Bible Question: Why Didn't Joseph Contact Jacob?

I have heard a particular Bible question three times in my life.  The question concerns the story of Joseph in the Book of Genesis.
 
You may know the story.  Jacob loved his son Joseph more than his other sons.  Jacob's other sons hated Joseph and sold Joseph to Ishmaelites, who took Joseph to Egypt.  Joseph had his highs and lows in Egypt, but he rose to a position of great power after interpreting two of the Pharaoh's dreams.  The Pharaoh put Joseph in charge of preparing for the coming famine and administering grain during the famine.

The question that I have heard is this: Why didn't Joseph contact his father Jacob after rising to power in Egypt?  Why didn't Joseph let his father know that he was still alive?  Why didn't Joseph try to see his father?  Joseph had the ability to do so.  He could have sent a letter to Jacob, or a chariot to Jacob.  Why didn't he do that?  Instead, the reunion occurred only after Joseph's brothers came to Egypt in search of grain, years after Joseph had risen to power.  And, for a while, Joseph's brothers did not even know that their long lost brother Joseph was the Egyptian official with whom they were interacting.

A. I first heard this question in an academic Bible class over a decade ago.  The professor asked it, and the question puzzled me.  I thought: "That's a good question, but it is not explicitly addressed in the biblical story, so why wrestle with a question for which there is not an answer?  Maybe that issue did not enter the biblical author's mind."  But, like I said, it's a good question, and I assumed that, if the professor asked it, then it must have an answer.  I was eager to hear what her answer was.

Her answer disappointed me, to tell you the truth.  I was expecting something deep, spiritual, and profound, or at least an answer that would highlight the character's motivations.  Instead, she answered that Joseph couldn't contact his father, because then we wouldn't have much of a story.  We wouldn't have the story of Joseph putting his brothers through highs and lows, while they were unaware of who he was.  The story would be rather boring, without much drama.  The reason was purely literary!

I figured that she was probably right, and that maybe there was not a better answer than that.  I wanted more, but I doubted that more was out there.  It still puzzled me why the professor was asking the question, for this is not the sort of question that academic scholars of the Bible ordinarily ask.  I shelved that experience in my mind, seeing it as an example of how the academic study of the Bible does not always lead to sexy conclusions.

B. Years later, I was reading Demetrius the Chronographer, a work from the third century B.C.E.  Demetrius actually asks the question of why Joseph did not contact his father, and he offers his own answer.  Demetrius states:

"But though Joseph had prospered for 9 years, he did not send for his father, because he was a shepherd, as were Joseph's brothers; and to the Egyptians it is disgraceful to be a shepherd.  That this was the reason he did not send for him, he himself had made clear.  For when his relatives came, he told them that if they should be summoned by the king and asked what their occupation was, they should say that they are breeders of cattle."  (Translation by J. Hanson, in James Charlesworth's Old Testament Pseudepigrapha)

Demetrius believes that Genesis 46:34 contains the answer for why Joseph did not contact Jacob after rising to power in Egypt.  The Egyptians regarded shepherds as an abomination, and Jacob was a shepherd.  Jacob would not fit in were he to come to Egypt.  Thus, Joseph did not contact him.

(Incidentally, Demetrius is interpreting Genesis 46:34 in an unusual manner.  The text reads, in the KJV: "That ye shall say, Thy servants' trade hath been about cattle from our youth even until now, both we, and also our fathers: that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians."  Demetrius interprets this to mean that Joseph was instructing his brothers to say that they were breeders of cattle to hide the fact that they were shepherds.  The passage probably means that they were to dwell in Goshen, away from the Egyptians, because they were shepherds, and the Egyptians regarded shepherds as an abomination.  In the very next chapter, Genesis 47, Joseph tells the Pharaoh about his brothers' flocks, and the brothers tell the Pharaoh that they are shepherds.)

C. The third time that I heard the question about why Joseph did not contact his father was last weekend.  I was watching the third lecture by Professor Gary Anderson on the story of Joseph.  Professor Anderson was one of my professors over a decade ago, and I was watching his lectures on the Joseph story on YouTube last weekend.

Professor Anderson was saying that the question of why Joseph did not contact Jacob was often asked in medieval times by Jewish interpreters, even though modern interpreters generally do not ask it.  That explained to me why my professor, the professor I mentioned earlier in this post, asked the question: it has been a common question within the History of Biblical Interpretation.  This was not just something that she was wondering about, but was a prominent question that interpreters have asked.

A student in Professor Anderson's class was offering his idea about why Joseph did not contact Jacob, and Professor Anderson affirmed that his idea was actually what medieval Jewish interpreters said.  The idea was that Joseph realized that he would disrupt his family were he to inform Jacob that he was still alive.  Joseph's brothers would get into trouble with their father, since they had sold Joseph into Egypt and then told their father that Joseph was dead.  Were Jacob to learn the truth, that would alienate him further from his sons (except Benjamin, his favorite).  Plus, Joseph did not want his father to learn the truth, until Joseph could be sure that his brothers had repented of their past behavior.  According to Professor Anderson, Joseph was putting his brothers into situations to see if they had repented: would they sell their brother Benjamin down the tubes to save their own skin, or would they actually care for somebody other than themselves, their father, even though their father loved them less than Benjamin?  To their credit, they passed the test.

