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Robert J. Hutchinson. Searching for Jesus: New Discoveries in the Quest for Jesus of Nazareth—-And How They Confirm the Gospel Accounts. Nashville: Nelson Books, 2015. See here to purchase the book.
Every Christmas and Easter season, sensationalist documentaries come
out claiming or implying that the biblical Gospels are historically
unreliable in their depiction of Jesus. Some of what they say is also
stated by professors in secular colleges and universities. Robert J.
Hutchinson, who has a graduate degree in New Testament from Fuller
Theological Seminary, argues that such claims are based on outdated
scholarship, and that newer research is consistent with the historicity
of the Gospel accounts.
I was initially hesitant to read this book, thinking that it was yet
another work of Christian apologetics repeating the same old Christian
apologetic arguments. But I saw on the book’s Amazon page that it is
recommended by biblical scholars as diverse as N.T. Wright, James
Crossley, and James Tabor, so I decided to read it.
The book covers different topics. Do the biblical Gospels reflect
eyewitness testimony? How can we be sure that the Gospels in front of
us reflect what was originally written down? Did Jesus’ alleged
hometown of Nazareth even exist in the first century C.E.? Did the
early Christians invent the idea that the Messiah would suffer and die
as a way to cope with their disappointment about Jesus’ death? Do
Jesus’ disputes with the Pharisees reflect what happened historically,
or did early Christians project their own disputes with Jewish leaders
onto the time of Jesus? Do the so-called Gnostic Gospels, which are
different from the biblical Gospels, contain historically reliable
information about Jesus, or at least demonstrate that early Christianity
was diverse and that the “orthodox” view was only one Christian view
among others? Is there evidence that Jesus rose from the dead? Was
Jesus a violent revolutionary? Just how early was “high Christology,”
the view that Jesus was divine? Was high Christology due to Greco-Roman
influence on Christianity, or could it have been present among Jesus’
early Jewish followers, and even in Jesus’ own self-conception?
The book does draw from scholars who would be considered
conservative, such as Richard Bauckham, Daniel Wallace, and Larry
Hurtado. William Lane Craig is a philosopher and an apologist rather
than a biblical scholar, but Craig has argued that Jesus rose from the
dead, and Hutchinson refers to his arguments. But Hutchinson also
appeals to scholars and thinkers who are not Christian. James Crossley
is agnostic, and he argues that the Gospel of Mark could have been
written in the mid-30s C.E., which is soon after Jesus’ death, and which
is earlier than many scholars have dated it. Israel Knohl is Jewish,
and he argues that the idea of a suffering Messiah existed in Judaism
before Jesus. Shmuley Boteach is a rabbi, and he maintains that Jesus’
disputes with the Pharisees in the Gospels could have happened
historically. Daniel Boyarin is Jewish, and he argues that there were
views about God within Second Temple Judaism that could have set the
stage for Jesus being seen as divine or semi-divine. Hutchinson also
interacts with liberal scholars whose views he does not share, such as
Bart Ehrman.
There were chapters in this book that were conservative, and some of
these chapters were better than others. The chapter on Nazareth was
informative in that it explained why there have been scholars who have
been skeptical about Nazareth’s existence in the first century,
presented possible archaeological evidence to the contrary, and sought
to account for Nazareth’s absence from non-Christian first century
sources. Hutchinson did not always explain how more liberal scholars
arrived at their conclusions, however. Hutchinson expressed
disagreement with the view that Jesus envisioned an imminent end of the
world, but he did not really interact with the texts or arguments that
lead many scholars to conclude that (or he did not do so adequately).
Hutchinson argued against Bart Ehrman’s skepticism (at least in Ehrman’s
popular books) about the Gospels reflecting what was originally
written, but Hutchinson did not adequately address Ehrman’s argument
that ancient Christians altered the text for theological purposes.
Hutchinson name-drops liberal scholars who agree with his
conclusions. But one can ask why, if these conclusions support the
truth of Christianity, these liberal scholars remain liberal scholars
rather than becoming conservative Christians. James Crossley obviously
has no problem believing that the Gospel of Mark is early, while also
rejecting conservative Christianity. Why? Does the Gospel of Mark
being early necessarily mean that conservative Christianity is true?
One can legitimately ask if Hutchinson’s conclusions necessarily make
a case for Christianity being true. Many Christian apologists and
conservative scholars, after all, have made arguments that are different
from the ones that Hutchinson makes, in their own attempts to support
the truth of Christianity. Hutchinson argues that Jesus seeing himself
as divine was consistent with Second Temple Judaism. C.S. Lewis argued,
however, that Jesus was who he said he was because, otherwise, Jesus
would have been a liar or a madman: Lewis’ premise was that a man
claiming to be God in a first century Jewish environment would have been
radical, that Jesus’ claim to be God could be compared to a man
claiming to be a poached egg. Hutchinson argues that the idea of a
suffering Messiah predated Jesus and Christianity. N.T. Wright,
however, argued that Jesus rose from the dead, and one reason is that
Messianic movements generally folded after the death of their leader,
whereas the Jesus movement went on. Is Christianity true because Jesus
was a revolutionary figure in his time, or is it true because there were
Jewish precedents to what Jesus said and did, or what early Christians
claimed about Jesus? All sorts of arguments can be made for and against
the truth of Christianity. What is interesting is that contradictory
arguments can be found within both sides, which (in my mind) calls into
question whether the arguments truly accomplish what they are intended
to accomplish. (I suppose that some skeptical arguments are more
damaging than others, and that Hutchinson at least tries to neutralize
or discredit the damaging ones.)
There was also at least one occasion in which Hutchinson’s
methodology was inconsistent. Hutchinson seemed to maintain that the
Babylonian Talmud’s reference to Jesus was historically accurate, even
though the Babylonian Talmud is much later than the historical Jesus.
Later, however, Hutchinson discusses how Second Temple sources offer a
more accurate picture of the Judaism of Jesus’ time than rabbinic
sources. Hutchinson compares looking to late rabbinic sources to
understand the first century to future historians trying to understand
the 1700s by reading people’s tweets (excellent analogy)!
I am still giving this book five stars, however, for three reasons.
First, there are many places in which the book fairly and judiciously
summarizes different perspectives. The section about the Taipot tomb
(where James Tabor says Jesus was buried) was especially good, in this
regard. Second, the book is informative in discussing trends within
scholarship and in pointing readers to resources. Third, the book is
not always conservative. Some conservatives try to make Jesus look
superior to his Jewish context, but Hutchinson does not appear to go
that route, as Hutchinson favorably summarizes Amy-Jill Levine’s work.
Hutchinson dates the Book of Daniel to the second century B.C.E. rather
than the sixth century B.C.E., which is when many conservative scholars
date it. Hutchinson seems to wrestle with the substitutionary
atonement, noting that Jesus forgave and accepted people before his
death. Hutchinson does not treat the “evidence” for Jesus’ resurrection
as conclusive or fully persuasive, but he does believe that there is
something to it. In his Epilogue, Hutchinson refers to the apparent
problems with Luke 2:22, namely, the question of whether it accords with
the Torah. Hutchinson cites manuscripts in this discussion.
Hutchinson does not strike me as a strict inerrantist when it comes to
the Bible, but rather as one who sees the Gospels as generally reliable,
in a historical sense. Overall, Hutchinson came across as rather
conservative, but also as one who is open to different ideas. That is
why I enjoyed the book.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book through BookLook Bloggers, in exchange for an honest review.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Friday, December 25, 2015
Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh
In Matthew 2, magi from the east present the child Jesus with gifts
of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Why did they give Jesus those
particular gifts?
Here are three items. The first two items draw from Tim Widowfield’s post on Vridar, “Why Did Matthew’s Nativity Story Have References to Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh?” The third item is from my reading of the fifth-ninth century C.E. Christian work, “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan.”
A. Matthew 2 could be alluding to Isaiah 60:6, which states: “The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense; and they shall shew forth the praises of the LORD” (KJV).
