Book Write-Up: The Stone of Ebenezer

Susan Van Volkenburgh.  The Stone of Ebenezer.  Bloomington: Westbow Press, 2015.  See here to buy the book.

The Stone of Ebenezer is a novelization of the biblical story in I Samuel 4-7.  In that story, Israel’s priesthood is corrupt, and the Philistines are waging war against Israel.  The Israelites bring the Ark of the Covenant into battle in the hope that this will make them victorious against the Philistines.  What happens instead is that the Philistines defeat Israel and take the Ark for themselves.  This does not exactly help the Philistines, however, for the Ark (or God’s presence with the Ark) knocks over the Philistine god Dagon and smites the Philistines with a plague.  The Philistines find a way to return the Ark to Israel.  Under the leadership of Samuel, Israel repudiates idolatry.  God then smites the Philistines, and the Israelites pursue them.

Susan Van Volkenburgh’s prose in this book is beautiful.  It is deep, yet it still manages to convey a realistic view of the characters and a clear, vivid picture of the events.  She intersperses Hebrew words throughout the book and provides a glossary of those terms in the back.  She portrays the Philistines as real people: not as sympathetic as the Israelites, mind you, but still as people with hopes, friends, and loved ones.  She did historical research in writing this novel, particularly on Canaanite religion and mythology. The scenes in which the Philistines are worshiping their gods and attempting to account theologically for their misfortunes are powerful.

There are some things that could be nitpicked, in terms of her research. She draws a lot from the 1915 International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, when she should have used the more recent one.  Yet, to her credit, she also draws from research from the last two decades.  In giving the pronunciation of Hebrew words, she is not very consistent.  For some words, she tells us how they sound in Hebrew.  For other words, she gives us the conventional English pronunciation.

My main problem is not with this book’s research, however.  The research is rather impressive.  My struggle is trying to identify what makes this book different from other works of biblical fiction I have read, particularly the works of Lynn Austin and Roberta Kells Dorr.  The novels of Austin and Dorr are superior to Volkenburgh’s novel, in certain respects.  I think that the difference is that Austin and Dorr focus a lot on characterization and the story that they themselves created (apart from the biblical story).  Yes, the biblical story is there, but there is also a focus on other things: the characters’ thoughts, feelings, motivations, and relationships.  In Volkenburgh’s novel, by contrast, the biblical story loomed much larger; Volkenburgh’s story was filler for the biblical story.  Reviewers who criticize Dorr for straying too far from the Bible would probably prefer Volkenburgh’s book.  One can legitimately respond that Volkenburgh did talk about the thoughts, feelings, and histories of her characters.  She did, but the characters in the works by Austin and Dorr are more rounded, more complex, more dynamic.

I am vacillating between giving this book a 3 and a 4.  I will give it a 4 because I did enjoy reading it.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book through BookLook Bloggers, in exchange for an honest review.

Between Me and God

I have been reading the first century Jewish work, Pseudo-Philo.

In the biblical Book of I Samuel, Hannah is barren, and she mumbles before God at the sanctuary, asking God for a son.  Pseudo-Philo elaborates on this.  According to Pseudo-Philo, Hannah did not pray aloud because she did not want to give her enemies or the enemies of God occasion to blaspheme.  She realized that what was important to God was not offspring, but rather doing God’s will, so she was open to the possibility that God may say “no” to her request.  But she did not want to be public in asking God for a son, for then, if God answered “no,” enemies would taunt her, and maybe even mock God in the process.  Consequently, Hannah sought to keep her request between her and God.

There are a lot of things that I keep between myself and God.  There is a place for testifying to God’s goodness—-for telling people about prayers that we feel God has answered.  We see that sort of thing in the Book of Psalms.  People can be encouraged to have faith in God when they hear about answered prayer.  When we were moving to the west coast and were looking for a place to live, people at my church were praying for us.  Of course, I told them when we finally found a place to live!  That was an occasion to testify, and also to acknowledge their concern for us.

But I am hesitant to testify to everyone about things.  Unless the event is earth-shakingly dramatic, a number of atheists can dismiss one’s testimony as a recounting of coincidence, or luck, or something that did not require divine intervention and could have happened anyway, or with enough effort.  There are people who may mock one’s faith when things appear to go wrong, as Hannah feared.  And some people who suffer, or whose loved ones suffer, may not want to read or hear someone trumpeting one’s good fortune.  If one person’s father recovers from a disease, for example, whereas another person’s father dies, would the latter want to hear the former praising God for healing her father?

Something I should note is that, while Hannah wanted to keep her request for a son between her and God, ultimately, the matter did not remain between her and God.  In Pseudo-Philo, the point is made that Samuel would be a light to his people, Israel, a leader.  Psalm 99:6, where Asaph mentions Samuel, is taken by Hannah to be a prophecy about Samuel’s birth—-and I do not entirely understand this, since my understanding was that the Asaph of the Book of Psalms lived later, during the time of King David, according to I Chronicles.  Maybe Pseudo-Philo thinks that Asaph lived for a long time!

I am not sure what to do homiletically with that thought that Hannah’s request ultimately did not remain between her and God.  One reason that Christians may encourage testimonies is that they want us to think beyond ourselves and things turning out well for us—-to consider larger issues, such as more people coming to faith in God.  I could identify, though, with why Hannah wanted her request to be private.  Christians are often exhorted to testify, but maybe we do not have to testify about everything we believe God has done for us.  Maybe it is sometimes all right to keep things between us and God.

Psalm 113

For my weekly quiet time this week, I'll blog about Psalm 113.

According to Psalm 113, God dwells above the nations and even above the heavens, yet God looks at what is going on below Him in heaven and on earth.  And God is not a passive observer, as far as the Psalmist in Psalm 113 is concerned, for God lifts up the poor and seats them with princes and gives children to women who are barren.

Patrick Miller in the HarperCollins Study Bible states that "the song stands in a line of tradition with 1 Sam 2.1-10; Lk 1.46-55."  I Samuel 2:1-10 is Hannah's song of praise after God answered her prayer for a son, a prayer that she prayed when she was barren.  And Luke 1:46-55 is the Magnificat, which Mary sang when she was pregnant with Jesus.  Hannah's song is about how God lifts up the hungry and the poor and gives the barren woman seven children.  And Luke 1:46-55 is likewise about God elevating the lowly and the hungry.

Psalm 113 is similar to Hannah's song and the Magnificat in its theme of God exalting the lowly.  But Psalm 113 is also different from Hannah's song and the Magnificat, for Hannah's song and the Magnificat are not just about the exaltation of the lowly, but also the debasement of the well-off.  I Samuel 2:5, for instance, says that those who were full have hired themselves out in an attempt to get bread, and that the woman who had lots of children has become feeble.  Luke 1:51 affirms that God has scattered the proud, Luke 1:52 says that God has cast the mighty from their seats, and Luke 1:53 states that God has sent the rich away empty.  Psalm 113, by contrast, is thoroughly positive in that it focuses on God's elevation of the lowly, while it does not mention God's debasement of the mighty.

Of course, Psalm 113 is part of a unit called the Hallel or the Egyptian Hallel, which consists of Psalms 113-118.  Many Jews sing the Hallel during the Passover.  Was Psalm 113 originally written to be part of the larger Hallel unit?  And does the larger Hallel unit focus primarily on God's elevation of the lowly, or does it also include the notion that God will debase the mighty?  As I glance at the Hallel unit, most of what I see is positive.  Psalm 118:10-11 affirms that the Psalmist cut down the adversarial nations who were surrounding him, but, overall, the Hallel focuses on God's deliverance of people.  That's my impression, based on my quick scanning of the Hallel.

But I'd like to play a little bit with the theme of thanking God for blessing us, rather than praising God for casting down the mighty.  Whenever I am told that I should pray for my enemies and ask that God give them the things that I desire for myself (i.e., health, economic provision, etc.), I am very hesitant, for I don't want for God to bless my enemies.  But I should want for God to bless both of us, not for me to be blessed while my enemies are cursed, or for my enemies to be blessed while I have to struggle.  I'd like to think that there are plenty of God's blessings to go around!  Of course, Psalm 113 does not even mention the Psalmist's enemies, but rather focuses on God's elevation of the lowly.  The reason that people tell me to pray for my enemies is that they believe that this could cure my resentment, and the curing of resentment does not appear to be a theme in Psalm 113.  But Psalm 113 is still a Psalm that focuses on the positive----on God's goodness and how far God has brought people who once were in the dumps, and now no longer are.  Such a positive attitude is something I should strive for.  At the very least, I should appreciate and enjoy what God gives me, rather than looking at my enemies to see how they are doing.  But a state of spiritual advancement beyond that is for me to pray that God will bless my enemies with the blessings that I desire for myself (meaning that the prayer is for God to bless both of us).

