March 19, 2016
Dear T,
I’ve been thinking about you lately and wondering whether you’re “the one.” I know, I know… it’s a little early for all of that, but my mind has a tendency to escape the chaos of the present moment in favor of organizing the future into picket fences and lakeside retirement cottages. This week in my Old Testament course materials, I’ve been reading about the prophets of the post-exilic era (the mid-500s BCE) after the Hebrew people from the Judean (southern) kingdom had been carted off to Babylon only to see their fortunes reversed when the Persians conquered the erstwhile invaders. I imagine the Judeans/Israelites/Hebrews/Jews (whatever you want to call them) were a lot like me – trying to make sense of the chaos of their present moment by daydreaming about a future that is very much yet to come.
They might have been like me in another way, too: searching for “the one.” They were searching for a person to come and deliver, liberate, and restore them, in the words of my Professor. They were hoping for an anointed one, sent by their God (Yahweh), to do all of this. In a word, they were looking for a messiah. And that word has a lot of theological significance, referring as it does to a leader appointed and protected by God for the purpose of serving God’s people (Fried). Don’t worry – I don’t have nearly the same expectations of you!
Before King David (who was definitely the messiah for a time), priests and prophets were anointed of God and thus messiahs, like Elijah and his prophet successor Elisha, the high priest before him, and the kings who succeeded them (Fried). After David, every king (with very few exceptions) was anointed of God by the prophets, and thus became the messiah. In much of the prophetic tradition, (c.f. Ezekiel, 34:23-24) the messiah is expected to be someone who can unite the two nations of Judah and Israel. Naturally, this person should be a king from the line of David (Stanley, p.460). And yet, as it turns out, that’s not at all what happened.
What’s so interesting about the people’s hope and desperation is that, for the first time in the history recorded by the Hebrew Scriptures, “the one” they hoped to be their messiah-deliverer was an outsider – a non-Jew, a foreigner (LESTER). In the book of Isaiah, the prophet actually declares that Cyrus, a Persian emperor, is God’s messiah (Isaiah 45:1-7). [Note: Messiah literally means “anointed one” (Fried)]. This is a big deal, because the title messiah has always referred to a ruler of Judah, or the southern Kingdom (Fried). And yet, here they were in the mid-500s, after decades of misery, living alone in a foreign place, that they thought they had found the one. Cyrus the Persian (Fried), a warrior-king rapidly expanding his empire by defeating neighboring nations, had overcome the Babylonian empire. For the Hebrew people, the misery was bad enough that they were perfectly willing to set aside some of the prophetic expectation that the messiah would be an Israelite like them.
I guess this is where practicality comes in handy for making sense of the disconnect between the theological and prophetic expectations and the reality of a messy world (pay attention, this could apply to us). Practically speaking, the messiah had one important role: restoration. That’s right – the messiah really only (as if it were easy) needed to restore a lost people to the place where they feel complete and at home. Frankly, with that practical expectation in mind, it shouldn’t matter the nationality of the messiah. And with the misery and messiness that defined their life in exile, it’s no surprise that messiah theology could be co-opted by the people out of their own self-interest to apply to a foreign king. Heck, it happened with the pharaohs in Egypt (Fried) and in Babylon itself. And, if it’s true that the Jews were pretty polytheistic people, there had to be some amount of thinking, on the part of priests and proletariat, that Cyrus and his marauding band had the local gods on their side. Messiah: anointed by god, not just G-d (Fried).
In terms of fulfilling the messianic mandate, Cyrus didn’t do half bad. Measured against Moses, in fact, he did pretty well. Remember, the people already had a great example by which to measure their new messiah: their exodus from Egypt under Moses. My professor made an interesting observation about the parallels between the Egyptian and Babylonian exiles: in both cases, while the Israelites’ iniquities might have predicated their capitulation to foreign invaders, their continued enslavement was a product not of their faults (Lester). In a sense, despite restitution having already been made for their sins, they were still being held, necessitating not “repentance, forgiveness, or restitution, rather in their persecution, vindication and restoration” (Lester). Vindication and restoration were thus the actions required of Cyrus the Persian Messiah, anointed by some god, used by God (Yahweh), to deliver the people from this bondage. Seeing it clearly, the prophet Isaiah named Cyrus thusly (Isa 45:1), and when the people were given their permission to return to Jerusalem and restore their lives, the prophecy was fulfilled.
