First book of the New Testament. MATTHEW. Here we are, ready to intro JESUS!! Drumroll….. Ready, set… snore… It’s a genealogy, of all things, to start this party.
But Matthew is writing to a Jewish audience. They would need to know, just at the very ground level of taking him seriously, that Jesus was from the line of David. “Thus there were 14 generations in all from Abraham to David, 14 from David to the exile, and 14 from the exile to the Christ” (Matt. 1:17). The problem is, THERE WERE NOT 14 generations from David to the exile. Matthew was using a common ancient near eastern technique called ‘telescoping’ that skipped generations for structuring a genealogy. We know Matthew did that because he says Uzziah was the father of Jotham when, in fact, he was the great great grandfather of Jotham. (It would not have been an issue to the original author since ‘father’ could just mean ‘ancestor’.) Jews knew the Messiah would need to be a descendant of David. Rather than having a separate numbering system, the Jews used their alphabet as a numbering system. David’s name adds up to 14. By structuring David’s genealogy around the number 14, he’s emphasizing Jesus’ Davidic lineage. Matthew is a Jew writing to Jews about the Messiah. Americans could just snore through a bunch of genealogy names that are unpronounceable, but when I read Matthew 1 and take on the ancient mindset, the snore-able becomes RADICAL.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Beauty
The first-century world was a world of arranged marriages. Parents wanted their sons to marry the right woman because she would bring a large dowry and social and political connections. Parents wanted their daughters to marry the right man so she would be taken care of and also for the same social and political concerns with marrying off a son.
The dowry, a gift from the parents to the family their daughter was marrying into, functioned like an inheritance. Sons would receive their inheritance directly from their fathers. The understanding was that a dowry did not need to be as large as an inheritance because the daughters would take part in the inheritances of their husbands.
What becomes clear real quick is that if you’re a woman a good marriage is essential. You cannot simply go find a job. You are dependent on your husband. That means you were likely to do whatever it took to get the best marriage possible. At that time that meant wearing all sorts of gaudy jewelry and make-up and joining in the rat race. It was like The Bachelor on TV where each wealthy bachelor had many women to chose from and the only way a woman could increase her odds of landing the right man was to go gaudy in the style department.
But what did the apostle Peter have to say about this: “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self…”
Peter wasn’t telling women they couldn’t wear make-up or dress up or wear earrings. This is not an anti-woman passage. Far from it. What Peter is saying is that women no longer have to run the dehumanizing rat race to secure the right marriage. This is women’s lib, first-century style, but we miss that when we don’t understand the context in which it was written.
The dowry, a gift from the parents to the family their daughter was marrying into, functioned like an inheritance. Sons would receive their inheritance directly from their fathers. The understanding was that a dowry did not need to be as large as an inheritance because the daughters would take part in the inheritances of their husbands.
What becomes clear real quick is that if you’re a woman a good marriage is essential. You cannot simply go find a job. You are dependent on your husband. That means you were likely to do whatever it took to get the best marriage possible. At that time that meant wearing all sorts of gaudy jewelry and make-up and joining in the rat race. It was like The Bachelor on TV where each wealthy bachelor had many women to chose from and the only way a woman could increase her odds of landing the right man was to go gaudy in the style department.
But what did the apostle Peter have to say about this: “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self…”
Peter wasn’t telling women they couldn’t wear make-up or dress up or wear earrings. This is not an anti-woman passage. Far from it. What Peter is saying is that women no longer have to run the dehumanizing rat race to secure the right marriage. This is women’s lib, first-century style, but we miss that when we don’t understand the context in which it was written.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tithing: Probably NOT What You Think
I find there is a lot of confusion these days around the concept of tithing. In the Old Testament it’s nothing more than a temple tax designed to keep the temple, God’s house, running. In fact, the tithe was common in cultures of the ancient Near East because the temples were the economic centers of those societies. Paying a tithe to the temple was very similar to paying taxes to the government today.
The fact is there is no tithe today because there is no longer a temple. The local church is not the temple, nor is it God’s house. We are God’s house. Ironically, that means that if you are going to pay a tithe, a temple tax, you should pay it to yourself.
The New Testament doesn’t talk about the tithe because they understood what it was and they presumed its payment. No way would Paul or the local congregations ask people to tithe because the tithe was for the temple. How ironic is it that we often think our first 10% should go to the local church, and institution designed for believers, and any giving to missionaries, those reaching the lost, should be above and beyond the 10%.
We should stop talking about the tithe because it simply does not exist anymore. Sure we should give to our local churches and to missionaries and to local charities. We should love God with our resources. But tithing was not giving, it was a tax.
The fact is there is no tithe today because there is no longer a temple. The local church is not the temple, nor is it God’s house. We are God’s house. Ironically, that means that if you are going to pay a tithe, a temple tax, you should pay it to yourself.
The New Testament doesn’t talk about the tithe because they understood what it was and they presumed its payment. No way would Paul or the local congregations ask people to tithe because the tithe was for the temple. How ironic is it that we often think our first 10% should go to the local church, and institution designed for believers, and any giving to missionaries, those reaching the lost, should be above and beyond the 10%.
We should stop talking about the tithe because it simply does not exist anymore. Sure we should give to our local churches and to missionaries and to local charities. We should love God with our resources. But tithing was not giving, it was a tax.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Strength and Wealth
In some ancient Near Eastern languages the words for ‘strength’ and ‘wealth’ are interchangeable. Interestingly, Deuteronomy 6:4, the so-called shema, Moses tells the Israelites to love the Lord their God with all their hearts and with all their souls and with all their strength. The problem with this verse is that it literally says to love God with ‘all your exceedingly.’ Obviously, ‘all your exceedingly’ doesn’t make sense and so translators have to figure out how to put that into sensible English.
Funny thing is that ancient translators experienced the same problem. The translators of the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament made before the time of Christ, used the words power or might. This is where we get the translation ‘all your strength.’ The targums, Aramaic translations of the Old Testament, use the word mammon. This is the very word Jesus uses when he says, “You cannot serve both God and mammon,” i.e., money.
The point is that in Deuteronomy we are being told to love God with everything we’ve got, including our money. It’s not about tithing. It’s about loving God with all you’ve got, not just the first 10%. It’s also not a guilt trip. It’s not that Moses is some greasy con-man who just wants people’s money. It’s that God wants us to love him with every financial decision we make: paying rent, eating out, buying groceries, investing in your 401(k)…everything. God’s desire is that we revel in his blessing while eagerly desiring to pay that blessing forward.
Funny thing is that ancient translators experienced the same problem. The translators of the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament made before the time of Christ, used the words power or might. This is where we get the translation ‘all your strength.’ The targums, Aramaic translations of the Old Testament, use the word mammon. This is the very word Jesus uses when he says, “You cannot serve both God and mammon,” i.e., money.
