The Anonymous God and the Separation of Church and State

For my write-up today on Circle of Life: Traditional Teachings of Native American Elders, I'll use as my starting-point something that James David Audlin says on page 134:

"When the chiefs of the Hodenasaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) responded to the 'Founding Fathers'' request for advice, they said the newcomers' idea of freedom of religion was just fine but the idea of separation of church and state would only lead to difficulty.  For the original peoples, no such separation is possible.  The individual or nation is always at the center of all things and the Creator; this attitude helps these people to see all things as living, sacred and filled with the presence of G-d, and all Creation as numinous."

I enjoyed Audlin's discussion of how certain Native American tribes view the Creator: that the Creator is a parent of creation and communicates to people through visions, dreams, and nature (i.e., we learn about God's omniscience from the eagle, which soars the highest and sees the farthest, and we learn about wisdom and devotion to family from the bear).

Can one believe that God is present in all of life, while still being committed to the separation of church from state?  I believe so, in a sense.  Joseph did not try to cram the worship of the Israelite God down the Egyptians' throats, but he still represented God by ruling justly and wisely.  God is not even mentioned in the Book of Esther, and yet God still appears to be present.  A pastor once told me that the lesson of the absence of God's name from the Book of Esther is that you don't have to explicitly mention God to represent him, for you can represent God by being a loving person or a good worker, and God can be at work, even when God's name is absent.

But wouldn't it be better to mention God explicitly than to beat around the bush?  When God is not explicitly mentioned and people are simply doing good deeds, why would anyone's mind turn to God?  It's like people's knowledge of God is incomplete: they see good deeds, but they are not told about the God who is the author of those good deeds and exemplifies them.  They are looking at God through a veil.  Consequently, I can sympathize somewhat with the Native Americans whom Audlin discusses: Why not just cut to the chase and allow the authorities to explicitly honor God, without feeling a need to keep religion separate from official society?

That may work in a Native American tribe, where there is probably consensus about religion (or such is my impression).  In the early days of America, however, that was not the case, at least not as much.  Granted, most white Americans were Christians, but there were different denominations, and there were certain Founding Fathers who would most likely fail the tests of Christian orthodoxy or orthopraxy.  The roots of white America were in Europe, which had experienced a number of bloody religious wars, and there emerged a belief that, for the peace of society and out of respect for people's consciences, the government should be neutral about religion, and people should be free to practice whatever religion they wish.  Was the United States consistent on this?  Not really.  There was still a national (and sometimes even official) respect for the Christian religion, and Thomas Jefferson supported state money going to missionaries to the Native Americans.  The religious right is not always pulling its narrative out of the clear blue sky!  But there was still some fear in the early days of the United States that the government, by embracing a religion, would seek to shove that religion down people's throats and thereby violate people's consciences.  That's why James Madison opposed Congress having a chaplain, and it may have been why John Quincy Adams swore on a law-book rather than the Bible.

In a society that has different religions and belief-systems, perhaps separation of church and state is the way to go.  But that does not bracket God from the government, for God still exists, as do God's principles of love, compassion, justice, mercy, and wisdom.  When it comes to the state and state-funded entities, God in the United States may need to be represented anonymously: leaders can stand for God's principles, and they as individuals can pray to God for his blessing and guidance of America, but they cannot try to impose Christianity on people. 

Goldman's Chapter on Hinduism

For my write-up today on Ari Goldman's The Search for God at Harvard, I'll talk some about Goldman's chapter on Hinduism.

Goldman opens this chapter with a conversation between a Hindu teacher and his pupil.  The pupil repeatedly asks how many gods there are, and the teacher first responds with 3,306, then 33, then 1 and 1/2, and finally one.  Goldman did not then do what I expected him to do----to say that Hinduism believes that the millions of gods are manifestations of one god (which I have heard, but I do not know if that's true or not).  Rather, Goldman proceeds to contrast Hindu pluralism ("the question of God...can be seen from different valid angles", Goldman on page 80) with the Western preoccupation with finding one truth, and to say that Hinduism believes that "Reality...far exceeds what we can ever imagine or express" (page 80).  Goldman then characterizes Hinduism as henotheistic, which means worshiping one god at a time.  According to henotheism, there is more than one god out there, but you pick one to worship, and you then treat that one as the only god (or goddess).  Goldman tells the story of Vishnu and Brahma arguing over who was the "ultimate Creator" (page 81).  Each then enters the body of the other to understand the other's point-of-view, they gain a new perspective and honor each other as creator, and the fiery god Shiva consumes them.  Goldman says that many Hindu tales don't make much sense to him, and I'd say the same thing in describing my own reaction, as a Westerner----for, after all, how can both gods be the ultimate creator?  But, like Goldman, I still find the tale to be intriguing.

