John Trumbull's Painting

I'm trying to get the hang of posting pictures. I got this from wikipedia, and it's in the public domain. It's John Trumbull's painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In the miniseries, John Adams, John Adams tells Trumbull that the painting is inaccurate, for the signers weren't all in one room signing the Declaration. Rather, they were scurrying in and out, signing it at their own convenience. Trumbull replies that the picture is symbolic, not literally true, but John Adams is not appeased.

Can I Upload Images?

I'm learning how to upload images. I made that a goal on my blog's last birthday. This is Figaro. He belongs to my Mom and her husband, Gabby. Actually, if you asked him, he'd probably say that they belong to him! Can Figaro talk? Well, he's come close to saying "Water", so who knows?

Darwinian Atmospheres

In this post, I’m going to combine my reading of Jerry Coyne’s Why Evolution Is True with some discussion of Adam McHugh’s Introverts in the Church.

In my reading today of Why Evolution Is True, Coyne discusses sexual selection. Coyne states the following on page 157:

For males, mating is cheap; for females it’s expensive. For males, a mating costs only a small dose of sperm; for females it costs much more: the production of large, nutrient-rich eggs and often a huge expenditure of energy and time. In more than 90 percent of mammal species, a male’s only investment in offspring is his sperm, for females provide all the parental care.

According to Coyne, this is why men are promiscuous, whereas women are choosy when it comes to mating. As Coynes says, “Females must make each opportunity count by choosing the best possible father to fertilize their limited number of eggs.” Coyne notes exceptions to this rule—animals that are monogamous because the males and the females look similar, or because both the mother and the father participate in raising the children. But, for Coyne, the rule still exists.

In my reading today of Adam McHugh’s Introverts in the Church, I felt rather insecure when I read the following passage on page 189:

My most disappointing worship experience took place at a large church that has quadrupled in six years, their numbers swelled by college students and twentysomethings…After getting cleared to enter, I sat down on my folding chair, where I was inundated with blaring music, flashing colored lights, floating images and rolling PowerPoint announcements on numerous screens around the room, and the loud chatter of young adults laughing and flirting.

I felt insecure while reading this because, quite frankly, I don’t know how to flirt. And I’d hate to be in a church or social setting in which I’m reminded that (or looked upon as if) I’m a freakish loser because I don’t know how to flirt. That, among other reasons, is why I shy away from social situations, and feel more comfortable in churches that are quieter, in which people are older, or married, or don’t impose on me a great deal of social interaction. In these sorts of churches, I don’t have to observe Darwinism in action—as males on the make successfully flirt with selective females, whereas I am an outsider to all of this.

I wish there were a way for me to cope with real life rather than avoiding it, though, at the same time, who’s to say that an intense Darwinian atmosphere is the only sample in the world of “real life”? Quiet places are part of “real life” too!

People have told me that I can’t grow unless I throw myself into these Darwinian atmospheres (they don’t call them that, but that’s what I now dub them). But I find that I can’t cope with them however many times I throw myself into them. It would be nice if people offered me coping strategies, rather than assuming that I’d develop into a social butterfly by going to a bunch of parties, or party-like churches.

II Kings 12

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 12. Joash has become the king of Judah, and the text states that he did what was right in the eyes of the LORD, as long as the priest Jehoiada was alive instructing him. You’d think that Joash’s righteousness was based on Jehoiada’s tutelage and good example.

But the Bible isn’t always predictable. Right after its assessment of Joash’s reign, the text goes on to discuss Joash’s attempt to repair the temple. II Chronicles 24:7 states that Queen Athaliah had broken up the house of God and used some of its holy objects for the worship of the Baalim. At the very least, the temple had suffered from neglect. And so Joash orders the priests to collect money for the repair of the temple. The money was to come from three sources: (1.) the census tax that Exodus 30:11-16 prescribes for the benefit of the sanctuary; (2.) the silver that the Israelites were to pay for their own redemption, in accordance with the law in Leviticus 27:1-8; and (3.) voluntary donations.

But, for some reason, the priests aren’t doing their job, and Joash is disappointed, as he wonders what is taking them so long. Joash’s righteousness was dependant upon Jehoiada? Then how come Joash is the one who has to light a fire under the behinds of Jehoiada and the other priests?

