Temptation and Spiritual Warfare (with LOST, the Bible, and Testament of Solomon Thrown Into the Mix)

I am plowing through a 1000-page book on the New Testament, so I won’t be writing any book reviews for at least a week.  In this post, I want to write about a scene in the Testament of Solomon, which I read sometime back.  According to the Charlesworth Pseudepigrapha, the Testament of Solomon dates from the first century C.E. to the third century C.E.  D.C. Duling was the translator of the Testament of Solomon for the Charlesworth Pseudepigrapha, and it is from his translation that I will be quoting.

The Testament of Solomon is about King Solomon’s power over demons.  Specifically, Solomon captures demons who are having an adverse effect on humanity and makes them work on the construction of the Temple.  The idea that Solomon had power against demons is also present in Josephus’ Antiquities 8.2.5, which dates to the first century C.E.

In Testament of Solomon 1:8-13, Solomon gives a boy a signet-ring to capture a demon.  Solomon instructs the boy to thrust the ring into the demon’s chest and to say to the demon, “Come!  Solomon summons you!”  The boy immediately after this is to run away from the demon before the demon can say anything frightening to him.

The demon Ornias shows up to take away the boy’s pay, as he usually did, and the boy does as Solomon instructed, thrusting the ring into the demon’s chest and ordering the demon to come.  The boy then runs away, and the demon calls after him.  The demon says that, if the boy removes the ring from his chest, he will give the boy all the earth’s silver and gold.

The boy responds to the demon: “As the Lord God of Israel lives, I will never withstand you if I do not deliver you to Solomon.”  The boy then tells Solomon: “King Solomon, I brought the demon to you just as you commanded me; observe how he is standing bound in front of the gates outside, crying out with a great voice to give me all the silver and gold of the earth so that I would not deliver him to you.”

I thought about the TV series LOST when I read this story.  In the last season of LOST, the smoke monster was appearing in the guise of John Locke.  Someone who was being instructed to kill the smoke monster was told to thrust the knife into the smoke monster’s chest before the smoke monster could speak.  Once the smoke monster speaks, the battle is lost.  Why was this suggested?  Because the smoke monster was wily.  He could get inside of a person’s head.  He knew what made a person tick, and what he could appeal to or exploit to get his own way.  If allowed to speak, the smoke monster might end up convincing the person that he, the smoke monster, is the good guy, whereas the other side is the enemy.

Some Christians have suggested that we should take the same approach when it comes to Satan, or temptation in general.  Do not engage Satan in conversation!  I remember reading one homiletic commentary that said that Eve in Genesis 3 was wrong to answer the serpent’s question and attempts to engage her: that gave the serpent an opportunity to get inside of her head, to get her to doubt God’s word and love for her, and to encourage her desire for wisdom and Godhood.  What did this commentator think she should have done instead?  She could have just left, I suppose.  Or she could have been like Jesus in the temptation story in Matthew 4: she should have stood by the word of God.  Jesus in Matthew 4 did respond to Satan, but that does not initially strike me as a give-and-take interaction, in which Jesus evaluated Satan’s arguments and offered a rebuttal to them.  Rather, Jesus stood by the word of God: “it is written!”

Like the boy in the Testament of Solomon story, I can understand that I am vulnerable.  I can be frightened.  There are things that I desire that a malevolent force can appeal to if he so desires.  In those cases, I think that the approach that Solomon advised is wise: don’t engage the temptation!  Just say “no!”  The boy in the story fled to Solomon to tell Solomon what was going on.  The boy probably did not want to be alone in this troubling, disturbing, challenging situation.  Similarly, we do not have to be alone when we are tempted.  Maybe we can talk to someone who can help us or be there for us.  Or we can talk to God.

Where I get a little leery is when some of these insights are applied to the intellectual arena.  “Don’t read or engage that atheist book.  That is from Satan!  It will hinder or damage your spiritual life!  It will undermine your faith and trust in God!”  I think that is essentially putting on blinders, closing one’s eyes to what is really out there.  I suppose that Satan conceivably could have put into the ground the fossils that support evolution, or that God could have done so to test our faith.  But would God operate that way: allowing or making the world to appear a certain way, when it is actually different?  Isn’t that deceptive?  Would a God who appeals to people’s reason or experience in the Bible do that as part of his M.O.?  Moreover, many scientists have said that there is evidence for evolution at the DNA level.  Satan burying fossils is one thing; Satan tampering with our DNA is something else.  DNA is part of how God himself made us.

Let’s return to the temptation story in Matthew 4.  Maybe Jesus, in saying “It is written,” was not like Matthew Harrison Brady on the witness stand in Inherit the Wind, offering an empty response of “I believe the Bible” or “the Bible says” in response to Henry Drummond’s poignant challenges.  Perhaps Jesus actually was engaging Satan’s points, challenging their assumptions, showing that there was more to the story.  Satan tempted Jesus to turn stones into bread to assuage his hunger in the desert, and Jesus thought back to the Deuteronomy story: the Israelites learned in the wilderness that life was not just about eating but entailed learning to obey, trust, and rely on God.  The story of Scripture, not an empty and mindless appeal to Scripture, was upholding Jesus when Jesus was faced with temptation.

I’ll stop here.

Frozen, Once Upon a Time, Elizabeth Mitchell

I watched the Disney movie Frozen last week, since the TV series Once Upon a Time is focusing on the Frozen characters this season.  Watching Frozen certainly enhanced my appreciation of last Sunday’s episode!  I understood why Anna was going by “Joan” (she admired Joan of Ark in the movie).  I could appreciate her statement that she loved sandwiches (she loved them in the movie).  When she said in last Sunday’s episode that she risked her life to teach her sister Elsa that survival was not the same as living, I knew what she was talking about, for I experienced it with her in watching the movie.

What’s more, I actually liked the Frozen characters in Once Upon a Time after seeing the movie, more than I did before seeing it.   When I first saw the first episode of this season, which was before I saw the movie, I did not care for the Frozen characters as much.  Anna seemed to me to be chattering aimlessly.  Perhaps I did admire Elsa’s display of power: in the preview, she said that no one would leave the town until she found her sister!  But, overall, I liked the characters better after seeing the movie, maybe because I enjoyed the movie and got to know the characters.

Elizabeth Mitchell will be playing the snow queen this season.  At the end of last Sunday’s episode, the announcer referred to her as “LOST‘s Elizabeth Mitchell.”  That at first puzzled me, since LOST ended about four years ago, and Elizabeth Mitchell was in other things since then.   But it shouldn’t puzzle me.  Why would ABC mention the fact that she was on Revolution, an NBC show?  And, while she was on V, an ABC show, LOST was a more successful ABC show.  It lasted longer, and it ended rather than getting cancelled.

I did not like Elizabeth Mitchell on LOST at first on account of her smirk, which looked pretty smug.  But I got to like her better when I learned that I had already seen her in things, playing characters that I liked.  I think of the mom on the movie Frequency.  Plus, I warmed up to her a bit on LOST because I got used to her being around.

The Purpose of Holiness and Morality

The December 2 entry for Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest stood out to me when I read it, particularly one line: Chambers' statement that "The emphasis of holiness movements is apt to be that God is producing specimens of holiness to put in His museum."

Why should we strive to be holy, or, if you prefer, moral people?  Is it so that God can put us into a museum to showcase to others what God can do, or to enable us to be inspiring examples to others?  That may be a reason, but I doubt that it's the only reason.  It only pushes the question back.  So we're supposed to advertise to others what God can do and live lives that inspire people to strive to be righteous and holy.  Why?  So that they can be righteous and holy.  But that only brings us back to our original question: Why should people strive to be righteous and holy?

I think that an obvious answer is that righteousness makes for an orderly world.  The world is a better place if people respect one another and live in peace with each other, maybe even love one another-----for the world would be a pretty cold place if people merely respected each other but did not care how others were doing.  Moreover, theistic religions hold that it's important that we believe in a power greater than ourselves, God, rather than seeing ourselves as the sum of all things.  A theme within Christianity is that the world got to be out of whack on account of sin, and Christ came to earth to heal the world.  When we are holy and righteous, we are participating in the orderly world that God is creating.

That should be good enough----that we should do what's right because it's right and thus has positive consequences.  But there are people who believe that there's more to the issue than that, that there are other reasons that we should cultivate holiness and righteousness.  I once heard a religious author interact with a question: What exactly is the Christian life preparing us for?  When we practice for basketball (or, more accurately, when others practice for basketball, since I'm not particularly athletic!), we're preparing for a game in which we can use the skills that we are practicing.  Is the same true with the Christian life?

I suppose that one can say that we're practicing morality so that we can meet the greater moral challenges, the times when it's especially difficult to be moral.  There's wisdom to that.  The answer of the religious author to his own question, however, was that we're practicing love now so that we'll be able to love people from different backgrounds in the new heavens and the new earth, which Christ will set up after his return.  I once heard an Armstrongite preacher argue along similar lines, only he used another apocalyptic example: he said that many Christians, during the time of their eschatological persecution at the hands of the Beast, will be in close quarters when God is protecting them.  During that time, they will have to love one another, otherwise how will they live with each other?  It's kind of like what Jack said on LOST: "Live together, die alone."  That may explain why people who live in the time of the end will need to be moral (depending on if you accept that eschatological scenario), but not exactly why people who lived before that time needed to be so.

