The Waystead is a Hermitage of the Lindisfarne Community, established with the intent to foster the love of God in the world. Our resolve is to follow the Way of the One in Whom we live and move and have our Being.
We trust that by thoughtfully founding, and steadfastly keeping, a dwelling place and setting it apart as a place of prayer, reflection, and contemplation, we will be able to hold onto that resolve.
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Meagerness In My Soul
14 In the desert they
gave way to insatiable greed;
in the wastelands they
put God to the test.
15 He gave them what
but sent meagerness
into their souls.
2 Kings 21:1-18
14 I will abandon the
remnant of my heritage, delivering them into the power of their enemies — they
will become prey and plunder for all their enemies;15 because they have done what is evil from
my perspective and have provoked me to anger from the day their ancestors came
out of Egypt to this very day.’”
1 Corinthians 10:14-11:1
You say, “Why should
my freedom be determined by someone else’s conscience?30 If I participate with thankfulness, why am
I criticized over something for which I myself bless God?”31 Well, whatever you do, whether it’s eating
or drinking or anything else, do it all so as to bring glory to God.32 Do not be an obstacle to anyone — not to
Jews, not to Gentiles, and not to God’s Messianic Community.
33 The swineherds
fled, went off to the town and told the whole story, including what had
happened to the demonized men.34 At
this, the whole town came out to meet Yeshua. When they saw him, they begged
him to leave their district.
“Sent meagerness into their souls.”
“Thus provoking him to anger.”
“Do not be an obstacle to anyone.”
“They begged him to leave their district.”
Everyone is troubled nowadays by the notion of God’s anger.
I’m not sure why this should be, except that in today’s world, there are no examples of trustworthy anger. Angry
people are dangerous, unpredictable, abusive, selfish, and liable to hurt you
because their anger pushes them out of control. I have a friend whose adoptive
nephew killed his own baby in a fit of rage, punching it to death.
Even the abbess of my own order struggles with the idea of
God’s anger, debating with herself if the image of God as a violent defender,
meting out punishment, is “an acceptable image.”
What troubles me is the idea that we should understand God
by comparing God to us, that is, to human beings. I think a better
understanding might be more accessible if we simply ‘reverse the polarity’ and ask
ourselves how our anger might be comparable to God’s, rather than flinching at
our conception of how God’s anger is like ours.
Psalm 7 says God is ‘angry every day’. “12 (11)
God is a righteous judge, a God whose anger is present every day.” I found
that phrase while I was delving into Hebrew and rabbinical sources looking for
the words for God’s anger. Many of the words led to trivial but interesting
information, such as the Hebrews believed that the seat of anger was in the
nose, and that the heat of anger was like the heat in your body that you feel
after you have been bitten by a poisonous snake. I decided that those tidbits
were not particularly useful to me, but what did strike me was one source talking about God’s anger being held
back, and that the key to understanding the nature of God’s anger was in
that withholding. “Is there wrath
before God? Yes, "God is angry every day" (Ps. vii. 12, Heb.)—that
is, for a brief moment imperceptible to any creature: "For his anger
endureth but a moment; in his favor is life" (Ps. xxx. 6), or, again,
"Hide thyself for a little moment until the wrath [A. V. "indignation"]
is passed" (Isa. xxvi. 20).” Also the same commentator said this: “This withholding of wrath by God is the
"righteousness" or mercies spoken of in Micah, vi. 5.” http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/1523-anger
So, I tried to think of times when I was certain that the
anger I felt was justified, but I withheld it, not reacting according to my
outrage, but acting instead in accordance with a commonly held concept of justice.
Two occasions immediately sprang to mind, both from my experience as a police officer.
The first was during an investigation that led to the recapture of a female
escapee from the ankle monitor program. We were able to locate and arrest her
because she was using social media to pimp her own mother to get money for
drugs. Think about that for a minute—selling her own mother’s services as a
prostitute, and taking the money to buy drugs for her own use! The other was my
arrest of a man who had shoplifted items from a grocery store by hiding them in
his 8-year-old daughter’s coat pockets. I can still remember how badly I wanted
to punch him in the face after I looked at that bewildered, tearful little
girl, who wasn’t sure that she hadn’t done something wrong. I remember asking
the grocery store manager to take her out of the office so she wouldn’t have to
see and hear the whole process of her father getting a citation, and so that I
could cut loose and give him “the sharp side of my tongue,” as my grandmother
would say. Imagine it for a minute—you’re eight years old, and your father
furtively puts things in the pockets of your puffy purple coat and tells you
not to say anything when you go through the cash register!
I am certain that my anger was entirely righteous and
justified both of those times. The whole point is that I wasn’t angry on my own
behalf, I was angry on account of the harm done to another, and the blindly pernicious
disregard of basic human decency shown by the culprits. Still, I didn’t put
myself in charge of the punishment that should be meted out.
Well, who is
ultimately in charge? God is Love, but how does Love act when justice is called
for? God can’t look to a consensus, or a commonly agreed upon rule of law to
which God is subject along with everyone else. As a police officer, my authority to arrest and
charge people with crimes came from a mandate issued on behalf of the social
contract. God’s authority doesn’t work like that.
