Posts
President Richard Nixon wanted to pressure the CIA to limit the FBI's
investigation into Watergate, and his rationale to CIA director Richard
Helms was that one of the Watergate conspirators, E. Howard Hunt, who
had worked for the CIA, might go on blabbing about the Bay of Pigs,
which was a failed attempt under the Kennedy Administration to overthrow
Cuban leader Fidel Castro. H.R. Haldeman, a close aide to President
Nixon, would write in his book The Ends of Power (which he co-wrote with Joseph DiMona) that "Bay of Pigs" could have been a code-word for the Kennedy assassination.
What did the Bay of Pigs have to do with the Kennedy assassination? Don Fulsom, in his book Nixon's Darkest Secrets: The Inside Story of America's Most Troubled President,
states that the connection was probably that "the cast of characters
employed in the 1960 plan to invade Cuba at the Bay of Pigs and kill
Fidel Castro and the cast of characters employed in the plan to
assassinate Kennedy in 1963 were the same" (page 130). You may have
seen Oliver Stone's JFK, which posits that prominent elements
of the U.S. government and anti-Castro Cubans were involved in the
assassination of President John F. Kennedy. According to this
narrative, the anti-Castro Cubans were upset the Kennedy left them
hanging in their attempts to overthrow Castro, whereas certain forces
within the U.S. government did not particularly care for Kennedy's
(alleged) desire to scale back on America's involvement in the Vietnam
War, to reach an understanding with the Soviet Union, and to shatter the
power of the CIA. Meanwhile, there were American business interests
that profited off of war, and that also did not care for losing their
investments in Cuba after Fidel Castro came to power. Oliver Stone was
also open to the possibility that the mob was involved in the JFK
assassination, albeit at a "lower level". Some believe that one reason
that Nixon appealed to the Bay of Pigs in encouraging the CIA to limit
the FBI's Watergate investigation was that Nixon was essentially telling
the CIA that, unless it acted, the way that its Bay of Pigs operation
led to the Kennedy assassination could be exposed.
Oliver Stone in the movie Nixon
may have the same idea as Fulsom: that Nixon meant the Kennedy
assassination when he mentioned the Bay of Pigs because some of the
anti-Castro Cubans and intelligence agents involved in the Bay of Pigs
participated in the plot to kill President John F. Kennedy. Both Fulsom
and Anthony Summers argue that Nixon, during the Presidency of Dwight
Eisenhower, was involved in plots to overthrow Fidel Castro. After I
first watched the movie Nixon, I read reviews that said that
Stone was alleging that Nixon felt somehow responsible for the death of
John F. Kennedy, since Nixon was an integral part of the plots against
Castro, the plots that some believe boomeranged into the Kennedy
assassination. Fulsom actually goes a bit farther than this. On page
151 of Nixon's Darkest Secrets, Fulsom states: "Was Richard
Nixon really in Dallas on November 22 for a PepsiCo convention, as he
said, or could his presence have been some sort of signal to his friends
in the Mob and the CIA and among the Cuban exiles----the eventual chief
suspects of JFK assassination conspiracy theorists? Chicago Mob boss
Sam Giancana proudly told relatives that, as the mastermind of the JFK
assassination plot, he and Nixon had a preassassination meeting there to
discuss the plot." Fulsom refers in the footnotes to a book by Chuck
and Sam Giancana. Can we trust Sam on this, or was Sam merely saying it
as a way to sell more books?
But back to Haldeman's claim in The Ends of Power that Nixon meant the Kennedy assassination when he referred to the Bay of Pigs. Anthony Summers, in a note in The Arrogance of Power,
interacts with Haldeman's later retraction of that claim. Haldeman
would blame that claim on his co-author, Joseph DiMona. But Summers
does not buy Haldeman's retraction because of indications that Haldeman
was intimately involved in the composition and editing of his book (The Ends of Power),
and Haldeman was quite particular about what went into his book and
what came out. Summers also notes that Haldeman told him (meaning
Summers) in 1989, when Summers was working on a book about J. Edgar
Hoover, that he (Haldeman) was merely speculating that Nixon's reference
to the Bay of Pigs related to the Kennedy assassination. Haldeman had
not yet retracted the claim.
What interested me in reading Summers is that what Haldeman said in The Ends of Power
(according to Summers) differs significantly from the narrative that
some of the anti-Castro forces involved in the Bay of Pigs later
participated in the Kennedy assassination. Summers states on page 199
of The Arrogance of Power: "If the Cuban leader decided to
retaliate, Haldeman surmised, then the U.S. plots to kill him 'may have
triggered the Kennedy tragedy.' The CIA, he suggested, 'desperately
wanted to hide that dark possibility.'" What this seems to suggest is
that, according to Haldeman, the Bay of Pigs could have been associated
with the Kennedy assassination because the Bay of Pigs made Cuban leader
Fidel Castro mad, and so Castro may have retaliated by contributing to
the assassination of Kennedy. In this scenario, it is not anti-Castro
forces that were responsible for Kennedy's death, but Castro.
This is actually a fairly popular idea. I remember watching the Trial of Lee Harvey Oswald,
and (if I'm not mistaken), Ramsey Clark, who had served as President
Lyndon Johnson's Attorney General, stated that Johnson expressed to him a
belief that Castro was somehow behind the Kennedy assassination. In
the movie JFK, a bullying government agent tells one of Jim
Garrison's assistants that Oswald didn't pull the trigger, but Castro
did (which is not to be taken literally, but simply expresses the belief
that Castro was behind the shooting of Kennedy). And, in a documentary about
the Kennedy assassination, Jack Anderson (whom Fulsom praises in his
book) posits that a combination of the mob and Fidel Castro participated
in the plot to assassinate JFK. I wouldn't be surprised if the mafia
played both sides (pro and anti) when it came to Fidel Castro. Remember
David Ferrie's rant in JFK, in which he said that Castro was almost on "our" side, and everyone is always switching sides?
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Book Write-Up: A Walk in the Garden
Paul Morris and Deborah Sawyer, ed. A Walk in the Garden: Biblical, Iconographical and Literary Images of Eden. England: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992.
A Walk in the Garden contains seventeen contributions by scholars about the Garden of Eden story in Genesis 2-3. Why did I decide to read this book? The Garden of Eden story has long intrigued and puzzled me. As someone who came from a Christian background, I was taught that the Garden of Eden story was about the Fall and original sin, which threw the whole universe into a mess, and which Jesus Christ would later come to earth to redress. But I would encounter other interpretations elsewhere. A professor in biblical studies at my undergraduate institution taught and wrote that the Garden of Eden story was not about a Fall, per se, but rather about humanity moving from innocence into a state of intelligence and cultural creation, as well as the struggle to demarcate the boundary between the human and the divine. I heard from religious Jews that Judaism did not believe in original sin but interpreted Genesis 2-3 differently from Christians.
