REVERENT FEAR
Scriptures:
I Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…..” That’s a familiar verse near the end of the 111th Psalm, and I’m sure it’s something that we’ve all heard and (for those of us who grew up in the church) were raised on. But it’s a phrase and a concept that’s always bothered me. Why should we be fearful before such a wonderful Creator/Redeemer? Indeed, the Psalmist puts this verse in the midst of a Psalm extolling God: the title for this 111th Psalm is “Praise for God’s Wonderful Works”, and the verse immediately before this one is “Holy and awesome is God’s name.” And yet…..”the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…..”
The author of the letter called I Peter gets at this same dynamic when he says, as we heard read this morning, “If you invoke as Father the one who judges all people impartially according to their deeds, live in reverent fear during the time of your exile.” This author was writing to Christians in a later period – those who were widely scattered, as he says in the first verse of this letter: “To the exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia…..” We may not be in exile (although sometimes I suppose here in Las Vegas it can feel that way), but even so Peter’s word seems as though it is meant for us as well: “…live in reverent fear…..”
Now, often when preachers deal with this phrase (“the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”) or this text (“live in reverent fear”) they will quickly move to the disclaimer that what is really meant here is to be respectful of God – to show God reverence. But we water down the Hebrew understanding of “the fear of the Lord” too much when we leave it at people “respecting God.” The Hebrew notion of the “fear of the Lord” meant more than mere respect for God.
Here’s how Kirk Jones, professor of ethics and preaching at Andover Newton Theological School, who was a pastor for 20 years, suggests that these ideas be understood:
“The Hebrew notion of ‘fearing’ God means a living awareness of the mysterium tremendum, an abiding sense of God’s awesomeness. Moses sees it and hears it at the burning bush, and he takes his shoes off. It catches hold of David at the return of the Ark of the Covenant, and he dances. Isaiah latches on to it in the divine summons, ‘Whom shall I send and who will go for us,’ and he shouts, ‘Send me!’ Mary receives it in the glorious announcement of an angel, and she sings ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord.’ Is it any wonder that such fear is mentioned in our text, which focuses on the awesome resurrection of Jesus from the dead? How in the world do we ever allow ourselves to get used to such a wild and wonderful event?”
Yes, a “living awareness” of God’s awesomeness is an important part of our response to the Creator-God, who is greater than we can possibly imagine. But there’s more to it than that, and I think this is the reason why I have problems with the idea that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” In college and again in seminary one of the great thinkers of the early 20th century whom I found myself being particularly drawn to was the Jewish philosopher and educator Martin Buber. In his seminal work I and Thou Buber says that God is at one and the same time, “’the wholly other’; but he is also wholly same; the wholly present. Of course, he is the mysterium tremendum that appears and overwhelms; but he is also the mystery of the obvious that is closer to me than my own I.” (I and Thou, second edition, 1958, 1923, p. 79) In other words, to use the more technical terms, God is both transcendent and immanent – both something greater than anything our human minds can wrap themselves around and right here inside of me, next to my soul, giving me comfort. That’s why we can sing both “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise” and “It Is Well, It Is Well With My Soul”. God is not just a creator but also a redeemer, which we know because of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead – and both of these are awe-inspiring realities in our lives.
How can we fear that which is “closer to me than my own I”? Well, what engenders fear in us? Power does, for one thing. I’m thinking here of Robert Mugabe, who now, it appears, has finally been voted out of power in Zimbabwe (although the story in this morning’s paper indicates that he may be looking for ways to keep holding on). Or the tyrannical reigns of an Idi Amin in Uganda, a Pol Pot in Cambodia, an Augusto Pinochet in Chile. Here were men who certainly evoked fear in the people they ruled over. Authority is another fear-inducer. Kings and queens and prime ministers down through history who would exercise authority over people’s lives – able to sentence them to death for the slightest infraction in some societies – that reality is sure to raise your risibilities. Majesty also goes along with power and authority; to be in awe often means to quail before the might that majesty presents to us.