But is there a place for the attitude of Hannah and Mary in the Magnificat, of wishing for the downfall of those who are mighty?  I would say "yes" and "no".  I'd say "yes" because Hannah and Mary were probably talking (at least in part) about the oppression of Israel at the hands of the mighty.  Hannah, perhaps, was expressing her hope that God would use her son Samuel to deliver Israel from her oppressors, such as the Philistines, and that is what happened (I Samuel 7:13).  And Mary had Messianic expectations regarding her son Jesus, that in Jesus rested the deliverance of Israel from those who afflicted her.  It is right to desire the end of oppression, which humiliates people, dehumanizes them, or reduces them to poverty.

I'd say "no", albeit with some hesitation, if Hannah were glorifying the woman with lots of children becoming feeble because she did not care for her husband's other wife, Peninnah, who had lots of children and mocked Hannah when Hannah was barren.  If Hannah in I Samuel 2:5 is hoping that God will make Peninnah feeble, then such a sentiment is certainly understandable and human on Hannah's part.  But there is an attitude that is spiritually advanced beyond that: to have compassion for Peninnah and to forgive her.  Peninnah may have mocked Hannah because Peninnah was jealous that their husband loved Hannah more than he loved her (Peninnah).  Hannah perhaps should have sympathized more with Peninnah's predicament, or she should have forgiven Peninnah.  But I realize that this was probably easier said than done, since it's easy for one to talk about forgiveness, but it's harder to extend it to those with whom one comes into contact.

Saul Is Tov

On page 355 of Poetics of Biblical Narrative, Meir Sternberg says the following about King Saul:

"'Saul'---the traditional rendering goes---'was a handsome [tov] young man. There was not a man among the children of Israel more handsome [tov] than he; from his shoulders upward he was taller than any of the people' (1 Sam 9:2). Not only does he enjoy royal appearance; he may well have the character to go with it. For the key epithet tov, translated in automatic fashion as 'handsome,' originally means 'good' and only by extention 'good-looking.' So the two readings of the character are prefigured in miniature by the two-faced epithet. Does Saul owe his election to his being the best of the best looking of the Israelites?...All the character traits [the narrative] brings out in episode after dramatic episode---modesty, self-restraint, inspired leadership in the war against Ammon---count heavily and unequivocally in Saul's favor."

People of faith have interpreted the character of Saul in different ways. Josephus and rabbinic literature say positive things about Saul. An evangelical friend of mine once hearkened back to the zeal that Saul had for God and for justice in his early years. Others, by contrast, have argued that the roots of Saul's later downfall were actually in place during his early years. Sternberg praises Saul's modesty, but there are religious interpreters who have mocked Saul's hiding among the baggage when he was being selected as king, as if that foreshadowed his later fear of the people and sense of inadequacy, when he lighted the sacrifice before Samuel arrived and spared the animals and the king of Amalek. Then there was Saul's rashness in barring Israelite soldiers from eating in the heat of battle, and Saul even went so far as to be willing to execute his own son, Jonathan, for eating honey. For many interpreters, that's not a good example of leadership.

Interpreters who are negative about Saul also comment on Saul's appearance. They argue that Saul may have looked good, but his heart was not right. When Samuel went to Jesse to anoint a replacement for Saul, Samuel was impressed by Eliab's stature, but God told Samuel not to look at the outward appearance, for God looks at the heart.

In my opinion, it should be remembered that God chose Saul to be king. Does that mean that God saw something there that was positive? Or was God deliberately choosing someone who would fail, thereby preparing the stage for David, who was prophesied to be king years earlier, in Genesis 49. Many historical-critics may say that I shouldn't jumble together sources---that there is a pro-Saul source, an anti-Saul source, and sources that emerged during or after the time of the Davidic monarchy, in order to legitimize it.

Love Your Enemies, Acknowledge Their Goodness!

Louis H. Feldman, "Use, Authority and Exegesis of Mikra in the Writings of Josephus," Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. Martin Jan Mulder (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004) 485, 491, 501.

These three pages discuss Josephus' treatment of Saul in Antiquities 6. In vv 343-350, Josephus praises Saul as courageous because Saul went out to fight the Philistines even after Samuel had told him that he'd die in battle. Josephus also seems to endorse Saul's suicide, since Saul wasn't going to give the Philistines the satisfaction of dishonoring him and his sons in battle! Josephus' view of Saul probably corresponds with his general ideas on valor. For example, Josephus presents the Jews at Masada as heroes, for they committed suicide rather than surrendering to the Romans and serving as their slaves (see here).

At the same time, Josephus cannot escape the biblical narrative's negative depiction of Saul, since Saul did slaughter the priests at Nob (I Samuel 21-22). In Antiquities 6:264ff., Josephus says that even a just man can do bad things once he's accumulated a lot of power, for power corrupts.

These parts of Feldman's article stood out to me because of my weekly quiet time this week, which is now in the book of II Samuel. Saul has died, and, in II Samuel 1:18-27, David sings a song in honor of Saul and Jonathan. It is called the Song of the Bow. E.W. Bullinger speculates that the song has that title because Saul and Jonathan were Benjamites, who were renowned for their skill with the bow (I Chronicles 8:40; 12:2; II Chronicles 14:8; 17:17).

David praises Saul because he was mighty in battle, even when he died. David also mentions that Saul brought prosperity to the daughters of Israel, so they should express their gratitude. Saul cared so much for his people that he didn't go down without a fight.

II Samuel 1 made me think about the question, "Why should I love my enemies?" In my post, Love for Enemies, I argued that there were places in I Samuel in which David didn't really love his enemy Saul, who was trying to kill him. David hoped that God would somehow take Saul's life!

In II Samuel 1, however, David loves Saul much more than he did, for he is sad that Saul has died. His reason for his sadness is not "Well, I have to be pious, so I might as well act as if I love my enemy!" And I disagree with Baruch Halpern's thesis in David's Secret Demons (if I understand it correctly) that the song in II Samuel 1 is trying to masquerade David's long-time plot to kill Saul. I think that David sincerely was sad about Saul's passing because Saul had done some good things in life, and David wanted to honor him for those.

I've heard Christians offer a variety of reasons for why we should love our enemies. Some say that we should do so because we are no better than they are, since we are all sinners. Maybe that's a valid reason. Josephus seems to claim that anyone could become like Saul if he accumulates a lot of power. Similarly, perhaps I'd be like the jerks I dislike if I had their experiences! At the same time, this approach doesn't entirely give me an affectionate attitude towards those I dislike. When I'm trying to be positive in my outlook, the last thing I want to do is reflect on the inherent depravity of all humanity. How warm and fuzzy!

Other Christians contend that we should always believe the best about others and assume that they're acting from the right motivation. Joel Osteen has said this at times, and Garner Ted Armstrong used to interpret I Corinthians 13:7 (love "believes all things") in this manner. Granted, I don't think that I should be quick to condemn people, but I also don't hold that the Bible wants me to be gullible! Jesus told his disciples to be wise as serpents and helpless as doves (Matthew 10:16). In I Samuel, David did not hang around Saul even after Saul had apologized, for David realized that Saul could easily change his mind and resume his attempts to kill him. There is good, and there is evil, and we're well within our rights to keep ourselves safe from evil. We shouldn't be manipulated under "believes all things" to submit to those who desire to exploit or harm us.

In my opinion, one way for me to love my enemies is to remember that even they have some good within them. David felt obligated to honor Saul for the good things he had done, notwithstanding the fact that Saul had also done a lot of evil!

I like this line from the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book, page 217:

Shakespeare said, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." He forgot to mention that I was the chief critic. I was always able to see the flaw in every person, every situation...A.A. and acceptance have taught me that there is a bit of good in the best of us and a bit of bad in the best of us; that we are all children of God and we each have a right to be here. When I complain about me or about you, I am complaining about God's handiwork. I am saying that I know better than God.

I don't agree with the part about never complaining, but much of this quote is spot-on, in my opinion. I don't have to assume that everyone (including myself) is thoroughly evil, nor do I need to delude myself that all people are good. Rather, we all are mixtures of good and bad, and God loves each of us.

The Weary of I Samuel 30

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied I Samuel 30.

David and his men are leaving Achish in Philistia to go to Ziklag, a city in Simeon. Ziklag belongs to the Philistines, who gave it to David and his men. The journey from Achish to Ziklag takes three days.