The Garden story itself contained details that perplexed me. Why, for example, did God not want Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? What is wrong with knowing good and evil? Isn't distinguishing between good and evil a good thing elsewhere in the Bible? And does not God say that he himself knows good and evil, as God laments that Adam and Eve now are like God, knowing good and evil? Why is knowing good and evil bad for humans, but a good thing for God? And why did God expel Adam and Eve from the Garden? What would be so wrong with Adam and Eve staying in the Garden of Eden, partaking of the Tree of Life?
I can't say that I found answers to every one of my questions in A Walk of the Garden (or maybe the answers were there, and I missed them!). But the book was still interesting. The book covered a variety of topics, but, if I could locate a central issue that encompasses most of the essays in the book, it would be this: Was the "Fall" in Genesis 2-3 something negative, or something positive (or at least not-so-negative)?
There were a couple of essays that argued that Genesis 2-3 concerned the transition of humans from a state of innocence to one of intelligence and cultural creation. One article even stated that Genesis 2-3 is about how humans became like God----in God's image, as Genesis 1 states. And, according to the article, human beings after the "Fall" indeed resembled God in the biblical narrative: God is at conflict with humanity, which was why God sent the Flood, and human beings became rather alienated from each other after eating the forbidden fruit.
Christianity treated the "Fall" as something negative that Jesus Christ would fix with his obedience to God. An article on feminist attempts to rehabilitate Eve talks about how Christianity reinforced misogyny by blaming the Fall on Eve, and by seeing sex as a means for the transmission of original sin. The article quotes feminist theologian Mary Daly, who does not believe that portraying Mary as a new Eve really corrects the problem, since the Christian narrative still stigmatizes childbirth and women by making Mary an exception among women.
Elements of Gnosticism regarded the "Fall" as positive, as human beings attaining knowledge that a sinister sub-deity wanted to keep from them, leading the sub-deity to expel them from the Garden and to burden them with tasks that would distract them from thinking about their spiritual identity. The article on Judaism opened by saying that Judaism did not believe in original sin, and yet it gave indications that prominent elements of Judaism still deemed the events in Genesis 2-3 to be quite negative: within rabbinic Judaism was the notion that the Torah would correct the ills that the "Fall" brought, at least for the nation of Israel; and elements of Kabbalistic Judaism held that the "Fall" was an event that disrupted the cosmos. At the same time, in the endnotes to the article, there is a reference to a modern Jewish interpretation that regards the "Fall" as something positive, the same way that the exile of the Jews was positive because it enabled them to carry the knowledge of God beyond Israel. According to a couple of articles, Christian theologian Karl Barth held fast to seeing the Fall as negative. According to one of the articles on Barth, the story of the Fall is about human attempts to judge good and evil for themselves, as opposed to relying on God. And there was an article about how Genesis 2-3 may relate to the Oedipus and Elektra complexes: the story reflects how children enter maturity as they learn that they cannot have whatever they want.
I wish that the articles about the Fall being positive (or at least not as negative as Christians say) would have dealt more extensively with a salient feature of the story: that God was commanding the first humans not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and the humans disobeyed God on that point. In most cases throughout the Hebrew Bible, disobeying God is a bad thing. Why would it be a good thing, or at least something that is not so horrible, in Genesis 2-3? I'm not saying that the traditional Christian interpretation lacks its share of problems and inadequately answered questions, but I wanted to see more developed arguments in the articles about the Fall being not-so-negative. For example, it would have been nice had the historical-critical articles tracked down possible ancient Near Eastern tales in which a deity could be fallible, and disobedience of a deity can be something positive.
Apart from the question of whether the "Fall" was negative or not-so-negative, the book offered some interesting details. I learned that Immanuel Kant was quite negative about human beings (in contrast with the optimistic tone that theology was taking for some time), and that the psychologist Carl Jung detested the historical-critical method of interpreting the Bible. One article on Jung stated that Jung was promoting an allegorical method of biblical interpretation, one that looked for symbols in the Bible, as ancient Christian interpreters did (though Jung's allegorical interpretation was most likely different from that of ancient Christians). Some of the topics in the book did not particularly interest me. I, for example, don't really care about how Kavka treated the Fall. But I respect that there are people who are interested in that.
A Walk in the Garden contains seventeen contributions by scholars about the Garden of Eden story in Genesis 2-3. Why did I decide to read this book? The Garden of Eden story has long intrigued and puzzled me. As someone who came from a Christian background, I was taught that the Garden of Eden story was about the Fall and original sin, which threw the whole universe into a mess, and which Jesus Christ would later come to earth to redress. But I would encounter other interpretations elsewhere. A professor in biblical studies at my undergraduate institution taught and wrote that the Garden of Eden story was not about a Fall, per se, but rather about humanity moving from innocence into a state of intelligence and cultural creation, as well as the struggle to demarcate the boundary between the human and the divine. I heard from religious Jews that Judaism did not believe in original sin but interpreted Genesis 2-3 differently from Christians.
The Garden story itself contained details that perplexed me. Why, for example, did God not want Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? What is wrong with knowing good and evil? Isn't distinguishing between good and evil a good thing elsewhere in the Bible? And does not God say that he himself knows good and evil, as God laments that Adam and Eve now are like God, knowing good and evil? Why is knowing good and evil bad for humans, but a good thing for God? And why did God expel Adam and Eve from the Garden? What would be so wrong with Adam and Eve staying in the Garden of Eden, partaking of the Tree of Life?
I can't say that I found answers to every one of my questions in A Walk of the Garden (or maybe the answers were there, and I missed them!). But the book was still interesting. The book covered a variety of topics, but, if I could locate a central issue that encompasses most of the essays in the book, it would be this: Was the "Fall" in Genesis 2-3 something negative, or something positive (or at least not-so-negative)?
There were a couple of essays that argued that Genesis 2-3 concerned the transition of humans from a state of innocence to one of intelligence and cultural creation. One article even stated that Genesis 2-3 is about how humans became like God----in God's image, as Genesis 1 states. And, according to the article, human beings after the "Fall" indeed resembled God in the biblical narrative: God is at conflict with humanity, which was why God sent the Flood, and human beings became rather alienated from each other after eating the forbidden fruit.
