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In Ezekiel 16:3, Ezekiel tells Jerusalem that her father was an Amorite and her mother was a Hittite. What does this mean? Abraham was not an Amorite, and Sarah was not a Hittite.
Different exegetes have tried to explain this verse. Some focus on the city of Jerusalem, which is, after all, mentioned in the chapter. My HarperCollins Study Bible and Jewish Study Bible both point out that Jerusalem was once a Canaanite city, so Jerusalem was the offspring of Canaanites. My problem with this approach is that it does not really account for other features of the chapter. Ezekiel 16 says that Jerusalem was rejected and forsaken before God decided to raise her as his own and make her beautiful. As far as I know, these things did not happen to the actual city of Jerusalem. When David took it over in 2 Samuel 5 and made it his own city, he did not find it rejected and forsaken. Jebusites liked it enough to live there. Ezekiel 16 probably uses the term "Jerusalem" to mean the entire kingdom of Judah (or the representative of Judah), the same way that prophets use the term "Samaria" for the northern kingdom (see vv 45-46).
Another explanation is that the Amorites and the Hittites preceded the Israelites in the land of Canaan, so they could be called the parents of the Israelites. Maybe, but, again, that does not fit into the theme of Ezekiel 16:1-14: that God found Israel in a pitiful state and chose to love her. The Israelites' bad parents have something to do with that pitiful condition.
The same goes for another popular interpretation, which says that the Israelites were children of the Canaanites in the sense that they imitated Canaanite wickedness. I will call this the spiritual interpretation, since it says that the Israelites were the offspring of the Canaanites in a spiritual, religious, or moral sense. There is some merit to this interpretation, since vv 43-51 condemn Jerusalem's wickedness while calling her the daughter of Canaanites and the sister of Sodom. At the same time, Israel's bad parents cannot relate only to her wickedness in the sixth century B.C.E., when Ezekiel criticized her. In the story that Ezekiel 16 presents, God made Jerusalem beautiful and then she began to decline morally. But, in Ezekiel 16, she was not only the daughter of Canaanites after God made her beautiful. She was the daughter of an Amorite and a Hittite when God first found her in her pitiful condition.
At the moment, the best I can do is to combine the spiritual interpretation with what Ezekiel says about Israel's sojourn in Egypt (prior to the Exodus). According to Ezekiel 20 and 23, Israel was an idolatrous whore even in the land of Egypt. Israel's experience in Egypt resembles what Ezekiel says about Jerusalem in Ezekiel 16: In Egypt, Israel was mistreated, bruised, and despised, until God decided to deliver her and make her his own. When God found Israel in Egypt, Israel was also like an Amorite and a Hittite in terms of her immoral behavior. Still, God showed Israel grace.
Are there any other interpretations that you know?
Monday, September 3, 2007
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Noah, Daniel, and Job
In Ezekiel 14:13-20, God says that he will not deliver the land from famine and destruction. To emphasize this point, God says that, even if Noah, Daniel, and Job were in the land, they would only deliver their own lives by their righteousness, not the lives of their family or others.
Why does Ezekiel mention these three? Exegetes have struggled with this question. Dr. Jacob Klein of Bar-Ilan University gave a homily in which he mentioned the views of Rashi and Radak, who were medieval Jewish commentators. For example, Rashi notes that all three survived the destruction of an old world (or state) and the creation of a new. Radak says that they delivered only themselves by their righteousness.
I have problems with these explanations because they miss a crucial point: Ezekiel's audience assumes that these three figures would deliver them if they were alive and in the land. That is why God goes out of his way to stress the opposite. The audience already knows that the three men would deliver themselves by their righteousness. What Ezekiel wants to refute is the idea that they could deliver others as well.
Are there other explanations for referring to these three men? One possibility is that the three figures were intercessors, explaining why Ezekiel stresses that they could not deliver others. Noah did not intercede for the flood generation, but he did save his children, including the depraved Ham. Job prayed for his friends in Job 42:7-9. Daniel is a hard one to fit into this scheme. The biblical Daniel prayed for his people in Daniel 9, but that was in the time of Darius, long after Ezekiel wrote. Daniel probably did not have a reputation as an intercessor during Ezekiel's time.
