Dominance?

The semester is ready to begin at Earlham School of Religion and I am again welcoming the combination of the intellectual, creative and spiritual that the school offers as I prepare for classes in Bible and Christian history, writing and spiritual formation. I have never attended a school quite like this and find the synergy exciting and energizing.

I have stumbled across the Dutch thinker Mieke Bal, who I vaguely remembered as an art history critic who wrote an essay I once read about Vermeer and the navel. She's also a specialist in narratology and has written a book about women in the Bible called Lethal Love. The book is old, dating to the late 1980s, I believe, but I am playing catch-up. Bal is "out there"--and I don't agree with her reading of the Adam and Eve story-- but it is precisely her challenge to everyday thinking that I find stimulating and provocative.

A quote from her chapter in Lethal Love on Eve speaks to my heart (and, as I realize she theorizes about "quotation," I recognize that I am re-contextualizing her):

The alternative readings I will propose should not be considered as yet another, superior interpretation that overthrows all the others. My goal is rather to show, by the sheer possibility of a different reading, that "dominance" is, although present and in many ways obnoxious, not unproblematically established. It is the challenge rather than the winning that interests me. For it is not the sexist interpretation of the Bible as such that bothers me. It is the possibility of dominance itself, the attractiveness of coherence and authority in culture, that I see as the source, rather than the consequence, of sexism.


What do you think? I love the idea of a space of equality and integrity, for the play of ideas without a "winner;" I fear the "too neat" package (why I am ever railing against formulations such as "religions are different paths up the same mountain"); I also fear (as do Bal, and Derrida, whom she is reacting to) a mindless chaos, an anything-goes individualism, a Tea partyism gone off the deep end.

The hermeneutic of imagination

Recently, I finished my first semester at ESR, and my first semester as a full-time student in a very long time. It's been an interesting experience and there's so much to say about it that it becomes too long for a blog, so I will talk here about one piece of it.

The program merges an emphasis on scholarship with a push towards creativity. In both my Old and New Testament classes, despite the rigorous scholarly approaches, we were encouraged to be creative in our final projects. Since I am engaged by both scholarship and creativity, I did both, developing what I call a "hermeneutic of imagination."

The hermeneutic of imagination worked as follows: I first very deeply imagined myself into both the book of Revelation (for New Testament class) and the stories of Abigail and Bathsheba (for Old Testament class). For Revelation, I took to heart Elizabeth Schussler Fiorenza's advice to approach the book imaginatively, and as I read, I lived beside John touring heaven with the angels as his guides. It pulled me into John's vision of heaven in a new way. I then took what I "saw" on that journey and used it as an entry point to a scholarly reading of Revelation. What I learned touring with John is that heaven is incomplete without The New Jerusalem: that heaven, a pallid, emotionless space (except for endless praises to God and the Lamb) needs the robust embodiment that earth offers as much as humans need the justice and mercy that heaven offers. It's a symbiosis. This surprised me, because I'd thought of heaven as perfect and complete--that which we aspire to. John's heaven is not. It needs the "juice" of earth and humanity--of God's worldly creation.

I also imagined my way into Abigail and Bathsheba, and soon realized that although they are kept separate in the narratives, they must have known each other, since both were David's wives. I imagined them together and what they might say to each other. I learned from this that both, despite the misunderstandings of the scholars, were empowered by silence, and I learned that you can't impose the same interpretive grid on both David and his wives, because David had a great deal of power and the wives didn't. For people with less power, the ability to operate silently--underneath the radar--is so important. For a person such as David--a king--public displays of power are all important.

I made many interesting discoveries about Bonhoeffer, and somehow intuited that Shakespeare was a lens through which to understand him. This gets back to a subject that has been much on mind: the role of fiction in understanding fact.

Somehow, God is central to this: the God that wants all of us, body, mind, heart and soul, imagination and reason.

The Practical Part is Called For

"A doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed." James 1:25

"Now the practical part is called for. For people must not be always talking and hearing, but they must come into obedience to the great God of heaven and earth." George Fox, From Mind the Heavenly Treasure

George Fox to BP

As the Lily, Ye All May Grow

He shall grow as the lily, Hosea, 14:5

Take heed, that with all your mind [you] may be kept up to God, who is pure; that as the lily ye all may grow, and receive wisdom from God how to use the creatures in their places, to the glory of him that created them."

George Fox, from Mind the Heavenly Treasure, p. 38

Amen, George.

The Beatitudes

The Beatitudes (see below) have always been clear statements to me of what we might expect in the Kingdom of God. They reflect the "upside-down" kingdom that Jesus preached, and speak to deep longings in the human heart for justice, peace, mercy and comfort.