But, overall, Armstrongites have another explanation for why we need to build character: that we will become god-like beings, part of the God Family, perhaps even ruling our own planets.  We're building character in order to be moral rulers, in short.  I wouldn't exactly phrase things in the extreme fashion that Armstrongites do, but I agree with them that there is a New Testament expectation that the saints will rule (II Timothy 2:12; Revelation 20:6).  Not just anybody can rule, for a person needs moral character to do so, lest he or she become a tyrant.  Rulers need to be like Mufafsa in the Lion King, sensitive to balance and the circle of life and what is good for the community, rather than like Scar, who was out for power and did not care for the community. 

There are Armstrongites who tend to look down on Christians who lack the expectation that the saints will rule in the millennium and the new heavens and the new earth.  These Armstrongites characterize such Christians as people who think that God regards people as pets rather than future rulers, who look forward to sitting on a cloud with a harp, and who do not posit any real purpose for the Christian life.  I can somewhat understand where these Armstrongites are coming from.  I am seriously doubtful that many Christians expect to be sitting on a cloud playing a harp, but it does seem to me that a number of them lack a belief that they will rule.  Rather, my impression has been that they present heaven and life after the resurrection as a time when they will worship God and spend time with their families, friends, and loved ones.  I'm not against that, for I expect that, too, but, like Armstrongites, I'd like for there to be more than that for us in the time of eschatological hope----projects that we can work on, unlimited possibilities, opportunities for us to put into practice our knowledge and creativity, etc.  

That doesn't mean that I look down on Christians who lack this sort of hope, or feel that I can learn nothing from them.  For one, if they teach and practice righteousness, then I can learn from them, for righteousness has practical value in this life, in that it makes for an orderly society and hopefully makes us into orderly individuals, rather than people who are continually hitting our heads into brick walls and suffering bad consequences from our action.  Second, while the Bible does talk about the saints ruling, my impression is that it does not seem to offer a whole lot of specifics, or even to harp on the issue as much as Armstrongites do.  Consequently, I think that people who believe that the saints will rule should be humble, not looking down on those who lack this eschatological expectation.  God has worked with and through people who lack this hope, and my opinion is that God still does so.

Margie Impert on Magnum, P.I.

I'm a Highway to Heaven fan.  I watched it regularly when I was a kid coming home from school, and I own the first three seasons as an adult.  (Unfortunately, A&E only released the first three seasons.) 

One character I've always liked was Diane, who was the wife of Scotty, a quadraplegic lawyer.  Diane was played by actress Margie Impert.  As you can tell from the Internet Movie Database, Margie Impert did her acting work during the late 1960s to the mid-1980s, and Highway to Heaven was the last thing that she did.  But I've long wanted to see the role that she played in Magnum, P.I.  And, not long ago, I had such an opportunity.

In Magnum, P.I, Margie Impert played Madeline Jones, a clerk in the records office.  The first episode on which she appeared, "Mr. White Death", was on TV in 1982.  On this episode, Magnum went to the records office to look for information in order to find the son of a wrestler (and the wrestler was played by the late Ernest Borgnine).  Magnum had to wait in a long line, and, when he finally got to the front, Ms. Jones at the desk was talking on the phone with her boyfriend (or maybe he was her husband), Ray, rather than helping Magnum.  Ms. Jones was upset because Ray was seeing another woman.  After she hung up the phone, she shouted at Magnum to mind his own business!

The next episode on which she appeared was "Blind Justice", which was on TV in 1984.  I don't entirely remember what the plot of that episode was, but I recall that it related to an abusive husband who was accused of murder.  Magnum had to go to the records office to get help from Ms. Jones.  Ms. Jones was a lot sweeter this time around, and she got Magnum his information.  But then, she was talking on the phone with Ray, upset that he wouldn't eat dinner with her.  Magnum exclaimed to the lady he was with, "This is the exact same conversation she had when I was here three years ago!"  When Ms. Jones hangs up the phone, she shouts at Magnum to mind his own business!

Well, it's inevitable that Ms. Jones would get her own episode, and, in 1985, she did.  The episode was called "Ms. Jones".  In this episode, we get to witness Ms. Jones' usual rudeness, but we also see something else about her: she is a genius.  She has the ability to understand and remember complex details of land law, and she is really good at chess.  (Higgins later in the episode seeks to learn some of her chess knowledge while she is undergoing hypnosis.)  The plot of this episode is that Ray has been kidnapped, presumably on account of some invention that he made, and Ms. Jones comes to Magnum for help in finding him.  We hear the story of how Ms. Jones met and fell in love with Ray----she was an eccentric outsider, and Ray made her feel accepted.  We also see that Ray is played by Sam Anderson, who would later play Bernard on LOST!  And the guy who played Colonel Decker on the A-Team, Lance LeGault, played a stern colonel on this episode of Magnum. 

To my surprise (and maybe I shouldn't be overly surprised by this), Diane in Highway to Heaven was quite different from Ms. Jones in Magnum.  Diane was a strong woman who encouraged her husband and pushed him to do what was right.  Ms. Jones also was a strong woman, but she was jealous, rude, and eccentric in a genius-sort-of-way (not that Diane wasn't smart). 

Terra Nova Season Finale Tonight!

Today, I’ll take a break from writing about David Marshall’s Jesus and the Religions of Man, and instead I will write about Terra Nova, a show that is on Monday nights, on Fox. The two-hour season finale of Terra Nova is on tonight!

I have liked some episodes better then others and have found the romantic dialogue to be hokey and cheesy, to say the least. Also, I am not incredibly attracted to most of the characters (in contrast to, say, LOST). But I have enjoyed this series overall, and there are a variety of reasons for this. First, I like the character of Commander Nathaniel Taylor (played by Stephen Lang) because he is melodramatic and takes himself too seriously, somewhat like General Hammond on Stargate SG-1, and yet Commander Taylor sometimes demonstrates a softer side. Second, I enjoy shows and stories that have such elements as conflicts between powerful personalities, mystery, and redemption. And, third, remember the movie, The Fugitive, where we admire and like Tommy Lee Jones as the cop who is pursuing Dr. Richard Kendall (played by Harrison Ford), and yet we are still rooting for Kendall to escape because he’s an innocent man who was framed? I really liked it when Tommy Lee Jones finally found out that Dr. Kendall did not kill his wife and became his ally rather than his pursuer. Well, Terra Nova had a theme like this in last week’s episode.

I’ll give some information here about the plot and characters of the series, but I don’t want to get overly bogged down in details, such that writing this post becomes a chore. Essentially, Terra Nova is about people from a futuristic earth going back to the dinosaur times (in an alternate timeline, so as not to affect the future) in order to provide humanity with a fresh start, since the futuristic earth is plagued with problems such as overpopulation and pollution. There is the Terra Nova colony, which is led by Commander Taylor. And there are Sixers, another colony, which is led by Mira. There is tension between these two groups. For a while, we wonder if we can really trust Commander Taylor, and if Mira is actually one of the good people, but what we have learned is that Mira is on the side of Taylor’s estranged son, who is developing another portal to allow developers from the future to come back to the dinosaur period and to plunder the land. Mira and the Sixers are not exactly evil, though, for Mira is a mother who wants to see her daughter again. Like the Others in LOST, the Sixers appear to be enemies, but they are actually complex people, with complex motives, like many of us.

Throughout the series, Taylor is aware that someone is spying for the Sixers, and we are wondering who that spy is. It turns out that the spy is Skye, a teenaged girl to whom Taylor is a sort of father figure, since she has supposedly lost her parents. But Skye is not a spy out of sinister motives, for she is spying for the Sixers because they have her sick mother. What reminded me of The Fugitive was that Terra Nova’s security chief, Jim Shannon, figured out that Skye was spying for the Sixers against her own will, for she wasn’t giving the Sixers any information that could actually harm Terra Nova. Commander Taylor was ready to hang her (figuratively speaking), but Shannon was a moderating influence.

The theme of redemption has occurred in this series a couple of times. There is Shannon’s son, Josh, who wants to bring his girlfriend from the future back to Terra Nova, and he has secretly cooperated with the Sixers in an attempt to bring this about. But his father found out, and Josh learned his lesson. There is a guy who killed a man in Terra Nova, and Taylor expelled him from the colony. At one point, Taylor gave a dramatic speech about how the colony is humanity trying to start afresh, and how things like murder is what people came to Terra Nova to escape—-even though we learn that Taylor himself has killed important people in his own attempt to protect the colony from future developers (or so he tells us). But the expelled murderer ends up redeeming himself when he spies on the Sixers and brings Skye’s mother safely to the Terra Nova colony. Taylor tells Jim Shannon that it’s good when someone has a chance to redeem himself, as he reflects on his own mistakes, which led to his alienation from his son.

I’m looking forward to the season finale tonight, and it would be nice if the show could be renewed for a second season. Lately, I’ve looked forward to watching it on Monday nights!

I Missed That

I’m still reading Stephen King’s Lisey Story, but there’s a good chance that I will finish it tonight or tomorrow.

I’m finding that there area few holes in my understanding of the plot. For instance, what is Scott Landon’s “long boy” that he so often mentions? In my reading last night, I learned that it was a creature in Boo’ya Moon, an alternative reality that Scott visits, where Scott finds healing and inspiration. When Scott was dying (the doctors identified his disease as pneumonia, but Lisey reflects that it could have easily been something that Scott picked up at Boo’ya Moon), he was unable to access the healing pool because his “long boy” was blocking his path. But the long boy did manage to help out Lisey. When a psychopathic fan of Scott Landon, James Dooley, was after Lisey so he could take her late husband’s manuscripts and give them to a professor who wanted them, Lisey and her sister Amanda take Dooley to the Boo’ya Moon, and there Scott’s long boy kills him, or absorbs Dooley into himself.

