Desperate Housewives, Brothers and Sisters, King Movies

Was anyone else excited to see Daphne from Frasier on Desperate Housewives tonight—as Tom and Lynette’s therapist? Okay, she didn’t play Daphne, but it’s ironic that she’s a therapist, the same job as her husband on Frasier.

I thought it was awesome how all the ladies forgave Katherine. Of course, she was repentant, since she felt she didn’t deserve forgiveness. But it’s still slightly surprising.

On Brothers and Sisters, Sarah is finally dating a normal guy. And he’s a Republican, to boot! It was strange, though, how the liberals in the family were backing him up on the need for schools to search students’ back-packs, whereas Kitty (the conservative) was backing up Sarah on civil liberties. I hope Sarah doesn’t call that French guy.

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day, and I don’t know what to write for a post. But I’ll be taping a bunch of movies about him: a documentary by Tom Brokaw, the three-part miniseries starring Paul Winfield, and Boycott, which has Jeffrey Wright (Syriana, Lady in the Water, W). I won’t be watching all of them tomorrow. I may see the Brokaw documentary, while saving the other two for Black History Month.

Exodus 14-15 and Piya, Why Ecclesiastes and Job?, Original Sin

1. I’m continuing to read Steven Weitzman’s Song and Story in Biblical Narrative. Weitzman refers to the scholarly argument that the “Song of the Sea” in Exodus 15 “contains motifs used in Egyptian royal propaganda to represent the king’s military might” (30). For example, vv 6, 16 discuss the power of God’s arm in battle, “an image used routinely in Egyptian battle accounts, both verbal and iconic, to represent the king’s might in combat.” According to some scholars, Exodus 15 alludes to Egyptian themes to taunt the Egyptians: “You think your king’s arm is so tough! Well, our God’s arm just whipped your behind!”

Weitzman compares Exodus 14-15 with the eighth century B.C.E. Piya Stele, from Egypt (see The Victory Stela of King Piankhy (Piye) 747-716 BC). I can’t say that I’m following his argument completely, but I’ll give it a stab. In the Piya Stele, Piya’s soldiers go out to fight the enemies, then Piya takes action himself. There are also songs celebrating Piya’s victory.

Similarly, in Exodus 14-15, we see something similar. In Exodus 14, God acts indirectly—through Moses, or a pillar of cloud and fire (which Weitzman says occur also in ancient Near Eastern and Greek battle stories). In Exodus 15, however, God is portrayed as the one who directly whips Pharaoh, then there are songs celebrating God’s victory and right to rule.

According to Weitzman, the Piya Stela and Exodus 14-15 are trying to accomplish a similar task. The Piya Stela is seeking to justify Piya’s right to rule on the basis of his strength, even though he didn’t personally participate in the battle. And God is somewhat absent in Exodus 14, in the sense that God is unseen, and you can only behold the effects of what he does; plus, Exodus 14 is leery about anthropomorphizing the deity. Consequently, Exodus 15 serves to say that “God defeated our enemies,” thereby justifying God’s right to rule.

On page 30, I think I see what may be Weitzman’s agenda: he takes on the scholarly consensus that the poems were composed before the stories, by different authors. He may be aiming for a more synchronic approach, one that treats the poetry as intertwined with the story, as occurs in the Piya Stele (perhaps).

2. I read the Anchor Bible Dictionary article on the Book of Ecclesiastes, written by James Crenshaw. He appears to date the book to the third century B.C.E. For him, something challenged the wisdom consensus in Israel, the view that God created the world according to a moral order, in which the righteous prosper and the wicked experience ruin. That’s why we have books that argue against this claim, such as Job and Ecclesiastes. And it didn’t just occur in Israel, Crenshaw points out, for similar literature appeared elsewhere in the ancient Near East, such as the suicidal “Dialogue between the Master and his Slave.”

On the one hand, Crenshaw says that an injustice could have precipitated the revolt against traditional wisdom ideology. On the other hand, Crenshaw states that Ecclesiastes may have gotten its ideas from Hellenistic concepts, such as absurdity and chance.

I wonder what stimulated people to question the notion that God consistently punished the wicked and rewarded the righteous. Ecclesiastes 4:1 mentions oppression by people in power. Could this be a reference to the Ptolemies? Maybe there were Israelites at the time who felt that they were obeying God as best as they could and didn’t deserve foreign oppression. Sure, God punished them justly for their idolatry with the Babylonians and the Persians, but the exile was now over, and they had repented. Why was a foreign power still oppressing them?

And this taste of injustice may have opened their eyes to life’s injustice in general: Why do people suffer, or work hard for so little? That’s how it happened with Job: he moved from criticizing God for his own suffering, onto lamenting the fact that others suffer unjustly (see my post, Job and Tobit). And Hellenistic beliefs about chance and absurdity may have given them the vocabulary or concepts to express their confusion.