If Daniel in Ezekiel 14 is actually the ancient Near Eastern king Danel (as many scholars argue), then the scheme may work, depending on how the Danel story ended. Unfortunately, the ending is lost. In the Aqhat epic, Danel is a righteous king who defends the fatherless and the widow. The chief god, El, grants him a son at his request, and the son is later killed, resulting in a famine. Both my HarperCollins Study Bible and my Jewish Study Bible assume that Danel succeeds in reviving his dead son, presumably through his influence on El. That would make Danel a successful intercessor. Plus, the Aqhat epic and Ezekiel 14 both mention famine, so Ezekiel may have had the story in mind. But would Ezekiel appeal to a legend that had pagan gods?
Another possibility is that Ezekiel's audience held that the three men would deliver the entire land through their presence, the same way that God would have delivered Sodom if he found ten righteous people there (Genesis 18). Perhaps, but why pick these men for that point? Noah's presence on the earth did not move God to save every person. So why would Ezekiel's audience expect God to save all of Judah for Noah's sake?
Here is another anomaly: Assuming that Daniel is Danel, all three of these men are Gentiles. Ezekiel could have appealed to Abraham or Moses, but he did not. Is this significant? Dr. Klein tries to see some meaning in this detail, but I do not understand his point. Klein says that God wants to show that individual retribution for sin and righteousness is a universal law, but it does not apply to Jerusalem, since even wicked people survived (at least I think that is his argument). The problem is that Ezekiel 18 defends individual retribution with respect to Judah. I will not throw the baby out with the bathwater, though. Maybe Ezekiel 14 does foreshadow Ezekiel 18 by showing that everyone in the world is rewarding and punished for his own personal behavior. Perhaps the reference to righteous Gentiles is also meant to shame the wicked Judeans, who prided themselves as God's chosen people.
Any thoughts?
Why does Ezekiel mention these three? Exegetes have struggled with this question. Dr. Jacob Klein of Bar-Ilan University gave a homily in which he mentioned the views of Rashi and Radak, who were medieval Jewish commentators. For example, Rashi notes that all three survived the destruction of an old world (or state) and the creation of a new. Radak says that they delivered only themselves by their righteousness.
I have problems with these explanations because they miss a crucial point: Ezekiel's audience assumes that these three figures would deliver them if they were alive and in the land. That is why God goes out of his way to stress the opposite. The audience already knows that the three men would deliver themselves by their righteousness. What Ezekiel wants to refute is the idea that they could deliver others as well.
Are there other explanations for referring to these three men? One possibility is that the three figures were intercessors, explaining why Ezekiel stresses that they could not deliver others. Noah did not intercede for the flood generation, but he did save his children, including the depraved Ham. Job prayed for his friends in Job 42:7-9. Daniel is a hard one to fit into this scheme. The biblical Daniel prayed for his people in Daniel 9, but that was in the time of Darius, long after Ezekiel wrote. Daniel probably did not have a reputation as an intercessor during Ezekiel's time.
If Daniel in Ezekiel 14 is actually the ancient Near Eastern king Danel (as many scholars argue), then the scheme may work, depending on how the Danel story ended. Unfortunately, the ending is lost. In the Aqhat epic, Danel is a righteous king who defends the fatherless and the widow. The chief god, El, grants him a son at his request, and the son is later killed, resulting in a famine. Both my HarperCollins Study Bible and my Jewish Study Bible assume that Danel succeeds in reviving his dead son, presumably through his influence on El. That would make Danel a successful intercessor. Plus, the Aqhat epic and Ezekiel 14 both mention famine, so Ezekiel may have had the story in mind. But would Ezekiel appeal to a legend that had pagan gods?
Another possibility is that Ezekiel's audience held that the three men would deliver the entire land through their presence, the same way that God would have delivered Sodom if he found ten righteous people there (Genesis 18). Perhaps, but why pick these men for that point? Noah's presence on the earth did not move God to save every person. So why would Ezekiel's audience expect God to save all of Judah for Noah's sake?
Here is another anomaly: Assuming that Daniel is Danel, all three of these men are Gentiles. Ezekiel could have appealed to Abraham or Moses, but he did not. Is this significant? Dr. Klein tries to see some meaning in this detail, but I do not understand his point. Klein says that God wants to show that individual retribution for sin and righteousness is a universal law, but it does not apply to Jerusalem, since even wicked people survived (at least I think that is his argument). The problem is that Ezekiel 18 defends individual retribution with respect to Judah. I will not throw the baby out with the bathwater, though. Maybe Ezekiel 14 does foreshadow Ezekiel 18 by showing that everyone in the world is rewarding and punished for his own personal behavior. Perhaps the reference to righteous Gentiles is also meant to shame the wicked Judeans, who prided themselves as God's chosen people.
