Today will be my first attendance as a lay participant in a meeting, mainly of medical professionals, under the above title.  In plain English, it's something about chemo-brain, so it will be interesting (assuming I understand anything that's said!) to find out what it's about.  Hopefully once I've worked out what it's all about, and I can also work out if there is anything valuable I can contribute...

Most of this chunk is taken up with a detailed description of a second census of (the men of) Israel, and an easily missed final sentence shows that by this point many years have passed and a whole generation has died off.  Clearly the chronology of this record is far from complete - the first few chapters all seemed to occur within months of leaving Egypt, now all of a sudden as much as three or four decades have passed by.  From time to time the people have settled here or there, at others they have been embroiled in battles, now, after a rather ugly account of events involving Moabites, a new head count is undertaken.

Word choices

Not being able to read Hbrw (Hebrew), I can't go to the original text here, and my interlinear is at church.  But I was struck that the word choices vary quite considerbaly throughout this section.

According to the NRSV (and KJV) "the people" are involved in sexual relations with Moabite women.

In the census we have "the descendents" of Reuben and Simeon, "the children" of Gad and the "sons" of Judah.  Issachar and Zebulun have 'descendents', Joseph has "sons". Ephraim, Benjamin, Dan, Asher and Naphthali all have "descendents".  The Levites are not numbered, but the clans are listed.

Does this matter in context?  I suspect not, but it is interesting to note which words are used because of the way that scripture is then read and interpetted.  "The people" or "the descendents" will be heard very differently from "the men" (NIV) or "the sons.

Net Change

The first census numbered a total of 603, 550 men of 'fighting age', by the second census the number had reduced to 601,730.  Some tribes had increased, others had decreased.  A bit of web searching (as I was too lazy to re-read the first census and do the sums myself turned up this neat summary which shows that, overall, the population was pretty stable (down by 0.3%) whilst inidividual tribes varied considerably, e.g. the tribe Simeon shrank by 63% whilst Mannasseh grew by 64% (I haven't checked the arithmetic, but the order of magnitude is what matters).

Every year assorted Baptist (and other) bodies undertake some sort of census of their churches.  The number of congregations, the number of people in formal membership, the number of adults in certain age brackets or of specific ethnic groupings. Sometimes the numbers are up, sometimes they are down... and when they are down, a degree of centralised twitching arises to try to redress this.

Do these numbers matter?  Why did Moses collect them?  Why do we collect them?  For Moses, this second census was linked to allocating chunks of land.  For denominations the census sometimes seems to be a bit of a box-ticking exercise (we have N people in category Y) but can also inform priorties.

Surely, though, there has to be a note of caution - any allocation made on numbers is temporal.  Populations rise and fall quite naturally.  Proportional and absolute changes have different implications.  Decisions made on demographics often come back to bite those who make them (the closing, merging, opening and extending of schools across the UK seems to be a prime example of this).

It is useful, I am sure, to have a reasonably accurate picture of the demogaphic of our congregations and denominations... but it's what we do with that information, how it shapes our thinking, that matters... and that it doesn't become an end in itself!

Dividing up the Land

The land is to be divided up using a two-fold approach, by lot and by population.  As I read this, I was reminded of an image I'd seen online a week or so back, that expressed the population of London in terms of other UK cities:

The areas are allocated by population, so that the next largest cities in the UK, Birmingham, Leeds, Glasgow have populations equivalent to relatively small areas of London.  London has a population broadly similar to the entire county of Yorkshire or the whole nation of Scotland.

I'm not for a nano-second suggesting that these islands could or should be redistributed by population - there are endless reasons why that would be a bad idea - but it is an interesting comparison to make, and it does explain (to me at least) why some of the misunderstandings and injustices (real or perceived) arise.  I'd love to see a similar graphic for Glasgow (can't fine one) which, at least population-wise, occupies an equivalent position in Scotland.

For all the preceding waffle, there is an important question here, I think, which relates to the distribution of resources among the people of a nation.  Not all land is equally fertile or productive.  Not all people have the same opportunities.  Equal is not necessarily equitable.  I am also reminded of this graphic:

I have no answers, I just know that it is all incredibly complicated!

Who'd have thought that would emerge from another long list of names and numbers!!

Sasha has seemingly decided that she would like to read the book that kept me occupied for a good couple of hours!

They are right, all the people who told me this book. "The Return of the Prodigal Son" by Henri Nouwen is a 'must read'.  As with so many things, there was no sense that I wished I'd read it years ago, rather there was more a sense that, for me, now is a good time to read it for the first time.

