1 Samuel 6

Every non-vegetarian gastronome the world round has an opinion on what meat tastes the most scrumptious. John Doe might insist that nothing reaches the empyrean heights of a bone-in rib eye, while Jane Smith might aver that rack of lamb is nothing less than a taste of heaven. But I'm guessing that few foodies would claim the lowly gallus gallus domesticus--known as the chicken to common folk like you and me--as their favorite meat. I mean, when you go to an all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue, you don't exactly rush out to load up your plate with the chicken, do you?

And yet, I'm rather fond of chicken and think that it's the most consistently tasty meat. I've been to restaurants that have served poor beef, pork, and turkey, but it takes the rare culinary talents of someone like me to truly screw up cooking chicken. And while I dig a good burger, I have to say that a chicken sandwich from Chick-fil-A is sometimes even more appealing. I was introduced to Chick-fil-A rather late in life, which is probably good because their food is a good deal more expensive than the perfectly decent McChicken from McDonald's. Anyway, I often find myself agreeing with that famous Chick-fil-A advertising campaign that featured cows telling the public to "Eat Mor Chickin."

I'm going to take a wild guess and say that, if the Philistine cows in this chapter could talk, they probably would have begged the Israelites to "Eat Mor Chickin" as well. Yes, Eli's life kind of ended up sucking, but what about these cows? First, they're torn from their beloved calves (verse 10), watching as their innocent children are imprisoned before their very eyes. Truly, a tableau to rival the most tear-jerking parent/child separation scene in some heartrending Asian drama. Then, the wretched ruminants are hitched to a heavy cart laden with, among other things, gold rats and tumors (verse 11) and left to wander in the wilderness, which is probably rife with velociraptors (because don't you know? Humans and dinosaurs co-existed.) Is it really that surprising that the poor beasts are "lowing all the way" (verse 12)? But at long last--here come some rapturous humans, rejoicing at the cows' arrival (verse 13)! Has the creatures' luck finally changed? Nope--the beleaguered bovines are promptly barbecued, their edible body parts subsequently stuffed down the maws of the happy humans (verse 14).

OK, I know the real point of this chapter is that the ark gets returned to the Israel--no thanks to the Israelites, some of whom promptly take leave of their brains, look into the ark ("It's so beautiful!"), and perish (verse 19). We can never take God for granted--not when things are going well, and not when things are going wrong. And the other moral of the story is don't be a cow if you can help it. Finally consider this: 1 Samuel 6 relates the sorry tale of a pair of unfortunate cows. Chick-fil-A, the champion of bovine rights, is owned by Christians. It all makes sense!

1 Samuel 5

I know I've mentioned Raiders of the Lost Ark before, but it's such a stellar movie that my mind just can't help jumping to it whenever I think of the ark of the covenant. Anyway, according to Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and Lawrence Kasdan, if the ark is pissed off at you, it will [spoiler alert] send bolts of light through your midsection, suck out the innards from your head, melt your face off, or make your head explode [end of spoilers]. (And yes, this movie is rated PG. So if your child could handle Frozen, she'll love Raiders of the Lost Ark!) Nothing quite so visually spectacular happens in the Bible, at least not anything that was recorded. Instead, we get tumors (verses 6, 9) and an idol falling down flat on its face and shattering its extremities (verse 4).

I don't know about you, but when I hear the word "idol," I think of J-pop and K-pop idols, i.e., normal looking young men and women who decide to undergo plastic surgery, wear strata of makeup that would make Yosemite's El Capitan blush, and forgo consuming anything resembling food--all so that they can spaz around a stage while wearing extravagant items that might, in some other dimension, pass as clothing. And if that's not enough, they also enjoy the distinct pleasure of having their faces displayed in tiny boxes in the corner of a TV screen as they pretend to react to whatever the harebrained TV host is doing at that moment. But the point is that many people (mostly Asians, because Asians are weird--I would know; I'm one myself) obsess over these idols, look up to them, and maybe even worship them. (Hey, I like some idols too. They make me laugh.)