Considering the exile, the deportation, the loss of life, and the utter ruin of the Judean kingdom, it would be impossible to be a Jew who still believed that Jerusalem was invulnerable to outside influence (Bandstra, 340). That also means it’s likely that people were starting to adopt new theological interpretations about who the messiah could be. Interestingly, though, the interpretation and expectation about what the messiah would do didn’t change very much at all.
Ultimately, restoring of the people offered them a renewed relationship with Yahweh. And this is I guess why I brought you up to begin with. Don’t worry: I’m not expecting you to save me from anything (except maybe loneliness in old age, if it comes to that). I’ve never had a clear idea of who “the one” would be, but I’ve always known what it is I expect the “one” to do (don’t worry, it has nothing to do with vindication or restoration). For me, it’s about offering complementarity and, through partnership, a fuller and deeper knowledge of, and relationship with, the love of God. So, while I still think it’s strange to attach any messianic meaning to you at this point, I’m faithful that my “one” (if it’s you) will offer the same restoration of relationship with God that the Hebrew messiah has offered the Israelites for centuries.
Til soon!
Alex
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Week 6: Israel’s Monotheism Problem?
Reading the late, pre-exilic prophets this week has introduced me to a lot of the context surrounding the words of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Nahum, Habbakuk, and Zephaniah. For me, Jeremiah has always held a place of affirmation and hope because of the oft-quoted 29:11 verse “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for prosperity and not for disaster, plans to give you a future and hope.” And yet, when taken in context of Jeremiah’s very unpopular prophecy in Jerusalem to the last Judean kings before the start of the Babylonian exile, his message is hardly one of hope and prosperity. Ezekiel was in the same boat in Babylonia himself. Theologian and historian Barry Bandstra writes, “Both assumed essentially the same task: to convince their audience… not to delude themselves. Yhwh indeed would punish them for their iniquities, and Jerusalem would fall” (Bandstra, p.318).
As I have been ruminating on this interpretive shift, and what it means to hold faith and hope in tension with the reality of suffering and destruction (a lesson from the dissonant wisdom of previous weeks), I pushed myself to read an article by Christopher Rollston, a professor of the Old Testament. Rollston makes the very bold claim that monotheism was not a core tenet of ancient Hebrew religion. While pointing out that the Yahweh proscribes having “any other God before me (Yhwh),” (Exodus 20:3) the sentiment behind such an explicit recognition of other gods belies plausibility in polytheism in popular Israelite custom and tradition (Rollston, 96).
To support this claim, Rollston relies on a blend of supporting materials, namely biblical and epigraphic (i.e. physical inscriptions on buildings, coins, or other edifices). Texts from Mesopotamia and the Levant, which demonstrate the culture’s wide held polytheistic conceptions, lend credibility to his thesis, at least in part because of their geographic proximity to Israel (Rollston, 97). He reads the Hebrew Scriptures in their socio-contextual history, suggesting that the narrative of Israel’s creation captured in Genesis 11:31 supports its “birth” as emerging from the polytheistic culture surrounding it (and substantially so) (Rollston, 98). This larger culture was reflected in the states of Moab, Edom, and Ammon, all of which are mentioned (cursed) by Jeremiah for their profligate ways (c.f. Jer 32:35, 48:7, 49:1). That these non-monotheistic ways would be reflected in the beliefs and practices of the people in contravention of the Mosaic covenant should come as no surprise for the alert reader of Jeremiah’s jeremiad; he decried these very practices and prophesied judgment on the Judean kingdom for the same (Bandstra, p.333).
And this brings me back to the dissonance I’ve been observing/experiencing in what I read in the text, what I read about the text, and what I hold to be true based on my beliefs and what I’ve been taught. What I read in the text (i.e. the world presented to me through the narrative of the Biblical text) is similar in many respects to what I’ve been taught in my faith community (i.e. the Biblical narrative world presented to me as distilled through the lenses of more contemporary culture). That Rollston’s claim is hardly controversial in the field of biblical studies, in the words of Dr. Brooke Lester, would come as a pretty big shock to some of the folks in my faith community of the United Methodist Church.
