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If you already read last week’s word about why the first day of the week is named after the sun, this week’s might be a little boring. But in case you’re coming here fresh JUST for this word, I’m going to include the same generaly history. 😉 So…why is the second day of the week Monday?
First: Monday = Moonday
The Middle English was spelled Monedai and the Old English was mōndæg, which was itself a contraction of mōnandæg (monan meaning “moon”).
The tradition, though, is even more ancient. Scholars believe the astronomical naming of days goes back to the Neo-Babylonian empire, dating to around the time of the Jewish exile in Babylon, though the first written record of the system is from the Roman empire era.
In this naming system, each day is broken up into seven hours, and each hour given the name of a prominent god after whom a celestial body was named. The first hour of each day gave that day its name.
Sunday, therefore, is named after the sun because that day of the week began with the hour of the sun. Monday, on the other hand, began with the hour of the moon–the second in the list of celestial-deities.
Many languages still preserve this tradition. For instance, in French, the word for Monday is Lundi, given that lune is the word for moon.
When I shared my disillusion with my political party in light of Trump and the way many Christians I know personally view him not as “the lesser of two evils” but specifically as someone to defend, no matter what he does, I heard from a lot of people who certainly didn’t go that far, but who began using a few phrases over and again (different people).
He is a “broken vessel” that God is using.
He is a King Cyrus.
He is a King David.
Now, I’m a historical novelist. I get the need to liken what’s going on today to what has happened before. This is a legit way to view our current world, through that lens of history, and something I love to do myself. Which means that when I see claims like those above, I can’t help but look into them.
First, what’s the point of the claims? Universally, they’re to point out that God uses imperfect, broken humans to bring about His divine will. I think we can all agree on that, right? He absolutely does.
God used King Cyrus, a foreign king who did not believe in the One True God but respected Him and those who did, to end Israel’s exile. In this context, Cyrus was called “anointed” by God, even calling him “my shepherd.” This example absolutely shows us that God will use even unbelievers to further His apointed work for His people. I love that. Could God be doing that with Trump? He absolutely could.
Is He? I think that’s a separate question, which requires asking what the will of God is for America. Which is a rather big question, and one I’ll put a pin for later. 😉 But for the purposes of this conversation, I think we can grant that this is always a possibility–that God will use our leaders, whatever their faith or beliefs, for His purposes.
But let’s not forget that God also used the kings who led Israel into exile and called them anointed for His purpose too, like Nebechudnezzer. Sometimes, His purpose for those He loves is not just to “restore” but to “break.” Those kings, too, served part of His divine will–but it doesn’t mean that will is desirable, nor does it mean it wouldn’t have better to repent and avoid the exile. And it certainly doesn’t mean we’re obligated to agree with our leaders on things just because they’re our leaders.
Two sides, same coin. Which is right? I’m not here to say…just to ask the questions.
But…what about that King David one? This one is actually traced to prophecies claiming that Trump is God’s “new David.” This one I find much more troubling.
Because David was not anointed for his raw power. David was not anointed for his money. David was not anointed because he was a “winner.” David was anointed because he had a heart that always chased after God.
He faltered, failed, and sinned grievously, yes. He did the unthinkable. And when the prophet Nathan pointed it out to him, he repented. This is what marks the Davidic heart and anointing, in my opinion. NOT what he did–but how he sought God.
Is that what our leaders today are doing? Are they rending their garments when spiritual leaders point out their hypocrisy? Are they refusing to lift a hand against the previous leaders, also anointed by God (if we truly believe that passage from Romans 13 that say that ALL authority is put in place by God…which includes Biden, Obama, and Clinton)?
Which brings me to the broken vessels.
Does God use broken vessels? ABSOLUTELY, and I praise Him for that mercy. Because we’re all broken.
But here’s the thing–God does not leave us broken. When He pours His spirit into us, His vessels, the point is always to pour it back out onto those around us. When we’re broken, cracked, full of holes, that Spirit and its fruits can’t flow like it’s supposed to…it spills into the ground in waste. But we serve the Potter.
He mends us. Fixes us. Reshapes us. We may never reach perfection this side of heaven, but that doesn’t mean He expects us to remain in that cracked and broken state in which He finds us. Right? When we put ourselves into the Potter’s hands, we are trusting Him to make us into something new–a new vessel.
That’s the healing power of His love, of His mercy, of His grace.
That’s the David spirit.
So…again, is that what we’re seeing? First in ourselves–am I letting Him fix my broken places? Am I submitting to Him in humility? Am I putting myself in His hands and truly trusting Him to correct my vision where it’s wrong, to repent of my own bad behavior and sins, to be made into something new? Am I asking Him to point out the error in my assumptions and judgments?
Or am I clinging to my brokenness and even glorifying it? Am I proud to be judgmental? To be set in my ways? To be convinced I’m right? Am I more concerned about my vessel than the work it’s supposed to be doing? More focused on being one of those “for honor” than in the people I’m supposed to be serving?
