A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

Just as bold as Pentecost's rushing wind in Acts 2, "wisdom," or "Woman Wisdom" (as translated from her Hebrew name Hochma), takes to the streets with a loud voice in the book of Proverbs. Most of the book is an edited version of various collections of proverbs. Woman Wisdom's speech in Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31, however, is part of a group of instructions and wisdom poems found in chapters 1-9.

The setting of the book of Proverbs is the patriarchal family in which the father instructs the son, passing on the wisdom of the sages encapsulated in the form of proverbs. Hochma represents wisdom, which has broken loose from this traditional setting of court and family. Instead she can be found in public spaces such as the street and the city gates. Her knowledge is relational, not based on the memorization of a fixed body of knowledge.

Woman Wisdom's presence at creation, her delight in humanity and God's delight in her evoke strong connections with the Spirit. In fact many scholars have understood hochma to be a female personification of God's creative and saving actions in the world.

The delight that Wisdom finds in humanity is picked up in Psalm 8, a hymn of praise extolling the majesty of God as creator. In this psalm human beings are celebrated as part of God's good creation, crowned with glory and honor.

	How has what you "know" about God and God's reign of love and justice come out of relationships with others? How do you see this relational "wisdom" in the faith of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people? Where are the places you find wisdom in addition to traditional structures?

In the New Testament, Jesus is identified with the hochma (sophia in Greek) of God. In 1 Corinthians 1:24, Paul calls Christ the wisdom (sophia) of God. The connection is also especially present in the gospel of John. Like hochma, Jesus exists with God from the beginning of creation (John 1:1-5). He speaks in the same fashion as hochma: with a loud voice to the masses (John 7:28, 37) and in long discourses (chapters 14-17). The passage assigned in the lectionary for today, John 16:12-15, is part of what is often called Jesus' farewell discourse found in John14:1-17:26. Jesus is preparing his disciples for his physical departure, but promises the comfort and guidance of the Wisdom/Spirit of God. The loud and clear voice of the Spirit will continue in the community of faith, and, like hochma in Proverbs, "will guide in all truth" (16:13).

In his letter to the Romans, Paul wants to present his understanding of a life of faith to a congregation he has not met yet. After stating the theme of his letter in 1:16-17 ("The righteous will live by faith") he goes on in Romans 5:1-5 to claim that the Spirit will sustain believers who have been reconciled to God through faith in Jesus Christ. This particular section of Paul's letter lifts up the theme of hope. Even in the midst of suffering, the Spirit engenders hope in the person of faith, reminding all who suffer of God's love so freely given.

	How is suffering a place where we glean wisdom and a clearer understanding of God? What are signs of hope in your community of faith as people have struggled with the inclusion of LGBT people in the church?

Often the "historical mediation" of the Spirit is lost when coupled with the Trinitarian concept of "Father, Son and Holy Spirit." One reason for this is the devaluation of the female identity of Spirit in a traditionally patriarchal construct of "Father and Son." But like hochma, the Spirit speaks with a loud voice in these passages for today. Elizabeth Johnson has indicated that the Spirit manifests in history anytime a "community resists its own destruction or works for its own renewal; when structural changes serve the liberation of oppressed peoples; when law subverts sexism, racism, poverty and militarism … wherever diversity is sustained in koinonia; wherever justice and peace and freedom gain a transformative foothold" (She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse, p. 126).

	In what ways might this female image of the Spirit challenge or enlarge traditional understandings of the Trinity? How might the Spirit — and its theological shift of gender — offer comfort to LGBT people? In the Spirit, how is God calling your faith community to be in ministry, particularly with transgender people?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

The texts for this week are full of the names and stories of women in the Bible: Jezebel in the Kings text, Bathsheba (implied) in the Samuel text, the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus' feet with her tears — as well as Mary Magdalene, Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward Chuza and Susanna — in the Luke text. These stories invite us to take a look at power dynamics in the biblical narrative and our communities.