All three of these ideas have merit, in their own way.  We would not have much of a story had Joseph contacted his father right after ascending to power in Egypt.  The story was actually necessary for the brothers to grow in character, and for true reconciliation to occur.  The reason that Joseph did not contact his father may have been that he realized that it was not the right time.  Demetrius may also have a point: Joseph doubted that his family would fit in at Egypt.  But this was not just because his father and brother were shepherds, but also because they worshiped the LORD alone, whereas Egypt was a pagan nation.  Joseph may have doubted that his family would like the Egyptians, and that the Egyptians would like his family.  God ensured that the Israelites came to Egypt, however, where they could be a light, and where they could be where they were supposed to be for the next stage of God's plan.

UPDATE: See also here and here, courtesy of Doug Ward.  There are other explanations.  One explanation is that Joseph did not send word to his father because Joseph wanted the dream of the sheaves to be fulfilled.  Joseph dreamed that his brothers' sheaves would bow before his sheaf (Genesis 37:7), and that was fulfilled when his brothers came to him when he was an authority in Egypt and bowed before him, seeking grain (Genesis 42:6-9).  In this interpretation, had Joseph sent word to his father, that would have disrupted the fulfillment of his dream.  This interpretation is debated, as you can see from the link.

Another explanation is that Joseph thought his father had disowned him----that Jacob's wife Leah convinced Jacob to do so, and that is why Joseph's brothers sold Joseph.  

Book Write-Up: Tractatus Logico-Theologicus, by John Warwick Montgomery

John Warwick Montgomery.  Tractatus Logico-Theologicus.  5th revised edition.  Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2013.  See here to buy the book.

John Warwick Montgomery is a Christian apologist, a Lutheran pastor, a lawyer, and a scholar.  He has earned degrees from Cornell, Berkeley, Wittenberg, the University of Essex, Cardiff, the University of Strasbourg, and the University of Chicago.

Tractatus Logico-Theologicus is a work of Christian apologetics, in that it argues that there is evidence for the Christian religion's claims, particularly the claim that Jesus rose from the dead.  Its structure is modeled on Ludwig Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, in that it consists of numbered propositions.  Although Montgomery refers to Wittgenstein's thought throughout this book, often positively, Montgomery's conclusion is different from that of Wittgenstein.  To quote the back cover of the book:

"Wittgenstein's Tractatus, having demonstrated the limits of any non-transcendental attempt to understand the world, ended with the proposition, 'Of that which one cannot speak, one must remain silent.'  Montgomery, after setting forth in depth the overwhelming case for the very transcendental revelation for which Wittgenstein longed but never found, concludes: 'Whereof one can speak, thereof one must not be silent.'"

Montgomery starts off by arguing that the religions of the world are inconsistent and incompatible with each other, and thus they cannot all be right.  He contends that all he has to do is demonstrate evidence for one religion, Christianity, and that will show that the non-Christian religions are incorrect, especially in light of Christianity's exclusivist claims.

Montgomery then has to demonstrate that facts, evidence, and logic actually matter, against skeptical claims that we cannot truly know the outside world.  This section interacts with interesting questions, such as the question of whether we need to know everything in order to have true knowledge about anything.  Montgomery also raises the possibility that logic and facts can contradict each other.  Montgomery often speaks against logical contradictions, and yet he seems to acknowledge that there may be things in reality that strike us as illogical: light, for example, is both a particle and a wave.  Later in the book, this insight will allow him to justify certain mysteries in Christian doctrine.  On epistemology, Montgomery essentially ends up saying that we need to presume that we can know the outside world, in order for us to function in life; plus, we need to start somewhere, in terms of epistemology.  Even epistemological skeptics are claiming to know things about the world, when they are arguing for skepticism.

Montgomery's argument for Jesus' resurrection will be familiar to those who have read classic Christian apologetics.  Montgomery argues that the biblical Gospels are early and contain the testimony of eyewitnesses to Jesus.  He relies on Papias and church fathers who knew the apostles to argue that the Gospels contain eyewitness testimony.  He thinks that the Gospel authors are telling the truth, since they were persecuted and would not die for a lie.  He states that the early Christians' claims received cross-examination because Christianity had opponents within the Jewish establishment in the first century, and yet none of the opponents were able to disprove or discredit what Christians said, so Christianity continued and grew.  Montgomery also maintains that the New Testament manuscripts reflect what was originally written down in the first century, and that they are closer in date to the originals than many other ancient writings are to their originals.  Montgomery criticizes those who are more skeptical about New Testament documents than they are about other ancient sources.

What may set Montgomery apart from many other Christian apologists is that Montgomery appeals to legal principles.  What counts as admissible testimony in a court of law?  How can we tell when a witness is lying?  Montgomery also notes that ancient documents can be admitted as evidence in court.  Montgomery deems the New Testament Gospels to be reliable, according to legal criteria.

Montgomery later discusses the cosmological and teleological arguments for the existence of God.  Montgomery finds these arguments useful, yet he thinks that they have limitations.  They demonstrate that someone created the cosmos, but not that this someone had to be the biblical God.  For Montgomery, Jesus' resurrection validates the truth of the Bible, which Jesus upheld.

Montgomery maintains that the Christian revelation provides meaning to life and history.  He argues, for example, that humans by themselves cannot know which facts are significant or insignificant, for they by themselves do not know where history is going: what its goal and point is.  Christianity, however, has an answer to that.