The Beatitudes say that everything we might be tempted to do out of haste, fear, self-interest or thoughtlessness--letting the hungry go hungry, arming ourselves to feel safe, denying our need to mourn, trodding on the meek--are the opposite of what we need to do to participate in God's kingdom. They are a reminder of God's justice and of the way God looks at the world. God blesses the gentle, the humble, the sorrowful, the hungry and the peacemaker, as well as the persecuted and the merciful.

The Beatitudes advise my community to behave gently and build peace, to walk humbly and seek righteousness.

As we know, Matthew's Beatitudes are more "spiritualized." Luke's Beatitudes treat physical situations: blessed are the poor, not the poor in spirit; blessed are they hungry, not those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. The Lukan Beatitudes also offer four warnings or woes directed toward those with money and status.

My social location as a woman, a Quaker, and a person in solidarity with the poor and oppressed draws me towards the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes reflect what I wish my values to be and challenge an aggressive world (and self) to become gentler. As an educated, middle-class white person from a wealthy country, they also challenge me to resist aligning with ruling class attitudes and complacency. The "woes" in Luke raise a certain level of discomfort, and remind me that God--rather than money or the opinions of the world--confers blessings and sides with the poor.

Because of my location in a highly individualist culture, I tend to look at the Beatitudes through the eyes of "me," rather than "us," and see them as a "personal conscience inventory" for assessing my own journey. My challenge is to interpret them as communal values and shared goals in which I can participate. They encourage me to find out where God is already at work in the world and to join that effort.

Do the Beatitudes mean anything to you? If so, what? Do you have any ideas how we can we enact them in more communal ways?

The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12)

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall possess the land.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice: for they shall have their fill.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God.

Blesses are the peacemakers: for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are ye when they shall revile you, and persecute you, and speak all that is evil against you, untruly, for my sake: Be glad and rejoice, for your reward is very great in heaven.

Source: Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition of the Bible (in the public domain)

Beatitudes ( Luke 6:20-26)
20 And he lifted up his eyes on his disciples, and said: "Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. 21 "Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied. "Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh. 22 "Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, on account of the Son of man! 23 Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets. 24 "But woe to you that are rich, for you have received your consolation. 25 "Woe to you that are full now, for you shall hunger. "Woe to you that laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep. 26 "Woe to you, when all men speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets.

Abigail: Peace and security

"Peace is confused with safety. There is no way to peace along the way to safety. For peace must be dared. It can never be safe. Peace is the opposite of security.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I've been thinking about this Bonhoeffer quote and how true it seems to me. Why do we so often confuse security with peace? If we could understand that security and peace were two different things, would that change everything? Would we become less fixated on "security?" (Of course, Bonhoeffer is talking about worldly security, not religious security.)

On the largest level, we believe that if our borders are "secure" no "enemies" can get through and we will have peace.

We believe--some of us--that if we have a big enough arsenal of weapons, we will be secure from the mayhem of a "home invasion."

In our private lives, perhaps we think if we have enough financial security--enough money in the bank--we will have peace of mind. We won't have to worry in case something "happens". But the lesson of history is that you can never have enough.

These "securities" separate us from our fellow humans. Instead of making us more secure, they make us more fearful of the people who might want what we have.

Achieving peace means allowing ourselves to be vulnerable to other people. It means sacrificing some of our security.

One of my favorite Bible stories is the tale of Abigail, a peacemaker.

David--later to become Israel's king-- was fleeing Saul, who was trying to kill him. David sends some of his men to ask Nabal, a wealthy landowner, for a present, presumably food, because David and his men have been guarding Nabal's vast flocks. Nabal dismisses David's men empty handed, referring to David as a "slave." David tells his men to buckle on their swords and vows to slaughter Nabal and everyone associated with him.

Since Nabal is more or less worthless, Abigail, his wife, acts without consulting him. She has raisins and bread, figs and wine, loaded on donkeys and with these gifts and some sheep goes out to greet David. She falls down in front of him and begs him not to slaughter her people, appealing to his peace of mind. When he is a great king, he won't want to have innocent blood on his hands.

David calms down, accepts her gift and blesses her for preventing him from shedding blood out of anger. He vows not to harm anyone and he doesn't. Shortly thereafter, when Nabal, who appears to be an alcoholic, dies of a seizure, David marries Abigail.

What do we learn from this story?

First, a conflict can be resolved without killing. Nobody dies through violence in this episode. This is somewhat remarkable for the Old Testament, in which violence is the normal way to solve conflicts. Abigail does not feel any inclination to, for example, hammer a tent peg through her husband’s skull—and David doesn’t ask her to.

Second, no treachery is involved. Abigail approaches David without consulting Nabal but she does it to save Nabal, not betray him. Further, David doesn’t ask her to betray him or her people.

