected throughout the Song of Songs, but most poignantly in its final verse: “Make haste, my beloved, and be like a gazelle, or a young stag upon the mountains of spices!” (Song 8:14).

There is another sense of death in being “drunk with love” as well: at least at times, one dies within one’s beloved. As the Song puts it, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” (Song 6:3). Remember as well, what the man calls his beloved in Song 5: kalla, while translated as “bride,” its primitive root indicates completion, destruction and consummation. Beyoncé references this quite simply: “You kill me boy, XO.” Sometimes to die within one’s beloved is a joyous experience. Life feels like it has more meaning when “drunk with love,” and when one feels weak, one can lean on the strength of the beloved. One learns and grows in such a relationship, becoming a better person through the experience. Yet at other times, to die within one’s beloved hurts or is downright scary. What if the relationship doesn’t work out after years of commitment? What if one’s beloved feels called to move across the country, many hours away from one’s friends, family and career? As a less drastic and more everyday example, what parts of one’s identity (or at least the full expression thereof) are lost in negotiating the nuptial relationship? I cherish the seven Bob Dylan posters I have hanging up in my room for instance, having started the practice in high school of collecting one at each of his concerts I’ve attended. When I marry my beloved and share a bedroom, she’s already told me we’ll be switching to more “mature” decor, and furthermore that I have no say in the matter. This isn’t the end of the world of course, but it is less than ideal. As I look forward to gazing up at a picture of Great Aunt Blahdeblah and a bunch of flowery chachkas through hopefully many years of nuptial love, a little bit of me dies inside, but just a little bit :).

As both the world of our experience and the world of the Song affirms, no matter how deeply one is “drunk with love,” at times one’s beloved will feel distant. On a simple level, you might be half a world away from your beloved for professional reasons, and she or he can’t understand the darn internet isn’t quite up to American standards. More significant problems can exist in the nuptial relationship however, no matter how much a couple may be “drunk with love.” Perhaps you’re in close proximity physically, but worlds apart on an important life decision. The drunkenness of nuptial love may even feel like it’s dried up, sometimes for months or years even, only to be rekindled by an unexpected event. The world of the Song shows us that despite a nuptial couple being “drunk with love,” distance can creep in, and often frustratingly so: “Upon my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer” (Song 3:1).

In contrast to the deep mutuality of love indicated throughout most of the Song, the woman’s beloved withdraws a second time, this time with seemingly devastating consequences:

I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had turned and was gone. My soul failed me when he spoke. I sought him, but did not find him; I called him, but he gave no answer. Making their rounds in the city the sentinels found me; they beat me, they wounded me, they took away my mantle, those sentinels of the walls. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, tell him this: I am faint with love (Song 5:6-8)

Little else in the Song seems to indicate a neglectful aspect to the male character, but reading from a context when violence against women is one of the most pervasive problems in our society, its proves difficult not to stand in judgement of the text here. The woman may be dreaming in this passage, we can’t be sure, but if we stay within the world of the text itself, there are other possibilities? If this passage were not included in the wider text, on one level, the Song’s image of nuptial love wouldn’t ring true to the world we live in, as there would be no real societal cost… the Song would just end up being a much prettier version of Disney. We give up a lot when we engage in nuptial relationships. Having a family often lowers one’s standard of living, climbing the career ladder is sometimes put on hold—coming from an American context, the United States is sinfully one of only a handful of countries without nationally mandated paid parental leave from work (included both maternal and paternal leave). I immensely dislike the Song’s use of a violent act against the woman as an image, I can’t help but stand in judgement of the text on this one, yet at the same time, from within the imperfect world of the Bible, it serves to make a point—being “drunk with love” often comes with immense societal costs.

As the Song of Songs, the world of our experience and even Beyoncé all indicate, despite the many movements from deep, joyful presence to wrenching distance from one’s beloved and back again, being “drunk with love” is still typically worth it. Amidst this love, emotions, memories and even identities crash together only to explode apart again, making something brilliantly new. There isn’t much else in the capacity of human experience that’s as painful as being “drunk with love,” but there isn’t much else that's as joyful either. Furthermore, there isn’t much else that’s harder to describe, at least in an academic or analytical sort of way. Being “drunk with love” is simply beyond classification, and getting back to Ricœur’s otherwise brilliant analysis, that’s where his problem lies. It’s probably where the weakness of this paper lies too, although I’ve tried to strike the least academic tone and approach possible. The experience of being “drunk with love,” and thus the ancient Song that so perfectly describes it, simply go beyond the realm academic understanding. No degree or ordination, no number of books or knowledge of biblical history can fully advance one’s appreciation for both its profound wisdom and tempestuous power.

Perhaps the greatest strength of the Song then is how it acts as a great equalizing force in the world of the Bible. As I mentioned earlier, the Song of Song floats above divisions of sacred and secular, towards a more holistic understanding of God’s work in the world, an understanding equally accessible to Bible scholars and first time readers, to believers and non-believers alike. Deeply experiencing the world of the Song only requires one thing: to love. In this way, as a person of faith I can approach the most vehement of atheists and say, “Ya know that feeling you got looking into your spouse’s eyes on your wedding day? Ya know that feeling you got in the hospital waiting room when the doctor came in and announced you had a newborn baby girl? Ya know that feeling you got when you made love, couldn’t hold your beloved tighter and couldn’t help but cry? That feeling is pretty much like how I experience the love of my God.” Now that atheist might not agree with the source of your experience, and that’s okay, but by golly, he will know what you mean.