Later in the chapter, Goldman talks about two Harvard Divinity School students who were interested in Hinduism.  One was a Jew named Gary, who was interested in parallels and "theological and historic links" between Hinduism and post-biblical, pre-Christian Judaism.  Goldman does not go into much detail on this, but he does say that Gary showed him that Krishna is mentioned in the Book of Esther.  The text is probably Esther 1:14, which mentions Carshena as one of the seven princes who advised King Ahasuerus of Persia.  (So was Krishna a human being before he was divinized, according to this view?)  The other was a lady with a United Church of Christ background, Diane.  Goldman did not talk much about her interaction with Hinduism, but rather her spiritual journey and her wrestling with whether or not she should become a minister.

Gary and Diane are gay, and, according to Goldman, they liked Harvard Divinity School because that was one of the few seminaries where being gay was considered all right.  As Goldman says on page 85: "At most seminaries, being homosexual is a cardinal sin; at the Div School, the cardinal sin is being homophobic----that is, discriminating in any way against homosexuals."  I found that to be true when I was there.  On the one hand, I still see (in retrospect) the atmosphere of Harvard Divinity School on that issue to have been rather intolerant towards those who regarded homosexual conduct as a sin.  On the other hand, I can somewhat understand the desire of the homosexual students there to be at a place where they could be who they are and not be judged.  Could there be an atmosphere that draws from the best of both worlds: people just being tolerant of those who choose to believe and live differently from them?

Jesus and Elisha Disregard the Firstfruits Law? Esther Violates the Passover?

In my latest reading of John's Gospel: The Way It Happened, Lee Harmon makes an interesting point about the story of Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fishes in John 6.  According to Lee, Jesus and the people were eating loaves that were illegal for them to eat!

On what basis does Lee argue this?  In Leviticus 23:10-22, we see the law of the firstfruits.  On the day after some Sabbath that was soon after the Passover (Second Temple Jews debated which Sabbath it was), Israelites were to bring a sheaf of their harvest-firstfruits to the central sanctuary, and the priest would then wave that sheaf before the LORD.  Leviticus 23:14 states (in the King James Version): "And ye shall eat neither bread, nor parched corn, nor green ears, until the selfsame day that ye have brought an offering unto your God: it shall be a statute for ever throughout your generations in all your dwellings."  The wavesheaf ritual was associated with the barley harvest.  Before the wavesheaf ritual that took place soon after the Passover, the Israelites could eat neither corn nor bread from the barley that they had just harvested.

In John 6, there is the Johannine story of Jesus multiplying the loaves.  There are two things in John 6 that are noteworthy, in light of the law in Leviticus 23:10-22.  First, John 6:13 says that the loaves were barley loaves.  And second, John 6:4 says that the Passover was near, which means that John 6 is set soon before the Passover, not soon after it.  Jesus and the Jews in John 6 are arguably eating bread that's made of barley from the recent harvest, before the possessor of that barley has presented the firstfruits to God.  That, according to Leviticus 23:14, is a no-no.

According to Lee, how could Jesus justify doing something that was against the Torah?  Lee offers two answers, as far as I can see.  First, on page 117, Lee says that Jesus was teaching about a new age.  The idea here is probably that the old law does not entirely apply now that Jesus has come and inaugurated something new.

Second, on page 118, Lee presents Jesus appealing to the story in II Kings 4:42-44, in which the prophet Elisha multiplies loaves for a hundred people.  II Kings 4:42 states (again, in the KJV): "And there came a man from Baalshalisha, and brought the man of God bread of the firstfruits, twenty loaves of barley, and full ears of corn in the husk thereof."  Lee's idea appears to be this: Rather than taking the firstfruits to God, as he was supposed to do, the man was using them as food for himself, Elisha, and a multitude.  And Elisha did not condemn the man for failing to present his firstfruits before God, but rather he proceeded to multiply the food.