Any thoughts?
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Was the Ger a Brother?
I was reading Deuteronomy 23 for my weekly quiet time last night, and I cross-referenced Leviticus 25, since both discuss debts. Here are my issues:
Different translations disagree on Leviticus 25:35. The King James Version has the following:
"And if thy brother be waxen poor, and fallen in decay with thee; then thou shalt relieve him: yea, though he be a stranger, or a sojourner; that he may live with thee." The italicized words are not translated from the Hebrew MT. They are added by the translators.
Most other translations have the same meaning as the New International Version (NIV):
"'If one of your countrymen becomes poor and is unable to support himself among you, help him as you would an alien or a temporary resident, so he can continue to live among you."
The KJV treats the stranger, or ger, as a brother to the Israelites. For the KJV, a Gentile who makes his home in Israel is to be treated as a fellow Israelite. The NIV, by contrast, interprets Leviticus 25:35 to mean that Israelites are to treat an indebted fellow Israelite as a ger. What that probably means is that the indebted Israelite (like a ger) can live on Israelite land, but he does not own it. Since he cannot plant his own crops, he must rely on the compassion of other Israelites and glean the corners of their fields. In the KJV, a Gentile ger is to be treated as an Israelite brother. In the NIV, the indebted Israelite brother is to be treated as a ger.
Which is right? The Hebrew is not overly helpful, explaining the ambiguity. Here is my rough literal translation:
"And when your brother will be poor and his hand will slip within you, you will strengthen him--ger and dweller--and he will live with you."
You can see why translators add words!
As far as context goes, I agree more with the NIV. Leviticus 25:47 distinguishes the ger and the dweller from an Israelite brother. That passage gives Israelites the right to redeem a brother who is enslaved by a ger or dweller. There seems to be an attempt to keep an Israelite under family supervision rather than letting him fall into outsiders' control. That would mean that the outsiders are technically not family.
For Leviticus 25:35, the Septuagint has the same message as the NIV, only it translates ger as proselutos, or proselyte. The rabbis also equated a ger with a convert (or so I have heard). They probably believed that foreigners who dwelt in Israel did so because they converted to Israel's God and laws. Because gerim were not originally part of an Israelite tribe that inherited land, however, they were landless. At Harvard, I remember Professor Jon Levenson reading a rabbinic passage that called converts the children of Abraham and Sarah. I wonder how rabbis interpreted Leviticus 25:35. Would they consider a ger a brother, but also a second class citizen?
The gerim may not have been deemed as equal to Israelites in rabbinic thought, at least not entirely. For example, I was reading Deuteronomy 23:3-6, which excludes Ammonites and Moabites from the assembly of the LORD. According to an article on the orthodox Jewish http://www.torah.org/, a male Ammonite or a Moabite can become a ger (proselyte), but he still cannot marry an Israelite woman. He can only marry another ger. Unfortunately, the article did not cite its Jewish sources, but it defines its understanding of normative Jewish tradition. In this understanding, an Ammonite or Moabite does not lose his previous stigma when he becomes an Israelite.
Why does the KJV translate the verse as it does? Maybe it wants to convey that God's intention was always for Jews and Gentiles to be brothers in the Lord. In the same way that Jesus saw God's inclusion of the Gentiles as foreshadowed in the Old Testament (Luke 4:24-27), the KJV may want to demonstrate continuity between the OT and themes in the NT. The NIV may be more sensitive to the context of the verse, but its translation is not antithetical to Christianity. In Ephesians 2:12, Paul says that Gentiles were once strangers from the commonwealth of Israel. In a certain Christian view, there is discontinuity between the OT and the NT. For adherents of this view, Gentiles were not totally equal with Israelites in OT times, but the wall of partition was torn down through Christ.
Any thoughts?
Different translations disagree on Leviticus 25:35. The King James Version has the following:
"And if thy brother be waxen poor, and fallen in decay with thee; then thou shalt relieve him: yea, though he be a stranger, or a sojourner; that he may live with thee." The italicized words are not translated from the Hebrew MT. They are added by the translators.
Most other translations have the same meaning as the New International Version (NIV):
"'If one of your countrymen becomes poor and is unable to support himself among you, help him as you would an alien or a temporary resident, so he can continue to live among you."