Montgomery also discusses whether one can justify morality apart from a belief in God.  Interestingly, unlike many Christian apologists, he does not utterly dismiss the possibility that one can arrive at a secular foundation for morality.  He does believe, however, that humans on their own are incapable of living up to moral principles.

Montgomery addresses a variety of questions.  For example, is the Bible God's clear revelation, when it appears to be contradictory, and many people derive contradictory conclusions from it?  Montgomery argues that the Bible is clear: one can read it and understand it as one would other books.  Montgomery holds that the Bible contains no logical contradictions: things that cannot co-exist because they are contradictory.  He also states that Christians generally are united around the basics in the Christian creeds (i.e., Nicene).

Although I had read about Montgomery's thought before, I was unaware that he was a Lutheran.  In reading this book, there were things that stood out to me as distinctly Lutheran.  For example, Montgomery does not believe that the bread and the wine of the Lord's supper are mere symbols or metaphors for Christ's body and blood.  After all, Paul tells the Corinthian Christians that some of them have become weak or sick after partaking of the bread and wine unworthily (I Corinthians 11:30), and Montgomery thinks that shows the bread and wine are more than symbols!  Montgomery also believes in directing Christians to the Word and the sacraments for assurance rather than having them agonize and struggle over their spiritual condition.  Lutherans often make this point, in arguing against Calvinism.

Here are some thoughts about Montgomery's book:

A.  The book did well to draw from Wittgenstein's thought.  Montgomery was not simply using Wittgenstein as a launchpad for his apologetic agenda, for Wittgenstein was a significant part of the book.  Montgomery argued against the widely-held conception that the later Wittgenstein was more skeptical about our ability to understand the world than the earlier Wittgenstein.  Montgomery also refers to a discussion that Wittgenstein had about universalism, the belief that everyone will be saved in the end.  Wittgenstein could understand why the church rejected universalism, for, if everyone is saved in the end, that means our decisions now do not matter.  One can argue, I think, that the doctrine that the vast bulk of humanity will go to hell because they did not accept Jesus before they died can have the same sort of effect.  (It can lead to an attitude of "Who cares what life lessons the Buddhist learned?  He didn't have the right religion, so he's going to hell!")  Still, Montgomery's references to Wittgenstein's thought was informative, as was Mongtomery's quotation of and interaction with other historical thinkers (i.e., Kant, Hegel, Rousseau, etc.).

B.  On Montgomery's discussion of legal criteria, Richard Packham's critique of Montgomery's application of legal criteria is worth reading (see here).  Packham is an atheist and a lawyer.  He contends that the New Testament documents, overall, do not successfully meet legal criteria for verification, and he seems to imply that Montgomery is being selective about which legal criteria he chooses to focus on.  For Packham, reading the New Testament documents is not similar to calling witnesses to the witness stand, or even using ancient documents in court.

C.  Montgomery often seems to dismiss alternative explanations as lacking evidence, when the alternative explanations may show that there are other ways to interpret the "evidence" he presents than his own interpretation.  Montgomery is too casual in his dismissal of evolution and the historical-critical method.  He may have a point that the historical-critical method can get rather speculative because scholars disagree about what sources are in the Bible.  Still, that does not mean that his position is the correct one, or that an inerrantist approach to Scripture lacks problems.

D.  Related to (C.), there were times when Montgomery seemed to adopt a position out of convenience.  We need to believe that we can accurately know the outside world because where would we be without that belief?  We, as Christians, need to believe that the Bible is inerrant because, otherwise, how do we know any of its claims are true?  To his credit, Montgomery often wrestled with difficult issues and was hesitant to adopt views just because they accorded with where he wanted to go.  Yet, in terms of where he ended up, he did adopt positions out of convenience, more than once.  Just because inerrancy is more convenient for Christians who want to learn God's will from the Bible, that does not mean it lacks problems.

E.  Atheists have answers to arguments that Montgomery presents.  For example, Montgomery appeals to the Second Law of Thermodynamics to argue for God's existence.  Unlike a number of creationists (who, by the way, Montgomery cites as actual authorities), Montgomery actually demonstrates more understanding of the Second Law.  He states that, "in closed systems (systems not receiving energy from an outside source), the entropic process will result in 'heat death' in a finite time, i.e., a point will be reached in a finite period when there will be no 'workable' energy any longer available" (page 125).   Montgomery states that the universe is a closed system.  Had the universe not had a beginning at some point, Montgomery argues, it would have died of "heat death" by now; plus, there has to be some energy source outside of the universe giving it energy.  For Montgomery, that source is God. (UPDATE: I think I misunderstood parts of Montgomery's argument here.  Montgomery on page 125 says that, if the universe is eternal, then there must be something outside of the universe sustaining it, otherwise it would have died of heat death by now.  Montgomery believes that the universe had a beginning, but his point is that, even were the universe eternal, God, or some transcendent source of energy, would be necessary.)

There are other considerations, though.  According to physicist Mano Singham, pockets of order can emerge in an expanding universe (see here).  Some say that the universe's heat death will come a very long time in the future (see here).  Stephen Hawking at one point posited a scenario of a continuous alternation between a Big Bang and a Big Crunch, in which entropy decreased towards the Big Crunch, which would be followed by another Big Bang and another universe (see here).  My understanding (which, in terms of science, is limited) is that many scientists do not believe that the universe will end with a Big Crunch, but rather that it will wither away, rather uneventfully.  My point, though, is that there may be other factors besides what Montgomery is considering, so one cannot be too rigid.

