“Death itself would start working backwards.”

From the moment when I read that line in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, it has taken root in my imagination. There comes this point when you realize that a great deal of this world is in the throes of entropy. Everything that lives on this planet dies. Relationships drift and then fall apart. As a sensitive child, all fo this decay frightened me. I wanted something to help us escape all this gravity. And so C.S. Lewis’ regal God-lion reminded me of a concept that is essential to all of scripture: resurrection.

What fascinates me is not so much the idea of the resurrection of the dead. I believe that is part of this grand narrative; at least I do on most days. That is the concept to which a lot of the Christian faith pays attention. Rather it is the idea that God is in the art of taking the things that are falling apart, broken, dying, and decaying and throwing it into reverse. Death does not have the final word. There is always the chance for life.

That is the image that we see in Ezekiel. It starts with a valley full of bones and God asks the prophets whether they live can live again. Ezekiel wisely answers that only God knows whether resurrection is possible. Thus God orders Ezekiel to prophesy over the bones. To go out where there is seeming hopelessness and dead ends and to preach the word of the Lord. And what is that word?

When your job revolves around questions of God, faith, and the mysteries of the universe, you need to become comfortable with an important three word phrase: I don’t know. That is not to say that there are some things that you do not know or at least about which you have an informed, educated opinion. Every person of faith should spend their lifetimes learning and seeking to know all they can about God.

There are simply times that our finitude crashes into the infinity and you realize that you don’t know that much. Like I do not know why God allows bad things to happen. I don’t believe God causes things like the Covid-19 virus or tornadoes or starving children. But I don’t know why God allows it. I hope that there is a good reason behind it. But I don’t know. When you get right down to it, there is much both good and bad about which we just don’t know.

All of which sets up what I love about this passage in John. Jesus heals a man born blind and the story veers into an episode of Law & Order: Strict Pharisee Unit. The healed man and his parents are interrogated about what happened. The second time this particular group of Pharisees are talking to the formerly blind man—who has to be confused as to why people are so upset that he has been miraculously healed—they demand that he give glory to God because Jesus has to be a sinner. You can almost hear the one playing bad cop slamming on the interrogation room table as he yells it.

What if we named places the same way that they did during biblical times? Moses named a location in this week’s passage Massah and Meribah—which respectively mean “test” and “quarrel”—because that is exactly what his people were doing in that place. They threw verbal hands and they tested God.

So what if we did that? Like if Moses ventured out to Chicago’s Navy Pier with our family this morning and saw St. Patrick’s Day revelers stumbling out to various booze cruises, might he have dubbed that place Poor Drunken Decisions? Granted, he might have looked at our family exploring pandemic-era Windy City and dubbed wherever we went Poor Sober Decisions by our actions (we changed flights last night to head home tomorrow rather than several days later as originally planned).

But it seems incredibly harsh to name a place by the terrible thing that happened there. It is true that sometimes the place was named for something wonderful that happened. Jacob gave the name Bethel or “House of God” to a place in which he had an incredible encounter with the Divine. Yet I am stuck thinking about Moses making some future Geography Bee contestant answer “Test and Quarrel.” It forces me to ponder on the places in my life that might have been dubbed Apathy or Cowardice. I don’t like to dwell in those cities, but I do need to remember that they could exist. Moses heavy-handed naming was meant to be a reminder. We need to remember that we’re fallible.

It’s a bit of insufferable cliche, but the most diehard fans of a musical act will cite the most obscure songs as their favorites. Sure, they like the hits, but they prefer Track 9 from their underrated sophomore album or the unreleased track that the band only plays during sound checks. Anyone can know an artist by the hits, but you really don’t know them until you love the deep cuts (Sometimes this is true. Have you heard U2’s “Acrobat”? It’s an unbelievable song. My absolute favorite Coldplay song is “Till Kingdom Come,” which is a hidden track on X&Y. Okay, I’m going to stop).

The Bible is a bit of a different beast than an artist’s discography. It’s the work of many different artists over thousands of years so it is not a one to one comparison. Yet it’s true that too many people know the hits, but not the deep cuts. And the Apocrypha is deeper than the deep cuts. It’s not in the Protestant biblical canon. Still it is someone’s response to an encounter with God. It’s connected, but Protestant churches don’t hold it at the same level. It’s like when Bono and The Edge composed that Broadway Spider-Man musical. That may not be a fair comparison, because Turn off the Dark was apparently crazy (but I guess you could say the same about Bel and the Dragon).

Yet you should still pay attention to the Apocrypha, because like with an artist’s b-sides, outtakes, or side projects, you might find a gem. Each week the Revised Common Lectionary often includes a reading from the Apocrypha as an alternative reading. I don’t normally pay attention to those apocryphal readings and have never considered one for Weekly Lectionary.