Fine Prints: June, 2006

Sheep, Smell, Satan and Sin June 3

Seeking Fairness in an Unfair World  June 10 

Illegals and the Law of Composition   June 17  

Translations, Nuances and Insights June 24

Sheep, Smell, Satan and Sin

When it comes to teaching spiritual truth through metaphor, the Bible talks a lot more about seeing and hearing than about smelling.

Granted, certain positive behaviors are depicted as wafting up to God like a sweet-smelling aroma. And Jacob told his sons that their slaughter of the Shechemites made his family’s name stink throughout the region. But overall, the sense of smell gets short shrift when it comes to biblical imagery.

In the animal world, however, smell reigns supreme. Most predators depend on it in their search for meals. And most of the preyed-upon use it to avoid being a meal.

Animals of the same species often decide whether to fight or fraternize on the basis of fragrance. And even for humans, scent is a major aphrodisiac. I’m not sure what impact skunk spray has on other skunks, but I know that the rest of nature is less than impressed.

In light of the foregoing, it seems appropriate to share a little insight gained from my growing-up days on the farm. And, no, I’m not going to elaborate on the olfactory impact of the scatological realities of the barnyard. Instead, I’m going to talk about sheep, smell, Satan and sin. That’s why I chose those words as my title.

Unfortunately, mothers in the sheep world are at times guilty of lamb abuse in much the same way that mothers in the human world are—of child abuse, that is. So it’s not uncommon for a ewe with twins to accept one and reject the other.

Whenever the unloved lamb tries to nurse, the mother moves away, denying it the nourishment it needs. She may even butt it out of range while she nurtures its much-loved sibling. Since farmers definitely don’t want any lambs to die before they’re old enough to be sold for lamb chops, they go out of their way to ensure every lamb’s survival.

One of the techniques we employed specifically for abused-lamb preservation involved Vicks VapoRub—you remember, that greasy, strong-smelling, petroleum-jelly-based stuff that your mother rubbed all over you when you had a chest cold.

Now sheep aren’t over-endowed in the brain department. Nor is their eyesight spectacular. But when it comes to their own offspring, they have a well-developed sense of smell. That’s where the Vicks comes in.

All we had to do was put a blob of Vicks up each of the mother sheep’s nostrils to ensure that she didn’t have a clue which lamb was detested and which was adored. While her tiny brain was trying to figure out which was which, both lambs became enthusiastic members the La Leche Club. In fact, with the passage of time, the ewe would forget what the favored lamb smelled like, putting a halt to her discrimination.

At least, that’s how it was meant to work.

I’m not sharing this information because I think you need to improve your sheep husbandry. Rather, I’m creating a metaphor. And the message is this: When the spiritual senses become dulled, the victim becomes incapable of perceiving things as they really are.

And just so you don’t miss the point: Satan—not Vicks VapoRub—is the problem.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Seeking Fairness in an Unfair World 

A few weeks ago, the topic of illegal aliens stole the headlines when tens of thousands of people marched in cities throughout the United States in support of the illegals’ cause. Debate has continued since.

Were it not that both sides of the debate couch their arguments in the language of moral piety, I’d probably say that the pages of the church bulletin aren’t the proper venue for discussion of this topic. But strident voices declare that we’re shirking our moral obligation if we don’t support the illegals. And other voices declare with equal intensity that this is a moral showdown from which moral Americans must not retreat.

So what are we to do?

The Roman Catholic bishop of Orlando has come out clearly about our nation’s obligation to the illegals. So have a number of Seventh-day Adventist bloggers. But others disagree. Strongly.

Perhaps we can gain insight from a story found in John 5:2-7 (NIV).

"Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda. . . . Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed."

And just why were these people lying there? Because it was believed that "from time to time an angel of the Lord would come down and stir up the waters. The first one into the pool after each such disturbance would be cured of whatever disease he had."

In short, the Pool of Bethesda was seen as the only hope for a group of truly desperate people.

"One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’

"Sir,’ the invalid replied, ‘I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.’"

So what does this story have to do with illegals in the United States? Just this: It’s a prime example of people in great need who face an unfair allocation of opportunity. The stronger, the more aggressive, the more advantaged in a sea of disadvantage push to the front of the line.

Of course, sheer numbers also played a role. Was it even possible for everyone to have a shot at being healed at Bethesda, granted the number of ill people and the infrequency of the troubling of the waters—if indeed getting into the waters truly provided a cure?

Which brings us to another question: Just how broad and deep is the sea of economic disadvantage in today’s world? Note this: Currently, three billion people live on less than two dollars a day.

If Bill Gates gave his entire fortune to the world’s poorest people. Each would get only about $35—not even enough to buy a new pair of Nikes. And if Gates liquidated his assets to distribute them to the poor, a lot of poor people would be without work, not to mention a few richer ones.