F.  Do I accept Montgomery's argument for the historicity of Jesus' resurrection?  That is a good question, one that I may ask myself anytime I read or listen to Christian apologetic arguments.  For now, I will just say that Montgomery's presentation struck me as too neat, or at least as presuming that reality is too neat.  There are a variety of considerations: the existence of Christian forgeries in the ancient world; how even "un-orthodox" Christians claimed ties to the apostles; miracle claims in non-Christian cultures; the question of whether Jesus' resurrection makes all non-Christian religions false and Scripture inerrant; how Christian stories were developed and added to over time, and how new stories were invented; etc.  I still am open to the possibility that the early Christians experienced something that they interpreted as supernatural, and that they had abnormal experiences (i.e., healings, miracles).

Book Write-Up: Our Program, by Abraham Kuyper

Abraham Kuyper.  Our Program: A Christian Political Manifesto.  Translated and edited by Harry Van Dyke.  Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015.  See here to purchase the book.

Abraham Kuyper (1837-1920) was a Dutch minister, a member of Parliament, and a prime minister.  He also founded the Free University in Amsterdam.  Many Christians have quoted his statement that “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: ‘Mine!’”

Our Program: A Christian Political Manifesto is a collection of articles that Kuyper wrote about the anti-revolutionary movement, of which he was a significant part.  Kuyper in this book presents his Christian political philosophy and proposes guidelines on how society can address certain issues.  Harry Van Dyke, the book’s editor and translator, provides an introduction that gives the reader a summary of Kuyper’s political thought and historical context.  Throughout the book, there are footnotes that provide historical background or inform the reader about what Kuyper is addressing.

One can get the impression that Kuyper was walking a fine line, or was trying to balance out different perspectives.  On the one hand, he did not support a secular humanist sort of state, which was why his movement was anti-revolutionary: it rejected the secularist legacy of the French Revolution.  On the other hand, Kuyper supported the separation of church and state and opposed theocracy, for he feared that the church being the government would corrupt the church.  Overall, Kuyper believed that godly principles should govern society, but he seemed rather inconsistent about how one should determine what those godly principles were.  He argued that natural religion—-God’s revelation through nature and conscience, which is available to everyone, including non-Christians—-should be what informs government policy.  At times, however, he appeared to go further than that, arguing that the Netherlands should respect its Christian heritage and that the Bible is the true source of a definition of justice.  One can guess about how Kuyper held together this apparent tension.  He states in one passage that Christians should try to persuade the larger society, so he may have believed that society should at its bare minimum yield to natural religion, but should be willing to go further, if enough people accept that.  Alternatively, Kuyper may have thought that the Bible itself presents natural religion as the proper guide for society.

Kuyper supported freedom of conscience.  He himself did not appear to be a pacifist, but he respects the right of conscientious objectors.  At the same time, he does not take his support for freedom of conscience as far as many Americans might in the twenty-first century.  He supports allowing an atheist to testify in court, but the atheist has to have somebody vouch for his character.  He presents Islam and paganism as religions that society should challenge.  Kuyper would not be the first person to have noble ideals, while making some exceptions to them.

There are many occasions in the book when Kuyper can be quite detailed in his proposals.  He is specific about how society can counter prostitution, for instance, or how it can honor Sunday.  Kuyper also has specific proposals about the structure and decorum of government, both national and local.  There were times when I thought that Kuyper should be more specific about what checks and balances should exist to prevent a leader from abusing his or her power.  Kuyper expresses support for a constitutional monarchy, and yet he is also rather critical of a republic, saying that a republic may lead to party conflict within the Parliament.  Kuyper is not against the existence of Parliament, though.  Kuyper’s preference is for the Netherlands to have a godly monarch like William of Orange, but what if the monarch or Parliament is unjust, or ungodly?  Often, Kuyper was saying that leaders should behave in a certain manner, but what would legally guarantee that they would behave that way?  Kuyper did say that people should resist the government, if the government fails to respect the independence and domain of different institutions (i.e., localities, families, etc.), and he presents a decorum for how to do so.  Also, Kuyper offered specific proposals about how elections can be implemented so as to respect the rights of the minority.  Perhaps Kuyper thought that these proposals would provide proper checks-and-balances.

Kuyper does express sensitivity to the poor and the marginalized.  While he was highly critical of public schools because of their secular nature, he still supported ways to help the poor to receive an education.  Kuyper defends the Netherlands’ colonization, and yet he opposes exploitation of the colonies’ resources; he advocates that the Netherlands serve its colonies.  Critics may understandably see Kuyper’s approach as condescending to the colonies, or they may hold that it falls morally short of the policy of not colonizing at all.  They would have a point, and yet Kuyper does deserve credit for wrestling with the humanitarian implications of policies.

Van Dyke in the introduction states that Kuyper considered himself to be a liberal in the anti-revolutionary movement, one who supported civil liberties, and yet Kuyper was open to learning from the conservatives, who believed in a stronger state.  That could be one factor that accounts for some of the tensions within Kuyper’s thought: Kuyper wants to support freedom, and yet he also agrees with the conservatives in their emphasis on tradition.