When one does read the Song of Songs through the eyes of faith, one cannot help but know something of God’s “drunken love” for humanity as well. Despite his decidedly allegorical approach, one of my favorite theologians Saint Gregory of Nyssa describes this point quite eloquently:

Once the bridegroom has addressed her spouse, the Song offers the bride’s companions the mystery of the Gospel saying: “Eat, my companions, and drink, be inebriated, my brethren” [Song 5:1]. To the person familiar with the Gospel’s mystic words, there is no difference between this sentence and the words applied to the disciples’ mystic initiation: in both cases it says “Eat and drink” [Mt 26:26-27]. The bride’s exhortation to her friends seems to have more weight than those in the Gospel. If anyone carefully examines both texts, he will find the Song’s words to be in agreement with the Gospel, for the word addressed to the companions is brought to fruition in the Gospel. All inebriation makes the mind overcome with wine go into ecstasy. Therefore, what the Song enjoins as then and always, this food and drink contains a constant change and ecstasy from a worse to a better condition.

When carefully read through the eyes of Christian faith, how could the words “Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love” not work on us, making us know of God’s outpouring of immeasurable love? As promised, Christ shows up again and again and again for us in the Eucharist, in His invitation to eat and drink as we pray His prayer that we may taste and see the love of God. And we do, and in that food and drink, as Gregory of Nyssa so beautifully puts it, we come to know “a constant change and ecstasy from a worse to a better condition.”

Now to be fair, despite helping come up with the Nicene Creed and all, ol’ Saint Gregory didn’t get things quite right all the time—he goes on to talk about the Song teaching us to stay away from the “passions of the body” and the like. When we put our world of experience in dialogue with the world of the Bible in faith however, we know that while the “passions of the body” are often destructive, that isn’t always the case. Christ tell us in Matthew 22 that the love of our beloved is like, albeit in an imperfect sense, the love of God. Although we’re a wholly broken creation, Genesis 1:27 proclaims that we’re still created in our God’s image. How then could we not know something of God’s love for us, however imperfect, through the trusting, longterm, committed and at times sexually expressed nuptial love of our beloved? Furthermore, as the world of the Bible works to form our life of faith, we can also move past all the tired, legalistic and overly simplistic arguments (sometimes on both sides) regarding issues like sex before marriage. Is a sexual relationship still most fully expressed within the security and public affirmation of marriage? For all sorts of reasons, both practical and spiritual, and when legally and/ or ecclesiastically possible, absolutely! Is marriage the only deciding factor for a person of faith regarding sex? The image of a committed, mutual, and partnered nuptial love within the Song of Songs provides a significantly more nuanced approach to such an important question.

There are of course plenty of other lessons we can learn about the love of God from the Song of Songs, many significantly more important than how we should lead our sex lives. First of all, while God seriously loves humanity, and indeed all of Her creation, that love need not always be expressed in a serious way! Have you ever been to a zoo? God created the anteater, and the baboon and even the blobfish! Seriously… google the blobfish right now! As God acts and creates and dances in Her mighty and constant works of love, She clearly has a sense of humor at times. Much like Beyoncé signing the “XO” in front of thousands of her fans or the two beloved’s romp through the vineyards however, God’s many acts of love are always profound. God’s love furthermore, isn’t easily defined or categorized. All this business one hears preached from the pulpit so often about God loving us in only the “agape” sense is mere poppycock. As the Song of Songs teaches us (and the Incarnation does too, by the way), God deeply desires and yearns for Her children, reflecting the Greek “eros” sense of love as well. The man refers to his beloved in Song as achot, and in this way the “philia” or familial sense of love is also present. God does indeed promise to walk with us, and in fact to carry us through the many struggles of life, and isn’t there the notion of a loving sister or brother present in such a relationship? Similarly to the experience of being “drunk with love” in the Song of Songs, the love of God is wholly beyond classification.

Finally, the Song of Songs also lets us know what a life of loving God entails… and on one level, it’s not all good news. Loving God comes with great struggle. We sacrifice of ourselves, we sing God’s praises, we hear Her Word and partake in Her Meal, we try throw ourselves into God’s loving arms in moments of great despair and joy alike, but at times, just like the woman in the Song, we still may not feel God’s presence. At other times we might know God loves us, but just like the woman in the Song, God doesn’t seem anywhere to be found. And much like the man’s experience of his beloved’s locked garden (and let’s ignore the obvious sexual allusion of that passage for the time being), we might know God loves us, we might even know exactly where to find Her, but still, we just can’t seem to find our way in. Loving God comes with great cost, it always does, as we die to ourselves each and every day in the waters of baptism. We get hurt, we get lost, we get bruised and broken living a life of love, and we’re not always good at it either. Loving God is never easy, but as we know through a faithful reading of the Song of Songs, sometimes, especially in those very moments when we’re “drunk with love,” romping through the vineyards (or dancing on skeeball machines at Coney Island), loving God is incredibly joyful, and meaningful and beautiful and profound and lighthearted and passionate and frankly, the best damn feeling in the world. XO.

