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2. Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume II: Ante-Nicene Christianity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1910) 727.
"Tatian of Assyria (110-172)...denied that Adam was saved, because Adam says: 'We all die in Adam.'"
When I was at Harvard, I heard a lecture by Jon Levenson on "Did God Forgive Adam." (My mom did too, since she was visiting me at the time.) Levenson said many of the same things when I took his Jewish Liturgical Year class. I don't remember all of the sources Levenson used, but I remember him quoting rabbinic writings in which God forgives Adam's transgression.
In Christianity, however, the answer to this question is mixed. In Romans 5:12ff., Paul says that there was death and condemnation before the coming of Christ. Since Christ, Paul says, there is grace and justification for many. For Levenson, Paul is saying here that there was no forgiveness of sin before Christ came. Levenson could understand why there are Christians who see the God of the Old Testament as angry and condemning, whereas the God of the New Testament is loving, gracious, and kind.
Levenson acknowledges that Paul is not entirely consistent on this issue. After all, Paul affirms in Romans 4 that Abraham was justified by faith, meaning he was not under God's condemnation. And there are Christians who handle this issue by saying that the saints of the Old Testament believed in the Christ to come. Jesus says in John 8:56, after all, that Abraham rejoiced to see Christ's day.
But were pre-Christ times the same as post-Christ times? Levenson once asked, "If God was merciful and kind and gracious, and you heard on the radio, 'Today, God has decided to be merciful and kind and gracious, what would be the big deal?'" He has a point there. What exactly did Christ contribute that was new?
According to Paul, Israel in the Old Testament was under the tutelage of the law (Romans 3:24ff.)--either to convict her of sin, or to restrain her sin and keep her in line, or to foreshadow Christ. Now that Christ has come, Israel isn't under a tutor. As Paul says in Romans 7:6, "we are slaves not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit" (NRSV). So that would be a difference between the Old and the New Testaments.
But Paul saw the law in terms of condemnation. He calls the law a ministry of condemnation (II Corinthians 3:9). He disputes in Romans 8 that carnal human beings are even able to obey the law of God, since their flesh is weak. Is that what the Old Testament presents? II Kings 22:2 states that "He did what was right in the sight of the LORD, and walked in all the way of his father David; he did not turn aside to the right or to the left." Christians will say that Josiah kept the law because he had the Holy Spirit, since David asks God not to take God's spirit from him (Psalm 51:11). If so, then my question stands: What was the difference between the Old and the New Testaments? What did Jesus bring that was new?
Another point: even after Jesus has come, the condemnation of the Fall continues to dog us. People still die. Women still have pain in childbirth. Women also bear somewhat of a second-class stigma on account of what Eve did, for I Timothy 2:11-14 states: "Let a woman learn in silence with full submission. I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent. For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor."
But some of Jesus' work is delayed, since he'll make everything right once he comes back. But the Jews before Jesus believed God and the Messiah would eventually do this. Again, what did Christianity bring that was so different?
The answer is probably "Jesus." He's the key that unlocks all of God's promises. Still, I wonder how Paul can portray the Old Testament as a time of condemnation, when it wasn't entirely. God forgave in Old Testament times, too.
3. "The Nature and Character of God and His Relations with Man," A Rabbinic Anthology, ed. C.G. Montefiore and H. Loewe (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1938) 61.
"'My salvation is near to come' (Isa. LVI, 1). 'My salvation', not 'your salvation': if the word had not been written, it would have been impossible to say it. But God says to Israel, 'If you have no merit, I do it for my own sake', as if He said, 'All the days that you are in distress, I am with you' [i.e. I too am in distress], even as it is said, 'I am with him in distress' (Ps. XCI, 15), and as it is said, 'Behold, thy king comes to thee; he is righteous and 'saved'' (Zech. IX, 9), for the word is not 'saving', but 'saved'. Even if there are no works in your hands, God does it for His own sake...(Exod. R., Mishpatim, XXX, 24.)"
According to this passage, God is "saved" in the sense that he suffers with Israel and benefits when he delivers her. After all, God delivers Israel for God's sake, not sinful Israel's sake.
