When Worship and Life Drift Apart

Both readings today speak with a sharpness that may unsettle us but it is the sharpness of a physician’s scalpel, not a weapon. God is not condemning for the sake of condemning. He is calling His people back to integrity, back to a faith that is lived and not merely displayed.

Through the prophet Isaiah, God addresses leaders who are very religious on the surface. They offer sacrifices. They observe rituals. They show up for worship. And yet God says something shocking: “I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.” In other words, religious activity has become disconnected from moral conversion.

So God does not ask for more prayer, more offerings, or more public devotion. Instead, He says: “Wash yourselves clean. Put away your misdeeds. Learn to do good. Make justice your aim.” God is not rejecting worship. He is rejecting worship that does not change how people live.

Jesus makes the same point in the Gospel from Matthew, though He directs it squarely at religious leaders. The scribes and Pharisees know the law. They teach correctly. But Jesus says they “do not practice what they teach.” Faith has become something they perform rather than embody.

Jesus’ concern is not with leadership itself, but with leadership that seeks recognition instead of responsibility. Titles, honors, places of importance—these become substitutes for humility. And when faith becomes about being seen, it quietly stops being about being faithful.

At the heart of both readings is a single question God asks every generation:
Does your worship shape your life or does it simply decorate it?

God desires a people whose prayer leads to justice, whose knowledge of the law leads to mercy, and whose closeness to God leads to humility. That is why Jesus ends with a simple but demanding truth: “Whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Humility, in Scripture, is not thinking less of ourselves it is living honestly before God, allowing Him to align our words, our worship, and our actions. It is choosing consistency over appearance, conversion over comfort, obedience over applause.

Today’s readings invite us to examine not how religious we appear, but how deeply our faith is shaping our daily choices: how we speak, how we forgive, how we treat the vulnerable, and how we seek God when no one is watching.

If we are willing to listen, God still speaks the same promise Isaiah proclaimed: “If you are willing, and obey, you shall eat the good things of the land.”

Not because we performed well but because we allowed our hearts to be changed.


Image credit: CANVA, “a sailboat adrift” AI generated, downloaded Mar-1-2026

Dialogue within Japan

The previous posts focused on the internal dialogue within the United States government during the period January into June, 1941. The focus was limited to the Departments of State, Treasury, Army (War) and Navy; the office of the President of the United States; and even included independent non-governmental agents helping/confusing depending on one’s perspective. The positions and approaches on how to best engage the Japanese government were varied, sometimes inconsistent, and largely reactive to Japanese actions. The State Department under the leadership of Cordell Hull consistently advanced Hull’s “Four Principles” which were end-states of diplomacy without interim checkpoints and thus lacking in measured concrete progress. Within the Far East Division of State there were proponents of assertive action and response as well as those who wanted to always engage Japan diplomatically. The Treasury Department was largely “let’s use the financial tools available” and bring Japan’s aggression to heal. But, from that same department, the White Proposal took an approach which addressed material and non-materials concerns of Japan in measured and concrete ways. And then there was the President, Franklin D. Roosevelt, who preferred one-on-one meetings between leaders to make decisions.

That was a high-level view of the milieu in the U.S. What about in Japan?

Japan’s Internal Debates on the United States 

In the first half of 1941 the idea of war between Japan and the U.S. was not considered inevitable or even desirable. It was a period of strategic uncertainty, factional rivalry, economic anxiety, and diplomatic improvisation within Tokyo. Although Japan had already been at war in China for nearly four years, its leadership remained divided on how to consider the United States. Should they should be deterred, negotiated with, or ultimately confronted. Between January and June 1941, the Japanese government under Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe wrestled with three interlocking questions:

  1. Could the China War be ended on terms acceptable to Japan?
  2. Should Japan align more deeply with Germany?
  3. Could conflict with the United States be avoided without abandoning imperial gains on mainland Asia? During the first half of 1941 this meant Manchuria, parts of Northern China, every major sea port in China, Taiwan (Formosa), Korea, and Northern French Indochina (North Vietnam)

The answers varied depending on whether one looked at political leaders, diplomats, or the armed services.

Political Circles: Konoe and the Problem of Survival

Prime Minister Konoe presided over a fragile civilian government increasingly overshadowed by military influence. In part by Meiji Constitution and in part by practice, the military occupied a minimum of four cabinet positions (Army, Navy, Army Minister, Navy Minister). If any one of them objected to a government policy or proposal, they simply resigned. This meant the Prime Minister had to form a new government and, as often was the case, the military refused to assign a new cabinet member until it received assurances that decisions would be in their favor. The Prime Minister had to navigate these waters.

Politically, three broad positions existed within the political arena: the pragmatists, the hardliners, and the diplomats. Prime Minister Konoe, cabinet members outside the military, leaders of key industries and others formed the “Pragmatists” view. They recognized Japan’s strategic weakness relative to the United States, especially in industrial capacity and oil supply. They favored:

  • Continued negotiations with Washington
  • A possible summit between Konoe and Roosevelt
  • Limited concessions (e.g., partial withdrawal from China under conditions)
  • Avoiding a two-front confrontation while Germany was at war with Britain

This group did not advocate abandoning imperial gains, but rather modulating expansion to avoid provoking U.S. intervention. However, Konoe’s weakness was structural. The military retained constitutional autonomy, and he lacked the authority to compel strategic compromise on their part, and sometimes to even control the military.