II Kings 12 and II Chronicles 24 are silent about why the priests were dragging their feet. But people have speculated about what the problem was. One explanation is that the priests couldn’t support the repair of the temple and themselves at the same time, and so, when Joash set up a contribution box outside of the temple, he was doing the priests a favor by absolving them of the responsibility to fund the temple’s repair from their own income. Preacher Chuck Smith’s explanation is that the priests were pocketing the donations, as if they were corrupt. But I doubt that the text is promoting that sort of view, for II Kings 12:15 stresses the honesty of those who had to pay the workers in the repair: they were so honest that Joash didn’t feel he needed to take an account of them.

Some just say that people can drag their feet: that’s what happens in bureaucracies! So maybe there isn’t a profound reason that the priests were taking so long to repair the temple. And then there’s Josephus’ explanation in Antiquities 9:161ff.: the priests didn’t want to collect contributions from the Israelites, for they feared that the Israelites wouldn’t give to them. But they had underestimated the Israelites’ sense of duty, generosity, and zeal for God, for, when Joash had a contribution box set up, the Israelites gave quite a bit!

A lot of times, even godly people can be so pre-occupied with stuff in life, that they can neglect what is truly important: their relationship with God. Haggai criticizes the Israelites returning from exile for this: they came back to the Promised Land and started building their houses and planting their fields, and yet they were neglecting the temple of God.

Also, timidity can hold us back. I can beat myself up with this concept, and I don’t want to do that, but here’s something to note: the priests were timid about asking the Israelites for money, when the Israelites were all too eager to give! It doesn’t hurt to ask. And it’s also good to give others an opportunity to serve God.

Inspiration from the West Wing, Highway to Heaven, and John Adams

My blog posts this week have been rather perfunctory, largely because I’m tired when I come home from work! But, believe it or not, I have been inspired by some things this week. Here are three things that I saw on television that inspired me:

1. Yesterday, I watched the first two episodes of The West Wing: Season 2. President Bartlett has been shot, and the members of his staff look back at how they joined his campaign.

Josh Lyman was working on the Presidential campaign of Democrat John Hoynes, who was the frontrunner in the primaries. Josh was disappointed because Hoynes didn’t have much of an agenda for the good of others: Hoynes was primarily interested in Hoynes, and Hoynes looking good. But Leo McGarry invited Josh to listen to the little-known and highly-intellectual candidate, Democratic Governor Jed Bartlett of New Hampshire. Josh was initially bored with Bartlett’s complex description of economics, but something got his attention: when Bartlett was asked why he, as a Congressman, voted against a milk program that would have helped dairy farmers, Bartlett responded, “Yeah, I really screwed you guys on that one.” But Bartlett went on to say that he voted the way that he did so that poor families could have cheaper milk, and, if the dairy farmers didn’t like that, then they should vote for somebody else. Josh then realized that Bartlett was a man who stood by principle.

Josh’s friend, Sam Seaborn, was a lawyer for the oil companies. Sam wanted to make a positive difference in the world, but he wondered if his job was the place to do so. When he tried to push his firm to purchase ships that were friendlier to the environment, his colleagues pooh-poohed his suggestion. That’s when Josh signaled to Sam through the window that Bartlett was the real thing. Sam then left his firm to join the Bartlett campaign.

Toby Ziegler was a loser. He managed all sorts of campaigns, and all of them turned out unsuccessfully. Now, he was on the Bartlett campaign.

C.J. Cregg’s job was to help Hollywood big-shots to succeed. She made over $500,000 a year doing that! But she was tired of handling petty egos and advancing bad movies. Then, Toby Ziegler came along and offered her a place in the Bartlett campaign. He told her that she would make less money than her current salary. But here was an opportunity to do something that mattered.

Bartlett was kind of a loser at that time—notwithstanding his impressive academic credentials—and he was reluctant to take advice from people he didn’t even know. But he had a heart of gold. After he won a primary, he learned that Josh Lyman’s father had passed away. Bartlett went to the airport and talked with Josh, offering to take the flight with him to keep him company, even though Bartlett had a speech to give.