This is an example of God showing Israel grace when Israel doesn't deserve it. Felix said under my post, Study, Martyrdom, Humble God, that Judaism believes in a God of grace, and this is an example of that. But I wonder if Judaism's God shows grace to everyone. Rabbinic writings act as if God bends over backwards for Israel. There's a passage that says all of Israel has a place in the world to come, except for a few very bad people (e.g., heretics). I remember reading a passage in Levenson's class affirming that all Israelites need each other, both the ones who do good works, and the ones who do not. But I'm not so sure if the God of Judaism is this way towards Gentiles. Rather, he expects them to repent and do good. God is willing to show undeserved favor to his chosen people, but others are not so lucky.
At the same time, I read a passage today that said God doesn't treat the world with strict justice, and that means all of the world, Jews and Gentiles. And that's true, since this world is not total hell.
Another point: I noticed in my post, Zechariah 9:9, Part I, that the king is "saved." There was an interesting discussion there! I'm glad to see that the rabbis also did something with this feature of the verse.
Showing posts with label Humble God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humble God. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Study, Martyrdom, Humble God
1.Michael Fishbane, "Use, Authority and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran," Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. Martin Jan Mulder (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004) 344-345.
"Knowledge and study of the Tora of Moses was thus a basic prerequisite for the proper understanding and faithful performance of the commandments. Contemporary Stoics queried about the relative importance of theory and practice; and our early Pharisaic sources show a Jewish adaptation of this topos in the recurrent debates over the relative importance of study (of Tora) and practice (of the commandments). A famous rabbinic resolution of this dilemma was to prefer study, and to say that 'Tora is (the) great(er), for it leads to practice.' Such a dilemma would have been resolved quite differently by the Qumran covenanteers. Faced with the question, they would have said that both are 'great', but that study of Tora is the greater, for without it there can be no true and proper religious practice. Study of the Tora is thus its correct study and interpretation; and only on this basis can there be legitimate and divinely authorized observance of the commandments."
I don't understand what this debate was about. After all, one has to study the law in order to do it, right? Study helps one know what is legal and illegal.
But one way I've read the rabbinic passage is that we should keep on studying, since learning about God inspires us to obey him. That's why I do my daily quiet times, even though I usually don't live an exemplary Christian lifestyle. Hopefully some of God's goodness will rub off on me!
What did Jews study when they learned Torah? Probably halakhah--the nuts and bolts of religious practice: what they should do, and what they should not do. But they probably also learned aggadah, the legends that could inspire them. I'm not entirely sure if they learned the reasons for the commandments in the rabbinic period, since I've heard that was more of a medieval preoccupation.
2. Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume II: Ante-Nicene Christianity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1910) 700.
A Stoic philosopher of this name [(Diognetus)] instructed Marcus Aurelius in his youth (about 133)...Perhaps he taught him also to despise the Christian martyrs, and to trace their heroic courage to sheer obstinacy. It is quite probable that our Diognetus was identical with the imperial tutor; for he wished especially to know what enabled these Christians 'to despise the world and to make light of death.'"
Schaff relates elsewhere that Judaism and Christianity were pretty radical in their conception of the afterlife. According to him, the Greco-Roman culture either didn't have one, or it had one that didn't offer much hope.
I think about James Crossley's book, Why Christianity Happened, which argues that people became Christians because they knew people who were Christians. Some were committed to the faith, and some were not. I agree that social networks played a role in the spread of Christianity, but I have a hard time believing that people just latched onto the Christian movement because of people they knew. The early Christians were willing to die for their beliefs! They had a conception of the afterlife that differed from the predominant one of their culture, yet they believed in it so strongly that they laid down their lives for it.
Christian apologists like to say that the early Christians died for their beliefs because they saw the risen Jesus. That may work for the first century, but what about the subsequent Christian martyrs? Did they rest their beliefs on the eyewitness testimony of those who came before them? Or on the miracles that early Christian literature mentions? Or on the beauty of their religion, which made brothers out of all types and classes of people? Or maybe they were on the low end of the social spectrum, so they assumed they didn't have much to lose by laying down their lives. "Maybe there really is a good afterlife for us," they may have thought.