Isaiah 60:6 is about what will occur after God glorifies Israel: Gentiles will bring Israel gold and incense. According to biblical scholar John Nolland, Matthew’s allusion to Isaiah 60:6 depicts “Israel being glorified in the person of the messiah by the wealth of the nations” (page 117 of Nolland’s 2005 book, The Gospel of Matthew).
There are various things to consider:
First, Isaiah 60:6 is part of Third Isaiah, which may not even have Messianism. At least I agree with biblical scholar Paul Hanson that it does not, for the idea of a Davidic king is absent from Third Isaiah. At the same time, Matthew most likely was unaware of the different ideologies within the Book of Isaiah. Matthew could have interpreted Isaiah 60:6 messianically, even if that was contrary to Third Isaiah’s ideology.
Second, were Midian, Ephah, and Sheba located east of Israel, which is where the magi were from? Sheba was probably located to the south of Israel. Midianites could have been located southeast of Israel, however, in southern Transjordan (Numbers 22; 25; 31; I Kings 11:18).
Third, were there magi in Midian? Well, the sorcerer Balaam in the Book of Numbers served the Midianites, who were mixed with the Moabites. Could Matthew 2 be positing a reversal of the Balaam story: magicians from the east are not trying to subvert Israel, as Balaam did, but are honoring her Messiah with gifts? Perhaps. Yet, the first century Jewish philosopher Philo praises magi who were in Persia (Special Laws 3.100-101; Every Good Man Is Free 74). Not surprisingly, many have maintained that the magi who visited Jesus (in real life, in the story, or in both) were from Persia.
B. Tim Widowfield’s post on Vridar draws from controversial scholar Margaret Barker’s book, Christmas, the Original Story. Barker maintains that the magi’s gifts relate to the anointing of the Messiah and the eschatological Temple. Myrrh was used for anointing. Frankincense was used in the worship at the Tabernacle (Exodus 30:34). Josephus in Antiquities 8:4 states that a lot of incense was burned when Solomon was consecrating his Temple. There were Jewish traditions about the Messiah building a new Temple, different from the inadequate and (according to some) corrupt Second Temple. Could the magi’s gifts relate to that?
C. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh feature prominently in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan.” They are present in Book I, Chapters 30-31, and Book II, Chapter 8, verses 17-19.
Adam and Eve are trying to adjust to their rough life after they have been exiled from the Garden of Eden. God gives them incense and myrrh from the Garden of Eden, and golden rods from the Indian sea, to comfort them.
Adam at first does not find these gifts too comforting. He thinks that they serve to remind him of the glory that he lost in Eden: that the gold symbolizes the Kingdom of God in the Garden, the incense recalls the bright light that was once a part of Adam’s nature, and the myrrh concerns Adam’s present sorrow.
God, however, tells Adam that these gifts are intended to comfort him, both symbolically and functionally. God says that kings will bring God these gifts when God comes in the flesh. The gold represents God’s kingdom. The incense represents Christ’s divinity. The myrrh is a token of Christ’s suffering and death, which will save humanity, including Adam.
The gifts also have a practical function. The gold is a sort of nightlight for Adam and Eve when they sleep in the cave at night. Adam and Eve are having difficulty becoming accustomed to the darkness of night, especially after leaving Eden, a place where there is no night. The incense provides a sweet smell, and the myrrh can comfort Adam and Eve in their sorrow. Adam and Eve place these gifts around their cave, which is their home, a place of prayer, and, eventually, a place of burial for the righteous.
Later, Adam on his deathbed is exhorting his righteous son, Seth. Adam instructs Seth to preserve the gold, incense, and myrrh, for they are a sign from God. They symbolize the same things that God told Adam earlier, but Adam also presents an alternative symbolism: the gold symbolizes Christ’s defeat of Satan; the incense symbolizes Christ’s resurrection and exaltation above all things; and the myrrh symbolizes the bitter gall that Christ will drink as well as the torment that Christ will suffer in hell from Satan.
Adam says that the gifts are to be taken aboard the Ark during the Flood, along with Adam’s corpse, and they are to be buried with Adam. A long time afterwards, Israel will be conquered and spoiled, and these gifts will be taken to another land. These gifts will last for centuries, until kings will bring them to the Christ child. The idea seems to be that this gold, incense, and myrrh end up in Persia after Israel is exiled, and the Persian magi later bring them to the child Jesus.
How do these items symbolize what they symbolize? Gold probably had royal associations, so that could be why it symbolized God’s kingdom. Incense may have symbolized Christ’s divinity in the sense that incense is sweet, and Christ’s divinity sweetened his humanity. It may have symbolized Christ’s resurrection because the sweet smell of incense rises, as Christ rose to heaven. Christ, according to many Christians, was a sweet offering to God: Christ righteously obeyed God and pleased God in so doing, and Christ’s sacrifice was an atonement for sinners that God accepted. The myrrh may have symbolized Christ’s passion because of its bitter taste; at the same time, Christ on the cross refused to drink wine mingled with myrrh, which could have alleviated his pain (Mark 15:23). Perhaps the myrrh in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” recalled that scene at the passion.
Merry Christmas, for those who celebrate it. For those who do not, have a good day.
Here are three items. The first two items draw from Tim Widowfield’s post on Vridar, “Why Did Matthew’s Nativity Story Have References to Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh?” The third item is from my reading of the fifth-ninth century C.E. Christian work, “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan.”
A. Matthew 2 could be alluding to Isaiah 60:6, which states: “The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense; and they shall shew forth the praises of the LORD” (KJV).
Isaiah 60:6 is about what will occur after God glorifies Israel: Gentiles will bring Israel gold and incense. According to biblical scholar John Nolland, Matthew’s allusion to Isaiah 60:6 depicts “Israel being glorified in the person of the messiah by the wealth of the nations” (page 117 of Nolland’s 2005 book, The Gospel of Matthew).
There are various things to consider:
First, Isaiah 60:6 is part of Third Isaiah, which may not even have Messianism. At least I agree with biblical scholar Paul Hanson that it does not, for the idea of a Davidic king is absent from Third Isaiah. At the same time, Matthew most likely was unaware of the different ideologies within the Book of Isaiah. Matthew could have interpreted Isaiah 60:6 messianically, even if that was contrary to Third Isaiah’s ideology.
Second, were Midian, Ephah, and Sheba located east of Israel, which is where the magi were from? Sheba was probably located to the south of Israel. Midianites could have been located southeast of Israel, however, in southern Transjordan (Numbers 22; 25; 31; I Kings 11:18).
Third, were there magi in Midian? Well, the sorcerer Balaam in the Book of Numbers served the Midianites, who were mixed with the Moabites. Could Matthew 2 be positing a reversal of the Balaam story: magicians from the east are not trying to subvert Israel, as Balaam did, but are honoring her Messiah with gifts? Perhaps. Yet, the first century Jewish philosopher Philo praises magi who were in Persia (Special Laws 3.100-101; Every Good Man Is Free 74). Not surprisingly, many have maintained that the magi who visited Jesus (in real life, in the story, or in both) were from Persia.
B. Tim Widowfield’s post on Vridar draws from controversial scholar Margaret Barker’s book, Christmas, the Original Story. Barker maintains that the magi’s gifts relate to the anointing of the Messiah and the eschatological Temple. Myrrh was used for anointing. Frankincense was used in the worship at the Tabernacle (Exodus 30:34). Josephus in Antiquities 8:4 states that a lot of incense was burned when Solomon was consecrating his Temple. There were Jewish traditions about the Messiah building a new Temple, different from the inadequate and (according to some) corrupt Second Temple. Could the magi’s gifts relate to that?
C. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh feature prominently in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan.” They are present in Book I, Chapters 30-31, and Book II, Chapter 8, verses 17-19.
Adam and Eve are trying to adjust to their rough life after they have been exiled from the Garden of Eden. God gives them incense and myrrh from the Garden of Eden, and golden rods from the Indian sea, to comfort them.