It all seems rather silly, and I suspect many K-pop or J-pop groupies know this. But I sometimes ask myself why I'm not as passionate for God as I am about my other pastimes. And these pastimes, just like the idols, are not beyond reproach. Lest we forget all the chicanery that goes into the manufacture of an idol....

Of course, no matter what one thinks of Asian "idols," no one wants to see one of them shatter his or her extremities. But seeing an idol fall flat on his or her face? Well, that would be no more or less silly--or entertaining--than the typical behavior of such illustrious personages.

1 Samuel 4

Imagine, for a moment, that you're reposing in your La-Z-Boy by the side of the road. (And why are you outside? Because you're in a freaking La-Z-Boy, and why shouldn't you be on the side of the road?) So maybe you're not totally relaxed because, well, your recalcitrant sons (perfect scoundrels, the both of them) employed attrition to convince you to let them take your McLaren P1 for a joyride through the suburbs. So while you're reclining and enjoying the smell of leaking propane from your idiot neighbor who can't operate a simple gas grill, you see the mailman run up to you, distraught. (Wait, you can't actually see him because you're blind. Did I forget to mention that? You're blind. And corpulent.) So you hear the mailman run up to you (and you know he's the mailman because you can "hear" the blue uniform he's wearing--hey, as long as this is a fantasy, why not make you a portly, 98-year-old Daredevil?), and he delivers the news you've been dreading.

Your McLaren has been stolen.

And by the way, your sons have been killed as well, but let's worry about that later because your McLaren has been stolen! Flabbergasted and grieved beyond belief, you fall off the back of your La-Z-Boy and break your neck.

The end.

Eli's life circumstances are truly pitiful, but his actual death plays like some black comedy. Actually, and I'm sure I'm not the first one to mention this, it reminds me of the last scene of The Godfather Part III. [Mild spoilers ahead, but it doesn't really matter because there's nothing really in the third Godfather movie worth spoiling.] After two epic, complex, incredible films (and one substandard one), the Godfather saga comes to an ignominious close when one of the characters dies and falls off his chair.

The serious point to come away with from this chapter is that one shouldn't try to manipulate God for one's own ends--the Israelites thought that merely bringing the ark of the covenant into battle would ensure them God's support and, more importantly from their point of view, victory. But nope--their first battle without the ark costs them 4,000 (verse 2). When they bring the ark, they lose a whopping 30,000 (verse 10). Oops.

Finally, I want to note that chapter 4 boasts not one but two fantastic names: Ebenezer (verse 1) and Ichabod (verse 21). No, I don't have anything more profound to say than that.

1 Samuel 3

All humans dream while sleeping. (I read it on the Internet, so it must be true.) However, we don't always remember our dreams--and sometimes when we do, the memory of them fades within minutes of waking up. When I was a youngling, I had many vivid dreams. I wrote about my street sweeper nightmare back in Genesis 40, but I also had many pleasant dreams as well--traveling through futuristic cities in elevator-like conveyances, befriending a dragon-like being, and, of course, dreams about going to Disneyland or some other wondrous location that always end just before I actually get there. But I no longer seem to remember my dreams much anymore; the concept of dreaming fills me with a wistful longing--it's as if part of me can't believe that I ever dreamed. And then two seconds later, I get distracted and think about something else.

The author of 1 Samuel asserts, "In those days the word of the LORD was rare; there were not many visions" (verse 1). I imagine the Israelites during the time of Eli also wondered--did God ever really talk to people so overtly, or were those just stories? From that perspective, it's understandable that it took Eli three times to realize that God was calling Samuel. On the other hand, who did Eli think was calling Samuel? Mr. Ed the talking horse? If I had been Eli, I would definitely be suspicious about some voice calling for one of my apprentices. What if it had been some nefarious Pied Piper of Shiloh fixing to lure Samuel into the middle of some magic mountain? (I myself would have no interest in a magic mountain unless it has the requisite number of flags.)