In 1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21, Jezebel and Ahab abuse their royal power, which results in the innocent death of Naboth, and, in 2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, 13-15, David is confronted by the prophet Nathan for his abuse of royal power, which has resulted in the innocent death of Bathsheba's husband, Uriah. Of all the characters in these stories, it is Jezebel who is most vilified in subsequent biblical narrative and interpretation. In Western culture, the name "Jezebel" denotes "evil woman." This evil has been sexualized, but in the biblical narrative itself, Jezebel's abuse of power is not connected to her sexuality, but her religious zeal and political ambition. True, in 2 Kings 9 she will "paint her eyes and adorn her head" to confront her enemies, but this is a sign of her royal power and not sexual seduction.

While Jezebel's (and Ahab's) actions were clearly a sign of abuse of political power, the ways in which wickedness is often sexualized — and in particular with regard to women; lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people; and people of color — must be noted as we work with these texts. Often when marginalized people exercise their power appropriately they are sexually demonized by those whose positions of "power over" are threatened.

	Who has the power within your congregation — formally and informally? How is that power offered? What is your congregation's relationship to power?

In Luke 7:36-8:3, the unnamed woman who anoints Jesus' feet with her tears is sexually demonized. She is called "a woman of the city" (meaning prostitute), a "sinner." Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza points out that most prostitutes in the cities of the New Testament world were impoverished and forced into this type of livelihood as a result of their marginal status in a patriarchal society. She claims that "all categories of sinners were in one way or another marginal people who were badly paid and often abused" (In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins, 128).

Yet this "woman of the city" is the one who offers radical hospitality to Jesus in the story — and it's not even her house! She crashes the dinner party because she believes she has a place at the table. Her empowered, embodied action makes the host nervous. Simon, a caricature of respectable religiosity, is upstaged by this woman, "a sinner" whose name we do not even know.

Stories like this one from the gospel of Luke resonate for LGBT people in the month of June as many will gather for pride celebrations. These celebrations have their historical roots in what is called the Stonewall Rebellion. On June 28, 1969, drag queens, "women of the city" and most of them people of color, resisted arrest and continued harassment by New York City police at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village.

In this letter to the churches in Galatia, Paul is refuting those who have come preaching a different gospel. A gospel which claimed that there were compulsory behaviors associated with becoming Christian, namely the circumcision of Gentile converts. In Galatians 2:15-21, he claims that whether Jew or Gentile, all have been justified by God's grace in Jesus Christ. In these days following Pentecost, the Spirit continues to call the church to a radical inclusion and hospitality that transcends any notion of compulsory behavior (as heterosexuality and celibacy) which would make God's love and grace conditional.

With the psalmist we say, "Lead us, O God, in your righteousness, and make your way clear" (Psalm 5:8), "Instruct us in your way and make your way clear" (Psalm 32:8).

	In what ways does your congregation wrestle with inclusion? How does your congregation relate inclusion to hospitality? What is your congregation's culture around Eucharist, the Lord's Supper or Holy Communion? Who gets invited to the table? Does your congregation use inclusive language for God and people?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

The text from Paul's letter to the churches in Galatia has been one of the most widely used in discussions of inclusivity in the life of the Christian church. Galatians 3:23-29 is thought by many scholars to be part of a baptismal ritual from the early church which Paul quotes. Interpretations of this ritual vary. For some it describes equality through the dissolution of divisions of the human race that will be realized in God's distant future. For others it describes a goal that all baptized Christians must work toward in the present.

The promise of radical equality in this Galatians passage resonates with many groups of people who have been marginalized because of their race or ethnicity, social status or gender identity. Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people have resonated with this passage, claiming that the dissolution of the binary notion of "male" and "female" affirms the loving of all people, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity. Participation in the realm of God is not based on any of these.

While this passage from Galatians has been encouraging to so many for the above reasons, it is also important to read and interpret it with a "hermeneutic of suspicion" — asking tough questions of the text. Radical inclusivity must not result in radical invisibility. As baptized Christians strive for equality for all people in response to the gospel of Jesus Christ, we must recognize the "particular identities" of all God's children. To be baptized into the body of Christ does not mean that we are a homogeneous people. In our work for equality we must see the face of God in various people, in various ways.