Given the number of sermons I've heard that have arisen from people reading this book, or which have been at least informed by it, I was somewhat surprised how hugely autobiographical it is.  Nouwen is incredibly open about his own inner world, an inner world that certainly resonates with me, and I am sure with many others.  Hugely honest and vulnerable, it is the story of 'living with' a painting for a number of years and of a 'journey' prompted by comments made by others.

What also struck me is that the assorted sermons I've heard have always focused on the sons - not one has ever explored our own becoming of father/mother, with which Nouwen's exploration ends.  I am curious as to why this is, and what it says about the concept and our willingness to engage with it.  For me, it was as helpful as the explorations of self as both younger and elder son, integrating the two in a coherent whole.

So, an easy book to read - no big words or theological jargon - with some deep ideas to ponder.  And it comes with a free postcard of the painting too!

This sort of arises from memories...

Recently I had lunch with a friend who chose have French toast and bacon. 

That brought back memories of how my Dad used to make what was, in my view, the best French toast, and I'd had a yen for some since then. 

So this morning after a visit to GP nurse for some routine bloods, I called into a local emporium and chose this - French toast with bananas, berries, toasted almonds and honey. 

It was very scrumptious, and slid down nicely with a decaf skinny latte!

(Oh, and for the record, I don't miss bacon one bit since I stopped eating meat, so maybe I never loved it as much as I thought I did!)

Today begins with a "cyber wave" to those valiant folk who are working their way through Exodus and Numbers.  The close reading is giving me much to ponder, which is a good thing.  My memory of Numbers as being "a good read once you get past the lists at the start" now seems decidedly iffy - maybe that's part of the mystery of it all.

Four chapters today, simply because any other split would interrupt the story of Balaam, which seems a tad daft.

Lost Scrolls

Mention is made in this text of the "The Book of the Wars of the Lord", possibly a collection of ballads or poems describing victories, of which no extant version remains, and which seems to have been lost way back in time (along with some other scrolls/books mentioned elsewhere in the scriptures).  Lots of stuff online you can check out, I chose this one as it's from a Jewish source, hence not subject to Christianised interpretation.

I think it is good to be reminded that the documents that comprise our sacred writings were once stand alone and part of a wider corpus of writing.  Good to be reminded that choices were made on what to include and what to exclude.  Good to see that, however divinely inspired such choices and edits were, these are the work of human hands and therefore subject to the limitations of human finitude.

Bronze Snake

A peculiar story, yet one that is picked up in the fourth gospel as part of the conversation with Nicodemus:

 ‘Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. (John 3: 11 - 14 NRSV)

The bronze serpent on a pole lifted up by Moses carries a very strong echo of the Greek myth of the rod of Asclepius and the symbol of one or two snakes wrapped round a stick remains to this day a symbol used by pharmacists and medical organisations alike.

The healing/salvation motif associated with the 'lifting up' is interesting, as is the idea that to 'look upon the snake' or, by parallel, to 'look upon Christ' defeats death. 

I'm not going to speculate over the literal or mythological nature of the story, I don't think that's helpful.  What has always fascinated me is how the symbol has found its way into everyday use in a world so secularised that any mythic or sacred origin is long lost.

 Balaam (and the Talking Donkey)

Any excuse to post a picture of Shrek's talking donkey friend!

The story of Balaam is one that is often told only in part, in which he is portrayed as a stupid, stubborn man who is cruel to his donkey.  The fact that the donkey is then granted human speech adds to our delight in the story.  Whether this is part of the original manuscript or an insertion (omitting chapter 22: 21 - 35 would not detract from the sense of the story, and would overcome the slight complication of God telling Balaam to go and then being angry when he does so (22:21)) is not so important, in my view, as the fact that we reduce the story to this.

In essence, Balaam is approached by Balak to help defeat the Israelites.  With lots of things happening in threes (nice mystic number) Balaam speaks to God and is convinced to speak blessing rather than curse over the Israelites.  If anyone is a bit dim, maybe it is Balak who, each time a blessing is made takes Balaam somewhere else expecting him to speak to curse. 

It is, actually, a very comedic account, if we step back from the warlike intent behind it.  And it's also a very profound one - given the choice to curse or to bless, what will you do?

In the gospels Jesus is recorded as saying, "‘But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you."  Likewise the apostle Paul, in the letter to Rome:

"Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all."

Perhaps in the story of Balaam we find an important message hidden amongst the myth/supernatural, not that God is 'for us' and will always bless us, but instead that when invited to 'curse' we should at least contemplate the possibility of 'blessing' instead.  What may need more thought is what such blessing may look like..