Tell It Not In Gath

Sometimes I think many of us exist almost purely to demonstrate the simple fact that the one-size-fits-all "Christian life" presented to many of us doesn't work for every Christian.  That there is a glaring difference between following the bible, and following Western, modern, American-style, nuclear-family-worshipping, church Christianity.  One is worshipping the work of our own hands.  The other is meeting something higher, ancient, deep and dark, high and blindingly bright, and letting it have its way with us.  Even if we DON'T have kids.

   I often feel like part of my "job" is to shine a light on stuff that people say but don't actually mean or do, on stuff that people do and think, but won't admit to, on stuff that's not working in Christian circles, but which we intend to keep on doing forever.  I even think my job is to shine a light on parts of the bible that people don't like. Even if people don't like that.  I'm not sure there's any way to do that kindly and without making waves.  I think making waves is actually the point, most times, when doing this kind of job.  It's all about being hard to ignore and harder to forget.  Because forgetting is the key way of avoiding this kind of intervention. And ignoring.  (Because an intervention is what this is. For people drunk on church and calling it God.)

   Because of my strong belief in the dangers of secrets, of dark places, of unmentionable topics and people; of running, Jonah-like, from past and present problems alike, I tend to bring up awkward stuff like I think it's my job.  Just when you want to have a lovely church event, if you talk to me, I'm likely to "bring up" Jonah, reeking of fish vomit, come to tell you what God might think of some of what's going on at your Happy Families Celebration of Togetherness.  I'm absolutely wonderful at parties.
   One of the lessons in the bible is that Nineveh, prophesied to by Jonah, repents, and Jerusalem, prophesied to by Jesus, doesn't.  An implicit lesson is that modern Western Christianity, prophesied to by the entire bible, is least likely of all to repent.  Of anything. More traditionally complacent and smug than either of her precursors.  More likely to punish and silence prophets who won't "speak unto us" encouraging and uplifting, positive messages, than either of them ever were.

   When I vomit up Jonah, and refer to stuff we actually do, I've been told by more than one person, more than once, "Okay, but 'tell it not in Gath,' right?"
   I grew up on this expression.  It kinda means "Don't talk about bad stuff we're doing.  People might hear.  Outsiders particularly."
   This out of context expression actually comes from 1 Samuel and from Micah.  It is uttered by Micah, in vain, upon receiving the news that the people of Israel are about to be judged by God for their unrepentant ways.  No doubt he's quoting David, king of Israel, when God had let the Philistines (many of whom lived in Gath) kill Jonathan.  So, judgment's come or is coming, Israel won't listen, and her predicted fall is something one should not tell the enemies of Israel because the Gathites are going to delight in her downfall, and their part in it.

   And it's not God saying "tell it not in Gath."  God's the One Who brought their downfall, of which they are ashamed, remember.  He is the Author of the "it" that Micah and David say not to tell in Gath.  Because the "it" isn't the sin.  It's the judgment from God.
  The people who are guilty and being judged are saying this.  Uselessly.  The people who don't want the shame of their divine judgment seen.  It's the figleaf apron of Adam.  When the Philistines killed Jonathan at Gilboa, they knew right well what had befallen Jonathan, as they had just done it personally.  "Tell it not in Gath" couldn't mean "hide this information."  There was no point in hiding it.  There was no way of hiding it.  Don't tell Gath that they killed Jonathan?  They knew.  They did it on purpose and everything.  They came the next morning and stripped those bodies, too.  They cut off Saul's head and hung his body on a wall.  The statement "tell it not" is pure rhetoric.  Empty speech-making.  Expressing a broken heart, not giving advice and setting policy.
   The expression is repeated in  Micah when God is coming to judge Israel for chronic idolatry.  It's a lament by the prophet himself when judgment is announced on him and his people, rather than an instruction from God to not mention the iniquities currently being (unrepentantly) carried on with.  And they weren't only to mention the iniquity. They were to repent of it.  It was too late, but even so...

So, it's not a message in the bible saying "Don't talk about the secret bad stuff our group has just done, and is currently doing, and is about to do, some more.  Keep that stuff quiet.  Don't let the neighbours know."  That's not it at all.

   Really, when used that way, it's just a fancy, Brethren way of saying "Don't air your dirty laundry." Nothing remotely biblical in that idea.  What I think is the biblical thing to do, should laundry get dirty, as laundry inevitably does, is wash the laundry, and then put the sparkling clean, mended laundry out on the line in the sun.  Showing the neighbours that you wash and mend your laundry. Much better "testimony" than perpetually empty clotheslines and a sickening smell coming out your windows.
   Of course, you can waste time in traditionally Christian ways: "But it's not dirty.  What laundry?  It's organic, gluten-free feces.  I'm saving it.  My Mother died in that laundry and I vowed, that night, to never wash it again!"
   But that way, repentance is never going to happen.  And there is no hope.  And there will be no blessing.  And judgment is coming.

   Thing is, to belabour the analogy to a nearly biblical degree, if we all live in a dark house (and let's face it, we as Christians do), with each of our church groups claiming separate rooms that no one else is allowed into? And allegations are made that, perhaps someone nearby has surely crapped the bed? There is an obvious course of action.  And there needs to be action.  There are spiritual health concerns.  Visiting people will certainly smell the rising fecal aroma of those effluvient sheets, and everyone who lives there will too.  In fact, the neighbours almost certainly live close enough to catch a whiff.  And we have to eat in that House.  Children have to grow up there.