When they arrive at Ziklag, they find that the Amalekites had burned it to the ground and taken their families captive. David's men then talk of stoning David, but David finds strength in the LORD his God. He receives guidance from God to go after the Amalekite raiders, and he takes six hundred men with him. When they reach the Wadi Besor, two hundred men remain behind with the luggage because they are too exhausted to go on, while four hundred continue on with David to pursue the Amalekites.

David and his men then find an Egyptian, who was once a slave to an Amalekite master. The master ditched the slave when he (the slave) had become sick. David gives the Egyptian food and water to drink, and his spirit is revived. The Egyptian tells David that the Amalekites had plundered areas in Judah and Philistia, and he leads David to them. David then attacks the Amalekites, gets the Israelite families back, and takes a lot of spoil.

Some of the four hundred who accompanied David do not want the two hundred who stayed behind to get any spoil. The text refers to the stingy ones as ish ra u-be-li-ya-al, or "evil man and Belial." The Nelson Study Bible states about the word "Belial": "This word has the basic sense of 'unworthy' and 'wicked.' It occurs in the Old Testament most frequently in phrases like 'worthless men' (30:22; Prov. 6:12) and 'worthless rogues' (2 Chr. 13:7). Worthless people are said to dig up evil (Prov. 16:27) and to plot wickedness (Nah. 1:11). This word became a proper name for Satan during the intertestamental period; thus Paul asked, 'What accord has Christ with Belial?' (2 Cor. 6:15)." Indeed, the word "Belial" is used for some pretty sordid characters, such as the gang-rapists in Judges 19-20 (Judges 19:22; 20:13) and the sons of Eli (I Samuel 2:12).

David rebukes the evil men for their stinginess, affirming that God is the one who gave them the victory. He divides the plunder between those who went to battle and those who stayed behind with the baggage. He also sent spoil to the elders of Judah. Maybe he was trying to curry their favor as he ascended to the throne. Perhaps he was returning to them what the Amalekites had taken, since the Amalekites had plundered Judah. The problem with the latter suggestion, though, is that David refers to it as a gift to the elders of Judah, which is inconsistent with him returning what was already theirs in the first place.

The main lesson that I got out of this chapter is that God does not devalue those who are tired. God is not like the Amalekite master, who ditched his sick slave and left him to starve. Some of David's men were tired because they had just journeyed from Achish for three days, only to discover that they needed to gird themselves for battle right away.

I don't always hear compassion for the tired in a lot of churches. What I hear is: "You need to be on fire for God! If you're not on fire, then something is wrong! God can't use you if you are wounded or unenthusiastic. He'll spew you out of his mouth!" But that was not David's attitude. For one, David reminded the men who had fought that the victory belonged to God, not them. They had no right to pat themselves on the back for being "on fire." And, second, even those who stayed behind with the luggage performed a valuable service. They stayed behind with the luggage! Maybe that enabled those who fought to continue onto the battle unencumbered with baggage! A lot of churches act like the weary cannot be used by God, when they obviously were in I Samuel 30.

I think that the text is a little hard on those who fought when it calls them "evil and Belial." These were men who obviously had problems themselves, even if they were "on fire." As John MacArthur points out, "From the beginning of David’s flight from Saul, he became captain of those who were in distress, discontent, and in debt (22:2), the least likely to exercise kindness and grace to others." That may be a lesson to me, someone who is sick and tired of Christians and the church. For one, the church is full of people who love to criticize, since they are the very ones looking for something when they decide to believe in Jesus. And, second, even though I am tired and wounded, I should not totally succumb to a complaining spirit, which is what some of the four hundred men essentially did.

At the same time, although the text calls them a really bad name, David does not write them off. Rather, he gives them another way to look at their situation. He encourages them to give thanks to God for his goodness and to recognize the contribution of those who stayed behind with the baggage. Hopefully, churches can offer food to those who are tired and wounded, as David fed the Egyptian slave when he was sick and hungry. That's much better than than kicking them when they are down--all in the name of "rebuke" and "correction"!

Kip McKean's Samuel Series

I've been listening to Kip McKean's series on I-II Samuel as part of my weekly quiet time (see here). Kip McKean was once head of the International Churches of Christ, which many consider a cult (see www.reveal.org). Although Kip is no longer a part of that organization, he seems to hold many of the same views. Felix once told me about the International Churches of Christ, "If they approach you, run the other way!"

Perhaps my biggest problem with Kip's sermons is that they have all that I hate about evangelicalism, while lacking the things that I like. Here are some things that I glean from his sermons (they're not exact quotes, but they're what I remember): "If you're lonely and reluctant to reach out to others, then you're not sold out for God!" "If you have excuses not to attend this Bible study, then you're not sold out for God!" "Hannah sang before the Lord. If you're not singing, then something is wrong!" "If you're hurt, then your problem is that you don't forgive!"

Kip says that we should be "sold out" for God, but I have yet to hear him explain why I should be drawn to his conception of God in the first place. Why? Because he can toss me into hell fire? Occasionally, I hear Kip talk about God's unconditional love, but that's usually when he's emphasizing that God has set conditions for us to receive God's grace (e.g., repentance, baptism, becoming a fisher of men, etc.). That reminds me of Armstrongism: its preachers only discussed grace when arguing that Christians should keep the law! At least evangelicalism has a God of love.

Why would I be sold out for a taskmaster, someone who assumes that I should think, feel, and act perfectly in order to have any spiritual security? Healing is a process. I wish that I could wave a magic wand and get rid of all of my social insecurity, unforgiveness, unhappiness, etc., but I don't have that. So I trust that God is patient with me as I heal.

I don't understand how anyone could endure the International Church of Christ's version of God, but there are people who do. I once sat beside a woman on a plane who was in the Boston Church of Christ, and she told me that she'd been a member for 27 years. Fortunately for me, she realized that I was a lost cause, probably because I was dropping the word "cult" in every other sentence. But I sincerely wonder: Wouldn't she run out of spiritual gas eventually, since none of us can be perfect all of the time? No wonder there are a lot of people who leave that church!

One thing I like about Kip, though, is that he's honest about his own imperfections. That somewhat took me aback the first time I heard him, since I expected him to think he was perfect. After all, if a religion demands perfection of its members for them to have spiritual security, then people would naturally try to convince themselves that they are spiritually up-to-snuff, right? But Kip is open about his marital squabbles, such as the times his wife stresses out about the finances, or when she told Kip that he was possessed by the devil. And Kip acknowledged that there have been times when he hasn't been in the mood to sing. If I'm not mistaken, he also said that his son was following the world before he finally decided to come back to the church. That shows me that Kip is patient and realistic as a parent. Real life tends to shatter our perfectionist demands!

The audience usually cheers Kip on while he preaches, but I wonder how much of that flows from sincerity, and how much of it is them acting as they think good, spiritual people should act. When the International Church of Christ was trying to make inroads at my undergraduate institution (DePauw), the leader of my evangelical Bible study group said, "You know, in the International Church of Christ, if you're not enthusiastic during the service, you're called out on that!" That's what I don't like about this church (from what I've heard about it): it tries to legislate what should be spontaneous and genuine.

That's not to say that Kip's sermons have nothing to teach me, though. Kip said that, when he was counselling a person with a lust problem, he told him to go home and look up a bunch of Bible passages about the "fear of the Lord." Personally, I have problems serving God out of fear, but maybe I'd behave better if fear were a part of my religion. But then what would that do to other aspects of God that draw me: his love, his patience with me, etc.?

Those are just my impressions so far. I hope International Church of Christ people don't visit my blog and try to convert me! I'll stick Felix, Russell, Aggie, and Byker Bob on them if they try!

Love for Enemies

Russell Miller talks about an interesting exchange on his blog, "Holy Mighty Atheist." Russell is discussing an exchange on the blog, As Bereans Did, in which Christian Bill Hohmann tells someone he's debating, "May God forgive you for being so quick to judge and condemn." Russell sees Bill's statement as a far cry from Jesus' command to love one's enemies.

Russell raises interesting points--such as the one that many Christians use "passive-aggressive" techniques because they don't feel that they can honestly express their anger. Here, however, I want to focus on love of enemies, since that's a topic that's come up in my weekly quiet time on I Samuel.

David and Abigail are often cited as examples of people who loved their enemies. David spared Saul's life on two occasions, even though Saul was hunting him down to kill him (I Samuel 24, 26). And Abigail prevented David from slaughtering her abusive husband Nabal and his men (I Samuel 25). I once read an evangelical book for women that claimed Abigail must have had a solid relationship with the Lord, since she loved Nabal after putting up with his put-downs all those years.