On page 449, Lisey reflects that the long boy was “the living embodiment of what Scott had been talking about when he talked about the bad-gunky.” The bad gunky was a sort of madness or depression that ran through Scott’s family, and the long boy is somehow an embodiment of that. There is some depth or symbolism that may inhabit this book, therefore, even though Lisey takes a whack at literary criticism on pages 415-416:

“Lisey looked at the many drawers of Dumbo’s Big Jumbo, but going through them seemed like make-work now…and probably was. She had an idea that there was very little of actual interest up here. Not in the drawers, not in the filing cabinets, not hiding on the computer hard drives. Oh, maybe a little treasure for the more rabid Incunks, the collectors and the academics who maintained their positions in large part by examining the literary equivalent of navel-lint in each other’s abstruse journals; ambitious, overeducated goofs who had lost touch with what books and reading were actually about and could be content to go on spinning straw into footnoted fool’s gold for decades on end. But all the real horses were out of the barn. The Scott Landon stuff that had pleased regular readers—-people stuck on airplanes between L.A. and Sydney, people stuck in hospital waiting rooms, people idling their way through long, rainy summer vacation days, taking turns between the novel of the week and the jigsaw puzzle out on the sunporch—-all that stuff had been published. The Secret Pearl, published a month after his death, had been the last.”

This reminds me of a passage in Stephen King’s IT, in which the narrator talks about Bill Denbrough’s frustration with literary critics who try to find some complex sexual or political symbolism in stories, rather than simply enjoying them as good stories. Stephen King writes a good story, but, at the same time, notwithstanding the mockery of literary criticism that comes out in some of his books, he does use symbolism. Here is an article that comments on that issue, referencing the LOST episode in which Juliet was leading a group discussion about Stephen King, while responding to someone in the group who did not think that King wrote serious work.

As far as Scott’s “long boy” goes, I suppose that I could go through the book again and read every single reference to it in order to understand better what it is. I think that I missed it in reading the book this first time around because the book has a lot of silly language that I do not understand, language that was a part of the repertoire between Scott and Lisey in their relationship, and I thought that “long boy” was just another example of that—-silly language that was non-essential to the plot. I don’t plan to reread the book anytime soon, though. To be honest, I’m eager to leave this book behind and to go on to something else. I would probably appreciate the book better were it made into a movie, since then I could follow it better. I may reread the book in the distant future, though, because, although I did not fall in love with it this first time around, it is a good book, and I could probably appreciate it the second time around, after gaining a degree of distance from it. I could then return to the book knowing what to expect and to look for, and I’d appreciate it more.

Authority

On page 325 of Stephen King’s The Stand: The Complete and Uncut Edition, Fran thinks the following:

“If the system of authority had temporarily broken down, they would just have to find the scattered others and re-form it. It didn’t occur to her to wonder why ‘authority’ seemed to be such a necessary thing to have, any more than it occurred to her to wonder why she had automatically felt responsible for Harold. It just was. Structure was a necessary thing.”

I can somewhat identify with Fran here on authority. While I like to read about people who challenge authority, I like for someone to be in charge because there are then structures in place that can help me. As Jack said on LOST, “Live together, or die alone.” But a fear of chaos and anarchy is why there are people who have preferred or tolerated strong dictators: a strong leader is better than chaos, in the eyes of some.

But what if one disagrees out of principle with what an authority is doing? Even that could lead to chaos, unless there are people who are willing to replace the oppressive authority with an alternative government, one that is able to gain acceptance and legitimacy in the eyes of the vast majority of people. This was the case with the American Revolution.

Plato’s Socrates in Crito, Henry David Thoreau, and others resolved to disobey laws that they deemed unjust, and yet they agreed to suffer legal punishment because the authority structure needed to be maintained for the common good. (Or I can say that about Plato’s Socrates, but I have not read much of Thoreau.) They had a way to challenge authority with a higher law, while acknowledging the necessity of the authority structure.

UPDATE: See Looney's comments. I may be reading civil disobedience into Crito. It's been a while since I read it.

Ruether on Matthew Fox (Not Jack from LOST)

In my reading today of Gaia and God, Rosemary Ruether talks about the view that cultures long ago were matriarchal, until a patriarchal horde came in and imposed patriarchy. Ruether, a feminist, actually doesn't find the evidence for that tale to be all that convincing. She does talk about tribes, however, in which women are valued---tribes that see more importance in sharing than in acquisition. But I won't go into detail about that in this post.

Something that I like about Ruether's book is her summary of different theological positions---whether she's looking at the Bible, or Origen, or Augustine. One summary of hers that I read today was that of Matthew Fox, who, in this case, is not the guy who played Jack on Lost, but rather a Dominican theologian. Or, actually, he was a Dominican theologian, but now he's an Episcopalian.

I first heard of Fox at DePauw University. I knew two religion students who were writing their thesis on him. One lady told me, "You wouldn't like him," since she realized that I was conservative. Nowadays, who knows? Maybe I would like him.

For Fox, the essential goodness of creation is more important than its fallenness or evil. After all, he notes, the cosmos is fourteen billion years older than humanity, and so "original blessing" is older than human sin. But, according to Ruether, Fox traces sin to the rise of patriarchy "some four thousand to six thousand years ago" (page 146). So does he believe in the narrative that Ruether critiques---the narrative that society was matriarchal, and fell to become patriarchal?

For Fox, the Christian theology about Fall and redemption promotes alienation, and the West's imposition of this idea on other cultures has been sad, especially because these other cultures highlighted the importance of harmony with nature before the West colonized them. According to Ruether, "Fox's creation spirituality stresses forms of meditation, liturgy, and therapy designed to free us from cultures of alienation and restore our harmony with the original blessing that remains the true 'nature' of things" (page 146).

I may take a look at Fox's book, Original Blessing, sometime in the future. Personally, I find that seeing people (even myself) and things as "bad" alienates me from them. I'm not saying that I'm "good," per se, but, yes, there is good within me, and I'd like to do a better job of acknowledging the goodness of others, even those I do not like. Saying "well, we're all sinners" doesn't give me all that much of a warm feeling towards others, even when I'm acknowledging that I'm no better than they are. I think that many of us respond better to encouragement rather than to being put down---even when it's a collective put-down of "us."

But evil should not be swept under the rug, either. It should be addressed.

Alan Segal

I learned from James McGrath's site that Alan Segal has passed on. I had Professor Segal for a seminar when I was a student at Jewish Theological Seminary. It was on the history of interpretation of the akedah---the binding of Isaac---and it was co-facilitated by David Carr from Union Theological Seminary. It was a rather intimidating class, since it had a number of Columbia students, at both the undergraduate and the graduate level. Actually, being in that seminar was a suitable precursor for a Ph.D. program, since it entailed being around articulate walking encyclopedias!

But, back to my topic, I enjoyed learning from Professor Segal, whether he was talking about the Bible, or his experience with pop culture. If I recall correctly, he was an adviser for the Gospel of John movie---which starred the guy who played Desmond on LOST, before he became Desmond on LOST. In the Gospel of John, Desmond played Jesus. Professor Segal talked about meeting actors and actresses in his experience with that project, plus he showed us some excerpts from the movie.

As far as his scholarly works are concerned, I've read huge chunks of Two Powers in Heaven. I needed to do that for my rabbinics comp, since the "two powers" concept appears in rabbinic literature. I also read pieces of Paul the Convert---I especially remember his acknowledgments, where he said that writing a book is often a community project.

I didn't interact with Alan Segal long, nor did I know him as well as others writing about him did. But I'll remember his humor and his interesting perspective on biblical issues.

R.I.P. Alan Segal.

Patricia Neal

Actress Patricia Neal passed away. Her first movie was with Ronald Reagan. She was also in Face in the Crowd, alongside Andy Griffith and Walter Matthau. (One line I vaguely remember from that, from a conservative politician whom Andy Griffith was teaching to be “woodsy”: “Daniel Boone didn’t need no Social Security. All he needed was his ax!”) She was also in the movie of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, looking at Howard Roark’s bulging, individualist muscles.

But I most appreciate her from an episode of Little House on the Prairie, in which she played the dying mother of three children, whom Mr. Edwards and his wife, Grace, adopted. Sawyer watched that particular episode on an episode of Lost this last season, in the flash sideways.

R.I.P., Patricia Neal.

Staci's Take on LOST

This is a good post on LOST because it addresses what the light was and why the Dharma Initiative wanted to study it. I wish it had gone into more detail about why the characters did what they did in the flash sideways, and how that was significant to the overall plot. But I’m understanding LOST by drawing from different sources.

Here it is: My Take On LOST.

God Uses (Not Causes) Tragedies; Rich (Bummer!); Long Impression; Rabbinic Cessationism; Blowing Off Steam; Noth on DtrH; Good LOST Articles

1. William P. Young, The Shack, page 185:

"Mack, just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn't mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don't ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes...Grace doesn't depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors."

2. Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land, page 273:

"...Captain, you obviously don't know what an Old Man of the Sea great wealth is. It is not a fat purse and time to spend it. Its owner finds himself beset on every side, at every hour, by persistent pleaders, like beggars in Bombay, each demanding that he invest or give away part of his wealth. He becomes suspicious of honest friendship---indeed honest friendship is rarely offered him; those who could have been his friends are too fastidious to be jostled by beggars, too proud to be mistaken for one..."

That reminds me of an episode of Highway to Heaven that I watched today, "Lucky Man", which is from Season 3 (which I finally got for a low price off of Amazon, after waiting for years!). Mark wins five million dollars at a burger joint, and he wants to give it all to build a new gymnasium for at-risk youths. But some swindlers on the run from creditors are trying to get his money. One is a beautiful woman, who's posing as a wealthy socialite. She pretends to be deeply in love with Mark, so she can marry and then divorce him, taking his money.

