Bible Question: Why Didn't Joseph Contact Jacob?

I have heard a particular Bible question three times in my life.  The question concerns the story of Joseph in the Book of Genesis.
 
You may know the story.  Jacob loved his son Joseph more than his other sons.  Jacob's other sons hated Joseph and sold Joseph to Ishmaelites, who took Joseph to Egypt.  Joseph had his highs and lows in Egypt, but he rose to a position of great power after interpreting two of the Pharaoh's dreams.  The Pharaoh put Joseph in charge of preparing for the coming famine and administering grain during the famine.

The question that I have heard is this: Why didn't Joseph contact his father Jacob after rising to power in Egypt?  Why didn't Joseph let his father know that he was still alive?  Why didn't Joseph try to see his father?  Joseph had the ability to do so.  He could have sent a letter to Jacob, or a chariot to Jacob.  Why didn't he do that?  Instead, the reunion occurred only after Joseph's brothers came to Egypt in search of grain, years after Joseph had risen to power.  And, for a while, Joseph's brothers did not even know that their long lost brother Joseph was the Egyptian official with whom they were interacting.

A. I first heard this question in an academic Bible class over a decade ago.  The professor asked it, and the question puzzled me.  I thought: "That's a good question, but it is not explicitly addressed in the biblical story, so why wrestle with a question for which there is not an answer?  Maybe that issue did not enter the biblical author's mind."  But, like I said, it's a good question, and I assumed that, if the professor asked it, then it must have an answer.  I was eager to hear what her answer was.

Her answer disappointed me, to tell you the truth.  I was expecting something deep, spiritual, and profound, or at least an answer that would highlight the character's motivations.  Instead, she answered that Joseph couldn't contact his father, because then we wouldn't have much of a story.  We wouldn't have the story of Joseph putting his brothers through highs and lows, while they were unaware of who he was.  The story would be rather boring, without much drama.  The reason was purely literary!

I figured that she was probably right, and that maybe there was not a better answer than that.  I wanted more, but I doubted that more was out there.  It still puzzled me why the professor was asking the question, for this is not the sort of question that academic scholars of the Bible ordinarily ask.  I shelved that experience in my mind, seeing it as an example of how the academic study of the Bible does not always lead to sexy conclusions.

B. Years later, I was reading Demetrius the Chronographer, a work from the third century B.C.E.  Demetrius actually asks the question of why Joseph did not contact his father, and he offers his own answer.  Demetrius states:

"But though Joseph had prospered for 9 years, he did not send for his father, because he was a shepherd, as were Joseph's brothers; and to the Egyptians it is disgraceful to be a shepherd.  That this was the reason he did not send for him, he himself had made clear.  For when his relatives came, he told them that if they should be summoned by the king and asked what their occupation was, they should say that they are breeders of cattle."  (Translation by J. Hanson, in James Charlesworth's Old Testament Pseudepigrapha)

Demetrius believes that Genesis 46:34 contains the answer for why Joseph did not contact Jacob after rising to power in Egypt.  The Egyptians regarded shepherds as an abomination, and Jacob was a shepherd.  Jacob would not fit in were he to come to Egypt.  Thus, Joseph did not contact him.

(Incidentally, Demetrius is interpreting Genesis 46:34 in an unusual manner.  The text reads, in the KJV: "That ye shall say, Thy servants' trade hath been about cattle from our youth even until now, both we, and also our fathers: that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians."  Demetrius interprets this to mean that Joseph was instructing his brothers to say that they were breeders of cattle to hide the fact that they were shepherds.  The passage probably means that they were to dwell in Goshen, away from the Egyptians, because they were shepherds, and the Egyptians regarded shepherds as an abomination.  In the very next chapter, Genesis 47, Joseph tells the Pharaoh about his brothers' flocks, and the brothers tell the Pharaoh that they are shepherds.)

C. The third time that I heard the question about why Joseph did not contact his father was last weekend.  I was watching the third lecture by Professor Gary Anderson on the story of Joseph.  Professor Anderson was one of my professors over a decade ago, and I was watching his lectures on the Joseph story on YouTube last weekend.

Professor Anderson was saying that the question of why Joseph did not contact Jacob was often asked in medieval times by Jewish interpreters, even though modern interpreters generally do not ask it.  That explained to me why my professor, the professor I mentioned earlier in this post, asked the question: it has been a common question within the History of Biblical Interpretation.  This was not just something that she was wondering about, but was a prominent question that interpreters have asked.

A student in Professor Anderson's class was offering his idea about why Joseph did not contact Jacob, and Professor Anderson affirmed that his idea was actually what medieval Jewish interpreters said.  The idea was that Joseph realized that he would disrupt his family were he to inform Jacob that he was still alive.  Joseph's brothers would get into trouble with their father, since they had sold Joseph into Egypt and then told their father that Joseph was dead.  Were Jacob to learn the truth, that would alienate him further from his sons (except Benjamin, his favorite).  Plus, Joseph did not want his father to learn the truth, until Joseph could be sure that his brothers had repented of their past behavior.  According to Professor Anderson, Joseph was putting his brothers into situations to see if they had repented: would they sell their brother Benjamin down the tubes to save their own skin, or would they actually care for somebody other than themselves, their father, even though their father loved them less than Benjamin?  To their credit, they passed the test.

All three of these ideas have merit, in their own way.  We would not have much of a story had Joseph contacted his father right after ascending to power in Egypt.  The story was actually necessary for the brothers to grow in character, and for true reconciliation to occur.  The reason that Joseph did not contact his father may have been that he realized that it was not the right time.  Demetrius may also have a point: Joseph doubted that his family would fit in at Egypt.  But this was not just because his father and brother were shepherds, but also because they worshiped the LORD alone, whereas Egypt was a pagan nation.  Joseph may have doubted that his family would like the Egyptians, and that the Egyptians would like his family.  God ensured that the Israelites came to Egypt, however, where they could be a light, and where they could be where they were supposed to be for the next stage of God's plan.

UPDATE: See also here and here, courtesy of Doug Ward.  There are other explanations.  One explanation is that Joseph did not send word to his father because Joseph wanted the dream of the sheaves to be fulfilled.  Joseph dreamed that his brothers' sheaves would bow before his sheaf (Genesis 37:7), and that was fulfilled when his brothers came to him when he was an authority in Egypt and bowed before him, seeking grain (Genesis 42:6-9).  In this interpretation, had Joseph sent word to his father, that would have disrupted the fulfillment of his dream.  This interpretation is debated, as you can see from the link.

Another explanation is that Joseph thought his father had disowned him----that Jacob's wife Leah convinced Jacob to do so, and that is why Joseph's brothers sold Joseph.  

Does God's Knowledge Mean God's Justice?

Is God right just because God knows more than we do?  That question entered my mind years ago when I was reading the Book of Job in the Bible.  And it entered my mind recently when I was going through two books in volume 1 of James Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach.

Michael Stone in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha dates the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra to the second-ninth centuries C.E., and S. Agourides dates the Apocalypse of Sedrach to the second-fifth centuries C.E.  The English translations that I will quote in this post are those in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.

In both the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach, the protagonists (Ezra and Sedrach, respectively) wrestle with God on such issues as hell and God’s judgment of sinners.  They question God’s fairness in these areas.  Both think that the animals are in a better position than humans, since at least animals do not suffer God’s judgment!  Ezra and Sedrach try to intercede for the sinners, that God might have mercy on them.

God sometimes offers an answer to their questions, but God also says that God knows more than they do, and so they are not particularly qualified to be in the discussion.  God says to Ezra in the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra 2:32: “Count the stars and the sand of the sea and if you will be able to count this, you will be able to argue the case with me.”  In Apocalypse of Sedrach 8, God asks Sedrach a variety of questions: How many people have been born?  How many people have died and will die?  How many hairs did the people have?  How many trees have there been in the world?  How many trees will fall and come to be?  How many leaves did the trees have?  How many drops of rain have fallen?  God also asks questions about the different waves and the winds at sea.  And, of course, Sedrach did not know the answers to these questions.  (Note: I draw some, but not all, of the language of the questions from the translation in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.)

The Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach are probably basing these scenes on the Book of Job in the Hebrew Bible.  Throughout the Book of Job, Job is questioning God’s fairness, not only regarding Job’s own suffering after Job had tried to be righteous, but also concerning the perceived unfairness in the world.  In Job 21 and 24, Job wonders why oppressors get off scot-free; live long, happy, and prosperous lives; and die in a state of peace.  In Job 38-41, God confronts Job and essentially argues that God has been around longer than Job, made things the way that they are, can do more than Job can, and knows more than Job does.  God asks Job some questions about nature: for instance, does Job know when goats and deer give birth?  Job, of course, cannot answer God’s questions.

When I read Job 38-41 years ago, I had a problem with God’s argument.  So God has been around longer than Job has, made things the way that they are, can do things that Job cannot do, and knows more than Job does.  Does any of that necessarily mean that God is right?  Just because God made and runs the world a certain way, that does not necessarily mean it is the best way.  Might does not mean right.  And knowing a bunch of trivia about nature does not necessarily mean that one is right, moral, or just.  That was what was in my mind when I was going through the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach: God knowing all those details about life and nature does not mean that hell is just.

I might as well incorporate my church write-up into this post, since it is relevant to this topic.  The pastor at the church that I attended last Sunday was preaching about James 3:13-18, which contrasts two types of wisdom.  The wisdom from below leads to envy, strife, and self-glorification, whereas the wisdom from above is about purity, peace, gentleness, and mercy.  The pastor was saying that wisdom and intelligence are not necessarily the same thing, for a person can be intelligent and use his intelligence for evil ends.  What is important is the goal towards which one’s intelligence is being applied.