Works Cited

Beyoncé. “XO.” YouTube. http://youtu.be/3xUfCUFPL-8 (accessed May 9, 2014).

Lacocque, André and Paul Ricœur. Thinking biblically: exegetical and hermeneutical studies. 

Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.

Leahey, Andrew. “Beyoncé - Biography.” Billboard. http://www.billboard.com/artist/281569/

beyonce/biography (accessed May 9, 2014).

Nyssa, Gregory of. Commentary on the Song of Songs. trans. Casimir McCambley. Brookline, 

MA: Hellenic College Press, 1987.

Strong’s Hebrew and Chaldee Dictionary of the Old Testament. Public domain, in Accordance 

Bible Software, version 8.4, CD-ROM. OakTree Software, 2009.

Dustin is a recent graduate from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia and approved candidate for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. An evangelist, urban gardener, mountain climber, community organizer, saint and sinner, Dustin spends most of his professional time wrestling with God and proclaiming liberation in Christ. Otherwise, Dustin likes hiking, playing frisbee, hanging out with an amazing woman named Jessie and pretending to know how to sing.

Recovering Christian Mysticism through Interfaith Conversation

What follows is a reflection I wrote following my conversation with Dennis Hunter, a Buddhist writer I met last year in New York City. You can check out Dennis's writing here. This writing derives from an assignment I recently completed for a "Scriptures of the World" course at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. I'm more and more thinking about how all sorts of powerful spiritual/ mystical practices have been neglected by the Lutheran theological tradition, and how important it is to recover such practices. Interfaith conversation with our Buddhist sisters and brothers, it seems, can help greatly in this regard. What are your thoughts? I'd love to receive some feedback and thanks for reading!

I met Dennis Hunter, a Vajrayana Buddhist writer, roughly a year ago on a Sunday afternoon while on internship in New York City. Dennis and I struck up a conversation regarding his own Buddhist practice and the similarity of various forms of Christian mysticism, particularly the work of Thomas Merton. A year later while in New York for the annual United Nations Commission on the Status of Women, I got in touch with Dennis about engaging in further dialogue around his use of scripture and how this informs his daily practice. While we were not able to meet in person, we were able have a roughly forty minute phone conversation. Coming from my own past experiences as a nominal Buddhist in college and my growing interest in Christian mysticism, I thought Dennis brought up some profound points that will greatly influence how I engage both Christian and non-Christian scriptures as I minister in our increasingly pluralistic, globalized age.

We began our conversation speaking about the basics of Buddhist scripture, highlighting how sacred texts have continued to multiply across the centuries since adding to the canon (if one could even use this term in Buddhism) is much less problematic than in Christianity. Different schools of Buddhism also hold different collections of texts as sacred. The Theravada school focuses primarily on the tripitaka texts, which are considered the Buddha’s earliest teachings, while Mahayana states the Buddha went through multiple stages of teachings and thus considers additional texts canonical, including the well-known Diamond Sutra and Heart Sutra. Finally, Vajrayana (the school Dennis most closely ascribes to) sees the Buddha as having “turned the world of dharma three times” through his teachings and thus ascribes to additional texts that speak of the inherent “Buddha nature” of all beings that lies beneath the many layers of dharma that obscure reality. In this way, a central notion of Buddha nature is that you only need to become what you already are. While this large library of texts, along with secondary and tertiary commentary, is considered sacred and literally placed on the altars of many Buddhist temples, at least in Vajrayana a practitioner’s direct relationship with the scripture often takes a secondary place to her or his personal relationship with a guru.

We also dove into some fascinating conversation around the ethics/ moral implications of our respective scriptural teachings, which Dennis also supplemented later on by sending me a blog post he wrote on the subject. In his view, Buddhist ethics can be boiled down to three basic tenets: refraining from causing harm (to self or others), practicing virtue (doing good or creating benefit) and taming/ training the mind completely. Dennis also stressed that the ethical teachings of his scriptures are not the commandments of a sovereign, creator God but are rather common-sense principles that can be tested in everyday life. Actions cannot be classified in a simple right/wrong dichotomy in the Buddhist ethical system, but are rather shaped by an individual’s intentions and circumstances. These three basic tenets are further refined through various Buddhist interpretations of the Eightfold Noble Path, Ten Virtuous/ Non-Virtuous Actions and (especially for lay individuals) the Five Precepts: refraining from killing, refraining from stealing, refraining from sexual misconduct, refraining from wrong speech and refraining from abuse of intoxicants.