The KJV treats the stranger, or ger, as a brother to the Israelites. For the KJV, a Gentile who makes his home in Israel is to be treated as a fellow Israelite. The NIV, by contrast, interprets Leviticus 25:35 to mean that Israelites are to treat an indebted fellow Israelite as a ger. What that probably means is that the indebted Israelite (like a ger) can live on Israelite land, but he does not own it. Since he cannot plant his own crops, he must rely on the compassion of other Israelites and glean the corners of their fields. In the KJV, a Gentile ger is to be treated as an Israelite brother. In the NIV, the indebted Israelite brother is to be treated as a ger.
Which is right? The Hebrew is not overly helpful, explaining the ambiguity. Here is my rough literal translation:
"And when your brother will be poor and his hand will slip within you, you will strengthen him--ger and dweller--and he will live with you."
You can see why translators add words!
As far as context goes, I agree more with the NIV. Leviticus 25:47 distinguishes the ger and the dweller from an Israelite brother. That passage gives Israelites the right to redeem a brother who is enslaved by a ger or dweller. There seems to be an attempt to keep an Israelite under family supervision rather than letting him fall into outsiders' control. That would mean that the outsiders are technically not family.
For Leviticus 25:35, the Septuagint has the same message as the NIV, only it translates ger as proselutos, or proselyte. The rabbis also equated a ger with a convert (or so I have heard). They probably believed that foreigners who dwelt in Israel did so because they converted to Israel's God and laws. Because gerim were not originally part of an Israelite tribe that inherited land, however, they were landless. At Harvard, I remember Professor Jon Levenson reading a rabbinic passage that called converts the children of Abraham and Sarah. I wonder how rabbis interpreted Leviticus 25:35. Would they consider a ger a brother, but also a second class citizen?
The gerim may not have been deemed as equal to Israelites in rabbinic thought, at least not entirely. For example, I was reading Deuteronomy 23:3-6, which excludes Ammonites and Moabites from the assembly of the LORD. According to an article on the orthodox Jewish http://www.torah.org/, a male Ammonite or a Moabite can become a ger (proselyte), but he still cannot marry an Israelite woman. He can only marry another ger. Unfortunately, the article did not cite its Jewish sources, but it defines its understanding of normative Jewish tradition. In this understanding, an Ammonite or Moabite does not lose his previous stigma when he becomes an Israelite.
Why does the KJV translate the verse as it does? Maybe it wants to convey that God's intention was always for Jews and Gentiles to be brothers in the Lord. In the same way that Jesus saw God's inclusion of the Gentiles as foreshadowed in the Old Testament (Luke 4:24-27), the KJV may want to demonstrate continuity between the OT and themes in the NT. The NIV may be more sensitive to the context of the verse, but its translation is not antithetical to Christianity. In Ephesians 2:12, Paul says that Gentiles were once strangers from the commonwealth of Israel. In a certain Christian view, there is discontinuity between the OT and the NT. For adherents of this view, Gentiles were not totally equal with Israelites in OT times, but the wall of partition was torn down through Christ.
Any thoughts?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wide Awake
Wide Awake is a 1998 movie written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan, who gave us the Sixth Sense, Signs, Unbreakable, The Village, and Lady in the Water. It is not as famous as his other movies, and it also does not have their mysterious character. Still, it is a sweet and thoughtful film about a young boy's quest for God at a Catholic school.
As far as actors go, there are familiar faces. While I am not a fan of Rosie O' Donnell's leftist politics, she does a good job portraying the compassionate nun with a love for baseball. Dan Lauria of the Wonder Years plays a priest, who is rather different from Jack Arnold. I was expecting him to say "hmmmmm?" in a gruff manner and he did not do so. A young Julia Stiles plays the little boy's teenage sister, and Robert Loggia plays his grandfather.
I cannot do justice to this movie in one setting, and I will probably get more out of it the more I see it. Basically, a boy's grandfather is dying of cancer, and the boy is inspired to search for God. Here are some of my favorite scenes:
At the beginning, Rosie is teaching a class, and the boy asks her about the Catholic church's teaching on baptism. He asks if people need to be baptized to be saved, and she says yes. He then mentions his relatives who are not baptized and asks if they are going to hell. Suddenly, the entire class mentions unbaptized relatives and neighbors, including some of different religions. Rosie responds, "No one is going to hell!" This scene reminds me that a lot of people do not always follow the ramifications of their beliefs, especially one as uncomfortable as hell. There are evangelicals who do follow the ramifications and evangelize, but many go through days and weeks and do not think about this belief. Whether that is good or bad, I do not know, but how are Christians supposed to respond to the doctrine that most people around them are headed for post-mortem punishment?
