A personal god

Is it possible that Abraham's Perception of Yahweh/El Shaddai would have been similar to the typical Mesopotamian's perception of his personal deity? The way in which Abraham and his God interact would certainly suit the paradigm of relationship with a personal god in Mesopotamia. Yahweh provides for Abraham and protects him, while obedience and loyalty are given in return. One major difference, however, is that our clearest picture of the personal god in Mesopotamia comes from the many laments that are offered as individuals seek favors from deity or complain about his neglect of them. There is no hint of this in Abraham's approach to Yahweh. In the depiction in the text, Abraham maintains an elevated view of deity that is much more characteristic of the overall biblical view of deity than it is of the Mesopotamian perspective. On the whole, however, it is not impossible, and may even be likely, that Abraham's understanding of his relationship to Yahweh, in the beginning at least, was similar to the Mesopotamian idea of the personal god. In Mesopotamian language, Abraham would have been described as having ”acquired a god." That he was led to a new land and separated from his father's household would have effectively cut any ties with previous deities (located in city and family) and opened the way for Yahweh to be understood as the only deity to which Abraham had any obligation. By making a break with his land, his family, and his inheritance, Abraham was also breaking all of his religious ties. In his new land Abraham would have no territorial gods; as a new people he would bring no family gods; having left his country he would have no national or city gods; and it was Yahweh who filled this void, becoming "the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” ”the God of the Fathers.“ But it is only in Israel, Jacobsen observes, that the idea of the personal god made the transition from the personal realm to the national realm. Van der Toorn adds, "Family religion was the ground from which national religion eventually sprang."—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 113

The uniqueness of YHWH

In the polytheistic religions of the ancient world it was not considered obligatory for individuals to worship the state gods. It might be to their advantage and coincide with their self—interests to do so, but the state god would hardly be offended by their worship of their local or ancestral deities. This observation brings considerable clarity to the centuries—long struggle of the Israelites to understand that Yahweh's status as state God excluded the worship of local gods, nature gods, or ancestral gods. Their native mentality would have seen no conflict. They could willingly acknowledge Yahweh as the national God and as the supreme God. but such conclusions would not require sole worship of Yahweh. State religion was an entirely different issue than family religion. The uniqueness of Israel is that here we can see an attempt to merge those two horizons. Every indication is that they were consistently syncretistic throughout the monarchy pergiod, though the prophets had high hopes that the people would repent of their syncretism and adopt covenant faithfulness to Yahweh wholeheartedly.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 104

The why of it all

The basic premise of this belief [that the gods have needs] was that the gods had existed for long ages prior to the creation of humans and with no plan to create such beings, Nevertheless, they needed food, clothing, and housing and, since they were gods, were accustomed to certain amenities. Various myths build different scenarios, but eventually the gods tired of providing for their own needs. The solution was the creation of humans to provide food (sacrifice), housing (temples), and clothing for the gods and to engage in activities that would pamper the gods. This was the religious obligation in the ancient world. As stated in šima milka, a piece of wisdom literature from the second millennium BC, “Do not mock a god whom you have not provided with provisions.“ By taking care of the needs of the gods, people had a role in enabling the gods to continue to bring order to the cosmos.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 98

We're all control freaks

The gods’ needs were not cared for just so that the people would be graced with good harvests. The temple was the control center for order in the cosmos, and that order had to be maintained. The deity needed to be cared for so that his or her energies could be focused on the important work of holding the forces of chaos at bay. The rituals, therefore, served not simply as gifts to the deity or mechanical liturgical words and actions. The rituals provided a means by which humans could play a role in maintaining order in the cosmos.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 90

Divine presence

We may conclude that the image functioned in the cult as a mediator of the divine presence. It was the means by which humans gained access to the presence of deity. As such it represented the mystical unity of transcendence and immanence, a theophany transubstantiated. Jacobsen therefore sees the functioning image as an act of the deity’s favor: “The image represented a favor granted by the god .thinsp;.thinsp;.thinsp;a sign of a benign and friendly attitude on the part of the community in which it stood.” Berlejung provides a useful summary of our study: “A cultic statue was never solely a religious picture, but was always an image imbued with a god, and, as such, it possessed the character of both earthly reality and divine presence.” From deity to people, the image mediated presence and revelation. From people to deity, the image mediated worship.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., pages76–77

Faithfulness? What's that?!

Faithfulness is one of the most frequently affirmed attributes of Yahweh because of his covenant relationship with Israel. In contrast, it is difficult to find any such affirmation for the gods of the ancient Near East. Words that convey loyalty are never used of the gods in that way. The gods have no agreements or promises to be faithful to and no obligations or commitments to fulfill.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 70

But is it right?

Believe in educators carrying weapons in school? Read this and weep.

The videos, instruction, and repetition play a trick on my mind, though. I start to think in terms of students and attackers, those I would protect and those I would kill. The latter are strangers— unnamed, faceless adversaries like the targets. My daydreams are no longer of classroom visits, sporting events, and kids making out in the halls. They are all adventure stories, and I am always the hero. An attacker is never one of my students. I never have to shoot one of my students.

The training encourages this result. Everything about its vocabulary is designed to dehumanize our aim. The instructors’ military language—“soft targets” and “areas of operation” for schools, “threats” for shooters, “tactical equipment” for guns—rubs off. On the final day, a pep talk analogizes students with lambs. We are the sheepdogs, charged with protecting them from the wolves.

I am aware that this is changing my way of thinking. I enjoy how I feel. It is a potent energy, a righteous virtue that seems completely earned. The training reassures me of my decision-making ability.

The other recruits are undergoing the same shift. During downtime we discuss guns: which we plan to buy next, what ammo our districts will provide us, and how that ammo impacts a body. We have become gun nuts almost overnight.

But, when an actual threat happens, it isn't whom they expect:

I drive home in a devastated silence. I thought I knew Jason well, but I had never imagined him perpetrating a threat, or owning weapons. It was like something from TV, where newscasters narrate the steps leading up to a school shooting, how everyone had missed the signs. I imagine the shoot-out it could have been.

Riding through the dense countryside, I finally face the question that I had avoided from the beginning: was this right?

My decision to be armed in school had been made in the aftermath of yet another high-profile school shooting, and I had thought, “This is how I can keep my kids safe.” The training had done its work on me, too, lifting me out of my habit of cynically questioning everything. I felt reassured that of course, this is righteous. But now it was no longer a theoretical question of protecting kids at any cost. The faceless target at the shooting range, so absurd in its proportions, had a face: Jason, whom I wanted so badly to help. (emphasis original)

<idle musing>
Sorry folks, but violence is never a righteous option. You can rationalize it all you want, but like this person, at some point it will stare you in the face and you have to decide whether to be honest with yourself (and God) or not.
</idle musing>

Are the gods good?

It is very rare for the gods of the ancient Near East to be described as good, though the hope is commonly expressed that the god will do good to the worshiper—that is, act favorably or for their benefit. This is an expression of favor rather than a sense of intrinsic goodness. More than any other attribute, goodness, in the abstract sense, implies correspondence to an independent standard of goodness. The existence of such a standard in the ancient Near East is arguable. Insofar as it exists, it may be different in different cultures, just as in the ancient world it may be considered differently than it would be today.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 69

Are the gods just? Is God just?

We can now identify several ways in which one might consider whether a deity is just:

1. Deity is just (inherent quality).
2. Deity administers justice consistently (though actions are sometimes opaque).
3. Deity intends to administer justice but does so imperfectly.
4. Deity is corrupt, with only a secondary interest in administering justice.

In Mesopotamia the discussion hovers between options two and three. In the Hebrew Bible the discussion hovers between options one and two. Yahweh is at times declared to be just. Job calls Yahweh’s justice into question based on his experience (Job 40:8), but the book exonerates Deity in the end.

Another aspect of justice concerns acts of judgment. In Israel much of the prophetic literature is taken up with oracles of judgment, and both in the covenant curses and in the historical literature we see Yahweh as proactive in punishing his wayward people. In Mesopotamia it is more common for the judgment of the gods to be seen in their abandonment of subjects. Loss of the care and protection of the deity would expose the city, king, or individual to evil forces, whose activities would constitute punishment. Nevertheless, many texts speak of the gods imposing punishment on people (often in the form of illness or disease).—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 68

Incomprehensible?

