Exclusion

 January 25, 2021

It’s OK to not have all the answers. It’s OK to not even know all the questions. Some people seem to have a gift for ferreting out pearls of wisdom from even the most obscure Scriptures. Daily they offer gems that gleam with a kaleidoscope of beauty that the rest of us wish we could see, but don’t. We muddle through, hoping that occasionally even a flawed diamond will fall into our hands. 

I’ve been reading through the Old Testament. 1 and 2 Chronicles had some good stories with plenty of examples of human failure and divine grace, but of course, they were mingled with endless lists of names that have the capacity to put even the most dedicated scholar to sleep. Today, having left Chronicles behind, I read through Ezra, the scribe who probably wrote both the Chronicles, and perhaps the two Samuels and Kings as well. His biography (or perhaps autobiography) is somewhat less dramatic than those of whom he wrote in his other works. He oversaw the rebuilding of the temple after the Babylonian Captivity, and tidied up some of the errant practices of the religious leaders of his day. It is this latter that has my attention, if not my understanding.

Ezra was charged with ensuring the orthodoxy of the Remnant who returned to Jerusalem under the protection of Cyrus. Israel’s history had been one of struggle between the monotheism of Yahweh and the polytheism of the rest of the world which continually threatened and often succeeded in infiltrating pure Hebraic religion. Their being carried into captivity by Babylon’s Nebuchadnezzer in 586 BC was what finally cured them of their polytheistic impulses. Seventy years exile in a pagan foreign land taught them their lesson. Polytheism was never a serious threat to Judaism from then on.

But when the Jews returned to their homeland, they found living there the descendants of the poorest of their countrymen who had been left behind; people who had mingled and intermarried with the peoples the Babylonians had imported as part of their policy of breaking up opposition by scattering and settling them in the far-flung reaches of the empire. In Judea, these people were not only “mixed breed,” their religion was a synchretic hodge-podge of Judaism and whatever religions the imported peoples happened to bring with them.

So when Ezra set about rebuilding the temple and restoring worship, these settlers who had been in Judea for the past seventy years naturally saw themselves as having priority in the process. They were, after all, the “old guard.” But Ezra would have none of it. He refused their offer, which caused no small stir. There was a further problem. Many of those who had returned with him had settled down and were intermarrying with the native population. This might be permissible for the ordinary settler, but the religious leaders were absolutely forbidden to do this, even to the point of insisting that those who had thus married renounce their wives and children. The purity, and therefore survival, of the nation was at stake.

So here’s the problem: What do we do with this today? We live in a country enamored with multi-culturalism, with ethnicity, and inclusiveness. In past generations, when people came to these shores, they pretty much left behind their old alliances and even nationalities. Though they retained their languages and cultures, their primary identity was that they were now Americans. There was a unity of values and ideals that no longer exists. Ezra insisted that anyone not willing to be 100% Jewish be completely cut off from the worshipping life of the synagogue. Exclusion was necessary for the survival of the nation. 

Jesus taught differently. He held up the half-breed Samaritan as an example of God’s love, and included the leper, prostitute, and traitorous tax collector among his followers. We live suspended between these two. Without a clear demarcation of “in” and “out,” we soon lose our identity, but holding strictly to such a standard flies in the face of the Gospel. So tonight, I ponder these Scriptures, not yet finding the answers to my questions, but grateful to have the Scriptures to guide and correct my often errant thinking. I am a legalistic at heart, but I also lean hard into the grace without which I would certainly be left on the outside, looking in.