Conversation with Dennis concerning the ethical implications of Buddhist scriptural teachings in my mind convicts Christianity’s traditional use of the Bible to construct its moral systems, and perhaps clarifies where we are moving as a Church in the future. Although certainly not universal in Christian teaching (both Luther’s Small Catechism and Large Catechism work somewhat differently, for instance), in general practice the Bible’s ethical teachings are understood as simply commanded by God and therefore are to be unquestionably followed. The theological principle that “through faith Christ frees us from the law” allows Christians not only to get around some of God’s more difficult commandments (very few Christians are walking around without eyes and teeth) but also leads most Christians to utterly abandon those difficult texts as sources of revelation. Furthermore, when those in power have decided that certain commandments should be followed in a way that oppresses others, the results have been devastating: a historical refusal to ordain women and condonation slavery, as well as the ongoing condemnation of sexual minorities.

As a Christian I still believe that the Bible’s ethical teachings have been inspired by a sovereign, creator God. At the same time, I firmly hold to the notion that Biblical ethics should still play out as common sense principals that can be tested in everyday life and contribute to human liberation, a practice that from my perspective would be considered subjecting Biblical morality to the love of Christ. While my own faith community, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has improved a great deal in recent years on its understanding of Biblical ethics, perhaps we could consider something that is still controversial as an example: sexual relations before marriage. Interpreted through the love of Christ, throughout most of human history the Bible’s prohibition of sex before marriage could be taken at face value. In a time without modern contraceptives and without two now identified life stages (adolescence and young adulthood), this teaching works partially as a women’s rights issue, as having a society filled young, single mothers without familial support does not make common sense, nor contribute to human liberation. In our contemporary world, insisting two young adults in a loving, long-term monogamous relationship who can barely find jobs should either spend their meager resources on two rent checks (in an attempt to avoid sexual temptation) or rush into a marriage they simply cannot afford, does not make common sense nor contribute to human liberation. Rather, interpreted through the love of Christ in this specific case, Biblical ethics regarding human sexuality would rather indicate focusing on the sacredness of human sexuality and its power to distract one from relationship with God and to harm other people if abused, whether or not the couple decided to live together.

The second half of our conversation focused almost exclusively on the role scriptures have played in religious syncretism. Dennis explained how whenever Buddhism has entered a new culture throughout its long history, a new school of Buddhism and a corresponding new set of canonical texts has eventually formed. As primary examples, the Mahayana and Vajrayana schools formed as the Buddhism expanded into new parts of Asia and incorporated some aspects of Taoism, Confucianism, Shinto, and other local belief systems/ cultural characteristics. Now that Buddhism has to a great extent permeated Western thinking, there is conversation within Buddhism around what might next take shape. Indeed, as Dennis greatly emphasized, never before in the history of the world have things moved so fast and never have folks been exposed to such diverse ideas at once. While many argue Western Buddhism will primarily incorporate aspects of psychotherapy and modern science, Dennis tends to focus on how various aspects of Christianity might be incorporated as well.

In particular, there is a wealth of Christian mystical literature (some accepted by orthodoxy and some deemed “heretical”) that while largely unknown to most Western Christians (and especially Protestants), may provide great insight and revelation. Dennis once again briefly cited the writing of the 20th century Roman Catholic mystic Thomas Merton, but also spoke of an older text I had never heard of before, an anonymous work from the fourteenth century called the Cloud of Unknowing. I brought up how I was in the midst of studying the Philokalia, a collection of writings by Eastern Church mystics still read by many Orthodox believers. Dennis also discussed his interest in early Gnostic Christian writings largely excluded from the canonical Bible. In his view, many of these texts were likely deemed too empowering and thus dangerous by the Christian fathers, because if one could achieve salvation on their own, why would you still need the Church? We concluded our conversation by discussing how both the Buddha and Jesus intended for us to achieve salvation, and that the mystic tradition of both faiths may provide a strong foundation for future interfaith exploration.

My conversation with Dennis will greatly influence how I engage both Christian and non-Christian scriptures as I minister in our increasingly pluralistic, globalized age. In learning about his use and interpretation of the moral teachings in Buddhist scriptures, I was able to reconsider and better characterize my own use and interpretation of Biblical ethics. Our discussion around mysticism was also extremely helpful. Coming from my own Lutheran theological tradition, I will always be grounded in both the canonical Bible texts and the central tenets of Lutheran theology, especially “justification by faith” and “theology of the cross.” It in fact proceeds from our theology of the cross that we must humbly recognize all human creations, including religious systems, as imperfect. Such humility calls us to engage both the scriptures and believers of other faiths, both as part of our calling to love our neighbor but also in order to learn more about ourselves. Such humility also calls us to explore those Christian texts historically deemed “heretical,” for much the same reasons. Finally, such humility calls us (especially as Protestants) to carefully rediscover the rich mystical traditions of our faith that the Reformation sought largely to suppress. While I cannot help but hold to the core tenets of my Lutheran tradition, I can also recognize that other faiths and their respective scriptures may help answer questions my tradition simply does not focus upon. Such exploration and conversation can lead to both a more spiritually rich life and closer relationship between myself, the folks in my Christian congregations, and our neighbors of many faiths.

God's peace,

Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Advocacy, the MDGs and the Power of Stories

What follows is a cross-post of a piece I wrote earlier today for Ecumenical Women at the United Nations, an organization for which I serve as Communications Coordinator. Throughout the next two weeks we'll be sharing stories and other reflections from our organization's many delegates to the 58th Commission on the Status of Women which opened today at UN Headquarters in New York City. To hear powerful stories from our many delegates form around the world, please check out Ecumenical Women's website here.