But did David and Abigail love their enemies? David tells Saul in I Samuel 24:12: "May the LORD judge between me and you! May the LORD avenge me on you; but my hand shall not be against you" (NRSV). In I Samuel 26:10-11, David says to the blood-thirsty Abishai, who is begging for David's permission to kill Saul in his sleep: "As the LORD lives, the LORD will strike him down; or his day will come to die; or he will go down into battle and perish. The LORD forbid that I should raise my hand against the LORD's anointed; but now take the spear that is at his head, and the water jar, and let us go."

David was perfectly willing (if not eager) for God to kill Saul, but he didn't want to do so himself. In these passages, he wasn't overly concerned about Saul's well-being. He just wanted to avoid guilt for himself.

What about Abigail? When she urges David to desist from his massacre of Nabal and his men, she says: "Now then, my lord, as the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, since the LORD has restrained you from bloodguilt and from taking vengeance with your own hand, now let your enemies and those who seek to do evil to my lord be like Nabal" (I Samuel 25:26). Something tells me that "like Nabal" is not exactly positive! Abigail wants Nabal to be punished for his rudeness, and her concern is more for the innocent people whom David was about to slaughter (the LXX for v 26 mentions innocent blood).

David and Abigail have an attitude of "I myself won't get back at you, but I sure hope God hurts you for what you did!" Is this love for enemies--valuing them as people and having concern for their well-being? Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies and do good to them (Matthew 5:44; Luke 6:27-28).

At the same time, the New Testament also displays the same attitude as David and Abigail. In Romans 12:17-21, Paul exhorts Christians not to avenge themselves but rather to return good for evil. For Paul, Christians are to leave vengeance to God, who promises to repay.

Anger is natural to human beings, and many of us would like to think that there is some justice in the world: that someone actually cares about our suffering at the hands of other people. Even taking ourselves out of the picture, who wants the wicked to get off scot-free? At the same time, those who hurt us or do bad things are human beings, just like we are, and they probably crave love like anyone does.

Was It Really Samuel?

In I Samuel 28, King Saul visits the witch of Endor and asks her to call up Samuel from the dead. "Samuel" then tells Saul that he and his sons will soon die, for God has rejected him from being king.

Was that really Samuel? My Armstrongite background answers "no." For Armstrongites, the dead are unconscious, for Ecclesiastes 9:5 says that the dead do not know anything, and Psalm 6:5 states that the dead in Sheol do not give thanks to God. This doctrine is known as "soul sleep." Armstrongites maintain that what Saul saw couldn't have been Samuel, but a demon.

The identity of "Samuel" in I Samuel 28 has been debated throughout the history of biblical interpretation. From what I can see, Jewish interpretations seemed to maintain that Samuel was the one who appeared to Saul. Jesus ben Sira (second century B.C.E.) says in Sirach 46:20 that Samuel prophesied even after his death, and Josephus (first century C.E.) affirms in Antiquities 6:332ff. that the soul of Samuel came up from Hades. The rabbis also think it was Samuel (see here).

Within Christianity, however, there was much more disagreement. I was reading the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture last night, and I saw that Justin Martyr believed it was Samuel, whereas Tertullian thought it was a demon. Origen tries to refute those who claim it's a demon. From Keil-Delitzsch's commentary, I learned that Martin Luther and John Calvin voted "demon."

Soul sleep isn't always the reason that Christians vote "demon." Eighteenth century Calvinist commentator John Gill and others say that Samuel couldn't come from the ground, since his soul was in heaven with God. So you can tell that soul sleep is not a factor in their conclusion!

Perhaps the biggest issue in the "demon" explanation is this: the Torah condemns seeking familiar spirits (Exodus 22:18; Leviticus 19:31; Deuteronomy 18:9–14), so certain Christians don't think that God would have honored necromancy by allowing a witch to bring up Samuel from the dead.

But what about the message of "Samuel"? He spoke God's word, didn't he? He said that Saul and his sons would die, and that God was rejecting him from being king. Would a demon speak the truth?

Those who claim that this was a demon have various answers for that. Some say that a demon can speak the truth, or that God can use a demon to accomplish God's will (I Kings 22:23). Others contend, however, that the demon was not conveying God's message. According to Matthew Henry and Ellen White, God would have encouraged Saul to repent rather than discouraging him and kicking him when he was down, as "Samuel" does in I Samuel 28. As many Christians today assert, the Holy Spirit convicts, whereas Satan condemns, and that's one way you can tell the difference between the two.

What's my position? I think it was Samuel for the reasons that the Nelson Study Bible enumerates: "It seems best to follow the early view that this was a genuine appearance of Samuel which God Himself brought about. Several points favor this interpretation: (1) The medium was surprised (v. 12); (2) Saul identified the figure as Samuel (v. 14); (3) the message Samuel spoke was clearly from God (vv. 16–19); (4) the text says that the figure was Samuel (vv. 12, 15, 16)." In my opinion, God was at work here, so Samuel did not arrive through the machinations of the necromancer. That's why she was so surprised!

One more point: I don't really see a conflict between I Samuel 28 and biblical passages asserting that the dead don't know anything. I Samuel 28:15 says that Saul "disturbed" Samuel. P. Kyle McCarter states: "The verb rendered disturbed here refers specifically to the interruption of the rest of the dead (cf. 'Sheol beneath is stirred up' in Isa 14:9); it occurs in ancient tomb inscriptions as a description of the activity of graverobbers." Ordinarily, the dead are resting, but someone or something can arouse them out of their sleep. We may see something like that in Isaiah 14, in which the kings in Sheol are aroused and taunt the king of Babylon. Maybe the Old Testament view on the afterlife is that the dead usually were ignorant and unconscious because they were resting, but they could become conscious when someone woke them up!

Ambiguity, Education, Witnessing

1. Devorah Dimant, "Use and Interpretation of the Mikra in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha," Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. Martin Jan Mulder (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004) 397.

"Judith 9:2-4[:] "The passage forms the opening part of Judith's prayer. It summarizes poetically the biblical episode, as part of the argument advanced by the prayer. In this argument Dinah's rape functions as the historical precedent, and as such forms part of the justification for the request addressed by Judith to God. The prayer retains the biblical emphasis on the violation of an Israelite virgin and her ensuing defilement, but omits the name of Dinah. The crime is ascribed to all the Shechemites (a view taken also by Jub 30 and Test. Levi), instead of Shechem alone. Such a sin is presented as a transgression of divine interdiction, read into the phrase 'And this shall not be done' (Gen 34:7). Consequently, the killing of the Shechemites by the sword of the sons of Jacob is seen as a just punishment prescribed by God. Moreover, the vengeance is represented as an act of piety and zeal for God."

The Hebrew of Genesis 34:27 says something that a lot of English translations obscure. I'll italicize the part about collective guilt: "The sons of Jacob came on the wounded and they plundered the city, which defiled (plural) their sister." A professor of mine once said, "This is plural, so it indicates collective guilt. You don't have to be in the 99th percentile of Hebrew knowledge to see this!" He was obviously frustrated with our lack of Hebrew knowledge!

But I don't want to focus here on collective guilt, but rather on the various views on Genesis 34. It's hard to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys. You may know the story: Shechem rapes Jacob's daughter, Dinah, then speaks tenderly to her. He asks his father to get him Dinah so he can marry her. His father then offers Jacob a huge payment, and Jacob's sons, Simeon and Levi, decide to deceive the Shechemites. They tell the Shechemites that they need to be circumcised before Shechem can marry Dinah. The Shechemites undergo this painful procedure, confident that Israel's property will soon be theirs. While the Shechemites are in pain, Simeon and Levi swoop in and kill all the males. The other Israelites then plunder the Shechemites' property. Jacob is upset, for he says that Simeon and Levi have made him look bad before the Canaanites. But Simeon and Levi get the last word in the story: "Should our sister be treated like a whore?" (NRSV).

I didn't know what to do with this story when I first read it. Who's right, and who's wrong? Shechem rapes Dinah, and that's bad. Yet he loves her and is willing to do anything to have her, and that's good. Simeon and Levi lie to the Shechemites, which is bad. Yet, they do so to uphold their sister's honor, and that's good. Not surprisingly, literary critics of the Bible disagree on the heroes and villains of this story.

In Genesis 49:5-7, there's an explicit condemnation of what Simeon and Levi did: "Simeon and Levi are brothers; weapons of violence are their swords. May I never come into their council; may I not be joined to their company--for in their anger they killed men, and at their whim they hamstrung oxen. Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce, and their wrath, for it is cruel! I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in Israel."