If only 10 percent of the 3 billion most-poverty-stricken people of the world moved to the United States—legally or illegally—the U.S. population would double.

So the issues may be more complex than we might guess from the quick fixes offered by some.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Illegals and the Law of Composition 

In my even more dogmatic pastoral past (I know, it’s hard to believe I could have been even more dogmatic!) I was once pontificating to a group of Adventist university students about the merits of country living. "The only thing necessary to make it work," I said, "is determination. If you want to do it, you can. It’s as simple as that."

My jets cooled somewhat when one of the university’s professors replied, "Except for one thing: You’ve forgotten the law of composition." Then he went on to explain.

He described it this way: If you go to a ball game and can’t see well, stand up and you’ll see better. But if everyone stands up—i.e. if the composition changes—you’re soon back to where you started.

He went on to point out that if large numbers followed my recommendations about country living, what I was recommending would quickly be rendered an impossibility. My suggestions remained viable only so long as relatively few people followed my advice.

Last week I talked about the hot-button issue of illegal aliens, noting that most discussions of the topic are couched in highly moralistic language. Some feel that we have a moral obligation to mainstream the illegals and grant them the equivalent of amnesty. Others feel we have a moral obligation to the citizens of this country not to accept more immigrants than our system can effectively absorb. But whatever the viewpoint, the word "moral" crops up. And that’s why I bring up this highly charged political topic in the church bulletin.

For those who favor blanket amnesty and porous borders as part of our moral duty to the "have nots," I would point to the law of composition. As long as only relatively few people come here seeking to better themselves economically, they’re going to benefit substantially. And we may too.

But we mustn’t forget how the law of composition works. When the numbers grow, the advantage diminishes and ultimately disappears altogether. As I noted last week, if even 10 percent of the world’s three billion people who earn less than two dollars per day were to enter the United States, the nation’s population would double. Life as we know it would cease to exist. And the arrivals wouldn’t benefit from having come.

So when our moral obligation to the poor—and I do believe we have such an obligation—is used to defend porous borders and the equivalent of amnesty for those few million who’ve already entered the United States illegally, my question becomes: What about our moral obligation to the rest of the world’s poor? Is our policy in dealing with one set of needy people helping or hindering our moral obligation to address the plight of the world’s other equally needy people? Do we not need a more comprehensive strategy if we’re truly to fulfill our moral obligation?

I’m not seeking to ignore the problem of poverty or our need as individuals and as a nation to seek to eradicate it. What I am suggesting is that if we include the law of composition in our discussion, we might view our moral obligation in a somewhat different light.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Translations, Nuances and Insights 

One of the things I like about using more than one translation of the Bible is that the varied nuances of wording often open up totally new avenues of thought.

In the King James Version, for example, when Jesus is told that His friend Lazarus is ill, He replies, "This sickness is not unto death . . . " (John 11:4). In the New International Version, Jesus’ reply, though similar, opens up a whole new realm of possibility. He says, "This sickness will not end in death."

The inference I draw from the KJV is that Lazarus wasn’t going to succumb and die. But he did. The inference I draw from the NIV is that death isn’t going to have the last word in this story. The phrasing of the two translations isn’t all that far apart. But the potential implications are dramatically different.

Needless to say, I like the NIV’s rendering: "This sickness will not end in death" (emphasis mine). Sure, death may be an unwelcome, temporary intruder. But death is going to be turfed out. A new chapter with a different ending is going to be written.

I see in the wording of the NIV a metaphor for the sickness of sin that ultimately robs all human beings of life. Yes, we do indeed die. But the story of humanity–your story and mine–will not end in death. Death, as the Apostle Paul so encouragingly describes it in 1 Corinthians 15:54, will "be swallowed up in victory."

And just whose victory is it that destroys death? Paul answers that question with gusto: "But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Corinthians 15:57) "who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel" (2 Timothy 1:10).

When the daughter of Jairus succumbed to her illness (Luke 8:40-56), the distraught father told the Master not to waste His time even coming to their home. The battle was lost. The story was over. All hope was gone. What Jesus knew–but what Jairus couldn’t even hope for–was that the beloved daughter’s sickness would not end in death.

When Jesus suggested to the bystanders that the girl was, metaphorically, only sleeping, they laughed Him to scorn. For them, the sickness had ended in death. It was over. From Jesus’ perspective, death was but the intermission preceding the next act in the drama.

According to scripture, death doesn’t preclude participation in Jesus’ return. In 1 Thessalonians 4:15-18 we read: "According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever."

Paul’s conclusion to this passage is particularly apropos: "Therefore encourage each other with these words."