So, why not fear God whose attributes certainly include power and authority and majesty? This question brings us to the story, according to Luke, of Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance on the Emmaus Road.
In many ways it is a strange appearance. For one thing, we don’t even know who one of these two disciples was, and the other, named Cleopas, clearly is a fairly minor character in the Biblical drama. It may be that these two were kinda off to the side during Jesus’ time of ministry; that could even be why they didn’t recognize him – they had their own concerns on their minds. You would think, wouldn’t you, that Luke would have Jesus appearing to Peter or James or John – those key disciples who would immediately grasp the importance of what has happened. But at least Cleopas and the unnamed disciples were not frightened by this encounter; they did not think they were seeing a ghost, and their conversation continued in a quite natural vein.
You might also think that someone so significant as a resurrected Jesus would choose to appear before the icons of power: Pilate or Caesar Augustus or the Sanhedrin. Why not use the absolutely unique fact in world history that a condemned criminal, one who was stripped naked, humiliated, mocked, and tortured, before being given such a cruel death had now risen from the dead as a means to confront what the Bible calls “principalities and powers”. Odysseus or Agamemnon or other Greek heroes would have done it this way. I dare say Harry Potter would have used that kind of clout to rout Lord Voldemort. This just isn’t the way a master of all that is good confronts all that is evil – by appearing to two secondary disciples and having a nice little conversation with them.
But of course, as we well know by now, Jesus is all about taking the expectations of normal society and turning them upside down – even in death and new life – and in this he is reflecting the will of his Creator/Redeemer parent. He interprets for Cleopas and the other disciple, as Luke says, “the things about himself in all the scriptures”. Wouldn’t you have liked to be a fly on the wall at that Bible study! It’s really too bad that Luke doesn’t tell us more about what it was that Jesus specifically said. But maybe, on second thought, it’s not necessary. The reality of his presence was enough so that now scripture would be filtered forever through this fact.
Jesus’ appearance before the two disciples tells us a great deal about God. God does not come seeking vengeance. God is not in a power-struggle in an effort to rule over earthly authorities. God is showing us what it means to love unconditionally in a world in which exercising power, authority, majesty in order to induce fear are the norms. Debbie Blue, writing in The Christian Century, puts it this way: “What is the good news of great joy? God, the creative Lover of the world, is willing to die at the hands of his people and then comes back again, not to make them pay, but to give them more love. It’s unstoppable, transformative, scandalous forgiveness for all the betrayers, scapegoaters, murdering fools, consumer drones…you and me.”
A “reverent fear” thus leads to a reverent love – which in turn leads us to no longer be afraid. Because of the resurrection of Jesus the Christ there is no longer anything to fear. Kirk Jones, again, puts it this way:
“To ‘fear God’ is to be in touch with the awesomeness of God. This has benefits for the way we live our lives. Perhaps the best benefit is this: an awesome God offers an awesome love. If I know that I am loved by God, I know that I am the recipient of…a mighty love.
“We don’t have to bow to low self-esteem;
“God loves us.
“We don’t have to make others feel bad in order to make ourselves feel good;
“God loves us.
“We don’t have to be afraid of the challenge of life;
“God loves us with a mighty love.
“Reverent fear has the power to make us fearless.”
Look at what the disciples did after that amazing encounter on the way to Emmaus and in the room where he broke bread with them – the place where they found their hearts “burning within us”. They went on to preach the gospel of the grace of God – a freeing forgiveness that gets to the heart of the matter and allows us to love one another without judgments.
What does Jesus do to open their eyes and to get their hearts yearning to tell this story? A simple thing – not what you would expect of one who wants to inspire fear – “he took bread, blessed and broke it, and give it to them.” What a effortless, homey thing to do. Yet, down through the centuries Christians have done the same thing, as we do for one another this morning, as our way of saying, “Do not be afraid. There is no more to fear. God loves us. The grace of God surrounds us. Take God’s love home with you this day.”
Amen
Dave Pomeroy
First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ
Las Vegas, NV
April 6, 2008