3. At Latin mass this morning, we had political priest. He encouraged us to help the people of Haiti, yet he attributed the recent earthquake to original sin. Because Adam and Eve sinned, he said, we have diseases and earthquakes. I’m not sure if he was saying God is punishing people, for he portrayed God as ready to help; for the priest, the fault for natural evil rests with human beings, not God. Does that mean that Adam and Eve’s rebellion against God led naturally to the disorder in God’s creation, without God’s direct intervention?

Personally, I don’t understand how original sin changed the natural order. Did God create fault lines after Adam and Eve ate the fruit?

Theodicy, Prayer, Haiti

Here are three items from the blogosphere that piqued my interest:

1. James McGrath has a post, There Is No Slippery Slope, which critiques the fundamentalist argument that rejecting biblical inerrancy puts one on the path to liberalism and unbelief. According to McGrath, there’s no “slippery slope” because there’s no secure place from which we can slide. The Bible is diverse on such questions as reward and punishment and whether people get what they deserve: the Deuteronomist, Proverbs, and some Psalms say “yes,” whereas the Book of Job and Ecclesiastes say “no.”

I asked James: James, I have a question about this statement you make:

“The rest of us can go skiing and hiking and explore the mountain, and find places all over its slopes that one can remain if one chooses.”

I’m assuming that mountain means the Bible, with all its diversity. Are you saying that we can choose which viewpoint in the Bible we go with? For example—right now, reward and punishment in this life may make sense to me, but, once tragedy strikes, I’d be drawn to the nihilism in Job. But which corresponds to real life? Which represents how God does things?

McGrath response was as follows:

James, presumably if answering such questions with certainty were possible, we might not have the diversity of views in Scripture that we do!

But if nothing else, presumably the diversity of Scripture on topics like suffering and divine wrath suggest that people who have had different experiences may view the same topic in different ways. And perhaps that’s OK…

That’s kind of a no-brainer, and it turns my question on its head. I asked which view accords with real life. McGrath responds that both views come from people’s experiences.

And he’s right on this, Scripturally-speaking. The author of Psalm 37 says in his old age that he never saw a righteous person’s seed beg for bread (v 25). In Job 21, however, Job apparently knows of wicked people who die in prosperity, undermining the view that God consistently rewards and punishes people in this life. Both are basing their theological view on what they’ve seen and heard.

Both are commenting from their life experiences. Whom should I believe? Maybe both, in a sense. Joel Osteen tells stories of people who apply principles of faith and giving and find healing and prosperity in their lives. Perhaps those are true stories. But there are plenty of people who are disappointed with God because they believe God failed them in some way.

Even in the New Testament, there’s some tension. Jesus says we shouldn’t worry because God will provide for us (Matthew 6:25-34). Yet, he tells a story of a righteous man who dies poor and destitute, Lazarus (Luke 16:19ff.), so he apparently acknowledges that this can happen in real life.

Which should I bank on? It’s hard to trust either viewpoint, if both aren’t absolute. And, being an all-or-nothing type of guy, I tend to lean towards Jobean nihilism because there are chinks in the “reward and punishment” scenario.

I guess all I can do is hope and pray: carry my concerns to God, and see what happens. I feel I have to trust in God’s love, whatever takes place.

2. Under John W. Loftus’ post, Praise God for the Disaster in Haiti! Isn’t God Good? Thank You Jesus!, Stephanie (not the Steph of the biblio-blogosphere) states:

I got in an argument with a woman on Huffington Post who posted that everyone needed to pray for the people of Haiti. I told her that was a useless endeavor because prayers don’t work. She said they did and Jesus would answer the Haitian’s prayers by helping and comforting them through this hard time. I said, ok, let’s put this to the test. If every person who is in Haiti to help them left right now and all the food and water that has been shipped in was flown back to the states. And instead, everyone just prayed for them, what do you think would happen? Would food and water magically appear? Would the trapped people be magically freed? Would all the dead come back to life? Of course, she didn’t respond back. She knows damned well that those people would die from starvation and every person trapped alive would eventually die from their injuries. Praying is equal to masturbating. Christians do it to make themselves feel better. It’s a very selfish thing to do when so many are dying.

I have mixed reactions to this quote. I don’t think prayer is a “selfish thing to do when so many are dying.” People are praying because they care about the suffering in Haiti, and they feel powerless to change it, so they appeal to a being who’s more powerful than they are. I asked Stephanie what she’s doing while so many are dying. Criticizing Christians doesn’t help the people in Haiti, either.

I pray for people each day on my Christian dating site: people with cancer, or economic problems, or in abusive relationships. If I were not a Christian (or at least a theist), I would not do that. I’d think that bad things happen, and there’s not much that I can do about it, so why worry? But prayer is a way for me to care for somebody else, and to act in a way that the person suffering deems effective. There’s nothing selfish about it.