I heard a similar idea in an adult ed class that I took on the Book of Esther.  In Esther 3:12, we read that the King of Persia's scribes on the thirteenth day of the first month (which is identified as Nisan in v 7) write the decree about the extermination of the Jews.  In Esther 4, Esther proclaims a fast for three days for the Jews in Shushan.  Remember that the Passover is on the fourteenth day of the first month, Nisan (Exodus 12).  On the Passover, the Israelites are to eat unleavened bread and bitter herbs.  Was Esther telling Jews to fast on a day on which the Torah commanded them to eat?  Was she disregarding the Torah?

I suppose that one can ask a lot of questions about these scenarios.  How do we know that the barley loaves in John 6 were from freshly harvested barley, rather than from barley from the previous year?  Was the man in I Kings 4:42-44 required to offer all of his firstfruits to God, when Exodus 23:19 commands the Israelites to bring the first of their firstfruits?  Can we really say for sure that the Jews in Shoshan fasted during the Passover and the Days of Unleavened Bread, since perhaps it took quite some time for the decree to be promulgated after it was written down on the thirteenth of Nisan?  But, come to think of it, Esther would probably hear about the decree pretty fast, since, as queen, she lived in the capitol city.

Was Jesus consciously disobeying the Torah when he multiplied the barley loaves?  I vaguely recall reading in John Meier's The Marginal Jew that Jesus was not violating laws out of a conscious need to proclaim their nullification, but rather certain laws did not enter into his mind.  (I'm open to correction on this, as it has been a while since I read Meier.)  At the same time, there were occasions when Jesus put well being above ritual, even in John's Gospel.  Could that be going on in John 6?  After all, perhaps there is some reason that John 6 specifies that the Passover was near, which means that the firstfruits had not been offered yet.

Hermeneutical Questions After Last Night's Bible Study

My church started its Fall Bible study yesterday.  We're going through A Fragile Stone, Peter: Jesus' Friend. 

I'm having a hard time writing today.  Maybe it's because I'm tired after seeing Barack Obama do so poorly in last night's debate.  I myself feel rather listless right now.  And, when that is the case, trying to say everything exactly right becomes a challenge.  So I'll grant myself some leeway in this post and just write what comes to my mind, whether or not it makes sense or is completely fair and accurate.  It will probably be like Painter Smurf splashing paint on his canvas and calling that art!

I've been having positive thoughts about Jesus lately.  One reason is that I listened to that Mark Driscoll sermon on Esther a few days ago----in which Driscoll presents Jesus as a benevolent king----and I was drawn to that picture of Jesus.  Then, last night at Bible study, I was thumbing through our course book, and there was a part of it in which Michael Card (who is the author, sort of) is said to have stated on the DVD that he feels more drawn to worship Jesus when he reads that Jesus served his disciples breakfast, than he'd feel if Jesus were surrounded by a host of angels.  That's pretty powerful, isn't it?  Jesus the servant.  It's an elementary concept, but one that I'm happy to be reminded of as I go through this Bible study.

It's tempting to embrace some form of emotional evangelicalism----one that accepts without ambiguity that Jesus was the Messiah and that the Hebrew Bible points to him, one that views the Bible as without error, one that seeks to harmonize biblical contradictions, etc.  As I was thinking about this last night, my mind wandered to how evangelical preachers I heard tried to explain the difference between a guilt offering and a sin offering in the Book of Leviticus.  I don't remember exactly what they said, but I remembered that, when I first heard their explanation, it sounded to me like a stretch----that it wasn't based on anything explicit in the text itself.  I wondered if embracing an emotional evangelicalism would essentially require me to check my brain at the door----to disregard that the writings of the Hebrew Bible are diverse and reflect their historical contexts, in many cases overlapping with ancient Near Eastern culture.  But then I thought about the importance of sticking with the text.  I don't have to try to reconcile the text with some faith conviction about it.  I should just let the text be the text.  But that is emotionally drier than inhabiting the world of emotional evangelicalism.

But then here's where things get tricky.  The text often is not explicit.  We were sensitized to that last night at Bible study.  The curriculum was asking us how we thought Peter felt when such-and-such happened.  The fact is, however, that we're not told how Peter felt.  I'd say it's fun to speculate, but one lady in the group seemed to think that it was idle to speculate about what we're not told explicitly.

