Blame

November 25, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

You all know this one:

{The Lord} said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you that you should not eat?”
Then the man said, “The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I ate.”
And the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?”
The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”
Genesis 3:11-13 (NKJV)

It’s the first story from the first book generally agreed upon as sacred by the world’s most populous religions. In it, people screw up and quickly sacrifice their most important relationships out of selfishness, shame, and resentment. I don’t know whether the story of Adam and Eve and their Slytherin friend actually happened; I am certain, however, that it’s true.

Don’t worry – I’m not going to go all theological on you. But whatever else the Bible is, it’s a penetrant guide to our mortal hopes, fears, and foibles. It’s the ultimate anthology of sin and salvation, leaving us to debate only the details and the extent to which it should be taken literally.

Let’s fast forward a few chapters. Turns out the “blame” theme doesn’t end with humanity’s banishment from Eden:

Sarai said to Abram, “See now, the Lord has restrained me from bearing children. Please, go in to my maid; perhaps I shall obtain children by her.” And Abram heeded the voice of Sarai. Then Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar her maid, the Egyptian, and gave her to her husband Abram to be his wife… So he went in to Hagar, and she conceived. And when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress became despised in her eyes.
Genesis 16:2-4 (NKJV)

When authors repeat a theme with minor variations, they’re trying to tell you something. Great literature does it, Broadway musicals do it, even sitcoms do it. Two stories, melodies, or wacky conflicts weave around one another, each echoing and expanding the other. The parallels between this passage and the account of mankind’s initial fall are striking – as are the differences.

The right clergyman could preach a Venn Diagram of these for a straight month.

Then Sarai said to Abram, “My wrong be upon you! I gave my maid into your embrace; and when she saw that she had conceived, I became despised in her eyes. The Lord judge between you and me.” So Abram said to Sarai, “Indeed your maid is in your hand; do to her as you please.” And when Sarai dealt harshly with {Hagar}, she fled from her presence.
Genesis 16:5-6 (NKJV)

As in the Garden, no one wanted to own their role in the problem. As in the Garden, none of those involved (among the humans, anyway) was entirely blameless or maniacally evil. Let’s be honest – hanging such pretty fruit nearby and naming it something like “Eternal Life” was just begging for the newbies to fail. And leaving Abram hanging for so many years after promising him so much? Men have certainly boinked around with less cause throughout history. Heck, IT WAS HIS WIFE’S IDEA.

In her defense, her entire value as a woman was on the line, and she’d been faithfully following his magical voices for a decade or so without payoff. Maybe it was time to give things a nudge? (You may remember an old joke about a man who waved off two boats and a helicopter because he believed God would save him from the flood. The twist is that those rather mundane earthly solutions WERE his promised salvation.)

Abram, Sarai, and Hagar all had good reason to be confused – perhaps even frustrated. But like many of us, each had difficulty owning their choices – their efficacy. Any genuine search for truth or improvement has to begin by accepting one’s own fallibility and ignorance. It takes humility to learn from mistakes – our own or those of others.

Sarai: “This is on you, Buddy!”
Abram: (*steps back*) “She’s your servant – I’m going to let you sort this out.”
Hagar: “None of this was my idea – I’m outta here.”

One last story. It’s told three separate times in the book of Genesis (chapters 12, 20, and 26) with minor variations.

Abraham (or Isaac) enters a new region and worries how he’ll be treated, especially since his wife is something of a hottie (remember, she still hasn’t had kids at this point). He tells whoever’s in charge that she’s his sister, which is apparently technically true – they’re related in some way. (Translations are tricky for stuff like this, and the original authors had other priorities than making life easy on future historians).

The king takes Sarai (or Rebekah) into his harem, which includes a waiting period during which God intervenes and punishes the entire household for – get this – not realizing they’d been lied to by the people God actually likes much better. This not only preserves the sanctity of the married couple but prevents God from raining down even more severe destruction on the victims of the deception, who are not God’s chosen favorites because they’re the wrong ethnicity and from the wrong region.

It was the Old Testament, people – they were harsher times; you get harsher gods.

But here’s where Abimelech (the deceived party in two of the three versions) approaches things somewhat differently than the protagonists and presumed heroes of the narratives. Having been confronted by God with the truth of the situation, he pleads his case to the Almighty, then takes concrete action:

So Abimelech rose early in the morning, called all his servants, and told all these things in their hearing…

Presumably this was so they could adjust their behavior based on this new information.