Right-wing politicians and ideological nationalists formed the group of “Hardliners” and by-in-large had the support of key elements within the military. The hardliners framed U.S. pressure and especially its support for China, as hostile interference in Japan’s rightful sphere. While not yet uniformly calling for immediate war, they increasingly depicted confrontation as inevitable. They argued that:

  • The United States’ goal was to strategically control Japan economically, tightening or loosing controls as needed until Japan complied with U.S. demands.
  • The Sino-Japanese War must be seen through to a political reordering of East Asia in which Japan established its own version of the Monroe Document. As the U.S. did in Central America and the Caribbean to eliminate despots and bandits, so too was China doing in China where war lords and the Chinese communists were disrupting peace and Japanese interests.
  • Any retreat from already achieved mainland Asia gains would undermine imperial prestige and internal cohesion and ultimately lead to losing it all.

The Diplomatic Circles were mostly associated with the Japanese Foreign Ministry. Unlike the U.S. where Cordell Hull had been in charge of the nation’s diplomacy, from 1930 until the end of 1941 Japan had ten different Foreign Ministers serving in 13 different cabinets. The high turnover reflected the instability of Japanese politics, the growing influence of the military, and the intensifying internal divisions over diplomacy toward China, the Tripartite Pact, and negotiations with the United States. Within the Foreign Ministry, debate was intense and more nuanced than often assumed and was not always clear to U.S. leaders who depended on Ambassador Joseph Grew whose connections were with the moderate wing of the government and was not always able to discern the shifting alliances and currents within the Japanese government. 

Within Tokyo some diplomats favored a modus vivendi, a temporary freeze on expansion into other Asian countries in exchange for economic relief. Others believed U.S. policy was fundamentally hostile and would not accept Japan’s position in China under any conditions other than full withdrawal. An intrinsic problem was always China because Japan’s government was always reacting to independent decisions being made in China by the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA). Japan never had a policy or “end game” for China. As a result, diplomats lacking concrete instructions were often negotiating without authority or substance regarding the central issue: China. 

When Admiral Nomura was sent to Washington DC, he was sent without instructions regarding any aspect of U.S.-Japanese relations and trouble spots – and yet was expected to steer the relationship away from confrontation with the U.S.  Nomura, who had spent extensive time in the U.S. believed that war with the U.S. would be catastrophic. As a result his default position was incremental compromise to stabilize relationships and renormalize trade. This likely created the environment where Nomura was drawn into the Maryknoll/John Doe dialogue and then later private negotiations with Secretary Hull. The effect was 6 months passed and U.S.-Japanese relations were as they had been since the beginning of 1941.

Debate within the Imperial Army and Navy

The most consequential debates occurred within the armed forces, particularly between the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) and the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). The Army remained focused primarily on securing victory in China and guarding against Soviet Union incursion into Manchuria (the northern strategy). However, after Germany invaded the Soviet Union in June 1941, Army factions renewed the debate about striking north into Siberia while the Soviets were occupied on the eastern front.

Even before June, many Army leaders believed economic strangulation by the U.S. would force Japan’s hands to launch offensive military action to the resource-rich Southwest Pacific. That said, in early 1941 the Army had not yet finalized a decision for war with the United States but knew that the southern expansion would increase the likelihood of war with the Americans.

The Navy’s position was paradoxical and was increasingly the more important voice from military circles. Senior naval leaders recognized U.S. industrial superiority., understood a long war would likely end in Japanese defeat, and yet believed that if war came, it must begin with a decisive blow to take the U.S. out of the conflict for a period while Japan consolidated gains in the south and created a defensive zone to the east against the U.S. fleet. In early 1941, many in the Navy preferred avoiding war if possible but in any case to have more time for adequate preparation. 

But there was a contingent of naval officers that understood the U.S. was in the midst of  building a two-ocean navy with the 1940 signing of the Naval Expansion Act. The act authorized the U.S. Navy to build 18 aircraft carriers, 7 battleships, 33 cruisers, 115 destroyers, 43 submarines, 15,000 aircraft, and 100,000 tons of auxiliaries. It was thought that a surprise attack was necessary, but the policy was not settled.

Economic Realities and Strategic Anxiety

Among all the groups, a central driver of debate was oil. Japan imported roughly 80% of its oil from the United States. By early 1941 U.S. export controls were tightening, Japanese reserves were finite and economic planners warned of severe vulnerability as the military operations continued to draw down oil reserves. The strategic dilemma became increasingly stark:

  • Concede in China to preserve economic survival?
  • Or seize resource-rich Southeast Asia (Dutch East Indies) and risk U.S. war?

This tension simmered throughout the first half of 1941 but did not fully crystallize until after July.

By June 1941, Japan had not yet decided on war with the United States. Japan’s internal debate was characterized by:

  • Political fragility within Konoe’s government
  • Diplomatic efforts lacking decisive authority
  • Military contingency planning without full consensus
  • Growing anxiety over economic vulnerability

The period was one of conditional escalation rather than inevitability. War became likely only when the internal  debates (oil, China, and southern expansion) collapsed into a consensus after the summer crisis of 1941: the invasion of Southern French Indochina and the subsequent U.S. economic freeze and oil embargo. Any settlement that required major withdrawal was politically impossible at home in Japan.


Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archive. |

The Conversation: Part 1

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we delved into all might be implied in the simple opening which tells us where and when. We raised the question of whether it was simple geographical information or was St. John providing theological clues and breadcrumbs. Now we begin to consider the dialogue that ensues. The dialogue between Jesus and the Samaritan woman consists of thirteen exchanges, one of the longest dialogues in the Gospel. It is divided into two sections, each section introduced by a request/command by Jesus: (I ) vv.7-15 (“Give me a drink”); (2) vv.16-26 (“Go, call your husband”).

Verse 7 is filled with OT images that figure prominently in the rest of the narrative: “A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” First, Jesus’ request for water recalls the story of Elijah and the widow of Sidon (1 Kgs 17:10-11). In both stories a man interrupts a woman engaged in household work to request a gesture of hospitality. The parallels between Elijah and Jesus suggest the image of Jesus as prophet, a theme that will occupy a pivotal place in Jesus’ conversation with the woman (4:19).