This past Saturday at Ecumenical Women's Orientation Day for the United Nations 58th Commission on the Status of Women (CSW), I was honored to give two brief workshops about advocacy, the Millennium Development Goals, and the power of sharing stories. We had extremely powerful conversations in both workshops that opened up a bunch of new insights for me about how the sharing of stories relates to Christian witness and working to end gender inequalities. Most importantly, folks got to share how they had used stories in their own local contexts to organize against gender injustice and accompany other girls and women in processes of liberation. Hopefully we all picked up a few new ideas and were able to share something from our own stories as well. As the crazy, awesome energy that is CSW swarms around me, I figured it'd take a quick break and briefly outline what we talked about. Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear any feedback you might have.

We began by talking about the power and use of stories in the Christian tradition... how Jesus used stories and how we organize our Christian community around the story that is Christ death and hope-bringing resurrection over the worst of human sin. The group then got into discussion around one of Jesus' stories, a parable not regularly heard in many of our congregations called "The Parable of the Growing Seed:

He also said, ‘The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come" (Mark 4: 26 - 29).

Many participants offered interpretations about how this parable related to their advocacy work... some talked about the frustration of spreading seeds and not seeing how they grow into justice. Others talked about the joy when they do succeed in their work. One woman contributed a great interpretation, that she was not the person scattering seed but rather a seed itself. God was helping her grow and change into her calling as she engaged in advocacy work. We next watched part of the following film from Participate, an organization that is bringing the perspective of the world's most marginalized people into the debate about what will follow the Millennium Development Goals in 2015:



While Participate is primarily a secular organization, it's amazing about how their approach reflects the best of the Christian liberation theology tradition, which believes that Christ chooses to especially locate Himself in the lives of those who are most marginalized in the world, whether it be by poverty or other forms of oppression. The lives of oppressed people then serve as sources of revelation, and thus, prove the main source of liberation from whatever or whoever may oppress them. With this in mind, folks and organizations like the Church cannot simply swoop in and "make things better" in a patriarchal manner, but rather should simply accompaniment those living under oppression in their walk toward liberation, using whatever privilege they may have to amplify those voices who are not currently being listened to by decision makers. Furthermore, the global Church is likely the organization that in practical terms has the most direct contact with those living under oppression, including girls and women. The Church (and we as Christians) are therefore called to accompany oppressed individuals in are local communities as they seek to free themselves. After we discussed this concept, I highlighted two platforms through which the United Nations is providing an avenue for increased participation in evaluating the Millennium Development Goals, the World We Want 2015 platform and the MYWorld global survey of priorities for global development.

Whether it pertains to the MDGs or otherwise, amplifying the voices of those living under oppression is important in any community organizing or advocacy effort, whether on a local or global scale. Thus, we spent the second half of the workshop discussing how we had used stories in our local contexts. We heard about the power of stories in combat human trafficking. We heard about the power of stories in helping women reclaiming their lives after being victims of domestic violence. We heard about the power of stories in helping women discern how to interpret privilege and oppression. We heard about the power of stories in helping women gain access to education and sexual/ reproductive health services. At once point, one participant stated that "silence kills" when trying to overcome various forms of oppression. I couldn't agree more, and I feel extremely grateful for being able to hear the stories of all who participated. What an amazing experience, and I look forward to hearing and sharing more stories throughout the week.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. Recently approved for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Wailing at the Western Wall

What follows is a final piece I wrote on my recent ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan, Palestine and Israel. The intention of our trip was to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while also working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. I've debated for quite a while about whether or not to post this piece, as it's a bit personal and difficult, but in the end I decided that it may be helpful in illustrating the difficult emotions and ambiguities that come with experiencing the Israeli occupation of Palestine first hand. I'd love to hear what you think, and thanks for reading.


Journal Entry | January 15, 2014

I'm now sitting near the Western Wall in Old City Jerusalem and just burst into tears. Let me explain. This place exhibits a profound sense of the sacred... contrary to what I've heard about the Western Wall in the past, most of the folks here don't seem to be mourning the destruction of the Second Temple at all but in fact are celebrating... it's really loud and joyful... Bar Mitzvahs are taking place all around me. The exuberant, celebratory sacredness of this place stands in stark contrast but feels equally sacred to the quiet, profound experience we just had in the Dome of the Rock and the solemness of al-Aqsa Mosque atop the Haram al-Sharif/ Temple Mount. Both the Jewish and Muslim holy sites similarly contrast with the equally sacred manic swarm of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher we visited a few days ago, where its easy to bump into someone penitently praying and kissing a sacred slab of stone only to turn around mess up some tourist's photo, all the while coughing yet strangely also appreciating the massive amount of incense.