3. "The Nature and Character of God and His Relations with Man," A Rabbinic Anthology, ed. C.G. Montefiore and H. Loewe (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1938) 30.
"If a pupil is ill, and the teacher goes to visit him, the other pupils go before to announce the coming of the teacher. But when God went to visit Abraham in his illness, He went first, before the angels (Gen. XVIII, 1, 2). Is there anyone more humble than He? (Tanh., Wayera, 2, f. 31b.)"
On this blog, I often buy into Christian stereotypes of Judaism: that it is ritualistic and legalistic. But Judaism is not exactly like Islam, which (in my impression) views God as a righteous, omnipotent autocrat in the sky. Rather, like Christianity, Judaism views God as humble. Actually, Judaism is explicit about this, something Christianity is not, unless you count Philippians 2's hymn about Christ humbling himself by becoming a human being and going to the cross. There's a sense in which God exalts himself in Scripture, but he also humbles himself when he suffers indignity and offers numerous chances for people to repent.
"Knowledge and study of the Tora of Moses was thus a basic prerequisite for the proper understanding and faithful performance of the commandments. Contemporary Stoics queried about the relative importance of theory and practice; and our early Pharisaic sources show a Jewish adaptation of this topos in the recurrent debates over the relative importance of study (of Tora) and practice (of the commandments). A famous rabbinic resolution of this dilemma was to prefer study, and to say that 'Tora is (the) great(er), for it leads to practice.' Such a dilemma would have been resolved quite differently by the Qumran covenanteers. Faced with the question, they would have said that both are 'great', but that study of Tora is the greater, for without it there can be no true and proper religious practice. Study of the Tora is thus its correct study and interpretation; and only on this basis can there be legitimate and divinely authorized observance of the commandments."
I don't understand what this debate was about. After all, one has to study the law in order to do it, right? Study helps one know what is legal and illegal.
But one way I've read the rabbinic passage is that we should keep on studying, since learning about God inspires us to obey him. That's why I do my daily quiet times, even though I usually don't live an exemplary Christian lifestyle. Hopefully some of God's goodness will rub off on me!
What did Jews study when they learned Torah? Probably halakhah--the nuts and bolts of religious practice: what they should do, and what they should not do. But they probably also learned aggadah, the legends that could inspire them. I'm not entirely sure if they learned the reasons for the commandments in the rabbinic period, since I've heard that was more of a medieval preoccupation.
2. Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume II: Ante-Nicene Christianity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1910) 700.
A Stoic philosopher of this name [(Diognetus)] instructed Marcus Aurelius in his youth (about 133)...Perhaps he taught him also to despise the Christian martyrs, and to trace their heroic courage to sheer obstinacy. It is quite probable that our Diognetus was identical with the imperial tutor; for he wished especially to know what enabled these Christians 'to despise the world and to make light of death.'"
Schaff relates elsewhere that Judaism and Christianity were pretty radical in their conception of the afterlife. According to him, the Greco-Roman culture either didn't have one, or it had one that didn't offer much hope.
I think about James Crossley's book, Why Christianity Happened, which argues that people became Christians because they knew people who were Christians. Some were committed to the faith, and some were not. I agree that social networks played a role in the spread of Christianity, but I have a hard time believing that people just latched onto the Christian movement because of people they knew. The early Christians were willing to die for their beliefs! They had a conception of the afterlife that differed from the predominant one of their culture, yet they believed in it so strongly that they laid down their lives for it.
Christian apologists like to say that the early Christians died for their beliefs because they saw the risen Jesus. That may work for the first century, but what about the subsequent Christian martyrs? Did they rest their beliefs on the eyewitness testimony of those who came before them? Or on the miracles that early Christian literature mentions? Or on the beauty of their religion, which made brothers out of all types and classes of people? Or maybe they were on the low end of the social spectrum, so they assumed they didn't have much to lose by laying down their lives. "Maybe there really is a good afterlife for us," they may have thought.