Another part of the movie was where Dan Lauria (the priest) was talking with the boy about faith. The boy asked the priest for a straight answer, not the sort of answer that he would give a kid. Dan Lauria agreed, and the boy asked him how he goes through life without knowing for sure that God is real. Lauria says that this is true with every journey--there is some doubt. The boy asks the priest to tell him once he finds something, and Lauria responds, "You'll be the first to know." I think that the answer occurs a little later in the movie, when Lauria is telling the congregation to sing together and loudly so that God can hear. He then winks at the boy, who afterwards sings with excitement. I think that this is supposed to be the priest's answer to the boy's question, but how it was an answer is something that deserves more thought.
Another interesting scene was when the boy was walking with his grandfather, a devout Catholic. The grandfather assures the boy that God will take care of him after he dies, and the boy asks him how he can be sure that there is a God. The grandfather asks where the snow came from, and the boy answers that snow is frozen vapor. The grandfather inquires, "Where'd you learn that?" In the next scene, the boy looks outside his window and admires the falling snowflakes. These scenes can inspire discussions on science, mystery, and beauty.
In another scene, the boy is talking with his friend. His friend asks if God has shown himself to him, and the boy responds "no" (though, at the end of the movie, he will see that one of the other children at the school is actually an angel). The friend says that there are two possibilities: either there is no God, or God does exist and does not care that someone is looking for him. That question is in the back of many seekers' minds: Is there a God, and does he care?
Near the end of the movie, the boy reads an essay to his class. His essay is about his changed perspective. At the beginning of the school year, he says, he thought that bullies were just bullies, that weirdos were just weird, and that the people he loved would stay with him forever. Now, he is wide awake. What he says is true--often I do not ask why people around me are the way that they are. I may have to see the movie again to identify how he learned the first two lessons.
I admire M. Night Shyamalan for making movies about faith. He definitely makes a much-needed contribution to the world of movies and entertainment.
As far as actors go, there are familiar faces. While I am not a fan of Rosie O' Donnell's leftist politics, she does a good job portraying the compassionate nun with a love for baseball. Dan Lauria of the Wonder Years plays a priest, who is rather different from Jack Arnold. I was expecting him to say "hmmmmm?" in a gruff manner and he did not do so. A young Julia Stiles plays the little boy's teenage sister, and Robert Loggia plays his grandfather.
I cannot do justice to this movie in one setting, and I will probably get more out of it the more I see it. Basically, a boy's grandfather is dying of cancer, and the boy is inspired to search for God. Here are some of my favorite scenes:
At the beginning, Rosie is teaching a class, and the boy asks her about the Catholic church's teaching on baptism. He asks if people need to be baptized to be saved, and she says yes. He then mentions his relatives who are not baptized and asks if they are going to hell. Suddenly, the entire class mentions unbaptized relatives and neighbors, including some of different religions. Rosie responds, "No one is going to hell!" This scene reminds me that a lot of people do not always follow the ramifications of their beliefs, especially one as uncomfortable as hell. There are evangelicals who do follow the ramifications and evangelize, but many go through days and weeks and do not think about this belief. Whether that is good or bad, I do not know, but how are Christians supposed to respond to the doctrine that most people around them are headed for post-mortem punishment?
Another part of the movie was where Dan Lauria (the priest) was talking with the boy about faith. The boy asked the priest for a straight answer, not the sort of answer that he would give a kid. Dan Lauria agreed, and the boy asked him how he goes through life without knowing for sure that God is real. Lauria says that this is true with every journey--there is some doubt. The boy asks the priest to tell him once he finds something, and Lauria responds, "You'll be the first to know." I think that the answer occurs a little later in the movie, when Lauria is telling the congregation to sing together and loudly so that God can hear. He then winks at the boy, who afterwards sings with excitement. I think that this is supposed to be the priest's answer to the boy's question, but how it was an answer is something that deserves more thought.