Many of the people who were instrumental in my faith formation read the Bible in a literal way. For them, when the Decalogue proclaims the supremacy of Yahweh’s Lordship, it does so in a kind of vacuum that doesn’t recognize even the option that the Israelites could have had popular polytheistic views. Such a reading of the scripture would require the kind of critical and academic deeper dive that both the OOTLE 16 course and Rollston evidence. They are unsettling propositions, even to me, because they challenge the idea that God’s existence as “one and only” has been with at least one group of people (i.e. God’s people Israel) since time immemorial (i.e. the Creation). Notwithstanding that I’ve already accepted this last conception as allegorical, the monotheism of Israelite is something I’ve always taken for granted – despite clear evidence in the text itself that has invited this critical reading.
Reading Rollston’s article in light of Jeremiah and Ezekiel reminds me to be faithful to the God who is still being revealed to me, even now, after a couple decades of study and faith formation. While being challenged by Rollston and by the prophets (who, like Rollston in some contemporary churches today were deeply unpopular because of the ways they challenged the powers and principalities of their day), I cling to the hope ultimately found in Jeremiad Covenant: God is continuing to write God’s promise in our hearts, where true understanding may be found.
As I have been ruminating on this interpretive shift, and what it means to hold faith and hope in tension with the reality of suffering and destruction (a lesson from the dissonant wisdom of previous weeks), I pushed myself to read an article by Christopher Rollston, a professor of the Old Testament. Rollston makes the very bold claim that monotheism was not a core tenet of ancient Hebrew religion. While pointing out that the Yahweh proscribes having “any other God before me (Yhwh),” (Exodus 20:3) the sentiment behind such an explicit recognition of other gods belies plausibility in polytheism in popular Israelite custom and tradition (Rollston, 96).
To support this claim, Rollston relies on a blend of supporting materials, namely biblical and epigraphic (i.e. physical inscriptions on buildings, coins, or other edifices). Texts from Mesopotamia and the Levant, which demonstrate the culture’s wide held polytheistic conceptions, lend credibility to his thesis, at least in part because of their geographic proximity to Israel (Rollston, 97). He reads the Hebrew Scriptures in their socio-contextual history, suggesting that the narrative of Israel’s creation captured in Genesis 11:31 supports its “birth” as emerging from the polytheistic culture surrounding it (and substantially so) (Rollston, 98). This larger culture was reflected in the states of Moab, Edom, and Ammon, all of which are mentioned (cursed) by Jeremiah for their profligate ways (c.f. Jer 32:35, 48:7, 49:1). That these non-monotheistic ways would be reflected in the beliefs and practices of the people in contravention of the Mosaic covenant should come as no surprise for the alert reader of Jeremiah’s jeremiad; he decried these very practices and prophesied judgment on the Judean kingdom for the same (Bandstra, p.333).
And this brings me back to the dissonance I’ve been observing/experiencing in what I read in the text, what I read about the text, and what I hold to be true based on my beliefs and what I’ve been taught. What I read in the text (i.e. the world presented to me through the narrative of the Biblical text) is similar in many respects to what I’ve been taught in my faith community (i.e. the Biblical narrative world presented to me as distilled through the lenses of more contemporary culture). That Rollston’s claim is hardly controversial in the field of biblical studies, in the words of Dr. Brooke Lester, would come as a pretty big shock to some of the folks in my faith community of the United Methodist Church.
Many of the people who were instrumental in my faith formation read the Bible in a literal way. For them, when the Decalogue proclaims the supremacy of Yahweh’s Lordship, it does so in a kind of vacuum that doesn’t recognize even the option that the Israelites could have had popular polytheistic views. Such a reading of the scripture would require the kind of critical and academic deeper dive that both the OOTLE 16 course and Rollston evidence. They are unsettling propositions, even to me, because they challenge the idea that God’s existence as “one and only” has been with at least one group of people (i.e. God’s people Israel) since time immemorial (i.e. the Creation). Notwithstanding that I’ve already accepted this last conception as allegorical, the monotheism of Israelite is something I’ve always taken for granted – despite clear evidence in the text itself that has invited this critical reading.