I like this episode because it’s about people’s desire for a purpose. Many of the characters on these episodes were successful in their vocations, but they didn’t feel that they were accomplishing anything meaningful. This episode reminds me of the disciples leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. They had their lives and their agendas, but perhaps they didn’t feel that they were going anywhere. Jesus offered them an opportunity to do something that mattered. And he had a heart of gold!

2. I watched the Highway to Heaven: Season 2 episode, “Alone”, starring John Franklin of Children of the Corn fame. Franklin plays a developmentally-delayed boy named Arnie, who lives on the streets. Jonathan the angel and his sidekick, Mark, realize that Arnie is special, and needs special people to raise him. The people whom God wants to raise Arnie are a bitter rancher whose wife left him, and the leaving wife. Mark asks Jonathan, “Are you sure these are the right people?” And Jonathan replies, “I’m not sure, but the Boss is.” “The Boss” refers to God.

There are people who have potential, even if they make not look like it.

3. A few days ago, I watched the end of the John Adams miniseries. John Adams disowned his son, Charles, an alcoholic who lost money in bad business decisions. When Charles died, Abigail really took that hard. She remarked that Charles was never anyone’s enemy, and was the delight of her heart. That’s pretty telling. Charles may have had his faults, but he was never anyone’s enemy. He didn’t try to undermine other people. I hope that others can say that about me, whatever my faults may be.

Limited Government; My People

1. In Rolf Rendtorff’s The Old Testament: An Introduction, something on page 44 stood out to me:

The problem of relationships between Israelite and Canaanite traditions also perhaps underlies the narrative of Naboth’s vineyard. Ahab wants to buy a piece of land which the owner refuses to sell because it is the [nachalah] of his family (v. 3), i.e., the heritage assigned to it, which may not be sold (cf. Lev. 25:23f.). Jezebel argues against this from a standpoint according to which there are no restrictions to the right of the king (v. 7). She finally secures Ahab his ‘rights’ by the judicial murder of Naboth (vv. 8-16).

The IVP Bible Background Commentary says something similar:

…Israelites believed that all land was Yahweh’s land, while the Phoenicians would have seen the land as royal fiefdoms—all land was on grant from the king…Israelite kingship was designed to be less despotic than most monarchies—the king was not above the law. Jezebel [(a Phoenician)] would not have been accustomed to such niceties.

One would think that the idea of limited government originated with Israel, and was in marked contrast with her ancient Near Eastern neighbors. Even Norman Gottwald’s “peasant revolt” model for the origin of ancient Israel contains that undertone: you had these oppressive Canaanite cities, and you had these peasants who revolted against them and formed a more just, egalitarian society. These peasants became known as “Israel”.

Apologists have often argued that ancient Israel was unique, or at least better than other nations in the ancient Near East. But I wonder if other ancient Near Eastern nations also had some notion of limited government. I’m fuzzy on the details, but I remember reading in a Harvard class on ancient Near Eastern history that there were two models of kingship: one viewed the king as an underling to the gods, while the other thought that he had more power, as if the king himself had divinity. Then there’s ancient Egypt, which required a king to uphold maat, a system of order and justice. And, actually, all ancient Near Eastern nations claimed to believe in justice for the poor and the oppressed.

But I don’t want to say that there’s absolutely nothing to Rendtorff’s point, or that of the IVP Bible Background Commentary. Monarchies could be despotic. Where there are monarchies, there can easily develop the notion that a king is more special than everyone else, and has power over people’s lives and property. Samuel wasn’t getting his critique of kingship out of the clear blue sky!

2. Over the next few days, I’ll be posting my favorite quotes from Adam McHugh’s Introverts in the Church. Most of them are concentrated in one chapter. It’s the chapter that I was expecting to like least, but which I ended up liking the most. It’s the longest chapter in the book, Chapter 7, “Leading As Ourselves.”

