Lenten blog | February 20, 2024

Same old myths, or Lent

Throughout the year, the Southern New England Conference of the United Church of Christ reproduces the Daily Lectionary for use by churches.  These are the suggested readings for February 20th:  Job 5:8-27; Psalm 77; and 1 Peter 3:8-18a.  I would encourage you to read these short selections as part of your Lenten practice.

In the last stanza of today’s Psalm, there is mention of “the waters” and “the very deep.”  These are ancient mythological terms for chaos, often the chaos of a divine being in opposition to the dominant Lord.  The word is təhôm, and it is biblical Hebrew’s equivalent of the Babylonian goddess Tiamat. 

The ancient Babylonians had a creation myth called the Enûma Elish, which is a title derived from the first words of the epic which are “When on high.”  The Bible’s creation accounts draw upon this more ancient source as evidenced by Genesis 1:2’s, “The earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”  These primordial waters were personified in Tiamat.  Tiamat sought to preserve the ancient disorder by battling the storm-god Marduk.  Marduk defeated Tiamat and divided her gigantic body into the earth and the firmament of the sky.  Read Genesis 1:6-8 for the biblical translation of this myth.

This is the same imagery that the Psalmist turns to in 77:16-17.  Yahweh is described in terms of the storm-god Marduk’s attributes.  Yahweh’s power is illustrated through images of thunder, rain and lightning, all causing creation to tremble in Yahweh’s presence.  This imagery of a powerful God makes sense in the context of Psalm 77’s, “In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord.”  Religions have turned to such imagery since there were religions.  Gods who can intervene through great power seem to reflect the human notion that power solves problems.

If this is the case, I wonder why so many religious fanatics take it upon themselves to protect violently the sanctity of their deities.  Aren’t their actions a counter-argument to their trust in an all-powerful deity, but one who can’t seem to act independently?
After church on Sunday, I was reading the newspaper.  There was a disheartening article about the intractable divide between Israel and the Palestinians.  (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/17/world/europe/israel-gaza-trauma-mood.html )  Neither will be safe until the other is safe, but neither trusts the other enough to try to live together, and the current conflict in Gaza has only intensified this dilemma.  Naomi Sternberg, an Israeli Jew, is quoted as saying, “Violence leaves such a small space for dreamers to thrive in.  We proudly naïve people are considered not only traitors now, but stupid, which is almost worse.”  Power, here, is actually the enemy to a lasting solution, but power is always the answer turned to for a solution.

Is it myopia, I ask sincerely, to imagine that our conceptions of deity are to lean so heavily on “all-powerful?”  I ask this, sincerely, in the context of Lent’s focus on the cross.  Jesus, for Christians, is the lived self-revelation of God.  His crucifixion is not understood as defeat.  It is revered as gospel, the Good News.  It is an uncompromising testimony to the anti-power power of God trying as heroically as Jesus’ sacrifice to convince us that the only plausible way to survive and thrive together in a world filled with differences is to respect the humanity in each other and to use this to live peaceably with one another.

Rather than the inconsistent idea of a powerful deity who must rely on human enforcers, Lent asks us to be consistent with God’s self-revelation in Jesus, and specifically a Jesus who accepts crucifixion, by imitating Jesus’ example of non-violence. 

Maybe Lent is our chance to rethink the myths we carry with us.
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If you’d like, here is the link to the Southern New England Conference’s daily reading schedule:  www.sneucc.org/lectionary.