There are passages in the book that are beautiful.  For instance, Kuyper defends the sovereignty of realms, talking about how God has played a special part in those realms’ history and development.

Those looking for a thoughtful and edifying discussion of political philosophy from a Christian perspective will find that in the book.  But the book is not entirely that, for there are huge parts of it that are technical discussions about the issues of the day, such as public hygiene.  The technical parts of the book may be interesting to historians or people with a historical interest, from an antiquarian perspective.  Many readers’ eyes may glaze over those parts, though.  There were parts of the book that were rather elliptical: one would have to know the historical background to understand what Kuyper was saying.  In many cases, the footnotes were helpful.  In some cases, there were not footnotes, or the footnotes talked more about names, dates, and events, which did not shed much light on Kuyper’s discussion.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.

Book Write-Up: Dauntless, by Dina Sleiman

Dina Sleiman.  Dauntless.  Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 2015.  See here to buy the book. 

Dauntless is the first book of the Valiant Heart series.  I decided to read it and the second book (Chivalrous) because I requested a review copy of the third book of the series, entitled Courageous.  I just now received it.  I wanted to get caught up, just in case the third book presumes knowledge of the previous two books.  I also wanted to become accustomed to the author's writing style.  And I was in a medieval mood.  It's a good change of pace! 

Dauntless is set in England in the early thirteenth century.  John is King of England.  And he is a tyrant!  There was hope that he would respect the rights of the land-owners and limit his own power after the Magna Carta.  No such luck!

Lady Merry Ellison's father, a baron, committed treason against King John, so John killed him and destroyed his house and his village.  Merry was driven into the forest with other survivors, and they became like Robin Hood and his merry men, trying to survive through theft.  They become known as the Ghosts of Farthingdale Forest.

Merry grew up with Timothy Grey, and they were friends, maybe even more.  Timothy is now the assistant to the Earl of Wyndeshire.  Although the Earl thinks that John has gone too far, at times, the Earl dutifully carries out John's wishes.  The Earl expects Timothy to apprehend the Ghosts of Farthingdale Forest and bring them to justice.  What will Timothy do when he finds that Merry is the leader of the group?

There are other significant characters.  There is another John, who is a servant of the Earl, and is actually the Earl's illegitimate son.  He resents Timothy because his father likes Timothy more, and Timothy lives in more comfort.  There is also Allen, who is the spiritual leader of the Ghosts.  He was taught to read by a local priest.  Allen is infatuated with Merry.

Merry really struggles with her faith, on account of what she has experienced, and the political abuses of religion that she has observed.  She wrestles with the question of God's character and thinks about the type of God she wants to believe in.  She, and others, come to believe that God must be looking out for the Ghosts, since they have survived for so long.

Political debates also enter the picture.  Timothy disapproves of what King John did to Merry's family and village, but he feels that he has to obey the King, due to the King's brutality, the pope's approval of the King (at that point), and the Scriptural requirement that people obey their rulers (Romans 13).  Merry strongly disagrees.  And Allen holds out some hope that Prince Louis of France, who wants to be the King of England, would be a better ruler than John in his treatment of the English people, a people who are not Louis' own.

There is also some ethical wrestling, as the Ghosts struggle with wanting to please God, yet resorting to theft to meet their needs. 

The book was elegantly written, in terms of its prose.  The prose was formal, yet understandable.  The book would have been better had it had more political, religious, and ethical debates.  The book also should have included more detail about what exactly Merry's father did, maybe a flashback, for that would have helped the reader to know Merry better, and it would have rounded out the story more. 

Dina Sleiman includes an appendix in which she discusses the historical plausibility of her story.  That was informative.  She even says that things were more complex than King John being a villain. 

I started the next book of the series, Chivalrous, and it actually has some of the characters from the first book.  So far, it seems that one can follow Chivalrous without having read the first book, but reading the first book can still enhance one's appreciation of the second one. 

Does God's Knowledge Mean God's Justice?

Is God right just because God knows more than we do?  That question entered my mind years ago when I was reading the Book of Job in the Bible.  And it entered my mind recently when I was going through two books in volume 1 of James Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach.

Michael Stone in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha dates the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra to the second-ninth centuries C.E., and S. Agourides dates the Apocalypse of Sedrach to the second-fifth centuries C.E.  The English translations that I will quote in this post are those in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.

In both the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach, the protagonists (Ezra and Sedrach, respectively) wrestle with God on such issues as hell and God’s judgment of sinners.  They question God’s fairness in these areas.  Both think that the animals are in a better position than humans, since at least animals do not suffer God’s judgment!  Ezra and Sedrach try to intercede for the sinners, that God might have mercy on them.

God sometimes offers an answer to their questions, but God also says that God knows more than they do, and so they are not particularly qualified to be in the discussion.  God says to Ezra in the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra 2:32: “Count the stars and the sand of the sea and if you will be able to count this, you will be able to argue the case with me.”  In Apocalypse of Sedrach 8, God asks Sedrach a variety of questions: How many people have been born?  How many people have died and will die?  How many hairs did the people have?  How many trees have there been in the world?  How many trees will fall and come to be?  How many leaves did the trees have?  How many drops of rain have fallen?  God also asks questions about the different waves and the winds at sea.  And, of course, Sedrach did not know the answers to these questions.  (Note: I draw some, but not all, of the language of the questions from the translation in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha.)

The Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach are probably basing these scenes on the Book of Job in the Hebrew Bible.  Throughout the Book of Job, Job is questioning God’s fairness, not only regarding Job’s own suffering after Job had tried to be righteous, but also concerning the perceived unfairness in the world.  In Job 21 and 24, Job wonders why oppressors get off scot-free; live long, happy, and prosperous lives; and die in a state of peace.  In Job 38-41, God confronts Job and essentially argues that God has been around longer than Job, made things the way that they are, can do more than Job can, and knows more than Job does.  God asks Job some questions about nature: for instance, does Job know when goats and deer give birth?  Job, of course, cannot answer God’s questions.

When I read Job 38-41 years ago, I had a problem with God’s argument.  So God has been around longer than Job has, made things the way that they are, can do things that Job cannot do, and knows more than Job does.  Does any of that necessarily mean that God is right?  Just because God made and runs the world a certain way, that does not necessarily mean it is the best way.  Might does not mean right.  And knowing a bunch of trivia about nature does not necessarily mean that one is right, moral, or just.  That was what was in my mind when I was going through the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra and the Apocalypse of Sedrach: God knowing all those details about life and nature does not mean that hell is just.

I might as well incorporate my church write-up into this post, since it is relevant to this topic.  The pastor at the church that I attended last Sunday was preaching about James 3:13-18, which contrasts two types of wisdom.  The wisdom from below leads to envy, strife, and self-glorification, whereas the wisdom from above is about purity, peace, gentleness, and mercy.  The pastor was saying that wisdom and intelligence are not necessarily the same thing, for a person can be intelligent and use his intelligence for evil ends.  What is important is the goal towards which one’s intelligence is being applied.

That said, how can God appeal to God’s intelligence as justification for God’s actions?  If intelligence by itself does not necessarily entail morality or wisdom, can God’s intelligence truly justify God’s actions?
One can make a case that we should not dismiss the value of God’s intelligence too quickly.  A person who knows more about a machine than I do is more competent to use that machine in a productive manner.  Similarly, one can say that God is more qualified to run the universe than humans beings are, since God knows more about it.  In addition, while Job could look around and see things in life that struck him as unfair or as just plain wrong, Job may have felt that, overall, the cosmos ran rather well.  The animals got fed.  The birds flew.  Job may have believed that there was some wisdom and order in the course of nature, so God could appeal to that in defending Godself before Job.  We, too, can point to strange and seemingly wrong details of life and nature, but nature does work for our benefit, on some level.

But perhaps there is another way to understand how God’s superior knowledge can justify God’s actions.  Maybe God’s point to Job, Ezra, and Sedrach is not that God knows more than they do, and thus God is right, and how dare they question God!  Maybe God’s point is that God has this intimate knowledge of God’s creation because God cares about it.  Job, Ezra, and Sedrach are questioning whether God cares and is truly good. God’s response may be that God knows God’s creation better than they do, so they cannot accuse God of not caring.  Like many of us, God intimately knows and pays attention to what is important to God.  To quote Matthew 10:29-31:

29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows. (KJV)

The point could be this: God’s knowledge is an indication of God’s love, so God was not being flippant when God constructed hell or does anything else that puzzles us.  God does these things for a reason.

The question would then be whether one can make a case for this interpretation from the Book of Job, the Greek Apocalypse of Ezra, and the Apocalypse of Sedrach.  In all honesty, it is ambiguous.  The Book of Job could lean in that direction, for God’s maintenance of the cosmos is arguably an act of love.  God could be saying to Job that God lovingly maintains nature, and thus Job is wrong to argue that God is unjust.  The Greek Apocalypse of Ezra is rather punitive.  So is the Apocalypse of Sedrach, and yet its opening chapter is about the beauties of love.

Still, seeing God’s knowledge as an act of love could help us better understand the way that God is: God is not one who bullies people with God’s knowledge, but one who knows because God cares.

The Struggling Jesus and Word of Faith Christology

A couple of comments about Christology stood out to me recently.  This post is not entirely about the debate in the theology-blogosphere about whether God the Son is eternally subordinate to God the Father, in a functional sense.  But it will intersect with that debate, somewhat.  This post concerns Word of Faith Christology, or, more accurately, the Christology of some within the Word of Faith movement.

I was listening to a sermon online that was given at a church that I have attended occasionally.  The church can probably be associated with the prosperity Gospel and the Word of Faith movement.  At the same time, it does not just preach that believers can prosper financially or influence reality by speaking words of faith out loud, for it also talks about God’s broader work in the world.  The church talks about other topics besides how God can bless me, me, me.

The preacher is going through the Book of Ezra.  In Ezra 4, adversaries of the returning Jewish exiles approach the Jewish leaders and offer to help the returning Jews to rebuild the Temple.  The Jewish leaders reply as follows:

“Ye have nothing to do with us to build an house unto our God; but we ourselves together will build unto the LORD God of Israel, as king Cyrus the king of Persia hath commanded us” (v 3, KJV).

The lesson that the preacher got out of this passage was that the Jewish leaders were being a bit presumptuous.  We will build, they say?  Apart from God, they can do nothing!