That said, how can God appeal to God’s intelligence as justification for God’s actions?  If intelligence by itself does not necessarily entail morality or wisdom, can God’s intelligence truly justify God’s actions?
One can make a case that we should not dismiss the value of God’s intelligence too quickly.  A person who knows more about a machine than I do is more competent to use that machine in a productive manner.  Similarly, one can say that God is more qualified to run the universe than humans beings are, since God knows more about it.  In addition, while Job could look around and see things in life that struck him as unfair or as just plain wrong, Job may have felt that, overall, the cosmos ran rather well.  The animals got fed.  The birds flew.  Job may have believed that there was some wisdom and order in the course of nature, so God could appeal to that in defending Godself before Job.  We, too, can point to strange and seemingly wrong details of life and nature, but nature does work for our benefit, on some level.

But perhaps there is another way to understand how God’s superior knowledge can justify God’s actions.  Maybe God’s point to Job, Ezra, and Sedrach is not that God knows more than they do, and thus God is right, and how dare they question God!  Maybe God’s point is that God has this intimate knowledge of God’s creation because God cares about it.  Job, Ezra, and Sedrach are questioning whether God cares and is truly good. God’s response may be that God knows God’s creation better than they do, so they cannot accuse God of not caring.  Like many of us, God intimately knows and pays attention to what is important to God.  To quote Matthew 10:29-31:

29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows. (KJV)

The point could be this: God’s knowledge is an indication of God’s love, so God was not being flippant when God constructed hell or does anything else that puzzles us.  God does these things for a reason.

The question would then be whether one can make a case for this interpretation from the Book of Job, the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra, and the Apocalypse of Sedrach.  In all honesty, it is ambiguous.  The Book of Job could lean in that direction, for God’s maintenance of the cosmos is arguably an act of love.  God could be saying to Job that God lovingly maintains nature, and thus Job is wrong to argue that God is unjust.  The Greek Apocalypse of Ezra is rather punitive.  So is the Apocalypse of Sedrach, and yet its opening chapter is about the beauties of love.

Still, seeing God’s knowledge as an act of love could help us better understand the way that God is: God is not one who bullies people with God’s knowledge, but one who knows because God cares.

Were the Pastoral Epistles Responding to the "Acts of Paul and Thecla"?

I recently read the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” in The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden.

I think it was in an introductory New Testament class that I first heard the idea that the Pastoral Epistles in the New Testament (I-II Timothy and Titus) were a response to the “Acts of Paul and Thecla.”
The idea makes sense, at first.  In the “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” the apostle Paul’s preaching persuades Thecla, a woman, to become a Christian.  Thecla embraces the Christian path of celibacy that Paul preaches, so she refuses to marry Thamyris, the man to whom she is betrothed.  According to Paul in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” God wants people to be celibate.  Thecla’s decision is controversial and places her life at risk.  Thecla also teaches people the Christian faith.

In the Pastoral Epistles, we see a different perspective.  The Pastoral Epistles are attributed to the apostle Paul, but many scholars doubt that Paul was the one who wrote them; there are conservative scholars, however, who think that he did.  When I mention Paul in discussing the Pastoral Epistles, I will mean Paul as he is depicted in those epistles, whether he was the person who wrote them or not.

Whereas Paul in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” is very pro-celibacy, Paul in I Timothy believes that women should marry and have children (I Timothy 2:15; 5:14).  In I Timothy 4:3, Paul criticizes false teachers who forbid people to marry.  Whereas Thecla in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” teaches the Christian faith, Paul in I Timothy 2:12 forbids women to teach.  II Timothy 3:6 criticizes false teachers who “creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts” (KJV).  Some scholars think that sounds like what Paul did in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla.”

In short, the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” depicts Thecla converting to Christianity and rejecting society’s expectations that she become a wife and mother.  I Timothy, by contrast, maintains that Christian women should marry and raise children rather than alienating society with bizarre behavior.  And II Timothy 3:6 seems to advocate that women stay at home rather than leaving the household to follow a teacher.

In reading the “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” however, I developed doubts that the Pastoral Epistles were a response to it.  Rather, the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” seemed to me to be using the Pastoral Epistles, or at least II Timothy.

The “Acts of Paul and Thecla” mention Demas and Hermogenes as companions of Paul, and they are depicted negatively.  Where have we seen those names?  In II Timothy.  In II Timothy 4:10, Paul says that Demas forsook him because Demas loved the present world.  Similarly, Demas in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” forsakes and betrays Paul when Demas is bribed.  II Timothy 1:15 mentions Hermogenes as a companion of Paul.  Moreover, II Timothy 1:16 says that Onesiphorus refreshed Paul, and Onesiphorus was a supporter of Paul in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla.”  Vridar has a chart here that lists these and other parallels between the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” and II Timothy.

The “Acts of Paul and Thecla” also seemed to me to be interpreting II Timothy in light of its pro-celibacy ideology.  II Timothy 2:18 attacks a heresy that says that the resurrection from the dead is past.  In the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” 3:4, Demas and Hermogenes want to teach Thecla “that the resurrection which [Paul] speaks of is already come, and consists in our having children” (translation in The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden).  In the “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” Paul is teaching people to be celibate and to live in light of the future resurrection from the dead, but there is a heresy going around that the resurrection from the dead occurs when women have children.  According to this heresy, childbirth is a sort of resurrection.

I did some research to see what scholarship has said about the relationship between the Pastoral Epistles and the “Acts of Paul and Thecla.”  My impression is that, in the 1980’s, scholars like Dennis MacDonald and others argued that I Timothy was a response to the “Acts of Paul and Thecla.”  Later, scholars were saying that these two works are independent of each other but reflected different views on what the roles of women should be in the Christian church.  Richard Bauckham argued that the author of the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” drew from II Timothy.  And, in the article “I Permit No Woman to Teach Except for Thecla: The Curious Case of the Pastoral Epistles and the Acts of Paul Reconsidered” (Novum Testamentum 54 (2012): 176-203), Matthijs den Dulk argues that the author of the “Acts of Paul and Thecla” rejected I Timothy and its ideas, while drawing from II Timothy.  Matthijs den Dulk even rejects the idea that II Timothy 3:16 relates to what Paul did in the “Acts of Paul and Thecla,” arguing that there are differences between the two.

See here, here, and here.

When the Bad Side Can Do Miracles, Too: Apocalypse of Elijah 3 and Gospel of Nicodemus 5

Christianity has long regarded Christian miracles as signs that the Christian religion is true: God, through the miracle, is authenticating to people the truth of the Christian religion.  Yet, there appears to be some acknowledgment within the Old and New Testaments that evil people, people who are not from God, can perform miracles or impressive wonders, too, and can deceive others in the process.

One can then ask a question: Are miracles trustworthy signs that the Christian religion is true, when the bad side can do miracles, too?  After all, Christianity would deny that the bad side’s miracles show the truth of the bad side’s religion, right?  So why would Christian miracles indicate the truth of Christianity?

I remember atheist Christopher Hitchens asking this question in a debate with a Christian.  Hitchens referred to passages in the Book of Exodus in which the Pharaoh’s magicians were able to do some of the same signs that Moses did (Exodus 7:11, 22; 8:7).

I have wrestled with this question before on this blog.  See, for example, my posts here and here.

In this particular post, I want to talk about how two ancient religious documents interact with this question.

The first document is the Apocalypse of Elijah.  This work has Jewish and Christian elements, and James H. Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha dates it to the first-fourth centuries C.E.  Apocalypse of Elijah 3 explicitly addresses the question of the bad side’s miracles.  I will quote O.S. Wintermute’s translation.

The second document is the Gospel of Nicodemus, or the Acts of Pilate.  As I said in my post here, proposed dates for the Gospel of Nicodemus have ranged from the third century C.E. to the sixth century C.E.  The Gospel of Nicodemus 5 is relevant to the question of the bad side’s miracles.  I will be relying on the English translation that is in The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden.

A.  The Apocalypse of Elijah 3 has a list of miracles that the son of lawlessness, or the Antichrist, will be able to do: he will cause the sun to fall, darken, and shine; he will cause the moon to become bloody; he will descend with the heavenly bodies; he will walk on water; he will heal the deaf, the mute, the blind, the lepers, and others who are ill; he will cast demons out of people; and he will be able to transform himself visually, into a young child or an old man.

But the Apocalypse of Elijah 3 says that there is one thing that the Antichrist will be unable to do: he cannot raise the dead: “He will do the works which the Christ did, except for raising the dead alone.  In this you will know that he is the son of lawlessness, because he is unable to give life.”

The Apocalypse of Elijah 3 offers other ways for Christians living in the end-times to identify the Antichrist.

First of all, although the Antichrist will claim to be Christ, Christians can know that his claim is untrue on account of the manner in which the true Christ will return.  According to Apocalypse of Elijah 3, the true Christ will come from heaven surrounded by doves and angels, and “The whole world will behold him like the sun which shines from the eastern horizon to the western” (cp. Matthew 24:27).  If someone claims to be Christ and does not appear in that manner, then he is not the true Christ.

Second, the Apocalypse of Elijah says what the Antichrist will look like: “…a skinny-legged young lad, having a tuft of gray hair at the front of his bald head.  His eyebrows will reach to his ears.  There is a leprous bare spot on the front of his hands.”  Although the Antichrist will be able to transform his visual appearance, the characteristics of his head will remain present, however he is appearing.