All these holy sites prove equally sacred, all in their own unique way that's characteristic of their respective faiths. Yet, I can't help but crying. I can't help but crying because no matter how hard I try to sit and take in this sacred experience, the image of that case of spent bullets in the al-Aqsa Mosque, kept in memorial from when Ariel Sharon entered the Haram al-Sharif and set off the Second Intifada, is still burning in my mind. I can't help but crying because no matter how much my theological training might characterize it differently, I can't help but feel angry at God for passively letting Her children fight, betray and simply ignore one another over this place rather than joyfully sharing the unique sacredness I've experienced at all three faiths' holy sites this week. I feel angry at God for letting many of Her Christian children in America either ignore or actively work against the efforts of their Palestinian Christian sisters and brothers. I feel angry at God for letting some of Her Jewish children mix a rabid form of 19th century nationalism with their faith in a way that leads to the horrific oppression of Palestinians. I feel angry at God for letting a small radical minority of her Muslim children maim and kill in the name of their Creator while also providing a pretext for letting the occupation continue. Could God have revealed Herself in slightly different ways that would not have led to such a tragedy? I'm not sure, but I'm pretty pissed off anyway. And so I cry. I cry and angrily pray and write because I don't know what else to do. Damn glad I wore my sunglasses.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. Recently approved for ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Sermon: How "An Eye for An Eye, A Tooth for a Tooth" is Gospel

Hey friends!

So I just got done preaching in midday chapel at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia where I'm in my last semester. What follows is a rough manuscript of my sermon, which was on Leviticus 24: 10-23 & Matthew 7: 1-12. I'd love to hear what you think.

So this past Tuesday I wasn’t in the best of spirits… I was stricken with cabin fever after being pretty much constantly snowed in over the last weeks, I had a bad cold, a bit of a sore throat and to top it all off, I was absolutely terrified about what this week’s assignment process might hold in store for me. After debating whether to go to class that evening, I did what any logical sick person would do and decided the best course of action would be to get in my car, head to CVS, get a fresh supply of cough syrup, get some ice-cream for dinner and then tough it out, heading to class with a soothed throat, full belly and cheered spirits. I hadn’t driven my car in a few days and thus knew it would be pretty snowed in, but the proud rugged New Englander in me figured I could dig myself out with no problem. After about twenty minutes of shoveling and chopping what turned out to be mostly ice and not snow I thought I was all set. I smugly got behind the wheel, turned the key, put my car in reverse and didn’t move an inch. Keeping my cool of course… I’m a proud, rugged New Englander after all, I got out, chopped at the ice a bit more, threw a piece of cardboard I had in my trunk under one of my front tires, got back in my car, turned the key, put the car in reverse, and once again, didn’t move an inch. After repeating this a third and fourth time, I started to get angry, was no longer thinking, and did exactly what I knew you’re not supposed to do in these situations… I gunned the engine, simply dug myself deeper into the ice.

Exasperated, I gunned the engine again, and then a third time, all the while digging myself even further into the ice, feeling more and more angrily self righteous that I could get myself out of this situation, even to the point that when a neighbor eventually came out to help me, I initially refused. She continued to press me, and eventually I conceded to let her give me a push and put some branches from her old Christmas tree under my car tires for increased traction. Around this same time, another woman came out of the train station across the street, got in her four-wheel drive truck that was parked next to mine, and only to immediately get stuck in the ice as well. Now I got really pissed off… if this woman couldn’t get out with four wheel drive, what hope did I have? And well… I absolutely gave up. I figured forget getting my ice-cream dinner, and going to class… I’m just going to go home, lay sick in bed, and wait a couple days for the darn ice to melt. And knowing my luck this week, I started figuring I’d be assigned somewhere deep in that scary part of the country frequently called the Midwest.

So I gave up, I stormed home, barely thanking the woman who tried to help me and not even thinking to help the other woman get her truck out of the ice. I gave up and went home cold, exhausted and defeated. Yet, after getting in the door and walking up the stairs, I felt an utter surge of hope. I felt a surge of hope because none other than my amazing housemate Doug Hjelmstad was home. Now, I think all of us recognize that if there is anyone on this campus that could help get a car out of the ice, it would be that rock solid, harder than the granite of the White Mountains, rugged New Hampshirite himself, Doug Hjelmstad. So, I asked Doug for help, and of course he quickly went downstairs, quietly puts on his coat, got a pry-bar out of his toolbox and headed out to my car. I followed him, grabbing a dead potted plant on the way thinking the dirt in it might be somehow of use, and we got back to work. Except, while Doug was hacking away at the ice under my tires, I felt pretty useless and kind of embarrassed so I decided to help the woman in the truck who was also still sitting there, spinning her wheels, stuck in the ice. By now one of her friend’s had come to help too.

No matter how much we tried to push the truck or put dirt under the tires, this woman still couldn’t get out of the ice. But right as we were about to give up, Doug took a break from hacking away and comes over, turns some sort of knob on each of the woman’s front tires, the four-wheel drive engages and only a few seconds later, she was freed from the ice. I immediately made a joke about how Doug and I are seminarians and that we’ve been blessed, etc. The woman and her friend actually get kind of excited they’re hanging out with almost clergy, were sort of almost having this mini worship service in the middle of the street but then they insist to try at least try one more time to get my car out of the ice too. So now, probably two hours after I originally intended, I get behind the wheel, turn the key, put the car in reverse, and with Doug, the woman with the truck, and her friend pushing, I slowly backed my way out of the ice. I backed my way out of the ice, put the car in drive, and immediately felt joy. I immediately felt joy.