Third, to attempt peace, Abigail has to act courageously. She has to become vulnerable. She has no guarantee that David won’t murder her and her party, and good reason to think he will. She also has no guarantee that David won’t kidnap and rape her or sell her into slavery. Peace making means risk taking.

Fourth, here the patriarchal male is not the savior of the people. In a crisis, a “young man” turns to Abigail. Her earned de facto leadership rights trump Nabal’s gender and de jure headship, undercutting the notions of “anointed” leadership emphasized in the previous story, in which David protects Saul--even though Saul wants to kill him-- because he’s a king. This dovetails with the Quaker notion that anybody can be chosen by God to be a leader, messenger or peace maker.

Fifth, Abigail appeals to David’s honor and imagination, telling him he won’t want to wake up one morning as king with a massacre on his conscience. She talks him down from his anger—and he’s grateful. He even admits the slaughter would have been wrong. From this, we learn of a yearning to be released from the endless cycle of violence. Thus, this story undercuts the heroic narrative of David as warrior king, at least raising the question: Is military leadership the right model of kingship or has it been forced on David? And how many people wish an Abigail would step forward at the right moment and prevent a bloodbath that seems inevitable?

Finally, we learn that vows can be broken. Minds can change. David, like Jesus in the story of the Syro-Phoenician women, listens and learns. This shows that we have the ability to break cycles of violence through empathy. We’re not required to be rigid.

I love Abigail. While the men are posturing, she's peacemaking. I love her story, because it shows we don't have to resort to violence.

Is there anything you'd like to add?

Was Jesus Chill?

I asked Roger if he thought Jesus was chill and he said, yes, if the Son of the God comes to earth, that's inherently chill.

Ok. But Jesus didn't always act chill. For instance, in the garden of Gethsemane, he more or less fell apart and started crying and asking God to take the cup away. On the other hand, when it was time to face Pilate, Jesus was chill.

Jesus had many moments when he stayed chill with people, such as when the Syrophoenician woman was insistent about having her daughter healed. He was chill about healing the Roman centurion's daughter. Chill about feeding the 5,000. Totally chill about saving the woman who was about to be stoned for adultery.

Preaching "love your enemies" is about as chill as it gets. I would call that the ultimate chill statement.

On the hand, he lost it with the Pharisees, and his final week was frenzied--hence the term "the passion." Driving the money lenders from the Temple doesn't seem too chill to me. But David might have slaughtered them all--so perhaps the whip was a chill gesture after all.

What do you think? Was Jesus chill? Roger says that since being chill is the highest of all human achievements, Jesus was a priori chill. But, of course, the other question is, dare I ask, how important is chill?

Bible written earlier than thought

Have you seen this? (I first saw it on Jesus Creed):

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20100115/sc_livescience/biblepossiblywrittencenturiesearliertextsuggests

Here's the text of the story:

Scientists have discovered the earliest known Hebrew writing - an inscription dating from the 10th century B.C., during the period of King David's reign.
The breakthrough could mean that portions of the Bible were written centuries earlier than previously thought. (The Bible's Old Testament is thought to have been first written down in an ancient form of Hebrew.)
Until now, many scholars have held that the Hebrew Bible originated in the 6th century B.C., because Hebrew writing was thought to stretch back no further. But the newly deciphered Hebrew text is about four centuries older, scientists announced this month.
"It indicates that the Kingdom of Israel already existed in the 10th century BCE and that at least some of the biblical texts were written hundreds of years before the dates presented in current research," said Gershon Galil, a professor of Biblical Studies at the University of Haifa in Israel, who deciphered the ancient text.
BCE stands for "before common era," and is equivalent to B.C., or before Christ.
The writing was discovered more than a year ago on a pottery shard dug up during excavations at Khirbet Qeiyafa, near Israel's Elah valley. The excavations were carried out by archaeologist Yosef Garfinkel of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. At first, scientists could not tell if the writing was Hebrew or some other local language.
Finally, Galil was able to decipher the text. He identified words particular to the Hebrew language and content specific to Hebrew culture to prove that the writing was, in fact, Hebrew.
"It uses verbs that were characteristic of Hebrew, such as asah ('did') and avad ('worked'), which were rarely used in other regional languages," Galil said. "Particular words that appear in the text, such as almanah ('widow') are specific to Hebrew and are written differently in other local languages."
The ancient text is written in ink on a trapezoid-shaped piece of pottery about 6 inches by 6.5 inches (15 cm by 16.5 cm). It appears to be a social statement about how people should treat slaves, widows and orphans. In English, it reads (by numbered line):
1' you shall not do [it], but worship the [Lord].
2' Judge the sla[ve] and the wid[ow] / Judge the orph[an]
3' [and] the stranger. [Pl]ead for the infant / plead for the po[or and]
4' the widow. Rehabilitate [the poor] at the hands of the king.
5' Protect the po[or and] the slave / [supp]ort the stranger.
The content, which has some missing letters, is similar to some Biblical scriptures, such as Isaiah 1:17, Psalms 72:3, and Exodus 23:3, but does not appear to be copied from any Biblical text.