Adam at first does not find these gifts too comforting. He thinks that they serve to remind him of the glory that he lost in Eden: that the gold symbolizes the Kingdom of God in the Garden, the incense recalls the bright light that was once a part of Adam’s nature, and the myrrh concerns Adam’s present sorrow.
God, however, tells Adam that these gifts are intended to comfort him, both symbolically and functionally. God says that kings will bring God these gifts when God comes in the flesh. The gold represents God’s kingdom. The incense represents Christ’s divinity. The myrrh is a token of Christ’s suffering and death, which will save humanity, including Adam.
The gifts also have a practical function. The gold is a sort of nightlight for Adam and Eve when they sleep in the cave at night. Adam and Eve are having difficulty becoming accustomed to the darkness of night, especially after leaving Eden, a place where there is no night. The incense provides a sweet smell, and the myrrh can comfort Adam and Eve in their sorrow. Adam and Eve place these gifts around their cave, which is their home, a place of prayer, and, eventually, a place of burial for the righteous.
Later, Adam on his deathbed is exhorting his righteous son, Seth. Adam instructs Seth to preserve the gold, incense, and myrrh, for they are a sign from God. They symbolize the same things that God told Adam earlier, but Adam also presents an alternative symbolism: the gold symbolizes Christ’s defeat of Satan; the incense symbolizes Christ’s resurrection and exaltation above all things; and the myrrh symbolizes the bitter gall that Christ will drink as well as the torment that Christ will suffer in hell from Satan.
Adam says that the gifts are to be taken aboard the Ark during the Flood, along with Adam’s corpse, and they are to be buried with Adam. A long time afterwards, Israel will be conquered and spoiled, and these gifts will be taken to another land. These gifts will last for centuries, until kings will bring them to the Christ child. The idea seems to be that this gold, incense, and myrrh end up in Persia after Israel is exiled, and the Persian magi later bring them to the child Jesus.
How do these items symbolize what they symbolize? Gold probably had royal associations, so that could be why it symbolized God’s kingdom. Incense may have symbolized Christ’s divinity in the sense that incense is sweet, and Christ’s divinity sweetened his humanity. It may have symbolized Christ’s resurrection because the sweet smell of incense rises, as Christ rose to heaven. Christ, according to many Christians, was a sweet offering to God: Christ righteously obeyed God and pleased God in so doing, and Christ’s sacrifice was an atonement for sinners that God accepted. The myrrh may have symbolized Christ’s passion because of its bitter taste; at the same time, Christ on the cross refused to drink wine mingled with myrrh, which could have alleviated his pain (Mark 15:23). Perhaps the myrrh in “The Conflict of Adam and Eve with Satan” recalled that scene at the passion.
Merry Christmas, for those who celebrate it. For those who do not, have a good day.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Movie Write-Up: Christmas with a Capital C
Christmas with a Capital C is a 2010 Christian movie produced by Pure Flix Entertainment. It was on TBN last night.
The movie is about a lawyer, Mitch Bright (played by Baldwin brother Daniel Baldwin), who returns to his hometown of Trapper Falls, Alaska. Mitch and the mayor of the town, Dan Reed, were rivals when they were growing up. The competed about everything—-sports, clubs, and Kristen (played by Nancy Stafford of Matlock), who would become Dan’s wife.
Mitch is an atheist, and he legally challenges the town’s display of a nativity scene on public property. He also encourages local businesses to say “Happy Holidays” and “Seasons Greetings” rather than “Merry Christmas.” Mitch decides to run against Dan for the mayor’s office. Dan wonders why Mitch has returned after all these years, and why he is launching a war on Christmas.
You may be thinking to yourself that this is a typical Christian movie about the Christmas wars: oh, woe are we Christians, for we are persecuted because people wish us “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas,” and we can’t display our nativity scene on publicly-owned property, even though we are allowed to display it on our church’s lawn! And, yes, the movie did have some of that Christian conservative rhetoric. It particularly came from Dan’s brother Greg, who is played by conservative comedian Brad Stine.
But the movie was not your typical Christian movie about the Christmas wars or the separation of church and state, for three reasons.
First of all, there was some recognition on the movie’s part about legal nuances in Establishment Clause cases. The law allows Christians to display nativity scenes, as long as it is not on taxpayer-supported property. Under the prevalent interpretation of the Establishment Clause, the government cannot promote a particular religion, but private individuals and groups can.
Second, there was some acknowledgment in the movie that this is all right. After all, Jesus is still Lord, and Christmas is still about him, whether or not there is a nativity scene on the public lawn. Kristen and the pastor propose that Christians in the town make Christmas about love and service rather than making a big stink about an atheist taking away their “rights.” The movie alternates between this meeting and Greg telling the Christmas story to his niece, nephew, and his nephew’s girlfriend: Israel expected a political messiah, but Jesus would be a messiah who would show love one person at a time.
Third, the atheist is not exactly demonized. Mitch thinks he is too sophisticated for Christianity and is upset at the hypocrisy and smug attitude of Christians he has known. He is also lonely, has no family, and has had financial setbacks, notwithstanding the prosperous image he tries to project. Mitch has also helped people in the past. Granted, a Christian movie will depict the atheist as deficient, in some sense, but this movie’s portrayal was not entirely negative.
The movie was still cheesy. The singing was bad. The dialogue was predictable, in places. Greg came across to me as a Robin Williams wannabe, as endearing as his character was. And, yes, the movie has been compared to How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Still, for a Christian movie about the Christmas wars, it was refreshing to watch.
The movie is about a lawyer, Mitch Bright (played by Baldwin brother Daniel Baldwin), who returns to his hometown of Trapper Falls, Alaska. Mitch and the mayor of the town, Dan Reed, were rivals when they were growing up. The competed about everything—-sports, clubs, and Kristen (played by Nancy Stafford of Matlock), who would become Dan’s wife.
Mitch is an atheist, and he legally challenges the town’s display of a nativity scene on public property. He also encourages local businesses to say “Happy Holidays” and “Seasons Greetings” rather than “Merry Christmas.” Mitch decides to run against Dan for the mayor’s office. Dan wonders why Mitch has returned after all these years, and why he is launching a war on Christmas.
You may be thinking to yourself that this is a typical Christian movie about the Christmas wars: oh, woe are we Christians, for we are persecuted because people wish us “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas,” and we can’t display our nativity scene on publicly-owned property, even though we are allowed to display it on our church’s lawn! And, yes, the movie did have some of that Christian conservative rhetoric. It particularly came from Dan’s brother Greg, who is played by conservative comedian Brad Stine.
But the movie was not your typical Christian movie about the Christmas wars or the separation of church and state, for three reasons.
First of all, there was some recognition on the movie’s part about legal nuances in Establishment Clause cases. The law allows Christians to display nativity scenes, as long as it is not on taxpayer-supported property. Under the prevalent interpretation of the Establishment Clause, the government cannot promote a particular religion, but private individuals and groups can.
Second, there was some acknowledgment in the movie that this is all right. After all, Jesus is still Lord, and Christmas is still about him, whether or not there is a nativity scene on the public lawn. Kristen and the pastor propose that Christians in the town make Christmas about love and service rather than making a big stink about an atheist taking away their “rights.” The movie alternates between this meeting and Greg telling the Christmas story to his niece, nephew, and his nephew’s girlfriend: Israel expected a political messiah, but Jesus would be a messiah who would show love one person at a time.
Third, the atheist is not exactly demonized. Mitch thinks he is too sophisticated for Christianity and is upset at the hypocrisy and smug attitude of Christians he has known. He is also lonely, has no family, and has had financial setbacks, notwithstanding the prosperous image he tries to project. Mitch has also helped people in the past. Granted, a Christian movie will depict the atheist as deficient, in some sense, but this movie’s portrayal was not entirely negative.
The movie was still cheesy. The singing was bad. The dialogue was predictable, in places. Greg came across to me as a Robin Williams wannabe, as endearing as his character was. And, yes, the movie has been compared to How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Still, for a Christian movie about the Christmas wars, it was refreshing to watch.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Can God Command Feelings?