Stephanie’s comment reminded me of an interaction under Polycarp’s post, Engaging Atheism: Blaming God for Humanity’s Ignorance. Polycarp was defending God, and an atheist named Devin replied that, of course, Polycarp believes in a good God! He lives in the prosperous West. But where is God in the areas in which God doesn’t appear to provide? Devin then said that he used to be angry at God because God didn’t intervene to relieve people’s suffering; now, however, his mind is at ease because he doesn’t think God exists. My response was: But those problems are still there, Devin, whether there’s a God or not. How, then, can you be at ease? And do you have any hope that they’ll be solved? And that’s my issue with atheism: Even if I can’t mount an effective theodicy, my belief in God at least gives me hope that the problem of evil will be solved. I’m not just going to say “bad things happen—that’s life!” and move on! (Not that I should judge Stephanie or Devin, for they may contribute to charities that attempt to relieve suffering.)

Where Stephanie’s quote resonates with me is that I, too, don’t know how to pray for the people of Haiti. As I said in my post, Haiti, I can pray for individuals more easily than I can for nations. When a woman on my Christian dating site asks for prayer because she wants to be healed of cancer, I can do that, because I can picture a person being healed of cancer: it’s happened before! But I’m not sure what God would do to correct the problems in Haiti.

The same goes with praying for our troops. I’m not sure what people want me to pray. That our troops won’t die? But some of them will die, because that’s what happens in war. In Deuteronomy 20, God promises to protect the Israelites and to give them victory, yet there’s an acknowledgment that some Israelites will die in battle (vv 5-7). And this was a battle in which God was actually on somebody’s side.

Stephanie’s comment also resonated with me because it reminded me of the movie One-Hour Photo, which I discuss in my post, Invite Sy to Church. On it, a yuppie mom and her son send “happy thoughts” to a lonely man named Sy. A Christian reviewer remarked, Imagine this: What if, upon sensing his pain, instead of sending Sy “good thoughts” (which does nothing for Sy and serves only to make the Yorkins’ feel better about themselves) the Yorkins did something that could ultimately save his life…What if they invited him to church? Prayer has a place, but the Bible also says a lot about concrete action. As James 2:15-16 says, if we tell a person in need, “Go in peace, be warm, and be filled,” and we do nothing concretely to help him out, what good is that?

3. Felix has a thought-provoking post, Can’t those who speak for God be a little humble? He links to a book, Lawrence Harrison’s Central Liberal Truth, which has a chapter about why Haiti is poor and the Dominican Republic is not. Harrison says that, for a time in the nineteenth century, Haiti wasn’t that bad off and was actually more prosperous than the Dominican Republic, but certain factors led Haiti to its current poverty. Corrupt leadership is a big one. So is increasing population. France exacting a heavy toll from Haiti in the nineteenth century also could have contributed to its poverty. Haiti also distributed its land rather than continuing to use it to produce sugar, which could’ve been a lucrative export. And there are times when Harrison’s analysis would make Brit Hume proud: he says that Voodoo is holding the Haitian people back because it teaches them to avoid responsibility for their actions, whereas Christianity is big on personal responsibility.

I’m not sure if I like Harrison’s cultural imperialism, but he makes a point that’s been in my mind for a long time. People wonder why God allows certain regions to be poor. Actually, God made them quite rich, which is why Europeans and Americans have tried to take advantage of them! It’s injustice that makes the people in those areas poor. God will one day intervene to set that right. In the meantime, we should find some way to promote justice. I’m not sure what my part in this is, but the issue is on my mind.

I Kings 10: What Is Wisdom?

I just finished my study of I Kings 10 here at home. I suppose I could’ve gone to the library today, since there’s no snow on the ground. But I’m in an introverted, be-by-myself sort of mood.

What can I say about I Kings 10? Well, the Queen of Sheba visits Solomon because of his reputation “to the name of the LORD” (v 1). I’m not sure what that means exactly. I did a search on BibleWorks, and the Hebrew for “to the name of the LORD” often occurs in the context of Solomon building a house for God’s name, the temple. In Joshua 9:9, the Gibeonites come “to the name of the LORD,” which various English translations render as “because of the name of the LORD,” meaning the Gibeonites came because they heard of God’s reputation concerning the Exodus and the Conquest (up to that point). Consequently, there are commentators who assert that I Kings 10:1 means the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon on account of his reputation, which was “because of the name of the LORD,” indicating it was due to the LORD himself—his blessing of Solomon with wisdom and prosperity. The Septuagint doesn’t translate the Hebrew literally (assuming it was even using the MT in this case), for it says that the Queen of Sheba heard the name of Solomon and the name of the LORD: she came because of the reputations of two great figures, Solomon and his God. The Septuagint seems to rewrite the verse so that it makes a little more sense.