What do you think? I'm not a Bible scholar but I'm aware that much has been made of the Bible as written post-Babylonian captivity and thus as viewing Israel's history through the prism of that event. Obviously, parts of the OT were written post- captivity. But here we have an apparently pre-captivity fragment. Does anyone who knows more about this want to weigh in?

The importance of we insignificants

At Stillwater Meeting this morning, there were a flurry--if you can have a "flurry" in a Quaker meeting --of messages about the importance a small, seemingly insignificant person can have in carrying out God's will for the world. I find it interesting that so many of us were on the same thought trajectory in this meeting and cannot help but wonder--and believe--that God was speaking through his people, and that these thoughts were the the thoughts of the Holy Spirit as it filled our room with its palpable presence.

The messages went well into the afterthoughts section following meeting for worhsip, so I did not speak my thoughts, which felt as if they were a message too, and which were on the same theme. I have been reading Bob Dixon's two-volume work on sexism, classism and racism in (primarily English) children's literature, written in the 1970s. He documents outrageous examples of racism in books still in print in England at the time (I hope they are out of print by now), such as the story of the black doll who is disliked and rejected because of his black face until, at the end, as a reward for helping a sprite, his face is washed pink in the rain and then all the other toys and his owner decide they like the new, "attractive," him. In the section on sexism, Dixon discusses a recurring theme in girls' literature, which could be summed up as "punishment of the tomboy." In many books, a lively, assertive, active girl--a tomboy--disobeys adults who tell her not to do something physical and as result, has a terrible accident which lays her up for months or years in bed and/or a wheelchair, until she learns the lessons of docility and sweet acceptance of her lot. As Dixon puts it about yet another of this type of girl's book, "Yes, you guessed it. The wheelchair for her."

While it's appalling the ways in which stereotypes were (and are) taught and reinforced, I thought DIxon was partially wrong when he also blamed "religion"--in the vast majority of these cases the religion he has in mind must have been Christianity--for reinforcing sex, class and racial hierarchies. He places this blame offhandedly or incidentally--he's not really concerned at all with religion, but seems to add it as an afterthought--and he reminded me that it's true that Christianity has often been twisted to support an unjust status quo. As Dixon puts it, religion can reinforce the notion that everyone must stay in his or her supposedly God-given place, and not challenge an unfair manmade social system that assigns certain groups of people second-class status.

A cursory glance at the Bible shows that in God's kingdom of ordering and assigning of tasks there is no second-class based on race, class or sex. The Bible is replete with stories of the lowly--the second-class citizens in the eyes of the world--being selected as the chosen ones. For example, the "weaker" sex rises to the occasion in the stories of Miriam, Ruth, Deborah, Abigail, Esther, and Mary Magdalene, just to name the few that pop to mind almost instantly. Joseph is sold into slavery (definitely a step into a lower class) before he saves Egypt and then Israel from mass starvation. Jesus is explicitly the son of a nobody. Peter and Andrew are fishermen. Finally, the story Acts, of course, shows the breakdown of an ethnic stereotype that reserved the outpouring of the Holy Spirit for bona fide Jews. Every human, the early apostles discover, can be touched by God's spirit. We learn there is no male or female, slave or free, Jew or Greek in the kingdom of God. Hierarchy is erased. People will, obviously, stay male or female and keep their ethnicities, but these will no longer be used to assign places higher or lower in the status hierarchy. How has this message gotten so messed up????

We can help dispel the false constructions of Christianity used to uphold privilege and oppression by building churches and meetings that continue to enact the Biblical stories of equality, simplicity, integrity and inclusion. As the many messages in Meeting for Worship expressed, we insignificant people need to keep on keeping on --like the Hobbits in the Lord of Rings (one example used in a message), the small bird threatened by a hawk (another example) even when we are discouraged and don' t want our tasks, and don't think it's possible to succeed with all the darkness in the world crushing down on us. Blogs such as the one on Quakers and social class, and books like the recent--I'm taking a stab at the title-- Fit for Friends, not for Friendship, can keep us focused on the ways classism and racism can infect our communities. We can continue to spread messages of compassion, love, joy, equality, kindness and mutual support. We can continue to assert that these are the true messages of the Bible. OK, this is terribly preachy--I cringe on rereading it and of course, these are just my thoughts, not what anyone "should" do or would even want to do, and to me they seem so obvious I wonder why I am writing this !!! but then I think of all the ways religion has been and can be distorted to beat people down--but OK. I'll stop. :)

Slightly off topic, but one question: My sense is that very little sexism infects the Society of Friends. Am I wrong about this?