The point is that in Deuteronomy we are being told to love God with everything we’ve got, including our money. It’s not about tithing. It’s about loving God with all you’ve got, not just the first 10%. It’s also not a guilt trip. It’s not that Moses is some greasy con-man who just wants people’s money. It’s that God wants us to love him with every financial decision we make: paying rent, eating out, buying groceries, investing in your 401(k)…everything. God’s desire is that we revel in his blessing while eagerly desiring to pay that blessing forward.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Back to School
School started today. I have to admit that I was very excited to get back to school, even though I didn't go out and buy a new bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils.
This semester I'm teaching first year Hebrew, second year Hebrew, and Historical Books (Joshua-Esther). In October I'll be doing an 'intensive' class on the Poetic Books. 'Intensive' just means that the class meets 8-5 for a week. Those are always exhausting, but this year the exhaustion will be mitigated because my friend Peter Hatton is coming over from Bristol, England to take a few days of the class. Not only will it be great fun to hang out with Peter, but it'll be great for the students becuase Peter is a top-notch wisdom scholar.
This semester I'm teaching first year Hebrew, second year Hebrew, and Historical Books (Joshua-Esther). In October I'll be doing an 'intensive' class on the Poetic Books. 'Intensive' just means that the class meets 8-5 for a week. Those are always exhausting, but this year the exhaustion will be mitigated because my friend Peter Hatton is coming over from Bristol, England to take a few days of the class. Not only will it be great fun to hang out with Peter, but it'll be great for the students becuase Peter is a top-notch wisdom scholar.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Job
The beginning of Job describes the man Job with the following four descriptors: blameless, upright, fears God, and shuns evil. Nowhere else in Scripture is a person given such an unqualified glowing description of righteousness.
Ironically, it’s this very righteousness that qualifies Job for suffering.
When Job is in the middle of his suffering, his friends challenge him to look deep into his own heart and life to find the hidden sin that led to the catastrophe. Sounds like good advice, except that we already know Job is blameless. But Job’s friends assume he sinned. They assumed that since Job is suffering he must have done something wrong.
Scripture tells us that generally speaking God blesses the righteous and makes life tough for the wicked. The problem arises when we look at blessing and assume it’s the result of righteousness or, like Job’s friends, look at suffering and assume it’s the result of wickedness or sin. In Job’s case, just the opposite was true: Job’s suffering was a result of his righteousness.
When we look at a tragedy, say a hurricane or a terrorist attack, and claim we know God is judging sin we defy the message of Job. We cannot look at suffering in the world or in our own lives and automatically declare it to be the result of sin. It’s true that our suffering and challenges, heartaches and disappointments can be the result of sin in our lives, but in those cases God is usually clear and the conviction is concrete.
The suffering may very well be the result of righteousness.
Think about when Jesus’ disciples looked at the blind man and asked Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” The disciples made the same mistake that Job’s friends made. Jesus responded, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
Ironically, it’s this very righteousness that qualifies Job for suffering.
When Job is in the middle of his suffering, his friends challenge him to look deep into his own heart and life to find the hidden sin that led to the catastrophe. Sounds like good advice, except that we already know Job is blameless. But Job’s friends assume he sinned. They assumed that since Job is suffering he must have done something wrong.
Scripture tells us that generally speaking God blesses the righteous and makes life tough for the wicked. The problem arises when we look at blessing and assume it’s the result of righteousness or, like Job’s friends, look at suffering and assume it’s the result of wickedness or sin. In Job’s case, just the opposite was true: Job’s suffering was a result of his righteousness.
When we look at a tragedy, say a hurricane or a terrorist attack, and claim we know God is judging sin we defy the message of Job. We cannot look at suffering in the world or in our own lives and automatically declare it to be the result of sin. It’s true that our suffering and challenges, heartaches and disappointments can be the result of sin in our lives, but in those cases God is usually clear and the conviction is concrete.
The suffering may very well be the result of righteousness.
Think about when Jesus’ disciples looked at the blind man and asked Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” The disciples made the same mistake that Job’s friends made. Jesus responded, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
Friday, August 20, 2010
GHA
There’s an interesting story written in Sumerian about 4000 years ago called Gilgamesh and Huwawa. It tells the story of Gilgamesh’s search for fame. He is confronted with the fact that, like all humans, he is mortal and will one day die. He reasons that if he can figure out a way to establish a name for himself then he will have achieved a sort of immortality.
The irony here is that Gilgamesh is already a man of renown. He is the king of his people. His people love him and view them as his shepherd. He single-handedly built the city defenses for them to protect them from their enemies. In short, he’s got it all.
But Gilgamesh strains his neck over the city wall, the wall that he built, and he laments that his past accomplishments are not good enough. He needs a new adventure to secure his spot in history and establish an eternal name for himself. He wants to live a life of meaning, a life of significance, so he decides to undertake a new adventure. He will travel to the east to defeat the mighty monster Huwawa. Before embarking on his journey, he seeks out and receives the blessing of the sun god.
There’s actually a somewhat similar story in the Bible. In Genesis 11 we are told that there was a group of people who, just like Gilgamesh, wanted to make a name for themselves. They sense their mortality, so they chose to build a tower that will reach into the heavens.
The big difference is that in the Bible God responds negatively to the undertaking. Why? Why did the sun god bless Gilgamesh in his search for fame but God thwarts the people in Genesis 11?
Because God refuses to be manipulated.
You see, the people weren’t building just any old tower. They were building a ziggurat, a tower that also serves as the home for a deity. They figured that if they could build God a home then they could contain him and manipulate him. After all, if they build a nice home for God, shouldn’t God bless them in return?
Maybe we don’t build towers to house God anymore, but we do sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that if we perform--go to church, give to missionaries, read the Bible every day, serve in the youth group--then God is somehow obligated to bless us. He might choose to bless us, but he’s not obligated. In fact, sometimes, like for Job, the ‘reward’ for our faithfulness is suffering.
The irony here is that Gilgamesh is already a man of renown. He is the king of his people. His people love him and view them as his shepherd. He single-handedly built the city defenses for them to protect them from their enemies. In short, he’s got it all.
But Gilgamesh strains his neck over the city wall, the wall that he built, and he laments that his past accomplishments are not good enough. He needs a new adventure to secure his spot in history and establish an eternal name for himself. He wants to live a life of meaning, a life of significance, so he decides to undertake a new adventure. He will travel to the east to defeat the mighty monster Huwawa. Before embarking on his journey, he seeks out and receives the blessing of the sun god.
There’s actually a somewhat similar story in the Bible. In Genesis 11 we are told that there was a group of people who, just like Gilgamesh, wanted to make a name for themselves. They sense their mortality, so they chose to build a tower that will reach into the heavens.
The big difference is that in the Bible God responds negatively to the undertaking. Why? Why did the sun god bless Gilgamesh in his search for fame but God thwarts the people in Genesis 11?
Because God refuses to be manipulated.
You see, the people weren’t building just any old tower. They were building a ziggurat, a tower that also serves as the home for a deity. They figured that if they could build God a home then they could contain him and manipulate him. After all, if they build a nice home for God, shouldn’t God bless them in return?
