Monthly Archives: March 2020

In this time of exile

Friends, the onset of the coronavirus and the subsequent restrictions it has placed on all our lives has left me with some time, and a deep inclination, to do some writing beyond Sunday sermons. Below is the first fruits of those particular labors, and I imagine there will be more to come. I find crafting them into words helps me nail down my thoughts and feelings, so this is a attempt to do that for the myriad things running through my head about this pandemic.

This piece is directed to The Chapel of the Cross and was distributed to them this week, but the message might also be applicable to you in your context as we all suffer this time of exile and try to stay together while being apart.

Peace be with you all,

Noah+

In this time of exile:

A Reflection by The Rev. Noah Van Niel

                As many of you know, at The Chapel of the Cross we have a group of parishioners who are reading the entire Bible across this program year. This week they have made it to the end of the Old Testament. This is no small feat, and those who have endured deserve to be commended. These last weeks have been spent in the books of the Prophets—the big names like Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, and the smaller ones like Hosea, Haggai, and Habakkuk (among others). As we have been reading them, it has become increasingly clear that the most formative historical event for many of these prophets was the Babylonian Exile of 586 BC, when Jerusalem was conquered by the armies of King Nebuchadnezzar and the people of Israel were expelled from their homeland, sent into exile, and separated from their community. As part of this exile, the Temple, the central locus for communal worship and religious practice, as well as community and religious identity, was destroyed. This was utterly devastating for the people of Israel on every level. Their understanding of their relationship with God as the chosen people crumbled along with the walls of His holy house. Because who were they if they weren’t in the Promised Land? Who were they if they were not able to gather as a people? Who was God—where was God—if not in the Temple?

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Faith

The Rev. Noah Van Niel

The Chapel of the Cross

March 8th, 2020

Lent II (A): Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3: 1-17

            “So Abram went.” Friends, I would submit to you that these three words, and the preceding three verses in Chapter 12 of Genesis, are the most consequential words ever written in human history. That’s right. I can already see your fingers itching to send me an email telling me how wrong I am. But before you do, note that I did not say it was the most famous, or the most eloquent, or the most enlightening, text ever written. I said it was the most consequential. Because what you have in these few words is the first statement of the Abrahamic covenant; the moment the one God reached out to this one man and promised him everything, if he would leave it all behind and follow Him. And despite all the questions Abram must have had, “he went.” And from that moment flow three of the most consequential religions in the history of humankind: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Together they currently account for more than half the world’s population, and through their combined history have shaped more lives and societies than any other social force, ever. And they all trace their roots to right here, to Abram (who, of course, we know better by his later name, Abraham.) And what they celebrate about him, specifically, was his faith.

            I find this somewhat strange because Abraham’s faith is patently absurd. God told him to leave the safety and familiarity of his homeland and his family to head for who-knows-where; and even though his wife was old and barren God promised to make of him a great nation; and even though he was a nobody, God promised to make him famous, and make him the conduit of blessing to all the peoples of the earth. It’s absurd. It doesn’t make any sense. If Abraham came to you and told you all this, you would think he was crazy. And yet here he is, celebrated by the majority of the world as the prototype of what it means to have faith. Because the reality is, faith always has an element of the absurd to it. It’s part of its nature. It inevitably requires a suspension of the rational and thus you can never completely understand it. You can’t think your way into faith. The famous 19th century Danish philosopher and theologian, Soren Kierkegaard makes this exact point in his classic book, Fear and Trembling. The book is a slim, but densely packed character study of Abraham in which Kierkegaard writes, “I can’t understand Abraham. I can only admire him” (137).[1]

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