Christianity treated the "Fall" as something negative that Jesus Christ would fix with his obedience to God. An article on feminist attempts to rehabilitate Eve talks about how Christianity reinforced misogyny by blaming the Fall on Eve, and by seeing sex as a means for the transmission of original sin. The article quotes feminist theologian Mary Daly, who does not believe that portraying Mary as a new Eve really corrects the problem, since the Christian narrative still stigmatizes childbirth and women by making Mary an exception among women.
Elements of Gnosticism regarded the "Fall" as positive, as human beings attaining knowledge that a sinister sub-deity wanted to keep from them, leading the sub-deity to expel them from the Garden and to burden them with tasks that would distract them from thinking about their spiritual identity. The article on Judaism opened by saying that Judaism did not believe in original sin, and yet it gave indications that prominent elements of Judaism still deemed the events in Genesis 2-3 to be quite negative: within rabbinic Judaism was the notion that the Torah would correct the ills that the "Fall" brought, at least for the nation of Israel; and elements of Kabbalistic Judaism held that the "Fall" was an event that disrupted the cosmos. At the same time, in the endnotes to the article, there is a reference to a modern Jewish interpretation that regards the "Fall" as something positive, the same way that the exile of the Jews was positive because it enabled them to carry the knowledge of God beyond Israel. According to a couple of articles, Christian theologian Karl Barth held fast to seeing the Fall as negative. According to one of the articles on Barth, the story of the Fall is about human attempts to judge good and evil for themselves, as opposed to relying on God. And there was an article about how Genesis 2-3 may relate to the Oedipus and Elektra complexes: the story reflects how children enter maturity as they learn that they cannot have whatever they want.
I wish that the articles about the Fall being positive (or at least not as negative as Christians say) would have dealt more extensively with a salient feature of the story: that God was commanding the first humans not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and the humans disobeyed God on that point. In most cases throughout the Hebrew Bible, disobeying God is a bad thing. Why would it be a good thing, or at least something that is not so horrible, in Genesis 2-3? I'm not saying that the traditional Christian interpretation lacks its share of problems and inadequately answered questions, but I wanted to see more developed arguments in the articles about the Fall being not-so-negative. For example, it would have been nice had the historical-critical articles tracked down possible ancient Near Eastern tales in which a deity could be fallible, and disobedience of a deity can be something positive.
Apart from the question of whether the "Fall" was negative or not-so-negative, the book offered some interesting details. I learned that Immanuel Kant was quite negative about human beings (in contrast with the optimistic tone that theology was taking for some time), and that the psychologist Carl Jung detested the historical-critical method of interpreting the Bible. One article on Jung stated that Jung was promoting an allegorical method of biblical interpretation, one that looked for symbols in the Bible, as ancient Christian interpreters did (though Jung's allegorical interpretation was most likely different from that of ancient Christians). Some of the topics in the book did not particularly interest me. I, for example, don't really care about how Kavka treated the Fall. But I respect that there are people who are interested in that.
Monday, October 7, 2013
The Arrogance of Power 3
For my blog post today about Anthony Summers' The Arrogance of Power: The Secret World of Richard Nixon, I will use as my starting-point something that Summers says on page 3:
"Some of the untruths Nixon told as president mattered little. There was the claim, convenient when meeting a group of athletes, that he had met his wife at a football game. By all other accounts, including his own, he met her when both auditioned for parts in a play. There was his assertion, useful when addressing French reporters, that he had 'majored in French.' In fact his college major had been history. There was his written instruction to his staff----an unusually careless lapse----to find some chopsticks, and any chopsticks would suffice, to display in an exhibit commemorating his breakthrough visit to China. He did so in the knowledge that the authentic ivory chopsticks, used at dinner with Mao Zedong, had not been preserved. 'That doesn't make any difference,' he wrote. 'We undoubtedly have some chopsticks, ivory or otherwise.'"
One of the sources that Summers cites on Nixon's statement that he met his wife at a football game is the Public Papers of the President, 1969-1974, citing a speech that Nixon gave to the National Football Foundation on December 9, 1969. But, as Summers notes, Nixon claimed on page 23 of his memoirs to have met Pat at an audition for a play. On Nixon's claim before French reporters that he majored in French, Summers cites Ted Szulc's The Illusion of Peace, Foreign Policy in the Nixon Years, page 766. For the fact that Nixon majored in history, Summers refers to page 123 of Roger Morris' Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of an American Politician. For the chopsticks story, Summers cites page 383 of a book that Bruce Oudes edited, From the President, Richard Nixon's Secret Files.
(UPDATE: On Nixon majoring in French, Fawn Brodie in Richard Nixon: The Shaping of His Character also says that Nixon lied about that. But Brodie on page 107 lists the classes that Nixon took at Whittier, and he took six French classes. I don't know if that counts as a major, but it's quite a few French classes!)
I'm not sure why this kind of lying bothers me so much. It's not as if I haven't read charges about Nixon lying, prior to reading this passage in Summers' book. Perhaps, in those other cases, I was able to say that Nixon did not remember everything he said or did and thus conveyed inaccuracies, or I was so busy comparing different accounts that it did not sink in that Nixon could be lying. In the cases that Summers cites on page 3, however, they appear to be to be deliberate falsehoods: Nixon says something that he knows to be false. And maybe I was also disturbed that Nixon was lying about his own personal story, which I have come to cherish (somewhat) over the course of my Year (or More) of Nixon.
"Some of the untruths Nixon told as president mattered little. There was the claim, convenient when meeting a group of athletes, that he had met his wife at a football game. By all other accounts, including his own, he met her when both auditioned for parts in a play. There was his assertion, useful when addressing French reporters, that he had 'majored in French.' In fact his college major had been history. There was his written instruction to his staff----an unusually careless lapse----to find some chopsticks, and any chopsticks would suffice, to display in an exhibit commemorating his breakthrough visit to China. He did so in the knowledge that the authentic ivory chopsticks, used at dinner with Mao Zedong, had not been preserved. 'That doesn't make any difference,' he wrote. 'We undoubtedly have some chopsticks, ivory or otherwise.'"
One of the sources that Summers cites on Nixon's statement that he met his wife at a football game is the Public Papers of the President, 1969-1974, citing a speech that Nixon gave to the National Football Foundation on December 9, 1969. But, as Summers notes, Nixon claimed on page 23 of his memoirs to have met Pat at an audition for a play. On Nixon's claim before French reporters that he majored in French, Summers cites Ted Szulc's The Illusion of Peace, Foreign Policy in the Nixon Years, page 766. For the fact that Nixon majored in history, Summers refers to page 123 of Roger Morris' Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of an American Politician. For the chopsticks story, Summers cites page 383 of a book that Bruce Oudes edited, From the President, Richard Nixon's Secret Files.