For me, the lesson of this episode is how some of us can allow our fantasies to blind us. Mark thought that his dreams were coming true---that a beautiful woman was falling in love with him. But they weren't. Far from it.

3. Terence Collins, The Mantel of Elijah, page 147.

Isaiah 20 says that King Sargon of Assyrian captured the Philistine city of Ashdod. This occurred in 711 B.C.E., when Sargon punished Ashdod for rebellion and the its encouragement of other kings to rebel. The chapter then goes on to say that Isaiah is to walk around naked and barefoot for three years, as a sign that Assyria will take Egyptians and Ethiopians captive. That should teach the Israelites not to trust in Egypt for deliverance, when they should be looking to God!

Collins doesn't think that certain things add up. He points out that the Assyrians invaded Egypt forty years later. He also wonders why Ashdod is even mentioned, and he says that the warning to Israel not to trust Egypt would make most sense in 701 B.C.E., "when Sennacherib easily repulsed an Egyptian attempt to intervene" (Isaiah 37:9). Collins maintains that elements of Isaiah 20 have undergone revision, as older oracles were applied to new situations. And he contends that Jeremiah 37:11 applies Isaiah's prophecy against Egypt to his own day, when Egyptian intervention didn't help the Judahites during the invasion of their nation by the Babylonians.

I don't entirely understand Collins' point. Couldn't a prophet point to the Assyrian defeat of Ashdod to argue that human attempts to fight Assyria will come to naught, which is why the Judahites were going the path of futility in trusting Egypt for deliverance? Sure, Egyptian assistance would come to naught ten years later, and the Assyrians would invade Egypt forty years later. But couldn't the prophet have foreseen these events when the Assyrians defeated Ashdod?

How much is Collins motivated by naturalism in this case---naturalism here being the view that a prophet can't predict the future? Why would the prophet need to see Egypt getting pounced to predict it, whether there's a God giving him the message or not? Remember that there are scholars who have made the case that prophets got some things wrong when it came to Egypt: Jeremiah and Ezekiel said that Babylon would conquer Egypt, which didn't happen (or so scholars contend). Why are the prophecies that come true dismissed as current events written into the past, whereas prophecies that aren't fulfilled are just, well, prophecies that aren't fulfilled?

Collins may have a point in the area of timeliness, however. Why did Isaiah walk naked for three years, communicating a prophecy that wouldn't happen until forty years later? Did he expect the Israelites to remember his walk of nakedness about forty years before, once they saw Egypt get pounced? Well, maybe Isaiah walking naked would leave an impression on them!

4. Alberdina Houtmann, Mishnah and Tosefta, page 74:

In T 6.7b, there is again a sudden shift to a new subject, vain prayer. According to this tradition, it is vain to pray for a miraculous multiplication of produce.

But Elijah and Jesus multiplied food! Well, the rabbis didn't believe in Jesus. And were they cessationists when it came to the sorts of miracles that were performed in the Hebrew Bible? There are indications of such---statements that prophecy ceased at a certain point in time, or the view that Israel doing the right thing without seeing a miracle was a sign of her maturity. But I can't be absolute on this and claim that the rabbis denied the existence of miracles. Maybe they just believed that they were improbable, so why be frivolous by praying for certain ones? Ordinarily, God didn't multiply produce!

5. John Van Seters, "Prophetic Orality in the Context of the Ancient Near East”, in Writings and Speech in Israelites and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy, page 84.

Crenshaw seems to place his emphasis on the oral nature of both delivery and transmission, based on the limits of literacy in ancient Israel. Davies argues that prophecy as a whole is a literary activity regardless of biblical suggestions to the contrary. Cullen focuses primarily on performance and its relationship to audience.

This is a summary of what came before in the book, which I appreciate. But Davies had some jewels. He acted as if some of the scribes were writing prophecies against social injustice and foreign nations in order to blow off steam, while attributing the prophecies to ancient prophets!

6. Martin Noth, "The Central Theological Ideas", in Reconsidering Israel and Judah.

Noth dates the Deuteronomistic History (DtrH)---Joshua-Kings---to the exile. He notes that DtrH doesn't talk much about sacrifice, preferring instead to focus on prayer. For Noth, that would make sense in the exile, when all Israel had was prayer, since she was without a temple! And Noth also doesn't think that DtrH believed that the Jews would be restored, for it doesn't mention that possibility. So is Noth saying that they would continue to worship God without hope? Or that maybe they can continue to hope, but redemption isn't likely, considering how bad they were?

Here's another interesting point that Noth made: DtrH believed that Israel should only sacrifice to God in the central sanctuary, Jerusalem. But there are exceptions to that. For example, Elijah sacrifices to God on Mount Carmel. According to Noth, DtrH believes this is acceptable because a true prophet is conducting the sacrifice.

7. Here are some good links on the finale for LOST, which I'm posting here for my access.

'Lost' finale recap, part one: And In The End... | Totally 'Lost ...

'Lost' finale recap, part two: Step into the light

I like these articles for two reasons: (1.) The first one connects Jacob's mission to keep the Man in Black on the island, with his mission to protect the island's light, which upholds the world. To get off the island, the Man in Black needs to destroy it. The island is keeping the Man in Black from leaving---as long as the Man in Black is the Smoke Monster. To leave the island, the Man in Black needs to become a mere mortal, which occurs only when he destroys the island. And how do you destroy the island? You turn off its light, which upholds the world. And so the Man in Black leaving the island would coincide with the island's light going out, and that would bring hell and destruction to the world. (2.) The second article explained the significance of Jack's flash sideways: Jack healed from his daddy issues by becoming a good father himself. And I guess it also explained Ben's flash sideways: Ben had evolved to the point of doing the right thing, which was good for Ben. I wish the article similarly explained the significance of the other characters' flash sideways.

Free Will Defense; Small; Astronomical Metaphor; Computer Rabbis; Living Traditions; God, not Pharaoh; LOST Fatigue

1. William P. Young, The Shack, page 164:

Mack asks an angel (or whatever she is) why God didn’t stop the murder of his daughter, Missy. The angel responds:

“[God] doesn’t stop a lot of things that cause him pain. Your world is severely broken. You demanded your independence, and now you are angry with the one who loved you enough to give it to you. Nothing is as it should be, as Papa desires it to be, and as it will be one day. Right now your world is lost in darkness and chaos, and horrible things happen to those that he is especially fond of.”

This is the free-will defense. To me, it sounds like a cop-out. But I wouldn’t dismiss it completely. And, if I were a victim of an evil person’s free-will, I may use that defense to try to hold on to my faith.

2. Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land, page 252:

Jubal had considered having Mike remain seated while Douglas came in, but had rejected the idea; he was not trying to place Mike a notch higher than Douglas but merely to establish that the meeting was between equals.

This reminds me of one of my thesis defenses. My chair was lower than that of the professors interrogating me! Or so I remember. I did feel small during that ordeal!

3. Raphael Loewe, “The Medieval History of the Latin Vulgate”, Cambridge History of the Bible, volume 2, pages 153-154:

It may be helpful to visualize the history of the Latin bible with the help of a sustained astronomical metaphor, Hebrew and Jewish monotheism being pictured as the center of a solar system. Around it moves a planet, the Hebrew bible, possessing its own moon, the Greek translation. Under the impact of Jesus and Paul the central object erupted, to throw off Christianity as a second planet, charged with sufficient energy to generate its own atmosphere of patristic tradition, and possessed of sufficient gravitational pull to attract the Greek bible—the ‘moon’ of the Hebrew bible—into orbit round itself. Christianity also acquired a second satellite in the shape of the Latin bible, compounded as it were out of the interplanetary dust of the Latin-speaking world. The Latin bible—which, down to at least the age of Charlemagne, often amounted for practical purposes to the Gospels, with perhaps the Pauline epistles and the Psalms—has from time to time been exposed to the gravitational pull of other objects that form part of the cluster that includes Judaism, Christianity, Greek philosophy and European humanism; and the outcome has been sundry attempts at improving its language by Roman classicism or by Hebraic realism in diction. Yet the patristic tradition that had nurtured the specialized vocabulary of early Latin Christianity has enveloped the Latin bible with an air that Christians could breathe: so that waves of hebraization, or of classicism, that have affected the atmosphere of the Church have given it but a transient negative charge. Thus it has come about that the Vulgate has always been held fast to its own orbit, whereas some of its own vernacular and other satellites have been captured, especially in the countries of the Reformation, by the gravitational pull of the original Hebrew of the Old Testament, and the Greek of the New.

I usually try to post paragraphs that summarize a piece, for my own benefit, even if the summary contains astronomical metaphors that confuse me near the end.

4. Alberdina Houtmann, Mishnah and Tosefta, page 51:

From Abot de Rabbi Nathan:

…Rabbi Aqiba he [Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi] called ‘A well-stocked storehouse’. To what might Rabbi Aqiba be likened? To a labourer who took his basket and went forth. When he found wheat he put some in the basket; when he found barley, he put that in; spelt, he put that in; lentils, he put them in. Upon returning home he sorted out the wheat by itself, the barley by itself, the beans by themselves, the lentils by themselves. This is how Rabbi Aqiba acted, and he arranged the whole Torah in rings. Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah he called a ‘spice-peddler’s basket’. For to what might Rabbi Eleazar be likened? To a spice peddler who takes up his basket and comes into a city; when the people of the city come up and ask him: “Have you good oil with you? Have you ointment with you? Have you balsam with you?” they find he has everything with him. Such was Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah when scholars came to him…

Houtmann ties this to computers, which he is somehow bringing into his work. But is the point of this passage that these rabbis were always ready to give an answer?