I have questions about the Apocalypse of Elijah’s argument.  First, how can the Antichrist cast out demons?  When some of the Pharisees were accusing Jesus of casting out demons through the power of Beelzebub, the prince of demons, Jesus replied that Satan would not undermine his own kingdom, presumably by casting out demons (Matthew 10; Mark 3; Luke 11).  Would that not preclude the Antichrist from casting out demons?  Second, Revelation 13 depicts the Beast’s deadly wound being healed.  Some Christians (i.e., Tim Lahaye and Jerry Jenkins in the Left Behind series) interpret that to mean that the Antichrist will die and rise from the dead, or at least appear to do so.  But the Apocalypse of Elijah 3 denies that the Antichrist will be able to raise the dead or to give life.

B.  In the Gospel of Nicodemus, Jewish authorities say repeatedly that Jesus does his miracles and casts out demons through sorcery or demonic power.  In the Gospel of Nicodemus 5, Nicodemus defends Jesus and says how people can tell that Jesus’ miracles indicate that Jesus is from God.

Essentially, Nicodemus makes the same sort of argument that the Jewish leader Gamaliel makes in Acts 5:35: if Jesus is from God, then his works will continue; if not, then they will cease, or come to nought.  Nicodemus appeals to the example of Pharaoh’s magicians in the time of Moses: they were unable to copy some of Moses’ miracles, plus they and their followers perished.  Nicodemus also says that Jesus’ works are unprecedented: no one has done those sorts of miracles before, and no one will do them again.

Indeed, Pharaoh’s magicians did get to the point where they were unable to imitate Moses’ miracles.  In Exodus 8:18-19, they are unable to bring forth lice, and they acknowledge to Pharaoh that the plague of lice is from God.  In Exodus 7, when they turn rods into serpents like Moses did, Moses’ rod eats their rods, showing that Moses’ God is superior.  Although Pharaoh’s magicians could do some of the same things that Moses did, God still prevailed.

I have some questions about the Gospel of Nicodemus’ argument.  Does it presume that we should wait and see how things turn out before we make a judgment?  How long would we have to wait before we can make a decision about who to trust or not trust?

In terms of the end times, perhaps a Christian can say that there will come a point when God is obviously prevailing—-God will send plagues—-and yet people will still follow the Beast, even though God is giving them an opportunity to repent (Revelation 16:9).  Then and there, they will know the truth, yet will reject it.  In the Apocalypse of Elijah, by contrast, the followers of the Antichrist are outraged with the Antichrist because he has led them down a dead end.

Items from the Gospel of Nicodemus

I recently read the “Gospel of Nicodemus” in The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden.  The English translation there is what I will quote in this post.

The “Gospel of Nicodemus” is also known as the “Acts of Pontius Pilate.”  Scholars have differed about its date, and proposed dates have ranged from the third to the sixth centuries C.E. (see here, here, here, here, and here).  Clayton N. Jefford in his article about the “Acts of Pilate” in the Anchor Bible Dictionary states that many medieval manuscripts have added a section to the “Acts of Pilate” about Christ’s descent into hell.  According to Jefford, these two writings combined “circulated…under the title of the ‘Gospel of Nicodemus.'”

The “Gospel of Nicodemus” covers the time from Christ’s trial to events after Christ’s resurrection.  In this Gospel, the Jewish authorities accuse Jesus before the Roman authority Pontius Pilate of violating the Sabbath.  Jewish defenders of Jesus bring in people Jesus healed to testify before Pilate, but Jesus’ Jewish opponents have their excuses to explain those healings away: that Jesus heals people with sorcery or demonic power.  Jesus is crucified.

The hostile Jewish authorities imprison Joseph of Arimathea after Joseph arranges to bury Jesus, but an angel delivers Joseph from their custody.  After that happens, the Jewish authorities begin to soften somewhat in their stance towards Jesus.  Why did this miracle, of all miracles, open them up to the possibility that Jesus may have been from God?  My guess is that they were surprised and impressed that Joseph could escape from their secure custody!  They could not explain that away, since they were unwilling to admit flaws in their security system! 

A priest and a Levite see the resurrected Jesus talking with his disciples and tell the other Jewish authorities about this.  Two sons of Simeon (the Simeon in Luke 2 who prophesied about Jesus when Jesus was a baby) were raised from the dead for a brief period of time (a la Matthew 27:52), and they testify that they saw Jesus come into hell and empty it of the souls imprisoned there.  The Jewish authorities search the Scriptures and conclude that Jesus is the Messiah, and they become Christians.

Here are some thoughts.  In a few cases, I have more questions than answers.

A.  Scholars and historians have long discussed the history of anti-Judaism within Christianity, as Christians called Jews Christ-killers.  This contributed to the persecution of Jews during the Middle Ages, and it may have set the stage for the Holocaust in the twentieth century.  Such issues were discussed in 2004, with the release of Mel Gibson’s controversial film, The Passion of the Christ.

In light of that, it was noteworthy to me how pro-Jewish the “Gospel of Nicodemus” is.  In the “Gospel of Nicodemus,” there are Jewish defenders of Jesus.  And the hostile Jewish authorities ultimately become believers in Jesus.

The “Gospel of Nicodemus” may have been drawing from themes in the New Testament.  Acts 6:7, for example, states that there were many priests who became obedient to the faith.  In addition, the “Gospel of Nicodemus” may, in its own way, have fit within an environment of Christian anti-Judaism, since many Christian persecutors of the Jews tried to pressure Jews to convert to Christianity.

B.  Jesus’ emptying of hell puzzled me for two reasons.

First of all, Beelzebub and Satan are different characters altogether in the “Gospel of Nicodemus.”  Beelzebub is the ruler of the underworld, whereas Satan was on earth plotting to get Jesus killed.  Beelzebub is upset with Satan because Satan’s plots got Jesus sent to the underworld, which Jesus is now in the process of emptying!  This puzzles me because passages such as Mark 12:23, Matthew 12:26, and Luke 11:18 appear to equate Satan with Beelzebub.  The “Gospel of Nicodemus” may be sensitive to certain tensions or complexities within the New Testament, however: that not all hostile spiritual powers are in the underworld (see, for example, Ephesians 6:12, which refers to spiritual wickedness on high); and that Satan in the Gospels orchestrates Jesus’ death (Luke 22:3), yet tries to discourage Jesus from dying (Matthew 16:21-23; Mark 8:31-33).  Such factors may have encouraged the writer of this part of the “Gospel of Nicodemus” to regard Beelzebub and Satan as two different characters, in different places, with differences of opinion.

Secondly, there is the question of the extent of Jesus’ emptying of hell.  Does Jesus only deliver the righteous souls from hell, or does he deliver every soul?  The people Jesus delivers from hell are called saints.  At the same time, they are said to be burdened under the weight of original sin and guilt over their own unrighteousness, and Beelzebub does appear to be concerned that Jesus is cleaning out the place.  Did Jesus make every soul into a saint when he delivered that soul from hell?

C.  I grew up in Armstrongism, which denied that people have immortal souls that go to heaven or hell right after death.  We believed that people were in a state of unconsciousness until the resurrection of the dead, which would occur after Christ’s second coming.

A challenge to our view was the thief on the cross, to whom Jesus said “Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43 KJV).  We argued that the King James Version and other English translations have the punctuation in the wrong place: that it should read, “Verily I say unto thee today, thou shalt be with me in paradise.”  In our view, Jesus was assuring the thief on the cross that he would eventually be with Jesus in paradise, after the resurrection of the dead, not that his soul would be with Jesus in paradise that very day.

I once heard Garner Ted Armstrong mock or question what he considered to be an inconsistency within mainstream Christianity.  On the one hand, he noted, many Christians say that the thief was with Jesus in paradise immediately after the two of them had died—-that very day.  On the other hand, many Christians maintain that Jesus went to hell after his death.  So which was it?  Was Jesus (and the thief) in hell or in heaven right after his death?

A number of Christians have offered solutions to this.  A popular answer is that paradise was the righteous section of hell, and Jesus went there after his death (with the thief) and took paradise to heaven.

The “Gospel of Nicodemus” has its own scenario: that the thief went to heaven at the time when Jesus was emptying out hell.  This, presumably, was occurring the day that the two of them died.  In this scenario, the thief was in paradise the day that he died.

That scenario raises questions in my mind, especially because Jesus in John 20:17 tells Mary Magdalene after his resurrection not to touch him because he has not yet ascended to his Father.  Does that mean that Jesus did not go to heaven before that time?  If so, would that preclude the thief from being with Jesus in heaven on the day of their death?

That depends on one’s interpretation of John 20:17, and the point that Jesus was trying to make there.  Perhaps his point was that his risen, glorified body had not yet ascended to present itself as a wavesheaf offering before God.  That does not preclude his soul from going to heaven prior to that point.  Or Jesus’ point may be that Mary does not need to cling to him because he has not yet ascended to heaven, so they still have time to see each other and enjoy each other’s company.  That, too, does not preclude Jesus’ soul from going to heaven prior to his resurrection.  See here for my post about John 20:17.

Yet, something still puzzles me.  I do not recall the “Gospel of Nicodemus” saying explicitly that Jesus’ soul went to heaven between the time of his death and resurrection.  Jesus liberates souls from hell, and they then go to heaven.  The thief on the cross also goes to heaven.  Yet, I recall nothing about Jesus going to heaven at that time.  In light of that, is the thief on the cross in the “Gospel of Nicodemus” truly with Jesus in paradise on the day of their death, a la Luke 23:43?

D.  In John 18:31, we read: “Then said Pilate unto them, Take ye him, and judge him according to your law. The Jews therefore said unto him, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death” (KJV).