Maybe we don’t build towers to house God anymore, but we do sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that if we perform--go to church, give to missionaries, read the Bible every day, serve in the youth group--then God is somehow obligated to bless us. He might choose to bless us, but he’s not obligated. In fact, sometimes, like for Job, the ‘reward’ for our faithfulness is suffering.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Passover and Communion
In the time of Jesus, there was no bigger Jewish holiday than the Passover. The regulations for Passover are given in Exodus 12, where the Lord said to both Moses and Aaron that on the tenth day of the first month every household was to take a one-year-old male lamb without any blemish. It could be from either the sheep or the goats, and it was to be kept until twilight of the fourteenth of the month, at which time they were to kill it. If there weren’t enough people in the house to eat a whole lamb, they would join in with another house in the selection of a lamb. It was important for them not to have meat left over after the Passover meal.
Now imagine that you get together every year to celebrate the killing of a lamb and the smearing of its blood in order to have the wrath of God pass over you. Well, actually, it shouldn’t be too hard to imagine. We call it Easter. In fact, in the early church, the imagery most used to describe Christ’s sacrifice was the Passover.
Passover and the associated Festival of Unleavened Bread was a seven day holiday. “You must remember this day forever. Each year you will celebrate it as a special festival to the LORD. For seven days, you may eat only bread made without yeast…. No work of any kind may be done on these days except in the preparation of food.” Those who failed to observe the seven day holiday were cut off from the Israelite people.
Also associated with the whole Passover event was the birth of the nation Israel. Immediately after leaving Egypt, the people made their way to Mt. Sinai, and it was there that God made a nation out of that rag-tag bunch of slaves. Prior to this, although there was the promise of a great nation, there technically was no nation Israel. Thus, Passover became for the Israelites what Independence Day is for Americans. Note that it was also to be the beginning of their year, so it was like our New Year’s Day as well.
The giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai was remembered by the nation as a very significant time in their history. So when the people are delivered from slavery and given Torah they are given the ability to function as a nation. Americans don’t usually think of our nation’s constitution as some sort of lame piece of boring legalism that has nothing to do with us. Rather, we think of it as a document that guarantees our freedom and liberty. The same was true of the ancient Israelites when they thought of the law. It was what gave them identity and set them apart in their world. It gave them a sense of unity and common purpose, and the fact that it was tied in with the Exodus only served to make them more proud of their identity because they were associated with the only God who was able to break the back of the mighty Egyptians, a nation who was at the height of its power at the time of the Exodus.
Now that you know a little about the celebration of Passover, it’s time to put yourself in the shoes of the disciples. You’ve been following this Rabbi named Jesus around for a while and he’s done some pretty crazy things that make you think he has to be the real deal, but he has also said some outlandish things. You are also aware that all your religious leaders, the men you’ve been conditioned to trust and respect, hate the Rabbi you are following and think he is a total nut case. Then, in the middle of your Passover celebration, that time when you are celebrating Christmas, Easter, Independence Day, New Year’s Day, and freedom from slavery all at the same time, Jesus takes some of the Unleavened Bread, meant to signify the haste with which the people would have to move as they fled their captors, and says, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Ouch. Have you ever heard someone say something that kind of makes you cringe in embarrassment for them because they’ve got it all wrong but they said it with such passion and conviction? I think that’s probably how the disciples felt when they heard Jesus say, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
It’s easy to see why the religious leaders wanted to kill Jesus. He, a mere man, was usurping the place of God, and the law clearly states that anyone who claims to be God is to be put to death. The Passover was meant to celebrate God, not some man.
I used to think the Pharisees and teachers of the law were total idiots, but now I ask myself how I would feel about a pastor telling his followers that Easter is really about him. I’d think he was crazy, call him a heretic, say hateful things about him, and wish he’d go away. And I’d probably want him killed the same way the religious leaders wanted Jesus killed, although I’d dress it up in pious talk like, “If only the Lord would take him from the earth.”
Now imagine that you get together every year to celebrate the killing of a lamb and the smearing of its blood in order to have the wrath of God pass over you. Well, actually, it shouldn’t be too hard to imagine. We call it Easter. In fact, in the early church, the imagery most used to describe Christ’s sacrifice was the Passover.
Passover and the associated Festival of Unleavened Bread was a seven day holiday. “You must remember this day forever. Each year you will celebrate it as a special festival to the LORD. For seven days, you may eat only bread made without yeast…. No work of any kind may be done on these days except in the preparation of food.” Those who failed to observe the seven day holiday were cut off from the Israelite people.
Also associated with the whole Passover event was the birth of the nation Israel. Immediately after leaving Egypt, the people made their way to Mt. Sinai, and it was there that God made a nation out of that rag-tag bunch of slaves. Prior to this, although there was the promise of a great nation, there technically was no nation Israel. Thus, Passover became for the Israelites what Independence Day is for Americans. Note that it was also to be the beginning of their year, so it was like our New Year’s Day as well.
The giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai was remembered by the nation as a very significant time in their history. So when the people are delivered from slavery and given Torah they are given the ability to function as a nation. Americans don’t usually think of our nation’s constitution as some sort of lame piece of boring legalism that has nothing to do with us. Rather, we think of it as a document that guarantees our freedom and liberty. The same was true of the ancient Israelites when they thought of the law. It was what gave them identity and set them apart in their world. It gave them a sense of unity and common purpose, and the fact that it was tied in with the Exodus only served to make them more proud of their identity because they were associated with the only God who was able to break the back of the mighty Egyptians, a nation who was at the height of its power at the time of the Exodus.
Now that you know a little about the celebration of Passover, it’s time to put yourself in the shoes of the disciples. You’ve been following this Rabbi named Jesus around for a while and he’s done some pretty crazy things that make you think he has to be the real deal, but he has also said some outlandish things. You are also aware that all your religious leaders, the men you’ve been conditioned to trust and respect, hate the Rabbi you are following and think he is a total nut case. Then, in the middle of your Passover celebration, that time when you are celebrating Christmas, Easter, Independence Day, New Year’s Day, and freedom from slavery all at the same time, Jesus takes some of the Unleavened Bread, meant to signify the haste with which the people would have to move as they fled their captors, and says, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Ouch. Have you ever heard someone say something that kind of makes you cringe in embarrassment for them because they’ve got it all wrong but they said it with such passion and conviction? I think that’s probably how the disciples felt when they heard Jesus say, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
It’s easy to see why the religious leaders wanted to kill Jesus. He, a mere man, was usurping the place of God, and the law clearly states that anyone who claims to be God is to be put to death. The Passover was meant to celebrate God, not some man.
I used to think the Pharisees and teachers of the law were total idiots, but now I ask myself how I would feel about a pastor telling his followers that Easter is really about him. I’d think he was crazy, call him a heretic, say hateful things about him, and wish he’d go away. And I’d probably want him killed the same way the religious leaders wanted Jesus killed, although I’d dress it up in pious talk like, “If only the Lord would take him from the earth.”
