Goodman on the Noachide Laws

I finished Martin Goodman's Mission and Conversion. What I'll focus on in this post is the Noachide laws, the seven commandments that parts of rabbinic Judaism held were binding on Gentiles (whereas Jews had to keep the entire Torah).

In Babylonian Talmud Bava Kamma 38a, we see the assumption that most Gentiles did not obey the seven Noachide commandments, and Rabbi Joseph in Babylonian Talmud Avodah Zarah 2b goes so far as to say that the Gentiles "were so incapable of keeping the laws that they were released from them" (Goodman's words on page 115). While Rabbi Joshua b. Hananiah affirmed in Tosefta Sanhedrin 13.2 that "the righteous of all nations have a share in the world to come" (Rabbi Joshua's words), presumably by keeping the Noachide laws, Rabbi Judah in Tosefta Sotah 8:6 states that all of the Gentiles knew of the Torah in their own language and ignored it, and so they deserved to go to hell. Rabbi Judah's opinion implies that Gentiles were somehow obligated to the Torah. And, in Babylonian Talmud Hullin 13b, an opinion attributed to Rabbi Hiyya b. Abba in the name of Rabbi Yohanan says that Gentiles outside of the land of Israel are technically not idolaters but merely follow their own ancestral customs. According to Goodman, this "seems to imply that such gentiles should be allowed to practise paganism as long as they are outside the holy land" (page 119). And so there was some diversity within rabbinic Judaism on the Noachide laws.

On page 151, Goodman refers to the view that belief in the Noachide laws developed after Hadrian in the first century C.E. prohibited circumcision, as a way for the Jews to say that Gentiles could be saved apart from the ritual of circumcision. Goodman disagrees with this view because he thinks that state opposition should have stimulated missionary zeal among Jews rather than dampen it. But the view (which Goodman attributes to William Braude and J. Juster) does intrigue me because I wonder why Jews under Hadrian would want to show that Gentiles could be saved apart from converting to Judaism. Was it to convince others that Jews were not xenophobic, as they were often accused of being? Was it to garner support from Gentiles in a time when they (the Jews) were vulnerable?

David Marshall: "Son of Heaven"

I have three items for my write-up today on Chapter 5 of David Marshall’s True Son of Heaven: How Jesus Fulfills the Chinese Culture. Chapter 5 is entitled “Son of Heaven”.

1. On page 55, Marshall states: “Lao Tse wrote that he who was ‘without thought of self’ would be able to ‘accomplish his private ends.’ Chinese history is full of notable examples. Confucius passed up official posts to remain untainted. In the shadow of Qin’s burial mound, Han Wei founded the great Han Dynasty by listening to people and avoiding pretense of god-hood. Nationalist founder Sun Yat-Sen won a revolution but in the interest of peace, allowed his rival to rule. In the Gospels we find evidence that God had the same idea: that Absolute Power could accomplish great things in the guise of weakness.”

The impression that I have gotten from what I have read so far of Marshall is that he believes that the positive moral elements of the Bible constitute evidence for its divine-inspiration (albeit not the only evidence). But how can one say that, when people in non-Christian cultures and religions are able to arrive at the insight that (say) humility is good, an insight that conflicts with people’s tendency to exalt and to benefit themselves? I’m open to saying that God is able to instruct people throughout the earth, in all sorts of cultures. Marshall argues this, on some level, when he presents Christianity as ingrained within all people, explaining the presence of Christian-like themes in different cultures. I personally am not going that far, however. I’m just acknowledging that God may illuminate people throughout the world about certain moral principles.

I guess my problem is with an apologetic argument that a specific religion (Christianity) is from God and is authoritative because it has good principles. Even if Christianity takes good principles further than other religions do, I think that an atheist can easily make the argument that Christians are arriving at moral insights on their own, without divine revelation. As I’ve said, I’m open to the concept of divine illumination, but my problem with Christian apologetics is that there is often a variety of ways to interpret so-called evidence, and not all of those ways support Christianity being the one authoritative religion.

2. In my post here, I mentioned some of the inadequacies that David Marshall believes are present in Confucianism, weaknesses that (according to him) Christianity does not have. I forgot to mention one inadequacy, which Marshall discusses on pages 59-60. Confucius said that, if you’re a government official, and you learn that your son has been embezzling funds, then you should bend the rules for your son’s sake. There’s much to admire about such grace and loyalty to family. But, as Marshall points out, this outlook has caused problems, such as nepotism. Emperor Qin went the other direction, according to Marshall, when he elevated rules over relationships, as he “made public office a prize to be won through diligence rather than birth.” Marshall can see strengths and weaknesses in both perspectives. Marshall believes, however, that “this conflict disappears” for followers of Jesus, who base their roles on the love of God that fills them, and who feel free to rebel when human authority goes too far.