Indeed, as much continuity as Christian theologians have developed between the religious ideas of preexilic Israel and those of Christianity, there is probably not as much common ground between them as there was between the religious ideas of Israel and the religious ideas of Babylon. When we think of Old Testament religious concepts such as ritual sacrifice, sanctuaries/sacred space, priests and their role, creation, the nature of sin, communication with deity, and many other areas, we realize that the Babylonians would have found Israelite practice much more comprehensible than we do.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 13

The flashy and powerful

Like the Israelites who showed a preference for leaders like Jephthah and the later Gideon who used excessive force to battle the external enemies, we demonstrate a preference for the flashy and powerful leadership qualities that our culture prizes, rather than the courageous, servant leadership of the early Gideon who exposed and dismantled the enemy within the gates. If there’s one thing we learn from Gideon it is that messing with people’s idols is an unpopular and potentially life-threatening business! Are our leaders inspiring and equipping us toward a more faithful, undivided witness to the power of the gospel, or are they inadvertently setting up idols in our midst that all of God’s people “whore after” (8:27, 33) or themselves sacrificing family and other God-given gifts to further their own ends (11:39).—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

Not an even exchange

Israel’s rejection of Yahweh’s rule is not fundamentally an exchange of one divine rule (the rule of Yahweh) for another divine rule (the rule of one Canaanite god or another); rather, their allegiance to the foreign deities (and thus disloyalty to Yahweh) exposes their fundamental drive to chart their own course, realize their own destiny, and set the standard for their own conduct apart from God. Idolatry and autonomy, thus, are intricately intertwined, two sides of the same coin.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

Violence!

Our time and culture are no less violent than those of ancient Israel. On the one hand, we live in a culture that celebrates and consumes violence in film, video games, and sport. On the other hand, we lament the violence that plagues our city streets, hides behind the closed doors of our homes, enters our schools and claims our children, feeds on racism and other forms of prejudice, wreaks havoc on the global political stage, and dominates our media coverage. Violence breads violence and creates a culture of fear and anxiety; the cycle seems unbreakable. As valuable and worthwhile as they are, anger management seminars, violence awareness, counseling, and diplomatic peace talks cannot eradicate the violence that plagues a society like ours in which everyone does what is right in their own eyes. And like Israel in the settlement period, any hope for change must begin with the people of God, radically committed to the divine king and unswervingly motivated to live out his kingdom principles.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

It's not just personal, it's structural

In this fallen world, allegiance to God and King Jesus does not guarantee life and flourishing this side of eternity, but disloyalty that breeds sin will only in the long run produce disharmony, fear, oppression, misery, death—all those things that are opposed to life and flourishing. Accordingly, Judge’s full-orbed instruction on sin also implies something about the doctrine of salvation. Along with the thrust of the biblical story, Judges communicates (albeit as a subtext) a longing for deliverance that extends as wide and as deep as the pervasive spread of sin. Judges provides a stark and sobering picture of sin and its consequences, and thus stands as a vital source for a multidimensional doctrine of sin, but also implies a cosmic redemption that heals the ills of human immorality, institutional corruption, economic oppression, and societal breakdown—thus, it stands as a vital source for a multidimensional doctrine of salvation.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

The root of sin

At its root, then, sin is a disposition in the hearts of the people of God, and not specific acts that transgress a moral code. That is not to say that actions and behavior are irrelevant. In fact, this disposition of disloyalty to Yahweh manifests itself in actions that transgress Yahweh’s will.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming) (emphasis original)

The real cancer

The stranglehold of sin not only creates a context of widespread immorality, but also produces an environment of uncertainty, division, oppression (economic and other), fear, suspicion, false hospitality, cowardice, and familial and social brokenness. Sin is like a cancer that literally sucks the life out of its host. Not content to be confined or limited, sin, once taken root, spreads in such a way that it saps the energy and life that feeds cells and organs. The result is that the cancer (sin) thrives and grows while the host environment of the cancer deteriorates and eventually dies.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

Right in the eyes of whom?

In the context of the sins of Micah and the Danites, of the atrocity of Gibeah and the resulting disasters (chs. 17–21), the refrain “doing evil in the eyes of Yahweh” gives way to people “doing right in their own eyes.” The moral standard has shifted from divine to human, and the resulting moral relativism leads to chaos. As I have argued throughout this commentary, the people (individually and collectively) doing what seems good in their own eyes is bound up with their rejection of Yahweh as king (“There was no king in Israel”), so again these narratives underscore the connection between divine allegiance and sin.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

He exists—but what does that mean?

It is worth clarifying that we never encounter Israelites (individually or collectively) denying his [Yahweh] existence or alternatively acknowledging his existence but then consciously rejecting his divine authority. Instead, we have plenty of examples of a syncretistic blending of Israelite and Canaanite “religion.” This religious syncretism is quite evident at a number of places, not least in the example of Gideon’s patriarchal household and in Gideon himself. Gideon’s father maintained a shrine to Baal and Ashtoreth (6:25–32), and yet his father must have passed down something of the tradition and history of Israel because Gideon recalls some of them (6:13). Gideon himself rightly acknowledges the rule of Yahweh but then immediately fashions an idol and sets up a shrine that “all Israel whored after” and that “became a snare to Gideon and to his family.” When it comes to dividing divine loyalties, like father, like son. Indeed, according to the pervasive polytheistic cognitive environment of the ancient Near East, paying homage to Yahweh and also serving the local deities would be the most natural thing for the Israelites to do. And yet, Yahweh was unique among the gods of the nations and by virtue of his special relationship with them and his redemptive and preserving deeds on their behalf, Israel was called to be a unique people. Accordingly, there was to be no division of loyalties—service to foreign gods is implicitly a rejection of Yahweh.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

The gift of the Spirit

Gideon and Jephthah demonstrate that the endowment of Yahweh’s Spirit to achieve salvation can produce an enduring confidence that is self-serving and opposed to God’s will.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

Actions versus essence

When we read the hymnic and petitionary literature from the ancient Near East, we discover that the gods are praised for their majesty, glory, beauty, and splendor on the one hand, and for their power, authority, and deeds on the other. These are qualities manifested in exterior ways rather than interior attributes. It is no surprise then that we find little evidence in the ancient Near Eastern literature that the ancients consider their gods to be just, wise, good, faithful, gracious, and so on, though they often express hope that the gods will act in those ways.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 66

All gone astray, everyone…

Besides the bizarre nature of the events of chapters 19–21, another curiosity of these narratives is worth noting. With one notable exception, not a single individual in this long complex of stories is named. This anonymity serves a number of purposes, but most importantly it universalizes the experience and actions of the characters: “What better way to portray that every Levite, every father-in-law, every host, every single man with that society committed such barbaric atrocities ‘from Dan to Beersheba’ (20:1) than by allowing every perpetrator in the narrative to exist nameless?” [Hudson, “Living in a Land of Epithets,” 59] The one man doing right in his own eyes represents everyman doing right in his own eyes. [footnote: My use of “man” here is deliberate, as the events in chs. 19–21 portray men perpetrated death and destruction, specifically at the expense of women.]—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

And the conclusion of the matter is that

The series of Spirit-endowed judges concludes with Jephthah and Samson whose lives and behavior mirror the collapse of Israel. Despite their charismatic endowments, these judges are unable to control the wandering passions of Israel; in fact, they cannot even control themselves. At the end of Judges we are confronted with human frailty, and we are forced to cry out only to God for salvation, because, in the words of James Crenshaw, “he alone can deliver Israel once and for all time, for he does not sleep on Delilah’s knee” [Crenshaw, Samson, 135].—Lee Roy Martin, “Power to Save!? The Role of the Spirit of the Lord in the Book of Judges,” JPT 16 (2008): 50

Irony abounds

The irony here is astounding: Israel’s would-be deliverer is bound by the people he is meant to deliver, and they deliver him over to the oppressors from whom he is meant to deliver them. The hand motif emerges in 15:13, and it reinforces the sense of irony. Elsewhere in the book either Yahweh gives the Israelites into the hand of foreign enemies or gives foreign enemies into the hand of Israelite armies or often the judge/deliverer. Here the men of Judah express twice that they intend to bind Samson and give him “into the hands of the Philistines” (vv. 12a and 13a). Here in the final cycle is the first and only time in the book that Israelites deliver a fellow Israelite (let alone their chosen deliverer) into the hands of their enemies. Moreover, the Judahites’ assertion that the Philistines are ruling Israel should not come as a shock at this point, as the narrator expressed this in 14:4 using almost the exact phrasing as in 15:11. However, that Judah is so willing to accept this reality and will go so far as to deliver Samson to the Philistines to maintain Philistine rule is unthinkable and marks an all-time low in the book of Judges.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

About those fleeces that you put out…

The need for two signs of the fleece may point to Gideon’s ineptitude. According to the natural order of things, the wool fleece would have absorbed the moisture from the dew so that when the morning came the sun would have dried the ground, but the fleece would have naturally remained damp. No doubt realizing his blunder, Gideon requests a second sign that would require a miracle. Things are not boding well for Israel’s new leader. All of these subtleties of the text and the broader context should probably give contemporary readers pause before drawing in the fleecing test as a paradigm for discovering God’s will today.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

The inner life of the gods

Assuming that the perceptions of self as applied to the gods, as in every other area, mimicked humanity, we may then propose the following formula: If ontology were defined in relation to ones function and actions, and if “self” were defined as largely exterior, then personal attributes (whetber divine or human) could only be discerned at the level of one’s actions—that is, they would not necessarily be seen as abstractions.