	How does your congregation embody diversity? How does your meeting space encourage a culture of unity? How do you cultivate within your congregation an experience of the many faces, voices and expressions of God?

All of the psalms for this week — Psalm 42-43; 22:19-28 — deal with the question of the nearness and presence of God. Psalm 42-43 asks, "Where is your God?" while Psalm 22:19 requests, "O God, do not be far away." Our texts from 1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a and Isaiah 65:1-9 answer these questions in essentially the same way. God is not always found in a great show of power (see also Isaiah 64:1-5, to which 65:1-9 is a response). God does not show up in ways we expect or even demand. Instead God is ready to be sought out by those who will simply ask the question, "Where are you?" and are open to the ways God will answer that question.

The story of the Gerasene demoniac in Luke 8:26-39 attests that God shows up in acts of healing. The response of the townspeople to Jesus' restoration of the man indicates that sometimes the transforming presence of God can make us uncomfortable. In all these texts we are invited to look for and experience the presence of God not in sameness, but diversity; not in great shows of power, but in honest seeking; not in actions that fit into our comfort zone, but in acts of transformation.

	How might your congregation answer the question, "Where is God?" How does your congregation declare its experiences of God? What is the most radical experience of God your congregation has had?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

In 2 Kings 2, we are drawn to the depth of friendship between Elijah and Elisha. Especially for people who have had to create new family, we celebrate the model provided by Elisha and his "father" Elijah. The definition of family is changed in the love that we show for one another in the families we create.

We are reminded of stories from our own community in the context of the fight for marriage equality: for example, the story of a woman who was denied the possibility of being present at the time of the death of her companion of 35 years because neither the family nor the hospital recognized the integrity of their relationship. This text calls us to the deep connection and transference of spirit at the hour of departing, and of how sacred that moment can be. We fight for more than legal rights; we fight for spiritual inheritance.

Psalm 77 reminds us that in the midst of the very real experience of not getting an answer from God, we are called to the power of recollection. Connecting this text with the 2 Kings text, we recall how one generation (Elijah) parted the waters and then the next generation (Elisha) did also. We are encouraged not to be afraid of waters we must go through. The chaos of one's life will flee in the presence of God. We celebrate the power of a sense of history, reminding us of what God has done in and for and through those who have gone before us. Cross-generational friendships are so critical to the real success of our movement.

	Who are the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people of faith who have gone before us, who have parted the waters, from whom we want to learn and whose mantel we are called to assume on behalf of the next generation?

Galatians 5:1, 13-25 brings memories of both treasures and traumas. Paul begins (and ends) with this wonderful proclamation of grace. Yet, as soon as many people hear the word "flesh" (verse 16), they default into a legalistic and punitive theology. We are reminded that "flesh" was Paul's shorthand for the lower, carnal mind — a life driven by fear rather than love. Galatians 5:14 clearly reminds us that the fulfillment of the law is to love your neighbor as yourself. When all else is hung on this anchor, we hear it more responsibly both for ourselves and for others. It is not freedom just to follow every sexual urge, or to fly off the handle at every offense or to be controlled by strong drink or drugs. That does not mean that we should ignore every offense, or deny our sexuality or never have a drink. Free, embodied people consult deeply with their bodies as they relate to other bodies, with the God who is embodied in Christ.

	What has been your experience of moving from a punitive theology where God aims a lightning bolt ready to strike people down to a theology that teaches responsible choices, governed by the spirit of God inside of us?

Boldly following Jesus, we hear Luke 9:51-62 call us to a different way of responding to those who disagree with us or do not preach the gospel in the way that we think they should. What would happen if the LGBT community and our allies were as motivated to "save" those who persecute us? Those who use the "Christian faith" to condemn others are most in need of "being saved" from the hell they create for themselves.