I guess my issue here is with Marshall’s implication that Christianity makes ambiguity go away, in terms of the issue of justice and mercy. I don’t think that it does. For one, the question of when people should receive mercy and when they should get justice—-and how to balance mercy and justice—-is not always cut-and-dry, even from a Christian perspective. In my opinion, if a son of a Christian official embezzled funds, that official probably wouldn’t want for his son to go to jail, since that would result in the son having a record that could impact the rest of his life, the son facing threats in jail, etc. And yet, the official would desire for his son to learn that certain things are wrong, and he’d fear that the son facing no consequences at all would not help him in the long run. What should the official do? It’s complex. Christianity may offer some principles as guidelines, but it doesn’t make ambiguity go completely away.

Second, I can understand why Marshall believes that Christianity is a revolutionary religion, a religion that promotes rebellion against authoritarianism. After all, Jesus overturned tables in the temple, as Marshall notes more than once. At the same time, Marshall should at least wrestle with the fact that prominent strands of Christianity have historically promoted submission to unjust authorities, on the basis of such passages as Romans 13. John MacArthur is not getting his idea that the American Revolution was a bad idea out of the clear blue sky! He’s drawing from an influential Christian tradition.

3. On page 60, Marshall states: “It’s one thing for a leader to call himself ‘lord’ from a palace surrounded by walls and bodyguards…But suppose a rebel should march openly into the capital. Suppose his followers shout praises to God for the ‘new order’ he brings. Suppose only a band of weak-kneed fishermen and a couple rusty swords stand between him and the Emperor. Imagine, to top it off, he won’t let his side fight. What can you say about a revolutionary like that? Either he is a fool. Or he has a plan.”

Marshall may be expressing his admiration for Jesus here, or he may be making an apologetic argument—-that Jesus would only do something that weird if he was who he said he was. Perhaps it’s both. Can I think of another explanation for why Jesus would rebel and not even allow his disciples to fight—-as if Jesus had a death-wish? Why would any rational person—-especially someone who imparted wise teachings—-do such a thing? Perhaps Jesus did indeed expect for his death to accomplish something in terms of the imminent kingdom of God. Scholars have debated this, but there are some, such as Albert Schweitzer (if I’m not mistaken), who maintained that Jesus had a purpose behind proceeding towards his death. But does that mean Jesus was right? There are many people who die for causes. That doesn’t mean that their causes are divinely-authoritative.

At the same time, I would like to believe in a silver lining: that Jesus accomplished something with his death. I have problems with that being mixed up with Christian exclusivism, but perhaps I can believe that Jesus’ death was redemptive, on some level, without being the sort of person who believes that people have to believe one way in this life to avoid going to hell.

Unless (Blah Blah Blah), You've Not Experienced God

Yesterday, in Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest, I read the following (see here):

“The only possible way to have full understanding of the teachings of Jesus is through the light of the Spirit of God shining inside us. If we have never had the experience of taking our casual, religious shoes off our casual, religious feet— getting rid of all the excessive informality with which we approach God— it is questionable whether we have ever stood in His presence. The people who are flippant and disrespectful in their approach to God are those who have never been introduced to Jesus Christ. Only after the amazing delight and liberty of realizing what Jesus Christ does, comes the impenetrable ‘darkness’ of realizing who He is. Jesus said, ‘The words that I speak to you are spirit, and they are life’ (John 6:63). Once, the Bible was just so many words to us — ‘clouds and darkness’— then, suddenly, the words become spirit and life because Jesus re-speaks them to us when our circumstances make the words new.”

I have a variety of reactions to this, all of them negative.

First of all, I get sick of reading or hearing Christians say (and I paraphrase), “If such-and-such is not true in your life, then you obviously have not met God, or Jesus Christ.” In Chambers’ case, it’s approaching God with respect and reverence rather than informally and flippantly. I once heard another preacher say that, if we’re not extemporaneously thanking God for every beautiful thing we see in life, then we’re probably not in Christ. But why exactly is that my fault? I said the sinner’s prayer years ago. If I have not had a genuine encounter with God, isn’t that on God and not on me?