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Jephthah
One of the more confusing stories in the Bible is the story of Jephthah recorded in Judges 11. In it, Jephthah claims that if God will give him victory over the Ammonites then he will offer up whatever comes out of the door of his house to meet him as a burnt offering. Unfortunately, what came out of his house to meet him was his daughter.
In my opinion, this is a dramatic story about submission (or lack thereof) to the revealed will of YHWH. Why? Because Jephthah could have redeemed his daughter for 10 shekels of silver if only he'd known torah (Lev 27:5).
Jephthah was commended in Hebrews 11 not for his upright lifestyle or his knowledge of torah but for his faith displayed in his defeat of the Ammonites. It's important to make this distinction because I have observed a tendency to assume that everything Jephthah did is commended in Hebrews, and this is simply not the case. He is nowhere commended in Scripture for the sacrifice of his daughter. Instead, the sacrifice of his daughter was a violation of torah given as a striking example of what can happen when everyone is doing what is right in their own eyes (Jdg 21:25).
In the narrative itself we are warned that something is going to go wrong, but the warning is subtle. In Jephthah's speech, Jephthah makes several mistakes that clue the reader in to the fact that Jephthah doesn't have all his ducks in a row. He calls the Ammonite God Chemosh (it was actually Molek); he calls the Moabite God Molek (it was actually Chemosh); he introduces contradictions to the narrative given by
Joshua (Josh 24), and he demonstrates bad theology when he says the Ammonites should take what their God has given them (ascribing YHWH's works to another).
These mistakes in Jephthah's speech are meant to serve as clues, foreshadowing the fact that at some point he is going to do something really stupid. When we come to the bit about his daughter, the alert
listener/reader is clamoring, "Redeem her, you fool! Redeem her!" However, Jephthah doesn't know his torah, and the innocent die, and a warning is subtly issued to know torah.
In my opinion, this is a dramatic story about submission (or lack thereof) to the revealed will of YHWH. Why? Because Jephthah could have redeemed his daughter for 10 shekels of silver if only he'd known torah (Lev 27:5).
Jephthah was commended in Hebrews 11 not for his upright lifestyle or his knowledge of torah but for his faith displayed in his defeat of the Ammonites. It's important to make this distinction because I have observed a tendency to assume that everything Jephthah did is commended in Hebrews, and this is simply not the case. He is nowhere commended in Scripture for the sacrifice of his daughter. Instead, the sacrifice of his daughter was a violation of torah given as a striking example of what can happen when everyone is doing what is right in their own eyes (Jdg 21:25).
In the narrative itself we are warned that something is going to go wrong, but the warning is subtle. In Jephthah's speech, Jephthah makes several mistakes that clue the reader in to the fact that Jephthah doesn't have all his ducks in a row. He calls the Ammonite God Chemosh (it was actually Molek); he calls the Moabite God Molek (it was actually Chemosh); he introduces contradictions to the narrative given by
Joshua (Josh 24), and he demonstrates bad theology when he says the Ammonites should take what their God has given them (ascribing YHWH's works to another).
These mistakes in Jephthah's speech are meant to serve as clues, foreshadowing the fact that at some point he is going to do something really stupid. When we come to the bit about his daughter, the alert
listener/reader is clamoring, "Redeem her, you fool! Redeem her!" However, Jephthah doesn't know his torah, and the innocent die, and a warning is subtly issued to know torah.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Liver Omens and Prophecy
One of the main ways people determined the will of the gods in the ancient Near East was through extispicy, the examination of sheep entrails, particularly the liver. For example, “If the right side of the heart of the liver is held by filaments, the anger of the god against the man is not ended.” “If the gall bladder is missing, it is good.” “If the gall bladder is full and its liquid is yellow, a cloudburst is coming.” And how ‘bout this one: “If the gall bladder is held in place, the lord of the land will die.” This process of seeking the will of the deity was ultimately open to manipulation because the prophet or divinator could seek until he got the answer he wanted to hear.
In the Old Testament, God did not want his people to use omens to determine his will. This is why Leviticus commands the Israelites to burn the entrails on the altar. Rather, he said he would raise up prophets who could tell the people his will in specific situations. Deuteronomy says, “The nations you will dispossess listen to those who practice sorcery and divination. But as for you, the Lord your God has not permitted you to do so. The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, form your own people. You must listen to him.”
God was concerned that people knew his will and knew how to apply his torah, his instruction, to their daily lives. But he wanted to remove the potential for manipulation of the process, so he gave the Israelites prophets. Prophets were not fortune tellers or future-predictors (even though they sometimes spoke of future events). They were God’s spokespeople, sent to deliver God’s messages to his people.
In the Old Testament, God did not want his people to use omens to determine his will. This is why Leviticus commands the Israelites to burn the entrails on the altar. Rather, he said he would raise up prophets who could tell the people his will in specific situations. Deuteronomy says, “The nations you will dispossess listen to those who practice sorcery and divination. But as for you, the Lord your God has not permitted you to do so. The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, form your own people. You must listen to him.”
God was concerned that people knew his will and knew how to apply his torah, his instruction, to their daily lives. But he wanted to remove the potential for manipulation of the process, so he gave the Israelites prophets. Prophets were not fortune tellers or future-predictors (even though they sometimes spoke of future events). They were God’s spokespeople, sent to deliver God’s messages to his people.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Cleanse the Tabernacle
After describing the so-called ‘sin’ offering, Leviticus chapter four ends with the statement: “In this way the priest will make atonement for [the worshiper] for the sin they have committed, and they will be forgiven.” A quick reading of that verse makes it sound like the sacrifice described in Leviticus was how a person obtained forgiveness of sins to obtain eternal life. This is most certainly NOT the case. Allow me to explain.
Leviticus four contains instructions for ‘atoning,’ but what does atone mean and what exactly is being atoned? Well, ‘atone’ simply means to cleanse and, contrary to what you might think, it is NOT the worshiper that is cleansed from sin in Leviticus four. Rather, it is God’s house, the tabernacle. How do we know? It comes down to the simple difference between two tiny Hebrew words: ‘al and ’et. ‘al means ‘on behalf of’ and ’et is used to mark the direct object of a verb, i.e., the thing that receives the action of the verb. In this case, what is cleansed.
The point here is that people are marked with the word ‘al and the tabernacle is marked with the word ’et. This means that a very literal translation of the end of Leviticus four is, “In this way the priest will cleanse [the tabernacle] on behalf of the worshiper for the sin he has committed, and he will be forgiven.”
But there’s more. The word ‘forgive’ here is not a general word the way we think of forgiveness. Rather, it is a technical word used only when there is a pre-existant relationship, and only the greater (say, for example, a king) may forgive a lesser (say, a king’s subject). Thus, the meaning of ‘and he will be forgiven’ is literally, ‘the pre-existent covenantal relationship will be restored.’
Let me give you that whole verse again: “By making the sacrifice described in Leviticus chapter four, the priest will cleanse the tabernacle on behalf of the worshiper because of the sin he has committed, and he will be restored in his relationship with God.”