The Queen visits Solomon to ask him some hard questions, or riddles. It’s the same word used for Samson’s riddle in Judges 14. To see what rabbinic literature thinks her riddles were, check out the “Jewish Legends” section of the Jewish Encyclopedia article, SHEBA, QUEEN OF.

Why did the Queen of Sheba visit Solomon? The Anchor Bible Dictionary article on the “Queen of Sheba” offered a political/economic reason. As I said in last week’s post, I Kings 9: At Home, Solomon controlled Ezion-geber, which was at the top tip of the Red Sea. And he had also fortified cities along Israel’s trading routes, which connected Egypt with northern areas, such as Syria and Mesopotamia. To accomplish lucrative trade, one had to enter Israel via the Red Sea and go through it to reach the North. And so the Queen of Sheba felt that she’d better make friends with Solomon if she were to get Sheba’s goods traded off! Makes sense. The Bible doesn’t mention that, though!

Jesus refers to the story of the Queen of Sheba in Matthew 12:42 and Luke 11:31. He states that the Queen of Sheba came to hear the wisdom of Solomon, so she’ll stand at the Judgment and condemn the generation of Israelites that rejected Jesus, who is greater than Solomon (though, as James McGrath pointed out as he needled the inerrancy doctrine, God told Solomon in I Kings 3:12 that there would never be anyone as wise as Solomon—see Who is the Wisest? Jesus, Solomon or Pat Robertson? (Biblioblogging and the Haitian Earthquake)). Wisdom. Is that what wisdom is—solving riddles? I mean, that’s what Solomon did for the Queen of Sheba. His ability to solve them was what convinced the Queen that Solomon was wise—that, along with the beautiful temple and Solomon’s multitude of servants. Maybe, in those days, having a high IQ meant being an effective and righteous ruler. The Queen refers to Solomon doing judgment and justice. Intelligence can help a ruler do that! Consider the story in I Kings 3, in which Solomon rules justly in a case involving two prostitutes, who were claiming to be the mother of a child. Solomon treated this as a riddle for him to solve, and the result was that he made a just decision: the baby was restored to its rightful mother.

Yet, one can be smart with riddles or dark sayings, and still be bad. When I did a search on the Hebrew word for “riddle,” which is used in I Kings 10:1, I came across Daniel 8:23: a fierce king who understands “riddles” will rise up and persecute God’s people. So the Antichrist (according to Christians) will be smart, yet unrighteous! My impression of biblical wisdom literature is that it equates wisdom with righteousness, since behaving righteously is a wise path, which brings life and prosperity. Daniel 8:23 appears to have a different understanding!

I thought about America’s Presidents. Jimmy Carter was smart, yet he was a bad President. Reagan may not have been as smart, but he was good. At the same time, in his first term, he had advisors who were politically savy and able to get his agenda passed. Clinton was smart. I guess he was a fairly decent President, but his personal blunders weren’t particularly wise, since they gave his opposition the ammunition to impeach him. Bush II isn’t considered a brain, but he had some brains serving under him (e.g., Cheney, Condi). Still, some of his decisions (e.g., his short-sighted war strategy) were pretty bad. And Obama is smart, but he doesn’t seem all that competent! So maybe there are different kinds of intelligences: book-smart, the ability to get one’s agenda passed, etc.

Where’s righteousness in this? Well, certainly, being unrighteous can have bad consequences, showing that it’s not wise! If we’ve bred resentment among many nations of the world through our greed and insensitivity, that encourages America’s enemies. If we don’t regulate bad business practices, then an economic collapse is no surprise.

What’s my point in all this? I’m not sure. But I’m edified after exploring the definition of wisdom. Sometimes, the journey itself can be a reward, even if I don’t arrive at a definitive answer!

Evolution with Purpose?, Lamentations Contradicts Jeremiah?, Ann Coulter Praises a Democrat, Bruce Cohen on Theodicy

1. Last night, I started Steven Weitzman’s Song and Story in Biblical Narrative. I haven’t quite gotten into the flow of his argument yet, but an incidental point stood out to me.

It concerns evolution. On page 7, Weitzman states: Biology provides a textbook example: the wing of a bat seems similar to the wing of a bird not because bats and birds inherited this trait from a common ancestor but because each has evolved along parallel lines in response to similar environmental conditions.

As I said long ago in my post, Questions on Natural Selection, there’s something I don’t understand about evolution. The way it’s often been presented to me, there are random mutations, and the animals whose mutations gave them the ability to survive live on to pass down their genes.

But there are also times when it’s presented to me as creatures evolving characteristics they need in response to their environment. It’s like, “I need an eye to cope with my environment here, so I’ll evolve an eye.”

But the two concepts strike me as different. In the first one, I don’t necessarily evolve what I need. I’m at the mercy of mutations that I can’t control, and, if they’re favorable to me, then I survive. But there’s no guarantee that anyone will have a favorable mutation. If there are animals with features that enable them to survive in their environment, that’s because they’re the lucky ones: they got good mutations.