The preacher then talked about Jesus.  Jesus on the cross prayed, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34 KJV).  Why did Jesus ask his Father to forgive the people who were putting him to death?  Why didn’t Jesus forgive them himself?  According to the preacher, Jesus was not making the same mistake that the returning Jewish exiles made in Ezra 4.  Jesus realized that he by himself could do nothing.  He by himself could not forgive those who were putting him to death, for, according to the preacher, Jesus was struggling with resentment and unforgiveness.  Jesus, in light of his own limitations, was leaving forgiveness to God, the only one who could forgive.

How orthodox that view is, well, that is a good question!  Christians believe that Jesus never sinned (II Corinthians 5:21; Hebrews 4:15; 9:28).  Could Jesus experience resentment and feelings of unforgiveness, without technically sinning?  On the one hand, such feelings would arguably go against love, which is part of the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22).  Forgiveness of sins was also a significant aspect of Jesus’ ministry, and Jesus exhorted his disciples to forgive seventy times seven (Matthew 18:22; Luke 17:4 mentions the criterion of repentance to receive forgiveness).  On the other hand, if Jesus had any feelings of resentment and unforgiveness, perhaps they could count as righteous indignation, which is arguably not sinful.  God often expresses that kind of frustration in the Old Testament.

There is also the issue of Jesus being God, even when he was a human.  Jesus had to depend on God because he by himself could do nothing, the preacher says?  But Jesus was God!  And yet, as seems fairly clear in the current Trinitarian controversy in the theological-blogosophere, orthodox Christianity seems at least to acknowledge the possibility that the situation with the incarnate Christ is not entirely the same as the situation with God the Son before he came to earth.  That is because the incarnate Christ had a human nature along with a divine nature, whereas the preincarnate Christ only had a divine nature.  Many who deny that God the Son was eternally subordinate to God the Father in function would say that such a concept of subordination posits two contrary wills between the Father and the Son, and that would be incorrect because the Father and the Son are united in their will: if the Son has to consciously obey and submit to the Father, does not that imply that the Son technically has a will that runs contrary to the Father’s will, and that the Son needs to subordinate that contrary will in obedience to the Father?  That cannot be, they say!  At the same time, those who deny eternal functional subordination on the part of the Son still have to deal with biblical passages about the Son submitting to the Father in obedience (Matthew 26:42; John 5:30; I Corinthians 11:3; Hebrews 5:8).  The route that they often take is to say that the Son, as a human being, submitted to the Father.  The Son did not submit to his Father before coming to earth, according to them, for the Son and the Father were united in will at that time.  But they maintain that the Son did submit to the Father in obedience after coming to earth and taking on human nature: Christ’s human nature adds something significant to the equation.  This, many of them say, is the orthodox Christian position.

That said, would such a position be consistent, on some level, with what the preacher was talking about in his sermon?  Jesus, in his human nature, had to depend on the Father because he was inadequate in himself to do anything.  Jesus still had a divine nature, though, but there are Christians who say that Jesus gave up certain divine privileges in being a human: those divine capacities were still present, but Jesus was not using them.  I cannot be too dogmatic here, however, for I would not be surprised if Christians would tell me that what the preacher said was unorthodox and that the church fathers would be appalled at his comments.

Now for the other comment on Christology!  I was home alone for the past few days, so I watched some things on television that I do not ordinarily watch, because they are not exactly the cup of tea of others in the household.  I was watching Joyce Meyer.  She has been associated with the Word of Faith movement, and, indeed, she has spoken about the importance of words and speaking words of faith out loud.

Joyce was talking about how Jesus at his trial did not say a word.  She said that this long puzzled her, but then it dawned on her why Jesus remained silent: Jesus was in a trying time and did not want to give the enemy (Satan) a foothold by speaking words of complaint and bitterness.  That reminded me of what that preacher said in that sermon that I heard.  Of course, there are other explanations for why Jesus was silent at his trial.  Jesus had a mission to die for our sins, so he did not fight his execution.  I Peter 2:23 states: “Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously” (KJV).  Can this intersect, at least somewhat, with what Joyce was saying?

In terms of Christian living, what the preacher and Joyce said resonates with me.  I recognize my own limitations: I by myself cannot forgive, and thus I need to rely on God’s power and activity.  Or, at least, there are some days when it is easier for me to think good, loving, peaceful, forgiving, and compassionate thoughts, and some days when that looks like an impossibility.  Jesus in John 15:5 says, “without me ye can do nothing” (KJV).  And, in reference to what Joyce was saying, I may be simmering on the inside, but I have to watch what I say in those situations.  Often, it may be better for me to say nothing.  To speak in such a situation could disrupt my own peace and the peace of others (which is not to dismiss the appropriateness of confrontation, in certain situations).

But was Jesus on earth in the same boat that I, and many others, are in, in such cases?  Is it unorthodox or heretical to suggest that?  Jesus had a walk with God.  As a human, he showed us how to walk with God.  Did Jesus struggle, like we do?  Hebrews 4:15: “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin” (KJV).

Scattered Ramblings on Contentment and Hope

A few weeks ago, I watched the 1955 movie, A Man Called Peter, which was about Peter Marshall, a preacher and Senate chaplain.  I did not know much about Peter Marshall himself, but I enjoyed his wife Catherine’s book, Christy, along with the TV series and the movies that were inspired by it.  And, a decade ago, I listened to a cassette tape in which his son, Peter, Jr., was vigorously arguing that America was a Christian nation.