…and the men were very much afraid.

You think?

And Abimelech called Abraham and said to him, “What have you done to us? How have I offended you, that you have brought on me and on my kingdom a great sin? You have done deeds to me that ought not to be done.” Then Abimelech said to Abraham, “What did you have in view, that you have done this thing?”
Genesis 20:8-10 (NKJV)

It’s possible Abimelech is simply expressing his outrage. He has every reason to be chafed. But the narrator records his specific phrasing, and if we learn nothing else in English class, we’re inundated with examples of how authors love packing meaning into the subtleties of dialogue and background details.

Abimelech: “How have I offended you? Why would you do this, exactly? Seriously, that was messed up.”

It just seems like a much healthier, more direct way to confront a problem.

Abimelech: “So… best case scenario – what did you think would happen?”

I ask my kids variations of this question all the time.

Abraham’s response is typical of what we’ve already seen from the future Father of Nations:

And Abraham said, “Because I thought, surely the fear of God is not in this place; and they will kill me on account of my wife. But indeed she is truly my sister. She is the daughter of my father, but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife. And it came to pass, when God caused me to wander from my father’s house, that I said to her, ‘This is your kindness that you should do for me: in every place, wherever we go, say of me, “He is my brother.” ’ ”

In other words…

Abraham: “It was because of you people…”

Combined with…

“And besides, technically…”

Topped off with…

Abraham: “This was all God’s idea. I’d still be back in Ur chillin’.”

Abimelech’s response is interesting.

Then Abimelech took sheep, oxen, and male and female servants, and gave them to Abraham; and he restored Sarah his wife to him. And Abimelech said, “See, my land is before you; dwell where it pleases you” …
So Abraham prayed to God; and God healed Abimelech, his wife, and his female servants. Then they bore children; for the Lord had closed up all the wombs of the house of Abimelech because of Sarah, Abraham’s wife.
Genesis 20:14-18 (NKJV)

There was no extended rationalizing about what happened – no recorded complaints about the completely bogus way accountability was doled out – no lingering bitterness over the cost or headache. Abimelech had a kingdom to think of – a people to lead. He couldn’t afford to be defensive or small because he had responsibilities. Relationships. A role to fulfill.

I may infer too much, but Abimelech sounds like someone comfortable enough with who and what he is that he has little use for blame. Honesty, sure. Accountability, absolutely. But finger-pointing and petty denials? Nope. Sorry. More important things to do.

Even when he’s the one getting screwed over – unlike, say, Adam. Or Sarai. Or Abraham.

I think there’s a lesson here for classroom leadership and our relationships with difficult students, peers, or parents. I fear there’s a much larger lesson regarding my approach to society and politics.

If I’m comfortable with who I am and what I’m doing, what does that change about how I confront criticism? Opposition? Betrayal? Confusion? Is the priority fulfilling my role or defending my record? When should we pursue more complete accountability and when is it best to simply say, “here’s what I’ve got; dwell where it pleases you”?

I’m not sure I know enough to be more specific or better gage the extent to which we should take such things literally, but I know it’s on my mind and that it’s probably important.

Then again, it’s not like I can help it – you’re the ones reading and egging me on. If anything, this is all your fault. Let God be the judge!

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Sargon and Eve

August 30, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Do you ever start off intending to write about one thing and no matter how much you try to stay on target, you keep shooting off an entirely different direction like a blog grocery cart full of one item and with a bad wheel (*squeak lurch squeak squeak lurch*) and although you’re desperately trying to steer back to what you set out to write about, you just… can’t – at least not until you’re so close to your max word count that there’s no point?

No?

Just me, then?

*sigh*

Figures.