Another interesting scene was when the boy was walking with his grandfather, a devout Catholic. The grandfather assures the boy that God will take care of him after he dies, and the boy asks him how he can be sure that there is a God. The grandfather asks where the snow came from, and the boy answers that snow is frozen vapor. The grandfather inquires, "Where'd you learn that?" In the next scene, the boy looks outside his window and admires the falling snowflakes. These scenes can inspire discussions on science, mystery, and beauty.
In another scene, the boy is talking with his friend. His friend asks if God has shown himself to him, and the boy responds "no" (though, at the end of the movie, he will see that one of the other children at the school is actually an angel). The friend says that there are two possibilities: either there is no God, or God does exist and does not care that someone is looking for him. That question is in the back of many seekers' minds: Is there a God, and does he care?
Near the end of the movie, the boy reads an essay to his class. His essay is about his changed perspective. At the beginning of the school year, he says, he thought that bullies were just bullies, that weirdos were just weird, and that the people he loved would stay with him forever. Now, he is wide awake. What he says is true--often I do not ask why people around me are the way that they are. I may have to see the movie again to identify how he learned the first two lessons.
I admire M. Night Shyamalan for making movies about faith. He definitely makes a much-needed contribution to the world of movies and entertainment.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Meditating on the Law
In Psalm 1:2, the Psalmist says that the righteous delight in God's law and meditate on it day and night. What does that mean?
When I was growing up in an offshoot of the Worldwide Church of God, I heard two explanations. Garner Ted Armstrong said that meditation on the law consisted of the following: Consider the commandment "Thou shalt not kill" (or steal, or commit adultery). Now, imagine what the world would be like if everyone observed that commandment. It would be paradise! Whether he realized it or not, Garner Ted was reversing the Kantian imperative, which asks people to think about what life would be like if everyone did a particular wrong deed (or so Kant has been explained to me). Garner Ted's approach to meditation on the law certainly helps me to see the law's value.
Ronald Dart, another ex-WCG minister, had another approach. He said that we should meditate on the law (meaning the Pentateuch) to derive principles that can guide our lives. For example, the laws on oxen and fences on roofs do not literally apply to most people in the United States, but they can still discern principles in the law about respect for others' safety. The apostle Paul himself saw deeper meaning and application in the law, for, in I Corinthians 9:9, he applies the law about consideration of an ox to the principle of supporting ministers. Paul sought the basic principle in the law and encouraged people to follow it.
When I was taking a Psalms class at Jewish Theological Seminary, I saw that the word translated as "meditate" is from the root h-g-h, which means "roar," "growl," "groan," "utter," "speak," "meditate," "devise," "muse," and "imagine" (according to Strong's, but BDB has many of the same definitions). Meditation of the law may have been recitation and repetition of it. Interestingly, that is not too different from what many evangelicals do when they try to memorize Scripture. After all, the Psalmist says in Psalm 119:11 that he hid God's word in his heart that he might not sin against him.
How do you meditate on God's law?
When I was growing up in an offshoot of the Worldwide Church of God, I heard two explanations. Garner Ted Armstrong said that meditation on the law consisted of the following: Consider the commandment "Thou shalt not kill" (or steal, or commit adultery). Now, imagine what the world would be like if everyone observed that commandment. It would be paradise! Whether he realized it or not, Garner Ted was reversing the Kantian imperative, which asks people to think about what life would be like if everyone did a particular wrong deed (or so Kant has been explained to me). Garner Ted's approach to meditation on the law certainly helps me to see the law's value.
Ronald Dart, another ex-WCG minister, had another approach. He said that we should meditate on the law (meaning the Pentateuch) to derive principles that can guide our lives. For example, the laws on oxen and fences on roofs do not literally apply to most people in the United States, but they can still discern principles in the law about respect for others' safety. The apostle Paul himself saw deeper meaning and application in the law, for, in I Corinthians 9:9, he applies the law about consideration of an ox to the principle of supporting ministers. Paul sought the basic principle in the law and encouraged people to follow it.
When I was taking a Psalms class at Jewish Theological Seminary, I saw that the word translated as "meditate" is from the root h-g-h, which means "roar," "growl," "groan," "utter," "speak," "meditate," "devise," "muse," and "imagine" (according to Strong's, but BDB has many of the same definitions). Meditation of the law may have been recitation and repetition of it. Interestingly, that is not too different from what many evangelicals do when they try to memorize Scripture. After all, the Psalmist says in Psalm 119:11 that he hid God's word in his heart that he might not sin against him.