In the history of biblical interpretation, I see both sides, with the weight being on the anti-Shechem view. IV Maccabees 2:19-20 cites Simeon and Levi as people who did not manage their anger, with tragic results. This accords with IV Maccabees' focus on the Stoic desire to suppress the passions. But I gather from James Kugel's The Bible As It Was that most Jewish interpreters didn't think much of the Shechemites. They thought Genesis 34 condemned Gentiles and intermarriage with them. Some sought to excuse or downplay Simeon and Levi's deception, calling them "wise" instead of deceptive. There's a widespread belief that Simeon and Levi executed God's justice on Shechem.

Here's a point that will appear unrelated, but which I'll die back to Genesis 34 in the course of this post. One thing I love about Roots: The Next Generation is that Alex Haley goes out of his way to understand the different perspectives of his family and friends. Alex's father, Simon, wanted to go to college, but his dad didn't understand the value of education. He wanted Simon to be practical and work as a sharecropper. When Simon tells his mom, Queen, that his dad is ignorant, she slaps him, reminding him that some people lose hope when all they know is backbreaking labor.

Simon made a good life for himself through his education, and he told his son, Alex, that education is the key to a black man's success. But Alex didn't want to go to school. He hated school! Rather, he wanted to find his own way in the world.

Alex Haley is the one who wrote this story. Although he differed from his father, he understood where he was coming from. His story doesn't make his father out to be the bad guy.

The same goes for the miniseries' portrayal of Alex Haley's relationships. Alex had a marriage which ended in divorce, since his wife didn't like his focus on his writing career to the neglect of his family (in terms of not spending time with them). Afterwards, Alex had a relationship, which ended because he was obsessed with finding his roots, leading him to neglect his significant other.

Again, Alex is the author of this story. But he doesn't portray himself as right and the women in his life as wrong. Rather, he acknowledges that they had a legitimate point of view. He thinks that he needed to search for his roots to find out who he was, but he admits that this journey made him somewhat of a jerk to people he cared about.

I had the same sort of thought about Desperate Housewives earlier today. In the last episode, Carlos went to work at a high-paying corporate job, rather than taking the job that he wanted, in which he'd work with the blind. He did so to please his wife, Gabby, who wants fancy things and had to sacrifice to take care of her husband when he was blind (see Time for Carlos to Sacrifice). Carlos looks pretty heroic, huh? One could assume that his desire to work with the blind was an example of self-centered idealism, and that he made the right choice to make more money for his family.

But not so fast! Now he's away from his family a lot, and their daughters do not obey Gabby. When Gabrielle tells Carlos that he needs to spend time at home disciplining his little girls, Carlos responds that he doesn't want his rare time with his daughters to be spent growling at them. He also reminds Gabby that she was the one who wanted him to take the high-paying job. "But I just wanted us to have a normal life," Gabby responds. "Well, I hate my job, and the kids are out of control. We've got it!"

Did Carlos make the right choice? He made an understandable choice, but it was one with drawbacks. The same would have been true had he chosen to work with the blind at the community center.

Right. Wrong. It's not always evident! There are plenty of stories with clear heroes and villains. Ayn Rand's novels are like that, since they hardly ever portray the collectivists with redeeming human qualities. And the Bible has a lot of stories in which good battles evil. But there are times when the Bible presents moral ambiguity. One example is the story of Dinah in Genesis 34. And another is the chapter I read for my weekly quiet time this last Sabbath: I Samuel 14.

Is Saul good or bad? He inquires of God, only to interrupt the inquiry so he can chase after the Philistines. That's bad, since it's rude to God! Yet, he makes an oath that his soldiers will fast until they win, which acknowledges his dependence on God. And God may acknowledge this oath, since he doesn't answer Saul once Jonathan breaks it. When the soldiers can finally get to eat and start consuming animals with their blood, Saul gets upset, since that violates God's laws. He's even willing to execute his son Jonathan to enforce the oath. Is Saul rash, foolish, proud, and heartless? Or is he pious and impartial? He can be interpreted both ways. It's ambiguous!

What do we do with ambiguity?

2. Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume II: Ante-Nicene Christianity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1910) 784.

"The inspiring thought of Clement is that Christianity satisfies all the intellectual and moral aspirations and wants of man."

Can Christianity satisfy human beings on an intellectual level? I remember reading in Ellen G. White's Steps to Christ that the Bible can elevate the human intellect. And she has a point. Bible study leads people to contemplate deep questions, such as why we are here and where we are going. Half of the time, it can be quite a mental puzzle to comprehend what the Bible is saying! And there are plenty of fundamentalist-turned-atheists or agnostics who see value in their past years as Bible students, since Bible study taught them how to read and evaluate texts. They could also get lessons in anthropology, psychology, and religion from their reading of the Bible.

In my experience at DePauw University, there was a belief among some that being a Christian was antithetical to learning. When I was being interviewed for the Honor Scholars' Program, my professor asked me: "You're a Christian, so you think you already have the answers. Why would you want to study other writings?" An Honor Scholar inquired of me, "Why don't you just stay home and read your Bible? Why are you here at a university seeking answers?"

On some level, these questions were rather arrogant. For one, education is not just a matter of learning new ideas and changing my mind in response to them. It's a matter of economic livelihood! People go to college so they can survive and earn money in the real world! And second, it's not as if these people didn't have beliefs. They were atheists! They dogmatically proclaimed that there is no God. That's pretty closed-minded, isn't it? Why isn't their belief antithetical to education?

Yet, they had a point. Why learn different ideas, if everything I need is in the Bible? When I asked my dad this question after my rough Honor Scholar interview, he said that we may need guidance from real life on how to flesh out the Bible. Jesus told us to love our neighbors, but how we go about that is a complex question. To answer it, we may need to examine the wisdom of the ages.

I was thinking this morning about how I loved my first year at DePauw. I read all sorts of books and encountered a broad spectrum of viewpoints: Plato, Aristotle, Iris Murdoch, Ayn Rand, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, and (in my own time) C.S. Lewis. I should probably read some of their works to rekindle the romantic feeling I had at that time! But my first year at DePauw was not like my life today. I could read those works and still walk away as a solid Christian. Believe it or not, I could find continuities between them and my fundamentalist Christian faith. Plato focused on the spiritual, Ayn Rand discussed self-respect, Buddhism advised against clinging to the unreliable, etc. In Christianity, I found the answer to what these great thinkers were looking for.

Nowadays, while I'm still a Christian, my education has a more destabilizing effect on me. In college, I was essentially an Armstrongite, so I thought that God would offer everyone a chance to embrace him after their resurrections, whether or not they received Christ as their personal Savior before death. In my view, those who still rejected God would be mercifully extinguished in the Lake of Fire. So I could examine ideas in a stress-free environment.

Nowadays, things aren't so clear-cut. So many religions make exclusive claims, and they threaten people with hell-fire for not embracing them. Christianity does so to non-Christians. Islam does so to Christians who believe in the Trinity. And neither religion necessarily excludes eternal torment in hell. That doctrine comes from somewhere in the sacred text--either directly or through interpretation! I want to say that all religions hold that we should live a good life, so maybe we should focus on that, but then my Christian side slaps me across the face and says, "What are you talking about? Salvation is not by works! People have to believe in Christ, or they go to hell." Suddenly, Christianity looks narrow-minded and dogmatic, in that it dismisses the wisdom of non-Christian people and belief systems. And I find that other religions are attractive in areas where Christianity is not, even as Christianity appeals to me in parts where they don't. So I don't know where to go, or what to think. I'm conflicted!

Before, I could find consistency between Christianity and learning new ideas. Now, I see conflict.

There were a few exceptions, though, and they happened today. I was thinking about the Koran, and my mind turned 10:18, which states that other gods can't do people harm, or bring them gain. I thought about how people tried to please the gods, since they believed that they (the gods) could hurt them if they were not appeased. My mind then went onto Galatians and Colossians. In Galatians, Christians are doing the law to make God happy, almost like they're slaves of a harsh task-master. They're acting as they did when they were pagans, only now they're worshipping the true God! In Colossians, Christians practice asceticism out of respect for the Gnostic sub-deities. But Paul tells the Galatians that they are free sons of God, not slaves to weak and beggarly elements. In Colossians, "Paul" says the Christians don't have to please a bunch of sub-deities, since Christ is the fullness of the Godhead.

The Koran also talks a lot about relying on God in battle, not one's own strength. That's another message in Galatians! Whom do we exalt: ourselves and our own power, or God? When we try to keep the law in an attempt to earn God's approval, we act as if God's indebted to us, and we assume that we can become righteous through our own fleshly activity. We exalt ourselves. But when we receive God's free forgiveness through Christ, and we bear spiritual fruit through the Holy Spirit, the one who gets the credit and glory is God.