It also interests me that people have different ideas about how to approach God. Some say we should do so with reverence and with respect, not informally. Others, by contrast, say that we can freely talk to God as if God is a friend. Both make dogmatic claims that they have experienced God. Both, at times, make judgments about whether or not other people have truly experienced God. But who are they to judge others, when they can’t even agree on what constitutes evidence for a true spiritual experience?

Second, what Chambers says about Jesus’ words making sense to us once Jesus re-speaks them to us in our situations reminds me of a conversation I had with an evangelical Christian not long ago. He said that he truly began to understand the Bible after he accepted Jesus into his heart, and that those who do not know Christ do not understand spiritual things. Now, I’m not suggesting that this gentleman does not understand the Bible. He has been trained in biblical exegesis, and so he is able to make a reasonable and cogent interpretation of biblical passages. But, in my opinion, he understands the Bible insofar as he practices principles of biblical exegesis. Reading the Bible and believing that it conforms to some grand evangelical narrative that evangelicals are projecting onto the text at the outset does not strike me as understanding the Bible. Sure, once my friend became a Christian, he received a worldview that made sense to him, but that is not the same as understanding the Bible—-in terms of its diversity, its interaction with historical circumstances, the original meanings of its writings, etc.

But do I believe that God can make the text come alive to us in a way that’s enlightening and applicable? I believe so. That doesn’t happen all too often with me. But, while an a-ha experience is good, I don’t think that I have to have that to read the Bible and to find wisdom for my life. Also, regardless of what Chambers or anyone else says, God loves me, whether or not I have some dramatic encounter with him.

Beginning Goodman's Mission and Conversion

I started Martin Goodman's Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire. Goodman's argument so far is that Jews before 100 C.E. did not have an agenda of seeking to convert Gentiles to Judaism. But does not Matthew 23:15 say that the Pharisees go about sea and land to make one proselyte? According to Goodman, that passage is referring to Pharisaic attempts to convert fellow Jews to Pharisaism, not their efforts to convert Gentiles. Goodman acknowledges that there were Gentiles who converted to Judaism, but there was ambiguity within Judaism about whether or not they were considered fellow Israelites as a result of their conversion.

Goodman surveys Jewish literature and concludes that Judaism before 100 C.E. largely believed that idolatry was stupid, but not prohibited to Gentiles. There were some strands (such as the Septuagint) which even encouraged the Jews to respect the names of Gentile gods. An exception would be the Wisdom of Solomon, which lambastes Egyptian idolatry. While there was a hope that Gentiles would convert to the worship of the God of Israel in the eschaton, they were not expected to do so in the present day and age. On pages 60-61, Goodman acknowledges that Jews may have even considered themselves "religious mentors" to Gentiles, as the Jews encouraged the Gentiles to admire the Jewish way of life, respect the Jewish God, and be ethical. But Goodman says that this is not "an impulse to draw non-Jews into Judaism in the present."

Goodman also does not think that the Jews' pagan contemporaries sought converts. While the Romans encouraged the imperial cult within the empire, they did not have a mission outside of its borders to win converts. And the Cynics were rather exclusivist.

There were a couple of interesting items in my reading. First, on page 24, Goodman mentions Plutarch's dismissal of the belief of Euhemerus that the gods were "ancient humans, deified by a grateful posterity for their great deeds". This reminded me of the Wisdom of Solomon's attempts to account for the origins of idolatry. Second, on page 54, Goodman states that Gentiles embracing monotheism would have had to leave Gentile society. I think this is because polytheism was an integral part of that society, even if there were Gentile thinkers who gravitated towards a monotheistic notion of the divine (without, of course, feeling that they must abstain from the public worship of the gods). Third, I appreciated Goodman's discussion about intimacy on page 25: "As in human friendships, not many people can strike up a close friendship with everyone they meet. Most people will remain neutral or mildly benevolent towards those with whom they have no time to forge a firmer bond."

Ron Paul on Racism; Mark Driscoll on Marriage

I’d like to share a couple of links:

1. Here is a YouTube video, “Busted! Ron Paul racist rant caught on tape!”

The title of the video is ironic because the video goes on to show that Ron Paul passionately stands up for African-Americans. He opposes the war on drugs and favors treatment for addiction instead, one reason being that the war on drugs has disproportionately targeted minorities, when there are whites who have addiction problems, too. Paul also opposes the federal death penalty because it, too, tends to target minorities. And Paul affirms that racism is actually inconsistent with libertarianism, which treats people as individuals rather than as groups.

