• FMF Redeem Linkup
Most weeks I semi-plan to write to the FMF prompt, but more often than not time gets away and then it's another Thursday evening. But I had to write about redeem! At first I wanted to beg God to redeem the time, to buy back, please to make good on all the years I know I've lost along with opportunities I can't know about but that well might have been there if I'd been present. Almost everyone would love to redeem some time, but even more, as partners with God, can we redeem the land? Climate change and environmental degradation remain major concerns for the future of Planet Earth—so much so they're in the daily mainstream news.
Unlike some people, I still have some compact discs, a.k.a. an optical music collection, and against random advice I've read, I keep them in their jewel cases and digipaks because cover art is 98% of owning physical copies of music. About ten years ago I fantasized a CD design for the Fifth Sunday of Easter and included part of the Jubilee text from Leviticus 25 on the back. This passage isn't one of the Easter 5 scripture readings in any lectionary year, yet beyond recounting salvation history during the Easter Vigil, readings during the Great Fifty Days don't emphasize the fragility, brokenness, healing, and integrity of all creation nearly enough.
23"The land shall not be sold permanently, for the land is mine; for you are strangers and sojourners with me. 24And in all the land of your possession you shall grant redemption of the land." Leviticus 25
The same word in Hebrew is ground, earth, terrain, land
, and soil
(etc.) in English. The land under our feet and beneath our built environment belongs to God, who lends it to us and charges us to "grant redemption of the land," a technical phrase tied into complexities of farming, tenancy, and stewardship arrangements in the ancient near east, yet at the same time words that connect us with God's gracious call to us to live as co-redeemers.
You probably know I could write a book about this and even planned to starting back in summer 2004. Maybe you realize I could compose a yearning story about an urban storefront church named Amen Jubilee, but time's up for this week, so I'll be back anon to redeem more of my life online. …
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