I recently decided to do a series of brief bios on BlueCerealEducation.net (my effort to go semi-legit and post solely about history and pedagogy and such, minus all the swear words and political rants). There would be four, all drawn from the same They Might Be Giants song. In fact, that’s how I decided to open the first draft:

~~~~~~~

Then they wouldn’t understand a word we say, so we’ll scratch it all down into the clay, half-believing there will sometime come a day someone gives a damn – maybe when the concrete has crumbled to sand. We’re the Mesopotamians – Sargon, Hammurabi, Ashurbanipal, and Gilgamesh!
The Mesopotamish sun is beating down and making cracks in the ground, but there’s nowhere else to stand in Mesopotamia – the kingdom where we secretly reign, the land where we invisibly rule as the Mesopotamians – Sargon, Hammurabi, Ashurbanipal, and Gilgamesh!
“The Mesopotamians” (They Might Be Giants, 2007)

Mesopotamia is generally considered to be the birthplace of civilization. It’s where our ancestors first transitioned from a hunting and gathering lifestyle to a more settled, agriculturally-based sort of living. The area roughly corresponds with modern Iraq, Syria, Jordan, and Israel, forming a sort of “Fertile Crescent.” If there was a literal Garden of Eden, it was most likely located in Mesopotamia.

A case could, in fact, be made that the story of Adam and Eve, in addition to whatever spiritual lessons it conveys, is an allegory for the Neolithic Revolution – a fancy name historians use for the transition from hunting and gathering to agriculture and the subsequent development of early civilizations, partly because it’s shorter than saying all of that other stuff but mostly because it sounds WAY smarter and elitist and ancient history gets little enough respect as it is.

Adam, literally translated, means “man,” a word with its roots in either “red,” “to be made,” or both. In Hebrew, it’s an intentional bit of divine wordplay on the words for “earth” or “red dirt,” which doesn’t really prove anything regarding whether or not Adam was an actual dude, but makes for interesting speculation. “Eve” means “life” or “life-giver,” presumably referring to woman’s ability to crank out those adorable spawn.

According to the account in the second chapter of Genesis, the “Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” A few verses later, we’re told that “the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals.”

Because this was apparently not quite as fulfilling for Adam as God had hoped, he then went ahead and created Eve. Who would have guessed a working man would prefer a naked woman to figuring out what to call the platypus?

Setting aside the whole snake and fruit thing for a moment, it’s not much of a stretch to suspect this account in some way echoes a more general settling down of sorts. The whole concept of man and woman together hints of family and a less freewheeling lifestyle – that’s fairly universal throughout time. There’s no suggestion Adam hunted any of the critters he so lovingly named, although some are referred to as “livestock” – a concept tied to settled civilization. (The same folks who came up with “Neolithic Revolution” refer to the domestication of animals and the ongoing use of them for food, clothing, labor, etc., as “Pastoralism,” which not only sounds super-educated but a tad poetic.)

Once they’d disposed of the common enemy of nomadic hunter-gatherers (or made friends with them through trading), the gardening folks and the animal husbandry folks didn’t always get along. You may recall that the reported issue between Cain and Abel involved the former offering up agricultural offerings while the latter offered meat, and blood, from his livestock. God was not impressed by Cain’s efforts, leading to all sorts of subsequent efforts to explain exactly what exactly Cain did wrong, since food offerings had worked for plenty of other gods throughout human existence.

The issue continued in various forms all the way up to modern times, unresolved until the Oklahoma! concord of the early 20th century, when Aunt Eller famously reconciled both sides by firing her shotgun in the air. By the end of the square dance, the farmer and the cowman were, in fact, friends.

But whether or not Adam with his mad naming skills, Eve with her forbidden fruit, Cain with his inadequate grains, or Abel with his sanctified veal, were literal individuals or not, they have some competition in the “earliest folks in history” department. That’s where the Mesopotamians come in – at least one of them, anyway.

Sargon of Akkad. Or, as he seemed to prefer, “Sargon the Great.”

~~~~~~~

Notice anything problematic with that draft? Yeah, it was over a thousand words before I got to my supposed topic. I’m not the most regimented guy in the blogosphere, but that’s far from ideal in the ‘structuring and focus’ department.