So the Koran actually affirmed my Christian beliefs today.

3. "Man's Nature and God's Grace," A Rabbinic Anthology, ed. C.G. Montefiore and H. Loewe (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1938) 87.

"'They that turn many to righteousness are like the stars forever' (Dan. XII, 3). As among the stars there is no enmity, so too among the righteous...Who are greater, they who love, or they who cause [others] to love Him? Surely the latter...And as the number of the stars is uncountable, so is the number of the righteous uncountable...(Sifre Deut., 'Ekeb, 47, 83a (H. oo. 105, 106)"

You know, I'm ordinarily quite hostile to evangelical statements about witnessing. "You have to tell people about Jesus." "You should make people want what you have." "You should be attractive to people, since that can win them to Christ." "You need to be people's friend before you can tell them about Jesus." People who say these things make no attempt to understand those who are shy, or socially-awkward--people who have difficulty making friends. Zilch! Zero! Zack! I hope those happy-clappy evangelicals read this and become convicted to the core of their being!

But I don't feel that sort of hostility when I read Jewish statements about witnessing. I think the reason is that they talk about honoring God with one's life. There's a rabbinic story about a rabbi who returned a lost and valuable item to a Gentile, influencing the Gentile to praise the God of Israel. "This Jew could have made money off of this, but he returned it to me!," he thought. One does not have to engage in manipulative apologetics, or be something one's not. Rather, one can do everyday acts of kindness: smile to someone, give to the poor, return a lost item, etc. I've done some of those things, and I'm not Mr. Popularity! One doesn't have to be popular in order to witness.

Jews acknowledged the sovereignty of God when they prayed, or kept the Sabbath, or refrained from unclean meats. By doing the Torah, they were confessing to the world their belief in God's supremacy.

Yet, this rabbinic passage doesn't talk about God's supremacy. It mentions influencing others to love God. The rabbis saw God as good, humble, and loving--as tough, yet fair. Who wouldn't want others to love this sort of God?

But the Daniel passage talks about turning people to righteousness. Some of my relatives are practically universalists, so they don't see any point in launching a major work to convert people to Armstrongism. In their eyes, most people won't convert to it anyway! "But you can be a preacher of righteousness," they say. I'm not sure if I agree with them on universalism, but who doesn't like righteousness? Wouldn't it be great for everyone if people simply did the right thing?

The rabbinic passage also states that there are a lot of righteous people out there. I'd like to think that the majority of people are good-at-heart, and, indeed, there is a good side to them. But the Bible asserts that most people are bad. God only saved eight people when he sent the flood. Jesus said that few would follow the righteous path, which is straight and narrow (Matthew 7:14).

On my Christian dating site, a gentleman once said he believed that there will be more saved people than unsaved at the last judgment. (Believe it or not, this guy's as die-hard conservative as you can get!) I admire his belief in God's unbounded generosity towards all his creation. But the Bible doesn't exactly present that picture, at least not as my friend conceives it. Sure, it says that there will be a great multitude in heaven (Revelation 7:9), but, overall, it has a scenario in which the righteous are very few, amidst a world that's predominantly evil. So I'd like to agree with my friend, but, alas, the Bible points in another direction!

Food This Sabbath

I went to church this morning--a Seventh-Day Adventist one. I've not visited one of those in a few years. Churches in general can be pretty cold. People just shake your hand, then they walk away. And that was true of this one as well. One thing I liked about it, however, is that the pastor stood at the doorway and shook people's hands after the service. That's important! And I don't see it at that many churches. A lot of times, pastors look at me like I'm some kind of freak! At least this one invited me out to lunch.

I declined his invitation for a few reasons. One is that the church service took up all of my morning, so I wanted the afternoon for myself. Another is that the lunch was not within walking distance of my apartment, and I didn't want to rely on someone else for my escape route. A third reason was my social anxiety. And a fourth reason is a fear I have of Seventh-Day Adventists--that they will make me their project and try to convert me. When I visited an SDA church in New York, a woman said about me to someone else, "He is a searcher" (wink, wink), which to me meant, "This guy's now our official project for conversion." But I didn't tell the pastor all of these reasons today. I just said I needed to get home.

The sermon was all right. It was about Mary being afraid when Gabriel spoke to her. Personally, I thought she was afraid because seeing an angel is scary, but the pastor listed a bunch of other reasons: she was afraid she'd have a bad reputation as a loose woman, etc. He said that we don't have to fear the consequences of following God, which may relate to some people, since he mentioned those he knows who've suffered for doing the right thing at work. But it didn't relate to me all that much, since I'm not sure if I serve God these days, or even what service to God means.

The pastor also said that the only way to overcome fear is to have Jesus in your heart. But how do I know if Jesus is in my heart? I said the sinner's prayer years ago, but I still have my phobias. Part of me dislikes it when Christians act like Jesus is the answer to everything. Does that mean Jesus isn't doing his job when Christians see a need to take medications for anxiety or depression? At the same time, strangely enough, the sermon gave me a sense of inner peace and contemplation. I'm not sure why or how, but at least it got me thinking about the issue of Jesus in my heart.

One thought I had on the walk home was this: my church background did not exactly promote assurance of salvation. Garner Ted Armstrong always liked to tell the story of the Ambassador College student who was asked point-blank by his professor, "Do you have the Holy Spirit?" The student stumbled around and finally exclaimed, "I don't know!" Ted said that a better answer would have been "I hope so."

But why couldn't the student have just answered "yes"? It's not pride for a Christian to say that he has the Spirit of the living God inside of him. Paul said that Christ lived in him (Galatians 2:20). He told the Philippians that God was at work in them (Philippians 2:13). Ephesians 1:13 states that believers have been sealed with the promised Holy Spirit. Why couldn't the student have unashamedly answered "yes"--not "I don't know," not "I hope so"? Is it pride to trust God and take him at his word?

As far as James Pate goes, though, my answer pretty much is "I don't know." There's a lot of darkness inside of me, believe it or not!

When I got home, I listened to an excellent sermon by Elisabeth Elliott for my I Samuel quiet time. It's called A Contest of Wills. Her thesis was that God loves us and wants the best for us, whether that corresponds with what we want or not. She also said that God is not so interested in answering our questions as in our holiness--our becoming like Christ. I've heard this stuff before, and I doubt it will convince my non-Christian readers, who have also heard this stuff before.

But there's something magical about it when it comes out of the lips of Elisabeth Elliott. For one, she sounds like a real person, not a happy-clappy evangelical. Whenever I've listened to her, she's always struck me as rather aloof and cold, yet with a wry outlook on things (somewhat like Tim Keller). She's an introvert and a very organized person, but that's not a turn-off at all, for it may be what leads her to speak her convictions with thoughtfulness. Plus, the issue of theodicy is not an abstraction for her, since one of her husbands was murdered, and another died of health problems.

So I was really blessed listening to her this Sabbath, and perhaps some of you will be, too.

Antichrist, Authoritarianism, Lilith

It's almost the Sabbath, so I don't have time to write long posts about my readings. Plus, I'm tired. So I'm going to do three posts in one:

1. Source: Devorah Dimant, "Qumran Sectarian Literature," Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period, ed. Michael E. Stone (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984) 518.

Dimant refers to 4QTestimonia at Qumran, which discusses a "son of Belial" who may represent "an early Jewish version of the idea of the Antichrist, i.e. the wicked opponent of the Messiah at the threshold of the end of days."

That would make a good paper topic: the Antichrist in Judaism. And Judaism does have such a concept. In the Jewish Encyclopedia article on "Antichrist," we read: "Thus Eliezer b. Hyrcanus—an eye-witness of the national catastrophe in the year 70—speaks only of a ruler after the style of Haman, who will usher in the pangs of the Messianic period (; Sanh. 98b)" (see here). The Jewish Encyclopedia also labels the tribe of Dan a Type of Antichrist. Maybe that's why Dan got omitted in Revelation's list of the 144,000 (Revelation 7:4-8): there were Jewish traditions that bad-mouthed the tribe!

2. Source: Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume II: Ante-Nicene Christianity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1910) 160-161.

"The celebrated Hippolytus, in the beginning of the third century, was a decided antagonist of the Roman [bishop] Callistus...Nevertheless we learn from his work called Philosophumena, that at that time the Roman bishop already claimed an absolute power within his own jurisdiction; and that Callistus, to the great grief of part of the presbytery, laid down the principle that a bishop can never be deposed or compelled to resign by the presbytery, even though he have committed a mortal sin."