I am reading John Frame’s A History of Western Philosophy and Theology. I received a complimentary review copy through NetGalley.
An issue that came up in my reading a few days ago is whether God can legitimately command people to believe or to feel a certain way.
In a footnote, Frame said that people can choose what they believe. According to Romans 1, Frame says, people choose to suppress the truth in unrighteousness. They choose to believe what is pleasing to them as opposed to the truth.
In another footnote, Frame was referring to Hegel’s problem with God commanding people to feel a certain way. Frame specifically mentioned Hegel’s problem with the command in Philippians 4:6: do not be anxious. Hegel wondered how anxious people can obey this command. Can they truly help how they feel?
In yet another footnote, Frame discussed the tendency of certain philosophers to treat law and love as dichotomous. Their assumption is that law pertains to outward actions, whereas love concerns feelings and motives. Frame responded that God’s law also can concern feelings and motives. Jesus, after all, prohibited hate in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:21-22).
I often have the same frustration as Hegel. I wonder if God is fair to command us to feel or not feel a certain way. I deal with anxiety and unforgiveness. There are times when I have difficulty turning these things off. And biblical passages about the fearful having a place in the Lake of Fire (Revelation 21:8) and God not forgiving those who do not forgive others (Matthew 6:14-15; Mark 11:25-26) do not help matters.
Would I prefer for God to judge me by my actions, not by my thoughts? Well, yes and no. On the one hand, I do not actively take revenge on people I may hate in my heart. I reason to myself that perhaps this may count as forgiveness before God. I hope that it does, even though, to be honest, there are a lot of factors limiting any revenge I might want to take against people: laws, a concern for my reputation, etc.
On the other hand, as an introvert, I would prefer to focus on what goes on inside of me as opposed to what I actually do. If I have a benevolent feeling for a person, I want that to count as love. Some may tell me that this is not enough: that I actually have to show a person love concretely. But certainly God is interested in my attitude, right? The attitude defines the sort of person one is, correct? Not surprisingly, as an introvert, I tend to prefer Christian teaching that tries to influence my attitude and perspective towards God, life, and other people. If my attitude and perspective are all right, I reason, then that will favorably influence how I interact with other people.
That is pretty contradictory, I know. Yet, there is some wisdom in both approaches. I may hate a person in my heart, but I only hurt the person if I act on that hatred. That means there is some love within me, right? Yet, attitudes and perspectives are important, for thoughts can influence actions.
I do think that people have some say-so in what they feel. I cannot turn off how I feel, and sometimes, as I have said before, simply telling myself to feel or not to feel a certain way does not really solve anything. But I can choose to go to God in prayer. I can breathe and meditate. I can read about people who have the same struggles that I do (which can be a double-edged sword). I can go to church, or therapy. Many people take medication.
Interestingly, the passage that troubled Hegel, Philippians 4:6, does not just tell people not to be anxious. It also tells people to make their requests to God with thanksgiving. V 7 goes on to say that, then, the peace of God will keep one’s heart and mind through Christ Jesus. Action can influence attitude. Plus, God plays a significant role in helping a person out.
An issue that came up in my reading a few days ago is whether God can legitimately command people to believe or to feel a certain way.
In a footnote, Frame said that people can choose what they believe. According to Romans 1, Frame says, people choose to suppress the truth in unrighteousness. They choose to believe what is pleasing to them as opposed to the truth.
In another footnote, Frame was referring to Hegel’s problem with God commanding people to feel a certain way. Frame specifically mentioned Hegel’s problem with the command in Philippians 4:6: do not be anxious. Hegel wondered how anxious people can obey this command. Can they truly help how they feel?
In yet another footnote, Frame discussed the tendency of certain philosophers to treat law and love as dichotomous. Their assumption is that law pertains to outward actions, whereas love concerns feelings and motives. Frame responded that God’s law also can concern feelings and motives. Jesus, after all, prohibited hate in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:21-22).
I often have the same frustration as Hegel. I wonder if God is fair to command us to feel or not feel a certain way. I deal with anxiety and unforgiveness. There are times when I have difficulty turning these things off. And biblical passages about the fearful having a place in the Lake of Fire (Revelation 21:8) and God not forgiving those who do not forgive others (Matthew 6:14-15; Mark 11:25-26) do not help matters.
Would I prefer for God to judge me by my actions, not by my thoughts? Well, yes and no. On the one hand, I do not actively take revenge on people I may hate in my heart. I reason to myself that perhaps this may count as forgiveness before God. I hope that it does, even though, to be honest, there are a lot of factors limiting any revenge I might want to take against people: laws, a concern for my reputation, etc.
On the other hand, as an introvert, I would prefer to focus on what goes on inside of me as opposed to what I actually do. If I have a benevolent feeling for a person, I want that to count as love. Some may tell me that this is not enough: that I actually have to show a person love concretely. But certainly God is interested in my attitude, right? The attitude defines the sort of person one is, correct? Not surprisingly, as an introvert, I tend to prefer Christian teaching that tries to influence my attitude and perspective towards God, life, and other people. If my attitude and perspective are all right, I reason, then that will favorably influence how I interact with other people.
That is pretty contradictory, I know. Yet, there is some wisdom in both approaches. I may hate a person in my heart, but I only hurt the person if I act on that hatred. That means there is some love within me, right? Yet, attitudes and perspectives are important, for thoughts can influence actions.
I do think that people have some say-so in what they feel. I cannot turn off how I feel, and sometimes, as I have said before, simply telling myself to feel or not to feel a certain way does not really solve anything. But I can choose to go to God in prayer. I can breathe and meditate. I can read about people who have the same struggles that I do (which can be a double-edged sword). I can go to church, or therapy. Many people take medication.
Interestingly, the passage that troubled Hegel, Philippians 4:6, does not just tell people not to be anxious. It also tells people to make their requests to God with thanksgiving. V 7 goes on to say that, then, the peace of God will keep one’s heart and mind through Christ Jesus. Action can influence attitude. Plus, God plays a significant role in helping a person out.
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Ramblings on WWJD and Jesus Being Superior to Us
I was flipping through channels last week and came across the
Catholic channel, EWTN. Mother Angelica was discussing theology with
some kids, probably sometime during the 1980s.
Mother Angelica was trying to highlight how wonderful the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ really was. She said that we may love people and feel sorry for them when they encounter misfortune. We may even desire for their situation to turn around for the better, and we may pray for that to happen in their lives. But very few, if any, of us would voluntarily take those people’s pain and suffer it ourselves. We may feel sorry for a person with cancer, she said, but we ourselves would not want to suffer that cancer. She said that her assessment of how human beings are is true of herself, and probably the kids in the audience.
Her goal was to contrast how we are with how God is. God did not just feel sorry for us, she said. Rather, God assumed the human condition. God the Son as Jesus Christ suffered what human beings suffer. Jesus even suffered and died on the cross.
That got me thinking about an apparent tension within Christianity (apparent to me, at least). On the one hand, Christianity wants to present God or Jesus as morally superior to human beings. When we see how God is superior to us, we are encouraged to worship him. On the other hand, Christians are also told that they are supposed to be like Jesus in how they behave. “WWJD” was on bracelets that Christians wore in the 1990s: we were encouraged to ask ourselves “What would Jesus do?” when making moral decisions. The thing is, as Mother Angelica said, we do not do what Jesus did. Even a spiritually mature nun like Mother Angelica admits that she does not! That is what makes Jesus so remarkable and admirable: he is vastly superior to us.
We see something similar in the Bible. Paul in Romans 5:7-8 contrasts God and Christ with human beings. Human beings, Paul says, would rarely die for somebody else, even if that person were righteous. Christ, however, died for us while we were still sinners. God’s love is superior to ours, which can enhance our appreciation of God.