The Jews say that it is not lawful for them to put a person to death, and this is why they want Pilate to do so.  Many commentators interpret this to mean that the Romans did not allow the Jews to practice the death penalty at that time.  C. Marvin Pate, on pages 329-331 of 40 Questions About the Historical Jesus, argues for this position and, using Josephus and rabbinic sources, discusses when the Jewish authorities did and did not have the authority to execute criminals.

The “Gospel of Nicodemus” appears to have a different interpretation of John 18:31, however: that the Jewish law of Moses forbids them to put a person to death, and that is why the Jewish authorities want Pilate to execute Jesus. 

The Jewish authorities in “Gospel of Nicodemus” 4:16 say, “Our law commands us not to put any man to death…”  Earlier, in 3:5, Pilate says to the Jewish authorities that “The command, therefore thou shalt not kill, belongs to you, but not to me.”

Are the Jewish authorities saying that the law of Moses forbids them to enact the death penalty, under the commandment “Thou shalt not kill” (Exodus 20:13)?  The problem is that, in 4:14, the Jewish authorities express to Pilate awareness that the law of Moses allows for the death penalty: “Our law saith, he shall be obliged to receive nine and thirty stripes, but if after this manner he shall blaspheme against the Lord, he shall be stoned.”

There are various considerations in my mind as I wrestle with this:

—-Could Pilate and the Jewish authorities be saying that it is against the law of Moses to put an innocent person to death?  Pilate in 5:46 asks, “What will it profit you to shed innocent blood?”  The problem is that the Jewish authorities do not believe that Jesus is innocent, at this point.

—-Could the “Gospel of Nicodemus” be acknowledging an aversion within rabbinic Judaism towards the death penalty, which appears in Mishnah Makkoth 1:10, and in the numerous hurdles and safeguards in Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 40a-b?  Moreover, according to Jacob Milgrom in his Jewish Publication Society commentary on the Book of Numbers, rabbinic Judaism understood the penalty of karet (being cut off) to be something that God does, not something that human beings do: God can kill certain sinners prematurely, or in the afterlife (pages 405-408).  Yet, as Milgrom notes, there is acknowledgement within rabbinic literature that the authorities of Israel are allowed by God to carry out the death penalty.

—-Could the discussion in “Gospel of Nicodemus” 4 concern the manner of the death penalty: the Jewish authorities want Jesus crucified, whereas their law only allows them to stone him?  They want Jesus, not just to die, but to endure the shame that accompanies crucifixion.  This is a tempting solution, since the Jewish authorities stress that they want Jesus to be crucified.  But does their law forbid them to hang a person?  Deuteronomy 21:22 seems to indicate otherwise.

Perhaps there is some technicality in the law of Moses that prevents the Jewish authorities from applying the death penalty in the specific case of Jesus, even if the law of Moses allows for the death penalty.  To execute Jesus, in that case, would violate “Thou shalt not kill.”

Exodus 22:2-3 and Self-Defense

Exodus 22:2-3 posits a situation in which a thief is breaking into somebody's home:

2 If a thief is found breaking in, and is beaten to death, no bloodguilt is incurred;
3 but if it happens after sunrise, bloodguilt is incurred. (NRSV)

When I first read this verse, it resonated with me because God was permitting self-defense.  You hear discussions about the Sermon on the Mount, especially Jesus' exhortation that people turn the other cheek (Matthew 5:39).  People wonder if Jesus there is forbidding people to protect themselves, their loved ones, or others from those who are immediately threatening their lives.  Like many, I have struggled with Matthew 5:39.  Exodus 22:2-3, on the other hand, struck me as realistic.  Call me a counter-Marcionite, in this case!

But I did not understand v 3.  Why would God allow people to protect themselves from thieves during the night, but not during the day?

I have been reading the first century Jewish thinker Philo's take on this issue (Special Laws IV:7-10), and also various other people's interpretations: Nahum Sarna's Jewish Publication Society commentary on Exodus; Jeffrey Tigay's comments in the Jewish Study Bible; Ed Greenstein's comments in The HarperCollins Study Bible; The IVP Bible Background Commentary; John Calvin; Rashi; John MacArthur; Keil-Delitzsch; and the commentators featured on E-Sword (i.e., John Gill, Matthew Henry, Adam Clarke, Barnes, JFB, etc.).

The commentators phrase things differently, and some of them emphasize things that others do not emphasize.  Still, overall, they have roughly the same explanation regarding Exodus 22:2-3.
Their idea is this: if a thief is breaking into a house at night, there is a greater probability  that the thief will murder the residents of the house.  The thief knows that people are in the house at the time of the theft, since the thief is breaking in at night, when people are at home and are sleeping.  Self-defense is justified in that case, for the residents do not know if the thief will kill them or not.

During the daytime, the situation is different.  The thief is primarily interested in stealing, since he does not even know if anyone is at home.  He would probably prefer for no one to be at home, since in that case no one would identify him as the thief and turn him in!  Philo makes the point that, during the daytime, residents can take the thief to the judges, and there will more likely be people around to help them against the thief.  During the nighttime, people are asleep, so neighbors will be less likely to help the residents then.  During the daytime, by contrast, neighbors are awake, alert, and around in case the residents need help.  In short, there is less danger to residents during the daytime when a thief breaks into a house, and residents are able to pursue alternative paths to killing the thief to protect themselves, their loved ones, and their property.

Philo says that to kill a thief when he breaks into a house in the daytime is to yield to passion rather than reason, which, for Philo, is a big no-no.  Philo also says that such an act would itself be theft in that it steals from justice.  Of the commentators that I read, Matthew Henry was the only one who explicitly appealed to compassion and mercy for the thief.  Sarna, however, acknowledged that Exodus 22:2-3 had a humanitarian element and contrasted that with certain other ancient Near Eastern laws:

“The laws of Eshnunna also deal with the topic of theft and likewise distinguish between daytime and nighttime offenses, but they are concerned solely with the protection of property and ignore the humanitarian issue.  Hammurabi simply prescribes the death penalty for the thief who made a breach in a house or committed robbery.”  (Page 130 of the Jewish Publication Society commentary on Genesis)

There are cultures that had different sets of laws for this situation, and people who interpreted the Torah a bit differently.  They may realize that things are not so simple as a literal interpretation of Exodus 22:2-3 would indicate.  After all, a thief breaking in during the daytime can immediately threaten a resident's life, and there may not be anyone around to help.  What does a person do then? Are his or her hands tied because he or she is forbidden to kill a thief in self-defense during the day?

John Calvin refers to the Roman Twelve Tables, which permit self-defense during the night and during the day.  Calvin then states: "But, since God had sufficiently repressed by other laws murders and violent assaults, He is silent here respecting robbers who use the sword in their attempts at plunder. He therefore justly condemns to death those who have avenged by murder a theft in open day."  Calvin seems to be divorcing Exodus 22:3 from self-defense, saying that it concerns instead an attempt to carry out personal vengeance against someone who stole from one's house during the day.  For Calvin, it seems, Exodus 22:3 does not forbid self-defense during the day, but it does forbid being so concerned about possessions that one kills a thief who is not an immediate danger.

The medieval Jewish exegete Rashi presents a not-so-literal interpretation of Exodus 22:3.  For Rashi, the sun shining on the thief in that passage relates not so much to the timing of the theft.  Rather, it relates to the understanding that the victim has of the thief's motivations----the light that the victim has on the situation.  Does the victim perceive that the thief is peaceably disposed and is not an immediate threat to the victim's life?  If so, then the victim is forbidden to kill the thief.  According to Nahum Sarna, the rabbinic Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael contains a similar opinion.  Rashi may have gotten the idea from the Mekhilta. 

I think that Exodus 22:2-3 does well to balance self-defense with a regard for the life of the thief.  Of course, we should care about the people we love and protect them if we can.  On the other hand, a high regard for self-defense can go in trigger-happy directions, or directions that value property over people.  The abuses of Stand-Your-Ground laws show this to be true.  

Not All Together: The Exodus, Prophets, and Kings

This will be somewhat of a rambling post, but not horribly rambling.  I will start out with what Philo says about the Exodus in Special Laws II:217-219.  Then, I will interact with a fictional book that I recently read about the Exodus: Mesu Andrews' Miriam.  (I received a complimentary review copy of that from the publisher, by the way.)  Finally, I will offer some thoughts about the ABC TV show On Kings and Prophets, which is about Saul, David, and Samuel. 