Second, the scene of a man and a woman at a well recalls the betrothal stories of Isaac (Gen 24:10-61), Jacob (Gen 29:1-20), and Moses (Ex 2:15b 21). John 4:4-42 evokes these betrothal stories in order to rework their imagery, however. The story of the wedding feast (2:1-11) and John the Baptist’s parable (3:29) have already introduced wedding imagery into the Fourth Gospel as images of eschatological joy and fulfillment. It is in that context that the messianic/bridal symbolism has credence. Unlike the OT well scenes, Jesus does not come to the well looking for a woman to be his bride, but for a witness who will recognize the Messiah and bring the marginalized and despised people to faith in Him. In the fact that a Samaritan woman becomes that witness (vv.28-30, 39-42).

The Samaritan woman responds to Jesus’ request with amazement because it violates two societal conventions. First, a Jewish man did not initiate conversation with an unknown woman. Moreover, a Jewish teacher did not engage in public conversation with a woman (“Hence the sages have said: He that talks much with womankind brings evil upon himself and neglects the study of the law and at the last will inherit Gehenna.” p.’Abot 1:5) Second, Jews did not invite contact with Samaritans. The Fourth Evangelist’s aside in v.9 underscores the seriousness of the breach between Jews and Samaritans. A fear of ritual contamination developed into a prohibition of all social interaction.

Instead of answering the woman’s question directly, Jesus invites her to answer her question herself (“If you knew…”). If the woman could recognize the identity of the person with whom she speaks, a dramatic role reversal will take place. The woman would be the one who requests water. “Living water” (hydor zon). As with ańothen from the encounter with Nicodmus, hydor zon has two possible meanings. It can mean fresh, running water (spring water as opposed to water from a cistern), or it can mean living/life-giving water. Once again, Jesus intentionally uses a word with a double meaning..

The Samaritan woman hears only the meaning “running water” in Jesus’ words and so responds to his offer of living water with protests of logical and material impossibility (cf. Nicodemus, 3:4). It is not credible to her that a man who has just asked her for water because he was unable to acquire any for himself should now offer her fresh running water (v.11 a). Her protest leads to a question, “Where then can you get that hydor zon?” (v.11b). This question, like other questions about the origins of Jesus’ gifts (1:29; 2:9; 3:8; 6:5), is ironically charged. The question operates on two levels simultaneously—it makes sense to ask a man with no bucket where he will get water, but the question can also be asked of Jesus’ gift of living water. The irony arises because the reader knows the appropriateness of the question on both levels, but the woman is wary – still clinging to the practical (bucket/deep), but perhaps possessing a sense of the greater things in play (living water).

The woman’s question in v.12 (Are you greater than our father Jacob) is a universally recognized instance of Johannine irony. The immediate source of its irony is clear: for the Fourth Evangelist and most of his readers, Jesus is greater than Jacob, while the woman seems to assume the opposite. (The question is introduced by the interrogative in the Greek text, a construction that anticipates a negative reply: “You are not greater than Jacob, are you?” (cf. 8:53)). Since Jesus has no visible means with which to draw water, the woman’s question seems to imply that only a miracle similar to the one tradition attributed to Jacob at Haran could produce the water. The woman’s response to Jesus is a challenge to match the gift of one of the great forebears of the faith.

Jesus responds to the woman’s challenge by focusing on the permanent effect of the two waters on thirst. Jacob’s gift may have been miraculous and its abundance legendary, but it could not assuage thirst permanently (v.13). Jesus’ gift of living water will, however, do just that (v.14): but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life. 

The contrast between the two waters recalls Isa 55:1-2 (“everyone who thirsts,/ come to the waters”). Jesus’ description of his gift of water in v.14 clarifies the meaning of the expression “living water”: Jesus offers water that gives life. Those who drink from Jesus’ water “will never thirst” (lit., “will not be thirsty forever”), because his water will become “in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (v.14). In John 7:37-39 Jesus’ gift of living water is associated with the gift of the Spirit, and it is possible to see that connection in v.14 as well.

The Samaritan woman responds enthusiastically to Jesus’ words (v.15a), but her enthusiasm misses the point. The motivation for her request—that she would no longer have to come back to the well (v.15b)—shows that she has not yet grasped the radical nature of Jesus’ gifts. She continues to see Jesus through her categories of physical thirst and miraculous springs, and so she does not understand the meaning of his “living water.” Her request is ironic to the reader, because it is the right request for the wrong reasons (cf. 6:34).

On the one hand, then, v.15 sounds a note of failure. Although by her request for water the Samaritan woman is seemingly doing what Jesus had earlier said she should do (v.10) – yet she does not know for what she is asking or of whom she is asking it. She thinks that Jesus is a miracle worker who can provide her with extraordinary water. Her misperception is the source of the irony of her response for the reader, because the conversation has led the reader to see that something more is at stake in these verses.

On the other hand, v.15 sounds a note of hope, however embryonic: The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” The woman has gained considerable ground in this conversation. She has moved from seeing Jesus as a thirsty Jew who knowingly violates social convention to seeing him as someone whose gifts she needs. At the beginning of the conversation, Jesus’ words about living water seemed preposterous to her, empty boasts by a man without a bucket (v.11), but in v.15, she believes that Jesus can give water that will assuage her thirst. The woman’s openness to Jesus and her willingness to engage him in conversation stand in marked contrast to Nicodemus, who only greeted Jesus with amazement and resistance (3:4, 9). The Samaritan woman recognizes neither Jesus’ true identity nor the fullness of his gifts, but in v.15, she is willing to receive what she thinks he is offering and hence to acknowledge her need of him.


Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

A Litany for Our Life

What did you take away from today’s readings?  Before reading on, take a moment. Click on the link and peruse the readings for today. What are the one or two notions or ideas that stand out for you? We’ll wait…

The first reading is largely a confession of sin, a lament and recounting of all that the people of God have done that led to the Babylonian Exile and the ensuing tribulation. It is a prayer by the prophet Daniel as he meditates on Jeremiah’s prophecy that seventy years would pass while Judah remained desolate and its people captive. As ponders he also does penance and fasts. It is a very Lenten scene.

Daniel offers a prayer that opens with a frank confession of the disobedient sinfulness of the covenant people. Then just beyond the scope of our reading, Daneil recalls God’s graciousness in leading the people out of Egypt and God’s justice in punishing Jerusalem. Then Daniel petitions God to deliver the holy city and the nation that bears God’s name. He does so in a threefold request which is akin to an Old Testament version of Kyrie eleison or “Lord, have mercy.”

The Responsorial Psalm is, in its way, also a frank confession of our sad condition in the valley of tears – we are sinners who acknowledge the justice due to the Lord and yet we hope: “Remember not against us the iniquities of the past; may your compassion quickly come to us. Lord, do not deal with us according to our sins.

Then in the Gospel, after all our pleading, God doesn’t not recount our sins, does not lecture us on the justice due the Lord, the litany from our loving God is this: Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. Do these things and “Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing.

A litany for life: Be merciful…stop judging…forgive.

Like Daniel, people of Faith are quite good at recounting their sins. But as a priest and confessor it seems to me, like the first reading, we stop short. We fail to recall God’s graciousness and loyal love. Like the psalmist we are good at asking the Lord to not remember our sins and to be compassionate. And yet, even when forgiven, we are a people who not only recall our failures, but dwell on them, failing to let the compassion of the Lord infuse our souls in a way that we are able to be compassionate with ourselves.

Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. We are better at doing that for others than ourselves as though it is a litany for every life except our own.

Be merciful…stop judging…forgive. These are Jesus’ words, akin to a divine version of Kyrie eleison. It is the Lord’s prayer for us about ourselves.


Image credit: “Kyrie Eleison” by Soichi Watanabe, Japan; used with permission

The White Plan

I wonder how many readers know the name “Harry Dexter White.” Not a lot I suspect. I know that I didn’t before researching and writing this series. White is best known as the high-ranking U.S. Treasury official and influential economist who served as a primary architect of the postwar international financial system. As a key aide to Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau Jr., White was the creative mind that led to the creation of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank agreed to at the 1944 Bretton Woods Conference. He served as the first U.S. executive director of the IMF in 1946. He was accused in 1948 of spying for the Soviet Union, which he adamantly denied. Although he was never a Communist party member, his status as a Soviet informant was confirmed by declassified FBI documents related to the interception and decoding of Soviet communications, known as the Venona Project. Shortly after defending himself against these charges before Congress, White died of a heart attack in August 1948.

…and what does this have to do with the Asia Pacific War? White served as the director of the Division of Monetary Research and later as Assistant Secretary of the Treasury, shaping U.S. financial policy during World War II. In May 1941 he began a draft of a bold proposal to change the direction and tone of U.S. negotiations with Japan. The draft proposal was submitted to Treasury Secretary Morgenthal on June 6, 1941. As part of the submission, the background briefing described White’s view of the pattern of diplomacy that had been the craft of the Secretary of State Hull:

“19th century patterns of petty bargaining with its dependence upon subtle half promises, irritating pin prinks, excursions into double dealing, and copious pronouncements of good will alternating with vague threats – and all of it veiled in an atmosphere of high secrecy designed or at least serving chiefly to hide the essential bareness of achievement…Where modern diplomacy calls for swift and bold action, we engage in long drawn out cautious negotiations; where we should talk in terms of billions of dollars, we think in terms of millions; where we should measure success by the generosity of the government that can best afford it, we measure it by the sharpness of the bargain driven; where we should be dealing with all embracing economic, political and social problems, we discuss minor trade objectives or small national advantages; instead of squarely facing realities, we persist in enjoying costly prejudices; where we should speak openly and clearly, we engage in protocol, in secret schemes and subtleties.”

To put it mildly, he was not a fan of Hull’s modus operandi. From his position at Treasury he had watched 4 years of ineffective diplomacy as the nation moved closer to war. White believed it was time for boldness and one that addressed Japan’s interests more broadly than “stop aggression.”

The White Plan

Drafted before the de facto oil embargo and before Japan’s move into southern Indochina, Washington still hoped to avoid war through phased de-escalation. Perhaps the key feature of the June draft of the White Plan was that there was no demand for immediate and total Japanese withdrawal from China. The draft indicated that a gradual, staged withdrawal, tied to restoration of peace in China and stabilization of East Asia was acceptable.  Implicitly, if not explicitly, the draft offered continued recognition of Japan’s existing position in Manchuria. The tone and emphasis was on non-aggression, respect for national sovereignty, and equal commercial opportunity in the region. To that end, the draft proposed that Japan would halt further expansion and that the U.S. would resume trade, including oil, under controlled conditions. The plan anticipated a multilateral framework involving China and other powers, but without forcing immediate regime change or humiliation of the current aggressive Japanese governing system. This version assumed that China policy could evolve over time and that Japan might be persuaded to disengage without losing face.

The June draft’s resumption of trade envisioned a restoration of the U.S.–Japanese trade, including strategic materials; unfreezing of Japanese assets under controlled conditions; renewed Japanese access to dollar earnings through exports so as to reduce pressure on the yen and improved Japan’s balance-of-payments position which was becoming an increasingly unmanageable problem. White’s draft reflected the belief that some economic relief could reinforce moderation in Japanese policy and give any moderate element in the Japanese government some leverage during internal debates. From a trade perspective the language of the June draft reveals White’s view that U.S. policy was treating Japan as a second tier power rather than a negotiating partner – which was a Japanese complaint for all of the 20th century up to 1941. White’s thinking was incremental: first stabilize behavior, then normalize trade and only then consider deeper financial engagement. Hull’s policy had been complete agreement on the end game without incremental stages along the way.