(UPDATE: On Nixon majoring in French, Fawn Brodie in Richard Nixon: The Shaping of His Character also says that Nixon lied about that. But Brodie on page 107 lists the classes that Nixon took at Whittier, and he took six French classes. I don't know if that counts as a major, but it's quite a few French classes!)
I'm not sure why this kind of lying bothers me so much. It's not as if I haven't read charges about Nixon lying, prior to reading this passage in Summers' book. Perhaps, in those other cases, I was able to say that Nixon did not remember everything he said or did and thus conveyed inaccuracies, or I was so busy comparing different accounts that it did not sink in that Nixon could be lying. In the cases that Summers cites on page 3, however, they appear to be to be deliberate falsehoods: Nixon says something that he knows to be false. And maybe I was also disturbed that Nixon was lying about his own personal story, which I have come to cherish (somewhat) over the course of my Year (or More) of Nixon.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Going to Church, Not Going to Church
I didn't go to church this morning. It was raining heavily, and I
didn't want to walk to church in the rain. I called one lady who goes
to my church and asked if she could give me a ride, and she said that
she wasn't going to church, either! I could have made a couple of more
phone calls in looking for a ride, but I didn't want to bother or
inconvenience anybody. Plus, I'm rather shy.
Did I miss anything? Well, I like going to church because it is a change of pace. It is an opportunity for me to get out of the house, to listen to music, to hear a thoughtful sermon, and to greet and be greeted. There have been times when I have wanted to sleep in. In the case of this morning, a part of me wanted to snuggle up with a book while it was raining outside, and perhaps even to take a nap. But, as the day goes on, I wish that I had gone to church this morning.
There was a time when missing church did not particularly bother me. This was when I was an undergraduate in college. Back then, I wasn't an all-or-nothing type of guy. I realized that I could miss a service, or two, or three, or more, and that didn't mean that I'd be thoroughly retreating into my shell, dropping out of the church, or ditching Christianity altogether, for I could still go back after months of being away. One reason that there were spans in which I did not go to church was that I was simply too tired on Saturday mornings. (It was a Seventh-Day Adventist church.) But, because I was an undergraduate and it wasn't that far back when I had lived at home, my family's practice when it came to church was still a significant part of me. My family would go to church occasionally: we would be weeks away, and then we would decide to attend a service.
When I went to Harvard Divinity School, I went to church every week. I had a variety of motivations for this. For one, as a conservative evangelical at the time, I regarded Harvard Divinity School as a godless place----an excellent school, with some professors who were serious about their Christian or Jewish faith, but a godless place. I figured that I needed to go to church to find spiritual support. Moreover, that was the first time that I was truly away from home. My undergraduate school was a brief drive away from where I grew up, and I could go home any weekend. In Boston, I could not do that. My church was my family away from home.
As I look back, it is amazing that I went to church every week in those days. (Or, actually, I was there the vast majority of weeks. I skipped church to hear Alan Keyes and Richard John Neuhaus when they spoke at Harvard Law School.) I had a busy schedule in those days. Why didn't I just sleep in, as I did as an undergraduate for many weeks? Well, I was more committed to religion when I was at HDS. I could also say that, even on Saturday mornings when I was going to church, I technically was sleeping in. Ordinarily, I got up at 5 or 6 to go through my Hebrew flashcards or to study for tests, so getting up at 8:30 to go to church was sleeping in for me. Yet, as an undergraduate, I got up early during the week to study or do my reading, and I didn't go to church every week in those days. What made my HDS days so different?
When I lived in New York City, I got to the point where I was going to church every week. There were a couple of months when I was not going to church, and I felt lost in those days. I just felt there was a hole in my weekends! I got to the point where I was attending a liberal Adventist church on Saturdays, and Redeemer Presbyterian Church on Sundays. I liked going to church on Saturday morning and coming home for a nice Sabbath nap, or going to church on Sunday morning and getting a hot dog or an egg-and-salami sandwich after church.
When I lived in Cincinnati, there was a vast stretch of time when I did not go to church. There were a variety of reasons for this. For one, Tim Keller (the preacher at Redeemer, in New York City) was a tough act to follow! I also did not want to go through the tedium of church shopping, and I avoided mainline Protestant churches, since I didn't consider them biblical enough. I was enjoying my weekly quiet times through Scripture at home, so part of me felt that I didn't need church. But a part of me wanted to be a part of a church community, for I felt that I was missing something by not being in one. Eventually, I got into the routine of attending Latin mass, and also a couple of spiritual fellowship groups.
Where I live now, I have gone to church every week, with a couple of exceptions, this week being one of them. But I'll be going to Bible study this coming Thursday, so that will be good.
Did I miss anything? Well, I like going to church because it is a change of pace. It is an opportunity for me to get out of the house, to listen to music, to hear a thoughtful sermon, and to greet and be greeted. There have been times when I have wanted to sleep in. In the case of this morning, a part of me wanted to snuggle up with a book while it was raining outside, and perhaps even to take a nap. But, as the day goes on, I wish that I had gone to church this morning.
There was a time when missing church did not particularly bother me. This was when I was an undergraduate in college. Back then, I wasn't an all-or-nothing type of guy. I realized that I could miss a service, or two, or three, or more, and that didn't mean that I'd be thoroughly retreating into my shell, dropping out of the church, or ditching Christianity altogether, for I could still go back after months of being away. One reason that there were spans in which I did not go to church was that I was simply too tired on Saturday mornings. (It was a Seventh-Day Adventist church.) But, because I was an undergraduate and it wasn't that far back when I had lived at home, my family's practice when it came to church was still a significant part of me. My family would go to church occasionally: we would be weeks away, and then we would decide to attend a service.
When I went to Harvard Divinity School, I went to church every week. I had a variety of motivations for this. For one, as a conservative evangelical at the time, I regarded Harvard Divinity School as a godless place----an excellent school, with some professors who were serious about their Christian or Jewish faith, but a godless place. I figured that I needed to go to church to find spiritual support. Moreover, that was the first time that I was truly away from home. My undergraduate school was a brief drive away from where I grew up, and I could go home any weekend. In Boston, I could not do that. My church was my family away from home.
As I look back, it is amazing that I went to church every week in those days. (Or, actually, I was there the vast majority of weeks. I skipped church to hear Alan Keyes and Richard John Neuhaus when they spoke at Harvard Law School.) I had a busy schedule in those days. Why didn't I just sleep in, as I did as an undergraduate for many weeks? Well, I was more committed to religion when I was at HDS. I could also say that, even on Saturday mornings when I was going to church, I technically was sleeping in. Ordinarily, I got up at 5 or 6 to go through my Hebrew flashcards or to study for tests, so getting up at 8:30 to go to church was sleeping in for me. Yet, as an undergraduate, I got up early during the week to study or do my reading, and I didn't go to church every week in those days. What made my HDS days so different?
