Introduction to Part A by Marty Solomon

Trust: Goodness and Rest

Readings

• Genesis 1:1–2:3
• 2 Chronicles 36:20–21
• Hebrews 3:12–4:7

Silent Reflection

After reading the Scriptures for this week, take some time to simply pause and reflect before moving on to the remarks.

Remarks

What is the nature of the world we inhabit today? Is it fundamentally good, in need of renewal? Or is it fundamentally broken, in need of replacement? What do you see when you look at the world?

The rabbis talk at great length about the principles of ayin tovah and ayin ra’ah — the “good eye” and the “bad eye.” If one has a good eye, they see the world in light of its potential goodness and possibility; they have a belief that goodness and light is driving the direction of our experience. Conversely, if one has a bad eye, they see the world through the lens of scarcity and potential disaster; they have a fear that darkness and depravity is going to screw up the story.

How do we develop one kind of eyesight or the other? By the stories we listen to. Different stories shape the eyes we see with, and how we engage with those stories is deeply important.

On the one hand, there is this dominant narrative that has popped up in different forms throughout the ages: an essential belief in cosmic conflict. The belief that underneath it all, there is a fundamental problem. And unless that problem is solved, we are all doomed. Defeated. Cursed. Condemned.

At times in history, this narrative appeared in the form of polytheism. The gods were in a great cosmic war and the facts of our earthly creation and experience were the byproducts of their battles. We experienced strife and destruction because these were the forces that shaped the created world itself. Your best chance for a positive outcome was to fool or manipulate the gods to arrange the cosmic pieces in your favor.

This story has shown up in different forms since then: nihilism, imperialism, colonialism, tribalism. It has even made a sophisticated and systematic appearance in the world of Christian theology and faith — the belief that all creation is fundamentally broken and our sinful depravity is the fundamental truth of our existence.

Now, there is certainly no denying the deep and profound ways in which we experience struggle and darkness in our world. Without a doubt, there are massive problems and incredible brokenness in our world. Sin is a real danger on personal, relational, corporate, social, and systemic levels. There can be no reasonable perspective that denies the reality and impact of disaster in our lives. But is that all? Is that the essence of this world and the people in it?

Because on the other hand, there is an alternative narrative in Hebrew scriptures — the story of God — set out in the first pages to undo this misconception of doom and defeat, insisting instead that, in the midst of the brokenness, there is wholeness. Even in a world coated with badness, if you were to scrape it away you would find goodness underneath. The basalt-ridden landscape surrounding a volcano is indeed hard, cracked, lifeless, and black. But that is only the surface of things. The underlying reality is that the vast majority of the mass of this planet is actually brilliant, pulsing hot, life-giving, radiant magma. In spite of massive darkness, there is light; in spite of pervasive death, there is life. And, crucially, this alternative narrative insists that, far from being some far-off, optimistic hope of the future, this has always been and continues to be the world’s fundamental truth. This is where it all began and this is where it begins for us.

This narrative invites us to be people of ayin tovah.

Before it ever gets to acknowledging the badness and the brokenness of the world (which it certainly does), this story insists on teaching us a very important lesson, one that we skip over at our peril: The world God made and the world that still endures is blessed and good. Very good, even. The danger of moving on before we learn this lesson is immense. We invite the possibility of being focused on the problems so much that we end up redefining our fundamental existence by them. This is undoubtedly what much of our Christian theology has done. With a slight nod to the goodness of creation and an acknowledgement of the authority of the Creator, we race ahead to the next story, start our lesson a couple chapters later than we ought to, and begin with the wrong perspective: that of ayin ra’ah.

Before we meet Adam and Eve, before we take a stroll in the garden, we are invited to learn a very important practice — the practice of trusting this story of goodness.

How does this narrative suggest we learn it? Well, it will not be done quickly or easily. It will come through retraining our spiritual assumptions and our neural pathways. If we commit ourselves to the faithfulness of Sabbath, to the practice of rest, we will learn how to start believing in a better story that will have the potential to redefine everything in our experience.

This practice is both a reminder and subversive act. It is a reminder of what is most true about our world, no matter what our experience tries to tell us. It is a reminder that goodness, life, potential, possibility, love, acceptance, and grace lie at the heart of creation. They are the native species of this world. It is a reminder that death, disease, cancer, selfishness, greed, exclusion, and injustice are an invasive species — intruders that must be done away with.

And it is an act of subversion against this pervasive motif of darkness that seeks to define our worth, set our pace, and demand our attention. It is a willful act of setting our gaze on what we believe to be true, what we trust in God’s story, over and against what we fear and what we feel.

Trusting in the goodness. Resting in the trust. Entering the rest.

Silent Reflection

Once again, take some time to pause, reflect, and listen.

Response for the Week

Return to this week’s Scriptures each day as you respond throughout the week.

1. Where is one area of your life that you struggle with ayin ra’ah (the bad eye)?
2. Do you practice Sabbath or other intentional disciplines of rest? If so, do they accomplish these ideas, or do you think they could with some adjustments? If you don’t, do you think this has significant potential to make a difference?
3. What new practices or ideas would the group like to experiment with in the coming weeks? (Have someone in the group keep track of further discussions in the coming weeks.)