In the second, a creature mutates to adapt, as if there’s a purpose in the mutation.

I feel like I’m stumbling in the dark on evolution and no one can help me. Atheists dismiss people as stupid. Regarding creationists, I can’t always be certain if they’re defining evolution to me in a correct manner.

2. I read the Anchor Bible Dictionary article on the Book of Lamentations. It has the following on the authorship of the Book:

Nothing in the Bible expressly attributes our canonical book of Lamentations to Jeremiah the prophet, but the seeds for such an ascription are present in the general tendency to ascribe originally anonymous works to prominent figures, such as Moses, David, Solomon, and in the statement that Jeremiah, a “weeping” prophet (Jer 8:23—Eng 9:1), who lived through the fall of Jerusalem, wrote a “lament” or “laments” (2 Chr 35:25) over Josiah. Perhaps it is from such origins that there grows the ascription found already in the LXX, at the head of the book: “. . . Jeremiah sat weeping and composed this lament over Jerusalem and said. . . .” The LXX order of books associates it with Jeremiah. In various ways the Targum, the Syriac (Peshitta), and Vulgate make the same ascription to Jeremiah, as do the Babylonian Talmud (B. Bat. 15a) and other rabbinic works, which quote the book in the form: “Jeremiah says. . . .”

As noted above, the Hebrew Bible itself does not place Lamentations with the book of Jeremiah, a tradition continued in some uncommon but ancient listings of the books of Scripture. This impressive evidence of the book’s original anonymity is bolstered by critical examination of the content of the book, for while it is not impossible that Jeremiah could have written it, some of its ideas seem implausible or incongruous as coming from him. In the question of reliance on help from foreign powers, contrast Lam 4:17, which refers to the poignant longing of the people (“we”) for aid from Egypt, with Jer 2:18 or 37:5–10, where the prophet denounces alliances and predicts their failure; on the destruction of the temple, compare Lam 1:10, with its reference to God’s forbidding nations to enter the sanctuary, with Jer 7:14, where the prophet in God’s name predicted this dire event; in Lam 4:20 King Zedekiah is “the breath of our nostrils, the anointed of Yahweh,” on whom the common hopes of the people depended, while in Jer 37:17 the prophet clearly predicted his capture by the Babylonians. Could Jeremiah, active as a prophet through this whole tragic time, have lamented, “Her prophets find no vision from Yahweh”? (2:9).

I find most of the arguments against Jeremiah’s authorship to be weak. Lamentations 4:17 presents reliance on foreign nations as a let-down, which is what Jeremiah 2:18 and 37:5-10 essentially argue. Yes, God forbade foreigners to enter the sanctuary (Numbers 18:2-6), as Lamentations 1:10 affirms; and, yes, Jeremiah predicted that foreigners would enter it as part of God’s punishment of Judah. But the two concepts aren’t really contradictory, for Jeremiah can mourn over something that he predicted, as if it’s strange and unusual (i.e., God doesn’t like foreigners entering his sanctuary but allows them to do so, anyway). Moreover, maybe Jeremiah didn’t understand the full impact of what he was predicting until it came true; then, it was a shock to him—something he’d never seen before.

The part about the prophets finding no vision from Yahweh (Lamentations 2:9) is a decent point, though, because Jeremiah offered his people hope and guidance during and after the destruction of Jerusalem. But maybe God stopped speaking to Judah after she rejected Jeremiah—by going to Egypt in spite of his warnings. At that time, she had no guidance.

3. I enjoyed Ann Coulter’s column this week: Harry Reid’s Negro Problem. I can’t say that I found all of it in good taste, but I somewhat liked her following statement:

After the 2000 election, Democrats had a chance to make one of the rare smart Democrats, Donna Brazile, head of the Democratic National Committee. Brazile had just run a perfectly respectable campaign on behalf of that bumbling buffoon Al Gore.

She also happens to be black. Again, blacks give 90 percent of their votes to the Democrats.

But the Democrats skipped over Brazile and handed the DNC chairmanship to the goofy white guy in lime green pants, Howard Dean.

What I like is that a conservative pundit like Ann Coulter can find something to like in a Democrat. I like Donna Brazile myself. She sounds reasonable. She doesn’t talk down to people (unlike some liberals). She can disagree while remaining friendly.

4. I thought this post was good, even before the recent earthquake in Haiti: Believers and Black Swan Scotoma. It’s by Messianic Rabbi Bruce Cohen, and it concerns theodocy: Why do bad things happen to good people?

Christian authors write books and preach sermons about how we can live prosperous, happy lives, without being touched by tragedy. But no one is insulated from tragedy. Rabbi Cohen refers to Christian musician Stephen Curtis Chapman, whose seven-year old daughter was killed in an accident. Rabbi Cohen states that we don’t understand why tragedy occurs and that we should serve God because it’s the right thing to do, not to get rewards.