Boldly following Jesus also may mean finally, fully coming out about our faith and our sexual and relational lives. In Luke 9:57-62 we imagine hearing reasons for not being "out:" "What will my family think?" "After my father is dead, then I can come out." These reasons echo the response of many to following Jesus: "Lord, first let me go and …" (Luke 9:60). How many closeted gay pastors and church leaders similarly insist they will come out once they retire!? So many reasons keep us and our allies from responding to God's call to us, to walk in integrity, to be all that we have been created to be.

	What is it that keeps us from following Christ's radical call to personal and ecclesiastical integrity?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

Like the ruler in 2 Kings 5:1-14, we are called to exercise the gifts we are given. Like Naaman, we are challenged to let go of our need for the big and splashy ways that God may work so that we may act on the one little thing that God is calling us to do. For example, while we might want to change the laws of the land, we may be asked to begin by improving our relationships with our own partners.

	What difference does deeply believing that you are worthy of being called by God make in how you live your life? What little things might God be calling you to do, in contrast to the big splashy thing?

Psalm 30 came out of the psalmist's very real experiences. We remember the times and places in our lives when things were really difficult, as if we were "in a pit" (verse 3) — and what it felt like to come out of that place. God is now present and pleased with genuine laughter and joy. A lot of dancing goes on in God's presence!

We also heard the prayer that God turns our mourning into dancing (verse 5), to bring people through and out into this sense of joy. While some individuals may experience this, the freedom to be joyfully out is still not available to the whole LGBT community and especially to LGBT communities of color. We hear a call to believe the promise of God beyond the pit, and to not be silent! Remember, the call to "not be silent" is for God's sake, for God's integrity and not just for our sake. To "come out" spiritually and socially is a holy cause, worthy of great action and great celebration.

Galatians 6:1-16 challenges us about our willingness to cultivate the self-restraint, courage and fortitude necessary to be a gentle presence to those who transgress against us. O, the weariness of the work! The same conversation over and over! Yet we are charged not to be weary in well-doing, to work for the good of all, even those who think of themselves as our enemies. We do not have the luxury of reading this text as if it pointing at "them." We have to read the text as if it is pointing to "us."

	What is it like to reconcile with someone who transgresses you and to restore that one in a spirit of gentleness? How does power or relative lack of power (social and ecclesiastical) affect such interactions?

In Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, the lectionary presents two movements: (1) the sending out of 70 followers of Jesus with notes about ministry and hospitality and (2) the report of the 70 when they return from their mission. Unfortunately, the lectionary skips over the comments about Sodom in Luke 10:12-15. This omission compounds ignorance about Sodom. Few recognize that Jesus, having named inhospitality, calls attention to the comparable sin of Sodom. Who were the Sodomites? They were persons who refused hospitality to strangers, persons who wanted to use and abuse those angels whom God had sent (See Genesis 17 – 19). So Jesus says, "If you don't get the hospitality right, it will be worse for you than for Sodom, who didn't get the hospitality right."

To the LGBT community and our allies: we, too, are sent out by Jesus to minister and to proclaim that the reign of God has come near. We are responsible for our actions, not for the acts of hospitality or of inhospitality we receive.

How ironic that the King James' translation of the Bible has often been used to interpret "sodomy" to speak against homosexuality instead of inhospitality. It is especially ironic since King James' gay lover, George Villiers, the duke of Buckingham, is entombed near him in Westminster Abby! [See Mel White's Religion Gone Bad: The Hidden Dangers of the Christian Right, p. 136-137.] We have an opportunity to move beyond that prime example of King James' own homophobia when we read the entire section, Luke 10:1-20, and include a discussion of inhospitality as the sin of Sodom. Do not allow the lectionary to silence justice for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people one more time.

Neither can we be silent about the call to accountability. Jesus proclaims that a time of reckoning is coming. This is a wake-up call for Christians sitting in churches thinking it is OK to mistreat people. There will be a day when we all will have to answer for our actions. As Paul says in Galatians, "We do reap what we sow!"