How do you meditate on God's law?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Protected by the Word, Part 3: Meaning of the Law
In my first two "Protected by the Word" posts, I discussed how people protected themselves through their obedience to God's word. For the catastrophes in 587 B.C.E. and 70 C.E., God gave his people commands that saved their lives.
I both cases, God's word was practical. I like that. Seeing a practical goal or objective in God's commands certainly strengthens my love for them. God really does aim for our good. As one radio preacher told me when I called into his program, "The Bible is for you."
Years ago, I read N.T. Wright's Jesus and the Victory of God, and I was impressed when he tied Jesus' Sermon on the Mount to the political situation of first century Judea. According to Wright, Jesus was commanding his contemporaries not to resist their Roman enemies but to turn the other cheek. We know from history what happened to Jerusalem when many Jews tried to retaliate against the Romans. For Wright, Jesus' commands had a relevant, practical objective.
Practically speaking, many of us can see benefits from keeping God's law (the commands throughout the Bible). One book that has been popular over the years is S.I. McMillen's None of These Diseases, which contends that obedience to God's law is actually healthy. This is true with regard to avoiding sexually-transmitted diseases or ulcers that can result from anxiety or bitterness.
Many might object to such an anthropocentric understanding of the law, and they would have a point. God's law is God's standard. God's attitude to the law is not, "Well, you can keep it if you want to be healthy and live, but I do not require obedience." God's law is not really in the same category as avoiding fatty foods or smoking. God's law is holy, and so God punishes sin.
Moreover, the law is in some sense a transcript of God's character. Jesus told his contemporaries to turn the other cheek, and that would have helped Judeans in their relationship with the Romans, but his command went far beyond that situation. Not surprisingly, this sort of command is repeated in other places in the New Testament, such as Romans 12:19-21 and II Peter 2:18ff. One reason that we forgive and love our enemies is that God in Christ has forgiven us, and God (for his own reasons) wants to move us beyond a carnal approach to life so that we can become more like Jesus.
The issue of whether or not the commandments have practical or rational meaning has been debated within Judaism. Some, such as Maimonides (twelfth-thirteenth century C.E.), sought rational reasons for as many of the commandments as possible. Others have argued that some of the commands have no apparent meaning. Examples of such laws (according to those who argue this) would include the laws about unclean meats and not mixing different fabrics. For this group, pigs are not unhealthy, and there is nothing inherently harmful about wearing a mixed garment, so the laws' meaning is a mystery. Ironically, even people who do not seek a reason for such commands still assert that they have a practical value: to encourage us to obey God our master, whether or not we see any apparent meaning in his laws. In short, God, not our rational understanding, is to be our boss.
The issue of meaning came up in my class on intertextuality yesterday, only from a different angle. The comment was made that many of the customs that made their way into the Hebrew Bible may not have had a deep meaning. They could have been customs that people just did. Even in that context, though, there seemed to be a desire to attach to them a purpose, namely, to bring people together.
How do you see God's commands? Is your attitude "God said it, I do it, and that settles it for me"? Or do you seek practical or rational reasons that God gave them?
I both cases, God's word was practical. I like that. Seeing a practical goal or objective in God's commands certainly strengthens my love for them. God really does aim for our good. As one radio preacher told me when I called into his program, "The Bible is for you."
Years ago, I read N.T. Wright's Jesus and the Victory of God, and I was impressed when he tied Jesus' Sermon on the Mount to the political situation of first century Judea. According to Wright, Jesus was commanding his contemporaries not to resist their Roman enemies but to turn the other cheek. We know from history what happened to Jerusalem when many Jews tried to retaliate against the Romans. For Wright, Jesus' commands had a relevant, practical objective.
Practically speaking, many of us can see benefits from keeping God's law (the commands throughout the Bible). One book that has been popular over the years is S.I. McMillen's None of These Diseases, which contends that obedience to God's law is actually healthy. This is true with regard to avoiding sexually-transmitted diseases or ulcers that can result from anxiety or bitterness.
Many might object to such an anthropocentric understanding of the law, and they would have a point. God's law is God's standard. God's attitude to the law is not, "Well, you can keep it if you want to be healthy and live, but I do not require obedience." God's law is not really in the same category as avoiding fatty foods or smoking. God's law is holy, and so God punishes sin.