On page 139, McHugh shares the following observation about Moses:

Amidst ravaging supernatural plagues and pyrotechnics of burning bushes and smoldering mountains, I think that the most dramatic moment in the story of Moses centers around a shift in pronouns. Throughout the story of Moses’ call, the exodus and the handing down of the law, Moses persisted in referring to the Hebrews as “your people”, God’s possession. He was distancing himself from his kinsfolk. But in Exodus 34, God showed Moses his glory, passing by him in an unprecedented theophany while Moses hid in a crevice in the mountain, his eyes sheltered from the fullness of God’s majestic holiness. Moses then prayed to the Lord: “If now I have found favor in your sight, O Lord, I pray, let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for your inheritance” (Ex 34:9). Go with us. Pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for your inheritance. Moses finally came out of hiding: he claimed his people, his true heritage and identity.

Moses’ transformation demonstrates that a deep, intimate relationship with God is not exclusive of a profound love for people. Indeed, when we behold the glory of the Lord, we claim his people as our own.

I almost missed this passage because my mind was wandering when I first read it. Fortunately, I had enough sense to go back and read it again!

This passage reminds me of the importance (for me, at least) of reading the Scriptures in community. I don’t have all of the answers by myself. Other people can notice things that I may miss. And I can even learn from people who may not have a scholarly background in the Bible. It doesn’t take a degree in Hebrew and the ancient Near East to notice that Moses calls the Israelites “your people” for quite some time, before he finally starts to refer to them as “my people”.

(Of course, this isn’t absolutely correct, since Moses’ message to the Pharaoh was “Let my people go”, and this was before Moses’ experience of God on the mountain. But, in a big-picture sense, I think that McHugh is on to something.)

I’m also reminded of the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, “The Inner Light”, which is one of my (and Wil Wheaton’s) favorite episodes from the series. In this episode, Captain Picard is transported to another man’s life. This man has a wife, and is part of a community that needs water. For a while, Captain Picard obsesses over returning to the Enterprise, which is where he belongs. But he eventually becomes a part of the community. When Picard offers a governing official suggestions on how to handle the water supply, a friend remarks to him that this was the first time that Picard acted as part of the community. At first, this community was somebody else’s people, and Picard was an outsider. Now, it was Picard’s people.

I wonder how a people can become “my people”, since there are many times when I feel like an outsider. There was a time when I tried to view evangelicals as “my people”, and I sought to arrive at this insight by spending time in prayer before God. Hopefully, I would see evangelicals as the people of God, and come to love them. Yet, while there were many evangelicals who were nice, I had a hard time conceptualizing them as “my people”. This was especially difficult for me because I was encouraged to see other Christians as my “family”. I didn’t feel particularly connected to these people, and I was supposed to see them as my family!

What’s interesting is that Moses saw the Israelites as his people, even though they could treat him horribly. They complained to him. They stoned him. Yet, Moses could somehow accept them as his people. And this occurred after his experience with God on the mountain.

Why the Lack of Evidence?; the Therapeutae

1. In Rolf Rendtorff’s The Old Testament: An Introduction, the following passage on page 38 stood out to me:

The historical reconstruction of the history of the period of the monarchy has to be based almost exclusively on the Old Testament sources. Only from the middle of the eighth century are there cross-references to and from events recorded in the sources of the Assyrian empire, which round this time rose to become the leading power in the Near East. The same is true at the end of the period of the monarchy in the Babylonian empire, which forced the Assyrians out of their position of dominance.

Both maximalists and minimalists would take issue with this statement. Probably everyone would agree that there is no explicit textual evidence prior to the eighth century B.C.E. about the Israelite monarchy. But maximalists would say that there is archaeological evidence that is consistent with the picture that the Bible presents. My memory is vague, but I read that Israelite pottery indicates that the North and the South were united at some point, until we see a difference in pottery styles between the two regions, which shows that Israel became divided. That’s what the Bible has.

Minimalists would take issue with Rendtorff’s notion that we should reconstruct the history of the Israelite monarchy from the Bible, for they don’t trust the Bible.

I wonder why God didn’t allow there to be more evidence that the Bible is historically-accurate.

2. I’m continuing my way through Charles Perrot’s French article, “The Reading of the Bible in the Hellenistic Diaspora.” Perrot refers to Philo’s descriptions of the Therapeutae, a contemplative Jewish sect in Egypt. See Therapeutae – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. The wikipedia article cites passages in Philo in which he discusses the sect’s asceticism. Yet, Philo also states that they could really praise God, imitating the Israelites who praised and worshipped God after God’s victory at the Red Sea.