But let’s not get on that controversial tangent!  In this post, I want to use as a starting-point a story-line in the movie.  Catherine in the movie gets tuberculosis and is bedridden.  She and her husband pray continually for her to be healed, but to no avail.  Peter wonders if God is punishing him for being prideful, on account of his numerous followers and his prestigious contacts.  At one point, though, Catherine simply accepts her condition.  She tells God that, if she is to remain an invalid for the rest of her natural life, then so be it.  It is at that point that she is healed.  She and Peter both agree that God decided to heal her after she finally accepted her condition.  It’s as if God was waiting for her to stop striving, to make peace with her lot, and to let go.

The theme that I want to highlight is the tension between contentment and persevering in faith.  Both themes are found in Scripture.  On contentment, the apostle Paul says in Philippians 4:11-13:

11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
12 I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.  (KJV)

To quote the old hymn, “Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul!”

And yet, there are also Scriptural passages about persevering in prayer and in faith, which implies not accepting the status quo.  Luke 18:1 introduces a parable by saying: “And he spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint” (KJV).  The parable is about an unjust judge who finally gives a woman justice after she has repeatedly asked him for it.  Similarly, in Luke 11, Jesus teaches his disciples to seek and to ask, and he tells them a story about a person who begged his friend at night to give him three loaves.  He got what he wanted, after his frequent requests.

Many Christians apply the theme of perseverance in prayer and faith to their own desires.  They are believing God for a good job, or a spouse, or healing.  Whether they are justified to apply these passages to these kinds of desires is a good question.  The passages themselves relate to something rather specific.  The story in Luke 18 is about God coming to avenge God’s elect, presumably for the persecution that they have received (Luke 18:7).  Essentially, the afflicted Christians are to pray continually for the coming of the Son of Man, to hold on in faith that the Son of Man will come and bring justice.  In Luke 11:13, Jesus says that God will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask.  What are people supposed to seek, knock, and ask for, in Luke 11?  The Holy Spirit.  Within Luke-Acts, that was probably fulfilled in Acts 2, when God poured out the Holy Spirit onto the Jewish Christians on the day of Pentecost.

But can one believe God for other things?  There are passages in the Bible about God providing for people, or God blessing people with good things.  Who is to say that this cannot include a job, or healing?  So often in the Gospels, sick people are healed according to their faith.  One should not condemn people who remain sick or who die in sickness by telling them that their faith was not strong enough.  Bad fruit has come from that approach.  But why can’t people continually hold on to God in faith, keeping hope alive that God may heal them, or grant them the longings and desires of their heart?

In the 1990’s, there was a television show, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.  In a very depressing plot-line, the town’s pastor, Timothy Johnson, was going blind.  The Christians of the town continued to pray for God to heal him, and Timothy was trying to hold on to some hope that this healing would occur.  But Sully wanted Timothy to prepare for his coming blindness, and he made Timothy a cane so that Timothy could get around once he became blind.  Dr. Quinn transformed something that she heard from her Native American friend Cloud Dancing into a Christian message for Timothy: that trials occur because God is preparing us for a new stage in life.  (Cloud Dancing said “the spirits” did this.)  The show presented a question: Should Timothy hold out hope and continually pray for God to heal him, or should he simply accept his condition and try to cope with it?  The show supported the second option.

Accepting one’s condition and trying to be happy or content with it can make one feel better.  Being consumed with continuous, unmet desires can lead to feelings of restlessness, discontent, and unfulfillment.  Acceptance, by contrast, can bring a person inner peace.  At the same time, do we truly want to say that God is against us dreaming and hoping?  Life would be boring without our dreams to keep us going.

I was listening to a sermon yesterday.  This was from the prosperity church that I occasionally attend.  The pastor in that particular sermon, however, was preaching contentment rather than hoping for prosperity or increase.  He was saying that, if we find that Jesus is not enough for us, then we are making that something else that we “have” to have into an idol.  He was saying that we should find our contentment and joy in our personal relationship with Jesus.  We should have contentment, because Jesus should be enough.

In terms of my own personal journey, in some areas I have accepted my situation, and in some areas I have not.  I am content with remaining single for the rest of my life.  Maybe there is some hope for a romantic relationship somewhere in my mind, but it is not as consuming as it was back when I was in my twenties.  I have more contentment and acceptance now, in that area of my life.  At the same time, as my student loans loom in the background, I am trying to believe God that, at some point, God will provide for me financially, through employment.  (Of course, I have to do my part, too.)  In some cases, the status quo is tolerable.  In other cases, change is necessary.

On finding contentment in Jesus, that is something I struggle to do, from my Christian agnostic perspective.  I was reading an article yesterday, though, about academic envy, and it sensitized me to how even secular people need something to hold onto for their feelings of self-worth, apart from the vicissitudes of feast and famine, success and failure.  To quote from the article:

“Another friend and colleague said she relies on work-life balance to avoid feelings of envy in the first place. From her perspective, it’s far easier to avoid the traps of professional envy if you don’t rely on your academic successes to define who you are as a person. ‘My self-worth isn’t defined by how many articles I’ve published,’ she told me.”

Contentment.  Dreams.  Holding on to something larger or broader than success or failure.  All of these are important for a healthy outlook.