We Are Gods

One of my brothers called last Sunday with a question.

He prefaced his question with the remark that, although I have no credibility with him on political and economic matters, I might occasionally have an insight into the Bible. Our mother would have called that a "back-handed compliment".

My brother had been golfing with an author (my preference would have been to be writing about a golfer - oh wait, I am). The author was talking about his recent book asserting that, being gods, we are empowered for complete self-actualization and mastery of our fate. Or something like that.

To my brother, it all sounded a bit too new-agey, and he challenged his golf cart mate on that claim. The author replied that Jesus once responded to his detractors with a quotation from their Law that "ye are gods" (John 10:34), thus Jesus affirmed his position. My brother wanted to know what Jesus would have meant, because he knew Jesus wasn't putting us on par with God.

I had generally treated the verse in John as a "fly-over" passage. The surface meaning didn't fit my general theology, so I passed over it on my way to someplace important. I had, like the author, assumed that to be a god was an invitation to divinity. An exaltation. Empowerment. I had overlooked what Jesus said because I never bothered to look what Jesus was quoting.

Jesus was quoting Psalm 82. Psalm 82 does say "you are gods". But the context of that declaration is that God, who is judge of all the earth, is exasperated with people because they judge unjustly. People ignore the injustice of poverty and sickness and broken families among them. The Psalmist, Asaph, laments that the people who God has made stewards over His creation and in their communities neglect that stewardship and do not exercise justice. They do not make things right where they live. He says "you are gods", and continues "but you shall die like men and fall like princes". The Psalm closes looking forward to the day when God will arise and make all things right Himself. We are "gods" in our delegated role as caretakers and caregivers.

Far from affirming our divine spark and juicing our human potential, Jesus reminds us (and his detractors) of the stewardship and compassion that is our true calling. Caring for creation and for each other is still what differentiates us from the other animals and approximates god-likeness. Maybe being a god is less about power and glory and more about loving and mercy. Or maybe being a god encompasses all of power and glory and love and mercy, but the only part we can practice is love and mercy. We do tend to do badly in the power and glory department.

Not surprising then, when we go back to John 10, this is exactly the point Jesus was making about his own god-likeness. It sounded like blasphemy when Jesus called God his father because his listeners thought he was exalting himself. But Jesus did not argue his status, he argued his track record. He was doing the work of his father - making things right on earth. He argued that if the good work he was doing reflected the good work that God sent him to do, then, in view of the Psalm, he was a "god", or at the least, a "son of god". Specifically, the Son of God.

Unfortunately, it is the honor of it all that most appeals to us when we hear that we are "like God": we glory in the promotion to a more prominent and influential status. It feeds our pride. However it is not our designation as "gods" that affirms our capacity to perform. It is our capacity for compassion that nominates us as "gods" and actual caring that confirms us in that office. The true god serves. Jesus did. Humility enables god-likeness. Meekness puts it within putting distance. Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly with God.

I was glad the conversation my brother had with that author on the links gave me another chance to understand what Jesus said. I was glad to be reminded that loving each other makes up most of what we have been sent to do. It is something I usually forget. It's always nice to have a mulligan.

And as for politics and the economy... well, remember the poor, the sick and the helpless.

Water Walking

Of the story of Jesus walking on water and Peter's attempt to do likewise, Nadia Bolz-Weber writes that Peter's failure to have faith enough for the miraculous is not the point. The point she emphasizes is that Jesus was coming to him already and to get into the boat with his fearful followers.

I would consider another aspect of the story as well: When Jesus chided Peter for being "of little faith" (and I will use the gentler "chide" rather than "rebuke"), was He referring to Peter's failed attempt, or to Peter's challenge in the first place "Lord, if it is you, command me..."?

Peter's imposition strikes me as more dubious than his presumption to walk on water on two counts.

First, it eerily echoes Satan's challenge to Jesus "if you are the Son of God...", challenging the apparition to prove its identity, even after hearing its voice across the waters "Take heart, it is I, do not fear". Peter did not take heart at the familiar voice, believing, perhaps, that he was left vulnerable by his lord in the middle of the sea to the deceptions of random ghosts and sea sprites.

But the second indictment of Peter's faith was that, as an experienced fisherman caught in a storm, he was ready to jettison all he knew of the sea, storms and sailing for some kind of immediate magic that would carry him above, not through, the storm. Sometimes faith is demonstrated, not in spectacular deliverance, but in pressing on every day, doing what you know.

Happily, as Bolz-Weber expounds, Jesus' response to Peter's shortcomings in the faith department - whatever its source - is His immediate and comforting presence in the boat with those He loved. It was when they knew He was already at their side that He quieted the wind.