I didn't think I would share about my birthday present book right again, but I am! Lewis surprised me. You see, he picked his least interesting topic first: Judgement. And he proceeded to turn it upside down. I just love thinking...
If there is any thought at which a Christian trembles it is the thought of God's "judgement". The "Day" of Judgement is "that day of wrath, that dreadful day". We pray for God to deliver us "in the hour of death and at the day of judgement". Christian art and literature for centuries have depicted its terrors. This note in Christianity certainly goes back to the teaching of Our Lord Himself; especially to the terrible parable of that Sheep and the Goats. This can leave no conscience untouched, for in it the "Goats" are condemned entirely for their sins of omission; as if to make us fairly sure that the heaviest charge against each of us turns not upon the things he has done but on those he never did—perhaps never dreamed of doing.
It was therefore with great surprise that I first noticed how the Psalmists talk about the judgements of God. They talk like this; "O let the nations rejoice and be glad, for thou shalt judge the folk righteously (67,4) "Let the field be joyful ... all the trees of the wood shall rejoice before the Lord, for he cometh, for he cometh to judge the earth" (96, 12, 13). Judgement is apparently an occasion of universal rejoicing. People ask for it: "Judge me, O Lord my God, according to thy righteousness" (35, 24).
The reason for this soon becomes very plain. The ancient Jews, like ourselves, think of God's judgement in terms of an earthly court of justice. The difference is that the Christian picture the case to be tried as a criminal case with himself in the dock; the Jew pictures it as a civil case with himself as the plaintiff. The one hopes for acquittal, or rather for pardon; the other hopes for a resounding triumph with heavy damages. Hence he prays "judge my quarrel", or "avenge my cause" (35,23). And though, as I said a minute ago, Our Lord in the parable of the Sheep and the Goats painted the characteristically Christian picture, in another place He is very characteristically Jewish. Notice what He means by "an unjust judge". By those words most of us would mean someone like Judge Jeffreys or the creatures who sat on the benches of German tribunals during the Nazi regime: someone who bullies witnesses and jurymen in order to convict, and then savagely to punish, innocent men. Once again, we are thinking of a criminal trial. We hope we shall never appear in the dock before such a judge. But the Unjust Judge in the parable is quiet a different character. There is no danger of appearing in his court against your will: the difficulty is the opposite—to get into it. It is clearly a civil action. The poor woman (Luke 18, 1-5) has had her little strip of land—room for a pigsty or a hen-run—taken away from her by a richer and more powerful neighbour (nowadays it would be Town-Planners or some other "Body"). And she knows she has a perfectly watertight case. If once she could get into court and have it tried by the laws of he land, she would be bound to get that strip back. But no one will listen to her, she can't get it tried. no wonder she is anxious for "judgement".
(CS Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, pp. 9-11)
That's the beginning. So bloody fascinating! The very idea of longing for judgement. And yet a part of me does. Maybe I am wrong about the Psalter. Maybe it is only just what I want it to be rather that what it is. I am not sure at times. I mean, I know from the Transactional Theory of Reading that meaning is made when the reader interacts with the text (I write more about that here and here). That is not to say that God did not set down His meaning with clarity in the text He caused to be created. I believe absolutely there is only one meaning ... His meaning. And I wrote about how I believe that it is the Holy Spirit revealing Scripture being how we learn what God means. However, how I come to a text, even the Bible, is not going to be how you come to a text. And how I come to the text of the Bible today is not how I came to it even six months ago. My thoughts and feelings and experiences color and inform what I read. There is no escaping that.
For all other texts, from the reader's standpoint, meaning does shift, from reader to reader, from reading to reading. Some will argue there is no meaning than what the author intended. I think a lot of authors would say this is true. I think a lot of authors would say the exact opposite. As would be the case in any work of art. What does this painting mean? What does this score convey? What does this dance interpret? What does this sculpture speak?
The Bible, though, stands apart from every other text. I still believe meaning is made from the interaction of reader and text (Rosenblatt's theory calls that meaning made a poem), but as in the first post linked above, I believe the Holy Spirit creates those poems.
I believe that and yet I still doubt.
A friend wrote a comment on a Facebook post the other day that I do not understand. The old professor in me would totally have gotten it, but the ill former student does not. I have been afraid to ask her. It was something about the difference between exegesis and eisegesis. I couldn't understand what she meant, but it sounded as if the only reason I call the Psalter "beloved," the only reason I find some comfort and solace there, is because I put that comfort into the text ... that it's not there in the first place. I am so afraid that what I think she said is what she actually said instead of a misreading on my part that I have not asked her to clarify. I just sit and quake in my fear.
And yet I started the first chapter of Lewis' book and immediately I find such kinship with the Jewish stance and think "aha" so loudly I swear my neighbors could hear me (being out in my beloved haven where surely mind thoughts travel farther). It is another of those I-believe-and-yet-I-doubt situations.
Tell me it was not my fault, and I will nod my head. But part of me simply cannot believe you. Because, you see, amongst all those perpetrators, the common denominator was me. So, I wait in fear and trembling for that day of judgement. And yet there is this part of me who believes such a terrible, terrible injustice was committed upon that little girl (that continued as she aged), one that cries out for reparations even if I have no clue what they could or should be. I long for that day in court where I am not the one being judged, but one for whom justice is finally being served.
I read Lewis' thoughts on the matter and all I could think is this is why those judgement psalms do not scare me or send me fleeing. This is why I hold even them dearly against my heart. I get it. You don't have to explain really.
Only Lewis explanation made me eager to dig out my Bible and start plowing through all the books that were in the period of judges in the Old Testament. I want charts and graphs and diagrams to help my foggy brain study the words that are there in the fresh light of exactly what judgement was expected (hoped for) and why judges are not folk to be feared.
There is oh, so very much judgement in this world.
There is oh, so very little justice in this world.
The Psalter recognizes both.
God recognizes both.
And He gives you Jesus.
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