This brought to mind other posts, such as atheist John Loftus’ The Darwinian Problem of Evil, in which Loftus quotes Charles Darwin’s dismissal of the theistic argument that suffering brings moral improvement. According to Darwin, it doesn’t always, plus that argument doesn’t account for why animals suffer.

Or there’s Rachel Held Evans’ post, Is God in control? , which takes on the Calvinist claim that God controls everything. She doesn’t believe God would ordain the rape of a child. By contrast, some Calvinists may argue that even that can fit within God’s righteous purposes.

I’m not sure what to say about theodicy. In a sense, I hope that my relationship with God will ensure that things will turn out well for me, and that my loved ones and I would escape tragedy. That’s one reason I pray: so that things will turn out well in my and other people’s lives. That’s a basis for hope. And, if there is tragedy, there’s a part of me that would like to see that as part of a righteous purpose. As an elderly church lady once asked a skeptical waitress, “What’s the alternative?” To believe that things are pointless?

But it’s not easy when the pain of real life comes crashing through.

Priests Vs. Singers, the Degeneracy/Disappointing-God Circle, Kellie Martin on Christy

1. I finally finished Othmar Keel’s Symbolism of the Biblical World! Today, I want to comment on something I read on pages 324-325. Keel mentions Sigmund Mowinkel, and, because I don’t know if I’ll get to reading him, I want to interact with his ideas a little bit.

Keel notes that sacrifices are rarely mentioned in the Psalms. The exception would be votive thank offerings, and, even then, “the hymn that accompanies the offering is often given prominence as the decisive factor (Pss 40:6-10; 50:14, 23; 69:30, 31). According to Mowinkel, this is because there was a rivalry between priests, who offered sacrifices, and the temple singers, who wrote most of the Psalms. But Keel doesn’t seem to buy that, for anti-sacrifice passages (i.e., Psalm 46:6; cf. 50) “cannot be explained by such rivalries.” Personally, I don’t understand Keel’s reasoning here, for, in my mind, such passages appear to support the existence of such a rivalry: the temple singers challenge the priesthood by saying that animal sacrifices don’t matter because of the superiority of prayer and praise. But what do I know? Keel’s solution is that animal sacrifices are impersonal, whereas a song of thanksgiving adds a personal dimension to thank offerings—presumably because the songs are directed towards God and have content about what God has done for the worshipper. Thank offerings are primarily about God and the worshipper eating a meal, however, and there isn’t much content to that.

For me, singing songs can become empty, especially when it comes to Dwight Armstrong tunes and traditional hymns. I know I should respect traditional hymns because they were written by great men of God who went through trials and growth experiences: there was Charles Wesley, and the guy who wrote “Amazing Grace,” who converted from being a slave trader. But I tend to feel closer to God when I hear contemporary music.

Incidentally, Mowinkel’s proposal reminds me of Israel Knohl’s book, The Sanctuary of Silence. In my post, Christmas: God Becomes Less Aloof, I refer to Knohl’s view that the priests supported silence before God, so their writings don’t have songs. But, if they had the power, why didn’t they prevail? Maybe it was because music was so popular, so the majority of Israelites didn’t want to ditch their praise songs.

2. I read the Anchor Bible Dictionary article on the Book of Malachi. The following passage caught my attention:

The oracles of Malachi reflect conditions associated with the period of pre-Ezran decline (ca. 515–458 b.c., i.e., from the completion of the Second Temple to the ministry of Ezra in Jerusalem, assuming the traditional date for Ezra’s journey to Jerusalem to be correct). While the Second Temple had been completed at the prompting of Haggai and Zechariah (Hag 1:1–6; Ezra 5:1–2; cf. Ezra 3:10–13; 6:13–15), the apathy and disillusionment within the restoration community, which permitted the temple precinct to lie in ruins for nearly twenty years, continued to permeate the group. The prophetic vision of a renewed Davidic state under Zerubbabel never materialized (Hag 2:20–23). The material prosperity predicted by Haggai (2:6–9) never came to pass, and the streaming migration of former Jewish captives foreseen by Zechariah (8:1–8) never occurred. Zerubbabel was likely deposed by order of Darius, who was attempting to control the upheaval in his newly acquired empire by ousting those in Persia and outlying provinces who were deemed political liabilities. The completion of the Second Temple ushered in no messianic age (Mal 3:6–12; cf. Zech 8:9–23). The ideal of Ezekiel’s temple state quickly faded amid the stark reality of Persian domination and the problems of mere survival in a city surrounded by hostile foreigners. Zechariah’s call to a deeper spiritual life went unheeded, and was even mocked by God’s apparent failure to restore covenantal blessings (8:4–13; cf. 10:1–2; Mal 3:13–15). If the records of Ezra and Nehemiah are any indication, then the messianic oracles of Second Zechariah and Malachi had little impact on postexilic morale (cf. Ezra 9:1–4; Neh 5:1–8; 11:1–3). Given the testimony of scanty written documents to the contrary, even the prophetic voice soon ceased to be a factor in the Jewish restoration community (cf. Mal 4:5). Jerusalem, probably under a Persian governor, remained part of a small, struggling, and insignificant satrapy in the vast Persian empire—a social and political backwater. The Persians themselves were engaged in a titanic contest for control of the west against the Greeks.