But at least we’re there, now – right? But that wheel (*squeak lurch squeak squeak lurch*) kept yanking me to Aisle 2…

~~~~~~~

Traditional historians – the same ones who coin terms like “Neolithic revolution” and prefer to use B.C.E. (Before Common Era) in place of B.C. (Before Christ) and C.E. (Common Era) in place of A.D. (Anno Domino, or “in the year of the Lord), even though both systems still base all of historical time-keeping on the birth of the same Baby Jesus SO WHY GET ALL WEIRD ABOUT WHAT YOU CALL IT?! – consider Sargon the first individual clearly identified in all of written history. By their reckoning, the oldest surviving written records of the Genesis account are less than 3,000 years old, while the first references to Sargon are pushing 4,000 years old. That spares them the dilemma of arguing over just how literally to take the whole Adam and Eve thing – at least in reference to this particular topic.

On the other hand, while there does seem to have been a literal Sargon kinging over a literal kingdom, much of what was recorded about him back in the day was very likely exaggerated. Perhaps downright mythical.

What the modern reader must keep in mind, though, is that the line between “literal” and “mythical” wasn’t nearly as defined a few thousand years ago. This wasn’t because everyone alive back then were stupid primitive ooga-booga types, hunched and hairy and dragging women around by their hair. It’s that stories – even histories – had very different roles than they do today. Their priorities were different.

Legends and mythology persist in stories and art because they hold value, and proclaim truths other than the merely factual. That’s why many devout Christians aren’t particularly tied to a literal interpretation of many Old Testament tales – they consider the Bible to be a guide to man’s relationship to God more than a badly organized science or history textbook of some sort. Historians, on the other hand, would very much like to be better able to unravel the legendary from the literal with figures like Sargon – and go to great lengths trying to do so.

Here’s what seems fairly certain:

Sargon was the first ruler of the Akkadian empire, which conquered the early Sumerian city-states around 2340 B.C. His kingdom included most of Mesopotamia and parts of surrounding areas as well…

~~~~~~~

As I tried unsuccessfully to force myself to cut out the all-consuming intro and just talk about Sargon, I realized something else was bugging me, besides the post not being about what the post was about. Worse… it was potentially theological.

I think I wanted to write about us missing the point of the Adam & Eve account, at least in regards to that fruit we’ve always been told was an apple (the first of many things we’ve read into scripture over time which simply aren’t there).

I wanted to talk about blame and accusation and alienation from one another, starting with our withdrawal from the Almighty. I wanted to talk about “knowledge of good and evil” being less about promoting naivete and more about condemning judgement of others. I wanted to connect Adam’s defensiveness and willingness to sacrifice Eve and her efforts to deflect that betrayal on to the Serpent to Cain’s decision to slay Abel rather than ask his God what he could be doing better in the “pleasing offerings” department.

I wanted to connect it all to modern realities and the corruption of our faith.

But it’s not that kind of blog, and when I’ve tried similar approaches in the past, I’m not convinced they resonate with anyone but me. And besides, poor Sargon! He deserved a proper post of his own.

So I cut most of the other stuff out, and I fixed that wheel. At least until now…

*squeak lurch squeak squeak lurch*

Missing the Old Testament

August 28, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I don’t write many posts about Bible stuff, or faith in general. As incoherent as my posts may be, I try to remain tethered to topics at least remotely related to public education.

Mostly, though, I’m simply not a good spokesman for Christianity – nor is that my intent here. It’s neither a sermon nor theology. It’s merely a layman’s reflection.

The State of Oklahoma has recently been wrestling with a question that’s certainly not new, but which seems to carry renewed venom recently – to what extent should religion shape and influence secular government?

It’s not as easy of a question as some of us would like. We can say “not at all,” but that’s a bit like trying to remove the eggs from the cake after it’s baked. Faith of one sort or another is so ubiquitous that pretending it can be treated with absolute neutrality by a government of-the-by-the-for-the seems a bit… delusional.

At the same time, the ‘slippery slope’ of legislating faith is well-established, both in U.S. history and around the world. As Justice Hugo Black wrote for the Supreme Court’s decision in Engel v. Vitale (1962),

When the power, prestige and financial support of government is placed behind a particular religious belief, the indirect coercive pressure upon religious minorities to conform to the prevailing officially approved religion is plain. But the purposes underlying the Establishment Clause {of the First Amendment} go much further than that.
Its first and most immediate purpose rested on the belief that a union of government and religion tends to destroy government and to degrade religion. The history of governmentally established religion, both in England and in this country, showed that whenever government had allied itself with one particular form of religion, the inevitable result had been that it had incurred the hatred, disrespect and even contempt of those who held contrary beliefs…
The Establishment Clause thus stands as an expression of principle on the part of the Founders of our Constitution that religion is too personal, too sacred, too holy, to permit its “unhallowed perversion” by a civil magistrate.