In Deuteronomy 26, there is a law about how the Israelites are to bring firstfruits to God at the sanctuary.  In doing so, the Israelites are to make a statement to God about where they came from, and where they are now.  The statement is in vv 5-10, and it is as follows:

A Syrian ready to perish was my father, and he went down into Egypt, and sojourned there with a few, and became there a nation, great, mighty, and populous:
6 And the Egyptians evil entreated us, and afflicted us, and laid upon us hard bondage:
7 And when we cried unto the LORD God of our fathers, the LORD heard our voice, and looked on our affliction, and our labour, and our oppression:
8 And the LORD brought us forth out of Egypt with a mighty hand, and with an outstretched arm, and with great terribleness, and with signs, and with wonders:
9 And he hath brought us into this place, and hath given us this land, even a land that floweth with milk and honey.
10 And now, behold, I have brought the firstfruits of the land, which thou, O LORD, hast given me. (KJV)

The first century Jewish exegete (or eisegete) Philo of Alexandria renders this recitation as follows, in Special Laws II:217-219:

"The leaders of our nation renounced Syria, and migrated to Egypt. Being but few in number, they increased till they became a populous nation. Their descendants being oppressed in innumerable ways by the natives of the land, when no assistance did any longer appear to be expected from men, became the supplicants of God, having fled for refuge to entreat his assistance. (218) Therefore he, who is merciful to all who are unjustly treated, having received their supplication, smote those who oppressed them with signs and wonders, and prodigies, and with all the marvellous works which he wrought at that time. And he delivered those who were being insulted and enduring every kind of perfidious oppression, not only leading them forth to freedom, but even giving them in addition a most fertile land; (219) for it is from the fruits of this land, O bounteous God! that we now bring you the first fruits; if indeed it is a proper expression to say that he who receives them from you brings them to you. For, O Master! they are all your favours and your gifts, of which you have thought us worthy, and so enabled us to live comfortably and to rejoice in unexpected blessings which thou hast given to us, who did not expect them."  (C.D. Yonge's translation)

Philo may have composed this version of the recitation himself or drawn it from someplace else.  This version of the recitation probably draws from the Septuagint, but it also adds elaboration of its own.  The Septuagint of Deuteronomy 26:3 states that the Israelite's father cast aside Syria and went down to Egypt.  Similarly, Philo's version of the recitation affirms that the leaders of Israel renounced Syria and went down to Egypt.  Philo's version also elaborates on the Israelites calling out to God while being oppressed, and God delivering them.  In Philo's version, the Israelites cry out to God when there is no other place to turn, when it did not appear that any human being would help them.

This made me think about Mesu Andrews' Miriam, which is about the Exodus.  In Miriam, the Israelites have to make some pretty serious adjustments when Moses comes to deliver them.  They are not exactly on the right page religiously.  Moses' sister Miriam worships the God of Israel under the name of El Shaddai, but she has to transcend her longstanding comfortable relationship with God when this God is about to do something new.  Miriam's nephew Eleazar does not even know if he likes this God whom Moses is proclaiming, and who is striking the Egyptians (and, initially, even the Israelites) with plagues.  And many Israelites worship pagan gods, including the pagan gods of Egypt.  What is more, there are Israelites who are reluctant to go out into the desert and start a new life.  Eleazar is fearful of his Egyptian oppressors and the power they have over his life and the lives of anyone he may love.  Still, that existence is what he knows, and he is hesitant to part from it for the unknown. 

This is not exactly the picture that we get in The Ten Commandments (1956) or The Prince of Egypt.  In the 1956 Ten Commandments, the Israelites, with the possible exception of Dathan, believe in the Hebrew God.  They hope for deliverance.  They cry out to God for deliverance.  Their faith is the only thing they have to hold onto in the midst of their bitter life.  The Prince of Egypt opens with the song "Deliver Us," as the Israelite slaves cry out to God to deliver them and to fulfill God's promises to them.  Later in the movie, Miriam and Zipporah sing, "Many nights we prayed, with no proof anyone could hear..." 

Mesu Andrews' version is probably more (albeit not exactly) similar to the 2006 ABC version of The Ten Commandments.  There, the Israelites have different opinions about the God of Israel.  Some believe in God, while others reject God or do not believe in him.  "Then where is he?!", Moses' father Amram shouts at one of his pious fellow Israelites.  "What has he ever done for us?!"

Both Mesu Andrews' version of the Exodus and the version that is in the 1956 Ten Commandments and The Prince of Egypt can find support in Scripture.  The Israelites did cry out to God when they were suffering oppression in Egypt, according to Deuteronomy 26:7.  And yet, Ezekiel 20 paints a picture of God trying to show the Israelites in Egypt his divine power.  In that chapter, God encourages the Israelites to reject the gods of Egypt.  But the Israelites are stubbornly resistant towards God's plea.  God does not just want to deliver the Israelites physically but also spiritually, and the latter task is very difficult.

Then there is Exodus 2-3.  The Israelites cry when they are in bondage, and God hears their cry and sees their suffering.  What is interesting is that the passage does not explicitly say that they were crying out to God in prayer.  It says that they were crying.  They could have  been groaning on account of their afflictions, without calling out to God.  Still, their cries reached God's ear.

Which version do I prefer?  All of them contribute valuable insights, in my opinion.  Hoping in the face of hopelessness can be powerful.  At the same time, many of us can find that our bondage is not simply physical but psychological and spiritual as well.  We may become accustomed to our bondage, or we may buy into the societal values that keep us in bondage rather than transcending them through faith.  I think that Mesu Andrews should have done something with the biblical concept of the Israelites calling out to God.  Still, her portrayal of the Israelites as not exactly on the right page when God was showing up to deliver them is an intriguing take on the story.

That brings me to the ABC program On Kings and Prophets.  This show premiered last Tuesday, and it is about the biblical story of Saul, David, and Samuel.  In the show, Samuel is a spooky prophet who tells King Saul, in the name of the LORD, to slaughter the Amalekites, in retaliation for the Amalekites attacking Israel hundreds of years before soon after the Exodus.  Saul is reluctant to do this for a variety of reasons.  Saul is concerned about the Philistines, not the Amalekites, who are not an immediate threat to Israel.  Saul wonders why he should attack Amalek over something that took place hundreds of years before.  Saul reflects on how Israel is supposed to be a light to the nations, and he wonders if he would be imitating the brutality of the Amalekites were he to slaughter all of them----men, women, and children.  Then there are people who are telling him that Samuel is interested in power, anyway, since Samuel used to be in charge of Israel, until Saul became king.

Then there is David.  At least in the first episode, David is not particularly pious.  He is a goodhearted man, for he tries to intercede with his father when his father cannot pay his taxes, due to a lion eating his flock.  David kills the lion, but he attributes that more to his skill or to luck than to God.  Michal, Saul's daughter, who would eventually become David's wife, tells David that God was helping him out.  David hears the idea, but it is somewhat odd, or foreign, to him. 

The show's interaction with the slaughter of the Amalekites is intriguing, and yet it could have been a little more balanced.  In the Bible, when Samuel kills Agag, the king of Amalek,  Samuel does not just mention something that occurred hundreds of years before, which is what happens in the show.  Rather, Samuel says that Agag's sword left women childless, and now Samuel was doing the same to him (I Samuel 15:33).  Granted, there are many who doubt or dispute that the Conquest in the Bible can be adequately defended or explained away, and they may have a point.  Still, the show could have presented a little more balance by highlighting that Agag was not exactly an angel, himself.

The portrayal of David is interesting because David, like the Israelites in Mesu Andrews' Miriam, is not all together, spiritually.  His faith in God in the show may turn out to be a journey, something that develops, rather than something that has always come naturally to him.  I am looking forward to seeing how that unfolds!

Leavened and Unleavened Bread in Philo's Special Laws I-II

I have been reading Philo's Special Laws.  Philo was a first century C.E. Jewish exegete in Alexandria, Egypt.  He interpreted the Torah in light of Greek philosophy.  In Special Laws, he attempts to give a rationale for various laws in the Jewish Torah.

I have read Books 1-2 of Philo's Special Laws.  Something that stood out to me there is Philo's contradictory treatment of leavened and unleavened bread in the Torah.  One reason that this stood out to me is my own religious heritage.  I grew up in Armstrongism, which observed the Feast of Unleavened Bread.  We could not eat leavening for the seven days of that Feast, but instead we ate unleavened bread (i.e., matzos, Triscuits, Rye Crisp, Wheat Thins, for a while) during that time.  Pastors waxed eloquent about the alleged symbolism of leavened and unleavened bread.  Leavening represented such negative things as sin and pride, whereas unleavened bread represented humility, sincerity and truth, and Christ.

How is Philo contradictory in his discussions about leavened and unleavened bread?  In one place, he offers a symbolic interpretation of leavened bread that is negative.  In another place, his interpretation of leavened bread is positive.  That could be because the Torah itself is rather ambivalent about leavened bread.

Let's start with the negative interpretation.  In Special Laws I.289-295, Philo is addressing Leviticus 2:11.  To quote Brenton's translation of the Septuagint of that passage (since Philo used the Septuagint): "Ye shall not leaven any sacrifice which ye shall bring to the Lord; for as to any leaven, or any honey, ye shall not bring of it to offer a gift to the Lord."

Philo speculates about why leaven and honey are not allowed to be sacrificed to God.  He proposes that honey is not allowed for sacrifice because bees are unclean and originate from "the putrefaction and corruption of dead oxen" (Yonge's translation).  That sounds like one of those beliefs in abiogenesis that my high school biology textbook tried to refute, in looking back at the naive views of the old days!  Another possibility that Philo proposes is that honey is an example of "superfluous pleasure" (Yonge) that may taste good but that throws the body into turmoil down the road.  This interpretation accords with Philo's asceticism.

On leavened bread, Philo states that it is prohibited for sacrifice because it represents pride, since leaven causes bread to rise.  When people approach God, they should do so with humility.  Philo then makes a beautiful qal va-chomer argument about how we should be humble in our approach to other people: If God, who is superior to us, condescends to show us mercy, how much more should we be humble in our stance towards people who are composed of the same material as us?  Philo, at least in this passage, promotes equality among people.  He does that a lot in Special Laws.  He does not always follow through on the ramifications of this: he still believes that slavery is necessary for society, and that women should be subordinate to men.  Still, he thinks that equality is a good principle, a truth that should be accepted and applied.

While Philo in Special Laws I.289-295 is negative about leaven, he is positive about it in Special Laws II.182-187.  There, Philo is interpreting Leviticus 23:17, which concerns the presentation of firstfruits to God.  To quote Brenton's translation of the Septuagint for that passage: "Ye shall bring from your dwelling loaves, as a heave-offering, two loaves: they shall be of two tenth portions of fine flour, they shall be baked with leaven of the first-fruits to the Lord."