One of the elements in a May 1941 draft that was dropped after discussions with Morgenthal was a substantial line of credit. Morgenthal and other Treasury officials were cautious because a line of credit before stabilized behavior could be seen as subsidizing Japanese aggression. Also, in general Congress and public opinion were hostile to aiding Japan. And so the idea of loans or a line-of-credit was deliberately removed to preserve the possibility of future financial assistance after some evidence that Japanese behavior in the region was stabilized and some level of trade was restored with existing Japanese assets. The Treasury leadership wanted maximum leverage with minimal commitment. But it is also an indication of the thinking that was not constrained by Secretary Hull’s less-than-flexible process of diplomacy.

Another element of the May draft that was removed: modification of the 1924 Immigration Act: specifically, removal of the provision that excluded all Japanese from immigrating to the U.S and then setting quotas for Japanese as had been set with other nations. This was a major issue of honor for Japan, but by the summer of 1941 was a non-starter for the American public and Congress.

When the June draft was forwarded from the Treasury Department to the Far East Division with the State Department, who quickly endorsed it and adapted it into diplomatic language. It was then circulated through the War and Navy Departments for review and comment.

This was the first wave of reviews, strike outs, revisions, and rewording by various groups, departments, and leaders. Long story told short: in the end the intent of the original author had disappeared and the document morphed into another version of Cordell Hull’s “four principles.”  Perhaps its weakness was its radical departure from previous and current U.S. diplomatic engagements and the associated uncertainty of how it would be received. Not in content, but in motivation. Would it appear that the U.S. was trying to appease Japan because it feared combat in the Pacific? If the U.S. would offer this, would Japan assume that if pressed, there might be more that the U.S. was prepared to offer?

Would the original White Proposal have made a difference? Hard to say.


Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archive. | Source credit: Going to War with Japan: 1937-1941, Jonathan Utley

Jesus’ arrival at the well

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we quickly reviewed the religious and political history of the Samaritans in order to place this story in stark contrast to what came before: when Jesus spoke with Nicodemus (3:1-21), he spoke with a named male of the Jewish religious establishment, a “teacher of Israel.” When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman, he speaks with an unnamed female of an enemy people.

 5 So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well. It was about noon.

As O’Day [565] notes, the introduction provides the setting for the narrative. Verse 4 links the Samaritan text to vv.1-3; to get from Judea to Galilee (4:3), Jesus “had to go through Samaria.” Scholars are divided on whether the necessity of this Samaritan journey is strictly geographical or has theological overtones. The geographical necessity of the trip is supported by Josephus who notes that the most expedient route from Judea to Galilee during the first century was through Samaria; however, there is ample support to indicate crossing the Jordan so as to not enter Samaria was also routine. The word translated as “had to” (edei), however, usually is associated in the Fourth Gospel with God’s plan (e.g., 3:14, 30; 9:4). It seems best, therefore, to read the necessity of the journey through Samaria as both geographical and theological. Jesus’ itinerary may have been governed by geographical expediency, but his stay in Samaria was governed by the theological necessity of offering himself to those whom social convention deemed unacceptable.

Verses 5-6 provide a detailed description of the location of Jesus’ conversation with the woman. This description is important because of the OT imagery in which the geography is couched. The references to Jacob and his well introduce the patriarchal traditions that will figure prominently in the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (vv.11-14). The description of Jesus’ arrival at the well (v.6b) also establishes the conditions of his request for water in v.7. Jesus was tired from his journey, and he arrived at the well in the heat of the day (“about noon;” lit. “about the sixth hour”).

Eisegesis is the process of (mis)interpreting a text in such a way that it introduces one’s own ideas into and on top of the text. It is difficult to know what to make of the literal expression “the sixth hour.” In John’s narrative, when he points to a specific hour it is an indication that he wants the reader to pay close attention. What is not clear is why this encounter between Jesus and the woman happens midday. The women of the developing world typically see the timing of the meeting as a sign that the woman is an outcast in her own village. Water is usually drawn from the well at sunrise and sunset, outside the heat of the day. It is the place/time when women gather to meet, chat and have community. Someone who comes at noon to draw water is either avoiding the others, is unwelcomed to the community of women, has been formerly shunned, or just happens to need water at that time of day. Eisegesis is to insist on one of the first three choices. And that may well be the correct reading, but exegesis (following where the text leads) is always preferable.


Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

Who are the Samaritans?

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we refreshed our understanding of the encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus as a prelude to the encounter with the Samaritan Women.

In John 4:4-42, Jesus’ ministry enters a new stage. He leaves the confines of traditional Judaism and turns to those whom his Jewish contemporaries reckoned as outsiders and enemies: the Samaritans. The breach between Jews and Samaritans can be traced to 10 of the 12 tribes of Israel withdrawing from the throne of David in Jerusalem upon the death of King Solomon. They formed a competing confederation building a new capital city and a new temple (Mt. Gerizim), claiming that this was the true place of worship of God. To the people of the south (Judah) they were traitors and heretics. 

When the Assyrian Empire conquered the north some 200 years after the division (721 BCE; see 2 Kings 17), there was likely little sympathy in the south. But it was 500 years later that the rivalry intensified when the armies of Judah marched north and destroyed the Temple at Gerizim. It did little but to deepen and inflame the divisions as witnessed in John 4:9: “For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.”

When Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well, he meets someone who stands in marked contrast to all that has come before in this gospel. When Jesus spoke with Nicodemus (3:1-21), he spoke with a named male of the Jewish religious establishment, a “teacher of Israel.” When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman, he speaks with an unnamed female of an enemy people.