At the same time, there does seem to be some notion in the Bible that Christians should imitate Christ. There are many such passages, but let me quote just one of them. I John 3:16 states: “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (KJV).
Are we expected to lay down our lives for others? Are we supposed to be assuming other people’s pain and burdens? Obviously, I cannot suffer cancer for somebody else. But should a Christian, say, assume somebody else’s debt? It may be a nice gesture on his or her part, but does God require that of Christians as part of the obedience that God demands?
There are passages in Scripture that appear level-headed on how to help, and when to help, other people. The Book of Proverbs often advises against becoming surety for somebody else’s debt (Proverbs 6:1; 11:15; 17:18), for that goes against a person’s self-interest. The book of Galatians talks about bearing one another’s burdens, but also about each person bearing his or her own load (Galatians 6:2, 5). I Timothy 5 specifies which widows the church should be helping.
It would be tempting for me to walk away from these passages with a selfish attitude, thinking that I am justified in not giving to others. But one cannot escape that giving is a prominent theme in Scripture. The same Book of Proverbs that is against surety promotes giving to people, especially people in need (Proverbs 11:25; 19:17; 22:9; etc.). I Timothy 5:10 speaks highly of the widows who lodge strangers and help the afflicted. There are passages in the Bible about the importance of work, and perhaps one can walk away from those passages thinking that he or she can tell the poor to “Get a job!” and not help them out. But one passage about the importance of work is Ephesians 4:28, which states that people should work with their hands so that they have enough to share with those in need.
I suspect that, on the whole, the Bible (from a Christian perspective) is rather realistic about how we are to imitate Christ. Let’s go back to I John 3:16, which tells Christians to lay down their lives for the brethren. Obviously, Christians cannot do this on a regular basis, for they only have one life to lay down. But what does the next verse say? “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (KJV). I John 3 is about not hating others, but helping the needy when one has the means to do so. That seems to be what imitating Christ is about.
This does not close the door on the subject. Some may feel called to put themselves in dangerous situations for the well being of others. There is also the question of how much to give. Plus, as individuals, we cannot help every single person who needs help. We may justifiably feel reluctant even to help every single person we know who needs help, since, if we do that, there will not be anything left for ourselves (unless God truly does provide, in such cases)!
Something that I was thinking about when watching Mother Angelica was that I have long assumed that Christianity requires me to have deep love for everyone. I figured that I am not only expected to have the sort of love that suffers towards someone I actually do love; I am expected to have that same sort of love for someone I barely know. I doubt that God places this heavy burden on my shoulders. But God does want me to respect the humanity of someone I barely know, and maybe even to help.
I believe that God is superior to us, and that is all right. We can glory in God, while allowing our own limitations to enhance this worship. We are free to be human, each day. But I also believe that we are also called to become better, to think about others, and (in some cases) to help. Some may even be called to saintly acts. Of course, people can use this insight to justify their comfortable middle class lifestyle, and, in those cases, people should probably wrestle with whether they are giving enough, or doing enough. We cannot be totally like Jesus, but we can try to be more like him.
Mother Angelica was trying to highlight how wonderful the incarnation of God in Jesus Christ really was. She said that we may love people and feel sorry for them when they encounter misfortune. We may even desire for their situation to turn around for the better, and we may pray for that to happen in their lives. But very few, if any, of us would voluntarily take those people’s pain and suffer it ourselves. We may feel sorry for a person with cancer, she said, but we ourselves would not want to suffer that cancer. She said that her assessment of how human beings are is true of herself, and probably the kids in the audience.
Her goal was to contrast how we are with how God is. God did not just feel sorry for us, she said. Rather, God assumed the human condition. God the Son as Jesus Christ suffered what human beings suffer. Jesus even suffered and died on the cross.
That got me thinking about an apparent tension within Christianity (apparent to me, at least). On the one hand, Christianity wants to present God or Jesus as morally superior to human beings. When we see how God is superior to us, we are encouraged to worship him. On the other hand, Christians are also told that they are supposed to be like Jesus in how they behave. “WWJD” was on bracelets that Christians wore in the 1990s: we were encouraged to ask ourselves “What would Jesus do?” when making moral decisions. The thing is, as Mother Angelica said, we do not do what Jesus did. Even a spiritually mature nun like Mother Angelica admits that she does not! That is what makes Jesus so remarkable and admirable: he is vastly superior to us.
We see something similar in the Bible. Paul in Romans 5:7-8 contrasts God and Christ with human beings. Human beings, Paul says, would rarely die for somebody else, even if that person were righteous. Christ, however, died for us while we were still sinners. God’s love is superior to ours, which can enhance our appreciation of God.
At the same time, there does seem to be some notion in the Bible that Christians should imitate Christ. There are many such passages, but let me quote just one of them. I John 3:16 states: “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (KJV).
Are we expected to lay down our lives for others? Are we supposed to be assuming other people’s pain and burdens? Obviously, I cannot suffer cancer for somebody else. But should a Christian, say, assume somebody else’s debt? It may be a nice gesture on his or her part, but does God require that of Christians as part of the obedience that God demands?
There are passages in Scripture that appear level-headed on how to help, and when to help, other people. The Book of Proverbs often advises against becoming surety for somebody else’s debt (Proverbs 6:1; 11:15; 17:18), for that goes against a person’s self-interest. The book of Galatians talks about bearing one another’s burdens, but also about each person bearing his or her own load (Galatians 6:2, 5). I Timothy 5 specifies which widows the church should be helping.
It would be tempting for me to walk away from these passages with a selfish attitude, thinking that I am justified in not giving to others. But one cannot escape that giving is a prominent theme in Scripture. The same Book of Proverbs that is against surety promotes giving to people, especially people in need (Proverbs 11:25; 19:17; 22:9; etc.). I Timothy 5:10 speaks highly of the widows who lodge strangers and help the afflicted. There are passages in the Bible about the importance of work, and perhaps one can walk away from those passages thinking that he or she can tell the poor to “Get a job!” and not help them out. But one passage about the importance of work is Ephesians 4:28, which states that people should work with their hands so that they have enough to share with those in need.
I suspect that, on the whole, the Bible (from a Christian perspective) is rather realistic about how we are to imitate Christ. Let’s go back to I John 3:16, which tells Christians to lay down their lives for the brethren. Obviously, Christians cannot do this on a regular basis, for they only have one life to lay down. But what does the next verse say? “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (KJV). I John 3 is about not hating others, but helping the needy when one has the means to do so. That seems to be what imitating Christ is about.
This does not close the door on the subject. Some may feel called to put themselves in dangerous situations for the well being of others. There is also the question of how much to give. Plus, as individuals, we cannot help every single person who needs help. We may justifiably feel reluctant even to help every single person we know who needs help, since, if we do that, there will not be anything left for ourselves (unless God truly does provide, in such cases)!
Something that I was thinking about when watching Mother Angelica was that I have long assumed that Christianity requires me to have deep love for everyone. I figured that I am not only expected to have the sort of love that suffers towards someone I actually do love; I am expected to have that same sort of love for someone I barely know. I doubt that God places this heavy burden on my shoulders. But God does want me to respect the humanity of someone I barely know, and maybe even to help.
I believe that God is superior to us, and that is all right. We can glory in God, while allowing our own limitations to enhance this worship. We are free to be human, each day. But I also believe that we are also called to become better, to think about others, and (in some cases) to help. Some may even be called to saintly acts. Of course, people can use this insight to justify their comfortable middle class lifestyle, and, in those cases, people should probably wrestle with whether they are giving enough, or doing enough. We cannot be totally like Jesus, but we can try to be more like him.
Monday, December 21, 2015
Book Write-Up: Solomon's Song, by Roberta Kells Dorr
Roberta Kells Dorr. Solomon’s Song. Chicago: River North, 2014. See here to buy the book.
Solomon’s Song is the third novel by Roberta Kells Dorr that I have read. The other two books that I read are Abraham and Sarah and Sons of Isaac. Solomon’s Song is a reprint of Dorr’s 1989 novel, Shulamit. Shulamit is the female protagonist in the biblical Song of Solomon.