Philo appears to make the enigmatic statement that "the bread is leavened because the law forbids any one to offer unleavened bread upon the altar" (Yonge).  Yonge in a note refers to Mangey, who says that parts of this passage are "corrupt and unintelligible" (Yonge's words).  A problem Mangey had with the passage is that the Torah prohibits the offering of leavened bread, not unleavened bread, on the altar (Exodus 23:18).  The Torah says the opposite of that alleged statement by Philo.  Philo is aware of this, for Philo in Special Laws I.289-295 talks about God's prohibition of offering leavened bread, as we saw.

Philo goes on, though, to explain why the Israelites are to present leavened bread.  It has to do with leaven being quality food.  Philo also associates leaven with joy, abundance, and thanksgiving that God has saved people from scarcity.  An unleavened cracker is not particularly satisfying, but one can get full off of leavened bread!  Moreover, leavening inflates, and we feel inflated when we are joyful.

Philo also talks about leavened and unleavened bread in Special Laws 2.156-161.  There, he is talking about the Feast of Unleavened Bread, and he speculates about why God forbids the Israelites to eat leavening on that day, while having them eat unleavened bread.  Philo lists a variety of reasons:

----The Israelites took unleavened bread with them after leaving Egypt.  This accords with Exodus 12:34, 39, which affirms that the Israelites ate unleavened bread at the Exodus because there was not enough time for the dough to rise.

----The Feast of Unleavened Bread occurs before the harvest.  The crops are not yet ripe and abundant.  Unleavened bread, similarly, is "imperfect or unripe" (Yonge).  In eating unleavened bread, the Israelites are hopefully anticipating the abundance that will come at the harvest. 

----Unleavened bread is closer to nature than leavened bread, which is prepared by human artifice.  For Philo, this is appropriate for the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which he believes commemorates the creation of the world.  Philo believes that this Feast is promoting a simpler time, before people became enamored with pleasure.  He thinks that this Feast encourages a rigid, holy life.  Once more, Philo's asceticism comes into play in his interpretation of the Torah.

Philo's interpretation may strike people as rather arbitrary.  Something to consider, I think, is that Philo is trying to reconcile his asceticism with a Torah that often promotes abundance and enjoying physical blessings.  One can perhaps reconcile Philo's contradictory tendencies by saying that there is a time to rejoice, and a time to weep (a la Ecclesiastes 3:4).  Modern critical scholars struggle with the significance of leavened and unleavened bread in the Torah.  Perhaps what one can get from Philo is that unleavened bread served to add solemnity to occasions, whereas leavened bread coincided with joy and celebration.  (Of course, Philo calls the Feast of Unleavened Bread a time of celebration, yet he thinks that the Unleavened Bread in that case encourages asceticism.)

Wanderlust: The Parable of the Prodigal Son, Star Trek, and Philo

At church this morning, the pastor preached about the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). Earlier in the service, there was a skit about the parable.

The pastor made a point about the parable that overlaps with other themes that I have encountered this week. The themes relate to happiness and struggle.

The pastor was saying that the younger brother of the parable obviously had wanderlust. Granted, the younger brother took that wanderlust in inappropriate directions. Still, his desire to experience new things and to see the world was understandable. In the skit, the younger brother was reading a National Geographic, commenting on how he wanted to see the world. The pastor speculated that the boy’s father may have envied the boy: the father may have wanted to see the world himself, but he could not because he was taking care of the farm.

The pastor also commented on the older son, the one who dutifully stayed behind with his father. The older son was expecting to inherit the farm, and he resented the younger son coming back and being welcomed with open arms. According to the pastor, the older son may have had tunnel-vision because he had not seen the world, as the younger son did.

The pastor said that maybe God has given us wanderlust, since that is what motivates us to explore and to discover. The pastor referred to the astronaut who recently returned to earth.

The pastor said other things about the parable, things that are more conventional in sermons about it. But I am focusing on the wanderlust part because it is a topic that has been in my mind over the last few days.

Last night, I saw an episode of Star Trek entitled “This Side of Paradise.” In this episode, there is a planet where there is radiation killing off life, and yet the people there are alive, healthy, and happy. The reason is that spores from certain flowers are giving them that perfect health and happiness. Spock is hit with the spores, and he gets a feeling of happiness and belonging. He can finally love a woman who loved him six years before.

But Captain Kirk thinks that this state of affairs is unnatural and dangerous. Because people are healthy and happy, they are not progressing. They are not discovering, inventing, learning, and growing. They are not struggling, which is what brings about growth and progress. They do not have wanderlust, for they are perfectly content where they are. Kirk does not think that humans are supposed to be in this state of paradise.

It turns out that extreme negative emotions can counter the soothing effects of the flowers. After Spock is returned to his old self, Spock tells the woman who loved him that everyone has a self-imposed purgatory to endure. At the end of the episode, Spock comments about the time when he was under the influence of the spores. Spock says that this time was the first time in his life when he was happy.

Later, I was reading Philo’s Special Laws II. Philo was a first century Jewish exegete. In Special Laws, Philo gives his opinions about the meaning and significance of the laws of the Torah. Special Laws II focuses on the biblical festivals. The first festival that Philo mentions is every day. Philo says that every day is supposed to be a festival. Every day, we are to find joy by contemplating nature and God.

While the “Side of Paradise” Star Trek episode seemed to place joy at odds with struggle and discovery, Philo believed that they coexist. Contemplating the world and God are part of joy, so Philo does not divorce happiness from learning. Yet, because of how we are and how the world is, we often find that attaining and maintaining joy is a struggle. We have to struggle with our passions and our sinfulness, which undermine our joy. We have to deal with a world where things do not always take place as we want. Echoing Stoicism, Philo advocates lowering one’s expectations so that life’s disappointments are not as hurtful. Philo believes that humans can arrive at a state of happiness, but that, ultimately, God is the only one who is perfectly happy.

Speaking for myself, I can identify with the people on the planet in the Star Trek episode. So what if they never built skyscrapers? They were happy and content. Why did Kirk have to take that away from them? At the same time, I have to admit that discontent and internal desolation do get me off my rear end. They motivate me to learn, to try, to grow, to search. And then sometimes, like Spock, I try to make due with my own self-created purgatory. Ultimately, I land where Philo is: I try to be happy, but I seek a happiness that coincides with learning and growth.

A Comparison of Philo's Special Laws I with the Epistle to the Hebrews

I recently finished Philo's Special Laws I for my daily quiet time.  Yesterday, I moved on to Special Laws II.  Philo was a first century C.E. Jewish thinker in Alexandria, Egypt.  He interpreted the Torah in light of Greek philosophy.

Special Laws I largely focuses on the sacrifices within the Torah.  In going through Special Laws I, I thought about the New Testament Epistle to the Hebrews.  In this post, I would like to draw some informal comparisons between the two.

A.  For Philo, the animal sacrifices are largely symbolic of the way that people should be, spiritually-speaking.  The sacrifice is a symbol for the person offering it.  The sacrifice is to be perfect, and that symbolizes how the person offering it is to be perfect: free from the slavery of human passions and appetites and clearly and rationally seeing God in God's beauty.  The offering of the sacrifice represents the worshiper offering himself to God.  Philo even calls a person's righteousness a mediator between that person and God.  Philo also says more than once that people need to approach God in a state of virtue, free from sinful attitudes (i.e., covetousness). 
 
In the Epistle to the Hebrews, by contrast, the focus is more on how the sacrifices prefigure Christ's cleansing of people.  Christ is the fulfillment of Old Testament sacrifices.  Christ also intercedes for believers as a high priest, one who knows their weaknesses because he himself was a human and was tempted as they are.

At the same time, one cannot take this observation in the direction of saying that Philo supports people saving themselves by their good works, whereas Hebrews is about God in Christ saving people by grace.  Philo acknowledges that God transforms people, which is an act of divine grace.  Philo realizes that even perfect people are not sinless, for nobody is perfect.  Philo states that there are sacrifices that bring about forgiveness of sin.  Philo knows that the high priest is an intercessor for worshipers, and he believes that the high priest is an intercessor, in part, on account of his virtuous life.

Themes like divine grace and forgiveness are not absent from Special Laws I.  It's just that Philo's focus is on how the sacrifices symbolize how human beings should be, spiritually-speaking.  Hebrews, by contrast, like much of Christianity, tends to focus on how humans are sinful and need a perfect sacrifice to bring them acceptance from God.  The sacrifice is not the human being, so much, as it is something perfect that brings salvation to the sinful human being.

And yet, the Epistle to the Hebrews does not limit its understanding of sacrifices to atonement.  Hebrews 13:16 states that doing good and sharing with others are sacrifices to God.  (I should also note that Romans 12:1 exhorts believers to offer themselves as a living sacrifice.  This can remind one of Philo's belief that many of the sacrifices represent people offering themselves to God.)  Hebrews also has ethical exhortations about doing good and avoiding evil, so Hebrews does believe in trying to be virtuous, as Philo does.

B.  The Epistle to the Hebrews has scary passages about apostasy.  According to Hebrews, one can get to the point where one cannot sincerely repent, even if one wants to do so.  One can sin willfully, which is different from sinning out of weakness.  In Hebrews, willful sin after a person has learned the truth results in there being no more sacrifice for sin for that person.