When I lived in New York City, I got to the point where I was going to church every week. There were a couple of months when I was not going to church, and I felt lost in those days. I just felt there was a hole in my weekends! I got to the point where I was attending a liberal Adventist church on Saturdays, and Redeemer Presbyterian Church on Sundays. I liked going to church on Saturday morning and coming home for a nice Sabbath nap, or going to church on Sunday morning and getting a hot dog or an egg-and-salami sandwich after church.
When I lived in Cincinnati, there was a vast stretch of time when I did not go to church. There were a variety of reasons for this. For one, Tim Keller (the preacher at Redeemer, in New York City) was a tough act to follow! I also did not want to go through the tedium of church shopping, and I avoided mainline Protestant churches, since I didn't consider them biblical enough. I was enjoying my weekly quiet times through Scripture at home, so part of me felt that I didn't need church. But a part of me wanted to be a part of a church community, for I felt that I was missing something by not being in one. Eventually, I got into the routine of attending Latin mass, and also a couple of spiritual fellowship groups.
Where I live now, I have gone to church every week, with a couple of exceptions, this week being one of them. But I'll be going to Bible study this coming Thursday, so that will be good.
The Arrogance of Power 2
In my post today about Anthony Summers' The Arrogance of Power: The Secret World of Richard Nixon,
I will write about the Alger Hiss case, in which Congressman Richard
Nixon played a prominent role. I've summed up the Alger Hiss case more
than once on this blog, but I'll do so once more. (I could
copy-and-paste from my previous posts, but I'm suddenly in the mood to
write about the highlights of the Alger Hiss case.) Whittaker Chambers
was an ex-Communist who was accusing Alger Hiss of engaging in espionage
for the Soviets back when Hiss was a U.S. State Department official.
Hiss initially equivocated about knowing Chambers, but Chambers was
claiming to know personal information about Hiss, some of which was
accurate, some of which was not. Hiss eventually admitted that he knew
Chambers under another name, George Crosley, and Hiss said that he
(Hiss) sublet an apartment to Chambers.
Eventually, Chambers would say that Hiss' wife, Priscilla, copied U.S. Government documents on the Hiss's Woodstock typewriter, then gave those copies to Chambers so that he could relay them to the Soviets. Chambers hid those copied documents, or perhaps it was microfilm copies of the documents (quite frankly, I don't know, since I vaguely recall reading the latter, yet Summers seems to suggest that the former was the case), in a pumpkin on his farm. There was a search for Hiss's Woodstock typewriter, since, if the type on the copies of the documents matched the type that the Woodstock typewriter produced, that would supposedly indicate that Hiss's wife indeed had typed copies of those documents and given them to Chambers. Nixon himself said that typewriters were like fingerprints: that each typewriter produced its own unique kind of type. A Woodstock typewriter was brought forth, and it was said to be Hiss's typewriter. Hiss was widely believed to be guilty of espionage on account of that. The thing is, unbeknownst to the public, there were problems with the typewriter that was said to belong to Hiss: it was manufactured later than Hiss's typewriter.
Summers speculates that the FBI (perhaps collaborating with Nixon) may have manufactured the typewriter that was said to belong to Hiss. Summers states on page 71: "...typewriters have been expertly forged, and with the government's blessing, in a very relevant time frame. By 1941, as part of World War II liaison between American and British intelligence, operatives had developed machines that, according to one of the British officers involved, 'could reproduce faultlessly the imprint of any typewriter on earth.' One successful anti-Nazi operation achieved precisely that by rebuilding an old Italian typewriter." Summers states on page 73 that FBI director J. Edgar Hoover "himself had visited the secret installation in Canada where typewriter fabrication and similar acts of wizardry were perfected." Summers in the documentation part of the book refers to Allen Weinstein's Perjury, Morton and Michael Levitt's A Tissue of Lies: Nixon vs. Hiss, Montgomery Hyde's Room 3603, and William Stevenson's A Man Called Intrepid (and Summers, if I'm reading his note correctly, says that Stevenson's book has a photograph of an October 30, 1941 letter). One would probably have to look at those books to see if what they say about typewriter forgery is solidly supported. Summers also refers to a statement by Horace Schmahl, who claimed to have been a "consultant" on typewriter forgery during the Hiss case.
So was Hiss an innocent man, who was deliberately framed by the FBI and Nixon? Summers does not exactly go that far. Summers contends that the FBI may have sincerely believed that Hiss was a Communist, on the basis of "Soviet cable intercepts", but that it could not reveal this. After all, if the Soviet Union learned that the U.S. could intercept its cables, it would take steps to ensure that the U.S. couldn't intercept future cables. Summers asks on page 73: "Could there have been some twisted reasoning along the lines that since Hiss was now apparently clearly guilty, but the real proof of it had to remain concealed, it was justifiable to fabricate another sort of 'proof'?"
Summers does not appear to believe that Hiss' guilt was rock-solid, however. Hiss questions the reliability of some people behind the Iron Curtain and in the Soviet Union who claimed that Hiss was spying for the Soviets, while being open to others. Summers also refers to Soviet sources that denied that Hiss was spying for the U.S.S.R. On the Venona cables, which have been argued to indicate Hiss's involvement in espionage for the Soviets, Summers expresses doubt that ALES was Alger Hiss. Summers states on page 77: "John Lowenthal, a lawyer who has long been a student of the subject and who maintains Hiss was innocent, has noted that----unlike the ALES of the 1945 message----Hiss was never accused of betraying 'military' information." Summers also asks why Hiss equivocated about knowing Chambers, and he inquires if it could have been because of a homosexual relationship. Summers states that Nixon said this to congressmen on a presidential yacht (for this, Summers cites a November 1975 article in Esquire), and he mentions a report that the FBI received saying that Chambers had a sexual relationship with Alger Hiss's stepson, Timothy. Overall, because many Soviet and House Committee on Un-American Activities documents have been sealed, Summers states that "Until we have full access, the Hiss controversy will continue to be debated" (page 77).