5. Robert Culley, “Orality and Writtenness in the Prophetic Texts”, in Writings and Speech in Israelites and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy, page 55:

From Werner Kelber:

In the end I venture the suggestion that the gospel composition is unthinkable without the notion of cultural memory which serves ultimately not the preservation of remembrances per se but the preservation of the group, its social identity and self image.

This could explain why Gospels felt free to expand upon or clarify their sources—the Gospel of Mark, Q (if you believe in Q): their agenda concerned the identity of their community, which is what the Gospels were addressing, not so much the “preservation of remembrances”. Yet, Luke says in Luke 1 that he composed an orderly account of what Jesus did and teach, so I wouldn’t rule out the Gospel authors’ concern for historicity. But they were trying to apply that history to the situation of their community, so the Gospels may not be a mere transcript of past events. Rather, they’re applying the past to the present, by adding clarification to their sources. And there are scholars who maintain that some of this “clarification” may be rooted in the ideology of the Gospel author and/or his community.

6. From James Sanders’ review of Brevard Childs’ commentary, The Book of Exodus:

The signs, constantly rejected, were God’s judgment on Egypt, such judgment that Pharoah would not listen (p. 153). Even so, one fails to find in Childs the next, obvious statement of the whole: Pharaoh shall not share in the freeing of God’s people. (Compare the case of Cyrus and the problems which arose from that.) One feels that, if Childs had probed even more deeply, canonically, into Exod 10:12; 11:10; 1 Sam 6:6; 1 Kings 22; Isaiah 6 and 28-29 (cf. Rom 9:1-10:16), he would have seen the further point that if God had not hardened Pharaoh’s heart there would have been no Torah, in the full sense. The slaves would have been grateful to Pharaoh’s “emancipation” of them and not to God. All of these instances of God’s hardening the heart testify to a basic and intrinsic shape of the Bible: canonically the Bible is a monotheizing literature.

This is an interesting take on why God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. It reminds me of the Ten Commandments: Moses could have played his cards right and become Pharaoh, after which he’d treat the Hebrew slaves kindly or free them. But then the Hebrews would praise Moses, not God. They were already saying that they didn’t need the deliverer because they had Moses. And they called the Sabbath “the day of Moses”. There was Mosesolatry going on here! If the Pharaoh’s heart had not been hardened, would the Israelites have been grateful to the Pharaoh for delivering them, rather than to God? God didn’t take that chance.

7. I’m suffering from LOST fatigue! I wish that I were more inspired by the last episode, and that things were clearer, while simultaneously maintaining a sense of depth. Instead, things are unclear, which was why I spent last night and this morning doing what I did throughout the series: theorizing about LOST! That can build community, but I feel so incomplete. A final episode is supposed to give a sense of completion, right? But I don’t feel that.

I’m not in the mood right now to re-watch LOST episodes, since LOST brings things up that later are not addressed. And I’m not just talking about polar bears and what not: LOST killed off the Man in Black too early in last night’s episode, in my opinion! And we didn’t hear much about the debate on human nature (good or evil?). Plus, the episode took the easy way out by sending the main characters to heaven.

I wish that I knew how the flash sideways functioned as a purgatory. Why did we have to watch the characters’ stories in the flash sideways? Was it to get to know the characters better—which was what LOST chose to emphasize? I won’t rule out that there are answers, but I’ll wait until they are in an accessible place. I’m not sure I’m in the mood right now to plough through comments on blog posts for that jewel that answers my question, as insightful as those comments might be.

I may watch the entire series again in the future. There are movies and episodes of shows that I disliked the first time I saw them, but I appreciated them more in my subsequent viewings. That may be true with LOST. But, right now, I have LOST fatigue. And yet, I feel empty because there are no new LOST episodes for me to watch on Tuesday nights!

Was Jacob Wrong?

Here are some more thoughts about LOST. Maybe Jacob was wrong when he believed that the light on the island was necessary to sustain the earth and the people on it. He was wrong about other things. At one point, he believed his mother, who said that the people on the island were the only people in existence. But he changed his mind on that, when he learned differently.

Perhaps Jacob was like Desmond, who, in season 2, continually typed in those numbers, believing that he was saving the world. But, if I'm not mistaken, Desmond was not actually saving the world. He was trying to contain the island's electromagnetic properties. When he failed to type in the numbers, the entire world did not collapse, but electromagnetic energy was released, which brought down the plane.

It's interesting that, in the parallel universe, the island was sunk, and yet life went on just fine. I'm beginning to doubt that the "flash sideways" itself was a timeless universe. Rather, I think it was a stepping stone that God used to get the island survivors to that timeless universe, which included the church at the end of the episode.

What about some of the mysteries of the island, such as the fact that many of the women could not have children there? There are different possible explanations for that. Maybe it had to do with the island's properties. A blurb on the Pilot said that Locke and Rose were cured by the island's electromagnetism. Perhaps that electromagnetism kept women from having children. But what about the women who did successfully have children on the island? Well, there aren't necessarily absolute rules. Locke and Rose were healed by the island's properties, but Ben Linus was not---when it came to his brain tumor.

Or perhaps women couldn't have children on the island due to the guardian, or the smoke monster. The mother of Jacob and the Man in Black didn't like humans on the island, so she could have limited their ability to reproduce there. Or the Man in Black didn't want there to be more possible candidates to take Jacob's place.

I thought the finale would give more attention to the question of whether or not humans are inherently good or evil. But that was Jacob's baby---it was his project to prove that humans could progress, against the smoke monster, who believed them to be corrupt. That's why Jacob brought people to the island. One did not have to have that project to be the guardian of the island, since Jacob's mother did not want humans there, and viewed them as corrupt. But it was Jacob's project, and it was significant in that it provided a context for the characters of LOST to grow, which was what was important.

And yet, to contradict myself, didn't the island bring people to it, since there were people there even before Jacob was born, grew up, and started bringing people to the island himself?

So we have a weird island. We have Jacob, who may think his mission is greater than it really is. And we have his little debate with the Man in Black about the nature of humanity, which God still uses to build character in the island's inhabitants.

The light. I'm not sure entirely what that is. People come to the island to use it, apparently. I think that is why there is interest in the island, and why Widmore and Ben were continually fighting for control. Maybe one of them, or both of them, wanted to exploit the light for some purpose. But the light was necessary for the island to survive, so perhaps the island itself saw its need for a protector, and the island somehow conveyed to the protector that the existence of the entire universe depended on that light (which was an exaggeration). The protector was conned, as Desmond was, when he pushed those buttons, thinking he was saving the world. And the departed souls on the island (i.e., Richard's wife) also believed that the fate of the universe depended on the light. But, as I said, the parallel universe did perfectly well without the light, or the island.

One more point: I like something James McGrath said in the comments section under "LOST Places In The Heart: Making sense of LOST now that it is over (SPOILERS!)": maybe Ben didn't go into the church because he hadn't yet formed meaningful relationships, and he wanted to do so in the parallel universe. Ben felt that he wouldn't fit in, yet there was still time and space for his redemption.

Purgatory Is Created; Christian Shepard Is Virgil

Okay, here’s my LOST theory, before I go to bed!

The nuclear blast that Juliet caused created a sort of purgatory—a transition to the afterlife. This purgatory is what we have known as the “flash sideways” for this season. Whereas the real world is sustained by the light on the island, which is also where evil is contained, purgatory does not need to be sustained by the island. Rather, purgatory is sustained by God. That’s how the “flash sideways” universe exists, even though the island is at the bottom of the ocean in that reality. God chose to make an alternate reality—the reality created by the bomb going off—into a purgatory for the main characters on LOST.

Christian Shepard. Maybe Christian Shepard on the island was really the Smoke Monster, as the Smoke Monster claimed. But I don’t think that this was always the case. First of all, Christian Shepard was in Jacob’s cabin when he told Locke to move the island. The Smoke Monster couldn’t be in the cabin, for (as far as I know) it was surrounded by ash at that point, and ash repels the Smoke Monster. Second, in the third or fourth season, Jack sees Christian Shepard in his own apartment, after Jack had left the island. Christian said “Jack”, which was telling Jack that he needed to return to the island. In that case, Christian couldn’t be the Smoke Monster, because the Smoke Monster can’t leave the island.

So I think there are cases in which Christian Shepard is like Virgil in Dante’s Inferno: a guide through the afterlife. But Christian also appeared on the island, which was itself not the afterlife, but rather a precursor to purgatory.

I want to make something clear: I am not saying that everyone on the island was dead. The island is a part of the real world. Jacob dunked Richard Alpert into the water, to prove to him that the island was not itself the afterlife. I’m saying that the “flash sideways” was a sort of purgatory—which was a place where the main characters could be, before they could enter heaven, where they would get what they wanted. And, throughout this process, there was Christian Shepard, guiding people to do the right thing.

I hope some of what I said makes sense.

II Kings 5

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 5. Naaman is the captain of the Syrian army, and he is a leper. A little girl who was taken captive from Israel tells Naaman’s wife that he should see the prophet in Samaria, who would “gather (Hebrew root, asaph) him from his leprosy”. Naaman, ever the professional, sends a letter to the king of Israel, who is outraged because he (the king of Israel) is not God and cannot cure Naaman; the king of Israel thinks that Naaman is picking a fight with him by telling him to do something that he cannot do. But Elisha the prophet hears about all this and tells the king of Israel to send Naaman to him.