When we import our New Testament understanding of atonement onto Leviticus, we too easily misunderstand the message of Leviticus, namely: Keep God’s House Clean. But when we start with the Old Testament and move toward the New (the way God did it), we see that Jesus’ blood cleanses US because WE are God’s house.
Leviticus four contains instructions for ‘atoning,’ but what does atone mean and what exactly is being atoned? Well, ‘atone’ simply means to cleanse and, contrary to what you might think, it is NOT the worshiper that is cleansed from sin in Leviticus four. Rather, it is God’s house, the tabernacle. How do we know? It comes down to the simple difference between two tiny Hebrew words: ‘al and ’et. ‘al means ‘on behalf of’ and ’et is used to mark the direct object of a verb, i.e., the thing that receives the action of the verb. In this case, what is cleansed.
The point here is that people are marked with the word ‘al and the tabernacle is marked with the word ’et. This means that a very literal translation of the end of Leviticus four is, “In this way the priest will cleanse [the tabernacle] on behalf of the worshiper for the sin he has committed, and he will be forgiven.”
But there’s more. The word ‘forgive’ here is not a general word the way we think of forgiveness. Rather, it is a technical word used only when there is a pre-existant relationship, and only the greater (say, for example, a king) may forgive a lesser (say, a king’s subject). Thus, the meaning of ‘and he will be forgiven’ is literally, ‘the pre-existent covenantal relationship will be restored.’
Let me give you that whole verse again: “By making the sacrifice described in Leviticus chapter four, the priest will cleanse the tabernacle on behalf of the worshiper because of the sin he has committed, and he will be restored in his relationship with God.”
When we import our New Testament understanding of atonement onto Leviticus, we too easily misunderstand the message of Leviticus, namely: Keep God’s House Clean. But when we start with the Old Testament and move toward the New (the way God did it), we see that Jesus’ blood cleanses US because WE are God’s house.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Rock Band
I tried the game Rock Band once and failed miserably. This video makes me feel better about that failure.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Donkey
In the movie Shrek 2, the character “Donkey” is characterized as a very lowly animal, not all that important. When a spell is cast, the donkey is changed into a royal steed. He becomes a beautiful, white, stately horse.
Would it surprise you to know that in Bible times, the donkey was viewed as the royal steed? We see this reflected in the Bible. For example, in Judges 8 Gideon is asked by the Israelites to be king. He says no, but later he has a change of heart. He names his son Abimalech, which means “my dad is king,” and we are told he had 70 sons of his own, and his 70 sons rode 70 donkeys. In other words, he treated his sons like royalty.
Or take Zechariah 9, which says, “See! Your king comes to you, riding on a donkey.” Of course he’s riding on a donkey. That’s the royal steed!
So, when Jesus is about to enter Jerusalem, he sends 2 of his disciples to find a donkey that is tied up and that no one has ever ridden, and he tells them to untie it and bring it to him. They do this, and Jesus rides the donkey into Jerusalem. Why? Not because he’s being lowly and humble on a donkey, but because he’s declaring himself KING. And those who went ahead of him knew what he was doing. They shouted, “Hosanna!! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our Father David.” The people understood that Jesus was entering Jerusalem as a king.
Would it surprise you to know that in Bible times, the donkey was viewed as the royal steed? We see this reflected in the Bible. For example, in Judges 8 Gideon is asked by the Israelites to be king. He says no, but later he has a change of heart. He names his son Abimalech, which means “my dad is king,” and we are told he had 70 sons of his own, and his 70 sons rode 70 donkeys. In other words, he treated his sons like royalty.
Or take Zechariah 9, which says, “See! Your king comes to you, riding on a donkey.” Of course he’s riding on a donkey. That’s the royal steed!
So, when Jesus is about to enter Jerusalem, he sends 2 of his disciples to find a donkey that is tied up and that no one has ever ridden, and he tells them to untie it and bring it to him. They do this, and Jesus rides the donkey into Jerusalem. Why? Not because he’s being lowly and humble on a donkey, but because he’s declaring himself KING. And those who went ahead of him knew what he was doing. They shouted, “Hosanna!! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our Father David.” The people understood that Jesus was entering Jerusalem as a king.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Great Commission
“Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, teaching them to obey everything I’ve commanded you.” That’s a famous phrase you’ve probably heard, spoken by Jesus and recorded at the end of Matthew. Did you know the concept is present at the very beginning of the Bible? Gen. 1 tells us that we were created in the image and likeness of God. In the ancient near east, to be created in image and likeness was the same as being created as little statues that God would place around the globe as symbols of his dominion. And when man was created, he was given two primary tasks: To rule over God’s creation, and to be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. So when God tells us to be fruitful and multiply, it’s a lot like the end of Matthew. As I like to jokingly tell my students, there’s nothing new in the New Testament!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Function
When we hear that God created, we have a tendency to think that God made something out of nothing. This is because of our western heritage and is reflected in the gospel of John, which says, “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.”
However, in Old Testament times, the primary idea of creation was not making something out of nothing, but bringing order out of chaos by assigning function. For example, Enki and the World Order, a Sumerian story from before 2000 B.C., tells of the way the creator god brought order to the zones of the earth by assigning them functions such as agriculture or engineering. In the same way, Genesis 1 tells us that God made two big lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. Those are their functions.
When God created humans, he gave them a purpose, a function, a destiny. He said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let him rule over the fish, the livestock, the birds, and the wild animals.” God created man with the purpose of dominion. It’s our job to care for creation, right from the start.
However, in Old Testament times, the primary idea of creation was not making something out of nothing, but bringing order out of chaos by assigning function. For example, Enki and the World Order, a Sumerian story from before 2000 B.C., tells of the way the creator god brought order to the zones of the earth by assigning them functions such as agriculture or engineering. In the same way, Genesis 1 tells us that God made two big lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. Those are their functions.
When God created humans, he gave them a purpose, a function, a destiny. He said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let him rule over the fish, the livestock, the birds, and the wild animals.” God created man with the purpose of dominion. It’s our job to care for creation, right from the start.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Image of God
In Gen. 1, we’re told that we were created in the image of God. Much ink has been spilled about what it means to be created in the image of God. To the philosopher, it means we’ve been endowed with the ability to reason and to use logic. To the artist, it means we’ve been given creativity and the ability to appreciate beauty. In fact, we have a tendency to create a meaning for “the image of God” in our own image.
But what would ancient Israelites likely think about when they heard they were made in the “image of God?” Well, when ancient kings would go conquering, in order to extend their dominion beyond their own borders, they would often have an image of themselves set up in the temple of the town they conquered.
For example, this nearly life-sized statue was found in an ancient temple. It tells us that it’s the image and likeness of the king, used to represent his rule or dominion in the foreign land. From an ancient near eastern perspective, to be told that we’re created in the image and likeness of God is to be told that we are God’s little statues, that he has placed on the earth as a representation of his dominion. When tells Adam and Eve to be fruitful and multiply, he’s saying, “YOU statue of God, extend my dominion, my sovereignty, into the furthest reaches of the earth.”