I think that Summers does well to ask questions, and I found his discussion of Venona and the foreign Communists who claimed that Hiss was a spy to be impressive, and comprehensive. I have some questions, however, about whether the typewriter was manufactured by the FBI. Roger Morris, in Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of an American Politician, does not appear to accept that the typewriter was manufactured by the FBI. On pages 498-499, Morris refers to the claims of William Sullivan, who worked with the FBI, that the Bureau's lab was "weakly staffed and managed" (Morris' words). On page 499, Morris states: "'Had Nixon asked the FBI to manufacture evidence to prove his case against Hiss, Hoover would have been only too glad to oblige,' Sullivan believed from his intimate perspective on the case. But 'even if we had wanted to, we simply would not have been capable of it.'" Summers on page 74 quotes the first statement by Sullivan, in arguing that Hoover would have had a motive to manufacture evidence, but he did not quote Sullivan's statement that the FBI was incapable of it. In the notes in the back, on page 491, however, Summers says that Sullivan, in talking to Hiss, backed away from a former statement he had made and said that the FBI was not able to fabricate a typewriter. I don't know if Sullivan made both statements at once, or made the former statement, only to later back away from it.
Eventually, Chambers would say that Hiss' wife, Priscilla, copied U.S. Government documents on the Hiss's Woodstock typewriter, then gave those copies to Chambers so that he could relay them to the Soviets. Chambers hid those copied documents, or perhaps it was microfilm copies of the documents (quite frankly, I don't know, since I vaguely recall reading the latter, yet Summers seems to suggest that the former was the case), in a pumpkin on his farm. There was a search for Hiss's Woodstock typewriter, since, if the type on the copies of the documents matched the type that the Woodstock typewriter produced, that would supposedly indicate that Hiss's wife indeed had typed copies of those documents and given them to Chambers. Nixon himself said that typewriters were like fingerprints: that each typewriter produced its own unique kind of type. A Woodstock typewriter was brought forth, and it was said to be Hiss's typewriter. Hiss was widely believed to be guilty of espionage on account of that. The thing is, unbeknownst to the public, there were problems with the typewriter that was said to belong to Hiss: it was manufactured later than Hiss's typewriter.
Summers speculates that the FBI (perhaps collaborating with Nixon) may have manufactured the typewriter that was said to belong to Hiss. Summers states on page 71: "...typewriters have been expertly forged, and with the government's blessing, in a very relevant time frame. By 1941, as part of World War II liaison between American and British intelligence, operatives had developed machines that, according to one of the British officers involved, 'could reproduce faultlessly the imprint of any typewriter on earth.' One successful anti-Nazi operation achieved precisely that by rebuilding an old Italian typewriter." Summers states on page 73 that FBI director J. Edgar Hoover "himself had visited the secret installation in Canada where typewriter fabrication and similar acts of wizardry were perfected." Summers in the documentation part of the book refers to Allen Weinstein's Perjury, Morton and Michael Levitt's A Tissue of Lies: Nixon vs. Hiss, Montgomery Hyde's Room 3603, and William Stevenson's A Man Called Intrepid (and Summers, if I'm reading his note correctly, says that Stevenson's book has a photograph of an October 30, 1941 letter). One would probably have to look at those books to see if what they say about typewriter forgery is solidly supported. Summers also refers to a statement by Horace Schmahl, who claimed to have been a "consultant" on typewriter forgery during the Hiss case.
So was Hiss an innocent man, who was deliberately framed by the FBI and Nixon? Summers does not exactly go that far. Summers contends that the FBI may have sincerely believed that Hiss was a Communist, on the basis of "Soviet cable intercepts", but that it could not reveal this. After all, if the Soviet Union learned that the U.S. could intercept its cables, it would take steps to ensure that the U.S. couldn't intercept future cables. Summers asks on page 73: "Could there have been some twisted reasoning along the lines that since Hiss was now apparently clearly guilty, but the real proof of it had to remain concealed, it was justifiable to fabricate another sort of 'proof'?"
Summers does not appear to believe that Hiss' guilt was rock-solid, however. Hiss questions the reliability of some people behind the Iron Curtain and in the Soviet Union who claimed that Hiss was spying for the Soviets, while being open to others. Summers also refers to Soviet sources that denied that Hiss was spying for the U.S.S.R. On the Venona cables, which have been argued to indicate Hiss's involvement in espionage for the Soviets, Summers expresses doubt that ALES was Alger Hiss. Summers states on page 77: "John Lowenthal, a lawyer who has long been a student of the subject and who maintains Hiss was innocent, has noted that----unlike the ALES of the 1945 message----Hiss was never accused of betraying 'military' information." Summers also asks why Hiss equivocated about knowing Chambers, and he inquires if it could have been because of a homosexual relationship. Summers states that Nixon said this to congressmen on a presidential yacht (for this, Summers cites a November 1975 article in Esquire), and he mentions a report that the FBI received saying that Chambers had a sexual relationship with Alger Hiss's stepson, Timothy. Overall, because many Soviet and House Committee on Un-American Activities documents have been sealed, Summers states that "Until we have full access, the Hiss controversy will continue to be debated" (page 77).
I think that Summers does well to ask questions, and I found his discussion of Venona and the foreign Communists who claimed that Hiss was a spy to be impressive, and comprehensive. I have some questions, however, about whether the typewriter was manufactured by the FBI. Roger Morris, in Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of an American Politician, does not appear to accept that the typewriter was manufactured by the FBI. On pages 498-499, Morris refers to the claims of William Sullivan, who worked with the FBI, that the Bureau's lab was "weakly staffed and managed" (Morris' words). On page 499, Morris states: "'Had Nixon asked the FBI to manufacture evidence to prove his case against Hiss, Hoover would have been only too glad to oblige,' Sullivan believed from his intimate perspective on the case. But 'even if we had wanted to, we simply would not have been capable of it.'" Summers on page 74 quotes the first statement by Sullivan, in arguing that Hoover would have had a motive to manufacture evidence, but he did not quote Sullivan's statement that the FBI was incapable of it. In the notes in the back, on page 491, however, Summers says that Sullivan, in talking to Hiss, backed away from a former statement he had made and said that the FBI was not able to fabricate a typewriter. I don't know if Sullivan made both statements at once, or made the former statement, only to later back away from it.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
The Arrogance of Power 1
Over the next six days, I will be blogging about Anthony Summers' The Arrogance of Power: The Secret World of Richard Nixon,
which is an anti-Nixon biography. My format of blogging through this
book will be different from my usual custom in blogging through books.
Ordinarily, I read a certain number of pages, then I pick out something
from those pages to blog about. In the case of The Arrogance of Power,
however, I have already read two hundred pages before today, so my
usual approach does not strike me as particularly feasible. What I'll
be doing for The Arrogance of Power is that I will select my favorite passages and will blog about them, even if those passages are not from my latest reading.