I have had questions whenever I have read the biblical Song of Solomon, and I was curious about how Solomon’s Song would address them. The Song of Solomon is about a romance between a man and a woman. People in the woman’s family try to hinder that romance. The man in the book appears to be in a state of vulnerability. The main questions in my mind have been: How could this man be Solomon? Would anyone be able to hinder Solomon, a powerful king? Why would Solomon have to sneak around to see a woman he loved?
Of course, there are other ways to interpret the Song of Solomon. Some say that the Song of Solomon is about a woman and a shepherd, and the woman chooses to be with the shepherd rather than the glorious Solomon. Others may say that the Song of Solomon was simply a poem about love (a wasf), and it was later attributed to Solomon. There are others who view it as an allegory of God’s love for Israel, or God’s love of the church. I am still curious about how one can interpret the man in the Song of Solomon to be Solomon. And, since I enjoyed the previous two Dorr novels that I read (especially Abraham and Sarah), I decided to read Solomon’s Song to see how she approached this issue.
Essentially, Dorr in Solomon’s Song conflates three Bible stories. First, of course, there is the Song of Solomon. Second, there is the story in II Samuel 21 about the Gibeonites and the hanging of Saul’s sons. There has been a famine in Israel for three years, and King David learns from God that this is because David’s predecessor, Saul, killed Gibeonites in his zeal. This violated an oath that Israel swore to Gibeon (Joshua 9). The Gibeonites ask David for permission to hang seven of Saul’s sons, and David lets them do so. The mother of two of these sons, Rizpah, protects Saul’s hanging sons from the birds and the beasts. When David learns of Rizpah’s act, David gathers the bones of Saul and Saul’s son Jonathan, as well as the bones of those who were hanged, and he buries them in Benjamin, in the grave of Kish, Saul’s father. V 14 says: “And after that God was intreated for the land” (KJV).
The third Bible story is in I Kings 1-2. David is old, and his servants decide that he needs a young virgin to keep him warm. They search the coasts of Israel and find Abishag the Shunammite. Abishag serves the king and keeps him warm, but they never have sexual intercourse. Meanwhile, David’s son, Adonijah, is plotting to take over the throne, even though God (II Samuel 7) and David promised that David’s son Solomon would be king. Adonijah is gaining powerful allies. David anoints Solomon king, and Adonijah fears for his life. Solomon spares Adonijah, but Adonijah later goes to David’s favorite wife, Bathsheba, and asks to marry Abishag. That is a power play on Adonijah’s part, and Solomon has Adonijah put to death.
In Solomon’s Song, David’s servants look for a woman so that King David can sleep with her and thereby end the famine, since there is a Canaanite belief that the fecundity of the land depends on the sexual virility of the king. Bathsheba leads the search, and Adonijah and Solomon accompany her. They go to Northern Israel, where there is a rich shepherd. The shepherd hides his daughter, Shulamit, since he does not want to lose her. Adonijah wears his royal apparel, but Solomon dresses as a lowly shepherd. Solomon meets Shulamit, and they develop a rapport. Shulamit takes Solomon to see the cave where Saul met with the witch of Endor (I Samuel 28). Shulamit is not yet aware that Solomon is a prince.
Bathsheba decides that Shulamit will be the one who will marry King David. Shulamit is known as Abishag by her brothers, because they see her as their father’s mistake: their father’s favorite wife had only a girl, but no sons. (In terms of the Hebrew, “Abi” means “my father,” and the verb sh-g-g and sh-g-h can relate to an error.) Shulamit’s father agrees to let her go, in exchange for a piece of Solomon’s vineyard, which is in the north.
Shulamit is initially enamored with Adonijah on account of his royal prestige, but she comes to dislike him due to his conniving character. She loves Solomon, and King David agrees not to sleep with her on account of this. Bathsheba is not particularly happy about the bond between Solomon and Shulamit. Bathsheba wants for Solomon to marry a princess, since that would give Solomon more credentials for the throne. Solomon marries the Ammonite princess Naamah (who would later be the mother of Solomon’s son and successor, Rehoboam; I Kings 14:21). Solomon thinks this is a wise decision, since then the Ammonites would allow Israel to use the king’s highway, an important trading route, rather than forming an alliance to block Israel’s use of it.
How does the plot in Solomon’s Song mesh, or not mesh, with the biblical Song of Solomon? Solomon and Shulamit are cut off from each other, due to misunderstandings and Solomon’s desire to fulfill his mother’s expectations. That is how Dorr accounts for the times in the Song of Solomon when the man leaves the woman, or the woman searches for the man. Solomon initially dresses as a shepherd, and that is how Dorr accounts for Solomon being the lowly man in the Song of Solomon. Adonijah forms an alliance with Shulamit’s seven brothers, which could be Dorr’s way of explaining how the seven brothers were trying to inhibit the relationship between the man and the woman.
Solomon’s Song also adds political intrigue (or political considerations) to the story in II Samuel 21 about Saul’s sons and the Gibeonites. Saul killed the Gibeonites so that he could establish God’s sanctuary in Gibeon, which is where the Tabernacle came to be (I Chronicles 21:29). Adonijah supports executing Saul’s sons because that could eliminate competition for the throne. The problem is that this alienated the Benjamites, so God told David to bury Saul, Jonathan, and Saul’s sons as a way to appease them.
I did like Dorr’s approach of trying different biblical themes together. Dorr also explored a theme that appeared in her other two books that I read: how does one know that the God of Israel is the true God, whereas the gods of other nations are false? On the negative side, I found the romance between Shulamite and Solomon to be a bit shallow. It could have been executed a lot better than it was, but, as it stood, it did not really tug on my heartstrings. I did not entirely understand Bathsheba’s problem, since Solomon could have easily married Shulamit and a princess, a point that is acknowledged in the book. The book was somewhat scattered, and the characterization was not always as consistent as I would have liked.
Dorr’s epilogue was interesting, though, because she was offering her own ideas about the Song of Solomon. She speculated that Solomon may have married the hundreds of women whom he married because he was trying, in vain, to replace Shulamit. She also speculated that Solomon may have written the Song of Songs as a way to unite the north and the south. Many scholars say that the Hebrew style of the Song of Songs is later than the Hebrew of the time of Solomon. Still, perhaps there is a reason that a romantic story set in the north became a sacred book in ancient Israel.
Solomon’s Song is the third novel by Roberta Kells Dorr that I have read. The other two books that I read are Abraham and Sarah and Sons of Isaac. Solomon’s Song is a reprint of Dorr’s 1989 novel, Shulamit. Shulamit is the female protagonist in the biblical Song of Solomon.
I have had questions whenever I have read the biblical Song of Solomon, and I was curious about how Solomon’s Song would address them. The Song of Solomon is about a romance between a man and a woman. People in the woman’s family try to hinder that romance. The man in the book appears to be in a state of vulnerability. The main questions in my mind have been: How could this man be Solomon? Would anyone be able to hinder Solomon, a powerful king? Why would Solomon have to sneak around to see a woman he loved?
Of course, there are other ways to interpret the Song of Solomon. Some say that the Song of Solomon is about a woman and a shepherd, and the woman chooses to be with the shepherd rather than the glorious Solomon. Others may say that the Song of Solomon was simply a poem about love (a wasf), and it was later attributed to Solomon. There are others who view it as an allegory of God’s love for Israel, or God’s love of the church. I am still curious about how one can interpret the man in the Song of Solomon to be Solomon. And, since I enjoyed the previous two Dorr novels that I read (especially Abraham and Sarah), I decided to read Solomon’s Song to see how she approached this issue.