Now, church Christianity has a long tradition, which is either to deny that any of said sheets have surely been shat, or to blame it on "Them, in that room down the hall.  Not us.  The woman thou gavest me.  Those Baptists/Calvinists.  The ones with the funny doctrine.  Nothing to do with us... WE have no need of them."  There is also a tradition of punishing and shunning anyone who complains about the odour.  "No church is perfect...," they trail off with weak smiles.  They trail off a lot.

   Denial is definitely something we Christians have always historically done.  Despite the smell, despite everyone knowing.  Because normally we know.  And why would we deny there are soiled sheets in the room and pretend that's not going on, or that it's only causing trouble to want to wash them?  Why would we forbid the matter being mentioned and punish people who talk about it?  If our own sheets have themselves been soiled, and we pull them up over our heads to hide from the problem, this will certainly help with the illusion that any other soiled sheets might be purely rumour.  Will also give us ample motive for denial and evasion.
   We don't come to Jesus because there's nothing wrong with us.  We come to him because stuff is always wrong with us.

And if Jesus means anything to you, what you have to do if denial is the prevalent thing, is you have to bring people right into the room with the soiled sheets and say "Can't you smell that?  Let's do some spring cleaning.  No heads will roll.  Some sheets might get washed, though.  Who's got soap?"  The clean have no need of a washing. There might need to be some plain speaking, of course.  Heaven forfend. In Christian circles, too.  But you can try.

   There are traditional responses to that too.  No doubt you've heard them: "How dare you?  It's not your job to do this.  It's not done.  Everything was fine before you got involved.  It's all in your head. You're not perfect, so you have to shut up. You're just here to make trouble.  Why are we even in here?  How is this edifying?  Who are you anyway?  We're having such a lovely time.  Tell it not in Gath, brother.  Why don't you go to a different room up the hall and we'll 'bless you in your going?'  We think you'd be happier over there.  Tarry not in the plain."

   Well, then maybe you draw back the shades of the window and let some light in (unless you're Taylorite Exclusive Brethren, whose meeting rooms can have no windows, and they don't allow other Christians in anyway), or you could bring in a candle and have an honest look at the soiled sheets in question.

   But maybe that's not allowed, traditionally.  There may well be a very traditional, strict Room Policy clearly mandating no excess illumination be allowed.  So in desperation, you go in, grab the sheets and take them out into the back yard and say "Look at these sheets, though!  Out here where we can clearly see them. They are filthy with abuses of power, arrogance, hypocrisy, complacency, smug self-congratulation and vapid time-wastage, the manipulation and abuse of teenagers and new Christians, the twisting of children and any number of other kinds of pungent crap!  And we live here.  We are all Christians, or we claim to be.  We all have to smell this when we're trying to eat the Lord's Supper.  The neighbours can smell it.  The Spiritual Health Department has likely been called already and may be on their way here as we speak!  And all we're trying to do is share What We Have with the neighbours.  And we wonder why they want nothing to do with us..."

   But "Don't air your dirty laundry!  Tell it not in Gath!" is what you will traditionally be told, as the thought police arrive to take you away, so those soiled sheets can be quickly re-installed on the bed in question, soiled corners neatly tucked in, duvet thrown over top and Febreeze sprayed into the air.  Because actually washing them would be an admission of filth.  And if the System makes mistakes, its own legitimacy is in question.  And we need the System we made with our own hands, according to the plans handed down from our fathers.  We can't be Christians without following the Christian System we made.  And so we make sacrifices.  We avoid certain corners of reality.
    Gone are the days of looking into matters.  These are the days of "Innocent until it hits the papers."

But you're gone, as far as they're concerned, anyway.  It's Sunday and you're elsewhere, so you don't exist, anymore.  You're in a different room, so you have no connection to them.  "So much nicer without that weird trouble-maker. So glad we crucified him and his family.  It was for the best. I don't smell anything. Do you?  Didn't he know not to tell it in Gath? That's what I like about us.  We don't tell it in Gath.  We know how to tolerate people and get along.  We are forgiving.  There's a time and a place to deal with garbage.  And it's not in this life! It's not our job!  No church is perfect, right?  That's what I like about us.  We know that.  And I love Febreeze.  Can we spray some more, please, though?  Like, right now?"
   And generations rise up who feel that the pungent smell of curdled excrement is what church smells like.  It's holy.

   That's our culture.  When sheets are shat and there's gossip to be told in Gath?  We are all trained to reflexively tell one another: "Don't talk about it.  (About the thing about which there is nothing to say.)  No one's perfect.  You're not perfect, so you can't talk about it.  And why would you want to anyway?  It's not edifying. It's not uplifting.  Whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are honourable, whatsoever things are uplifting, whatsoever things are positive, whatsoever things make me feel yummy in my Jesus-lovin' tummy..."

I'm a big believer in the widespread dangers inherent in secrets, in people and stuff one isn't permitted to mention.  I believe it necessitates divine intervention and brings judgment upon us.

   I think blessing is better.  I think repentance brings blessing.  I think denial and fleeing and hiding are the opposite. I think they explain a lack of blessing.  And I don't feel safe when they're traditional.