I was going to blog about Summers' interesting take on the Alger Hiss case, but I'll save that for tomorrow. What I'll blog about today is Summers' discussion on pages 12-13 about Richard Nixon's religion. Some of what Summers said is not new to me: Nixon's references to his Quaker mother, his statement that he prayed each night before he went to bed, etc. Summers refers to possible indications that Nixon was not particularly religious, however: Nixon aide John Ehrlichman said that Nixon's friendship with Billy Graham was "window dressing", and also that Nixon "was not a motivated Christian" (Ehrlichman, quoted on page 12). Summers says that "Nixon stopped holding Sunday services at the White House during Watergate and for months did not attend church at all" (page 12). But Summers also notes indications that Nixon had an interest in religion and a belief in God. Summers states that Nixon in his old age had a number of books about religion, and that Nixon told Rabbi Baruch Korff on his last day as President that he felt that God was punishing him. Summers also refers to the view of the Chicago Tribune's Walter Trohan that Nixon's Quaker background may have influenced him to develop loner tendencies: "Quakers don't have anybody to deal with God except themselves, and that can make them loners. He didn't consult people..." (Trohan, quoted on page 13).
What I did not know was that Nixon was an admirer of Roman Catholicism. According to Summers, Ehrlichman quoted Nixon as saying: "You know, if I were ever to embrace a religion, it would be Catholicism, because they're so well disciplined in their dogma, so well defined." Summers says that, according to Charles Colson (an aide to Nixon who would later become a lay minister), Nixon was thinking of becoming a Catholic before the 1972 election, for Nixon came to believe that "Catholics represented 'the real America'" (Summers' words, though Summers may be quoting Colson on the "real America" part). Summers notes that "To traditional Quakers like [Nixon's] mother, Catholicism is anathema." On page 13, Summers states that Nixon in his old age "still admired Catholicism, having come to believe that ritual and ceremony were essential to religion..." Summers then goes on to quote a statement by Nixon's mother that Nixon "shuns even the restrained rituals" of his Quaker faith, so my impression is that Nixon's belief in the importance of rituals and ceremonies may have developed over time.
This discussion is a fine example of why I like Summers' book: it contains information about Nixon that I have not encountered in other books by or about Nixon that I have read. Many books that I have read have had the same material. There may be an anecdote here and there that is new to me, and each author adds his or her unique spin or analysis, but it's still a lot of the same stuff. When I read Summers, however, there is a lot that he presents that is new to me. And, in a number of cases, Summers refers to the testimony of eyewitnesses.
People have encouraged me to convert to Catholicism, but I doubt that I'll ever do that. There are things that I admire about Catholicism----the beauty of its liturgy, its solid intellectual tradition, the salt-of-the-earth people----and there are things about its doctrines that I have problems with (i.e., no birth control). Overall, I'm reluctant to hitch myself to a specific religion because I fear that doing so will hinder my own freedom of thought. Catholicism has clear ideas about what people should do and believe, and I find that to be restrictive. Consequently, I prefer my own loose version of Protestantism (if my religion even falls under that category).
UPDATE: I'd like to mention one more thing about Nixon and religion. Yesterday, I talked about Billy Graham's eulogy at Nixon's funeral, and how Graham likened Nixon to King Saul, one who had his own inner demons, yet accomplished great things. It appears that Graham may have interpreted Nixon's demons literally. Summers on page 318 quotes Graham as saying in 1979, as Graham reflected on Nixon's downfall: "I think it was sleeping pills. Sleeping pills and demons. I think there was definitely demon power involved. He took all those sleeping pills, and through history, drugs and demons have gone together....My conclusion is that it was just all those sleeping pills, they just let a demon's power come in and play over him...." In the documentation part of his book, on page 585, Summers refers to "Billy Graham in Esquire, Apr. 10, 1979."
I was going to blog about Summers' interesting take on the Alger Hiss case, but I'll save that for tomorrow. What I'll blog about today is Summers' discussion on pages 12-13 about Richard Nixon's religion. Some of what Summers said is not new to me: Nixon's references to his Quaker mother, his statement that he prayed each night before he went to bed, etc. Summers refers to possible indications that Nixon was not particularly religious, however: Nixon aide John Ehrlichman said that Nixon's friendship with Billy Graham was "window dressing", and also that Nixon "was not a motivated Christian" (Ehrlichman, quoted on page 12). Summers says that "Nixon stopped holding Sunday services at the White House during Watergate and for months did not attend church at all" (page 12). But Summers also notes indications that Nixon had an interest in religion and a belief in God. Summers states that Nixon in his old age had a number of books about religion, and that Nixon told Rabbi Baruch Korff on his last day as President that he felt that God was punishing him. Summers also refers to the view of the Chicago Tribune's Walter Trohan that Nixon's Quaker background may have influenced him to develop loner tendencies: "Quakers don't have anybody to deal with God except themselves, and that can make them loners. He didn't consult people..." (Trohan, quoted on page 13).
What I did not know was that Nixon was an admirer of Roman Catholicism. According to Summers, Ehrlichman quoted Nixon as saying: "You know, if I were ever to embrace a religion, it would be Catholicism, because they're so well disciplined in their dogma, so well defined." Summers says that, according to Charles Colson (an aide to Nixon who would later become a lay minister), Nixon was thinking of becoming a Catholic before the 1972 election, for Nixon came to believe that "Catholics represented 'the real America'" (Summers' words, though Summers may be quoting Colson on the "real America" part). Summers notes that "To traditional Quakers like [Nixon's] mother, Catholicism is anathema." On page 13, Summers states that Nixon in his old age "still admired Catholicism, having come to believe that ritual and ceremony were essential to religion..." Summers then goes on to quote a statement by Nixon's mother that Nixon "shuns even the restrained rituals" of his Quaker faith, so my impression is that Nixon's belief in the importance of rituals and ceremonies may have developed over time.
This discussion is a fine example of why I like Summers' book: it contains information about Nixon that I have not encountered in other books by or about Nixon that I have read. Many books that I have read have had the same material. There may be an anecdote here and there that is new to me, and each author adds his or her unique spin or analysis, but it's still a lot of the same stuff. When I read Summers, however, there is a lot that he presents that is new to me. And, in a number of cases, Summers refers to the testimony of eyewitnesses.
People have encouraged me to convert to Catholicism, but I doubt that I'll ever do that. There are things that I admire about Catholicism----the beauty of its liturgy, its solid intellectual tradition, the salt-of-the-earth people----and there are things about its doctrines that I have problems with (i.e., no birth control). Overall, I'm reluctant to hitch myself to a specific religion because I fear that doing so will hinder my own freedom of thought. Catholicism has clear ideas about what people should do and believe, and I find that to be restrictive. Consequently, I prefer my own loose version of Protestantism (if my religion even falls under that category).