If the formula holds, the description of a god as good or wise would signify only that the deity was acting in what were perceived to be good or wise ways rather than implying that the inherent essence or nature of the deity was to be good or wise. The affirmation or conviction that a deity consistently acted in good or wise ways, or the observation that goodness or wisdom persisted in all of the deity’s behavior, could suggest that such an abstraction might have been accurate but falls short of suggesting that the ancients would have been inclined to draw conclusions in the abstract realm.

If this assessment is accurate, we should ask whether there is any concept in the ancient world of an inherent essence of the deity—or can we only say that deity is as deity does? A thorough search of the literature suggests that the latter is the case. There is little interest expressed in penetrating the inner psyche of essential nature of any deity.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., pages 65–66

Be careful what you sing

I cannot help but agree with Gregory Wong that the role of Yahweh [in the Song of Deborah in Judges 5], although present, is indeed eclipsed by the role of the human agents. Is this the kind of identity-forming song that would arouse unswerving commitment to Yahweh and his covenant, or would it simply reinforce the ambivalence of God’s people to be the people he was calling them to be? If the rest of the book [of Judges] is any indication, we might be inclined to conclude that this song was of the latter kind. There may be enduring instruction here for contemporary people of faith about the kinds of worship songs we sing—are they theocentric songs that inspire commitment to God and a more faithful witness to him or are they anthropocentric songs that celebrate human achievement and leave us comfortable with the status quo?—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

Transcendent? Not really…

Cosmically bound. The cosmic gods were bound to particular cosmic phenomena and therefore had little jurisdiction over other cosmic phenomena. Gods who were not cosmic gods would have no jurisdiction in the cosmic realm. Beyond this level of categorization, the gods were also bound within the cosmos. They did not transcend the cosmos but operated only within it. We could perhaps think in terms of a company’s board of directors and CEO. They have a great deal of power within the company (= cosmos), but they have to operate within the national and global economic situation. They run the company, but they are within the economy and subject to its status.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 63

The gods

Divine Features

Anthropomorphic. The important aspect of anthropomorphism is not the physical shape but the presumed nature, character, and personality of a god. Many of the features in the rest of the list could easily be viewed as further defining what this entails. In short, in the literary portraits of the gods they were viewed as having all of the same qualities, good and bad, as humans but without as many limitations. They had more power and a longer span of existence than people. They were not better than people; they were simply stronger than people—all shared basic human traits.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 63

Don't sell people short

"The way you honour a human being is to ask of him an effort. In the hopeless popularization and down-marketing of our crafts we don’t honour the student. We condescend to him and that is a hideous contempt. You honour him by what you ask and demand."—Grammars of Creation, by George Steiner, available here

Power is seductive

Calypso, the nymph who keeps Odysseus locked up on her island for seven years, is making a comeback. As are some of the women in the Iliad and Odyssey. But, some feminists are raising a word of warning, see, most recently, this article Is Homer’s Calypso a Feminist Icon or a Rapist? The subtitle says is it all: "‘Odyssey’ translator Emily Wilson called her a ‘passionate model of female power,’ but not every powerful woman deserves praise." Here's the final paragraphs of this excellent article, which you really should take the time to read (otherwise you won't understand the reference to Odysseus):

o quote Mary Beard, “You cannot easily fit women into a structure that is already coded as male; you have to change the structure. That means thinking about power differently.” Calypso offers not a hopeful possibility for women but a warning to any woman who climbs the tiers of power without questioning or transforming the asymmetrical system that keeps women as a whole in check. If the structure is not changed, in can waltz Hermes, armed with Zeus’s authoritative command, to overpower you in turn. As long as it is built upon the oppression of others, the same hierarchy that at one moment works for you can now work against you. Unlike Odysseus, we can choose to really see ourselves in the disempowered and by doing so change who we are for the better. That is the challenge for anyone reading the Odyssey today.

While I wholeheartedly embrace the refashioning of myth’s female monsters as our own, I do not want to find feminist empowerment where it should not be, a new female face superimposed upon the same old tale. As much as I love these old Greek stories and always will, we all desperately deserve a new one.

<idle musing>
I would say that the new tale she is longing for is the Kingdom of God as manifested in Jesus. He had all the power in the universe at his fingertips, and he chose to be the servant of all. That's a real role model that we would do well to emulate—male or female. But especially the males!
</idle musing>

Sacred? Secular? Huh?

There is no such word as “religion” 1n the languages of the ancient Near East. Likewise, there is no dichotomy between sacred and secular, or even between natural and supernatural. The only suitable dichotomy is between spiritual and physical, though even that would be a less meaningful distinction to the people of the ancient Near East than it is to us. In the end, there is a distinction between the heavenly realm and the earthly one, but events in the two were often intertwined or parallel. It would be difficult to discuss with ancients the concept of divine intervention because in their worldview deity was too integrated into the cosmos to intervene in it. For the most part, deity is on the inside, not the outside. The world was suffused with the divine. All experience was religious experience; all law was spiritual in nature; all duties were duties to the gods; all events had deity as their cause. Life was religion and religion could not be compartmentalized within life.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 47

What we expect vs. what we see

The kind of society that we expect Israel to develop would, for example, care for the most vulnerable (widows, orphans, and foreigners), prize justice and mercy, cultivate and care for the land in sustainable ways, encourage equitable and responsible economic practice, promote hard work and revitalizing rest, and so on—all of these as tangible manifestations of Yahweh’s kingdom and his royal character. The result and ultimate aim of such a society would be blessing: the blessing of God’s people, the blessing of the land, and even the blessing of the foreign nations.

The reality on the ground, or more appropriately in the promised land, is something altogether different.—David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

<idle musing>
And that is also true of those who claim to be Christians. The biggest difference being that Christians have the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit to make it happen. We are therefore "without excuse" for not making it happen : (
</idle musing>

Why?

When we consider similarities and differences between the ancient cultural river and our own, we must be alert to the dangers of maintaining an elevated View of our own superiority or sophistication as a contrast to the naïveté or primitiveness of others. Identification of differences should not imply ancient inferiority. Our rationality may not be their rationality, but that does not mean that they were irrational. Their ways of thinking should not be thought of as primitive or prehistorical. We seek to understand their texts and culture, not to make value judgments on them.—Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd ed., page 7

<idle musing>
We're starting a new book today, John Walton's Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2nd edition. The first edition was very good, but this second edition is even better. If you an interest in the ANE backgrounds to the OT, then this is the book to get!

I hope you enjoy the extracts over the next couple of weeks. Oh, and special thanks to Jeremy Wells at Baker for giving me a copy!
</idle musing>

It's cold!

From today, at 8:00 AM CST:

And the forecast:

That's just crazy! 80ºF difference in less than a week!

Sidetracked

Basil’s primary interest is not in the events behind the text, and his understanding of the creation of humanity shows this. I have suggested that Basil is asking his listeners to be like Moses. This is synonymous with the restoration of humanity returning to paradise, which means a life “unenslaved to the passions of the flesh, free, intimate with God.”

Returning to paradise is the restoration and goal of the human life, and this is what the creation story ultimately shows. Consoling ourselves with material things keeps us from paradise. This is why the story of creation is “an education in human life” and why the story of creation should be read with an eye toward that end. The history behind the text does not concern Basil, but the theologia behind it does.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 324

<idle musing>
That's the final post from this book. If you've been following the posts, you'll have noticed that it is more how to read the church fathers in general than it is about Genesis 1. And it once again reinforces the idea that our questions are different from their questions. We are focused (as a culture) on the material and physical; they were more concerned with the spiritual, nonphysical side of things. And they knew those nonphysical things were just as real, if not more real, than the physical. I suspect we would do well to rediscover that truth! But that's just an
</idle musing>

Zombie nation?