Moreover, the law is in some sense a transcript of God's character. Jesus told his contemporaries to turn the other cheek, and that would have helped Judeans in their relationship with the Romans, but his command went far beyond that situation. Not surprisingly, this sort of command is repeated in other places in the New Testament, such as Romans 12:19-21 and II Peter 2:18ff. One reason that we forgive and love our enemies is that God in Christ has forgiven us, and God (for his own reasons) wants to move us beyond a carnal approach to life so that we can become more like Jesus.
The issue of whether or not the commandments have practical or rational meaning has been debated within Judaism. Some, such as Maimonides (twelfth-thirteenth century C.E.), sought rational reasons for as many of the commandments as possible. Others have argued that some of the commands have no apparent meaning. Examples of such laws (according to those who argue this) would include the laws about unclean meats and not mixing different fabrics. For this group, pigs are not unhealthy, and there is nothing inherently harmful about wearing a mixed garment, so the laws' meaning is a mystery. Ironically, even people who do not seek a reason for such commands still assert that they have a practical value: to encourage us to obey God our master, whether or not we see any apparent meaning in his laws. In short, God, not our rational understanding, is to be our boss.
The issue of meaning came up in my class on intertextuality yesterday, only from a different angle. The comment was made that many of the customs that made their way into the Hebrew Bible may not have had a deep meaning. They could have been customs that people just did. Even in that context, though, there seemed to be a desire to attach to them a purpose, namely, to bring people together.
How do you see God's commands? Is your attitude "God said it, I do it, and that settles it for me"? Or do you seek practical or rational reasons that God gave them?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
First Day of School
Today was my first day of school, for the 2007-2008 school year, that is. I am only taking two classes, since I will be spending a lot of time preparing for my comprehensive exams. My classes look excellent. One is on intertextuality, and we will be reading Michael Fishbane's Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. The topic concerns how biblical authors interpreted and used earlier writings that made their way into the Hebrew Bible.
I am also taking a class on 4 Maccabees. That class was interesting because of two issues that were discussed today: hell and the different biblical canons. I have been thinking about hell for a while because I have interacted with a Christian universalist, who asserts that hell in the Bible is not eternal. She argues that the Greek word "aionios" does not mean forever, but my finding is that the words olam (in Hebrew), aion, and aionios can mean forever, but not in every case. Anyway, my class was discussing the immortality of the soul and the resurrection in Hellenistic Judaism. Hellenistic Judaism sometimes has the concept of eternal torment in hell, but there is also the idea that an unvirtuous soul will suffer for a while and then be extinguished. The implication of the latter view is that only the virtuous soul lives forever.
Regarding the different Christian canons, this issue interests me because of my discussions with Roman Catholics. When I listen to Catholics, I get the impression that they see the deuterocanonical books as equal in inspiration to the books that Jews and Protestants accept. The impression I got from class today, however (and my impression may be wrong), was that the term deuterocanonical means that the books under this category were deemed second in importance by the Catholic church. This means that they could be read in church, but they are not authoritative for doctrine. This is an important issue, since Protestants accuse Catholics of basing the doctrine of purgatory on a text in Maccabees (one of them).
Any thoughts? Insights? Info?
I am also taking a class on 4 Maccabees. That class was interesting because of two issues that were discussed today: hell and the different biblical canons. I have been thinking about hell for a while because I have interacted with a Christian universalist, who asserts that hell in the Bible is not eternal. She argues that the Greek word "aionios" does not mean forever, but my finding is that the words olam (in Hebrew), aion, and aionios can mean forever, but not in every case. Anyway, my class was discussing the immortality of the soul and the resurrection in Hellenistic Judaism. Hellenistic Judaism sometimes has the concept of eternal torment in hell, but there is also the idea that an unvirtuous soul will suffer for a while and then be extinguished. The implication of the latter view is that only the virtuous soul lives forever.
Regarding the different Christian canons, this issue interests me because of my discussions with Roman Catholics. When I listen to Catholics, I get the impression that they see the deuterocanonical books as equal in inspiration to the books that Jews and Protestants accept. The impression I got from class today, however (and my impression may be wrong), was that the term deuterocanonical means that the books under this category were deemed second in importance by the Catholic church. This means that they could be read in church, but they are not authoritative for doctrine. This is an important issue, since Protestants accuse Catholics of basing the doctrine of purgatory on a text in Maccabees (one of them).
Any thoughts? Insights? Info?
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