Naaman and his servants gather outside of Elisha’s house, and Elisha doesn’t even come out to greet Naaman personally. Rather, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman with Elisha’s message: go and dip in the Jordan seven times, and then you’ll become clean. Naaman is upset that Elisha didn’t come out and heal him with a lot of fanfare, and he also wonders why he has to go to the Jordan, when there are much finer rivers in Damascus, Syria. But Naaman’s servants tell him that it’s not a difficult task, so why not try it?

Naaman dips in the Jordan seven times, and his flesh becomes clean, like that of a little boy’s. He offers to pay Elisha with gold, silver, and garments, but Elisha refuses payment. Naaman says that he now realizes that the only God is in Israel, and he decides to take back with him dust from the land of Israel; he also affirms that he will sacrifice to no other God but the LORD.

With one exception. As a prominent figure, he has to take part in a civic ceremony to Rimmon, who is most likely Hadad (see Zechariah 12:11), the storm god and the head of the Syrian pantheon. Hadad could be called “Rimmon” because that word means “pomegranate”, which was a symbol of fertility in parts of the ancient world, on account of its many seeds. As the storm god, Hadad brought the rain that leads to fertility. But Hadad also had to be appeased not to send devastating rain, which could bring about destruction to the land.

In any case, Naaman said that he had to enter the house of Rimmon with the king of Syria and bow, as the king leaned on his hand. Naaman asks that God forgive him for this. And Elisha responds, “Go in peace”. We’re supposedly not supposed to ask God to forgive sins that we are about to do, but Naaman did precisely that!

Naaman is some distance away, when Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, catches up to him. Gehazi says that two prophets have just come to Elisha, and Elisha wants a talent of silver and two changes of clothing for them. Naaman happily gives Gehazi two talents. When Gehazi returns, Elisha knows what Gehazi has done. When Elisha questions Gehazi, Gehazi lies to him. And so the leprosy of Naaman was to cling to Gehazi and to his seed forever.

Here are some thoughts:

1. I’m intrigued by the use of the word asaph for the healing of Naaman’s leprosy (or whatever skin disease it was). The disease is treated as a separate entity from Naaman: he can be gathered from his leprosy, and the leprosy can be moved to somebody else, namely, Gehazi. Christian preachers and commentaries for many ages have likened Naaman’s leprosy to sin. Is sin who we truly are, or is it a separate entity that afflicts us?

I think of two things. At my hairdresser’s appointment, a practitioner of meditation said that meditation is not about us changing, but about us becoming who we truly are. And yesterday, I watched an episode of Highway to Heaven, Season 3. Ned Beatty played a television dad, Bill Cassidy, whose behavior in real life is not like his picture-perfect TV image. As he bosses people around, Mark Gordon remarks, “Boy, I like to have an airplane drop leaflets telling people what this guy’s really like.” And Jonathan replies, “Do you think that’s the real Bill Cassidy?” It turns out that it wasn’t the real him: Bill Cassidy once had love in his heart, but he became hardened and reluctant to love others after his father had passed away.

I’m not sure what the biblical stance on this is. In Genesis 4, God tells Cain that he needs to master sin, which crouches at the door. Cain can separate himself from his sin and master it, the implication appears to be. Yet, the Book of Romans presents conversion as the death of the old man, implying that sin is endemic to our old selves: it is who we are. But Romans 7 has an interesting line: when we sin, even though we don’t really want to do so, then we’re not the ones sinning: rather, the fault lies with the sin within us. And so, here, there’s a distinction between sin and the sinner.

Is sin who we are? Is it a condition? In either perspective, one can say that we aren’t responsible for the wrong that we do. “I’m a sinner by nature—what do you expect?” “I did this, but it’s not who I truly am. Sin is sinning within me!”

Some of this issue may play out on LOST: one can look at human nature and see greed and selfishness. But there is also love. There are nice things that humans do, which is why Jacob figures that they’re not all bad, that they can be improved.

2. Many of the Christians I listened to and read interpreted this chapter in light of salvation by grace through faith alone. Naaman wanted healing, but he needed to become humble. That’s why Elisha snubbed him and told him to wash in the not-so-impressive Jordan, which is comparable to the not-so-impressive crucifixion of Christ: by humbly embracing something that the world scorns (I Corinthians 1:18-29), we become healed spiritually. And Naaman offered to pay Elisha for his healing, but Elisha refused: the healing was freely given, as is salvation.

In the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, I read roughly the same thing, with some differences. Naaman’s healing in the Jordan was likened to baptism, which isn’t that surprising, since the Septuagint for v 14 says that Naaman baptized himself in the Jordan River. But Elisha’s snubbing of Naaman is explained in a variety of ways. Ephrem the Syrian (fourth century C.E.) says that Elisha was snubbing Naaman because Naaman had killed many Israelites in battle, and also because he, as an Israelite, was forbidden to touch a leper. Caesarius of Arles (fifth-sixth centuries C.E.) likens Elisha to Christ, who did not go out to the Gentiles himself to give them the message of salvation, but rather sent out his servants, the apostles, to communicate that to them.

I like to read what ancient interpreters had to say, to compare and contrast that with how today’s Christians read the Bible. What were the concerns of the ancients? How do they reflect their conceptions of God, and how’s that compare with ours?

I have a question. Let’s assume for a second the similarity between Naaman’s healing and justification by grace through faith alone. Suppose that Naaman simply received his healing and went back to his old ways. He decides not to worship the LORD, and his participation in civil Rimmon worship doesn’t affect his conscience in the least. Does the analogy with salvation break down here? There’s debate about whether Christians who live unholy lives or ditch the faith remain saved. Does healing have to result in a life-change, for that healing to be valid, or to remain?

I suppose God could have returned Naaman’s leprosy had he decided not to change his life. But Naaman didn’t want to return to his old way of doing things. He probably tried a number of things to get healed of his leprosy, and he found them wanting. When he finally obeyed a prophet of God and dipped in the Jordan, he encountered something that worked, and his conclusion was that there’s only one God, the one in Israel.

I think that’s how it is for many Christians. But there are also people who don’t think that Christianity works for them. Others talk about the positive change that has come into their lives through other paths, such as recovery programs, or meditation, or Buddhism.

And, as I read the Intervarsity Bible Background Commentary, I see that other ancient Near Eastern cultures had healing rituals. My guess is that they had to work sometimes, for people to believe in them. But they didn’t help Naaman. Only the LORD did that.

I’m not going anywhere in particular here. These are just some thoughts that I had.

3. The issue of Rimmon. Naaman’s whole dilemma reminds me of something that a couple I know used to fight about. This couple goes to a conservative Armstrongite church, which doesn’t observe Christmas, deeming it to be pagan. Is it permissible for them to go to a Christmas get-together, organized by the man’s grandmother?

The wife says that doing this acknowledges a pagan festival, so it’s wrong; the man believes that he’s not honoring Christmas or paganism in his heart when he goes to this get-together, but he’s just gathering with family.

And this is how some have tried to explain Naaman’s dilemma. When Naaman bows to Rimmon, he’s simply participating in a civic religious ritual that he can’t get out of; but he’s not worshipping Rimmon in his heart, for he believes in the LORD alone. And so God is not displeased when Naaman does this ritual.

But how far does this go? Couldn’t the early Christians have made the same claim when they were pressured to burn incense to Roman gods? “Well, I don’t really believe in them, and God knows that, so why not burn incense to them and preserve my own life?” I suppose so. But maybe there’s a time to take a stand, and a time when a stand can be futile. Perhaps the rightness or wrongness of an act depends upon where the person is. Naaman was a baby Yahwist: he just wanted to worship the LORD, not overthrow the Rimmonite religion in Syria, which would be a futile exercise indeed. But the early Christians lived in a time when they needed to testify against the corrupt world, proclaiming (in N.T. Wright’s words) that “Jesus is Lord, and Caesar isn’t”.

When I look at older commentaries, I see attempts to explain away Naaman’s actions. Medieval Jewish commentator Rashi says that Naaman bowed because the king leaned down on him, making him bow. So, for Rashi, Naaman wasn’t really honoring Rimmon. Yeah, but Naaman is still in the temple of Rimmon! If he’s not participating in the ritual in some manner, then what is he doing there?

Many preachers contend that Elisha realized he wasn’t the Holy Spirit. He didn’t approve of Naaman’s act, nor did he express disapproval. He simply told him to go in peace, and left it to the Holy Spirit to guide him from there. This is how some Christians say we should approach the issue of homosexuality (see Review: “Love is an Orientation” by Andrew Marin): rather than beating homosexuals over the head with how wrong their lifestyle is, why not simply love them, encourage them to come to God, and let God guide them from there?

These are my weekly quiet time ramblings for the week!

Authentic; Fearless; Not Fully Alone; Patriotism; Memes; Tithes; Julia in My Mind

1. Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends and Influence People, page 208:

Another word of warning. I know from experience that some men…will try to use the same psychology mechanically. They will try to boost the other man’s ego, not through genuine, real appreciation, but through flattery and insincerity. And their technique won’t work. [N]obody wants insincerity. Nobody wants flattery. Let me repeat: the principles taught in this book will work only when they come from the heart. I am not advocating a bag of tricks. I am talking about a new way of life.

In my blogs about this book, I’ve often presented it as a work that offers sound advice on how to manipulate people: to get them to like you so that they’ll do what you want. And, in a sense, the book markets itself as such: it tells you that following its principles will help you to succeed in business, for example. But, as Dale Carnegie notes in the above quote, suppose we practiced these principles while actually valuing the people we want to befriend? Suppose we saw others as people of dignity and worth, with their own needs, problems, and struggles. Then, we would be sincere when we practiced the principles, not merely trying to use others for our own elevation.