Schaff is discussing the rise of the papacy, so this quote is a small part of a much larger discussion. I don't know if he thinks the church recognized Callistus' right to insulate bad bishops from removal, or if the Catholic church follows such a policy today. That's my problem with placing too much authority in a human institution: human institutions can be corrupt. But they also have a sense of right and wrong, so perhaps the church today does have a system to discipline its leaders.

What's the Bible stance on this? In the New Testament, particularly the pastoral epistles (I-II Timothy and Titus), there are high moral and spiritual standards for leaders of the church. Matthew 18 outlines a system of accountability, by which unrepentant sinners are disfellowshipped. Paul discusses this in I Corinthians, where he talks about the man who lived with his father's wife (see I Corinthians 5).

As far as the Old Testament goes, I don't know. We know that God disapproved of the immorality of Israel's priesthood. But God was the one who removed Eli, not the Israelite people. One might conclude that the Armstrongite "let God work the leadership abuses out, laypeople--you just pray and pay your tithes" was the Old Testament attitude.

At the same time, when the issue is monarchy, the Old Testament is mixed. When Gideon's son, Abimelech, tried to establish his own personal tyranny over Israel, his brother boldly opposed him. Jeroboam led a tax revolt against King Rehoboam, the son of Solomon. These are examples of resistance to authority. On the other hand, David always had respect for Saul. Even when Saul was trying to kill him, David honored the Lord's anointed.

3. Jacob Neusner, Judaism's Story of Creation: Scripture, Halakhah, Aggadah (Boston: Brill, 2000) 8.

That's right--I finished volume II of Graetz. It was fun! Now, for my rabbinics reading, I'll be turning to Neusner's book on creation.

Here's something from one of his footnotes:

"We need not enter the matter of the documentary hypothesis to recognize that different modes of expression characterize different sections of the Pentateuch; of these differences the sages themselves are entirely cognizant."

The issue is this: in the Pentateuch, there are apparent contradictions. In Genesis 1, God makes animals before humans. In Genesis 2, he makes humans before animals. Scholars today account for these differences by dividing the Pentateuch into different sources. For a while, the dominant division was J, E, P, and D. Under this model, J was the Yahwist, a writer from Judah, probably in David's time. E was the Elohist, who lived in Northern Israel. P was the priest, who wrote during the exile. And D was the Deuteronomist, who lived in the time of Josiah and in the time of exile (meaning there were two Deuteronomists).

Today, things aren't so clear-cut. For one, scholars disagree on the dates of these authors. John van Seters places J in the time of the exile. Yehezkel Kaufmann dated P to the pre-exilic period. And David Carr doesn't even think there was an E.

Second, there are scholars who maintain that you can divide these sources into even more sources. That's how we can have a P20 (or something like that). Third, some scholars have other ideas as to how the Pentateuch came to be in its present form. There's the supplementary hypothesis, which says there was an overarching narrative that other authors added their two-cents to. And, fourth, there are scholars who think you can't really tell who wrote what.

What always gets on my nerves is how some people talk about the documentary hypothesis, and act like they're so smart because they know about it. Their tone is, "Let me enlighten you--the Pentateuch is composed of four sources..." Underneath that smugness is a contempt for those who believe in more traditional ideas about the Pentateuch--like the one that says God revealed it to Moses.

But Neusner does well to point out that the ancients were not stupid. Before the Enlightenment, readers were able to see that the Bible had contradictions. They just handled them differently than moderns do. They tried to reconcile them. And maybe they had other ways of dealing with them. I don't know. The ancients never cease to surprise me!

For example, Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 have different stories about God's creation of man and woman. Many scholars assert that P wrote Genesis 1, whereas J wrote Genesis 2. But a rabbi in the rabbinic period had a different explanation: Genesis 1 describes the creation of Adam's first wife, Lilith, who refused to obey her husband. As a result, God took Lilith away from Adam and gave him the more docile Eve, who appears in Genesis 2.

That's one way they explained tension in the text. I wonder what other ways there are.

Samuel the Non-Aaronite

Source: Jacob Lauterbach's introduction in Mekilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1933) xiii.

"Tradition reports such an activity of studying and interpreting the Torah and of diligently searching out its full meaning and all its implications, even in pre-exilic times. Thus, the prophet Samuel is supposed to have interpreted the passage in Lev. 1.3 as implying that the slaughter of the sacrificial animals may be performed by a layman, i.e., a non-priest."

I remember reading Leviticus 1:3-5 for my daily quiet time, and I noticed it said that the worshipper is the one who slaughters the animal. I read a while back that this is one view in the Torah, since there are passages in which the priest kills it. But I don't remember where I read that.

I wonder if the rabbi was trying to explain how a non-priest like Samuel could be offering sacrifices. I Chronicles 6 says that Samuel was descended from Kohath, which means he was a priest. But, as far as I know, the Kohathites were not the ones who actually sacrificed the animals, since Leviticus 1 presents the sons of Aaron doing that. Aaron was a descendant of Kohath, but Samuel was not from the line of Aaron. The Kohathites not from the line of Aaron were responsible for covering certain holy objects while moving them (Numbers 4). I've read commentators who contend that the Chronicler tried to tie Samuel to a priestly line to explain how he could be offering sacrifices. If that were its goal, why didn't it tie Samuel to Aaron?

Also, while I've not read the rabbis' argument, I find it somewhat weak. Sure, the worshipper killed the animal, but the Aaronite priests were the ones who offered it. The problem of Samuel the non-Aaronite priest doing so remains just that--a problem.

An Addendum on God Working Things Out

For my weekly quiet time, I listened to a sermon by Bob Davis on 1 Samuel 3. He said that, when he asks those who are truly close to the Lord if God ever failed them, they answered "no" without hesitation.

At first, I didn't like this statement. It's not really falsifiable, since Davis can easily say that those who feel God failed them are not really close to God. And I'm sure he can pick out spots in anyone's life where that person is lacking in righteousness. But Davis then went on to say that those who are truly close to God admit that life is hard. Some will even say that they've gone hungry at times.

What is the source of this kind of faith: to refuse to hate God, even when things are going badly? Is it that God works things out in the end? Or that they admire and love God, regardless of their experiences? Or what exactly?

Feast of Tabernacles 2008

Today is the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles. If you want to read my reflections on last year's feast, see Feast of Tabernacles 2007.

The first day of the Feast of Tabernacles is a Sabbath. Ordinarily, I do a weekly quiet time on Sabbath days. For my current one, I'm in I Samuel. I study a chapter, which includes listening to sermons about it, reading the Hebrew and Greek, and perusing Christian, Jewish, and historical-critical commentaries. At the end, I pray about what I studied. This sounds like a lot to accomplish, but I do much of it simultaneously. For example, I may read John Gill while I listen to Jake's hero, Chuck Missler. And I also do leisurely things as I study. I may play Pac-Man while listening to Jon Courson, or watch the Waltons while reading Matthew Henry.

Today, I wasn't really up to this. The weather is beautiful outside, and I wanted to enjoy it while the autumn is still here. Winter is coming, and I won't be able to relish the outdoors at that time! So what did I do? I did a few chapters for my daily quiet time, which I can do while I'm walking. That's not always the most productive way to do it, since my mind can easily degenerate into stinkin-thinkin! But I take my Bible with me to remind myself what the chapter is about. And I've started jotting down notes to jolt my memory.

This practice is especially appropriate right now because I'm reading Ben Sira, also known as Sirach and Ecclesiasticus. Reading Ben Sira is like reading Proverbs. When I was at Jewish Theological Seminary, I was doing Proverbs for my daily quiet time (among other books). It could be frustrating, for the author discussed various subjects in a given chapter, and I didn't always remember all of his topics while I was walking to school (which was my prayer time). That's why I'm trying not to make the same mistake with Ben Sira!

Today, my Ben Sira quiet times were pretty good. I did a few of them for the past couple of days, and they can be stressful, let me tell you! I feel like I have to comment on all the ramifications of what he's saying. And he contradicts himself a lot. Do you hang around with the rich and powerful, or do you not? Do you show your wisdom when you are poor, or do you hold your tongue? Following Ben Sira would be a hard task, since I'd feel like I was making a wrong step wherever I turned! But I was a little more laid back today. I looked at the chapter and summarized what it was saying, then I focused on the points that especially spoke to me. Right now, what's on my mind from my Ben Sira quiet times are two points: (1.) Don't rely on dreams as much as the Torah, wisdom, and God for divine revelation and (in turn) hope, and (2.) What's the point of becoming clean, when you'll go back out and become dirty all over again?