The question always has to start with me–with us. And I am never going to say someone else is or is not a genuine Christian…but if they claim to speak for people of faith, I will look at their fruits, because that’s what we’re told to do, and decide whether I’ll align with them or not. Whether I will let them speak for me. Sometimes, you can see very clearly where those broken places are. I’m not saying to judge them for them. But I think we do need to ask ourselves what our lines are in those we support.
Yes, David was an adulterer and a murderer. Not marks in his favor. But he did repent. He did not claim that sin as a win.
When it comes to politics, we’re never going to have anything but broken vessels to choose between–we’re all just people, after all. All broken. But how do we determine which cracks we’re okay with and which we’re not? Are we honest enough to admit that it’s because of what they do for us?
And do we extend that same graceful analogy to those we don’t agree with? Do we say that God used Stalin and Hitler and Mao for His purposes too? Do we admit that sometimes His purposes are to test us, and sometimes He finds us lacking? That sometimes the leaders He puts in place are to shake us down? Sometimes, even, to see if we’ll follow a human leader above following God, like with the kings of old who led Israel into idolatry?
Does saying someone was anointed by God mean we don’t hold them accountable for their sins and failures, that we excuse anything they do as long as they fight for what we want? I don’t think it does. I think we’re called to answer to God above man, and that He is watching what we condone. I don’t believe the ends justify the means. I don’t believe the outcome is all that matters. I believe the how matters too, and that we can’t honestly say “I can’t stand before God if I voted for a baby-killer” and not also say, “I can’t stand before God if I voted for an adulterer” or “someone who refused to feed the poor” or “someone who said he refuses to forgive.” All of those are sins. What ranks one above another?
We are all broken vessels, our elected officials included. But are we content to stay that way? Or will we let the Spirit that He pours into us remake us…even when that means letting go of the sins we’ve clung to so fiercely, for so long?
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Why is the first day of the week named for the sun?
The answer is fairly ancient. Scholars believe the astronomical naming of days goes back to the Neo-Babylonian empire, dating to around the time of the Jewish exile in Babylon, though the first written record of the system is from the Roman empire era.
In this naming system, each day is broken up into seven hours, and each hour given the name of a prominent god after whom a celestial body was named. The first hour of each day gave that day its name.
Sunday, therefore, is named after the sun because that day of the week began with the hour of the sun.
This naming system is quite extensive throughout the world, and it came to English via the Germanic language. It’s interesting to note, however, that other European languages without Germanic influence have instead chosen a name for this first day of the week that means “the Lord’s Day.”
Who should help the poor?
The Church? The State? Is it a mutually-exclusive thing?
What is the proper role of the government, according to biblical teaching?
Is it immoral to help the poor of other nations rather than focusing on your own?
These are all questions that have come up in the many conversations about hard topics that I’ve been involved in lately, and I think they’re really important questions to dig into.
So let’s start with the Scriptures. We know that the church is called upon to help those less fortunate. The most direct and straight from Jesus’s mouth is Matthew 25:31-46 (ESV). I’m not going to quote the whole long passage here, but rather focus on a few key parts.
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. 34 Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’
First, something jumped out at me recently that hadn’t before, and it’s that Jesus calls together all the nations. Now, yes, whenever “all the nations” are discussed in the Bible, it just means “all people.” But we also know that Scripture has layers, and that nations struck me recently. He judges us individually, separating us out from those “nations,” but that’s still where we start. Each nation will have sheep and goats within it. Those who did His will and those who didn’t.
And He clearly charges us here with taking care of the “least of these.” Feeding those who are hungry. Giving drink to the thirsty. Welcoming the stranger. Clothing the naked. Visiting the sick. Going to those in prison.
I don’t know about you, but I need to really take a look at those things and asking myself if I’m doing them. Am I feeding the hungry, or am I judging them for not going out and earning their own bread? Am I giving drink to the thirsty, or do I assume they’re drunkards? Am I welcoming the stranger, or am I calling him “other” and turning away in fear or disdain? Am I clothing the naked or proclaiming them indecent? Am I visiting the sick or saying they’re getting their just deserts by not living healthy lives? Am I going to those who have been arrested for breaking the law and ministering to them, or am I judging them as garbage and claiming I’m carrying out divine justice?
I don’t know about you, but I fall woefully short. One of my few excuses is that I support people who do these things more directly. Is that enough? I don’t honestly know. So I focus on who God puts before me, the opportunities He gives, the responsibilities He’s given me. And I also admit my own situation–I am a cancer patient who is one of the sick right now. That hinders what I can do in this season. I trust that my God of grace will be merciful, as long as my heart seeks to do these things, and as long as I don’t turn away from them.
But that has led me to another new question.
See, I’ve been involved in many conversations in the Church where we asked, “Who should care for the poor? The Church, right? Not the government. It should be our responsibility.”
I think the answer to this is definitely a “Yes” on “The Church should.” The Church absolutely should care for the poor.