This long passage of the encounter at the well consists of two main blocks of conversation (vv.7-26, Jesus and the Samaritan woman, and vv.31-38, Jesus and his disciples) surrounded by their narrative frames. The structure of the text can be outlined as follows:

4:4-6 Introduction: Jesus’ arrival at the well
4:7-26 Conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman
4:27-30 Transition: Arrival of the disciples and departure of the woman
4:31-38 Conversation between Jesus and his disciples
4:39-42 Conclusion: Jesus and the Samaritan townspeople


Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

The Samaritan Woman at the Well

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent in lectionary cycle A. The gospel account is that of the Samaritan Woman at the well (John 4:4-52). It is a long passage and on several days there are two posts. In addition the Tuesday and Wednesday posts are fairly lengthy because St. John has just packed so much into the telling of the encounter. Today’s post is going to provide some context. I’d suggest that while the story stands on its own, it is best read with an eye toward the story that precedes it: Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus. It then stands as bookends framing the whole of Jesus’ ministry even as it is positioned at the beginning of the Johannine telling of the story of Jesus. So, before moving ahead let us review the encounter with Nicodemus so that we understand the deep contrasts between these two protagonists.

Nicodemus was a Pharisee (3:1) and a “teacher of Israel” (3:10) a moniker from which we can infer a number of things: he was Jew by birth, married, and the head of rabbinic school. He was not “the man on the street.” He was someone who was particularly familiar with Scripture and the traditions of Judaism. While within the official ranks of Judaism there was likely already great concern about Jesus because of the incident of the cleansing of the Temple (John 2). Was he another would-be-claimant to the title Messiah whose campaign would only bring the harsh response of the Romans? One suspects their judgment was negative, but it seems Nicodemus was curious – but cautious, and so he approaches Jesus under the cover of darkness (3:2). In John’s gospel, a weak, wavering or incomplete faith emerges from the night or darkness. Nicodemus has been attracted by Jesus’ signs, an attraction not to be despised, yet he remains at a distance from true faith. 

A dialogue ensues, animated by ambiguity and the potential for misunderstanding; a particular feature of Johannine stories. Jesus tells Nicodemus: ““Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born ańothen.” (3:3). I deliberately left the Greek ańothen in place because the word has dual meanings: “again/anew” or “from above.” In American Christianity which so often opts for “from above,” they lose the nuance of the exchange and the inherent choice being offered to Nicodemus.

The expression “born again” has a context and meaning in Judaism of Nicodemus’ day. One is born again when one converts to Judaism, comes of age, is married, crowned a king, ordained a rabbi or becomes the head of a rabbinic school. Nicodemus has done all these things (that pertain to him) and hence the question: “How can a person once grown old be born again?” There is no achievement or milestone left for him and hence the follow-on: “Surely he cannot reenter his mother’s womb and be born again, can he?” (3:4). Nicodemus apparently does not consider that he is being offered the choice to be born from above. He cannot understand who it is before him and what he offers: two choices, earthly (again) or heavenly (from above), Nicodemus seems to only understand the earthly choice; he does not understand that “without being born of water and Spirit” he will not have eternal life in the kingdom. Nicodemus is being asked to let go of all he knows/believes to be true in order to be “reborn” but from above. 

The expression “born again”  is a slogan, a rallying cry, and a test – “Have you been born again.” It is a short-hand to reduce the contemporary Christian experience to a sound bite. While the phrase has its merits, it is also taken out of the context of a much more nuanced dialogue. It flattens the word ańothen to only be connected to an individual’s private moment of conversion. As Gail O’Day notes, it privileges anthropology over Christology. It is the mistake that Nicodemus makes in not grasping the decisive Christological meaning of ańothen – the source of the change: the cross. And in doing so lose the emphasis of the newness of life possible for which there are no precedents. To approach the text of the Nicodemus story already assured that one knows the meaning/translation, is to repeat the experience of Nicodemus.

To approach the text of the Samaritan women already assured that one knows the meaning is to miss an encounter with Jesus that leads her to the newness of life. But then she is a Samaritan. She is a woman. What could she possibly understand that would elude Nicodemus, the teacher of Israel? The answer lies in the telling of the story.


Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

The Historiography of 1941

This is intentionally a post for a Saturday morning. It is longer than average and traces the “history” of how historians have treated the year 1941 as regards U.S.-Japanese relationships. As with most things, even when historians can agree on the events and sequence of events, the role of historian is more than a news reporter. A historian’s role is to research, analyze, interpret, and write about the past. They gather and critically evaluate primary sources (letters, records, artifacts, photos) and secondary sources (other historians’ work). They then determine the authenticity, significance, and context of historical information to form a coherent understanding of events. The historian then constructs and writes detailed accounts, reports, articles, and books that tell the story of the past. In essence, historians are detectives of time, piecing together human history to make sense of the what, when, where of things in order to understand the “why.”

When considering a single event in history, such as the oil embargo, one quickly discovers it is not a single event. The event has people who are animating history with choices and decisions. The event has precursor events (which might need their own “histories”). The event is part of a chain of larger events, later events, and a complex web of factors large and small. All of this leads to different “schools of thought” among historians.

In the case of the 1941 oil embargo by the United States against Japan, there are the following schools of thought – interpretive camps, if you will:

  • The Original Camp,
  • The Provocateur Camp,
  • The Coercion and Constraint Camp
  • The Turning Point Camp
  • The Contemporary Camp

These names are my own and (hopefully) offer a reasonably accurate 30,000 ft view of the positions. Over simplification and errors are mine, and so apologies in advance to the historians referenced if I have misunderstood or misinterpreted their work.

The Original Camp were the first wave of historians such as Herbert Feis and Samuel Eliot Morison who wrote in the later 1940s and early 1950s. As they were first to publish their work formed an initial orthodoxy regarding the oil embargo. Their conclusions were that Japan was solely responsible for the U.S. entry into the war. They judged U.S. policy to be defensive and reactive to Japan’s provocation with the ultimate treachery being the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor and the island of Oahu, Hawaii. 