But what would ancient Israelites likely think about when they heard they were made in the “image of God?” Well, when ancient kings would go conquering, in order to extend their dominion beyond their own borders, they would often have an image of themselves set up in the temple of the town they conquered.
For example, this nearly life-sized statue was found in an ancient temple. It tells us that it’s the image and likeness of the king, used to represent his rule or dominion in the foreign land. From an ancient near eastern perspective, to be told that we’re created in the image and likeness of God is to be told that we are God’s little statues, that he has placed on the earth as a representation of his dominion. When tells Adam and Eve to be fruitful and multiply, he’s saying, “YOU statue of God, extend my dominion, my sovereignty, into the furthest reaches of the earth.”
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I AM
When did Jesus claim to be God? I mean, it's easy to think of passages where other people called him God (especially Paul), but when did Jesus make the claim himself?
Well, I’ll give you an example, but to do so I have to go back to the beginning. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and void, and the spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the deep.” The image is one of a watery chaos, a common starting point for ancient Near Eastern creation stories. For example, in the Babylonian creation story, a god has to do battle against the watery chaos. In the Bible creation story, God is simply hovering over the waters, the way a mother hen would hover over her eggs… Fast forward to Exodus 3. When Moses asks God his name, God says, “I AM has sent you.” Fast forward again, this time to Exodus 33. After the miraculous release from slavery, after the Israelites have received torah at Mount Sinai, while wandering around the wilderness, Moses says to God, “Show me your glory.” So God tells Moses, “When I pass you by, you will see my glory.” Fast forward one last time, to the time of Jesus, when he sends his disciples out on the lake. The weather turns sour, the waves kick up, the disciples are straining at the oars, and there’s Jesus, strolling on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but they got terrified, and he stops and says “Take courage! I AM. Don’t be afraid!”
Jesus takes the image of the spirit of God hovering over the watery chaos, the image of God passing by Moses, and he calls himself, “I AM.” Put all that together and, well…you get the point.
Well, I’ll give you an example, but to do so I have to go back to the beginning. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and void, and the spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the deep.” The image is one of a watery chaos, a common starting point for ancient Near Eastern creation stories. For example, in the Babylonian creation story, a god has to do battle against the watery chaos. In the Bible creation story, God is simply hovering over the waters, the way a mother hen would hover over her eggs… Fast forward to Exodus 3. When Moses asks God his name, God says, “I AM has sent you.” Fast forward again, this time to Exodus 33. After the miraculous release from slavery, after the Israelites have received torah at Mount Sinai, while wandering around the wilderness, Moses says to God, “Show me your glory.” So God tells Moses, “When I pass you by, you will see my glory.” Fast forward one last time, to the time of Jesus, when he sends his disciples out on the lake. The weather turns sour, the waves kick up, the disciples are straining at the oars, and there’s Jesus, strolling on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but they got terrified, and he stops and says “Take courage! I AM. Don’t be afraid!”
Jesus takes the image of the spirit of God hovering over the watery chaos, the image of God passing by Moses, and he calls himself, “I AM.” Put all that together and, well…you get the point.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Lights
In the ancient near east, the sun and the moon were considered deities. This is a picture of the sun god that dates from the neo-Babylonian period, roughly the 9th century B.C. In front of the deity is his symbol, the sun disc, and the king is being led in before the god in order to worship him. In ancient near eastern creation stories, after an introductory description of the watery chaotic state, the first thing the main god would create is other gods, and it’s important to remember that in the ancient near east, the sun and the moon are deities. But what happens in Genesis? Right at the point where other creation stories tell about the creation of other deities, we’re told that God created two great lights, a greater light and a lesser light, and that he set them in the expanse of the sky. What we have to notice is that the sun and the moon are not named. Why? Because to name them would sound an awful lot like the big god is creating lesser gods, namely the sun and moon. Why? Because the words ‘sun’ and ‘moon’ are the names of other gods. Right away, we’re told that God didn’t need to create lesser gods to help him organize and govern the universe.
To us, maybe that doesn’t mean much, but to an ancient near eastern mind, this is radical.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Rephaim
In the O.T. there are these characters called the Rephaim. They are the “shades of the dead,” deceased heroes of old. Spoken of in other ancient near eastern cultures, as well as in the Old Testament, they are sort of like the Undead Army in the Lord of the Rings. In Ugaritic, a language similar to Hebrew, texts dating from near the time of Moses tell of the Rephaim:
“Come, O man of the funeral feast, to my house,
O Rephaim, into my house I invite you, I call you,
O divine ones, to my temple.”
After him the Rephaim surely come,
After him verily come the divine ones.”
As you can see, in Ugaritic the Rephaim were treated as though they were divine.
From a later period, roughly the 5th century B.C., Phoenician texts such as this sarcophagus—a stone, human-shaped coffin—speak of the Rephaim, warning away grave robbers. “And if you open my cover and disturb me, may you have no offspring among the living under the sun or a resting place with the Rephaim.”
With this backdrop in mind, take a look at how the bible talks about the Rephaim. Proverbs 9 says that Lady Folly “sits at the door of her house calling out to those who pass by. But the one who listens does not know that the Rephaim are there, that her guests are in the depths of the grave.”
Of course, God alone has the power to raise the dead, to bring to life the Rephaim and those who keep their company. As Isaiah says, “Oh, let Your dead revive! Let corpses arise! Awake and shout for joy, you who dwell in the dust! [Lord,] You make the land of the Rephaim come to life.”
“Come, O man of the funeral feast, to my house,
O Rephaim, into my house I invite you, I call you,
O divine ones, to my temple.”
After him the Rephaim surely come,
After him verily come the divine ones.”
As you can see, in Ugaritic the Rephaim were treated as though they were divine.
From a later period, roughly the 5th century B.C., Phoenician texts such as this sarcophagus—a stone, human-shaped coffin—speak of the Rephaim, warning away grave robbers. “And if you open my cover and disturb me, may you have no offspring among the living under the sun or a resting place with the Rephaim.”
With this backdrop in mind, take a look at how the bible talks about the Rephaim. Proverbs 9 says that Lady Folly “sits at the door of her house calling out to those who pass by. But the one who listens does not know that the Rephaim are there, that her guests are in the depths of the grave.”
Of course, God alone has the power to raise the dead, to bring to life the Rephaim and those who keep their company. As Isaiah says, “Oh, let Your dead revive! Let corpses arise! Awake and shout for joy, you who dwell in the dust! [Lord,] You make the land of the Rephaim come to life.”
Friday, July 16, 2010
British Open
The British Open is at St. Andrews this week. I was at St. Andrews last summer for a conference (Genesis and Christian Theology) and since the town doesn't have any trespassing laws I went strolling along the course, including a quick walk across Swilcan Bridge, estimated to be some 700-800 years old. Truly a magnificent place.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Ridicule of Hope
It seems odd to say, especially to an American, that as a culture we ridicule hope. But I think there’s something to it.