Fortunately, God, not some nefarious, ostentatiously dressed flautist, is the one calling Samuel. An unfortunately for the beleaguered Eli, God's message to Samuel is pretty much the same one that the holy messenger delivered to Eli last chapter. Samuel is understandably hesitant about relaying the message to Eli, but to his credit, Eli doesn't fly into a rage, or even whine. He accepts God's will without protest (verse 18). Eli may have screwed up as a parent, but at least he recognizes his mistakes. But at this point, the poor man can't do anything about it.

1 Samuel 2

If some quack psychic (are there any other kind?) read the dregs of my toothpaste spittle (or whatever the heck it is those charlatans do) and proclaimed, "This person is a strapping athlete of great renown," the cachinnations of those who know me would be long and loud. And I would not hesitate to join in their mirth. I never had any talent for sports, never had any desire to increase my muscle mass, and wasn't exactly the biggest fan of P.E. (Except in elementary school when we got to play with the parachute.) And yet somehow, I've found that I'm a bit of a runner. About a week ago, I ran in a half-marathon--my fourth. And partway through, I encountered the gremlin that makes all runners shudder with fear--the dreaded leg cramp. Fortunately, it didn't take me too much time to get over it.

Needless to say, I didn't get a personal best. But for the last quarter mile or so of the race, I was able to do what I've never done at the end of any of my previous half-marathons--sprint. I still had energy to spare. I realize that this situation isn't quite what Hannah had in mind in verse 4 of her prayer: "but those who stumbled are armed with strength." (For one, my sprinting at the end of the race shows that I didn't pace myself correctly.) But when I "stumbled" during the race, you can bet your top, middle, and bottom dollar that I called on God to get me through. And from there, I relied on His help to not just finish, but finish strong.

Eli's sons, on the other hand, aren't really finishing much of anything in this chapter (OK, with the exception of the sacrificial meat they're dishonestly procuring). Instead, they themselves are about to be finished. I'm struggling to think of some fancy adjective that most befits Eli's sons, but I can't come up with anything better than wrong. Swindling meat from the sacrificial offering? Wrong! Browbeating offerers of said sacrifices? Wrong! Getting it on "with the women who served at the entrance to the tent of meeting" (verse 22)? Wrong! (Now I'm starting to sound like...well, I'll refrain from entering the mire of contemporary politics.)

Basically, Eli's sons are abusing their positions of privilege and power. Nothing new and, unfortunately, not something that's going to go away anytime soon. But what makes it worse is that Eli's sons are supposed to be doing God's work. Not just the work of a business or a country. The work of God. Yes, it's easy for me to condemn them, and yes, it sucks to be Eli. But the reprimands of verses 27-36 give me pause: As a follower of Christ, I should be doing His work. Am I abusing my position if I choose to withhold God's love from others just because I don't feel like showing it? Just as I allowed God to help me through the final leg of the half-marathon, I also must allow God to perform His work in and through me. Otherwise, I'll find myself stalled with not a leg cramp but with a life cramp. (Though just what form a life cramp takes, I have no idea. Maybe it means having to make a living as a quack psychic.)

1 Samuel 1

To someone who's never been to a Disney park before, I imagine that Disneyland in California and Walt Disney World in Florida seem like similar places. Although some of the rides (which Disney calls "attractions") are similar or even identical, the two resorts are, in fact, very different places. The tl;dr is that Disneyland is tiny and Disney World, despite having only two more Disney parks that Disneyland, is gargantuan. (Shameless plug: Read my voluble thoughts on Disney World here.) When Walt Disney planned Disney World, he secretly bought up acres of land in Florida (an area the size of San Francisco) to surround his idyllic kingdom (never mind the crocodiles and mosquitos). Because once Disneyland opened, suddenly, all these seedy hotels, restaurants, and tourist traps sprung up around it.  The area got just a little more respectable when the second park, California Adventure, opened up in 2001, but the Disneyland Resort is still a fantastical theme park surrounded by chain restaurants and hotels. And because fast food chains can become magnets for drunks and reprobates, I imagine it's not exactly a rare sight to see a hammered fellow ambling outside the bag-check to the Happiest Place on Earth.