3. "The Nature and Character of God and His Relations with Man," A Rabbinic Anthology, ed. C.G. Montefiore and H. Loewe (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1938) 30.
"If a pupil is ill, and the teacher goes to visit him, the other pupils go before to announce the coming of the teacher. But when God went to visit Abraham in his illness, He went first, before the angels (Gen. XVIII, 1, 2). Is there anyone more humble than He? (Tanh., Wayera, 2, f. 31b.)"
On this blog, I often buy into Christian stereotypes of Judaism: that it is ritualistic and legalistic. But Judaism is not exactly like Islam, which (in my impression) views God as a righteous, omnipotent autocrat in the sky. Rather, like Christianity, Judaism views God as humble. Actually, Judaism is explicit about this, something Christianity is not, unless you count Philippians 2's hymn about Christ humbling himself by becoming a human being and going to the cross. There's a sense in which God exalts himself in Scripture, but he also humbles himself when he suffers indignity and offers numerous chances for people to repent.
Monday, September 24, 2007
A Humble God in Ezekiel 22
One of my favorite shows is Highway to Heaven. In the series, Michael Landon plays an angel named Jonathan Smith, who helps people. He is assisted by an ex-cop, Mark Gordon, who is played by Victor French. I got the first season on Amazon for five bucks! Michael Landon had issues, but he tried to make the world a better place.
There is an episode that always gets to me. It is called “A Child of God.” In the episode, there is a woman who is terminally ill, and she has a daughter. She wants to reconcile with her parents so that they can raise the child after her death. Her father is a pastor, who does not forgive her because she had the child out of wedlock. When he discovers at the end that she is dying, he reconciles with her. He gives a sermon at the end in which he says that we should judge less and love more.
What always gets to me is this one part of the sermon. The pastor says that an atheist who does good deeds will go to heaven. According to him, God is not interested in receiving recognition, but he wants us to do good to others. I reckon that this part of the sermon was Michael Landon's religion: God wants us to do good, whatever we believe.
I've had a variety of reactions to the sermon, some hostile (“that's liberal hogwash!”), some sympathetic. My problem is that it's not exactly what the Bible teaches. According to the Scriptures, God desires recognition. I'm reading Ezekiel right now. How many times does God say “And they shall know that I am the LORD”? Many.
On the other hand, I like the idea of a humble deity, whose sole aim is to teach us to do good. As I said before, the biblical God appears on the surface to be rather proud. The great C.S. Lewis himself wrestled with this issue.
Ezekiel 22 strikes me as relevant to this issue in two ways. First, let's look at vv 6-12. God is lambasting the princes of Israel for various sins: murder, dishonor of parents, violation of sabbaths, slander, lewdness on the mountains, sexual immorality, usury, and extortion. Then, after this long list, God adds what looks like an afterthought: “and you have forgotten me, says the Lord GOD.” You would expect that to be first on the list. Instead, it is the last item. And there isn't much drama attached to it either. The other sins are described elaborately, like they're part of a powerful jeremiad (or Ezekiel-iad) against human vice. After all this thunder, you have the diminutive “and you have forgotten me.”
Then, there's v 16. Based on certain manuscripts (Gk Syr Vg), the New Revised Standard Version translates the verse: “And I shall be profaned through you in the sight of the nations; and you shall know that I am the LORD.” The Hebrew says that Israel will be profaned. Whichever is correct, there is a sense in which God allowed himself to be profaned in the sight of the nations in order to teach Israel a lesson. When the Babylonians conquered Judah, other nations probably said that the LORD was not a powerful god. After all, his people lost. To the nations, that meant that God could not protect them. Moreover, God allowed the temple, his palace on earth, to be destroyed. The Babylonians were not showing the God of Israel any respect when they burned down his earthly house. God tolerated their brazen irreverence.