Reading the Bible in 20 months: OT peace, part 2

As I alluded in my last post, I have long wanted to place the grid of a peace document over the Old Testament and at times I can almost do it, but not quite. I can explain away much of the Old Testament violence--or fit it into my peace frame--but not all of it. For example, I can understand the Samson stories. In one initially horrifying tale, Samson kills 30 non-Israelites because he needs their 30 suits of clothes to pay off a bet he lost. He murders them without blinking an eye--and in fact, the story seems to approve his resourcefulness in getting himself out of a jam. The mind reels, but then realization strikes: this is a folk narrative, a classic trickster tale, a Paul Bunyan tall tale. It's meant to be read in a nonliteral context. In another case, there's the psalm often used to clinch the case that Christian are psycopaths (even though it's a Jewish text. (These same critics would never, ever use this text to attack Jews.)). In this psalm, the writer prays for the dashing out of the brains of his enemies' babies. Not pleasant stuff, but we can see it as a cry of anguish and anger against oppressors. And as many have pointed out, stating emotions and acting on them are two different things.

Other acts of violence are harder to explain away. Why would God tell Saul to kill all the Amalekites, a case of ethnic cleansing if there ever was one? I'm tempted to think the Bible writers got the feed wrong, that they misinterpreted God's words. This may be, but isn't it self serving to decide that episodes I don't like are mistakes? What if God really did mean for Saul to wipe out the Amalekites? (The whole tenor of the Bible works against this interpretation but still ....) I've also heard the Amalekite story interpreted as a metaphor: in this reading, the Amalekites become the stand-in for evil. In that case, the story illustrates that we can't compromise and wink at evil when it is comfortable to do so, but need to get rid of it enitrely. Saying we're doing the self-serving thing for God, as Saul does (and haven't there been evangelists flying around in private planes "for God?"), doesn't wash. I can agree with that reading, but a residue lingers: why is the story then put into this confusingly literalistic guise? Have I missed a bunch of cues? Why not make it explicitly metaphoric, ala Aesops' Fables? Why does Elijah kill (or to use the term in the New English Bible, "slaughter") the 450 prophets of Baal? Why do we Quakers gloss over that "detail" when we talk about Elijah hearing "the small, still voice of God?" And what about the verse that exorts the Israelites to prepare for war and beat their ploughshares into swords? I've heard this explained as more derivative and less authoritative than the evocation to beat swords into ploughshares. But the point is: it's there.

Like many people, I'd like the Old Testament to be something other than it is. I would like it to be gentle book full of stories of lovingkindness and wise sayings about attaining peace and serenity, a sort of Zen prelude to usher in Christ. I would like it to be a beautiful book. What I'm really saying, however, is that I'd like the human race to be different than it is. I wish those Isrealites had been more civilized. Yet when I look around, I see that violence is still here. Beyond the private realm of violence, there are the wars with Iraq and Afghanistan, violence in Pakistan, the periodic outbreaks of horrific violence in Africa, the series of genocides attempted in the supposedly rational and enlightened 20th century that ran from Germany to Cambodia to Bosnia to Rwanda, etc. etc., stories-we've-all-heard-why-repeat-them. So I have to conclude that the Old Testament reflects how the world still lives. And for that reason, the stories still have relevance. I admire the honesty of the writers. They didn't, apparently, whitewash their story. They let it all hang out. And their story is our story.

To be continued.

Reading the Bible in 20 months: OT peace, part 3

For all the Old Testament violence, a strong strand of peace testimony threads through the Bible. The Garden of Eden is a peaceful place. Samuel, dismayed that the Israelites want a military, warrior king like the other nations, is inspired by God to tell them in some detail of the woes that will fall on them when they appoint a military king. And God seems to be willing to let the Israelites discover for themselves the evils of over-reliance on force and violence. Here is 1st Samuel 8:5 (I use the New English Bible translation because it has a paragraph structure): "the elders of Israel.. said '... appoint us a king to govern us, like other nations.'" God tells Samuel in verse 8/9: "They are now doing to you what just what they have done to me since I brought them up from Egypt: They have forsaken me and worshipped other gods." He instructs Samuel to warn the people about military kings: "...you yourselves will become his slaves. When that day comes, you will cry out against the king you have chosen, but it will be too late; the Lord will not answer you." (v.18/19). I think it's notable that, at least in this translation and the NIV, following a military leader is seen by God as idol-worship.