Three generations from those foundational, identity-forming events of the Exodus from Egypt and the Sinai covenant, God’s people are in crisis. They have arrived in the promised land and are emerging as a nation, but the seeds of idolatry and injustice are in full bloom, strangling the image-bearing quality of the covenant people. The response to failure does not result in rooting out idolatry and injustice—in fact the people wrongly diagnose the problem (i.e., unstable political governance) and consequently propose the wrong solution (i.e., strong, perpetual leadership). We witness a seemingly unending cycle, in which the people of God are not dead, but they are by no means thriving and flourishing. Israel is a zombie nation!

In this way, Judges stands as a prophetic clarion call for the people of God today. To what extent have the seeds of idolatry taken root and choked out our call to bear the image of Christ in the context of the twenty-first century? Is our commitment to the idols of our day compromising our calling to be faithful witnesses to Jesus and his countercultural kingdom for the sake of the flourishing of all people? Are we looking for solutions in all the wrong places, retreating into pietistic isolationism, or putting our trust in the wrong things (e.g., authoritarian government)? It is possible that the church has become a community of zombies?—from the introduction of David J. H. Beldman, Judges, Two Horizons Old Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming)

We're missing the point!

It is significant that the statement is made here, as it is in Homily 9, not in the context of explaining the creation of humanity proper but rather in the context of the Godhead: “It says, ‘Let us make,’ that you may recognize Father and Son and Holy Spirit.” In fact, it draws the hearers away from fixating on the “how” of creation and toward focusing on who is creating—the historia points to God. Basil sees it as a call to worship the Creator who creates as Trinity. This is a vital connection for Basil because “the prelude to our creation is true theology [theologia].”

The use of theologia here and in Homily 9 should not be understood as it is commonly used today. That is, today theology is a general term meant to indicate study about God. Basil does have this in mind, but there is more at work here than just a simple description like “the study of God.” He is using it in the context of a technical distinction from something called oikonomia. Theologia, as it was understood by fourth-century Christian writers like Basil, was used in a restrictive sense and concerned the divine nature (who God is). In Basil, it is a “mode of insight into the nature of God,” which is connected to seeing beyond material reality or the “material—sounding phraseology” of some passages in Scripture.”—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages317–18

Imago dei and St. Basil

Twice within the same paragraph in Homily 9 Basil uses a form of the word theologia. Noteworthy here is that, even though the context is one in which Basil has promised to speak of the origin of humanity, he focuses on the Father and the Son. Further, it is not on the works or actions of creating humanity but rather on the identity of the Father and Son. Thus, he asks his listeners to consider what “in our image" means. Since it is in reference to the divine, it cannot mean a bodily shape but a special reference to the Godhead. Citing various New Testament passages that refer to Christ as the image of the Father, he emphasizes that intimate connection.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 316

About that historical-critical method and the church fathers…

One would be very hard pressed to find in the earliest interpreters of sacred Scripture an approach that is intent only on finding direct one-to-one correspondence with strictly historical occurrences. Instead, one finds Scripture interpreted in a manner that emphasizes a call to a deeper spiritual life wherein the salvation of humankind and the ultimate goal of seeing God (contemplation) are overarching.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 303

Augustine on Answers in Genesis

In Homily 260c Augustine compares the promises of Isaiah 57:19, “peace upon peace,” with the sabbath day of rest that is contained "in this temporal round of days.” God rested on the seventh day in order to indicate the eternal rest of his saints. This is foretold in Job 5:19, “He will deliver you from six troubles; in seven no harm shall touch you." The reason Genesis does not indicate an evening on the seventh day is because it moves into the eighth of eternity. But the eighth day is not the only thing that should be an indicator of eternity for Augustine. He chides “lovers of this world” who do not consider the “symbolic meaning of the days.” Failure to do so shows that their focus "is not the rest of a spiritual sabbath, from which their thoughts could also be directed to the eternity of the eighth." Rather, they are "given over … to the round of temporal thoughts, unable to entertain any idea of the eternal."—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 296–97

<idle musing>
Quite an indictment. I suspect Augustine would have these same words for those who are fixated on a scientific interpretation of the Genesis 1–2. Something to think about, at least, isn't it?

Just an
</idle musing>

Morning and evening as Augustine sees them

In the days we experience, light declines as we get closer to sunset and we call that evening. Also, light returns as we get closer to sunrise, and we call that morning. But since we have a “surer light,” we also have a “surer day” and, therefore, “both a truer evening and a truer morning.” It thus makes perfect sense to Augustine that a spiritual evening occurs when there is a turning away from contemplating the Creator, and a spiritual morning when there is a move from knowledge of the Creator to praise of him. For Augustine, this is actually a literal interpretation, not allegorical. He recognizes that some may not be satisfied with “the line which I have been able in my sma11 measure explore or trace.” He encourages those who disagree to find another explanation, but it must be “as a strict and proper account of the way the foundations of this creation were made." In other words, it must also be a literal interpretation.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 285–86 (emphasis original)

Augustine had more sense that we do…

There is, he [Augustine] states, just one day, and it should not be understood in the same way we understand days that are measured and counted by the sun’s circuit. The day that was originally repeated three times before the creation of the sun and moon on the fourth repetition is not the same kind of day we experience. Thus, the night and day that God divided in Genesis 1:4 “are to be taken in quite a different sense from this night and day, between which he said that the lamps he created were to divide, when he said, And let them divide between day and night (Gen 1:14). The fourth day was when God fashioned the kind of day we know. But the day that was originally created had already gone through three repetitions before the lights were created on the fourth repetition.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 285 (italics in the original translation)

<idle musing>
And don't try to tell me he was influenced by Darwin and therefore compromised! He lived 1400 years before Darwin was around. And by the way, this was from his "literal" commentary.
</idle musing>

Does anybody who knows Greek proofread the covers?

I was checking a bibliographic reference yesterday and ran across this:

The accent in σὖν is impossible, and, besides, the word σύν makes no sense in the context. It should be οὖν. The worst of it is that it has ended up in OCLC, the database that drives interlibrary loan, as sun instead of oun—and that's how it ended up that way in the bibliography I was checking.

Children of the day

The knowledge of the angels being connected to evening and morning simply repeats itself in the days of creation. Morning indicates knowledge of their own spiritual “higher” order, albeit not what God is, while evening indicates a “lesser degree of knowledge”—that is, a knowledge of the lower order of creation. For Augustine, knowledge of a thing in the Word of God is “day,” while knowledge of its own specific nature is “evening.”—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 283

Even Augustine!

On the seventh day God rests from all his works and sanctifies that day. Augustine explains that just as the first six days are not to be understood in their literal sense, neither is the idea of God resting: “We are not to understand this in a childish way, as if God labored at his work.” Rather, God spoke and the heavens and earth were created (Ps 33:9; 148:5). In keeping with Augustine’s belief that this word was intelligible and eternal rather than audible, God’s rest signifies those who rest in God.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 275

St. Basil on the prowl

Basil points out various scientific theories about the shape of the earth and how each one overthrows the previous. He labels the purveyors of these theories as employing “foolish wisdom.” But his reason for this accusation is not because Moses' account trumps those scientific explanations. In fact, he concedes that Moses does not discuss them in Genesis because they are “useless for us, things in no Way pertaining to us.” [Basil, Hexaemeron 91] Scripture simply does not speak about these things in a scientific manner—this is not the architecture of Scripture. Basil claims value for “our version of creation” because they are the “words of the Spirit” that give us not scientific theories but “things . . . written for the edification and guidance of our souls.” He is critical of those who go beyond what Moses himself has written and give it a dignity on that basis. Scripture needs to be “understood as it has been written” because adding to it with translational allegory or scientific theories goes beyond its scope and intent.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 198–99

Fourth–fifth century hermeneutics

“Their [the 4th–5th century fathers] understanding of biblical exegesis,” he explains, “remained that of the more ancient period, a more discontinuous, confessional, and event—centered typology on the Christ-event.”[McGuckin, "Patterns of Biblical Exegesis," 38] The determinative pattern for the Church’s reading of Scripture is found in Jesus himself, and the Christocentric principle that governs patristic exegesis for Basil and other Fathers is found, par excellence, in the narrative of the journey to Emmaus.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 195

Parachute drop!

Part of the point I am trying to make is that we cannot simply parachute into the context of the Fathers and disregard it by plucking out quotations that appear to support our conclusions. Great care is required to understand world into which we enter, and this entails addressing some foundational issues. When modern assumptions about biblical interpretation are projected onto the Fathers, we run the risk of making them champions of some idea or concept that they simply were not. To assume that the Fathers read “literally” in the same way we mean “literal” is a misrepresentation of their context.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 158

<idle musing>
How many of us are guilty of using the &rqquo;parachute drop“ version of hermeneutics? And not just with respect to the church fathers, either! The whole concept of proof-texting is based on a parachute drop hermeneutics!
</idle musing>

What then shall we say?