But, in many cases, we almost have to speculate to get anywhere with the text, or to do anything with it.  For example, after Jesus in Luke 5 performed a miracle in which Peter caught a whole bunch of fish, Peter asked Jesus to depart from him, for Peter was a sinful man.  Why?  We're not told explicitly.  And so we went through different possibilities.  Michael Card's explanation was rather elliptical: he said that Peter was afraid of unlimited success, and so Jesus responded to that concern by telling Peter that Peter would be a fisher of men.  Say what?  Was Card suggesting that Peter feared that success would corrupt him----perhaps make him proud----and so Jesus was proposing service as a solution to that?  I'm not sure.  Someone in the group made the suggestion that Peter was afraid of having access to that much power, for Peter feared that he would misuse it.  And the curriculum also suggested that Peter felt grossly inadequate in the face of the divine----and I'd say that this does not necessarily mean that Peter at that moment regarded Jesus as God, but Peter could have recognized that Jesus was part of the work of God, and Peter was in the presence of that when Jesus did the miracle.  I thought that the group's speculation over this question was rather fruitful.  It's good to have ambiguity, because that makes discussions possible.   But it was speculation.  And yet, I'd say that there are some speculations that are better than others.  For example, saying that Peter felt inadequate in the face of the divine makes sense, for there are plenty of times in the Hebrew Bible in which people feel inadequate before the divine.  Luke could be drawing from that motif.

Here's an area in which my warm feelings about Jesus conflicted with my scholarly reading of the text: We were asked in the curriculum if we were willing to die to self and take up our cross and follow Jesus.  I checked that passage, and it was talking about martyrdom, then there followed the passage in which Jesus told his disciples that some standing there wouldn't taste death until they saw the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.  First of all, I wondered how that text could even be applicable to us, since we're not in danger of martyrdom----at least not where we are sitting (and I'm talking about those of us in that group, and probably most Christians in the United States).  But I did not ask that question out loud.  Second, I was reminded of the whole problem of imminent eschatology----Jesus appears to predict that the end was near, but the problem with that is that it's two thousand years later, and world paradise still has not come.  And third, I was reminded that, yes, there is the nice, warm Jesus in the Gospels, and yet there's also the fierce apocalyptic Jesus, who somewhat scares me.  Can I get over my aversions to Jesus in the synoptic Gospels?
In any case, this will probably be a thought-provoking study.  We'll see how it turns out!

Mark Driscoll, Rachel Held Evans, and Skyler-Daniel on Esther

I just listened to a Mark Driscoll sermon, and, much to my surprise, I actually liked it.  That doesn't mean that I agreed with everything that he said or how he said it, but overall, I found it encouraging, for he was presenting Jesus as a loving king, and God as one who walks with us, even when we are not walking with him.  Driscoll also projected an attitude of humility, as he admitted that there were areas in which he couldn't be dogmatic on account of the lack of explicit details in the Book of Esther, and as he also acknowledged that he himself had moral flaws, just like all of us.  Click here to listen to the sermon.

The sermon is part of Driscoll's series on the Book of Esther.  I learned about it from a post on Rachel Held Evans' site, where she links to it (see here) and offers her critique and evaluation.  As I read Rachel's characterization of what Driscoll said in that sermon, I was angry at Driscoll, for I thought that he was being the judgmental, authoritarian jerk I believed him to be (based on things I have read and heard from him and others----not personally, but through online sources such as YouTube, Driscoll's web-site, people who once went to Driscoll's church, etc.).  I was thinking of writing an anti-Driscoll post, but I decided to listen to his sermon so that my criticisms could be fair.  But, to my surprised, my reaction was not entirely negative. 

In his sermon, Driscoll portrayed Esther as worldly and hypocritical because she did not refuse to enter Xerxes' harem, she ate unclean foods in violation of the Torah, she and Mordechai were not among the returnees to Jerusalem (thereby violating God's command through Isaiah for the Jews to go back to Israel), and she (like Mordechai) had a pagan name and concealed her Jewish identity.  But Rachel's response was that Esther and Mordechai were not able to refuse Xerxes' command because they'd be killed if they did so, and also that Esther displayed piety when she called for a fast.
 
Who is right?  To his credit, Driscoll used arguments to justify his position that Esther and Mordecai could have said no to the king.  He said that there are other characters in the Bible who say no to the king.  Sometimes, they're arrested, and sometimes they're not.  But saying no to a king is not unheard of in the Bible.  Driscoll also noted that, in the Book of Esther itself, Vashti said no to the king and was merely expelled from his presence, not killed. 

