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1. I read Patrick Miller’s “Aspects of the Religion of Ugarit” in Ancient Israelite Religion. Miller is discussing texts from second-millennium B.C.E. Syria-Palestine. His comments on the Ugaritic cult of the dead on page 63 stood out to me:
The key text is RS 34.126, which appears to be a funeral liturgy for a recently deceased king. The ritual serves to provide for the dead king with essential services and secure the blessings of his successor. In this context the rpum, apparently the long-dead ancestors, and the mlkm, the recently dead rulers, are invoked to take part in the ritual. In the Ugaritic king list (KTU 1.113) a deceased ancestor is referred to as an ilu=”god.” This does not necessarily mean a high god of the pantheon, but rather a divinized ancestor who has become part of the rpum and through the funerary cult has some relation to those living.
In a sense, parts of the Hebrew Bible reflect Ugaritic culture. Both believed in Rephaim, or long-dead ancestors in the realm of the dead (see Psalm 88:10; Proverbs 2:18; 9:18; 21:16). Mark Smith’s article on the Rephaim in the Anchor Bible Dictionary states that the Rephaim were a “line or group of heroes and monarchs at Ugarit[.]“ Similarly, Isaiah 14:9-10 treats the Rephaim as mighty kings who are now in the realm of the dead, having been humbled by God. In addition, there is a sense in the Hebrew Bible that the Rephaim were great men during their lifetimes. They were the giants of the land of Canaan, after all (Deuteronomy 2:11, 20; 3:13)! And, although Genesis 6:4 doesn’t refer to Rephaim, it does mention Nephilim, which could be a synonym for Rephaim (see Numbers 13:33, where the giants of Canaan are called Nephilim). According to Genesis 6:4, the Nephilim were mighty men of old, men of renown (KJV). The Rephaim were dead people who were great men during their lifetimes.
While Ugaritic culture saw the Rephaim as gods worthy of honor and provision, the Hebrew Bible took the opposite approach. In Deuteronomy 26:14, the Israelite is commanded to swear that he has not given food to the dead. Psalm 106:28 criticizes the Israelites in the wilderness for eating the sacrifices of the dead.
Why did the Hebrew Bible take this negative approach? In Christian circles, I’ve often heard that the dead people were really demons. If a person is consulting a dead person, this argument runs, then he’s opening himself up to demonic influences or deception. But, in my opinion, this projects later Christian ideas onto the Hebrew Bible. I’d like to understand the Hebrew Bible on its own terms, in light of the cultures of the ancient Near East.
One reason for the Hebrew Bible’s prohibition is that it didn’t want the Israelites to treat the dead as gods, for they were to worship the LORD alone. In this mindset, one shouldn’t try to secure blessings from ancestors, for God is the source of blessings. To treat anyone or anything other than the LORD as a god is to detract from God’s glory.
Second, the Hebrew Bible probably discouraged honoring the Rephaim because it didn’t consider them worthy of honor! They were oppressive and vain bullies, the types who picked on Israel (Isaiah 26:13-14). Why should the Israelites try to appease or honor them?
2. In Matitiahu Tsevat’s The Meaning of the Book of Job and Other Biblical Studies, I read the essay, “The Throne Vision of Isaiah.” Tsevat wrestles with God’s command to Isaiah to make the hearts of the Israelites dull so that God won’t forgive and heal them (Isaiah 6). He draws a parallel between this and the story in I Kings 22. In I Kings 22, King Ahab wants to know whether or not he should go out to battle, so he consults the court prophets of YHWH, who tell him that God will prosper his campaign. At the urging of King Jehoshaphat of Judah, Ahab then consults another prophet, Micaiah. At first, Micaiah tells Ahab that he will prosper, but that doesn’t fool Ahab, for Micaiah generally gives him negative prophecies. Micaiah then tells the truth: God has sent an evil spirit to deceive Ahab through the court prophets of YHWH, but Ahab will lose the battle and his life.
For Tsevat, the parallel with Isaiah 6 is this: Like the false prophets of I Kings 22, Isaiah gave positive, upbeat prophecies to lull the people to sleep, but these prophecies are not recorded for us. At the same time, Isaiah told the Israelites that he was deceiving them and that the situation was actually quite perilous—the same way that Micaiah informed Ahab that God was deceiving him, allowing Ahab to repent.
There may be something to this, but it’s a roundabout way for God to act. I somewhat like the approach that Tsevat dismisses as “apologetic”: that Isaiah incorporated that part about God leading the Israelites into peril after “retrospection, reflection, and interpretation” (161). Tsevat doesn’t specify what he means, but it could be this: Isaiah had a commission to bring the people to repentance so that God wouldn’t destroy Judah. But he failed, for Assyria did a lot of damage to Judah (without ultimately destroying her). Isaiah then reflected back and concluded that this was part of God’s plan all along—to use Isaiah to bring Judah down. Why would God do this? Probably so he could rebuild the nation on a righteous remnant, a theme in Isaiah 6:13.
3. At Latin mass this morning, we had philosopher priest, but I saw the priest who speaks about love. I thought the latter only came to the church when he was speaking, but I must be wrong on this.
Philosopher priest said that mass doesn’t help God out, for God is always happy and does not need us. Still, he said that God is pleased by the mass. That sounds contradictory to me, but he may reconcile the two concepts, in some way, shape, or form.
Philosopher priest also commented on the earthquake in Haiti. He said that part of Christianity is suffering with Christ. Indeed, Paul talks about knowing Christ in the fellowship of his sufferings (Philippians 3:10), and that tribulations produce character (Romans 5:3ff.). I can understand Jamie Sullivan’s statement in Walk to Remember that “without suffering, there’d be no compassion,” meaning that suffering can make us deeper and more compassionate of others.
But I don’t see this as the end-all, be-all of the issue. What about the people whose suffering leads to quick death? What moral character did they get to develop?
Also, what’s the point of knowing Christ in his suffering? I thought Christ suffered so that I wouldn’t have to. Is it a matter of suffering redemptively, as Christ did—of suffering so that we can be vessels to minister to others?