Abigail offers us an alternative to violence. When her husband Nabal (which apparently means "churl") rejects David's polite request for food after David has protected his flocks, David vows to destroy Nabal and his household. Nabal, from his perspective, sees himself as being blackmailed by David and digs his heels in. Abigail, "beautiful and intelligent," decides to load asses with food as a gift for David. She does it, at what we must assume is risk to herself, and humbly begs David to reconsider his attack. He blesses her for turning him from violence: "A blessing on your good sense, a blessing on you because you have saved me today from the guilt of bloodshed and from giving way to my anger." (1 Samuel 25:34). A little later, when Nabal dies of a seizure, David says: "Blessed be the Lord, who has himself punished Nabal for his insult and kept me his servant from doing wrong." (1 Samuel: 25:39) Much could be said about this story but three things stand out: David understands that killing Nabal and his people would have been wrong, Abigail is not a coward, but brave and wise, and both Nabal and David both have "sides" to their stories.

I don't want to go on too long, but certainly the prophecies of Isaiah speak compellingly to us of a peaceable kingdom, and the psalms refer often of a God of mercy and lovingkindness. Even stories that horrify modern sensibilites, such as Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac, point to a more loving, peaceful God than the false tribal gods surrounding the Israelites. As we find out in Chronicles, as Israel is spiraling out of control and adopting foreign religions, child sacrifice was a regular part of other faith group's strategy of appeasing angry gods. That the Jehovah God should so early and forcefully reject child sacrifice is a significant rejection of violence. And even the Elijah story, at least to me, seems to question Elijah's violence. He gets very frightened after the murders, which he apparently committed in a frenzy. He hides under a broom tree and, once Jezebel puts a price on his head for killing her priests, hides in the cave. He reminds me of Adam in the garden, hiding from God. When he does hear the voice of God, asking him what he's doing, he doesn't answer the question (perhaps knowing God won't be happy), instead calling himself God's zealous servant. What I take from the story is less tacit approval of the murders than a vivid portrait of the terror and dissonance Elijah experiences once he enters the world of violence.

And overall, doesn't much of the Biblical bloodbath critique itself? All of Israel's military conquests and adventures seem to get it nowhere in the end. It's vanquished by the Babylonians. It lives in almost perpetual fear of its neighbors. At the end of the OT, Israel appears to be at an impasse. What it's tried hasn't worked in terms of building a secure, independent nation state with Jehovah at the center. Conventional warfare, even under a king like David, doesn't seem to have built the Kingdom of God. Hhhhmmm ....

Soon I will blog about a pamplet I read recently on the Bible and peace, written in the 1940s, that makes a case much stronger than any I am making. In the meantime, I am interested in other peace stories in the Old Testament that might pop into people's minds.

Words that have power

I have had some difficulties again posting to my blog, so I am a little behindhand! But here goes:


Third month (March) 29, From "Mind the Heavenly Treasure," a devotional based on the writings of Quakerism's founder, George Fox:

"Walk as children of the light," Ephesians 5:8

"... keep close to the light in you, and do not look forth at words that proceed from a vain and light mind; but at the power of words. For the words of God, that proceed from him, are powerful and mighty in operation."

As I was pondering Fox's words, I received a Quaker Ranter post quoting from Luke:

"But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again ... Give and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom" (I've also read "lap" for bosom)

and

" ... why call ye me, Lord, Lord and do not the things which I say? Whosoever cometh to me and heareth my sayings, and doeth them ... He is like a man which built a house, and digged deep, and laid the foundation upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is like a man that without a foundation built an house upon the earth; against which the stream did beat vehemently, and immediately fell; and the ruin of that house was great."

Are there words today having power for you?

On Miracles: Reading the Bible in One Year

QuakerRanter Martin Kelly has fallen a couple of days behind on his one-year Bible read, which brings to mind that two years ago, I embarked on the same journey, and I too fell behind. It took me 20 months to complete a 12-month Bible devotional.

All the same, reading the Bible straight through, as one big sequential story, illuminated it for me in surprising ways. It was a remarkable undertaking. Here are a few things I discovered, which I will cover over the course of several days:

On Miracles

1. We tend to overrepresent the miracles in the Bible. Yes, there are miracles -- but more often than not, we read long, dismal stretches of history when we long for a miracle. Anything to lighten the bleakness. But no miracles occur, just a slow spiral into darkness.

2. The miracles tend to cluster around short, special periods, most notably the period of exodus from Egypt and the period around Jesus’ life. These are also, incidentally, periods that changed world history. Hhhmmm.