In Special Laws I, I did not see anything about apostasy.  Philo does talk about God's grace transforming people, and that stood out to me after I read John Piper's comments on Hebrews 12:14-17.  Hebrews 12:14-17 states:

14 Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord:
15 Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled;
16 Lest there be any fornicator, or profane person, as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright.
17 For ye know how that afterward, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected: for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.
(KJV)

John Piper states regarding this passage in his article, "Has My Sexual Sin Made Me Unsavable?":

There came a point where God withdrew from Esau. This meant that Esau was so hardened in his heart that even his weeping in search of repentance was phony at the root. He sought repentance with tears and they were fake. They weren’t penitent tears. He couldn’t cry real tears of repentance anymore. His tears were not true. He wanted the blessing. He wanted the safety. He wanted the gifts. He wanted the inheritance. He wanted heaven. But he did not want God. He loved this world. He traded something infinitely valuable for a single meal.

When I read Piper's comments here, I wondered why God could not transform Esau in Esau's state of spiritual helplessness.  That is why Philo's statement about God transforming people stood out to me.

At the same time, near the end of Special Laws I, Philo takes a rather exclusivist stance.  Philo states that certain people should not approach the virtuous God.  Deuteronomy 23 excludes certain people from entering the congregation of the LORD: people with crushed testicles, or those born from fornication.  Philo in Special Laws I interprets this spiritually: God excludes people who are so enamored with their senses and their faculties that they forget God.  That attitude somewhat overlaps with what John Piper says Hebrews is saying about Esau.  The question would still be, however, if Philo believes that there is hope for such people, or if he thinks that one can arrive at a state of spiritual hopelessness.

C.  The Epistle to the Hebrews interacts with the concept of intentional and unintentional sin in the Torah.  In the Torah, there is atonement for sins committed unintentionally, but death for sins committed presumptuously (Leviticus 5; Numbers 15:27-31).  The Epistle to the Hebrews seems to draw from this concept: for the author of Hebrews, there are sins committed from weakness or out of ignorance, and these can be atoned for.  But sins committed willfully, and after a person has learned the truth and been enlightened, may not be atoned for.  See here for a post that I wrote on this topic.

Philo, too, interacts with the concept of intentional and unintentional sins.  Like rabbinic Judaism (Babylonian Talmud Yoma 86b; see here for other references), Philo in Special Laws I holds that repentance can convert an intentional sin into an unintentional sin, making the sin forgivable. 
 
D.  One can conclude that the Epistle to the Hebrews believes that the physical Temple is null and void after the coming of Christ.  After all, why offer sacrifices at the physical Temple, when its sacrifices could not really take away people's sins in the first place, and the fulfillment of those sacrifices, Christ, has come?  Why go to the Temple when Christ's sacrifice brings about forgiveness of sins?

One may wonder, though, if Philo, too, believes that the physical Temple is superfluous.  Philo, after all, thinks that the Temple rituals symbolize the spiritual life: becoming virtuous and seeing God.  If a person can do these things apart from the physical Temple, is the physical Temple actually needed?

Philo in Special Laws I still seems to believe that the physical Temple plays an important role.  He thinks that the virtuous priests intercede for the people.  He also believes that the Israelites offering sacrifices and giving offerings brings physical and material blessing to the Jewish people: they preserve them and help things to go well in their lives.  For Philo in Special Laws I, the physical rituals are important, even if they symbolize something deeper. 

Philo, the Torah, and the Invention of the Cities of Refuge

I have been reading Philo's Special Laws I for my daily quiet time.  Philo of Alexandria was a first century C.E. Jewish thinker in Alexandria, Egypt.  He interpreted the Torah in light of Greek philosophy.

Sometimes when I read ancient interpreters, I wonder if their insights can inform modern biblical scholarship.  I was thinking this when I was reading Philo's comments in Special Laws I:159 about the cities of refuge. 

The cities of refuge were places where a person fled after committing manslaughter (which is unintentional).  There, he would be safe from any avengers of blood who were from the victim's family and wanted to kill him.  These were cities that were given to the Levites for their habitation.  In P, Levites were assistants to the Aaronide priests.  In Deuteronomy, the Levites were priests themselves.  The cities of refuge are discussed in Numbers 35 and Deuteronomy 19.

Philo states the following about the cities of refuge in Special Laws I:159:

"For as it was not consistent with holiness for one who had by any means whatever become the cause of death to any human being to come within the sacred precincts, using the temple as a place of refuge and as an asylum, Moses gave a sort of inferior sanctity to the cities above mentioned, allowing them to give great security, by reason of the privileges and honours conferred upon the inhabitants, who were to be justified in protecting their suppliants if any superior power endeavoured to bring force against them, not by warlike preparations, but by rank, and dignity, and honour, which they had from the laws by reason of the venerable character of the priesthood."  (C.D. Yonge's translation.)

In the ancient world, Temples were often a place of asylum and refuge.  A person could flee there and be safe from apprehension.  We see such a situation in II Kings 2:28.  General Joab supported Adonijah rather than Solomon to become king of Israel.  Solomon becomes king, and Joab is afraid that Solomon will kill him.  Joab, therefore, runs to the sanctuary and clings to the horns of the altar.

Philo, however, seems to have problems with this practice.  For Philo, the Temple or sanctuary is too holy of a place to be a place of refuge, even for someone who took a person's life unintentionally.  That, for Philo, is why there are cities of refuge for people who did that.  The cities of refuge could still be a shadow, in some sense, of the ancient practice of fleeing to a sanctuary for refuge.  After all, the cities of refuge are Levitical cities.  Philo says that these cities have inferior sanctity, which implies that they still have some sanctity.  And Philo believes that their priestly or Levitical association is significant: priests are using their status and position within the community to protect those seeking refuge from assailants.  Under the laws in the Torah about the cities of refuge, people can flee to somewhat holy cities for protection.  But they cannot go to the sanctuary for protection, for the sanctuary is too holy of a place for that.

That's Philo's opinion, but here's a question: Could this be the reason that authors of the Torah came up with the cities of refuge in the first place?  The priestly author wanted to protect the sanctuary from ritual contamination.  Contact with a human corpse was a major source of such contamination (see Leviticus 21; Numbers 19).  Those closest to the sanctuary, the priests, were to be especially insulated from corpse contamination: they were subjected to heavier restrictions on touching a corpse than the average Israelite.  The idea could have been to affirm that God was a God of life, and thus his realm was to be kept separate from death.

Perhaps the authors of the Torah, such as P or H, believed, like Philo, that the sanctuary was too holy of a place for one who committed manslaughter to flee.  Therefore, they invented the cities of refuge.  The cities of refuge were a shadow of the ancient concept, but they were not identical with the ancient concept.  P or H would be transforming the ancient concept to protect the sanctity of the sanctuary.

I think that we may see similar trends in the Torah.  In my post here, I quote a passage from The Able Bodied: Rethinking Disabilities in Biblical Studies, by atheist biblical scholar Hector Avalos, Sarah Melcher, and Jeremy Schipper: "According to Johannes Renger, in ancient Mesopotamia people afflicted with a disease or a disability would often end up working at the temple, because their immediate family could no longer take care of them" (page 81).  In ancient Mesopotamia, people with disabilities or diseases worked at the Temple.  Such a practice would arguably be abhorrent to certain authors of the Torah.  Leviticus 21:17-24 prohibits people with certain disabilities to approach the altar of God, while allowing them to eat the bread of God.

Certain authors of the Torah believed that God's sanctuary needed to be associated with perfection (at least as much as possible).  Due to this conviction, they may have consciously rejected the practice at Mesopotamian Temples of allowing people with disabilities to work there.  Could we be seeing something similar with the cities of refuge: the Torah authors are rejecting the common ancient idea that Temples could be a place of refuge, out of their convictions about the holiness of the sanctuary?

I should be careful, though.  As I talk about in my post here, we do see examples outside of Judaism or ancient Israelite religion of people trying to protect their Temples from corpse contamination.  I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge of ancient rituals.  Plus, maybe the idea that I am shooting around here has already been discussed within biblical scholarship.  It's still a question to ask, though.

Never Again; Philo's Ascetic Preference for Bread; Mentoring on Grocery-Shopping

I have three items for my write-up on this morning's church service.  The first items two relate to things I have recently watched and read.

A.  In the children's part of the service, the pastor was continuing his series on the Lord's prayer.  The pastor was talking about the part of the prayer that says "Give us this day our daily bread."  We pray for God's provision each day.

I was thinking about a movie that I watched last week.  I've been watching the Love Comes Softly movies on Trinity Broadcasting Network.  In the movie Love's Abiding Joy, there is a land baron named Samuel Doros, who is taking people's land.  Doros tells the story of when he was a poor child and was continuously hungry.  He could find food in those days, but he could never enjoy it because he would be wondering where his next meal would come from.

You would think that such an experience would make him more compassionate towards those who are struggling, as opposed to trying to take their land.  But the experience did the opposite to him: it made him so bitter about life and insecure that he tried to eek out from people whatever money he could.

B.  The pastor was noting that Jesus told his disciples to ask God for bread, not cake.  I am not sure why the pastor was making that point.  He did say that bread is healthier.  In the sermon, he talked about his own recent struggles with dieting.

I've been reading Philo of Alexandria's Special Laws for my daily quiet time.  Philo of Alexandria was a first century C.E. Jewish thinker in Alexandria, Egypt.  He interpreted the Torah in light of Greek philosophy.  In Special Laws, he tries to explain the laws of the Torah.  Mostly, he seeks practical reasons for the laws being as they are.  There are times, though, when he seeks an allegorical explanation.  Special Laws is different from his esoteric works, in which his primary focus is on allegorizing the Torah.