Essentially, Dorr in Solomon’s Song conflates three Bible stories. First, of course, there is the Song of Solomon. Second, there is the story in II Samuel 21 about the Gibeonites and the hanging of Saul’s sons. There has been a famine in Israel for three years, and King David learns from God that this is because David’s predecessor, Saul, killed Gibeonites in his zeal. This violated an oath that Israel swore to Gibeon (Joshua 9). The Gibeonites ask David for permission to hang seven of Saul’s sons, and David lets them do so. The mother of two of these sons, Rizpah, protects Saul’s hanging sons from the birds and the beasts. When David learns of Rizpah’s act, David gathers the bones of Saul and Saul’s son Jonathan, as well as the bones of those who were hanged, and he buries them in Benjamin, in the grave of Kish, Saul’s father. V 14 says: “And after that God was intreated for the land” (KJV).
The third Bible story is in I Kings 1-2. David is old, and his servants decide that he needs a young virgin to keep him warm. They search the coasts of Israel and find Abishag the Shunammite. Abishag serves the king and keeps him warm, but they never have sexual intercourse. Meanwhile, David’s son, Adonijah, is plotting to take over the throne, even though God (II Samuel 7) and David promised that David’s son Solomon would be king. Adonijah is gaining powerful allies. David anoints Solomon king, and Adonijah fears for his life. Solomon spares Adonijah, but Adonijah later goes to David’s favorite wife, Bathsheba, and asks to marry Abishag. That is a power play on Adonijah’s part, and Solomon has Adonijah put to death.
In Solomon’s Song, David’s servants look for a woman so that King David can sleep with her and thereby end the famine, since there is a Canaanite belief that the fecundity of the land depends on the sexual virility of the king. Bathsheba leads the search, and Adonijah and Solomon accompany her. They go to Northern Israel, where there is a rich shepherd. The shepherd hides his daughter, Shulamit, since he does not want to lose her. Adonijah wears his royal apparel, but Solomon dresses as a lowly shepherd. Solomon meets Shulamit, and they develop a rapport. Shulamit takes Solomon to see the cave where Saul met with the witch of Endor (I Samuel 28). Shulamit is not yet aware that Solomon is a prince.
Bathsheba decides that Shulamit will be the one who will marry King David. Shulamit is known as Abishag by her brothers, because they see her as their father’s mistake: their father’s favorite wife had only a girl, but no sons. (In terms of the Hebrew, “Abi” means “my father,” and the verb sh-g-g and sh-g-h can relate to an error.) Shulamit’s father agrees to let her go, in exchange for a piece of Solomon’s vineyard, which is in the north.
Shulamit is initially enamored with Adonijah on account of his royal prestige, but she comes to dislike him due to his conniving character. She loves Solomon, and King David agrees not to sleep with her on account of this. Bathsheba is not particularly happy about the bond between Solomon and Shulamit. Bathsheba wants for Solomon to marry a princess, since that would give Solomon more credentials for the throne. Solomon marries the Ammonite princess Naamah (who would later be the mother of Solomon’s son and successor, Rehoboam; I Kings 14:21). Solomon thinks this is a wise decision, since then the Ammonites would allow Israel to use the king’s highway, an important trading route, rather than forming an alliance to block Israel’s use of it.
How does the plot in Solomon’s Song mesh, or not mesh, with the biblical Song of Solomon? Solomon and Shulamit are cut off from each other, due to misunderstandings and Solomon’s desire to fulfill his mother’s expectations. That is how Dorr accounts for the times in the Song of Solomon when the man leaves the woman, or the woman searches for the man. Solomon initially dresses as a shepherd, and that is how Dorr accounts for Solomon being the lowly man in the Song of Solomon. Adonijah forms an alliance with Shulamit’s seven brothers, which could be Dorr’s way of explaining how the seven brothers were trying to inhibit the relationship between the man and the woman.
Solomon’s Song also adds political intrigue (or political considerations) to the story in II Samuel 21 about Saul’s sons and the Gibeonites. Saul killed the Gibeonites so that he could establish God’s sanctuary in Gibeon, which is where the Tabernacle came to be (I Chronicles 21:29). Adonijah supports executing Saul’s sons because that could eliminate competition for the throne. The problem is that this alienated the Benjamites, so God told David to bury Saul, Jonathan, and Saul’s sons as a way to appease them.
I did like Dorr’s approach of trying different biblical themes together. Dorr also explored a theme that appeared in her other two books that I read: how does one know that the God of Israel is the true God, whereas the gods of other nations are false? On the negative side, I found the romance between Shulamite and Solomon to be a bit shallow. It could have been executed a lot better than it was, but, as it stood, it did not really tug on my heartstrings. I did not entirely understand Bathsheba’s problem, since Solomon could have easily married Shulamit and a princess, a point that is acknowledged in the book. The book was somewhat scattered, and the characterization was not always as consistent as I would have liked.
Dorr’s epilogue was interesting, though, because she was offering her own ideas about the Song of Solomon. She speculated that Solomon may have married the hundreds of women whom he married because he was trying, in vain, to replace Shulamit. She also speculated that Solomon may have written the Song of Songs as a way to unite the north and the south. Many scholars say that the Hebrew style of the Song of Songs is later than the Hebrew of the time of Solomon. Still, perhaps there is a reason that a romantic story set in the north became a sacred book in ancient Israel.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Ramblings on Grace, Life, and Theology, in Light of This Morning's Sermon
At church this morning, the pastor made five points that especially stood out to me.
A. The pastor said that God has shown us love through Jesus Christ, and now it’s on us. God has done all that God can do to show us God’s love. It is now up to us to decide what to do in response to that. We can disregard God’s grace and throw it to the side. Or we can accept it and let it change us.
B. The pastor said that God may be surprised by how we act. God is surprised that we reject God’s love and grace. To do so makes no sense.
C. The pastor was talking about the Christmas card and the barn. Both of these are literal, yet also symbolic. The Christmas card represents the warm feelings that people have on Christmas. Pictures on Christmas cards, even pictures that make no sense (such as a church surrounded by snow with no path to get to it), encourage a sense of warmth within people who see them. The barn, on the other hand, represents the less pleasant aspects of life. Mary had her baby in a barn, a place that was smelly and was not particularly clean or comfortable. The pastor talked about the importance of balance: the Christmas card without the barn is problematic, but so is the barn without the Christmas card. According to him, Mary and Joseph went through stressful and uncomfortable times as Mary was pregnant and having her baby, but they eventually arrived at some sense of calm, purpose, and warmth.
D. Does God truly have free choice? The pastor said that God is loving by nature—-as if God cannot help but love us. Yet, the pastor was saying that God became incarnate in Jesus Christ even though God did not have to do so. God expressly chose this path of identification with the human race. The pastor also talked about the tension within Jesus’ will in the Garden of Gethsemane: Jesus did not want to die on the cross, but he voluntarily submitted to God.
E. The pastor was presenting a definition or a conceptualization of God’s love, and it included God liking us.
Now, I’d like to offer my brief reactions to each point.
A. I have often felt that God could do more to show his love for me concretely, to show me that he is and that he knows my address and loves me. I am also skeptical about the idea so pervasive in evangelical circles that accepting and believing in God’s love can automatically transform a person, making that person more loving to others and more accepting. Often, at least speaking for myself personally, there is a disconnect between head and heart, or between head and actions. Even what I tell my head may not permeate it. Plus, I struggle with whether the Bible and Christianity actually portray a God of unconditional love. They do present God’s love, on some level, but they also seem to attach a lot of conditions! But I need some foundation on which to build, and seeing God as loving is more constructive than not seeing God as loving. Seeing God as loving is consistent with the Bible’s portrayal of God, for God in the Bible sent Jesus Christ to suffer and die for us, plus God patiently put up with people’s sins.
B. Is God surprised by how we act? On the one hand, there does seem to be bafflement on the part of God and Jesus. In Micah 6:3-4, God asks sinful Israel how exactly God has burdened her, and he refers to the good things that God has done for Israel: the Exodus and sending Israel leaders. God appears to be perplexed by how Israel is acting, especially after God’s benevolence and kindness towards her. In Matthew 23:37 and Luke 13:34, Jesus laments that Jerusalem has stoned God’s messengers and has rejected Jesus’ offer (or God’s offer) to gather her as a hen gathers her chickens beneath her wings.