I want to go back to the first phrase now, “sent
meagerness into their souls.” I keep thinking of the phrase, “tough love.”
Tough love is an interactive model which is meant to help friends and relatives
to stop enabling a person to continue avoiding the consequences of their
behavior. An example might be letting an alcoholic person stay passed out on
the kitchen floor, instead of cleaning them up and putting them to bed. In this
way, the person has to experience the consequences of their actions. Another example
might be enforcing a harsh rule such as, “If you bring drugs into the house,
you will have to move out and not live here anymore.”
(Just a note: we empathize, and understand why parents
might choose to be that harsh and ‘unforgiving’, and how doing that might
actually help a person to change for the better, but we can’t seem to
understand it if God does the exact same thing….?)
Wouldn’t it be
amazing if, even while letting someone do what they want; letting them keep going
after things that are bad for them; keep right on doing drugs or getting drunk
and passing out on the floor, if somehow we could take the flavor out of it for
them? What if we could collapse their fantasy and break the feedback loop they
are stuck in by letting them have what they want, but making it so they got no
pleasure or satisfaction from it? What if we could, like God, send dissatisfaction
(meagerness) into their souls? I
would do it if I could!
So here’s a scary question—could it be that our trouble with
the idea of an angry God comes from our desire to keep on doing what we want
without having to bear the consequences? Could it be that we don’t want to
accept that we all are in the same boat together, right along with the
shoplifter hiding things in an innocent child’s pocket; with the daughter selling
her mother’s sexual favors for money; with the young man who punched his baby
to death? Could it be that we imagine God to be like us, instead of us being
One more daunting thought—if God wasn’t ‘angry
every day’, if God never “handed us over” to ourselves to suffer the
consequences, where would we be then? I think we would be abandoned, bereft,
hopeless, and utterly lost. Another source I found on the internet said
something like this: ‘Everything we know about God’s love, mercy, justice and
goodness needs to be poured into our understanding of God’s wrath.’ The same
source said that God’s anger is not like our anger. So, God’s anger has to be a good thing!
Back to the readings: I think I’ve found the connecting
thread. The warning is about the danger of seeing the world in terms of “us and
them;” about thinking in terms of “God and us.” It’s about the danger of seeing
others consciences as threats to our freedom, and about the implications of not
wanting ‘do-gooders’ in our neighborhood.
So, taking hold of the thread and following it wherever it
I follow the smell of
dissatisfaction and it leads me to—things worth being angry about.
I take hold of the cost
of my anger and it guides me to—learning how not to be an obstacle to anyone.
I edge past the blockade
of my own opinions—and leave the neighborhood when I’m not welcome.
(I originally wrote this in November 2015, after reading a book on understanding Jesus's teachings in the light of first century Jewish Temple mysticism. I had been struggling with the cannibalistic implications in the Eucharist of "eating Jesus's body and drinking his blood." It was such a relief to discover this interpretation which connects neatly with the way his disciples would likely have understood the language Jesus was using.) Eucharist A little bit of research on the internet produced a
description of Jewish ritual sacrifice in the time of Jesus. A person, say a
woman named Sarah, offers a goat. She buys it and takes it to the priest at the
Temple. He examines it to see if it is “perfect,” i.e. healthy and unblemished.
He then takes it and slits its throat with the ritual words, “This is Sarah’s
blood.” The meaning should obviously be, that this is the blood belonging to
Sarah and offered on her behalf. The blood would then be poured out at the base
of the …
almost always have a feeling of discontent (dukkha) when I encounter a way of
looking at the world that exhorts me to define suffering as victimization. This
way leads people to become social activists, fighting “injustice,” “poverty,”
“violence,” and causes them to want to change “society” to make it a 'better'
place. This way of thinking seems to me to miss the point. I call it
"bootstrapping,” because it makes me think of the old saying that describes a
certain kind of futility by the phrase, “trying to pull yourself up by your own
bootstraps.” It can't be done. It seems to me that people often perceive
concepts like "injustice" as entities in their own right, with a kind of
inimical but impersonal life of their own. This leads to the belief that ideas
can do battle in the arena of social activism and when righteousness is the
victor, then "society" will change for the better. I see this as a form of
delusion, and exactly the sort of error tha…
I've been thinking a bit about emotional states and
reactions, trying to figure out if what I personally experience is at all
relevant to what other people experience. I've come to believe that it doesn't
matter. I know I do a thing that everyone else also seems to do, and that is to
think about everything only in reference to myself. I've learned over and over
that doing so doesn't improve a thing, and I've even come up with a name for
it: "bootstrapping." As in 'trying to pull yourself up by your own
bootstraps.' Here's what I've provisionally understood: Attempting to evaluate
or make judgments about a thing, or a state, or a condition, based on nothing
more than a set of ideas that I have about it (especially any ideas that
include the concept of "should") is utterly deluded. If the condition is entirely internal, and my ideas about it
also have no outside referents, then any attempt to change the situation by