In Special Laws I, Philo is talking about the sacrifices.  In I: 171-174, he is explaining why there are loaves of bread in the sanctuary.  One of his answers is that bread is simple.  He contrasts bread with "high seasonings, and cheesecakes, and sweetmeats" (C.D. Yonge's tradition).  Philo has a negative attitude towards the latter.

Philo is rather ascetic.  Heaven forbid that people want to gratify their fleshly tastes!  Their mind should be on higher things!  What is ironic, though, is that Philo does talk about God blessing people with abundance when they obey God.  And he talks about abundant celebrations, which occur at Jewish festivals.  Philo is ascetic, but he has to deal with that stress on abundance in the Torah.

C.  Someone from the local food bank spoke to us.  She told us stories about people who lost their jobs and had difficulty finding work.  In some cases, they have children.  There was also an elderly couple that was raising their grandchildren, and that was going into their retirement fund.  The husband was a truck driver, but he could no longer drive as many miles on account of his age.  They are benefiting from the food bank.

The lady was also telling us that the food bank offers lessons on nutrition and how to shop for food economically.  That may initially sound patronizing and condescending, but, believe me, such mentoring is good.  She said that the food bank does this so that people are not intimidated when they go shopping for groceries.  I can understand that being intimidating.  Stores have so many options.  A person may want to know how to get more for his or her money.  There's also the issue of buying food that can make a person full: whole wheat bread may be more expensive, but it will make a person more full after eating it than white bread (that's my insight, not what the speaker said).

The Sons of God of Genesis 6, in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan”

In Genesis 6:1-4, the sons of God see that the daughters of men are beautiful.  The sons of God then take wives from the daughters of men.  V 4 states that, when this happened, there  were Nephilim—-often translated as “giants.”  These Nephilim were mighty and renowned.

Who were the sons of God in Genesis 6:1-4?  Who were the daughters of men?  Some say that the sons of God were angels or deities, and that the daughters of men were human females.  Another view is that the sons of God were descendants of Seth, a righteous son of Adam, whereas the daughters of men were descendants of Cain, Adam’s wicked son.

The fifth-ninth century C.E. Christian document, “The Conflict of Adam of Eve with Satan,” appears to go with the latter view: that Genesis 6:1-4 is about the Sethites intermarrying with the Cainites.

In “Conflict,” the Sethites are on a mountain, whereas the Cainites are on the low ground.  The Sethites are not supposed to go down from the mountain to be with the Cainites, lest the Cainites corrupt the Sethites.  Satan tries to get the Sethites to descend.  He and his angels appear as Adam and other past figures and lead the Sethites to the low ground. There, the Sethites are tempted by the sights.  Satan instigates the Cainites to invent enticing music that inflames lust: that reminds me of Rock and Roll, or what some fundamentalist pastors have said about it!

“The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” calls the Sethites children of God (II.11. 4; 20.27).  This is on account of their purity and their worship of God.  They are also called angels (II.20.15).  This is because, in worshiping God, they are replacements for the angels who fell with Satan.

In II.20, the Sethites see that the daughters of Cain are beautiful and descend the mountain, even though righteous Enoch warns them that, in doing so, they will cease being children of God and will become children of the devil.

“The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” does not say that the intermarriage results in giants.  Still, it is most likely interpreting Genesis 6:1-4, for it talks about children of God seeing beautiful women and intermarrying with them.  By saying that the Sethites were angels, could “Conflict” be responding, in some manner, to the view that the sons of God of Genesis 6:1-4 were angels?  Its point, in that scenario, would be that the sons of God were angels, but not in the sense that the angelic interpretation assumed.  The Sethites, because they worshiped God, were functionally angels, even though they were human.

I am hesitant to refer to wikipedia, but its article on the Nephilim contains leads on who interpreted the sons of God as Sethites within Judaism and Christianity.  Such an interpretation probably resonated with the writer of “Conflict” because he was ascetic.  Adam and Eve fast for long periods of time, and sex is practically treated as a necessary evil in “Conflict.”  The writer of “Conflict” may have wanted his Christian community to stay away from a world that he considered corrupt, a world symbolized by the Cainites on the low ground.

God in “Conflict” is often merciful and patient with Adam, Eve, and Cain, staying with them even though they make mistakes.  The Sethites are not to exercise that same patience towards the Cainites, however, probably because the Cainites are believed to be too far gone.  The Cainites would corrupt the Sethites, rather than the Sethites having a positive influence on the Cainites!

Why Did God Reject Cain’s Offering in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan”?

I finished “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” not long ago.  This is a Christian work that dates anywhere from the fifth century C.E. to the ninth century C.E.  It was written originally in Arabic and was translated into Ethiopic.

In this post, I will highlight how this work addresses a question: Why did God in Genesis 4 accepts Abel and Abel’s sacrifice but not Cain and Cain’s offering?

The answer to this question that I heard when I saw the story of Cain and Abel on Superbook as a kid was that Cain had a bad attitude.  Cain did not give God the best, whereas Abel did.

In high school, I read an alternative explanation.  This was in a book by E.W. Bullinger entitled The Great Cloud of Witnesses, which was about the exemplars of faith in Hebrews 11.  According to Bullinger, what differentiated Abel’s offering from Cain’s offering was not attitude, so much, but rather the nature of the sacrifice.  Abel offered an animal sacrifice, whereas Cain offered fruit from the ground.  Animal sacrifices atoned for sin because they were blood sacrifices, and without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin (Hebrews 9:22).  Fruit sacrifices, by contrast, not only did not atone for sin, but they were also from ground that God had cursed (Genesis 3:17).  For Bullinger, the lesson of the Cain and Abel story was that we should trust the blood of Christ for salvation, rather than our own cursed works.

I have heard Bullinger’s interpretation in other settings.  When I was in college, I visited a conservative Baptist church.  The pastor there was criticizing the view that God rejected Cain’s offering because Cain had a bad attitude, treating it practically as a deception from Satan!  The pastor believed that God rejected Cain’s offering because it was not a blood sacrifice, the only kind that would atone for sin.  The pastor took the opportunity to invite us to trust in the blood of Christ for salvation.  Otherwise, God will reject us and our flawed attempts to win God’s favor.

I lean in the direction of saying that Cain’s sacrifice was rejected on account of Cain’s bad attitude.  Genesis 4:4-5 says that Cain brought from the fruits of his ground, and that Abel brought the firstlings of his flock and the fat.  The implication seems to be that Abel brought his best for God, whereas Cain did not.
Where does “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” land on this question?  Its telling of the story is in Book I, chapters 76-78.

“The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” leans in the direction of saying that God rejected Cain and Cain’s sacrifice on account of Cain’s bad attitude.  Cain did not value or enjoy the worship of God.  Abel regularly went with his parents to worship God, but Cain often did not go.  When Cain did offer a sheep to God, it was the smallest sheep that he could find.  Cain was eyeing the sheep when he was sacrificing it, as if he did not want to give it up.  Cain had a murderous attitude towards his brother Abel.  Cain feared that his parents loved Abel more than him and that they would give his beautiful sister to Abel in marriage, and Satan was encouraging those thoughts.  When Abel and Cain both brought offerings, Cain threw Abel away from the altar, offered his own sacrifice, and cried out to God to accept it.  But God did not send God’s divine fire from heaven to accept Cain’s offering.  God considered Cain proud and (for some reason) fraudulent.

Abel, by contrast, enjoyed the worship of God and was guileless and meek.

There are two things to note, which are relevant to Bullinger’s interpretation.

First of all, “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” does not make a big deal about Abel offering an animal and Cain offering fruit.  In fact, that is not even necessarily the case.  Cain offers an animal on a couple of occasions.  And Adam instructs Abel to offer corn.

Why “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” says this, when Genesis 4 is clear that Cain offered fruit from the ground and Abel offered from his flock, is unclear to me.  There does seem to be a loose understanding of “fruit” in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan,” Book I, chapter 77.  There,  Adam instructs Cain to take from the fruit of his sowings and offer it to God, and Cain in that chapter offers an animal.  That does not solve everything, however.  Genesis 4:2 says that Abel was a keeper of sheep, whereas Cain was a tiller of the ground, so it makes sense that Abel would offer a sheep while Cain would offer fruit.  As far as I can remember, “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” does not differentiate between the occupations of Cain and Abel.  Was “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” relying on oral traditions rather than the biblical text itself?

(UPDATE: This article states: “It is remarkable that in this legend the offerings of Cain and Abel have been reversed.  Contrary to what the Scriptures say, in this tale it is Cain who offers animal sacrifices and Abel who offers grains and vegetables.  It is possible that this alteration reflects a bowdlerisation of the biblical narrative by an Encratic Christian heretic who rejected the killing and eating of animals, perhaps due to a ‘Manichaean’ rejection of created matter.”  I am unfamiliar with this author and I do not know his credentials, though I do know Doug Ward, whose publication the article was in.  I am not equipped presently to evaluate his statement, but I may revisit it in the future.)

Second, there does seem to be an assumption in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” that Cain and Abel are offering sacrifices to atone for sin.  It was not the case that Abel’s sacrifice had an atoning function, whereas Cain’s did not.  In chapter 77, Adam tells both Cain and Abel to offer fruit to atone for their sins and wickedness.  Adam notices that Cain hates his brother, and Adam hopes that their offering of sacrifices to God will soften their hearts.  Cain’s offering in this retelling probably did not successfully atone for Cain’s sin because God rejected it on account of Cain’s attitude.

While God does detest Cain in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan,” God still shows Cain mercy after Cain kills Abel.  That is a theme that runs throughout “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan”: God’s mercy and patience with people, notwithstanding the wrong things that they do.