As a nation, we are good at remembering, but this can be a tow-edged sword. When a soldier facing battle calls upon national memory, is it images of Iwo Jima that stir to action or recollection of the debase inhumanity of the jungles of Vietnam? In the same way, when we sit in our staff and elder meetings, do we remember that we serve the God who released the slaves from Egypt and rose Jesus from the dead, or do we remember the last program that floundered despite the time, emotional energy, and financial resources we dumped into it? Or perhaps, most crippling of all, we busily recollect what God did twenty years ago, wandering why he’s done nothing since, unable to own up to the fact that in our minds we’ve been riding past success while around us the world is dying and our ministries are crumbling for lack of new life.
All too well I remember the pain of sitting in meetings listening to long-time members bemoan the fact that twenty years earlier God worked in mighty ways through a building project at the church. People gave sacrificially, many taking out second mortgages on their homes to free up money to give to the project, others giving valuable time and energy to use their skills to help with construction, maintenance, or anything their hands could find to do. I naively thought that this would be the very memories that would stir to action in a desperate hope to see God do it again. Instead, it turned out to be nothing more than the screen behind which to hide from any hope for the future. Like the tired, middle-aged man losing the love and affection of his teenage daughters because he’s too wrapped up in the “glory days” of high-school and college ball to see the joy right in front of him, so the Christian who has forgotten what it’s like to be a Christ-follower, unwilling to hope that God could do it again, all the while losing the affections of the young people in the church but complaining to the youth pastor about “kids these days.” Hope is unwanted because it requires new action.
Speaking personally, I would rather sit in my easy chair and take phone calls from people telling me what a great sermon I gave last week than get on my knees before the sun comes up desperately seeking God’s face for the message he wants to bring next week to a hurting, dying world.
Hope also requires risk. What if it doesn’t work out? It’s so much easier and, even more compelling, safer to either rest on what I have or feel sorry for myself for what I don’t have than to engage in the risky business of hope. A friend of mine has trouble even praying for God to give her anything, even things she knows from the Bible God wants her to have, because asking God for something would mean risking the disappointment of not getting it. It’s easier for her to not hope, and therefore not ask, than to take the risk involved in hoping for a better future. Besides, the present isn’t so bad, so why not just be content? (There’s a fine line between contentment and complacency.) It sounds so spiritual, but after years of not hoping, she’s having to come to grips with the fact that her fear has crippled her.
As a nation, we are good at remembering, but this can be a tow-edged sword. When a soldier facing battle calls upon national memory, is it images of Iwo Jima that stir to action or recollection of the debase inhumanity of the jungles of Vietnam? In the same way, when we sit in our staff and elder meetings, do we remember that we serve the God who released the slaves from Egypt and rose Jesus from the dead, or do we remember the last program that floundered despite the time, emotional energy, and financial resources we dumped into it? Or perhaps, most crippling of all, we busily recollect what God did twenty years ago, wandering why he’s done nothing since, unable to own up to the fact that in our minds we’ve been riding past success while around us the world is dying and our ministries are crumbling for lack of new life.
All too well I remember the pain of sitting in meetings listening to long-time members bemoan the fact that twenty years earlier God worked in mighty ways through a building project at the church. People gave sacrificially, many taking out second mortgages on their homes to free up money to give to the project, others giving valuable time and energy to use their skills to help with construction, maintenance, or anything their hands could find to do. I naively thought that this would be the very memories that would stir to action in a desperate hope to see God do it again. Instead, it turned out to be nothing more than the screen behind which to hide from any hope for the future. Like the tired, middle-aged man losing the love and affection of his teenage daughters because he’s too wrapped up in the “glory days” of high-school and college ball to see the joy right in front of him, so the Christian who has forgotten what it’s like to be a Christ-follower, unwilling to hope that God could do it again, all the while losing the affections of the young people in the church but complaining to the youth pastor about “kids these days.” Hope is unwanted because it requires new action.
Speaking personally, I would rather sit in my easy chair and take phone calls from people telling me what a great sermon I gave last week than get on my knees before the sun comes up desperately seeking God’s face for the message he wants to bring next week to a hurting, dying world.
Hope also requires risk. What if it doesn’t work out? It’s so much easier and, even more compelling, safer to either rest on what I have or feel sorry for myself for what I don’t have than to engage in the risky business of hope. A friend of mine has trouble even praying for God to give her anything, even things she knows from the Bible God wants her to have, because asking God for something would mean risking the disappointment of not getting it. It’s easier for her to not hope, and therefore not ask, than to take the risk involved in hoping for a better future. Besides, the present isn’t so bad, so why not just be content? (There’s a fine line between contentment and complacency.) It sounds so spiritual, but after years of not hoping, she’s having to come to grips with the fact that her fear has crippled her.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
christotainment
Part of what Willow's Reveal survey showed is that dumping resources into production--the Sunday morning "show"--is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, we desire to give God our best and represent him well. If we show up on Sunday morning and offer up music we haven't rehearsed and a sermon that isn't well prepared, we dishonor God and seekers walk away thinking that the God we tout as worthy of our all isn't even worthy of above-minimal effort. In this our actions really do speak louder than our preaching.
The flip side, though, is that when we put all our eggs into the basket of the Sunday morning production we inadvertently give in to one of the biggest ills of our culture and biggest threats to spiritual maturity--consumerism.
How do we strike a balance between christotainment and bland irrelevance?
The flip side, though, is that when we put all our eggs into the basket of the Sunday morning production we inadvertently give in to one of the biggest ills of our culture and biggest threats to spiritual maturity--consumerism.
How do we strike a balance between christotainment and bland irrelevance?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Have It Your Way
No problem if it’s about a burger. If I’m getting a burger and I don’t want any pickles on it, then by all means I’m going to “Have it my way” and hold the pickles. But sometimes, at least for me, this is nothing more than a microcosm of the larger “root” issue of selfishness and self-indulgence. The problem occurs when I'm confronted with an opportunity to serve or put someone else first. The honest truth is I usually opt for having it my way, which does not ultimately satisfy, despite the claim to joy implicit in the phrase, “Have it your way.”
Monday, July 12, 2010
Rainbow
Today I saw the most amazing rainbow out over Lake Michigan. It got me thinking about God putting his bow in the clouds after the flood (Genesis 9). It was hard for me to look at that rainbow and not be impressed, and I think that's the point. Bows were used in treaty making ceremonies as a way for a sovereign to say, "I beat you up and now I'm ready to come to terms...but you better remember who's in charge." In the same way, God put his bow in the sky when he made his treaty with Noah....
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Religion of Order
The following are some thoughts I had after reading the first chapter of Walter Brueggemann's The Prophetic Imagination.
What does it mean to have a “religion of order,” or, as Brueggemann calls it, a religion of static triumphalism? Well, first of all, everything is nice and tidy when we worship a God of order. I can write off the drunk guy on the corner because his life represents chaos, and I serve the God of order. I can safely ignore the young people who want to change things in my church because things might get messy or disorganized, and I serve the God of order. Sure, God brought order out of chaos when he created the world. Sure, God brings order to the chaos of my life. But it is one thing to say God brings order out of chaos, and entirely different to say that God is a God of order.