So, why do I tell this fairly long story? I tell it not to simply to talk about myself, although it may seem it since I’m so long winded. I tell it not to simply proclaim my main homie Doug Hjelmstad is a modern day ice messiah, although let’s admit it, he’s not far off. Most importantly, and this may surprise you…. I don’t tell this story to necessarily proclaim some sort of ethics for humankind… I’m not simply trying to illustrate how this “do unto others as you would have done unto you” business Jesus proclaims to us today in the gospel, which is given a pretty way to go about things, played out in some cute story about getting out of the ice. Rather, I tell this story to show how both Jesus’ reference to the Golden Rule and even the more difficult principle of “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” in today’s Leviticus reading, aren’t just meant to be law, they’re not just meant to be rules God provides us to regulate human relationships on Earth or to scare us toward embracing the gospel. Sometimes, much like the difficult situation I had with my car a couple days ago, the Golden Rule and “an eye for an eye” work like gospel too. They’re gospel, because they remind us quite simply that our lives aren’t just about us in the end. They remind us, as MLK put it, that “we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” If you look in the Talmud, “an eye for an eye” is rarely interpreted literally, its rather taken as a limit on how much someone could be punished for a proven transgression. If we ask ourselves what an extremely difficult part of today’s Leviticus texts might tell us about God, we realize even the stoning of that dude is meant to indicate how God, the people of Israel and even foreigners are amazingly interconnected. Nor was Jesus coming up with anything really new when he proclaimed the Golden Rule… it’s sort of in Leviticus 19, and only a generation before Jesus, the great Jewish sage Hillel pretty much said the same thing in summing up the Torah, as have the great sages of most other religions, many centuries older than Christianity.

When my car pulled off that ice and I was freed to drive away, I felt joy, but I didn’t feel joy simply because I could now go get my cough syrup and ice-cream dinner. In the midst of a week that felt like it was all about me, worrying over everything I’ve and said wrote in recent months to hopefully stay in the Northeast, bumming about me getting all sick, I felt joy in being humbly reminded that I couldn’t do it on my own, no matter how much I spun my wheels, no matter how hard I tried. I felt joy. And I believe that our texts today and situations like I had on Tuesday can be gospel, not just law… my experience was a humble reminder that it wasn’t all about me, that my life was inescapably linked with God and neighbor, and in some sense then, that I could let go, falling into God’s loving arms of grace. And whether God meets us in bread and wine, the waters of baptism, words like the Golden Rule or even "an eye for an eye" proclaimed or in the face of neighbors known and unknown simply giving us a push, my sisters and brothers it is profoundly good news that your life is not all about you either. For it is through these means, including sometimes seemingly insignificant occurrences, that our gaze is drawn outward to what is truly important, freeing us from ourselves and turning us toward the amazing work of God in Christ. Amen.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Meeting Bishop Younan and the Gospel of Meaning in Old City Jerusalem

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan, Palestine and Israel after visiting with Bishop Younan of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land at Lutheran at Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in Old City, Jerusalem. The intention of our trip was to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while also working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. You can find the writings of my fellow pilgrims on our trip blog here. This is somewhat a continuation of another recent post I wrote about Christian pilgrimage, which you can find here. Please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Just got done meeting with Bishop Younan and it was a fantastic experience... He talked about how between now and April is a key moment in the Palestine/ Israel peace process because whether or not Secretary of State Kerry succeeds in negotiating a two-state solution is going to have far reaching consequences. Bishop Younan also talked a bunch about the idea of accompaniment, that instead of the old missionary we should have a relationship of mutuality, where we share and learn from each other. He specifically said in fact, "accompaniment is the strength of the modern church."

Given how much I've learned from our meeting today, from the other ELCJHL folks we've met with (both clergy and young adults), and other groups here as well, Bishop Younan's statement couldn't be more accurate. The strength of the ELCJHL's young adult program for instance is amazing... if young Lutheran adults throughout the West Bank can be brought together regularly for regional conversations despite a myriad of checkpoints, barriers and other difficulties, perhaps there's a model there we in the ELCA could learn from.

Most importantly though was something Bishop Younan said about pilgrimage and what pilgrimage can mean to those folks who come from a secular context (like my own up in New England). Speaking specifically about groups who come from Scandinavian countries and other secular areas, he said "many people in the Lutheran world are seeking pilgrimage and to find God. People are asking why they are living." This statement really pulled on my heart strings. Throughout seminary as I've learned about how the gospel, the good news of God's work in Jesus is supposed to free troubled consciences, redeem one's soul, and stuff like that, such a message has never really hit home. I frankly don't think about my soul very much at all. I remember when I was a kid seeing scary History Channel shows about the end of the world in the year 2000, I was worried about my soul, but I don't think I've thought much about it since. I pretty much just assume my soul will be rejoined with God in some sort of heaven and I'll be fine.