But I’d like to set aside for a moment even this larger issue of government-mandated morality, or the First Amendment difficulties manifested whenever government and faith become entangled. I’d like to focus instead on the nature of the religion the powers-that-be are so determined to enforce via secular law.

Why the obsession with the Old Testament?

I’m not asking why they include the Old Testament in their belief system, nor am I challenging why the Old Testament is in the Bible to begin with. But why the legislative fixation on Old Testament principles and purposes almost exclusively?

It’s an obsession which seems to directly counter the entire point of the New Testament. An obsession specifically condemned by the central figure of that more recent Covenant, and after whom their faith is generally named.

I’d like to offer some insights from the formerly churched to the non-churched as to why I think this occurs. As is always the case, take my wit and wisdom for what it’s worth – which is plenty.

1. Absolute Clarity About Right and Wrong

According to the book of Genesis, God started mankind out with much to enjoy and to do, and a single rule not to eat fruit from one particular tree. The very first temptation by the earliest manifestation of ‘Satan’ began by questioning this lone prohibition – “Did God REALLY Say…?”

You can read this as a challenge of their interpretation or as an expression of disbelief at such an unreasonable expectation. In either case, the trouble began when something that seemed so absolute lost its clarity – and thus its authority.

The next dozen or so books of the Old Testament are largely the story of God’s people and an ever-expanding body of specific rules and rituals. Here’s what you can touch; here’s what you can’t. Here’s what you should eat; here’s what you shouldn’t. Go here, build this, kill them, honor that, etc.

In some cases even the level of detail gets rather tedious. It also makes those ‘Through-the-Bible-in-a-Year’ schedules tricky, since there’s only so much comfort and inspiration you can glean from, say… Leviticus. By the time Jesus came along centuries later, He couldn’t heal a crippled kid without breaking a half-dozen rules. He was thus constantly in trouble.

This may sound rather oppressive to our modern western minds, but consider the flip side of such a system. If you were at all interested in doing the right thing, in being successful or finding happiness or even going to their version of Heaven, the pathway was clearly marked.

You didn’t need to creep along the metaphorical road after sundown, squinting at obscure landmarks, trying to figure out if this counts as the second left after the Kwik-E-Mart or the third; you had a GPS from God. Ethical dilemmas were few, and the moral high ground was clearly defined.

Sure, you were supposed to mean it in your heart-of-hearts also – God emphasizes this point repeatedly – but it didn’t take much rationalization to consider rigorous adherence to the outward stuff as proof enough of your inward condition. Love for God or for one’s neighbor was the ideal, but as a practical matter it was mostly rules and customs – a sort of social symbiosis which benefits everyone involved but hardly requires heartfelt conviction.

2. Rewards and Consequences Were Swift and Overt.

The legal system guiding the Old Testament Jews was harsh. Enemies were to be destroyed, down to every last woman and child. Women were kicked out of camp during their periods. People eating shrimp or wearing a cotton blend were in sin just as much as those who got a tattoo or wore their hair the wrong way.

Punishments could be draconian. Steady the Ark of the Covenant when it starts to fall? Immediate death. Command water from a rock with the wrong attitude? Permanently barred from the Promised Land. Complain about the food? Widespread plague and death. Worship the wrong statue? Widespread plague and death. Sex outside of marriage? Widespread –

Come to think of it, widespread plague and death were kind of standard for a number of different screw-ups. It was a very communal system.

Experts will tell you that it’s generally better to have consistency in discipline – even if that discipline is harsh – than to have unpredictable consequences depending on factors beyond the perpetrator’s control. There’s security in structure, whatever the actual rules might be.

Do what God says and you’ll be healthy, wealthy, and live a long life with many wives. Stray from the path, and everyone you love will become violently ill or die, and you’ll lose everything.

You rarely have to wonder how you’re doing.

The gap between cause and effect was generally brief. Existential angst or wrestling with angels was rare – just grab the user’s guide and review the rules if something goes wrong. Kill a goat and you’re back on track – good as new.

The New Testament and the arrival of Jesus Christ instead offered freedom – from the hierarchical structure of the Old Testament system, from rituals and sacrifices, and from the bondage of sin itself. The problem with freedom, though, is that you’re free. You have to figure things out and sort through options yourself. That’s great, in theory, but also terrifying and disorienting.

