I simply took it for granted. There is no other explanation or excuse.
I didn’t even know what questions to ask that would help me creep out from behind the veil of intellectual certitude.
When I asked the question, I didn’t understand the burden that would arise when I heard the answer.
We were driving on a freshly-paved road among rolling, craggy hills on a splendidly clear day. There were small houses and shepherds here and there. Then — wow!– a gorgeous subdivision, plucked straight from Orange County. Palm trees, fertilized lawns, swimming pools, terracotta tiles. Except we weren’t in Southern California.
We were in the West Bank. I hadn’t seen such a development it in all our road-tripping and traversing thus far in the eastern Mediterranean.
“Who lives there?” I asked.
“It’s a settlement.”
Now I knew.
Until a few months before this trip, this application of the words ‘settler’ and ‘settlement’ wasn’t in my lexicon, not when I conjured images of the Holy Land. It was the land of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; Jerusalem, Hebron, Bethlehem, and Galilee. And Jesus. Settlers and settlements? Not relevant.
You may feel the same way. It’s a foreign issue in a foreign land. If you venture to ask, the inevitable answer is: “It’s too complicated.” Founded on Israel’s Constitution and civil religion– not unlike America’s gun laws– Israel’s laws and practice on settlements are complex. And similar to America’s gun laws, these laws baffle outsiders and even many citizens. Nevertheless, there is almost a resignation in their acceptance and a powerful lobby from Christian quarters behind each. It is indeed complicated.
For many questions regarding Israel, including the settlement issue, the “it’s too complicated for me” answer settles it in our mind. It’s irrelevant. Indeed, we might think it is best to not discuss any topic regarding Israel and Palestine. We needn’t bother ourselves with extraordinary knowledge, knowledge beyond us. It is “too lofty to attain.” We are unable to reach an understanding.
This psalm-speak from Psalm 139:6 may sound familiar. It seems to offer a reason to step back and just let God take care of it. However, the knowledge the Psalmist is declaring as “too lofty” is the knowledge of God’s ways, not knowledge of a complex, earthly crisis. In Psalm 139, the psalmist rejoices that God knows us, acquaints himself with us, knows our words before we speak, and hems us in and around.
Furthermore, in Psalm 131, the psalmist humbles himself before the Lord. He lowers his eyes in submission. This posture does not indicate submission to willful ignorance, but a surrendering of pride before Jehovah. Like a weaned child, who no longer roots around for milk the moment he is in his mother’s arms, we simply rest in full confidence in the strength and care of the Lord.
We rest in complete security in God because of his character. He is good and just. He is our peace. When our souls rest in this truth, he shapes us to be his hands on earth. We might not see or understand how He does this– because his ways are higher than ours– but he has told us to submit ourselves to him as instruments of righteousness (Romans 6:13).
Quoting Psalm 131, a recent Christian opinion article argued that there is nothing of consequence Christians can do about the complex current state of affairs in Israel. “I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me” (Psalm 131:1). It’s too hard. It’s fraught and complex. Aside from pray, which is the first and foremost important step to take, there is no knowledge we can have, no words to speak, no actions to take, that would make a difference in this devastating state of affairs.
I disagree. Matthew Marten, in his award-winning 2023 release “Reforming Criminal Justice: A Christian Proposal,” shares theological reflections on relevant matters that feel too lofty, too complex and too time consuming to grasp. In Marten’s case, he shapes the complex issue of America’s criminal justice system on an examination of the biblical principles of accuracy, due process, accountability, impartiality and proportionality. If there was any question that these principles are founded in a biblical theology of justice, his careful exegesis puts some of those reservations to rest.
These principles of a just judicial system are the same principles that guide many of the ways we organize our society. Marten’s argument is transferable and relevant. It provides the lens to theologically scrutinize other issues of our day, whether issues in our home and family life or across the ocean.
We often use a base, simplistic explanation to explain complex problems. But a default Genesis Three explanation– “people are sinful”– can be an excuse to ignore God’s entire story of redemption– Genesis One through Revelation Twenty-Two. Biblical theology– a creation through redemption approach– raises appropriate questions when confronted with tragedy, crisis, or the unexplained, rather than default to a Pilate-like hand wash. Martens eschews this approach and embraces the complexity.
We must be as diligent in sharpening our biblical theology as sharpening our awareness of uncomfortable yet relevant issues. If we are less intentional in searching out the theological implications and underpinnings of our opinions, influences ungrounded in biblical theology will shape our understanding of an issue more than the words of the Living Word.
Military scientists study the tension between tactics and technology. In World War I the tactics of trench warfare and the horse cavalry led to mass killings when matched against the new technologies of chemical weapons, mechanized infantry and heavy artillery. There were many technological advances, yet initially very few tactical adjustments. It led to a protracted war that cost millions of lives. Historically, the time-phase relationship between tactics and technology vacillates. Sometimes the tactics surpass the technology. Sometimes the technology surpasses the tactics.
Sometimes we do the same in our theological lives. Our “tactics”– our practices and opinions– get far ahead of our theological reflection, the “technological” resources available through Scripture and the transforming work of the Holy Spirit on our conscience. We base the words of our mouths and the meditations of our minds on ideas that have not been scrutinized in light of God’s gracious revealing of his redemptive story. Our practices and opinions have not been examined by two millennia of Christian thought or discussed in a community of Berean-like followers of Jesus. Like WWI, our tactics can be way off, to mass casualty consequence.
For the American audience specifically, Martens presciently recognizes that “we are a particular people, in a particular moment, with particular resources. We have been given a particular stewardship that no other people have been given.” Many times the hands that dispense justice and injustice in other parts of the globe are an extension of our hands. Because we are citizens of a democratic nation with regular free and fair elections, those hands operate at our behest, on our behalf (Marten paraphrase). This is why American foreign policy, to include issues related to the Israel-Hamas war, should matter to every American Christian.
So, what is an Israeli settlement? It is something you’ve heard about for decades, but maybe never understood. It is a community and an issue. And is a sticking point on which all political solutions in Israel pivot.
For American Christians, the current situation is undeniably a theologically informed matter. Increased awareness of a theologically informed matter will create tension, discomfort. It will require us to go beyond a “people are sinful” explanation. It will require us to pray one of the hardest prayers of all– Jesus, teach me to love. Marten’s framework provides a step forward to align our tactics with theology and get to the root of the tension behind difficult topics of global– and local– significance. We needn’t be defeatists or abdicants. There is a way to love in and through this.
And yes, Christ will return and renew all things. That is our unshakable hope, not our hesitant excuse.