	Where are the places of greatest hospitality and inhospitality for LGBT people? In what ways do you — and your own community, whether the church or LGBT community — refuse or offer hospitality to God's people?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

Deuteronomy 30:9-14. What a profoundly important word to our wounded community! For some, especially in the African-American lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community, the thought of freedom is so far "beyond the sea" (verse 13) that it cannot be conceived. This text speaks encouragement to keep on proclaiming that good word of freedom. It is near to us, in our hearts, in our mouth (verse 14). It is attainable. The prophetic word to that deeply wounded, deeply closeted community is this: Your freedom is not far off. It is not hopeless. That to which we are being called is not distant.

Surely this word is a healing balm for our community. The work of God is not in what they have been doing to us, but in loving God and neighbor and self. And that is very near!

Psalm 25:1-10 reminds us to trust in God and not think we have to do everything ourselves. Many LGBT people feel alone and some feel they don't have access to their spiritual heritage, because of the way the church has treated us. How empowering to remember, "Oh, yes, this is not about me, but about God and what God is doing!"

The prayer, "Do not let me be put to shame; do not let my enemies triumph over me" (verse 2) calls us to not be ashamed of who we are or of the spiritual journey we are on. Perhaps this is not only an external challenge, but also an internal concern. We are reminded not to let our own shame and fears triumph over us. Sometimes our greatest enemy is our own fear.

	Share a personal story about a time when putting your trust in God led to peace and a new path for your life.

In reading Colossians 1:1-14, we considered the similarities between that small, strange (dare we say "queer"?) collection of believers in a frequently hostile society and our own strange collection of faith-filled LGBT people in community. What power is available to us if we can receive the blessings this writer wants to pass on to that struggling first-century Christian community! We have a share in the inheritance of the saints in light! We have been rescued from the power of the shadows and transferred into the reign of God! This is all for us, not just for someone else.

This encouragement fills us with the desire to have our community writing letters to one another. Those epistles, encouraging one another in the grace that is ours in the midst of these struggles, will be so important to our legacy. Generations later, those who follow us can understand the process we went through.

	What would you write in a letter to an LGBT community in another city or state to encourage them in the struggle and to remind them of their spiritual inheritance that will sustain them?

The story of the Good Samaritan, Luke 10:25-37, resonates deeply with LGBT concerns. The priest and the Levite could not touch blood or a dead body without becoming unclean and thereby being prevented from going into the holy place. Jesus' story suggests to us that touching one who is wounded is in itself an act of holiness. To go into the brokenness of a person and to touch them is to go into the Holy of Holies. While some people want to run from LGBT people and call them unclean or abominations, we care for one another. We know that kind of righteousness.

Recognizing the holiness of touching the one who has been wounded, we also receive God's charge to focus on those afflicted with HIV/AIDS. Yet, while some HIV/AIDS patients have received adequate attention and treatment, HIV/AIDS remains under-recognized in many communities of color, particularly for women of color. We cannot let it fall off of our radar screen just because it is not affecting the white male communities in the same numbers as before.

Connecting with the message of Deuteronomy 30, we are reminded that the opportunity to live out the law is near to you — in these wounded people. In this ministry to fragile bodies we experience the joy of fulfilling of the law.

We also note that the person who was despised (the Samaritan) acted like a neighbor. Many in the LGBT community frequently reach out to minister to gay and non-gay alike. We are being a neighbor! Remember to own that as a gift we can offer even when we are despised.

Remember that Jesus answered the question, "Who is my neighbor?" (verse 29), with a story and another question (verse 36) in : "Who acted like a neighbor?" We are also challenged to look outward to see where God's church is at work, celebrating acts of kindness wherever we find them, even by those who may not be part of the visible church.

	Who are the wounded ones we are avoiding in our community?

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

In Genesis 18:1-10a, we are struck by the hospitality of the house of Sarah and Abraham. We know what is coming next (in Genesis 19) — the violent inhospitality of Sodom. Yet here we have an awesome example in Sarah and Abraham to imitate, using the best of our gifts to welcome people into our homes. And as we extend that hospitality we put ourselves in a place to hear the good news. Over and over, the church has failed to extend hospitality to the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community — and the gospel has been lost! Whether or not the strangers are angels, the expectation of extending hospitality to the stranger is not to be dismissed lightly.