The work did not address prior U.S. economic sanctions and actions, internal policy debates within the U.S. State department and regulatory agencies, external policy debates with Britain over support and prosecution of the already on-going war in Europe, North Africa, and in the steppes of Russia. 

The work did not have the available resources, and as such insufficient  attention was paid to the internal dynamics of Japanese governance which was divided among the militarism and the moderates – with Emperor Hirohito seemingly passively on the sidelines. The treatment of the internal Japanese governance is as though it were monolithic when it was anything but. As a result there was limited consideration of internal Japanese deliberations which caused Japanese diplomatic responses and actions to appear opaque, intentionally vague, and even deceptive. In parallel, these authors were not insightful or critical of U.S. diplomacy which seemed blunt and imperious to the Japanese. There is very little recognition of U.S. errors in policy or decisions.

Lastly, given the period in which they worked, they relied almost entirely on U.S. sources.

The Provocateur Camp argues that U.S. policy made war so likely as to make war unavoidable regardless of who fired the first shot. In historiography circles, they are known as the “Revisionists.” I am not a fan of that title in this particular case as “revisionists” often just refers to the next generation with access to additional source materials. In this case, “Provocateur” seems the better moniker. Historians that I would place in the category include Charles Beard and Charles Tansill who published in the period 1950-1956. While they had some new materials, like all historians of their age they lacked access to all the classified war information that was only made available to researchers in 1995. While different in content, these writers contend that President Roosevelt deliberately maneuvered Japan to the brink of war knowing sanctions and embargoes were provocative. 

While neither entertain the “Roosevelt knew Pearl Harbor would be attacked and did nothing” theory. They both hold Roosevelt and his cabinet as the provocateurs of the war. They conclude that Roosevelt knew the U.S. entry into the war with Germany was inevitable, and so used Japan as the “back door” to enter into the global conflict. Roosevelt’s concern was fascism’s (Germany. Italy, and Japan) deconstruction of liberal governmental and economic policies resulting in a new “dark ages” for the world order. The oil embargo was a virtual declaration of war as U.S. leadership understood Japan could not accept the embargo without collapsing as a power in the Asia-Pacific region where the U.S. had traditional trade and business interests. The weakness of this historical view is that it glosses over Japan’s “power” and, in effect, downplays the raw military aggression Japan had waged throughout the 1930s into the 1940s.

The Coercion and Constraint Camp are less conspiratorial but argue that U.S. actions left Japan with no acceptable alternatives. Writers such as William Williams and Gabriel Kolko might be considered part of this school of thought, writing in the period 1959-1968 – again researching in an age before the declassification of WW II records. A later work by Sidney Pash (2014) revisits some of the same archival information, but unlike Williams (an economic determinist), Pash emphasizes more traditional diplomatic concepts such as the balance of power and containment.

The principle argument is that the U.S. spoke of an open door policy of trade and commerce in the Asia Pacific region, but the real goal was a type of benign imperialism under the guise of open markets and free trade. It is argued that the U.S. insistence of principles such as respect for national boundaries, respecting the sovereignty of other nations, not interfering in other nations internal politics, and openness to trade and commerce failed to acknowledge the Japanese strategic realities of a lack of natural resources, burgeoning population, and a view of themselves as the rightful leader of the Asia-Pacific region. 

In general this camp does not excuse Japanese aggression, but sees the U.S. as implementing systematic coercion and constraints to control events in the region. One view is that the U.S. did not realize the effects of systematic coercion and constraints they were attempting to put into play – nor the Japanese reactions to them. Unlike the “Provacteur Camp” there is no conspiracy to start conflict. It is more of a clumsiness and bias in operating the available levers of power. But like their historiographical elders, they too gloss over the manner in which Japan projected power, paying little attention to the rise of militarism and nationalism that were the drivers behind their naked invasion of other countries, and just seem to ignore that no Asia-Pacific nation wanted their leadership. Some work focuses only on diplomatic encounters of the moment while paying scant attention to other internal elements. A good example is the treatment of the 1922 Washington Conferences and naval limitation treaty. The conclusion reached is that the U.S. and Britain (two-ocean navies) were trying to control Japan’s shipbuilding projects (one-ocean navy) without ever mentioning that other than the military, the rest of Japan’s governance welcomed the limitation because they wanted to avoid an arms race they couldn’t afford while in the midst of their own financial crises.

The Turning Point Camp largely wrote in the late 1980s. Some consider this as an extension of the Revisionists Camp. Writers include Jonathan Utley, Waldo Heinrichs, and Akira Iriye. These historians focus on July-August 1941 as the turning point of the pre-Pearl Harbor period after which war between Japan and the United States was a given. Their focus is largely upon diplomacy and the currents of power/views within Washington DC and Tokyo. This group of writers had the advantage of access to non-military documents, war time diaries, translated Japanese documents, memoirs of key actors, and correspondence in the arena of governance and diplomacy. These were resources not available to previous historians. 

A compilation of the central tenet of this camp might be captured in the problem of disinstantiated communication. In other words, “that’s not what I meant!” vs. “but that’s what I understood.” This was fueled by preconceptions, misconceptions, and presumptions of “national character.” And in some cases, the barrier of language and cultural norms. As a result, the actions and understandings were miscalculations rather than conspiracy. The “Hull Note” in late November 1941 is an example of such. Although it should be noted that Kido Butai, the Japanese fleet that attacked Peart Harbor, had already set sail, battle plans in hand, and under strict radio silence.