It is apparent that the traditional distinction between Antioch and Alexandria along the lines of literal/historical versus allegorical reading cannot be applied here, at least in the way it has been traditionally understood. Origen and Eustathius actually had some important things in common in their understandings of biblical interpretation. Both are convinced of Scripture’s inspiration by the Holy Spirit. They were also both convinced of Scripture’s contemporary relevance to the Christian. The difference between them lay in Eustathius’s challenge to Origen’s application of Scripture. From our perspective, both interpretations were anachronistic in the sense that they paid little attention to the author’s intended meaning. Since Scripture was inspired by the Holy Spirit, he was seen as the true author, and this broke down the historical anchoring and distancing common in our modern approaches.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 153

Is this a legitimate reading?

Recall here John MacArthur’s condemnation of his very first sermon, based on the text “And the angel rolled the stone away,” in which he preached about the stone of doubt, the stone of fear, and the stone of anger.“ MacArthur condemned the sermon because he believes that in doing this he had betrayed the historical referent—“That is not what that verse is talking about; it’s talking about a real stone.” The emphasis on the “rea1 stone” has kept MacArthur anchored in the past, the horizontal plane, and thus maintains the distance and gaps that he emphasizes throughout his entire book. But a vertical reading seeks to eradicate those gaps by inviting the interpreter to be a participant. I dare say that the Alexandrians would have actually commended MacArthur’s reading of the text in his first sermon. Surely this example is not making the Bible into a fairy-tale book from which we get “all kinds of crazy interpretations."—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 141–42

<idle musing>
What do you think? Is this a legitimate reading of the text? My seminary training tells me that it isn't. But, 1600 years of church tradition begs to differ with me. Have we lost something by throwing away more figurative readings of the text? Can we get more from a text by allowing what he calls the "vertical reading" back in?

I'm in the process of revisiting my hermeneutical assumptions, and I'm leaning toward allowing the vertical back in. I've always said that the Holy Spirit can take a text and make it real to a person in a way that isn't necessarily the "original author's intention." For that matter, the entire New Testament and early Christian literature is an exercise in that! As I recently heard Richard Hays say, "The New Testament writers would have flunked out of a seminary hermeneutics class!" Indeed, his books are an exercise in exploring the vertical reading of scripture, as is the Eisenbrauns series JTI Supplements, which I generally really like.
</idle musing>

Hidden in plain sight

Both [Antiochene and Alexandrian] expected a deeper sense, and neither was concerned with the reference to the events behind the text or the human author’s intended meaning. The Antiochene (ikonic) approach expects a mirroring or imaging of the deeper meaning in the text as a whole, while the Alexandrian (symbolic) approach was seen by the Antiochenes as destroying the story, or coherence, of the text because it involved using words as symbols or tokens. “What is different is the [Antiochene] assumption that the narrative provides a kind of ‘mirror’ which images the true understanding, rather than the words of the text providing a code to be cracked.” [Young, Biblical Exegesis, 123] The issue is much deeper than the simple conclusion that the Antiochene insistence on typology was the result of its historical anchoring in events, while Alexandrians preferred allegory because of their disdain for history.“ The fact is that all early Christian reading of Scripture is, in some sense, figural.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 139-40

Anachronisms abound

Antiochene exegesis is anchored in rhetoric, and this makes any attempt to characterize it as the precursor to the modern critical approach problematic. To speak of any sort of grammatical-historical exegesis in antiquity is actually anachronistic, and equating the historia employed by Antiochenes with our modern understanding of history is equally so.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 137

Bedazzled by God

A very good post over at Catalyst Resources on being bedazzled by God (with a part 2 forthcoming). Good advice for all, not just seminary students. Here's the opening two paragraphs:

My second favorite line from Les Miserables is something Hugo writes about the bishop in the first fifty pages: “He did not study God; he was dazzled by him.” Great advice for all seminarians, theologians, and human beings.

In my experience, there are days it does not feel like this. There are days when it feels like you can’t see any higher than the stack of books piled up on your desk, all due tomorrow, along with that exegesis paper. There are days when it feels like Greek verb structures obscure your view. There may even be days when it feels like the Son is just too bright and you’ve been blinded rather than dazzled. Let me encourage you on those days to look through the page, over the shoulder of the author who is doing his best to point out the glory he sees. Let me encourage you on those days to blink and squint at the verbs until they form a window for you. Let me encourage you on those days to borrow some sunglasses from Gregory of Nyssa and keep on with it. Remember that God is dazzling.

<idle musing>
Great advice! There were definitely days in graduate school where just getting through the day seemed a struggle—let alone figuring out how it related to anything : ) But it was definitely worth the effort!
</idle musing>

What's really important?

Distinguishing between what the text meant (authors original meaning) and what the text means (application) was not a concern. Interest was more in the effect the text produced, which is why we cannot draw a straight line from this approach to grammatical-historical or even historical-critical methods of interpretation. Since the intent of criticism was to effect a response, ancient exegetes expected literature to be morally uplifting. This entailed the exercise of moral judgment (krisis), which included literary, or rhetorical, evaluation. Questions of authenticity, dating, and the like were raised here, but it was much less critical in our sense, and the moral search for virtue was predominant.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 133

Not for the reasons you thought

It is often thought that symbolic allegory, as practiced by philosophers, was the universal way of reading literature in the educational system of the ancient world. But this was not the approach taken by the grammar and rhetorical schools, which had more influence. The rhetorical approach was intent on deriving ethical models, useful instruction, and moral principles from the study of literature. The reaction to Alexandrian symbolic allegory by the Antiochenes was informed by this rhetorical approach rather than a concern for what we would call a GH [grammatical-historical] approach. The Antiochene exegetes had a rhetorical education and certainly would have been influenced by the ideals of that approach to reading literature.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 128–29

The gap is huge

One problem With attributing the tension in the early church to a difference between a literal/historical and an allegorical approach to Scripture is that it assumes the literalism of the Antiochenes is the same as modem historicism. But as Frances Young states, “We can see how this historical emphasis was recognizably culturally specific to the modem world.” Antiochenes, Young explains, could not have even imagined

explicitly locating revelation not in the text of scripture but in the historicity of events behind the text, events to which we only have access by reconstructing them from texts, treating them as documents providing historical data. This is anachronistic, and obscures the proper background of the Antiochene’s protest [against allegory].

The proper background for understanding the tension between Alexandria and Antioch is the Greek education system, which was based on the study of literature and practical exercises in speech making. Christianity was inevitably affected by this educational system because of its significant influence on the society and culture into which the early Church was born.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 127

<idle musing>
Yes, the gap is huge, but it isn't between Alexandria and Antioch. It's between both of them and our obsession with historicity. Both schools of thought would flunk out of a basic hermeneutics class in our seminaries!
</idle musing>

About those easy dichotomies

For many years the prevailing conclusion was that Antiochenes rejected the Alexandrian approach to biblical interpretation because of their diametrically opposed view of allegory and concomitant emphasis on the literal/historical aspect that was believed to be reflected in typology, Allegory was thought to be poor interpretation because of its callous treatment of history, while typology was thought to be good interpretation because it takes history seriously. In the past half century or so, there has been a reassessment of the traditional antithesis between allegory and typology and its foundation in historical connection. The reassessment has concluded that Alexandria and Antioch represent complementary rather than contradictory or competitive viewpoints.

Reflecting this reassessment, Theodore Stylianopoulos bemoans any sharp distinction between the Alexandrian and Antiochene exegetical traditions. Rather than seeing these approaches as mutually exclusive, he avers that they are both “fundamentally metaphorical and symbolic.” The desire of both approaches in reading Scripture was spiritual edification. By the same token, neither had any desire to abandon the literal sense (as they understood it).