It is against this background that Malachi prophesies in Jerusalem. The ongoing petty hostilities with the Samaritans and burdensome vassal status to Persia notwithstanding, the prophet’s message focused on the quality of religious and social life with the restoration community. Skepticism and doubt characterized popular response to Yahweh as God (1:2). The priesthood was bored with formal religions (1:13) and showed only contempt and indifference to ceremonial and moral purity (1:6–12). The general populace had followed the lead of the priests (2:8–9). The people were cheating God out of his tithe (3:6–12) and the proper sacrifices sanctioned by covenant law (1:14). Even obedience to the stipulations of divine covenant was deemed useless because God was not acting in accordance with his nature (2:17; 3:13–15). This breakdown of functional Yahwism precipitated intermarriage with foreign women (2:10–12), attendant idolatry (2:11), scandalous divorce (2:13–16), as well as sorcery, adultery, perjury, and social injustice (3:5). The very elements of nature had compounded the misery and bleakness of the community with drought, blighted crops, and locust plagues (3:10–11). In the final analysis, it was a most dismal and sordid scenario to which Malachi came as God’s spokesman.

Did Israel become morally and spiritually degenerate because God was a disappointment, or was God not acting as they wished because of their moral and spiritual degeneracy? The prophets usually opt for the latter, and there may be truth to that. But Malachi goes out of his way to encourage Israel that God loves her and will intervene on behalf of righteousness, so there may be a sense in which her lack of faith was making her spiritually sicker.

3. I said a few days ago that I’m revisiting the 1994 show, Christy (see Revisiting Christy). I enjoyed this 2001 interview with Kellie Martin, the star of the program: Kellie Martin–Exclusive Interview about Christy. Here are some passages I enjoyed:

As fans of the show and the book know, Christy was romantically drawn to two characters: David Grantland, the preacher, and Neil MacNeill (what a name!), the agnostic doctor. The big question was which person Christy would end up with, and—in both the book and the TV show—it was the doctor. Here’s a passage about that:

Q: You may be aware by now (or you may not) but the majority of the Christy fans have always preferred MacNeill for Christy over Grantland. Of course, that reflects the flow of the book, but it definitely is also true of the majority of the fans of the series. When we did a survey recently (before the mini series) we found out that 90% of the fans were supporters of Christy with MacNeill. Were you aware of the fans preference, and comment on why you think this is so or why this information surprises you?

KM: I think people want Christy to end up with MacNeill because he challenges her and makes her a more interesting character. I am not surprised to find that most of the fans prefer that outcome.

As I watch the show, I think that Christy looks more natural with Pastor Grantland, since he brings out her nurturing qualities (because, well, he’s a brooder who needs support!). But the doctor seems to care more for Christy, and he does challenge her. I remember when I watched the pilot for the very first time (in 1994), and Dr. MacNeill asked Christy why Christianity was so important to her. Christy proceeded to spit back platitudes about evil being real, and MacNeill replied, “Is that all you’ve got—platitudes? Don’t you have a thought of your own?” I found that to be a turn-off because people have put me on the spot like that, without being satisfied with my answers. MacNeill challenging Christy certainly makes for an interesting relationship! But I’m not sure if I’d want a wife who puts me on the spot all of the time. I’d prefer a woman who comforts me when I’m brooding! Maybe that’s a desire I should change.

Here’s another part, which concerns the more recent Christy movies. Kellie Martin chose not to star in them, so somebody else played Christy:

Q: Was it difficult for you watching someone else play Christy? How did it feel to watch and see Christy finally get married?

KM: I thought it would be difficult to watch someone else play Christy, but, surprisingly, it wasn’t. Rather than compare our performances, I just enjoyed watching the continuation of a story. I am so happy that the new movies tied up the loose ends left by the series. The marriage issue pervaded so much of the book and the series that it was nice to have the question finally answered (MacNeill or David) and have Christy with a ring on her finger.

I admire her honesty, and also how she lost her ego in the story, which turned out to be easier than she thought.

I also thought it was awesome that Kellie Martin gave this interview on December 18, as she was busily preparing for Christmas.

That’s all for today. See you tomorrow (or tonight, if I get insomnia)!

Haiti

I’m having another fit of insomnia, and my slight headache is still annoying me. One of my tasks tomorrow: get some Tylenol!