I can see Paul’s points, here, and I appreciate his concern for minority issues. I may vote for him in the primaries. But I’d have a hard time having him as President because I do not believe that libertarianism will help the vulnerable. I think, for example, that the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was a good idea—-all of it—-for people are not always going to do the right, fair thing on their own. I also cringe at Ron Paul’s opposition to laws against sexual harassment (see here). I can see his point that, say, telling a crude joke in the workplace should not be made into a federal case. But I also think that a woman should be able to take legal action if her employer is making her employment or professional advancement contingent on having sex with him. Paul’s statement that the woman should seek employment elsewhere if she does not like her current job-environment strikes me as insensitive. It does not consider the difficulty of finding a job, as well as women’s vulnerability, as they seek to maintain their personal dignity while also feeding their families. So, in my opinion, Ron Paul is a mixed bag when it comes to understanding the plight of the vulnerable.

2. Rachel Held Evans reviews Mark Driscoll’s Real Marriage. I have not read the book, but, from what I know of Driscoll, her critiques strike me as spot-on. Driscoll, for instance, has a certain conception of what being a real man is, and he seems to look down on those who do not fit that mold. I also agree with Rachel that the Christian conservative teaching that women should submit to their husbands is a one-sided reading of Scripture, for Esther did not blindly obey her husband when she appeared before him at risk of death. But, like Rachel, I appreciate Driscoll for saying that husbands and wives should be friends, and, while his admission of his personal flaws does raise the question of whether we should view our pastors as infallible oracles, I do admire his vulnerability and his willingness to grow. In my opinion, conservative evangelicalism has good and bad points: it teaches men to love, honor, and respect women, rather than seeing them as sex-objects, and it also encourages men to admit when they are wrong. Yet, that co-exists with a patriarchal mindset.

Going Out on Faith?

I don’t plan to blog through every single entry in Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest, but I’ll blog about entries whenever I feel like doing so.

In the January 2 entry, Oswald Chambers says the following:

“Have you been asking God what He is going to do? He will never tell you. God does not tell you what He is going to do— He reveals to you who He is. Do you believe in a miracle-working God, and will you ‘go out’ in complete surrender to Him until you are not surprised one iota by anything He does?…Let the attitude of your life be a continual willingness to ‘go out’ in dependence upon God, and your life will have a sacred and inexpressible charm about it that is very satisfying to Jesus.”

I like this entry better than the one yesterday (see here) because it emphasizes getting to know God for who he is, rather than trying to discern what God is supposedly doing. My problem, though, is that even this entry assumes that we can be dogmatic about what God is doing. If the idea is that I should trust God to provide for my needs, then I’m cool with that (though, of course, I would ask why there are so many people in the world whose needs do not appear to be provided for). But if the point is, say, that God may want me to be a missionary, and so I should go out on faith, then I’d have issues with that, for I’d wonder how I can even be sure that God would want me to be a missionary (and I’m just using an example here).

I’m not overly dogmatic about what God is or is not doing in my life or in the world, for I do not know. But I do try to trust that God is full of love and grace, whatever happens, and hopefully that can influence me to make good decisions that help myself and other people. That will not stop me from praying for things, but I don’t really believe that God has some grand plan for my life with which I need to be in tune. But, as I said, I hold on to God’s love and grace.

On a somewhat related note, see Bob Greaves’ post here.

Wrestling with David Marshall's Depiction of Jesus, and Conservative Evangelicalism in General

For my write-up today on David Marshall’s True Son of Heaven: How Jesus Fulfills the Chinese Culture, I’ll feature three quotes from Chapter 4, “The Tao of Revolution”, then I will ramble on about God, Jesus, and Christianity.

Page 44: “Human nature yearns for God. Even the most atheistic ideology can only disguise or pervert this drive. [James' note: Marshall often talks about how Communist nations have practically idolized or promoted the idolization of Communist leaders, such as Lenin, Stalin, Mao, etc.] Recent mass suicides and murders by cults in Tokyo, Texas and Switzerland, are extreme examples of what happens when people set the wrong altar on Mount Tai.”

Page 45: “Sometime later my friend [who was involved in the occult] felt so depressed she decided to step in front of a car. (I learned firsthand in Taiwan how common suicidal impulses are among those who do business with spirits.) At that moment a stranger came up to her and told her, ‘Don’t kill yourself. God loves you.’ She became a Christian.

“What do you do when you don’t believe in spirits, but at night your house shakes and invisible feet stomp across your hall? On my first visit to China, friends I was traveling with met a young woman with this problem. Atheist professors and Buddhist priests were unable to help her. She’d become a nervous wreck and lost many pounds. My friends prayed with her and both house and occupant found peace.”