God suffered this indignity because he wanted to teach his people holiness. Sure, he was still concerned about his reputation, for he says throughout Ezekiel that he will restore Israel in order to magnify his name among the nations. But his reputation was not his only concern. He wanted to make known his character, not only his power and position. His goal was to do that through Israel, who would be holy as he was holy and demonstrate the justice of God's ways. Unfortunately, the Israelites only demonstrated oppression, selfishness, greed, and moral laxity. God saw a need to correct this.
God put his reputation second place at another point in human history, when he became Jesus Christ. At the incarnation, God made himself of no reputation (Philippians 2:7). At the crucifixion, he endured mockery, disrespect, and indignity.
So when God appears to vaunt himself in Scripture, he's not doing so out of pride. He does so because he knows that a relationship with him is an indispensable part of goodness. And he is willing to endure indignity to bring that relationship into existence.
There is an episode that always gets to me. It is called “A Child of God.” In the episode, there is a woman who is terminally ill, and she has a daughter. She wants to reconcile with her parents so that they can raise the child after her death. Her father is a pastor, who does not forgive her because she had the child out of wedlock. When he discovers at the end that she is dying, he reconciles with her. He gives a sermon at the end in which he says that we should judge less and love more.
What always gets to me is this one part of the sermon. The pastor says that an atheist who does good deeds will go to heaven. According to him, God is not interested in receiving recognition, but he wants us to do good to others. I reckon that this part of the sermon was Michael Landon's religion: God wants us to do good, whatever we believe.
I've had a variety of reactions to the sermon, some hostile (“that's liberal hogwash!”), some sympathetic. My problem is that it's not exactly what the Bible teaches. According to the Scriptures, God desires recognition. I'm reading Ezekiel right now. How many times does God say “And they shall know that I am the LORD”? Many.
On the other hand, I like the idea of a humble deity, whose sole aim is to teach us to do good. As I said before, the biblical God appears on the surface to be rather proud. The great C.S. Lewis himself wrestled with this issue.
Ezekiel 22 strikes me as relevant to this issue in two ways. First, let's look at vv 6-12. God is lambasting the princes of Israel for various sins: murder, dishonor of parents, violation of sabbaths, slander, lewdness on the mountains, sexual immorality, usury, and extortion. Then, after this long list, God adds what looks like an afterthought: “and you have forgotten me, says the Lord GOD.” You would expect that to be first on the list. Instead, it is the last item. And there isn't much drama attached to it either. The other sins are described elaborately, like they're part of a powerful jeremiad (or Ezekiel-iad) against human vice. After all this thunder, you have the diminutive “and you have forgotten me.”
Then, there's v 16. Based on certain manuscripts (Gk Syr Vg), the New Revised Standard Version translates the verse: “And I shall be profaned through you in the sight of the nations; and you shall know that I am the LORD.” The Hebrew says that Israel will be profaned. Whichever is correct, there is a sense in which God allowed himself to be profaned in the sight of the nations in order to teach Israel a lesson. When the Babylonians conquered Judah, other nations probably said that the LORD was not a powerful god. After all, his people lost. To the nations, that meant that God could not protect them. Moreover, God allowed the temple, his palace on earth, to be destroyed. The Babylonians were not showing the God of Israel any respect when they burned down his earthly house. God tolerated their brazen irreverence.
God suffered this indignity because he wanted to teach his people holiness. Sure, he was still concerned about his reputation, for he says throughout Ezekiel that he will restore Israel in order to magnify his name among the nations. But his reputation was not his only concern. He wanted to make known his character, not only his power and position. His goal was to do that through Israel, who would be holy as he was holy and demonstrate the justice of God's ways. Unfortunately, the Israelites only demonstrated oppression, selfishness, greed, and moral laxity. God saw a need to correct this.
God put his reputation second place at another point in human history, when he became Jesus Christ. At the incarnation, God made himself of no reputation (Philippians 2:7). At the crucifixion, he endured mockery, disrespect, and indignity.
So when God appears to vaunt himself in Scripture, he's not doing so out of pride. He does so because he knows that a relationship with him is an indispensable part of goodness. And he is willing to endure indignity to bring that relationship into existence.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
What Do the Nations Think?