I think about seducing women. There are womanizers who are adept at pretending that they care for women in order to get them into bed. How do the women feel when they learn that they’ve been manipulated? Probably not too good, in a lot of cases (unless they were looking for a cheap fling). But suppose a man acted as if he cared for her, and truly did care for her? What if her fantasy were a reality? That would be beautiful.

Personally, I have difficulty coming across as if I sincerely value other people. If I don’t like a person, then that comes through somehow. Even if I point out things to that person that I admire about him or her, they comes across as insincere, even when they’re not. But it’s better to give than to receive, I guess. I have to do good and trust that God notices, and will bless me accordingly.

2. Robert Heinlein, Sixth Column, pages 184-185:

The Prince Royal watched with great interest as Ardmore approached him. The man walked without fear. And, the Prince was forced to admit, the man had a certain dignity about him, for a barbarian.

The absence of fear is something that most people admire. Women are often attracted to confidence, even though they may also sigh at such things as sensitivity and vulnerability.

I think of an episode in this season of Lost. The Smoke Monster comes to a drunken Sawyer in the form of John Locke, and Sawyer picks up that something is not quite right. “Who are you, because you sure as hell ain’t John Locke!”, Sawyer says. The Smoke Monster asks Sawyer why he thinks that, and Sawyer responds: “Because John Locke had fear, even when he was pretending that he didn’t.”

I’d be afraid to be around Sawyer, if he could sniff the fear that I was trying to hide! I’ve been told that all sorts of people can sniff fear: beautiful women, unruly kids, CEOs. But, if you’re trying to hide your fear and they can sniff it anyway, is there any hope? For me, fear is always there. It’s just a part of me! I feel a little better, though, when I hear about successful people who admit that they have fear, yet somehow rise above it, or cope with it.

3. Erhard Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part I with an Introduction to Cultic Poetry, pages 52-53:

When attached to an individual complain psalm, the blessing is evidence that the suffering individual was not alone but rather in the midst of a group of worshipers while praying for recovery and well-being…

The outlawed, suffering, and depressed person easily feels persecuted by hostile crowds…The social group, which should protect its members, may become wary of him (see Psalms 4 and 55), so enemies may arise from one’s own environment (…”Suspicion of sorcery and poisoning tactics within the village runs high at times”…). The enemies may also include hostile groups or even demonic powers…(…against the one-sided view of Birkeland, who declares every single enemy in the book of Psalms to be a foreign intruder).

I often feel alone in groups, in the sense that I don’t think that others like me. But, even then, there’s a sense in which I don’t feel alone. When I’m at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, I’m around people who (like me) are crazy: they have fears and resentments and worries and shyness. Yet, we all look to a higher power to restore us to sanity. The same goes for some churches that I’ve attended. When I’m at a charismatic church and a woman is praising God with tears in her eyes, I feel a connection to her: like me, she’s a vulnerable soul approaching the throne of grace.

Gerstengerger’s reference to “demonic powers” stood out to me because, for a time, that’s how I read the psalms in which the Psalmist asks God to deliver him from enemies who seek to do him harm. I read them in light of spiritual enemies—Satan, sin, the flesh, the world—since there was nobody who was literally trying to kill me.

4. R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship, page 249:

Although an indefatigable traveller through the whole Greek world (not beyond it) Polemo did not lack a sense of local patriotism…

My Internet connection was down yesterday afternoon, so I watched an episode from the first season of Brothers and Sisters. Justin Walker has enlisted to go to Afghanistan shortly after 9/11, and his mother, Nora, expresses concern that he’s allowing himself to be caught up in some “nationalistic fervor” that will put his life at risk. I somewhat appreciated Nora’s statement, for, shortly after September 11, I too was disturbed by the group-think that was pervading the atmosphere around me.

Do I love my country? I certainly admire the men who founded it, who placed their lives on the line in a risky move to create a free and independent nation. I like how our nation has grown over the years: we once allowed slavery and racial segregation, but we came to realize that such institutions ran counter to the principles that we proclaimed. In a sense, we are a beacon of light for other nations, which look to us for deliverance from evil and oppression. And we have certain freedoms here—freedom of speech, of religion, of privacy—which many other countries cannot take for granted. Plus, we’re prosperous.

But I can’t say that we’re perfect. There are times when we stomp on other nations in pursuit of our own self-interest (or that of elites). Our health care system is broken, as care is too costly for a number of Americans. Some people fall through the cracks of our economic system. There are other countries where people can freely speak and practice their religion, and they don’t have these kinds of problems, at least not at the level that we do. Why are we better than them? Because we’re America, and I’m just supposed to take for granted that America is the best country in the world?

I’m not sure if I buy into the sappy patriotism that I used to embrace. But I should probably see my country as similar to all people and institutions: it’s a mixture of good and bad.

5. Hans Jonas, The Gnostic Religion, pages 15-16:

…after the overthrow of Babylon by the Persians the Old-Babylonian religion ceased to be a state-cult attached to the political center and bound up with its functions of rule…Both support and restriction fell away with the loss of statehood. The release of the religion from a political function was an uprooting comparable to the territorial uprooting of Israel. The fate of subjection and political impotence in the Persian Empire forced the Babylonian religion to stand henceforth on its spiritual content alone. No longer connected with the institutions of a local power-system and enjoying the prestige of its authority, it was thrown back upon its inherent theological qualities, which had to be formulated as such if they were to hold their own against other religious systems which had similarly been set afloat and were now competing for the minds of men. [T]he older cult was transformed into an abstract doctrine, the reasoned system of astrology, which simply by the appeal of its thought-content, presented in Greek form, became a powerful force in the Hellenistic world of ideas.

This reminds me of something that atheist Richard Dawkins discusses in The God Delusion: memes. Ideas in religion that help people cope and survive remain in that religion, and are perpetuated; ideas that fail to do this die.

On Netflix, I was watching the film for Christian apologist Lee Strobel’s The Case for Faith. Although I was rolling my eyes through all the predictable drivel that apologists consider a “case”, I actually liked something that Lee said. Lee referred to skeptic Bertrand Russell, who declared that anyone who sits at the bedside of a dying child will disavow the existence of a loving God. Lee asked what an atheist would say at the bedside of a dying child. “Oh well, that’s the way life is”? His point was that Christianity at least offers hope.

Sure, if the child is a Christian; otherwise, Christianity says she’s going to hell—unless it believes in an age of accountability, and, even then, her parents would go to hell if they’re not Christians, which negates any notion that there will be a great reunion in heaven of people and their families. Sure there will be, if they’re all Christians! But I appreciated Lee’s point that an atheistic viewpoint doesn’t offer a great deal of hope. That’s why I respect skeptics, such as Ken Pulliam, who look at life and realistically assess that religion will be with us for a very long time. It offers us hope and the ability to cope with life, and that has assisted us in our survival up to this point.

But I do wonder if Christianity will remain the same, or if it will change. Liberal John Shelby Spong wrote a book a while back, entitled Why Christianity Must Change or Die. He made a good point when he referred to the intellectual challenges to Christianity, but I think he’s reaching if he holds that his non-theistic version will appeal to people and meet their needs. Sure, rich intellectuals may like it, but I doubt it will be popular.

Yet, there are things about Christianity that turn off a lot of people. Some of it’s connected with what the Bible says. Some of it is not. Will Christianity change? And, if it ends up disavowing certain things in the Bible, will it do so while pretending to be true to the Bible?

6. Richard Sarason, A History of the Mishnaic Law of Agriculture: A Study of Tractate Demai, page 46:

Since the produce was purchased abroad, we assume it to have been grown abroad. It therefore is exempt from tithing…

Yet, the Israelites outside of the land of Israel tithed in some capacity. See The Mishnah: Tithes from Ammon and Moab.

7. Do you admire certain celebrities? Do their talents appeal to you, or have you gained wisdom and inspiration from their life stories? Suppose those celebrities didn’t like you.

That’s a question I’ve asked myself whenever I watch television or read an author I enjoy, but it was brought to the forefront of my mind as I watched the movie, Julie and Julia.

Julia Childs was a famous television chef. Years after Julia Childs’ heyday, Julie Powell decided to blog through Julia Childs’ recipe book. Julie achieved success as a blogger and a writer. She thought the world of Julia Childs, and she imagined Julia Childs speaking to her as she followed her recipes. But, sad to say, Julia Childs did not like her. Julia never met Julie, but she knew about her well-publicized blog, and she didn’t appreciate what Julie was doing. She thought that Julie’s project was trivial, and Julie’s occasional four-letter word did not endear her to Julia.

In a profound scene on the movie, Julie is really heart-broken to learn that Julia Childs does not like her. Julie believes that Julia Childs is perfect, and so the fault must be hers (Julie’s). But her husband, Eric, tells her that the Julia in her mind is perfect. I thought his point would be that we shouldn’t idealize people, but that’s not what he went on to say. Rather, Eric told his wife that the Julia in her mind was the only Julia that mattered, and that, if Julia didn’t understand what Julie was doing, then that’s not something that Julie should fret about.

I’m still trying to unpack this scene, for it’s probably much deeper than I presently realize. Julie and Julia were both alike in a lot of ways: they dealt with struggles and failure and, eventually, success. And yet, Julia did not like Julie, for she didn’t understand what Julie was doing. One lesson may be that we can admire people, even if they don’t like us. We all share the common experience of humanity, and, yet, for a variety of reasons, certain people don’t click: due to differences in temperament or culture, or misunderstandings. But what’s important is the Julia in our minds: what we admire about a person that inspires us to be better and to get through the day.