While acknowledging these shared problems, this camp finds fault with U.S. policymakers who:

  • underestimated Japanese willingness to fight, 
  • overestimated the impact of embargoes and trade sanction on Japanese military and economic collapse
  • insisted on principles Japan could not accept without abandoning its empire, making war likely, 
  • Did not realize that there was a “manifest destiny” operative in the politicized Shinto myth of the “eight corners of the world”
  • did not recognize that their (U.S.) actions were escalatory in effect, 
  • were unwilling to compromise, and
  • assumed Japan would eventually back down.

Instead, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and across the Southwest Asia region as a response to constraints applied by the U.S. These historians acknowledge that Japanese military aggression in the region over the decade was a war already begun. Their view is that the U.S. did not force Japan to attack Pearl Harbor, but it pursued policies attempting to control Japanese aggression that increased the probability that the U.S. would be drawn into armed conflict with Japan.

The Contemporary Camp is the current era of historians (e.g., Sadao Asada, Richard Frank) share a view with the “Original Camp” that holds Japan fully and wholly culpable for the Asia-Pacific War, but also recognize elements and nuance of the “Turning Point Camp.” What is different is the trove of new materials that have been made available, especially Japanese language sources, diaries, letters, previously unknown documents.  They are more attentive to the chaotic rise and fall of Japanese cabinets, the veto power of the military, the popular support for the Japanese military, and the increasing alignment with fascist ambitions in the region. 

These later historians are much more balanced in understanding the role of Nazi Germany in Roosevelt’s thinking. FDR understood that the U.S. was in no way prepared to enter war with Germany (which was the priority) much less war with Germany and Japan. What industrial capacity was available was geared to keep Britain “in the fight” as well as the Soviet Union (which Germany attacked in later June 1941).

While recognizing the impact of the “oil embargo”, these historians are more likely to call the timing of and the attack on Pearl Harbor the turning point in the broader was for these reasons:

  • On December 5tn, the Soviets began a massive counter-attack on German forces at Moscow and attacks across a broad front in other regions. The strength and impact of this would not be known to Hitler for several weeks.
  • Japan “declared war” on by the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941
  • Germany formally declared war on the United States on December 11 in accord with the Tripartite Pact
  • By Dec 16th, Hitler was aware of the seriousness of the Soviet’s advances.

If Pearl Harbor had been planned for January 1942, realizing the problems on the German eastern front, would Germany have declared war on the United States? An interesting counter-factural, but the point is the broader view held by these historians.


Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives.

A Reflection

Annemarie Reiner (of Adelaide, Australia) posted this reflection on the Transfiguration on her blog “Who Do You Say That I Am.”  It is a very nice reflection to consider in this Lenten Season.


When we look at our Gospel today we can understand why daily reflection is so important. These three disciples (and the rest of them) didn’t get who Jesus was until well after his death. They didn’t understand what had happened at the transfiguration. They didn’t understand what was happening as they witnessed Jesus’ life. They didn’t understand what was happening at the crucifixion. But they kept pondering their experiences over and over – if they didn’t we simply wouldn’t have the New Testament.

So what do we learn from this?

Every human life is filled with experiences from when we get up until we go to sleep and even in our sleep we experience our dreams. What do we do with these experiences?

Mostly we ignore them and then we forget them. Even the profound moments that come into our lives, we can shut the depth of their meaning out. We might have gone through a depression – do we take the time to ponder the meaning of this depression in my life or do I just think: thank God that is over and then fill our lives with all sorts of other distractions and then wonder why down the track I fall into another bout of depression?

I might have experienced walking with a loved one who has been sick and has died. Do I sit back and reflect upon the experience or is it too difficult to re enter this painful period, so we try and shut it out hoping it will go away.

I might have experienced a deep hurt. Do I ponder the experience considering my own reactions and responses to the hurt or do I totally throw blame on those who hurt me without any self reflection? So I become the victim in life and I go from one lot of blaming to the next without any examination of my own heart.

I might have deeply hurt someone myself. Do I take the time reflect upon my behaviour (even if it is down the track from the experience) so as to be confronted with what I have done. Or do I just keep running away from this self disclosure because it s too painful?

There are numerous life experiences that we all have. Many of these experiences are profoundly mysterious. Sadly many of them become buried and we lose the richness these experiences can offer us. Not only this but we now have multi million dollar industries offering all sorts of therapies etc to help people cope with the results of their non reflective lives.

Someone once said that a non reflective life is a life not worth living. It might be more accurate to say that a non reflective life is a life not lived – it is life rejected.

Jesus invites each of us to this holy mountain today. It might be shrouded in mystery – we may not have much of an idea who Jesus is yet – we may be confused by the experiences of life and feel lost – but Jesus says to us today to come with him. To trust him. To have faith in him. To keep thinking about our experiences but to do this with Jesus at our sides.

When we have the courage to come to the mountain with Jesus then we too may see something beyond our imagining. When we truly see Jesus transfigured (see Jesus as he truly is) then the life that Jesus offers us will begin.

A large part of the problem is that we really don’t see who Jesus is. Jesus can become our own creation – a feel safe, feel good guy that we call upon when it suits us, and we try and mould Jesus to be what we want him to be. If we truly believed in Jesus we too would not know what to say, we would be frightened, but we would hear God saying to us: Listen to him. And even in all our blindness and ignorance all we would truly want would be to Listen to Jesus – we would hunger for Jesus – not the Jesus of our own making, but the Jesus who stands before us as mystery. Can we accept such a mystery?

We, the Body of Christ must also be transformed just as Jesus was transformed – but this cannot happen until we come to this mountain in all humility. Then the horrors our world is currently experiencing may begin to fade and the light will truly shine in the darkness.

In the coming week let us pray for the desire and will to come to the mountain that Jesus invites us too so that we may encounter the true mystery before us and then ponder for a lifetime its meaning for ourselves and the whole of creation.


Image credit: Sunrise, Simon Berger, Pexels, CC