Jesus promised the guidance of the “Holy Spirit,” but that’s only useful if you’re able to get past the ongoing and much louder screeching of a fallen world and our own deceptive flesh and stay focused on what’s best described of as a “still, small voice.” (I Kings 19 – and yes, I know that’s from the Old Testament but Elijah was a particular favorite of God’s and received a ‘members only’ preview of a number of things… hence the term “prophet”.)

Like being released from prison after a long sentence, sometimes we crave the security and structure of the old way – however oppressive. “At least in Egypt we had onions!”

Besides, no one’s going to donate to your campaign or pay you a legislator’s salary to meet one day a year and celebrate the Golden Rule.

3. There Was Action and Bad Guys to Kill

Many of the best stories in the Old Testament involve the creative ways God killed the enemies of his chosen favorites. We can debate the theology of this some other time, but for now at least recognize how satisfying and cathartic this is.

Remember the rush of shared victory you feel when your favorite team wins an important game, or the release of dopamine when you finally get past that nest of mercenaries on your X-box, and apply it to your eternity-shaping spiritual paradigm.

We can’t openly celebrate the destruction of our enemies in most situations anymore, but we can linger pretty close to that flame by taking ideological solace in the downfall of those outside our chosen circle.

“It’s a shame about all those black lives lost, but… *tsk tsk*… if only they’d been behaving more like we do. It’s unfortunate, all those poor families unable to move to a good school district, but… *tsk tsk*… there are consequences for their horrible choices. Too bad, though…”

The New Testament, in contrast, is seriously no fun at all. Jesus wouldn’t shut up about loving your enemies, turning the other cheek, or the rewards of being meek, humble, and poor. He insisted on hanging out with whores and cripples, seemingly just to piss off the church.

Unlike in the Old Testament, the New Testament makes little-if-any promise about rewards in this life for good choices, and little threat regarding backlash for bad ones – at least, not until “after.”

Instead we’re exhorted to “take up our cross” and follow Him – and as a bonus, if our hearts are truly pure, men will revile and persecute us and we’ll suffer a bunch, then die! We’re even specifically warned away from anyone who looks like things are going pretty well for them or who claims to have God’s will all figured out.

Granted, the eternal payoff apparently makes up for this, but unless you’re able to daily set aside this mortal coil, that’s just not… motivating sometimes.

So we keep looking to the old way, before Jesus ruined it all.

Lest you think I’m just being a downer, Jesus called this out early in His earthly ministry. In the Gospel of John, Chapter 6, Jesus fed a huge crowd with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish, and was suddenly quite popular.

Rather than build on what must have seemed to his disciples like quite a public relations success, He scolds people for wanting Old Testament results from New Testament behavior. He explicitly disavows good times in this life in exchange for good performance.

This isn’t where He says “take up your cross and follow me,” but the idea is absolutely the same.

Many of his followers left. Just as Jesus was building up serious popularity – an audience for His Message, if nothing else – He intentionally yanks away clarity, temporal consequences, and tangible comfort in exchange for cooperation. If He were an earthly leader, He’d have been doing it entirely wrong.

The New Testament simply doesn’t lend itself to the sorts of things politics are good at, or that people naturally want to be a part of. The Old Testament is a much easier model to emulate, and a far more entertaining system in which to be on the “right side” – preferably wreaking havoc on the “wrong.”

I think we miss it. We want to go back to it. Just like we miss the early America of our most patriotic imaginations. Clear hierarchies, limited world awareness, far less complicated social and government structures – surely those were better times?

Instead, we’re told in a New Testament paradigm to partake in the sufferings of Christ – to eat his body and drink his blood, metaphorically at least. Gentiles are allowed at the table, and sin is no longer punished primarily by secular authority. There are still consequences for some things, but forgiveness and redemption are expected to take precedence in most circumstances.

We’re expected simply to serve, and to love, perpetually listening for that next holy whisper while we lay down our lives on behalf of those who’ll neither understand nor appreciate it. It’s a system in which the glory, if any, is deferred, and in which even the fruits of our labor may not reveal themselves until long after we’ve moved on.

It’s what the Old Testament was pointing towards the entire time. From the Garden through the Temple to the Baby in that fabled Manger – and most people missed it.

We’re still missing it today.

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