Driscoll's point that Esther and Mordecai compromised with their foreign surroundings and should have returned to the land of Israel is understandable, at least from the standpoint of how he as a conservative Christian sees the Bible.  In the Bible that is before us, God in Second Isaiah exhorted the exiled Israelites to return to their land, a lot of Israelites stayed behind in exile, and thus (when you juxtapose these things together) the Israelites who stayed behind were disobeying the will of God.  From a historical-critical standpoint, I have doubts that the situation was that simple.  How easy was it in those days to uproot oneself and one's family and go to a faraway land, especially when (in the case of Esther) we're talking about some time after Cyrus' decree of return?  And, just because a prophet was proclaiming what he thought was God's will, that doesn't mean that everyone was on the same page and regarded his words as what God wanted.  But Driscoll does well to highlight that the issue of assimilation was pressing in the Diaspora, and a number of scholars have maintained that most Jews stayed behind in exile because they had prospered there and made lives for themselves.  If Driscoll wants to make that into a sermon point for a conservative Christian audience, then that's understandable.  I don't fault him for that.

But I can also see Rachel's point.  Granted, Esther and Mordechai could have refused the king's command, but what good would they have done to themselves or others if the king executed them for that?  There are times to take bold moral stands, and there are times when it's not worth it at a given time, and it's perhaps more prudent to wait for another day.  After I listened to Driscoll, I read through the comments under Rachel's post, and I especially appreciated the comment by Skyler-Daniel, which took into consideration Driscoll's points, yet took them in a different direction.  Skyler-Daniel said:

"Esther, in my mind, is a story about compromise and negotiating religious boundaries. This is why folks like Mark Driscoll simply cannot read it without screwing up the story fundamentally--compromise is a dirty word, especially if it[']s a woman. In a sense, Esther is a terrible Jew... she doesn't pray, hides her religious identity, and marries a Gentile... she does nothing to separate herself as a Jew. But the story shows how...the complicated situation in which she (and story's Jewish audience) found herself...necessitates compromise and a careful shifting of religious values for the greater good.  Which is more important? Not eating kosher meat or saving hundreds of thousands of Jews? Esther is our heroine who shows us a way in a messy world!"

In any case, I found it edifying to think about the story of Esther today, as I read and heard a variety of perspectives.

Solomon vs. Ruth, or Maybe Esther

Joe Biden reminds me of Solomon, whereas I associate Sarah Palin with Ruth, or maybe Esther. Let me explain.

I realize that comparing Joe Biden to Solomon is problematic, since Biden doesn't always think before he speaks, violating several Solomonic proverbs. But he's reflective, like the Solomon we encounter in Ecclesiastes. I can think of two examples: in last night's debate, he told how he learned not to judge others when he discovered that his political enemy, Jesse Helms, had adopted a boy with cerebral palsy. And, in the Katie Couric interview, he talked about his favorite movie, Chariots of Fire, which inspired him to stand by his convictions, whatever the consequences.

I identified with Biden there, since I'm somewhat of an introspective introvert. I saw a lot of depth as he discussed his own personal growth.

Palin, by contrast, strikes me more as a "just do it" sort of girl. What I'm learning from my weekly quiet time is that Ruth didn't spend a lot of time contemplating her navel. She saw that her family was hungry, so she went out to the fields to glean some barley. She took action. She was also big on relationships, since she stuck with Naomi no matter what. And that's what I get from Palin: she doesn't talk much about personal growth, but about relationships and getting the job done.

She also reminds me somewhat of Esther. Esther was rather passive at first, in that she basically did whatever Mordecai told her. But when she got her own voice, watch out! She wanted to kill everyone who sought to slaughter her people. That's why Martin Luther thought the book was so bloodthirsty!

Sarah Palin, similarly, strikes me as someone who cares about the well-being of the people. At times, she's rather passive and has to be coached on what to say. But when she gets her own voice, watch out! She can wow people. She'll even fire those she thinks she can't work with.

Of course, some may also say that Palin is like Ruth and Esther because she tries to manipulate people to get what she wants--through her folksy charm, her winks, her "gonna" and "gotcha," her beauty. Ruth used a strategy to get Boaz to marry her, and Esther came up with her plan to save the Jewish people. But whether people acknowledge this similarity will depend on if they like Sarah Palin.