The failure of welcome has not only been toward the LGBT community. Both ideological inhospitality among Christian denominations and lack of interfaith hospitality rank high in the list of ways we sabotage the hearing and proclaiming of the good news of God's love.

	What good news might we miss because we fail to entertain strangers in our midst graciously?

Rich McCarty reflects: "After listening to Psalm 15, I have an image of a great assembly hall. Everyone is there. LGBT persons are there as well as those who set themselves up as our enemy even though they are our neighbor — people who have wounded us economically by firing us from our jobs and who have slandered us in a multitude of ways. We are looking each other right in the eyes. Then I hear someone asking the question, 'O God, who may abide in your holy place?' The answer comes. 'Who shall dwell with God? Those who walk blamelessly … (long pause), and do what is right … (long pause) …. and speak truth from their heart … (long pause).' Who is welcome? Everyone hears the answer. Everyone who has slandered us and hurt us is renewed and able to walk blamelessly with us. Everyone who has been unable to speak truth from their heart is freed and able to do what is right."

In our conversation, we writers shared tough and troubling experiences with the promise in Psalm 15:4 that those "who stand by their oath even to their own hurt" shall abide in God's sanctuary. We honor those who speak boldly their own truth about gender identity and/or sexual orientation, and who remain in their integrity even to their own hurt. We also grieve the way some have used this claim to bind people in the oath of marriage and, in the process, to wound the soul of the one so bound and his or her partner.

	What is it like to stand by your oath even to your own hurt? Consider both positive and negative examples.

Colossians 1:15-28. First things first! The Christological acclamation establishes that which is pre-eminent: the firstborn of all creation, before all things, the head, the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, first place. Christ is first! Then all else finds its rightful place: In Christ all the fullness (Greek: pleroma) was pleased to dwell. Idolatry raises its ugly head as people and institutions want to set themselves up as the firstborn, the incarnate Word and Wisdom of God and thereby claim the right to dominate and oppress others.

After establishing the solid foundation in Christ, the hearer of that Word can no longer be stuck in the intellectual process. Ministry consists of unfolding the meaning of Christ the foundation. We hear, in Colossians 1:24-28, the call to embody that unfolding or unveiling of the gospel in our body-selves. How am I relating to other bodies, to other selves? How am I opening my tent to show hospitality to strangers? The unfolding of the Gospel is not about proselytizing or telling others what to do. The Gospel unfolds as it comes to life in you and me.

	Name some of the ways you want the Gospel to be revealed and expressed in your own life. What will happen to the church when we talk about the glory of this mystery, Christ in you, in our body-selves — even in sexual intimacy?

Luke 10:38-42 invites us, along with Jesus, into the home of sisters Martha and Mary. What does it mean to invite God and those made in the image of God into our homes and provide hospitality? On the other hand, do we know how to rest? For those of us in leadership positions, busy doing what Martha is doing, we hear the call to tend to our personal relationship with God. How we need the balance between work and resting in the presence of God. Maybe we need to call each other Martha from time to time — just to call each other back to that essential disciple-relationship with Jesus.

Mary's choice — relationship and intimate discipleship — will not be taken away from her. In a time of rapidly shifting political climates, even knowing that people's hard work can literally disappear in a moment, those times of intimate community cannot be taken away.

A conversation about this week's lectionary Bible passages

The Bible, our churches and our own lives can present us with images of a God who seems angry, vindictive, abusive or simply aloof. We have been told by some simply to accept these images without question. Taken together, however, this week's lessons encourage us to question these images, to hold God's messengers, and even God, to the same standard of faithfulness to which God holds us. Helene Russell suggests that the good news for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender Christians is that the Bible itself is a complex wealth of traditions that begs us to engage in critical and questioning conversations with it, with each other and with God.