Similarly, Karlfried Froehlich explains that while there is little doubt the Antiochenes did have issues with the excesses of Alexandrian spir- itualism, he also warns that it is problematic to make a sharp dis- tinction between Alexandrian and Antiochene exegesis. To claim that only the Alexandrian fathers allegorized while the Antiochene fathers adhered only to the literal meaning of the text is incorrect.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 125–26

I guess Paul must be wrong then…

How, we must ask, do the expectations of the church fathers compare with the expectations of a grammatical-historical approach? Paul, who was clearly not tied to the author’s original meaning, allowed later revelation to inform his own understanding of the Old Testament. In doing this, he was used as a model for biblical interpretation by the Fathers. Broad claims that make the church fathers followers of the GH [grammatical-historical] method need to be measured against their dependence and explicit devotion to Paul’s “method.” Further, patristic exegesis developed in a way that forces us to reconsider simplistic and general conclusions that categorize the Fathers into “literal" and “allegorical.”—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 123

Maybe your idea of history is wrong…

The incarnation is not merely an idea or event to which Scripture points; it is the key to the meaning of history itself. When the Fathers read Scripture in light of the center of history, Christ, they believed it to be a historical reading because the incarnation is the definitive moment in history. The unfolding of God’s historical action narrated in the Old Testament thus takes on meaning that would have been inaccessible to the original human writers. What was thought to be history apart from Christ is shown to be what it really is—a “shadow” waiting for fulfillment in Christ. But since Scripture points to Christ as its final end, it is pointing to a mystery that will not be exhausted this side of eternity. Thus, a historical reading of Scripture is necessarily an eschatological one as well, for the church reads Scripture in light of its own union with Christ, which has not yet reached its fulfillment.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 122

So how does Paul stack up?

In many ways the GH [Grammatical-Historical] method of interpretation as it is described on the AiG and CMI websites is actually at odds with the way the first interpreters of Scripture (the Old Testament) approached interpretation. I doubt that the apostle Paul would be viewed as a very good interpreter of Scripture if the GH ideal was the standard against which his interpretation was measured.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 114–15

Correctly handling the word of truth

Jesus’ statement is not used by the Gospel of Matthew as a defense for the clarity of Scripture [Matt 12:1–8, where Jesus's disciples are picking grain on Sabbath]. His opponents read the Scriptures and had intimate knowledge of them. Yet they did not understand them; it was actually unclear to them because they were reading it as it was meant by the original authors! Is Jesus not calling here for a deeper knowledge based on his incarnation? Something greater is here, and this requires a reading that goes beyond its original intent — a reading that is based on an understanding of Jesus as the fulfillment of the law. His opponents need to understand this in order to properly understand Scripture. They read but do not really know. For them, the Scriptures are not clear because they miss the central significance of Christ.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 111 (emphasis added)

<idle musing>
Ironic isn't it? We're taught the perspicuity of scripture (the belief that anyone can read scripture and understand its intent), yet when the Pharisees read it as it was originally meant, they miss the real meaning. How often do we do the same thing?

I'm not willing to give up the perspicuity of scripture, but it needs to be qualified with the way the early church read it: as fulfilled in Jesus. (Yes, even that needs some qualifications, but at least you're in the right ballpark!)
</idle musing>

Awe as a community building technique

"Monumental buildings, by virtue of their massive scale, can receive a large number of people, providing moments for social interaction and social sharing. Furthermore, by triggering awe, the structure’s monumentality could psychologically intensify a social gathering. In fact, some investigations have demonstrated that awe has community-building potential by making people feel connected and that it leads to sentiments of oneness. In this sense, the awe engendered by monumentality creates a binding feeling, increasing the community identification among visitors and enhancing horizontal attachment (Yannick Joye and Jan Verpooten, “An Exploration of the Functions of Religious Monumental Architecture from a Darwinian Perspective,” Review of General Psychology 17 (2013): 60)."—"The Throne Room of Assurnasirpal II: A Multisensory Experience," by Ludovico Portuese in Distant Impressions: The Senses in the Ancient Near East, ed. Ainsley Hawthorn and Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel (University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, forthcoming).

<idle musing>
Ever wonder why government buildings are so large? Or why the Lincoln Memorial, Jefferson Memorial, and Washington Monument are so huge? Even the Statue of Liberty, for that matter. The architects subconsciously knew what they were doing!

For that matter, any public gathering with larger-than-life structures, statuary, or similar props would have the same effect. That has me thinking, would a Jumbotron in a stadium or auditorium have the same effect? That would be worth researching, wouldn't it?
</idle musing>

Hidden?

God intended to communicate something to us in the Bible, and our responsibility is to interpret it correctly. This conviction is often expressed in terms of an analogy. For example, Brian Edwards states that the Bible is a “treasure box.” In order to get to the treasure within, a key must be used by Christians to unlock it.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 102

About that incarnation thing

Nice devotional on the incarnation over at Public Discourse. Here's a paragraph, but it bears reading the whole thing:

Christianity is not a set of abstract doctrines. It is a faith that lives—that loves God and neighbor actively and in every walk and work. Our final destination is not a disembodied heaven. It is a New Creation that takes up and perfects (we know not how) all human bodily and social flourishing. Christianity is so much more solid, and real, and human, than the “spiritual, but not religious” imitations of today. Christian faith touches every aspect of our lives—material, social, cultural. It does so because our God was born in a stable and nurtured by a teenaged girl named Mary.

Ideology trumps context

Preparing and writing this chapter has been another lesson for me on how some quarters of evangelicalism tend to handle disagreements and controversies. What has been seen above in some creation science appropriations of the Fathers is the tendency toward proof-texting with little to no regard for context. The results are a misappropriation of the Fathers. I applaud those who desire to show the relevance of the Fathers to the contemporary church. But when it is done at the expense of their own context and concerns, they are being misused and misappropriated. When this is done, it is difficult not to conclude that ideology is guiding their appropriation. Serious interaction with the Fathers is necessary, but this takes time, deliberation, and patience.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 93

Take a cue from St. Basil

But the theories are merely a secondary concern for Basil. Scripture does not delve into the details of creation, and Basil even wonders why we do. Theories are just that—attempts to understand what cannot be understood. Each one is refuted by the other. It is enough for Basil to see creation as a training ground where God’s creation turns us back to the Creator himself in praise and awe.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 86

Yes, it's a cult

Is Trumpism a cult? Definitely, say experts in cults. Take a gander at this (long) essay at The New Republic. Here are the final three paragraphs, but definitely worth reading the whole essay—especially before you gather with relatives over the holidays, many of whom probably differ from you in viewpoint:

We can understand Donald Trump’s rise as a civil religion giving way to its cultic expression. Con man, cult leader, populist politician: Trump is all of these, rolled into one. He has become all-encompassing, even to nonbelievers. We all feel the fatigue of merely existing in the Trump era, the rapid-fire assault on all of our political and social senses. We want immediate solutions to the Trump problem. We want to beat reason into his followers, until they recognize how wrong they are, or at the very least, submit. We want to blame them—justifiably—for perpetuating his sham.

I want these things. I want them in my gut. But I also know that the cult’s pull is so powerful that it risks destroying its opponents, by eliciting a counterproductive reaction to it. If we want to bring members of the Trump cult back into the mainstream of American life—and there will be plenty of those who say we should move on without them—resistance means not only resisting the lure of the cult and exposing its lies, but also resisting the temptation to punish its followers.

“When the cultic behavior is on a national scale, [breaking it up] is going to take a national movement,” Lalich says. Such an approach promises no immediate gratification. But it also might be the only way to move forward, rather than continue a dangerous downward spiral. Andrés Miguel Rondón, a Venezuelan economist who fled to Spain, wrote this of his own country’s experience of being caught up in an authoritarian’s fraudulent promises: “[W]hat can really win them over is not to prove that you are right. It is to show that you care. Only then will they believe what you say.”

But that takes work!

I am not interested in fighting a battle here. I am interested in offering an approach to the Fathers that respects and understands the context within which they worked and that draws on scholars who have devoted years to understanding and explaining this complex context rather than the parachute approach that simply drops in and selectively rummages for data in support of one position.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 81

Seek and (unfortunately) you will find

Athanasius's fourth—century battle with Arian interpretations of Scripture is illustrative of the issues here. There is no doubt that Athanasius held Scripture as the ultimate authority for the Christian and, therefore, all theological truth. But the Arians also agreed with this. So the battle with the Arians was “not a battle for the Bible, but a battle over the Bib1e.”(Leithart, Athanasius, 33 [emphasis added by Allert]) The Arians, as Athanasius claims throughout his Four Discourses Against the Arians, use scriptural terms but fail to accept the truth of Scripture and merely "array" themselves in scriptural language. For Athanasius, one can use Scripture but still miss its meaning. He would likely agree with the medieval saying in reference to the Bible: “This is the book in which everyone looks for his own convictions, and likewise everyone finds his own convictions."—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 79

Some statistics; use these at your family Christmas gathering

I just read a review of You Welcomed Me from IVP. The review is on a great book blog, Bob on Books. Here are the statistics:

We have a 1 in 364 billion chance of being murdered by a refugee in a terrorist attack, a 1 in 10.9 billion chance of being murdered in a terrorist attack by an illegal immigrant, while we have a 1 in 14,000 chance of being murdered by anyone, a 1 in 303 chance of dying in an auto accident, and 1 in 7 chance of dying of cancer. Immigrants and refugees in this country contributed $63 billion more than they cost this country over the last decade. Urban neighborhoods into which immigrants move often see a reduction in crime and revitalization.