The second point is understandable, but I don't know how to apply it in every area of my life. I ask God to forgive sins that I have no intention of forsaking (e.g., lusting after women). Why do I ask God for forgiveness? Because I want him in my life! I want to be blessed! I want to know that someone is looking out for me. But I feel like I have to appease him and wipe my slate clean on a continual basis, even when I'm not repentant. It's like I recognize a rule, but it doesn't make sense to me, so I have a hard time beating myself up when I break it. Does that make any sense?

I ate at a cheap Italian restaurant. I can't say much for the service, since the hot waitresses never offered me a refill on my drink. But the food was good. And maybe it's nice not to go there too often, since I'm rather strapped for funds.

I took some leftovers, and I noticed a homeless lady standing outside. I gave her my leftovers. Am I saying this to brag? Partly. But I think there's a lesson in this experience. I usually feel bad when I see this lady standing outside, since I don't buy her a sandwich. But, these days, I only have money to buy myself lunch, not someone else's. Today, however, I had something to give. I realized that I had plenty of food at home, so I could give my leftovers to someone who'd really appreciate them. That reminds me of what John the Baptist said in Luke 3:11: "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise" (NRSV). We give from what we have, not from what we don't have.

At the same time, I should place all of this in perspective before I pat myself on the back. For one, sure, I gave her food for today. But what will happen to her tomorrow and the next day? I did well to give her relief for a little bit of time, but, in the grand scheme of things, that's not really enough. But it's still something.

Second, even homeless people want to be treated with dignity. She asked me if I had eaten off of the food, and I said no. You'd expect her to be happy with whatever she got, but she's like everyone else: she doesn't want people's germs! I told her to enjoy the food, and she said thanks in a cold, abrupt manner, though she was really appreciative when I first asked her if she wanted some wings and bread. I'm not sure if there was unintentional sarcasm in my voice when I told her to enjoy her food--meaning that I didn't intend to be sarcastic, but that's how I came across. Ben Sira says that coming across as a reluctant giver is a bad thing. Oh well! Ben Sira seems to be like a lot of Christians, who think that if you don't do something perfectly, then you'd might as well not do it. That's hogwash! If that were true, then no one would do anything, including those who believe this way (but, then again, they probably see themselves as perfect, so there goes that!).

What will I do for the rest of the day? I may call some of my family. There's a book on Asperger's and employment that I want to look at. I have to find my fourth step worksheet for Alcoholics Anonymous. I need to watch a few episodes of the Waltons to free up a couple of hours on the video-tape, so I can tape the Waltons tomorrow morning. And Eli Stone's season premier is tonight! We'll have another season of leftist politics with a religious twist.

But today is a day to enjoy myself. And, whatever this post may communicate, I did precisely that!

Can We Benefit from Oppression?

For my weekly quiet time yesterday, I read I Samuel 2. In it, Eli's priestly sons take the best part of the sacrifices for themselves, when they should be leaving it for God. They also force people to hand over their animals.

When Eli learns that his sons are sleeping with the tabernacle-women, he excoriates them, warning them that sinning against God does not bring good results. God later sends a man to rebuke Eli and to prophesy doom for Eli's priestly line. v 29 is intriguing. The man says to Eli:

"Why then look with greedy eye at my sacrifices and my offerings that I commanded, and honor your sons more than me by fattening yourselves on the choicest parts of every offering of my people Israel?" (NRSV).

John Gill takes this to mean that Eli ate the food that his sons stole from God and the Israelites. That's why he was so fat, Gill reasons (I Samuel 4:18)! And it is interesting that Eli doesn't criticize his sons for stealing food; rather, he seems to focus on sex.

This brings up the whole issue of whether or not it's right to benefit from oppression. At Harvard, an African-American friend was trying to paint me as an oppressor because I was white. He said that I benefit from the years of free labor that African-Americans performed as slaves. His contention was that profiting from oppression is just as bad as committing it.

I have a problem with such a mind-set, since how exactly would I avoid profiting from oppression? Should I move to another country? Maybe I should take a vow of poverty. I'd have to remove myself from the world in order not to profit from America's prosperity!

But the issue crops up in other areas. Should I not eat fruit that was picked by migrant workers, who get paid a small amount to do a lot of work? Should I not buy products manufactured in Chinese sweatshops? I wouldn't be surprised if most things are connected to oppression in some way, shape, or form.

Some people actually do try to avoid oppression-tainted products. When I was at Jewish Theological Seminary, one woman said she bought things that did not involve a middle-man. I know Christians and non-Christians who buy fair-trade coffee. I'm not entirely sure what that is, but I think it sells coffee that's been purchased directly from small-time growers, not from big corporations that put those growers out of business.

I can sympathize with people who try to promote justice in their day-to-day lives. In the case of Eli, however, his problem was closer to him: he could have limited himself to the meat that was the priest's due, but he chose to eat the stolen parts as well. He didn't have to take himself out of the world to make a statement against oppression!

What Helps Me Love My Enemies...

Here are some thoughts that help me to love my enemies:

1. I do a weekly quiet time on holy days and weekly Sabbaths. Yesterday, on the Day of Atonement, I studied I Samuel 1. The Encyclopedia Judaica's article on Peninnah says the following about Elkanah's wife Peninnah, who had lots of children and taunted Elkanah's childless wife, Hannah:

"[Peninnah] was...ultimately punished. Two of her children died whenever Hannah gave birth; and she thus witnessed the death of eight of her ten children. The last two were spared solely as a result of Hannah's intercession with the Almighty on her behalf (PR, ibid., 182a).

That's horrible! Whenever Hanna had a child, two of Peninnah's kids died. There are plenty of people I can't stand, but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!

Isn't that what forgiveness is, in part? Freeing our enemies from punishment?

2. As I was fasting yesterday, some hateful thoughts entered my mind. I can be pretty mean when I'm hungry! But my hunger reminded me that I share something with the rest of humanity: I need to eat to survive. And the same is true of my enemies. That insight tended to make them more vulnerable and human in my eyes, so I didn't hate them as much at that moment. But it also made me look more human. I often see myself as righteous, and my enemies as sub-human sinners. Not so! We're all human beings, with the same needs.

I encountered the same idea this morning, when I read Sirach 8:4-7:

"Do not make fun of one who is ill-bred, or your ancestors may be insulted. Do not reproach one who is turning away from sin; remember that we all deserve punishment. Do not disdain one who is old, for some of us are also growing old. Do not rejoice over any one's death; remember that we must all die."

We're all human! We sin, we grow old, and we die. So who are we to look down on someone else? We can hope that the other person chooses a better path, but we shouldn't vaunt ourselves, as if we're superior. All of us are vulnerable.

Is David a Copycat?

I'm reading Thomas Thompson's The Messiah Myth: The Near Eastern Roots of Jesus and David (Cambridge: Basic Books, 2005) . Thompson is a minimalist, which means he doesn't believe most of the Bible is historical. Well, one of his arguments in The Messiah Myth is that the ancient Near East has longstanding traditions of a king who goes into exile, returns to challenge the oppressive reigning king, and sets up a paradise that lifts up the poor. When I read I-II Samuel for my quiet time at Harvard, I wondered if the ancient Near East had stories of a king who went through trials before he ascended the throne, the sort of thing we find with David. Now that I see parallels, I wonder why such stories exist. I mean, I have my own theological/religious answer: God puts people in trials to teach them character and prepare them for their divinely-appointed task. Did others (non-Israelites) in the ancient Near East believe this?

Many believers may have a problem with what Thompson says because it presents the Hebrew Bible as a copycat book. But, personally, my access to such motifs comes through my contact with the Hebrew Bible, which God has seen fit to preserve. So the David story is still special to me, even if other cultures have a similar story. I mean, why should I care what a Moabite king went through? But David started off the dynasty that led to Jesus Christ, and that does matter to me.

Thompson's big point is that the David story (and, going further, the Jesus one) is not historical because it appears so story-like. I think that a minimalist sentiment is that real life is not like a story or a movie, since it is not quite so neat. Actually, that may be a scholarly sentiment in general, not just a minimalist one. But who's to say that stories can't be real, in some way, shape, or form? Real life has good people and bad people, and there are times when the good triumph, as occurs in many stories.

I had another question when I did my I Samuel quiet time years ago: Did the ancient Near East offer negative images of good kings? With David, we see a picture that is not always rosy. I know how some scholars try to explain that: The David court is trying to defend David against detractors and thus acknowledges some of their claims, yet puts a spin on them (Baruch Halpern). Or the criticisms of David are from a post-exilic, anti-Messianic strain of thought (John van Seters). And Christians who read the text devotionally say it shows that the Bible is hard on its heroes, demonstrating that even the best of us sin and fall short of God's glory. But I wonder if other cultures were hard on their heroes, and, if so, why?