I’ve been thinking about Rachel Held Evans’ post, We already failed Haiti , which deals with theodicy and the Christian obligation to help the poor. Polycarp also discusses the recent earthquake in Hundreds of thousands dead in Haiti quake and Organizations where you can help the people of Haiti. Here are some thoughts about Haiti:

1. I don’t know how to pray for large-scale events. I can pray for an individual who needs healing or money for food, but I don’t know what I should pray when it comes to an entire nation. Should I pray that God will keep people from dying? What makes me think he’ll answer that prayer? He hasn’t kept people from dying so far.

One thing I hope about Haiti is that it will become more just, that people will become convicted to love their neighbors as themselves. At a meeting yesterday, a friend was talking about how the wedding of Baby Doc (a former leader in Haiti) cost millions of dollars. This is tragic, when there are so many who are dirt poor in that country. So I pray for conviction.

2. Polycarp posted Don Miller Pities Pat Robertson; Rush Limbaugh weighs in. To be honest, I have a hard time hating Pat Robertson for his comments. They are problematic theologically, but his voice was shaking when he made them. It was like he was discussing a solemn, serious, saddening issue rather than just shooting from the hip, which is what he did when he said we should take out Chavez. Rush Limbaugh’s comments, however, disgust me. Why’s he have to take a tragic situation and use it to bash President Obama as having a sinister motivation?

Rush would probably say that the liberals did that with 9/11. Personally, contrary to the views of some on the right, I don’t think that 9/11 should have insulated the Bush Administration from criticism. And, if Obama does something wrong when he helps Haiti, or if there are better ways to assist the nation than he proposes, then that should be pointed out. But, please, don’t bash the President as having a sinister political motivation, when we can’t even read the man’s mind! Maybe he sincerely wants to help.

3. There are people in my family who are skeptical about charities, and appropriately so. Money was misappropriated after 9/11 and the tsunamis, and that’s tragic. People would respond, however, that we shouldn’t allow cynicism to keep us from donating to charities, since what’t important is that we’re giving, regardless of what the charities do with our money.

I wonder if there’s a middle ground or a third way to look at the situation. Sure, I don’t think cynicism should paralyze me from giving, but I also think it’s mistaken to say I shouldn’t care how charities spend my money. Money is scarce for me, so, when I give it to charity, I hope it’s accomplishing something positive.

4. I’m not sure if I’ll donate money to help Haiti. I already give some to my local Food Bank, which helps the hungry in Cincinnati. There are all sorts of causes out there, and I can’t help all of them.

5. One point Rachel made is that many in America live in luxury, and she’s convicted that she does so when there are so many people who lack the basic necessities. I said on her blog that I don’t have much money, but that’s not a good excuse, for I spend some of what I do have on such luxuries as cable, Internet, going out to eat every now and then, etc. And I’m extremely hesitant to part with that.

I don’t plan to part with my luxuries, since life would be pretty miserable if I had to live a Spartan existence. Does part of me feel guilty about that? Yes. But my mind’s made up.

6. Rachel linked to World Vision, and it only costs $38 a month to help a child. That’s not too much. Granted, if I gave to World Vision, I’d stop donating to my local Food Pantry. But it’s still not that much.

7. When I attended Harvard, a prominent liberal evangelical was promoting a sponsor-a-child-in-a-foreign-country charity. I vaguely remember him saying that, if I don’t donate, then I’m not a true Christian. I’m going with my memory here, and it’s flawed. But I resent manipulation. Evangelicals do well to point out that we should think of others besides ourselves. But some evangelicals’ method of doing this makes me recoil from evangelicalism. Part of it is that I don’t like being told what to do. My gut response when I hear something like that is “I’ll do what I want with my own money, thank you very much, and I won’t let you guilt-trip me with your intimidation and your power-trip, prominent evangelical whom people would recognize if I named him, so I’ll keep him anonymous so I’m not sued for libel!” I like how Paul handled charity in I-II Corinthians (which Rachel quotes): he focused on the positive. He encouraged. He presented God as someone who wants to bless. He talked about how donations could accomplish good. He tried to bring out the best in people.

8. On the theodicy issue, I don’t know what to say. Rachel dislikes the notion that the earthquake was God’s punishment because innocent people (e.g., children) have suffered, but there are plenty of times in the Bible when children die as a result of God’s wrath. Another problem Rachel has identified with blaming natural disasters on human sin is that we really don’t know what sin God would be punishing if that were the case. John Piper blamed a natural disaster on homosexuality, but who’s to say that God wasn’t punishing Christians who hate homosexuals? If God is chastening us with natural disasters, it’s basically our guess what his lesson is. What kind of pedagogy is that?

I don’t worry about theodicy because I don’t have any answers as to why bad things happen. I am commanded to love people, however—to at least be concerned with their pain, and, if I can, to help them out. In addition, at least the doctrine of Christ’s second coming gives me the hope that things will be made right some day. That’s why I don’t understand atheists who refuse to believe in God on account of the problems in the world. If there’s no God, what hope is there that things will be made right?