Unlike Disney parks, God's temple really is a reverent edifice worthy of respect. And yet here at the tail end of the period of the judges, it's apparently not an uncommon for drunks to wander into the Lord's house. So when Hannah fervently and earnestly prays for God to give her a son, the priest Eli sees her lips moving and thinks that she's just another one of those irksome inebriates. Notably, though, he doesn't ask her to leave; he just tells her to put away her wine (verse 14).

God does open Hannah's womb, which is interesting because God was the one who closed it in the first place (verse 6). Why He did so, spurring Hannah's husband's other wife (boy, that sounds odd) to provoke her for years and years to the point of tears (verse 7), I'm not sure. Maybe it was timing--He allowed Samuel to be born when he was so that he could help guide Israel in establishing its monarchy. And Eli's little misunderstanding was the first hint of a new age in Israel's history, an age that would bring the nation to the height of its power. Not that it was a perfect age, but a period in Israel's history that yielded the author of Psalm 23 couldn't have been all that bad.

Ruth 4

So many attractive things in life come with downsides or caveats. In the manga Usagi Drop (which translates to "Bunny Drop," and no, I have no idea what the title has to do with the story itself), a fellow named Daikichi attends his grandfather's funeral, only to find out that the old rascal had an affair and left behind a six-year-old daughter named Rin. All the family members want a piece of the inheritance, but no one wants to take care of the illegitimate child, whom they see as an ignominious disgrace. Daikichi, a single man with no parenting experience, decides to take the waif in. As you'd expect, Rin turns out to be a delightful child, which makes you wonder why the other relatives spurned her. (Admittedly, the second volume of the manga becomes downright creepy, evoking the thought, "Only the Japanese could come up with something like this." The manga was adopted into a live-action film that thankfully only focused on the comic's first volume.)

When Boaz holds an assembly with the unnamed guardian-redeemer, he presents the attractive part of his offer first, mentioning that Naomi's land needs to be redeemed. The guardian-redeemer readily agrees, probably imagining the vast flocks of sheep he can raise on this newfound land, until Boaz drops the other shoe. Yes, you can redeem the land, but there's this widow who comes with it. That's it for the guardian-redeemer, who makes a complete about-face, explaining, "I might endanger my own estate" (verse 6). To be fair, the guardian-redeemer may not have been averse to Ruth herself, but rather to the idea that the land would take the name of Ruth's dead husband (verse 5).

But Boaz understands that Ruth is not just "this widow" who comes with Naomi's land. She is a compassionate, selfless, godly, and downright awesome person. And I get the feeling that Boaz, in fact, had little doubt about how the guardian-redeemer would act. He deftly dangled a carrot in front of his nose, only to reveal that it came with a peanut--and knowing full well that the guardian-redeemer had a peanut allergy.

But from Ruth's point of view, the outcome wasn't so certain. I don't know if she was present at the town assembly--probably not, if the patriarchal nature of the Israelites was anything to go by--but just imagine the suspense she must have felt as she waited followed by the utter relief and rapture when Boaz returned triumphant. And not only does Ruth get a happy ending, but Naomi does also. She now has a "son" to raise and care for, a fact acknowledged by other Israelite women (verse 17).

Yes, Ruth's selflessness netted her a husband as well as happiness for her mother-in-law. But she couldn't have foreseen how her descendants would include King David and, eventually, Jesus Himself. Living in the here and now, it's sometimes hard to remember that some of my actions will have repercussions that I will never know in my lifetime. But the story of Ruth shows that no situation is too hopeless or dire for compassion. To appropriate a phrase from Jeff Goldblum's Ian Malcolm character from Jurassic Park, love will find a way.