Now, I'm not naive; I know that those driven by fear (and that's what it is) either won't accept, will deny, or will simply ignore facts. Fear is irrational, and human beings are irrational at core. But, still, there might be someone at your family gathering who starts spouting fear of immigrants, trying to spread their fear. You can present these facts, not to change their mind, but to show those not yet infected by fear that the fear is irrational.

Or, you can feel better yourself, knowing that the truth is securely on your side (as is scripture, by the way!).

The nasty truth

The approach to the biblical text advocated by [Ken] Ham above is heavily indebted to Enlightenment philosophers like René Descartes (1596-1650) and John Locke (1632-1704), who claimed that we could actually surmount our own context and attain pure readings of texts and reality. In fact, evangelical historian Mark Noll argues that virtually every aspect of the evangelical attachment to the Bible was shaped by the Enlightenment (Noll, Betweeen Faith and Criticism, 97).—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 81

Are you naive?

The point here is that the simple act of reading the Bible, whether in the original language or in a translation, is already a mediated event. This mediation becomes layered when we factor in our own cultural location. The assumption that we can read the Bible, or anything for that matter, from a neutral stance is naive and misguided.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 75

If only it were that simple!

Can we really read the Bible free of any influence or without acknowledging those who have gone before us?

Consider what might be involved in taking [Ken] Ham’s exhortation to just read the text and let it speak to you. The Bibles most of us use are translations from the original Hebrew and Greek. Translation is not simply a matter of finding equivalent words in two languages. The task of transposing material from one world of thought and language to another can be very complicated. These different worlds of thought require the translator to understand both cultures. This means that interpretation is already involved in the task of translation—grammatical and lexical decisions are made that allow the readers of translations to understand the Words of the text.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 73

Public Service Announcement

With the continued revelations of male sexual abuse, I suggest the following to all males:
Stop thinking with your dick!
That is all.

What kind of mystery are you looking for?

Mystery as problem solving (investigative) is concerned with what is known and able to be grasped. But revelational mystery revolves around what is unknown and ungraspable—this is why it always remains mystery even though it is revealed. Because of the Fathers’ insistence on revelational mystery, they can show us where we may just miss the point in theological study. If the purpose of proper Bible study is verifiable data, then the proper function of theology is the systematic organization of that data with which we can speak with certainty to the world. The Bible would then be treated merely as a source book of information for theology and other things. Once the information is mined from the Bible we would then have our system, and the mystery is solved. Not only does this run the risk of making the Bible superfluous, it seeks to remove “our Great mystery" and We may just think we have “so1ved” God. Then he must fit into our categories and he becomes the God we think he should be. The Fathers encourage us to let God be God.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 49–50

Our theology is impoverished!

But it is not only through the councils that the Fathers’ profundity and practicality can be seen. They also show us how to unite heart and mind in theology. In this they have something to teach those of us in the evangelical tradition who might tend toward an understanding of theology that is overly rationalistic. The Fathers show us that mere intellectual assent to a list of doctrines is an impoverished Christianity and one that needs correction and supplement.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 45

Salvation: Now or Future?

A great post over at Catalyst Resources about when and what salvation is. Read the whole thing, but these two paragraphs jumped out at me:

The second misunderstanding [of what salvation means] has been called by Dallas Willard a “bar code faith.” The scanner at the check-out line reads only the bar code on a product. If the bar code for ice cream is placed on dog food, the scanner will read “ice cream.” The content of the package is irrelevant.

Willard says a “bar code faith” operates much the same way. We take some action—we have faith, get baptized, join the church—and that gives us a new bar code. God then pays no attention to our actual sinful content. When we are scanned across the divine scanner, it reads “Christ’s righteousness.” We remain the same, only now we go to heaven. As Willard says, our present life “has no necessary connection with being a Christian as long as the ‘bar code’ does its job” (The Divine Conspiracy [Harper Collins, 1998], 37).

<idle musing>
Mind you, that's a misunderstanding of what salvation means! Bonhoeffer would call it "cheap grace." I had never heard the term "bar code faith" before, but I like it (and will use it!). I guess I have never read Dallas Willard except for excerpts. Another book to put on my list of "must-reads."
</idle musing>

Theology is practical

The location of theological reflection in the church meant that the Fathers had it in the forefront of their theologizing. For us, this communicates two main things. First, the Fathers show that deep theological thought and reflection are not antithetical to a deep spiritual life—in fact they are required. Second, theological study done for the church has significance for Christian believers. The Fathers show us that the theologian can “blend profundity and practicality” because as pastors their ultimate concern was for the spiritual well—being of their congregations. We should not, therefore, let the perceived remoteness of the theological discussion done by the Fathers keep us from recognizing their vital importance to the churchmdash;Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 44

The "rule of faith"

While the Fathers did not offer the same answers to all of these issues, they are remarkably united on the essentials, or what Ramsay calls “the rudiments of Christian confession.” He states that we can confidently affirm that the Fathers agree among themselves and with us on these essentials—belief in a triune God; in a Christ who is at once divine and human and who exercises a salvific role with respect to the human race; in the infallibility of Scripture; in the fallen condition of the human race and its need for salvation; in certain important rites, chief among them being baptism and Communion; in the church, in which unity must be preserved; and in the value of prayer.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, pages 42–43

Eleven years later and cars still are closer to bicyclists

Back in 2007, I posted a study that showed that drivers give bicyclists less room if they wear a helmet. Well, Bicycling Magazine just published an article with a link to an updated version. Bottom line?

The new paper from Walker also re-affirms that wearing a helmet was indeed associated with more “close” passes when you take into consideration that in some places, the law dictates more than one meter of room.

And a month ago they posted about "helmet scolds":

If you’ve ever ridden a bike without a helmet, you’ve likely run into helmet scolds. They’ll tell you at length why you should never ride without one, about the risks and dangers. Don’t you know cycling is perilous, even for seasoned riders? They’ll come armed with statistics and tell you about that one time they crashed unexpectedly while pedaling around the block.

Indeed. I've run into that many times over the last eleven years after ditching the helmet. So, what do I do? Well, I still don't use a helmet, although the newer designs have done a good bit to work on the problems of concussion (see my 2007 link). If they continue to make progress there, I might reconsider. One thing is certain: drivers now are more distracted. Despite laws against texting while driving, I still regularly see drivers doing so as we walk.

Because of that, I'm trying to do things to raise my visibility. I wear a fluorescent yellow jersey. When it's cold enough to wear a jacket, I usually wear my yellow one. Also, since moving to Red Wing, I have added a new strobe tail light that I use, even during the day; I seem to be getting more clearance when I have it—contrary to this post from 2015. But, it's a different culture here than on the North Shore, more traffic and more used to bicycles in general.

I have no delusions, though, that I will be seen. I'm always watching and expecting cars to either not see me, or try to run me off the road. Someone trying to run me off the road has actually only happened once in the last 15 years, by a couple of guys driving a pick-up truck, trying to prove they were "real men." On the whole, drivers have always given me enough room when they see me. My goal is to make sure they see me while also watching them assuming they don't!

How to get along

We need not express this in the same way as [Roger] Olson, but as I often tell my first-year theology classes, it is foundational to the theological task to recognize that some Christian beliefs matter more than others. Failure to make this recognition can make enemies out of friends and divide Christians over matters of relatively minor importance.—Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, page 41

<idle musing>
Amen and amen! Not everything is an essential doctrine! And you don't need to divide over such trivial issues. Of course, the trick is deciding what is essential and what isn't...rule of faith, anyone?
</idle musing>

Those neglected fathers of the church

From Early Christian Readings of Genesis One, by Craig D. Allert—a book I picked up at the recent AAR/SBL Annual Meeting.