What do I mean? Well, if God is a God of order, how do you explain the chaos he brought into the life of Job? If God is a God of order, how do you explain him using a fish to swallow a man who refuses to obey? If God is a God of order, why does fire and thunder and lightning accompany his presence at Sinai? Why does he appear to Moses in a bush that is on fire but doesn’t burn up? After all, doesn’t order demand that something on fire burns? Most of all, how do you explain the Spirit of God as a wind that blows where it will? Is this not a perfect picture of disorder? (Or, at the very least, that God can’t be manipulated.) Isn’t the point of that statement the unpredictability of God? Sure, God is dependable, but is that really the same as predictable? I don’t think it is.
It is this issue of predictability that is really at the root of worshipping a God of order. That which is ordered is utterly predictable, and that which is predictable can be manipulated—the core of idolatry. Idolatry was never primarily about making images out of gold or wood. This was only a symptom of the disease. The disease was manipulating deity. If I can craft a god with my hands and set it up in my home, I have exerted control over the deity. If I am responsible for feeding or caring for the idol, something the ancients believed, then I can again exert some control over the deity. If I keep him or her well fed, then he should bless me with children or good crops. If my crops go bad or if there is drought or famine then I know the deity is displeased and I go out of my way to pacify him. In the end it’s all very ordered and predictable, that is, it’s idolatrous.
What does this have to do with us who have never made an image? Well, have you ever had any of these thoughts: “I’ve done good this week, God should bless me.” “I’ve been having my quiet time regularly, so God is supposed to make things go well.” “I’ve been missing my quiet time, so God doesn’t like me right now.” “I’m afraid to drive today because I looked at pornography last night so God has removed his protection from me.” “I’ve hit every red light, God must be mad at me.” All of these thoughts are idolatry. Why? Because they assume that God has to act in certain ways as a result of our behavior. This is manipulating God, and the God of the Bible refuses to be manipulated. Yes, he often chooses to bless us in response to our obedience, but this is his choice.
We even use Scripture to manipulate God. Have you ever thought that you could make your children believe by teaching them all the right things? After all, didn’t God say, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it?” Do you know the pain of wondering what you did wrong because your child has rejected God? As lovingly as I can I want to tell you that that is idolatry. God will not be manipulated by your good works. David was a “man after God’s own heart” but most of his kids were creeps. The proverb quoted above is just that—a proverb, a generalization. This is different than a promise—it’s a statement of what is generally, not always, true. Notice that no parent in scripture is ever held responsible for the actions of his children. Even Eli, whose sons were wicked, was judged not for the actions of his sons but for his action of not holding them accountable.
I had lunch today with a friend of mine whose twenty-something daughter has shown no interest in Jesus. He admitted to me that he and his wife have been tempted to look back and try and figure out what they did wrong. Then he told me, “But we just can’t go there.” He’s a practical guy, and he recognizes that there’s no benefit to getting stuck in a myriad of doubts that can’t be resolved. But more than that, he went on to say, “I can’t be Jesus in her life.” Wow. He gets it. He sees that ultimately it’s God who draws people to himself, and no matter what he does or how much we pray for his daughter he can’t force her to faith or demand that God act in a certain way. He can “be Jesus in her life” in the sense of loving her and caring deeply for her, but he can’t save her. Only God can save.
What does it mean to have a “religion of order,” or, as Brueggemann calls it, a religion of static triumphalism? Well, first of all, everything is nice and tidy when we worship a God of order. I can write off the drunk guy on the corner because his life represents chaos, and I serve the God of order. I can safely ignore the young people who want to change things in my church because things might get messy or disorganized, and I serve the God of order. Sure, God brought order out of chaos when he created the world. Sure, God brings order to the chaos of my life. But it is one thing to say God brings order out of chaos, and entirely different to say that God is a God of order.
What do I mean? Well, if God is a God of order, how do you explain the chaos he brought into the life of Job? If God is a God of order, how do you explain him using a fish to swallow a man who refuses to obey? If God is a God of order, why does fire and thunder and lightning accompany his presence at Sinai? Why does he appear to Moses in a bush that is on fire but doesn’t burn up? After all, doesn’t order demand that something on fire burns? Most of all, how do you explain the Spirit of God as a wind that blows where it will? Is this not a perfect picture of disorder? (Or, at the very least, that God can’t be manipulated.) Isn’t the point of that statement the unpredictability of God? Sure, God is dependable, but is that really the same as predictable? I don’t think it is.
It is this issue of predictability that is really at the root of worshipping a God of order. That which is ordered is utterly predictable, and that which is predictable can be manipulated—the core of idolatry. Idolatry was never primarily about making images out of gold or wood. This was only a symptom of the disease. The disease was manipulating deity. If I can craft a god with my hands and set it up in my home, I have exerted control over the deity. If I am responsible for feeding or caring for the idol, something the ancients believed, then I can again exert some control over the deity. If I keep him or her well fed, then he should bless me with children or good crops. If my crops go bad or if there is drought or famine then I know the deity is displeased and I go out of my way to pacify him. In the end it’s all very ordered and predictable, that is, it’s idolatrous.
What does this have to do with us who have never made an image? Well, have you ever had any of these thoughts: “I’ve done good this week, God should bless me.” “I’ve been having my quiet time regularly, so God is supposed to make things go well.” “I’ve been missing my quiet time, so God doesn’t like me right now.” “I’m afraid to drive today because I looked at pornography last night so God has removed his protection from me.” “I’ve hit every red light, God must be mad at me.” All of these thoughts are idolatry. Why? Because they assume that God has to act in certain ways as a result of our behavior. This is manipulating God, and the God of the Bible refuses to be manipulated. Yes, he often chooses to bless us in response to our obedience, but this is his choice.
We even use Scripture to manipulate God. Have you ever thought that you could make your children believe by teaching them all the right things? After all, didn’t God say, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it?” Do you know the pain of wondering what you did wrong because your child has rejected God? As lovingly as I can I want to tell you that that is idolatry. God will not be manipulated by your good works. David was a “man after God’s own heart” but most of his kids were creeps. The proverb quoted above is just that—a proverb, a generalization. This is different than a promise—it’s a statement of what is generally, not always, true. Notice that no parent in scripture is ever held responsible for the actions of his children. Even Eli, whose sons were wicked, was judged not for the actions of his sons but for his action of not holding them accountable.
I had lunch today with a friend of mine whose twenty-something daughter has shown no interest in Jesus. He admitted to me that he and his wife have been tempted to look back and try and figure out what they did wrong. Then he told me, “But we just can’t go there.” He’s a practical guy, and he recognizes that there’s no benefit to getting stuck in a myriad of doubts that can’t be resolved. But more than that, he went on to say, “I can’t be Jesus in her life.” Wow. He gets it. He sees that ultimately it’s God who draws people to himself, and no matter what he does or how much we pray for his daughter he can’t force her to faith or demand that God act in a certain way. He can “be Jesus in her life” in the sense of loving her and caring deeply for her, but he can’t save her. Only God can save.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)