In Luke 11:1-13, Jesus teaches us to insist prayerfully on what we need from God until we get it. In response to the request for Jesus to teach the disciples how to pray, he suggests praying for both the state of the world ("your kingdom come," verse 2) and our own needs (daily bread, forgiveness, safety from times of trial). Although the text asserts that "everyone who asks receives" (verse 10), Marti Steussy notes, the story of the friends at midnight acknowledges, as does Psalm 85, that sometimes when we're knocking, the door seems slow to open. But we must not let God's seeming aloofness keep us from insisting on what we most need.

	When you pray, do you pray for that which is life-giving and spirit-enhancing? Do you insist on it?

Charles Allen suggests that Colossians 2:6-15 shows us how our common life in the Body of Christ entitles us to question any ruler or authority that might condemn us or put us down: "See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy or empty deceit, according to human tradition" (verse 8). The writer tells us to remain faithful to what we've been taught, but, Marti Steussy points out, it also assumes that true teaching is freeing, not imprisoning. With any teaching we should ask: Do we experience fullness and life, feel rooted and built up and established? True faith is not miserly but abundant!

Helene Russell notes an apparent opposition between human reason and divine wisdom in the Colossians reading. But a closer look reveals that the author is opposing a particular philosophy that is teaching tenants that are not compatible with the exuberant grace and bodily incarnation that are central to Christianity.

	How do you discern between mere human wisdom and Wisdom that is also grounded in faith, in Christ? Is there a difference? If there is a difference, how would you characterize the difference?

Genesis 18:20-32 shows us a God who invites the forefather of our faith, Abraham, to insist on God's faithfulness. Still, for LGBT folk, Charles Allen remarks, this passage is a prelude to one of the most fearsome texts of terror. Whatever Sodom's sin may be (gang rape? neglecting the poor? — Genesis never explicitly tells us), one wonders why God would need to find even one "righteous" person in the city — to say nothing of 10 — to refrain from destroying it. But it may be part of the passage's function to get us to ask precisely that question.

As Marti Steussy observes, God actually seems to invite the questioning ("Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" Genesis 18:17). Abraham keeps posing the question, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?" (verse 25). And each time God accepts Abraham's proposed modification to God's plans, thus implicitly granting that the previous plan fell short of true justice. Helene Russell wonders if God is encouraging us to think critically about the norms of justice and judgment and not merely accept decisions and norms on so-called divine authority.

	Have you ever argued with God? Could you consider this discourse prayer?

Hosea 1:2-10 is a shocking passage by any standard. God tells Hosea to enter a situation that violates all conventional family values! Worse yet, God's own behavior violates Israel's codes of behavior, in that the metaphor assigns God two wives (Israel, here meaning the northern kingdom in which Hosea prophesies, and Judah) who are sisters (in violation of Leviticus 18:18). Beyond that, we see God enacting the pattern of a domestic abuser, angrily disowning the family and then just as abruptly announcing that all will be fine.

Marti Steussy points out: We are supposed to be shocked by this reading. While we usually hear Scripture read in a kind of holy monotone, the ancient prophets were street-corner preachers who used every trick they could think of to get people's attention. God's words here would likely have been preached in a bitter, angry voice that underscored the horror of what was taking place. The point was to shock the audience into feeling God's pain: "Can't you people see? God feels like a betrayed partner! God's so frustrated God thinks about disowning God's own children!" But it is dangerous language, portraying God as a human too scarred to deal with other people as they are.

Eventually God's covenantal love (hesed) seems to win out (Hosea 11:8-9), but Charles Allen insists that we must not use that later passage to "rescue" this one. It really is not OK to get violent with your partner no matter how deeply you feel betrayed. Maybe a modern retelling, a Midrash, is in order: imagine Abraham responding to God. "I know your hurt runs as deep as a betrayed lover, but don't your love and your power to heal run even deeper?"

Psalm 138 celebrates God's faithfulness, but even this festive psalm ends by admonishing God to remain faithful.

	Do we always need to "rescue" a passage from the Bible? How do we respond honestly to a portrayal of God that seems far beneath Israel's God of covenantal love?