Ten Commandments (2006): Egyptian Religion, Revelation of the Torah

I just watched the 2006 movie, The Ten Commandments, starring (among others) Dougray Scott, Naveen Andrews (Sayid from Lost), and Omar Shariff. In this post, I want to discuss two issues:

1. The movie made certain claims about Egyptian religion. First, we have a priest telling little Moses that there are as many gods as there are people, and that they had no origin, for they’re part of the nature of things. The priest is actually baffled when Moses asks him who made the gods.

Second, a priest tells little Moses that Pharaoh Akhenaten did not believe that the Egyptians had their own gods while other peoples had theirs. Rather, according to the priest, Akhenaten held that there is only one God.

Third, when little Moses sees the tomb of Joseph, he asks the Israelites if that is their god. An old Israelite replies that they do not worship corpses, unlike the Egyptians.

Fourth, somewhere in the movie, the Egyptians boast that they can actually see their gods (as idols), whereas the Israelites could not.

Edward F. Wente has an article in The Anchor Bible Dictionary on “Egyptian Religion.” I will consult that (and other articles) to evaluate these claims about ancient Egyptian religion.

First of all, did the Egyptians believe that the gods eternally existed as part of the nature of things, meaning that they were not created? The answer to that is “no.” Wente states the following:

The Egyptians organized their deities hierarchically, with the creator assuming the role of king of the gods. According to the Heliopolitan, or solar, version of creation, the Sun God emerged on the primal mound from Nūn, the abyss, and by masturbation or spewing forth created the first pair of deities, Shu and Tefnut (air and moisture). In turn this couple produced Geb and Nūt (earth and sky), from whom issued two pairs of deities, Osiris and Isis, and Seth and Nephthys, whose natures were less elemental and more political-cultural. At Memphis the role of creator was assigned to Ptah, and a spiritual mode of creation by thought (heart) and word (tongue) was stressed. A further elaboration of the solar version was developed at Hermopolis, where attention was given to four pairs of primordial elements that, lying dormant in Nūn, were activated in the production of the Sun God, who emerged on a lotus.

So, according to Wente, the Egyptians believed that a god emerged and created other gods, some of whom were associated with nature.

Second, did Pharaoh Akhenaten believe in the existence of only one God? In the course of my studies, I have heard that there is debate on that: some say “yes,” while others maintain that Akhenaten acknowledged the existence of other deities, but wanted Egypt to worship only the sun god. Donald Redford’s Anchor Bible Dictionary article on “Akhenaten” goes with the former point of view. Here are some passages from Redford’s article:

That the predilection for one god constituted something more than mere henotheism is strongly suggested in an early “speech from the throne” in which Akhenaten introduces his god to the court. Therein he describes his celestial deity in terms of uniqueness, transcendence, and permanence that were to become common throughout the reign, while at the same time accusing the gods of having “ceased one after the other” (Redford 1981).

The Hymn to the Sun-disc (Auffret 1981; Bernhardt 1969; AEL, 96–107; von Nordheim 1979), echoes of which seem later to be heard in Psalm 104, describe the solar deity as the creator and sustainer of the universe, the guarantor of life and the eternal hypostasis of pharaonic monarchy in the heavens. In the latter capacity the deity is granted the double cartouche, hailed in royal terms, and conceived in art as the mirror image in the heavens of king Akhenaten upon earth. Pursuant to his iconoclastic urges, Akhenaten rid the cult of images of deity as well as mythology, and even the decorative arts and the script were purified of anthropomorphic and theriomorphic elements (Redford 1984: 173ff.). The great Hope of all Egyptians, the multifarious world of the Beyond, the Underworld over which Osiris and his congeners presided, was done away with; and although outward forms, such as shawabtis, mortuary texts, and sun hymns were retained, they were expurgated of all allusions to the Underworld (Assmann 1972; Redford 1980; Redford 1984: 169ff.).

I don’t understand the part about the gods ceasing one after another. Was Akhenaten saying that the gods were dying off, or that he was about to get rid of them, or what? I found an article on the Internet, Akhenaten: A Brief Biography, which contains a translation of Akhenaten’s court speech. The author of the article interprets it as follows: However, we can surmise from what exists of [the text] that the king was claiming that the gods in the traditional Egyptian pantheon were nothing but material representations which could be destroyed...However, the god that he promoted (indubitably the Aten, or sun-disc) was unique, untouchable, undeniable and indestructible.

Third, did the Egyptians worship corpses? Wente states the following:

One aspect of the afterlife was the simple continuation of existence in the tomb. Already in archaic times natural dehydration of the body in a shallow grave suggested the permanent existence of the deceased, but as tombs became more elaborate and natural desiccation of the corpse ceased to be effective, mummification was developed as a means of preserving the body. Initially only the king and elite had their bodies mummified, but after the Old Kingdom mummification was gradually extended. The superstructure of the tomb contained a cult place where offerings could be made to the deceased’s spirit, which was believed to emerge from below through a false door. Sometimes elaborate contracts were drawn up with mortuary priests to ensure the perpetuity of the cult. In the absence of real offerings, the recitation of an invocation offering was considered a valid means for satisfying the deceased’s needs. But there was more to the afterlife than continued existence in the tomb. In the Old Kingdom the king’s afterlife involved his spiritual participation in cosmic processes such as the course of the Sun God or the motion of the stars. At first only the dead king became identified with Osiris, lord of the netherworld; but with the collapse of the Old Kingdom, royal funerary prerogatives were gradually extended to deceased commoners, whose names were preceded by the epithet Osiris. Funerary texts that had been for the dead king’s use now became the domain of a broader segment of the population. Many new spells were composed, inscribed in the interior of coffins or, later, on rolls of papyrus, known as the Book of the Dead. Included in this funerary literature were spells effecting the deceased’s identification with some of the highest gods, such as Rē, Atum, and Horus. The myth of Osiris’s murder, the finding of his body and revivification by Isis, and the posthumous procreation of their son Horus had an especial appeal. At Abydos, the burial place of archaic kings and Osiris, cenotaphs were erected along the processional route of the god Osiris, enabling the commoner to participate in the celebration of the god’s triumph and renewal.

According to Wente, the Egyptians gave food to the deceased to satisfy their needs, yet they also held that the departed king participated in “cosmic processes such as the course of the Sun God or the motion of the stars.” Gradually, even non-royal people who died were believed to participate somehow in the activity of the gods.

Fourth, did the Egyptians equate their gods with the idols? My hunch is “no,” for they believed that a god created the cosmos and other deities, before there even were human-made images. But they did view the idols as a sign of the gods’ presence on earth, which guaranteed prosperity. As Wente states: The purpose of the ritual was to ensure the god’s continued presence on earth, thus guaranteeing the bounty of the land and success in state endeavors, both at home and abroad. Tutankhamen’s (Amemophis IV) restoration inscription claims that, under Akhenaten, when the cult images were destroyed, neither gods nor goddesses could respond to people’s prayers and even the army could achieve no success abroad.

Also, there was an Egyptian belief that gods could appear to people in dreams as cultic images. So, in a sense, the idols were like a temple for the gods—how the gods ate and received honor and prayers. My hunch is that the Egyptians would be hard-pressed to relate to their gods without the idols.

2. On my WordPress blog, under my post, Divorce and Virginity in Deuteronomy 22, April proposes that Moses came up with much of the Torah himself, but God allowed the Torah to become the law of Israel so that the Israelites might learn their need for Christ’s grace and mercy. She bases her argument on Jesus’ statement that Moses allowed the Israelites to divorce their wives out of the hardness of their hearts (see Matthew 19:8), and she apparently interprets that to mean that Moses (not God) came up with the Torah’s law against divorce. Her proposal is essentially how the 2006 Ten Commandments movie depicted the origin of many laws in the Torah: the Israelites needed a law because of disputes among themselves, and Moses followed his heart: that’s why the Torah has a death penalty for murderers. But Moses comes to believe that he was wrong to rely on his heart and should have consulted God—who likes for Moses to figure out things on his own, yet is there when Moses needs him. And so Moses goes up the mountain and receives from God the Ten Commandments. It’s a little bit like Lost: Jacob wants people to figure things out on their own without him having to baby them, yet he makes a concession by appointing Richard Alpert his spokesman and intermediary.

The Moses movie with Burt Lancaster (which I will watch this Saturday) is somewhat like that as well: Moses (not God) decides to give the land to Zelophehad’s daughters, contrary to Numbers 27:6-7’s insistence that God came up with the idea.

I’m intrigued by April’s idea because it coincides somewhat with how many biblical scholars have viewed the Bible: that there are cases in the Torah in which there are diverse (even contradictory) laws on the same subject (see Fishbane on Numbers 15, Part 1), or examples in which a scribe adds his interpretation of a law to the text, or times when the Torah resembles other ancient Near Eastern laws. Was all of this spoken from the mouth of God? If so, why does the Torah seem to betray human elements, namely, different traditions, interpretation going on in the text, and reflection of culture?

But maybe God felt that the Torah was good enough for his purposes: to teach Israel discipline, to provide the necessary law and order for Israelite society, and to prepare her for Christ. There may have been different Israelite communities that had different laws, but God felt that each of their traditions could fulfill his purposes for his people; at the same time, God allowed the different traditions to become united into one book.

And, even then, who’s to say that God wasn’t providentially involved in how the Torah came to be? Maybe the Torah is a product of human interpretation, decision-making, and culture, and yet God is behind this process in some way, shape, or form. After all, the Torah itself has a “Thus saith the LORD” around about every one of its laws!