Severa1 years ago I was invited to give a presentation to an adult Sunday school class at a Mennonite church in my community. I called the presentation “Back to the Sources: An Introduction to the Great Thinkers of the Early Church” and was excited to share my passion for the church fathers with this audience. Unfortunately, my hearers did not share my excitement. At best they could not understand why we would need anything other than what we have in our Bibles. At worst, they could not understand why a good conservative Christian would recommend these figures from a church and an age that was, in their opinion, far from the purity of New Testament Christianity. Granted, my experience above may be unique, but I doubt it. An argument could be made that the necessity of an introductory chapter in this book about the importance of the church fathers is a symptom of a greater problem within our churches that my experience illustrates. For reasons beyond the scope of this book, our own Christian heritage, which includes the church fathers, has been deemed, at best, marginally helpful for the twenty-first-century Christian. At worst, the history between the apostles and the Reformers has been judged as an era best left in the past because of its perceived distance from “true” Christianity. For many Christians the idea that we should appeal to the church fathers, who belong to that era, as part of our own Christian heritage is foreign, suspect, or even impious. The Christianity of that age has been seen as transitory, naive, and even problematic, and therefore an unnecessary resource for Christian faithfulness today. (pages 13–14)

<idle musing>
I believe he sums up well the antihistorical attitude (and hubristic pride!) of the normal evangelical Christian—at least in my experience. I once had a seminary graduate say to me about the church fathers, "Those clowns? Why should we listen to them?" I could hardly believe it! Sure, they got some things wrong, but I suspect we have a whole lot more wrong than they do—especially with an attitude like that!
</idle musing>

Back again

I've been neglecting this blog terribly as of late. I can't promise that will change, but I will try to post a bit more regularly. Part of the problem is adjusting to a new schedule. A little over a year ago, Eisenbrauns became an imprint of Penn State University Press. They asked me to work for them, doing pretty much the same things I was doing at Eisenbrauns.

But, they wanted me to do the same for the Press's own titles. So, for the past year I have been developing an email marketing program for PSU Press to try to match the reach that we had at Eisenbrauns. And, I've transitioned all the Eisenbrauns marketing to the new platform.

All of that has taken a chunk of time. Further, almost 12 months ago, we purchased a small house in Red Wing, MN, moving from Grand Marais on December 19—just in time for Christmas. The house is in good shape, so there weren't a lot of projects, but I did need to put in a garden : ) Maybe someday I'll post a picture of it. But, that took a good bit of time, too. We are loving living here, though. It's closer to parents and children (and grandchildren) and a beautiful part of the state, right along the Mississippi River.

Add to the preceding a heavy editing schedule. I freelance, so it's my own fault! But, when someone offers such marvelous books for me to edit, how can I say no? Among the items I edited this year was the Aramaic volume of the Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. That was a monster project! But lots of fun, too. Another real joy was a second-year Hebrew grammar by Eric Reymond for SBL Press: Intermediate Biblical Hebrew Grammar: A Student's Guide to Phonology and Morphology. I also managed to edit a first-year Greek grammar and a first-year Hebrew grammar, a Festschrift, a collection of LXX essays by Rösel, an Egyptology archaeology volume, a volume on John's letters in Greek, a still-forthcoming NICOT volume, a LXX monograph on Esther, a geographical commentary on Acts–Revelation, a monograph on life and mortality at Ugarit, a collection of essays on hermeneutics, and a collection of essays on textual criticism. And I'll be wrapping up the year with a collection of essays on senses in the ANE.

How could I turn them down?! Obviously, I didn't. So, I've had little time for recreational reading—although I have managed to read about 10–15 books, I just haven't been extracting from them as I usually do. But, I can encourage you to read a couple of them:

Honoring the Son, by Larry Hurtado. I picked this one up at AAR/SBL last week and read it on the way home. Great little read, based on a series of lectures he gave at some seminary somewhere.

The Dragon, the Mountain, and the Nations by Robert Miller. Great big-picture overview of the ways the myth of the dragon is utilized in various ANE and biblical texts (and an Eisenbrauns title).

I did get to read a prerelease proof of a forthcoming title from Carta while I was at AAR/SBL (thanks to Hendrickson for letting me borrow it for a day!), Ada Yardeni's final book: The National Hebrew Script: Up To The Babylonian Exile. It is currently in-press, so they didn't have actual copies available. But, it is excellent; just what you would expect from Carta and Yardeni. I can't wait to see the actual book next year at AAR/SBL in San Diego!

I'm currently reading a couple of other books; hopefully excerpts will find their way onto this blog...but this has gone on long enough and I need to get back to work!

Theological Thinking

“I am positioning myself within the broader stream of contemporary theological interpretation, approaching the biblical text within a canonical frame of reference, with the desire to see what these texts, when read as Scripture, can say about matters of life under God. It is my conviction that the fruitfulness of theological interpretation should be tested precisely in those portions of Scripture which present difficulties in terms of understanding both their message and their contemporary relevance for the life of faith.”—The Unfavored, page 7

<idle musing>
I must say, he’s correct, but also brave to tackle the whole elect, non-elect, anti-elect thing. We’ll see how this works out...
</idle musing>

Words, words, everywhere are words

They are taught that the power lies in the words, and if you get the words right, you are all right. Whereas, Paul says, the kingdom of God does not lie in words at all. The kingdom of God lies in the power that indwells those words. You cannot have the power without the words, but you can have the words without the power, and many people do.—A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 184

What you've heard is wrong…

The gospel is not the statement that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures (see 1 Cor. 15:3). The gospel is the statement that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures plus the Holy Spirit in that statement, to give it meaning and power. Just the statement itself will never do it.—A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 183

It's still paganism

We imagine that if we say certain words, they have power to bring good; if we say certain other words, they have the power to fend off the devil. That is just paganism under another form.—A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 183

Stability

For years, I read writings on atheism and philosophical unbelief to the point that my head would ache. I would turn away and get on my knees, and with joy I would say to God, “Oh, God, I know I can’t answer this man, but I thank Thee I have Thee.” I would worship on my knees after having been knocked flat by a book. If I had not met God, that book would have ruined me forever.

All those books presenting atheism, unbelief, philosophy, psychology and all the books that were then current, all the debunking books and the rest, never jarred me, for I knew Jesus Christ for myself. I had seen Him, I had known Him, He deigns to walk with me, and the glory of His presence shall be mine eternally.

You can know God like that, and then you do not have to be afraid of what you learn; you do not have to be afraid of an unbelieving professor. You can stand up and face him down and say: “I cannot answer your questions, but I can tell you my testimony."mdash;A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 176

About all those church growth programs…

To overcome the dangers facing a spiritually lethargic church is to discover true spiritual power. The power does not rest in outward form but rather in the dynamic of God’s Word.—A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 174

Eyedropper Christians

We have developed a mentality that simply cannot bring itself to attack a serious book. We have to be fed with an eyedropper, like a baby robin that has been pushed out of the nest in a storm. Because we feed Christians with an eyedropper, we have weaklings instead of great souls and great saints.—A.W. Tozer, The Dangers of a Shallow Faith, page 174

You're going to keep going until somebody gets hurt…

Remember how your parents used to say that to you when you started horsing around with your siblings? We heard it, and we used it when our kids were growing up, too. Why? Because it's true. Evil escalates. It's never content to stay in its own little corner; it's a consuming fire that devours everything in its path.

I just read an interesting take on that over at Jesus Creed by Mike Glenn; he blogs there every Friday. Here's a snippet, but please read the whole thing and think about it:

Here’s what I do know. Violence starts somewhere. Violence doesn’t just blow into our lives from parts unknown. There’s always a trail. There’s always a beginning point, a poke, that starts the violence. While we may not be responsible for any particular act of violence, all of us are responsible for creating an atmosphere, a world view where violence is an acceptable course of action.

We watch movies where the hero has finally had enough and kills his enemy in the most violent way possible. The bigger the bang, the better the movie. We play games where the object of the game is to become the most violent person in the game. Kill our adversaries with such efficiency we’re given more points to obtain more weapons to be more violently efficient in our killing. This is fun?

Here’s where we need to pay attention to the genius of Jesus’ teaching. Remember when Jesus taught us that if we were angry with our brother we were guilty of murder? That if we harbored lust in our minds for a woman, we were already guilty of adultery?

<idle musing>
The early Christians were known for their radical love and care for those around them—even those who persecuted them. May we emulate them!
</idle musing>

But that's not the way you're supposed to do it, Jesus!

Jesus didn’t do what I would have done [when he arrived at Lazarus’s tomb]. He didn’t try to fix their emotional pain by telling them about heaven. He didn’t say, “Stop crying and watch what I’m going to do.” Instead, upon feeling the pain of those he loved, Jesus entered into their emotional hurt. The same pain that stabbed at his friends also pierced him. As a result, he wept bitterly. That is, he identified with their suffering and took their pain on himself. In no way did Jesus allow his foreknowledge to separate him from their excruciating suffering. When I think of this, I am so thankful that I serve a weeping God, a God who enters into my pain and allows himself to hurt with me even though he knows that he will wipe away all my tears and free me from all pain in eternity.— William Payne, Adventures in Spiritual Warfare, page 128