3. Even in the periods of miracle, the miracles aren’t as plentiful or magnificent as they could be. Frankly, they're fairly spare and austere. God parts the Red Sea and gives the Israelites their daily manna from heaven, but he doesn’t flood them with feasts or build them jeweled cities. Likewise, Jesus feeds the five thousand bread and fish, but not a sumptuous feast. God seems to give his people just enough miracle to get by and no more. Plain miracles. Almost dull miracles. I thought about this when I toured a mosque with a Quaker group. One of our tour guides, trying to stress the similarities between Christianity and Islam, told us the story from the Koran of the baby Jesus speaking at a few days old to rebuke people who were accusing his mother Mary of being a woman of ill-repute. It struck me that the Bible contains no similar fantastic stories of a talking infant Jesus. In fact, according to the biblical account, the only remarkable thing Jesus does as a child is to display wisdom in the temple at age 11 or 12. Notable, but hardly miraculous.

4. To me, the long stretches without miracles and the austerity of those that occur lend credibility to the miracles in the Bible. In the context of the whole Bible, they stand out like beautiful gems. You appreciate them more because they are rare. And although some people say the Bible is a fairytale, if you read it straight through, it’s much more a story of suffering, punctuated on occasion by the sparing but sparkling presence of God. While there are a few trickster tales and fables in the Bible, it’s mostly a depressing story of people who most of the time can’t get right with God and couldn't grab on to a miracle if it hit them over the head. If the "Bible" writers were going to “make it up,” you think they’d come up with something a little more entertaining.

So what do you think? Why do you think so many people are so "down" on Biblical miracles?

Christmas

"You have made men like fish in the sea, like sea creatures that have no ruler.
The wicked foe pulls all of them up in his dragnet;
and he rejoices and is glad,
Therefore he sacrifices to his net
and burns incense to his dragnet,
for by his net he lives in luxury
and enjoys the choicest food.
Is he to keep on emptying his net,
destroying nations without mercy?" Habbakuk 1:13-17

Of course, Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, fishermen, to become "fishers of men" jumps immediately to mind. Jesus calls his disciples so that they can oppose the people who devour others for their own gain. This adds a social justice dimension to the fish as a Christian symbol. The fish--the little people--get a loving ruler, Jesus, who protects them from the wicked. There's a sense of lines drawn: Who will get the fish (us): those who bring death or those who offer salvation?

As I read the Christmas story while doing the Advent calendar with Will and Nick and Roger, I again see how oppositional it is. It offers an alternative universe and a transformed way of viewing the world. Yes, there is the Roman emperor and other kings and princes, who rule through warfare and violence, but we have a prince of peace. Secular princes may bring terror but our prince brings goodwill. Our king, according to Mary, stands for the oppressed and the humble. In all of this is a complete challenge to an order based on material wealth and violence.

The peace testimony--God's commitment to peace--is underlined in God's rebuke to the proud in Habbakuk: "Woe to him who builds a city with bloodshed."

Jesus built his kingdom on peace, love, joy and humility.

"One of the greatest risks, I think, of living in a secular world ... is something I might call the Woody Allenization of everything. Too much reason. Too much self-awareness. Too much blah-blah. Too little wonder, and marvel and faith ... " Judith Warner, NYT, 12/23/08

The Christmas story gives us the gift of wonder, faith and miracle. Merry Christmas.

Peaceable Kingdom

Apparently, the above photos of a tiger with piglets are real, but despite some sweet stories circulating that a group of altruistic zoo officials brought in the piglets to help a grieving tiger mother heal from the loss of her young, the real story supposedly is that they are part of a Chinese zoo exhibit meant to startle viewers in the same way a circus sideshow might.

"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together." Isaiah 11:6.

And the tiger shall lie down with the piglet ...

Who says it can't happen?

Christmas

"You have made men like fish in the sea, like sea creatures that have no ruler.
The wicked foe pulls all of them up in his dragnet;
and he rejoices and is glad,
Therefore he sacrifices to his net
and burns incense to his dragnet,
for by his net he lives in luxury
and enjoys the choicest food.
Is he to keep on emptying his net,
destroying nations without mercy?" Habbakuk 1:13-17

Of course, Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, fisherman, to become "fishers of men" jumps immediately to mind. Jesus calls his disciples so that they can oppose the people who devour others for their own gain. This adds a social justice dimension to the fish as a Christian symbol. The fish--the little people--get a loving ruler, Jesus, who protects them from the wicked. There's a sense of lines drawn: Who will get the fish (us): those who bring death or those who offer salvation?

As I read the Christmas story while doing the Advent calendar with Will and Nick and Roger, I again see how oppositional it is. It offers an alternative universe and a transformed way of viewing the world. Yes, there is the Roman emperor and other kings and princes, who rule through warfare and violence, but we have a prince of peace. Secular princes may bring terror but our prince brings goodwill. Our king, according to Mary, stands for the oppressed and the humble. In all of this is a complete challenge to an order based on material wealth and violence.