UPDATE: I'd like to mention one more thing about Nixon and religion. Yesterday, I talked about Billy Graham's eulogy at Nixon's funeral, and how Graham likened Nixon to King Saul, one who had his own inner demons, yet accomplished great things. It appears that Graham may have interpreted Nixon's demons literally. Summers on page 318 quotes Graham as saying in 1979, as Graham reflected on Nixon's downfall: "I think it was sleeping pills. Sleeping pills and demons. I think there was definitely demon power involved. He took all those sleeping pills, and through history, drugs and demons have gone together....My conclusion is that it was just all those sleeping pills, they just let a demon's power come in and play over him...." In the documentation part of his book, on page 585, Summers refers to "Billy Graham in Esquire, Apr. 10, 1979."
Psalm 128
For my weekly quiet time this week, I will post Psalm 128 in the King
James Version (which is in the public domain), then I will comment.
1 A Song of degrees. Blessed is every one that feareth the LORD; that walketh in his ways.
2 For thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands: happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.
3 Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table.
4 Behold, that thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the LORD.
5 The LORD shall bless thee out of Zion: and thou shalt see the good of Jerusalem all the days of thy life.
6 Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children, and peace upon Israel.
1. What particularly interested me in my study of this Psalm was the various ideas that scholars have offered for the Psalm's Sitz-im-Leben and original purpose. E. Gerstenberger speculates that Psalm 128 was originally linked to "female domestic cult practice", and that the part about Jerusalem and Israel was added later. Leslie Allen refers to the view that Psalm 128 was a welcome for a host at the door of the host's house. Allen mentions other ideas, too: that Psalm 128 was wisdom teaching that had nothing to do with the cult, yet incorporated cultic language; that Psalm 128 was a cultic text incorporating wisdom language; that Psalm 128 was used at the autumn festival, when its theme of fertility would have been especially appropriate; that Psalm 128 welcomes the faithful pilgrim to the sanctuary; that Psalm 128 is a priestly blessing seeing the pilgrims off as they are leaving; etc. E.W. Bullinger interprets the Songs of Degrees in light of the reign of Hezekiah, which includes the failure of the Assyrian Sennacherib to conquer Jerusalem, and also Hezekiah's recovery from his sickness. According to Bullinger, v 2's statement that "thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands" is contrasting that sort of situation with one in which others partake of the fruit of the faithful Israelite's labor (Leviticus 26:16; Deuteronomy 28:30-33, 39, 40; Amos 5:11). Could Psalm 128 be about the deliverance of Israel from her enemies, in either a historical or an eschatological sense, which would allow Israelites to enjoy the fruit of their labor?
2. Psalm 128 is somewhat like the prosperity Gospel in its emphasis on material prosperity. Leslie Allen states that the New Testament retains "categorical promises of material endowment" (Matthew 6:33; II Corinthians 9:6-12; cf. Philippians 4:19), although it has a "less earthy emphasis." I question whether the New Testament is as keen on the righteous becoming rich, as various parts of the Old Testament are, for the New Testament seems to me to talk about material provision, not material riches. God will provide for our needs, but not necessarily our greeds, in short.
There may be a sort of communitarian prosperity Gospel in the New Testament, however. Mark 10:29-30 says: "And Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's, But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life." You see here a promise of houses and lands, but that corresponds with inclusion in the Christian family. Could that be because the Christians are sharing their houses and lands with one another?
Speaking of a communitarian prosperity Gospel, W.O.E. Oesterley states regarding Psalm 128: "The welfare of the individual is conditioned by that of the community", and this is assured when the God of Israel is worshiped at Jerusalem. God can take care of the individual when everyone around him or her is starving: this occurred in I Kings 17, when a woman who helped Elijah managed to eat throughout a time of famine. But maybe there's another message within the Bible as well: that we take care of the me by taking care of the we.
1 A Song of degrees. Blessed is every one that feareth the LORD; that walketh in his ways.
2 For thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands: happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.
3 Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table.
4 Behold, that thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the LORD.
5 The LORD shall bless thee out of Zion: and thou shalt see the good of Jerusalem all the days of thy life.
6 Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children, and peace upon Israel.
1. What particularly interested me in my study of this Psalm was the various ideas that scholars have offered for the Psalm's Sitz-im-Leben and original purpose. E. Gerstenberger speculates that Psalm 128 was originally linked to "female domestic cult practice", and that the part about Jerusalem and Israel was added later. Leslie Allen refers to the view that Psalm 128 was a welcome for a host at the door of the host's house. Allen mentions other ideas, too: that Psalm 128 was wisdom teaching that had nothing to do with the cult, yet incorporated cultic language; that Psalm 128 was a cultic text incorporating wisdom language; that Psalm 128 was used at the autumn festival, when its theme of fertility would have been especially appropriate; that Psalm 128 welcomes the faithful pilgrim to the sanctuary; that Psalm 128 is a priestly blessing seeing the pilgrims off as they are leaving; etc. E.W. Bullinger interprets the Songs of Degrees in light of the reign of Hezekiah, which includes the failure of the Assyrian Sennacherib to conquer Jerusalem, and also Hezekiah's recovery from his sickness. According to Bullinger, v 2's statement that "thou shalt eat the labour of thine hands" is contrasting that sort of situation with one in which others partake of the fruit of the faithful Israelite's labor (Leviticus 26:16; Deuteronomy 28:30-33, 39, 40; Amos 5:11). Could Psalm 128 be about the deliverance of Israel from her enemies, in either a historical or an eschatological sense, which would allow Israelites to enjoy the fruit of their labor?
2. Psalm 128 is somewhat like the prosperity Gospel in its emphasis on material prosperity. Leslie Allen states that the New Testament retains "categorical promises of material endowment" (Matthew 6:33; II Corinthians 9:6-12; cf. Philippians 4:19), although it has a "less earthy emphasis." I question whether the New Testament is as keen on the righteous becoming rich, as various parts of the Old Testament are, for the New Testament seems to me to talk about material provision, not material riches. God will provide for our needs, but not necessarily our greeds, in short.
There may be a sort of communitarian prosperity Gospel in the New Testament, however. Mark 10:29-30 says: "And Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's, But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life." You see here a promise of houses and lands, but that corresponds with inclusion in the Christian family. Could that be because the Christians are sharing their houses and lands with one another?
Speaking of a communitarian prosperity Gospel, W.O.E. Oesterley states regarding Psalm 128: "The welfare of the individual is conditioned by that of the community", and this is assured when the God of Israel is worshiped at Jerusalem. God can take care of the individual when everyone around him or her is starving: this occurred in I Kings 17, when a woman who helped Elijah managed to eat throughout a time of famine. But maybe there's another message within the Bible as well: that we take care of the me by taking care of the we.
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