I think most of my clergy or almost-clergy friends feel the same way I do, because I very rarely hear much about souls being redeemed in most Lutheran sermons. I do hear though a lot about how God loves me, no matter what... it seems like we've either unconsciously or semi-consciously arrived at the idea that God's universal love is the gospel, the good news of what God does in Jesus. Now this is an idea that does help me out, sometimes, but not often. And when I talk to folks my age, most of whom aren't religious at all and have a lot of problems with the Church, and tell them that God loves them no matter what, they generally kind of like the idea that I don't think God hates them for living with their significant others or voting for Democrats, but it still doesn't mean much.

What Bishop Younan said about existential meaning, about people asking why they are living, that really got me thinking about how I experience the gospel. When I'm told God forgives my soul, it doesn't mean much. When I'm told God loves me, that means a little something to me, but isn't news that would wake me up on a Sunday morning. There's definitely folks that such ways of framing the gospel mean a lot for, and I'm not saying we should entirely drop such language. But the idea that God is calling us, propelling us into a life of meaning in relationship with Her and Her creation? Hell yeah, that's really good news! The idea that God gives me something to do, the idea that I'm not a random assortment of atoms with little purpose, that's a truly liberating word for me, that's gospel. I also think that's the sort of gospel all folks are looking for, especially us millennials, it's the sort of gospel you definitely experience on pilgrimage to Palestine, and it's definitely the sort of gospel I intend to preach moving into the future.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

"Balance" and the Israeli Occupation of Palestine

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan and the Holy Land after coming back from occupied Hebron and the South Hebron hills a few days ago. The intention of the trip is to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. You can find the writings of my fellow pilgrims on our trip blog here. I hope you enjoy the post, and please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Whenever I engage folks back home in the states in discussion about the Israeli occupation of Palestine, the word 'balance' always seems to come into the conversation. "The conflict is complicated," folks say, "we're not experts so we should be balanced in our approach." Today as I experienced the abandoned central streets and massive military presence in Hebron that Israeli settlers have termed 'liberation," today as I heard the story of Palestinian villagers in the South Hebron hills having their bread oven, their main source food being destroyed by settlers again and again despite multiple Supreme Court rulings to the contrary, today as I heard a former IDF soldier breaking the silence about how military strategy is regularly break into random homes and detain Palestinians for up to 90 days without giving them access to a lawyer in order to "make their presence felt," I can't but cry out in anguish about what "balance" could possibly look like in such a dire situation.

Can one achieve balance in the collection of information, engaging all sides and narratives in assessing a situation? Yes, absolutely. A balanced assessment is the only way to credibly engage in advocacy. Yet at some point, balance becomes at best a hindrance and at worst an excuse for inaction. In the face of such a starkly clear situation of overwhelming oppression of the Palestinian people, to be "balanced" in one's prophetic proclamation and to neglect radical non-violent action simply proves unethical. I am not Pro-Palestinian. I am not pro-Israeli. But as a person of faith, as a Christian, I am pro-peace, I am pro-justice and I am pro-recognizing the face of Christ in all those crushed by overwhelming oppression. Perhaps there is a type of balance in that. But to be balanced or moderate in proclaiming that God's heart is breaking under this brutal occupation as my heart breaks as well? No, that is not possible.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Reclaiming True Christian Pilgrimage

I wrote the following as part of my ELCA Peace Not Walls leadership training trip to Jordan and the Holy Land while sitting atop the Mount of Beatitudes earlier this morning (with a couple slight modifications taking in experiences from later in the day). The intention of the trip is to prepare for leading future groups of young adults to the Holy Land while working for a just end to the Israeli occupation of Palestine. You can find the writings of my fellow pilgrims on our trip blog here. I hope you enjoy the post, and please provide feedback if you're able! - Dustin

Sitting atop a devotional site called the Mount of the Beatitudes and seeing the sun shining on the Sea of Galilee, I'm a feeling a bit challenged... I've been thinking a lot over the course of my trip about how true Christian pilgrimage should strengthen relationships with God and people rather than necessarily visit specific holy sites, but now I'm beginning to think it's both. I certainly lament that most Christian pilgrims visit the Holy Land without ever learning from Palestinians living under the brutally apartheid-like system of Israeli occupation, don't get me wrong... our Palestinian Christian guide recently mentioned that we were the first group in his 4+ years of giving tours who were interested in hearing the Palestinian side of the story. Yet, walking amongst the gardens of the Mount of Beatitudes and hearing the Scriptures read and discussed in so many languages, it's obvious these "holy sites" are not just dead stones for some people.

The Israeli separation wall in the background.

Rather, people really are living out lives of faith by visiting these sacred places. Perhaps what really matters then is what one does with a faith renewed on pilgrimage, what that faith moves one to do and who that faith moves one to be in relationship with. Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Land can still mean visiting the "holy sites," but it still must also mean accompanying our Palestinian sisters and brothers.

If we're to change minds back home and around the world in the hope of moving toward a just resolution of the Israeli occupation of Palestine, we need to be in relationship with Palestinians... God tends to make liberation happen within an oppressed people themselves, not through outside forces, no matter how altruistic. Our job as American Christian pilgrims is simply to learn the stories of Palestinians, raise those stories up and through those stories let God do the amazing work of liberating hearts and minds. Onto the Tabgha, the devotional site of Christ multiplying the loaves and fishes.
God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.