Page 50: “Which should China choose; the Way of Loyalty, or the Way of Rebellion? She needs both. Not just two teachers who attract two different kinds of people. [James' note: Marshall's referring to Confucius, who emphasized family loyalty, and Mao, who conducted a revolution that brought a mixed-bag of reforms and terror.] She needs a sage who binds disparate strands of morality into a single thread and joins broken fragments of truth. China is looking for a leader, humble and kind like Confucius and with his integrity. She also needs a general who is bold enough to reach for Heaven: a man with fire in his soul. Somebody who stands against oppressors and says, ‘Love the weak or face the wrath of God.’ The ancient realist Hsun Tzu wrote of human nature, ‘Crooked wood needs to undergo steaming and bending by the carpenter’s tools; then only is it straight.’ Two thousand years ago in Israel a carpenter opened shop—-not to work wood or stone, but human hearts.”

Although I have critiqued Marshall’s arguments, Marshall’s depiction of Jesus still attracts me. Marshall presents Jesus as someone who was kind and compassionate, who healed others in a quiet and low-key manner and was a champion of the sick, the poor, and the marginalized. And Marshall talks about how these features of Jesus inspired his followers throughout history to care for others and to bring about reforms.

But I’d have a hard time going back to conservative evangelicalism—-with its smug attitude, its judgmentalism, its obsession with doctrinal points that strike me as irrelevant to the human condition (i.e., whether water baptism is a requirement for salvation, Calvinism, etc.), its view that its simplistic narrative and “answers” adequately take into account the complexities of life (i.e., the nature of unbelief, the struggles of homosexuals, the existence of different religions, etc.), its exclusivist tendency to look down on people who behave or live their lives differently, its marriage to the Republican Party, its discouragement of learning different facts and points-of view (which is not true of all or even most conservative evangelicals, but I have noticed a tendency towards that within conservative evangelicalism), its belief in hell for all who do not believe exactly one way, its chest-thumping support for Israel, as if God takes sides in such a complex issue, and the list goes on. I’m not just criticizing others here, mind you. I’m also criticizing the way that I was back when I was more of a conservative evangelical. And, although I dislike my current bitterness and realize that my present state is far from ideal, I do not want to go back to where I was. Even if I’m attracted to Marshall’s depiction of Jesus, Christianity has so much baggage in my mind that I fear that my attraction to this compassionate Jesus would turn out to be a mere blip on my mind’s radar.

I just gave you a list of problems I have had with conservative evangelicalism. Now I’ll list areas in which my hopes in it have been disappointed. Conservative Christianity emphasizes community, but I have a hard time fitting into groups. Christianity says that Jesus changes people, but I find that I’m the same person—-shy and introverted. I’ve gotten to the point where I feel that I have to deal with myself as I am, and to make the most out of that, rather than trusting in a god to make me something completely different and beating up on myself when that does not take place.

Do I long to worship someone? In a sense, I do. That’s why I have liked certain celebrities or politicians or characters in books, television, and movies. I wouldn’t exactly say this means that all of human nature “yearns for God”, for there are plenty of people throughout the world who do not worship the God of the Bible, Judaism, and Christianity, either because they’re atheists, or they have a depersonalized depiction of God, or they equate God with the cosmos, etc. But I believe that, for me personally, I need to look to a power greater than myself. I’ve been told all of my life that the object of my adoration should be God, but, to be honest, I never really understood why that particular being should receive my admiration or adoration. God seems at times to be too distant or abstract to me. Threatening me with hell or punishment does not increase my adoration for God. Perhaps I can focus on the compassion and humility of Jesus, but, to be honest, there are times when Jesus in the Gospels strikes me as an apocalyptic, my-way-or-the-highway, know-it-all, conditionally-loving psychopath. It’s hard for me to “adore” God, per se. But perhaps my faith needs to be destroyed for it to be reborn. Maybe there is garbage in my previous depictions of God that needs to go, and I can then embrace God in a more positive, healthy way.

Marshall’s stories about spirits stood out to me because I have long admired Jesus’ authority over unclean spirits. It makes me feel safe, especially when I watch a scary movie or hear stories about demons. I desire security in this scary world. But there are people in non-Christian contexts who believe in a higher power who subordinates demons, or spirits. Can I believe in the concept, without accepting the baggage of evangelical Christianity?

I’ll stop here.