God is especially concerned about his reputation in the Book of Ezekiel. He really cares about what the nations think about him. In Ezekiel 36:22-23, for example, he says that he will deliver Judah for the sake of his own name, not for the sake of Judah. Why does God care about his reputation among non-Israelites?
I first thought about this issue in high school. I was reading the Book of Isaiah, and God appeared to be rather pompous. Here we humans are--we are supposed to be humble and modest--and the very God we are commanded to imitate is bragging about himself.
Over the years, I have found ways to deal with this concern. C.S. Lewis actually tried to tackle it in Mere Christianity and Reflections on the Psalms. His conclusion was that God exalts himself for our benefit. God knows that he is the only one who can give people happiness and fulfillment. Therefore, God exalts himself to convince us of his supremacy so that we will turn to him.
Theologically speaking, there is merit to this proposal. After all, why would a being as great as God care about what puny humans think of him? Would a human fret over what an ant thinks? Unless we want to say that God is insecure, we have to believe that God exalts himself for a reason other than pride.
Moreover, Lewis' proposal often works from a Scriptural standpoint. Why does God care about his reputation among the nations? One explanation is that God wants the nations to worship him. That works for some biblical books, such as Isaiah and Psalms. Solomon also expressed such a sentiment when he mentioned that a foreigner might come to the Temple to worship God, after he has heard of God's mighty deeds (I Kings 8:41-43).
But I do not think that Lewis' proposal works as well for Ezekiel. Unlike Isaiah, Ezekiel does not focus on all nations coming to Zion to worship Yahweh. His focus is on Israelites worshipping him after their restoration. Moreover, in Ezekiel, God tells certain nations that they will know he is the LORD immediately before their destruction (Ezekiel 35:3-4; 39:6). If God magnifies himself so that the nations will worship and serve him, then destroying them after they discover he is God seems rather imprudent.
God may just be saying that he will have the last laugh. The nations who lightly esteem Israel's God may be laughing now, but they will learn the truth at their destruction. Maybe that fits into the perspective of Ezekiel, but would God invest so much energy in preserving his reputation among the nations if he just wanted to gloat?
What do you think?
I first thought about this issue in high school. I was reading the Book of Isaiah, and God appeared to be rather pompous. Here we humans are--we are supposed to be humble and modest--and the very God we are commanded to imitate is bragging about himself.
Over the years, I have found ways to deal with this concern. C.S. Lewis actually tried to tackle it in Mere Christianity and Reflections on the Psalms. His conclusion was that God exalts himself for our benefit. God knows that he is the only one who can give people happiness and fulfillment. Therefore, God exalts himself to convince us of his supremacy so that we will turn to him.
Theologically speaking, there is merit to this proposal. After all, why would a being as great as God care about what puny humans think of him? Would a human fret over what an ant thinks? Unless we want to say that God is insecure, we have to believe that God exalts himself for a reason other than pride.
Moreover, Lewis' proposal often works from a Scriptural standpoint. Why does God care about his reputation among the nations? One explanation is that God wants the nations to worship him. That works for some biblical books, such as Isaiah and Psalms. Solomon also expressed such a sentiment when he mentioned that a foreigner might come to the Temple to worship God, after he has heard of God's mighty deeds (I Kings 8:41-43).
But I do not think that Lewis' proposal works as well for Ezekiel. Unlike Isaiah, Ezekiel does not focus on all nations coming to Zion to worship Yahweh. His focus is on Israelites worshipping him after their restoration. Moreover, in Ezekiel, God tells certain nations that they will know he is the LORD immediately before their destruction (Ezekiel 35:3-4; 39:6). If God magnifies himself so that the nations will worship and serve him, then destroying them after they discover he is God seems rather imprudent.
God may just be saying that he will have the last laugh. The nations who lightly esteem Israel's God may be laughing now, but they will learn the truth at their destruction. Maybe that fits into the perspective of Ezekiel, but would God invest so much energy in preserving his reputation among the nations if he just wanted to gloat?
What do you think?
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