But does that mean the government shouldn’t? Jesus himself doesn’t get into what the government should or should not do, but we know from the Old Testament that Israelite kings were judged based on how they cared for the poor. And when Paul is listing the duties of a government, I think we have to grant the list is NOT exhaustive. He mentions specifically in Romans 13:
This also follows Romans 12, in which Paul exhorts the Roman church to live at peace with everyone, as much as is possible. To outdo each other in respect and love and to always bless those who persecute them, to bless and not curse. He is speaking to a people who have no active role in the government, who are solely subject to it. He does not ever tell Romans to expose their children, as the pagans do. To obey the Roman law to acknowledge Caesar as divine. And so on. He is very clear that we need to obey God above man, when the two are in conflict. Nor does he ever say it’s bad for the government to help people who are vulnerable…he was simply addressing Christians living in a time and place where the government didn’t.
But would Jesus ever look at us and say, “You can feed the poor, you churchgoer–but you, you government agent, you can’t”? Would He say, “It’s okay to give money to the church to do it” but “It’s not okay that the government spends money on it”?
We are compelled to pay our taxes–Paul and Jesus both say so. Should we object if that money goes to help others? (This takes on even deeper meaning to me when I ask that question, like last week, of “Are we a Christian nation?” If I believe we are, shouldn’t I then believe it’s my country’s job to live this out too?)
And what if that aid isn’t for our own citizens, but others?
Again, there are Scriptures that tell us we should not neglect the care of our own. And there are Scriptures that praise the Churches of the New Testament for rendering aid to foreign churches, even from their lack and definitely from their abundance. But Paul never speaks to the authorities. Does that mean they should not aid others?
And are we neglecting our own if we do so? Or are we trying to do both?
If I’m approaching this question from a “Kingdom of God First” perspective, rather than a “nation first” perspective, the answer looks simple to me (though of course, I know that carrying it out is complicated). It looks like I’d always err on the side of doing good, of helping the poor of the world, of ministering to the least of these, whether the agency that does that on the ground is sent by my Church or my government. I believe people can serve God both from religious and non-religious organizations. I don’t think a nation will ever be judged harshly for doing so.
I also understand that from the “nation first” perspective, people see it differently. That we need to protect Americans first, focus on our own. I get those that say the Church needs to be the ones doing these good things–and agree. We do. But again, is it exclusive? As the most abundant country on earth, can we do both? Like those New Testament churches, would we not be praised for helping the needy around the world while we take care of our own?
As my husband and I talk through these things, as we talk about programs that don’t have enough funding for those who are entitled to it as Americans because non-citizens have found a way to use the programs too, I always start from the standpoint of “Well the system needs fixed, then, to keep them out.” And then my husband, who is always the prodder, will ask, “Is it ever wrong to feed people?” And I pause. Is it? Is it ever wrong to feed people?
In early Christian writings like the letters of Clement of Alexandria, the early church was dealing with these very issues. They made a premise of generosity and hospitality, and there were people who took advantage of that. So do you know what the advice was to those churches? Clement advises that it’s better to give generously to those who are undeserving than to risk hardening our hearts against those who are deserving; recognizing that we can’t always be sure. We’re assured that God will never judge us harshly for our generosity–though He may judge those who ask when they don’t need it. That’s for Him to do. Our primary concern ought to be making sure our own hearts are soft and receptive as we deal with “the least of these.”
Are they? I know mine hasn’t always been, and that’s something I continually work through.
I know, of course, there are limits–limited funding, limited resources, limited manpower. There are always limits when we put feet to the Gospel. And so, priorities have to be made. And when priorities have to be made, you can bet that people will argue about it. This is reality.
But maybe, if we can remember that helping others is ALWAYS good, we can reintroduce some civility into the debate of how best to live that out. Maybe we can remember that God loves them as much as He loves us. And maybe that will help us view the questions a bit differently.
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As Lent begins this week, I thought we’d take a look at Ash Wednesday, first from the etymology, and then of course as a holy day. We’re going to start with the Wednesday part…and in fact, this will launch a mini-series looking at the days of the week. (Out of order, I know. But hey, we take inspiration however it strikes!)
Wednesday has been the name for the fourth day of the week since Middle and Old English, with various spellings. Its earliest variation is Wodnesdaeg, literally “Woden’s Day.” Woden being the Old English form of Odin. It’s interesting to note that though English borrowed the translation from German language roots, German itself doesn’t have this same day–their word for the fourth day of the week is mittwoch, literally “mid-week.”
So why did Odin get this day named after him in English? We know that it’s a callback to Latin, where the day was “Mercury’s Day,” and that there’s an old equivalency between Odin and Mercury…but historians aren’t sure why the two were equated. It’s mentioned in ancient works like Tacitus, but the two gods don’t have much in common in mythology, aside from both being “gods of eloquence.” So maybe Wednesday is a day for eloquence. 😉
Now let’s shift to the Ash portion of our Lenten-preparation words.
Ash for the word for the powdery remains of fire dates back to the earliest forms of English, which is no great surprise. Ashes were commonly used as a sign of grief or repentance–which of course we know from the Bible, when people would sit “in sackcloth and ashes” as a sign of mourning.
It was round about the year 1300 that Pope Gregory the Great instituted a 40-day period of penitence prior to Easter, beginning the season with Ash Wednesday–a day to sprinkle ashes over the heads of the faithful as a simple of repentance and an official period of mourning for our sins, which led Christ to the cross.
Do you observe Lent? Are you doing anything special this year to focus your heart and mind and habits? I’d love to hear about it!