The faith of Abraham – that emblematic faith for the Scriptures and the Christian tradition – was expressed in his leaving behind the comforts of Ur and heading for an unseen land of Yhwh’s choosing. It is the faith of a wealthy man, a man with a considerable amount to lose. However, the step that the martyr is called to is not the faith of first setting out, but a faith-on-the-way. This temptation he encounters having already set out on his journey away from his luxurious past towards the kingdom of God. We do not find Abraham, despite his faults, hearkening back to Ur and the lifestyle he has lost.
Within the Abraham cycle, there is however one figure known for succumbing to the temptation to look back: Lot’s wife. With the brimstone hailing down on her home, she looks longingly back. If the salty judgment on her seems harsh, it serves to underscore her lack of belief that the call of God to the future really is the future. That is to say: she can see plainly that there is no way back to the past and yet her heart is still in Sodom and Gomorrah. She still yearns for that which she knows had fallen under the judgment of God. Her sin is a nostalgic longing for the past, not a faithful longing for Yhwh’s future.
Lot’s wife serves as a precursor to the great moment of inbetween-ness in Israel’s history – the wilderness journey between Egypt and the Promised Land. Moses’ wrestle with the people in the desert is often cast in terms of their longing for the pleasant Egypt of their enslavement in preference to the hardships of their journey. With their backs to the Red Sea and with Pharaoh’s army closing in on them, they complain: ‘[I]t would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!’ (Ex 14:12). Likewise, their hunger (Ex 16:3; Num 11:4-6) and their thirst (Num 20:1-8) contrast with the plenty that they had had in their former home in bondage to Pharaoh.
Their looking-back is not at all unreasonable. As for Lot’s wife, the difficulties and uncertainties of the journey of faith contrasted unfavourably with the simple pleasures and security of the past. The experience of being a refugee has little to commend it, especially when the basic requirements of daily living are not apparently being met. The disconnection of personal and communal identity involved is also what is at issue for the Israelites. Far better to be the slaves of the Egyptians and to know who one is than to be trapped in this condition of uncertainty – dis-located and dis-identified. Throwing off the shackles of Pharaoh means disavowing his identification of them as a slave-people. Israel is not the maker of her own identity however; rather, she called to an identity that is given to her by Yhwh. Yearning for the fleshpots of Egypt is a yearning to be identified as one formerly was, a longing for the old self. In the end, this nostalgia for the past self presents a rosy vision of what once was. The speech of the Israelites about the Egypt that they have left behind seems to bear little resemblance to the real Egypt. Slave labour, racial segregation and ethnic cleansing were conveniently excised from the Egypt of their complaints to Moses. There is a tendency to lie that comes with the nostalgic vision. It is a self-delusion of the heart: it trades in the desire for what once was, even though the route back is impossible to traverse.
3 comments:
Luke 17.32 - An oft overlooked dominical injunction.
P Knight
That' s beautiful, yes the price we are willing to pay for a sense of identity, the self delusion of the heart, a most understandable and yet dangerous temptation.
My wife has been reading a book on the history of colours and a surprising number of them were poisonous, notably the lead-based white women used for make up and the vivid aresnic green that was the ultimate status symbol for wallpaper. Its not like they didn't know almost from the start that they were poisonous, its just that the advantages in the short term of identity, attractiveness and feelings of success were considered worth the risk.
Strangely enough that passage always puts me in a nostalgic mood: I think of Rev. Dennis Ryan, minister at Christ Chruch Lavender Bay during my teen years. There never seemed to be more than about 10 people in the congregation, but he was about the best bloke and best preacher I ever knew. In his sermon on this passage he was painting a speculative picture of the details of what Lot's wife was missing that ended with "...one last look at her ruby glass" - at which point his wife Pauline, (a collector of ruby glass) involuntarily cried out with a tone of reproof: "Oh Dennis!"
I know Dennis Ryan (and Pauline too): a real gent and a great critiquer of sermons!
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