The peace testimony--God's commitment to peace--is underlined in God's rebuke to the proud in Habbakuk: "Woe to him who builds a city with bloodshed."

Jesus built his kingdom on peace, love, joy and humility.

"One of the greatest risks, I think, of living in a secular world ... is something I might call the Woody Allenization of everything. Too much reason. Too much self-awareness. Too much blah-blah. Too little wonder, and marvel and faith ... " Judith Warner, NYT, 12/23/08

The Christmas story gives us the gift of wonder, faith and miracle. Merry Christmas.

Wise and foolish

Yesterday, I read Paul writing in Romans 1:14:

"I am obligated both to Greeks and non-Greeks, both to the wise and the foolish."

Paul was extremely and unabashedly Christ-centered; here he sounds like a Christian universalist, inviting everyone to the table. He seems eager to reach out to anybody and everybody. He is not elitist.

What do you think?

Seek the welfare of the city

From "Barclay Press Wess:" (You can link to his full blog entry on the right)

Jeremiah 29:7, “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
When this was written, the Hebrew people were living in exile under the Babylonian empire, yet God called them to live in such a way that the very neighborhoods and cities would be better because of them living there. The church as an exiled people always rubs up against the powers of the world, yet it doesn't retreat from it, it constantly seeks the peace of the kingdom within those places.

What do you think? How do we seek the welfare of those "cities" whose values differ from our own? What does this mean?

Postmodern theology: Israel's Gospel, part 1

Understanding the Bible as story rather than as a set formulas and accepting that our own understanding of the Bible is limited by the culture in which we live are key parts of postmodern theology.

In chapter 1 of "Old Testament Theology," John Goldingay, a postmodern theologian, discusses Old (or what he calls "First") Testament theology as narrative. He notes that the narrative--or story--of the First Testament is much longer than it needs to be if it were merely concerned to get the facts down. On the contrary, it is discursive, sprawling and uneven. He says that there are several reasons for this:

1. God takes humanity seriously. He works through humans, rather than forcing his will on humans. However, this is a slow approach, with a lot of backwards and forwards action that can be best understood through specific stories.

2. The Bible portrays the specificity of life with God. By hearing specific stories about specific people with specific challenges, demands, successes, failures, questions etc, we are encouraged to reflect on equivalent specificities in our own lives. Mostly, but not entirely, the narratives avoid proclaiming a set of unambiguous rules. Such "universal principle-based" proclamations can not offer the breath and nuance of narrative we need to help us to understand how God interacts with humans. Narrative is a way to capture these complex truths on many levels and from many perspectives.

3. The writers of the First Testament don't claim to know everything about their subjects, which reminds us that our own knowledge is fragmentary, be it about Abraham or about ourselves.

What do you think of this approach?

What is Yhwh?

This is from Scot McKnight's Jesus Creed blog about John Goldingay's "The Old Testament: Israel's Theology." One of the things I love about Scot's blog is the chance to participate in scholarly discussion. I am (thanks to Scot) on the brink of working my way through Goldingay's first 800-page book on the Old Testament. Here goes Scot on the second volume. There are some wonderful points here to ponder from Goldingay, a scholar who has made the Old (or First) Testament his life's work:

"The assumption of the First Testament is that there is one God and that God’s name is YHWH. The often-made point that God is unknowable — apophatic theology and its variants — is not quite the way we find it in the Bible: this God is knowable and becomes known in what is said and what is done. Holiness in the FT [=First Testament] does not create dread so much as does God’s majesty. Majesty is the outward expression of God’s holiness.

The “eternality” of God is about God spanning history more than speculation about foreverness. God as “Creator” is more about God’s ongoing creation than just about God making things all at once long, long ago.

Monotheism is Enlightenment stuff; the FT teaches Mono-Yahwism. Yhwh alone is the deliverer and liberator. The big issue is not arithmetical — there is only one God — but “Whom are you treating as God?” (40).

Anyone who reads the FT carefully will see Yhwh’s aides and representatives and rivals, and this is one of the only books you will find that deals with this theme — doesn’t Goldingay like that which cuts across the grain? — as thoroughly, interestingly, honestly, and carefully as does Goldingay. These other deities, he says, exist but they don’t count as God. Deut 32:8-9 teaches the reality, sees these lesser deities as appointed by God, and sees them as governing other nations. [For our readers, Gerry McDermott’s book, God’s Rivals, dealt with this in the context of world religions.]

God’s gender? “The FT avoids bringing sexuality into its portrait of Yhwh. ‘He’ is neither ‘man’ nor ‘woman’ (Deut 4:6) [citing Gerstenberger]” (47).

Yhwh frequently is embodied in representatives."

What do you think of these points?