On the other hand, there are indications that Jesus was not particularly surprised by how people were receiving him. Jesus even had an idea about why people were rejecting him. In John 3:19-20, Jesus said that people were not coming to the light because their deeds were evil.
I know that I am afraid of coming to the light because my attitudes are evil. I am afraid that people would judge me as petty, selfish, and unloving, or that I would feel compelled to do things that I cannot do, or may not even want to do. The context in which one places that thought in John 3:19-20 is important and makes all the difference: one can put that within the context of God telling us that we suck, or one can put that within the context of God’s love. Humans, including many Christians, will often do the former, at least when it comes to how they view other people’s sins: so-and-so is afraid of the light because that person sucks and is deficient in character, and that’s basically it! Hopefully that is not how God approaches the situation!
C. I do not have much to say about “C,” but it is a good insight. I need the bad times to appreciate the good times. Plus, I should not rest in my own good times while ignoring other people’s bad times. Bad times may or may not be a part of God’s perfect will, but they are there. They are a part of real life. They should be acknowledged, but hope should be part of the equation somewhere in a person’s attitude.
D. I have been reading John Frame’s A History of Western Philosophy and Theology (and I received a review copy through NetGalley, just to make that clear). Frame talks about how different thinkers interacted with the question of whether God has free will. Some believed that God did what was rational and could do no other. Others thought that God’s choices are not determined by rationality and that God could do all sorts of things: that God could have done other than what God did.
I cannot say that I have arrived at a solution to this that satisfies me entirely. That latter option, in which God has libertarian free will, does not set right for me because I cannot envision a choice having no basis in at least something. I believe that, when God makes a decision, there is a reason for it, and God’s decision is not arbitrary, nor does it just pop into existence out of nowhere; it is motivated by something. At the same time, I do believe that God can select among a variety of righteous options, that there is not just one righteous or rational path that God by nature has to follow.
E. I know that I often try to justify myself, from a Christian or ethical standpoint, by saying: “I love so-and-so, but I do not like so-and-so.” Often, I say that even though I cannot stand so-and-so and my stomach churns when I think about so-and-so! Some well-meaning Christians—-the ones who do not tell me that I suck—-may try to reassure me by saying that God loves everyone, but God does not like everyone. There may be something to that. Personally speaking, I would not feel good if God loved me but did not like me. Can I view others as I would like God to view me? Not really. I can try to see the good in other people, but, again, the head does not always reach the heart. What I tell the head does not even penetrate the head! What can I do but go to God in prayer about this?
A. The pastor said that God has shown us love through Jesus Christ, and now it’s on us. God has done all that God can do to show us God’s love. It is now up to us to decide what to do in response to that. We can disregard God’s grace and throw it to the side. Or we can accept it and let it change us.
B. The pastor said that God may be surprised by how we act. God is surprised that we reject God’s love and grace. To do so makes no sense.
C. The pastor was talking about the Christmas card and the barn. Both of these are literal, yet also symbolic. The Christmas card represents the warm feelings that people have on Christmas. Pictures on Christmas cards, even pictures that make no sense (such as a church surrounded by snow with no path to get to it), encourage a sense of warmth within people who see them. The barn, on the other hand, represents the less pleasant aspects of life. Mary had her baby in a barn, a place that was smelly and was not particularly clean or comfortable. The pastor talked about the importance of balance: the Christmas card without the barn is problematic, but so is the barn without the Christmas card. According to him, Mary and Joseph went through stressful and uncomfortable times as Mary was pregnant and having her baby, but they eventually arrived at some sense of calm, purpose, and warmth.
D. Does God truly have free choice? The pastor said that God is loving by nature—-as if God cannot help but love us. Yet, the pastor was saying that God became incarnate in Jesus Christ even though God did not have to do so. God expressly chose this path of identification with the human race. The pastor also talked about the tension within Jesus’ will in the Garden of Gethsemane: Jesus did not want to die on the cross, but he voluntarily submitted to God.
E. The pastor was presenting a definition or a conceptualization of God’s love, and it included God liking us.
Now, I’d like to offer my brief reactions to each point.
A. I have often felt that God could do more to show his love for me concretely, to show me that he is and that he knows my address and loves me. I am also skeptical about the idea so pervasive in evangelical circles that accepting and believing in God’s love can automatically transform a person, making that person more loving to others and more accepting. Often, at least speaking for myself personally, there is a disconnect between head and heart, or between head and actions. Even what I tell my head may not permeate it. Plus, I struggle with whether the Bible and Christianity actually portray a God of unconditional love. They do present God’s love, on some level, but they also seem to attach a lot of conditions! But I need some foundation on which to build, and seeing God as loving is more constructive than not seeing God as loving. Seeing God as loving is consistent with the Bible’s portrayal of God, for God in the Bible sent Jesus Christ to suffer and die for us, plus God patiently put up with people’s sins.
B. Is God surprised by how we act? On the one hand, there does seem to be bafflement on the part of God and Jesus. In Micah 6:3-4, God asks sinful Israel how exactly God has burdened her, and he refers to the good things that God has done for Israel: the Exodus and sending Israel leaders. God appears to be perplexed by how Israel is acting, especially after God’s benevolence and kindness towards her. In Matthew 23:37 and Luke 13:34, Jesus laments that Jerusalem has stoned God’s messengers and has rejected Jesus’ offer (or God’s offer) to gather her as a hen gathers her chickens beneath her wings.
On the other hand, there are indications that Jesus was not particularly surprised by how people were receiving him. Jesus even had an idea about why people were rejecting him. In John 3:19-20, Jesus said that people were not coming to the light because their deeds were evil.
I know that I am afraid of coming to the light because my attitudes are evil. I am afraid that people would judge me as petty, selfish, and unloving, or that I would feel compelled to do things that I cannot do, or may not even want to do. The context in which one places that thought in John 3:19-20 is important and makes all the difference: one can put that within the context of God telling us that we suck, or one can put that within the context of God’s love. Humans, including many Christians, will often do the former, at least when it comes to how they view other people’s sins: so-and-so is afraid of the light because that person sucks and is deficient in character, and that’s basically it! Hopefully that is not how God approaches the situation!
C. I do not have much to say about “C,” but it is a good insight. I need the bad times to appreciate the good times. Plus, I should not rest in my own good times while ignoring other people’s bad times. Bad times may or may not be a part of God’s perfect will, but they are there. They are a part of real life. They should be acknowledged, but hope should be part of the equation somewhere in a person’s attitude.
D. I have been reading John Frame’s A History of Western Philosophy and Theology (and I received a review copy through NetGalley, just to make that clear). Frame talks about how different thinkers interacted with the question of whether God has free will. Some believed that God did what was rational and could do no other. Others thought that God’s choices are not determined by rationality and that God could do all sorts of things: that God could have done other than what God did.
I cannot say that I have arrived at a solution to this that satisfies me entirely. That latter option, in which God has libertarian free will, does not set right for me because I cannot envision a choice having no basis in at least something. I believe that, when God makes a decision, there is a reason for it, and God’s decision is not arbitrary, nor does it just pop into existence out of nowhere; it is motivated by something. At the same time, I do believe that God can select among a variety of righteous options, that there is not just one righteous or rational path that God by nature has to follow.
E. I know that I often try to justify myself, from a Christian or ethical standpoint, by saying: “I love so-and-so, but I do not like so-and-so.” Often, I say that even though I cannot stand so-and-so and my stomach churns when I think about so-and-so! Some well-meaning Christians—-the ones who do not tell me that I suck—-may try to reassure me by saying that God loves everyone, but God does not like everyone. There may be something to that. Personally speaking, I would not feel good if God loved me but did not like me. Can I view others as I would like God to view me? Not really. I can try to see the good in other people, but, again, the head does not always reach the heart. What I tell the head does not even penetrate the head! What can I do but go to God in prayer about this?
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