Reading Rollston’s article in light of Jeremiah and Ezekiel reminds me to be faithful to the God who is still being revealed to me, even now, after a couple decades of study and faith formation. While being challenged by Rollston and by the prophets (who, like Rollston in some contemporary churches today were deeply unpopular because of the ways they challenged the powers and principalities of their day), I cling to the hope ultimately found in Jeremiad Covenant: God is continuing to write God’s promise in our hearts, where true understanding may be found.
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Week 5: God is One Angry Momma Bear
In this fifth week of my OOTLE16 course, I'm reading about the early pre exilic prophets from the Hebrew tradition. Hosea and Amos are two of those prophets whose prophetic ministries took them to the Northern Kingdom of Israel (remember, by the time of the 8th century, Israel proper had been split in two kingdoms, the north with a capital in Samaria and the south, Judah, with a capital in Jerusalem). While both prophets are deeply concerned with the deteriorating relationship between the kingdom (along with its people) and God, they express these concerns differently. For Hosea, according to Christopher Stanley, the "people of Israel have provoked Yahweh to anger by engaging in improper forms of worship" (Stanley, p.431).
In chapter 4 of the Book of Hosea (which is the longest of the twelve so-named prophetic books of the Hebrew scriptures), the prophet gives voice to Yahweh's concern, reading out a litany of (mis)deeds that have damned the people's relationship with their God: the people have no faithfulness, no loyalty, no knowledge of God in the land; they are a swearing, lying, murder, stealing and adulterous bunch, who will surely be destroyed because they don't know God and have forgotten God's law (Hos 4:1-6).
As if that weren't enough, though, there is a structural failure here, specifically by the religious authorities and namely the temple priests. The Theologian Marvin Sweeney writes that the "Israelite priesthood is the party responsible for Israel's failure to abide by its covenant (New Interpreter's Study Bible, p.1258). There are real accusations that God makes against God's people through Hosea regarding idol worship in chapters 10 and 13. In 10:4, God refers to the people as liars, saying "with empty oaths they make covenants." In 10:5, God predicts that their worship of a calf idol placed in the Samarian temple portends the doom of both the people and temple, predicting it will be carried away when Assyria sacks the whole city.
God continues through Hosea in 13:2, claiming the people "keep on sinning, and make a cast image for themselves... people are kissing calves." This is the same God who, in 13:4-8, describes saving them, delivering them from Egypt, and being their only saving God. God is incredulous at this people who, in 13:6, have forgotten God entirely: "While I fed them, they were satisfied, and their heart was proud; therefore they forgot me." God's wrath awaits them in 13:8, like a momma bear robbed of her cubs.
These are the ultimate costs of the people's actions, who have forgotten their saving God and have turned instead to adopt the cultic religious practices of their neighbors and fearful (and eventual) conquerers to the north, the Assyrians. In turning away, Hosea makes clear in chapter 8 that Israel has violated its covenant by seeking out these kings and sanctuaries which God had never authorized and not intended as part of God's perfect plan for God's people: "They made kings, but not through me; they set up princes, but without my knowledge" (Hos 8:4). Like a wild donkey (8:9), lusting after a mate, the Israelites have pursued an alliance with Assyria, perverting their own religious customs along the way, and losing their identity in God as a result. This is the heart of Hosea's prophetic complaint against Israel.
Amos' prophetic complaint cites much different examples of Israel's failure to correctly live out its relationship with Yahweh, but his overall concern, demonstrated with the use of a plumb line, is the same as Hosea's: "Israel is radically off course, despite the prosperity that has seduced many into thinking that Yahweh is pleased with them" (Stanley, p.432). Amos focuses on the prosperity of the Northern Kingdom and how, despite this wealth, "the rich are living lives of luxury and ease while ignoring the poor and needy" (Stanley, p.429). What? A widening wealth gap between the haves and have nots? This sounds desperately familiar to today! While the crooked business practices and bribing of judges (sidebar: If you haven't before, go check out Jon Foreman's Instead of a Show. Wonderful song that perfectly captures Amos' complaint!) are bad enough, they are symptomatic of a deeper spiritual sickness, as Stanley calls it, within the people.
Jon Foreman, a singer-songwriter, gives voice to God and puts it this way:
Your eyes are closed when you're praying
You sing right along with the band
You shine up your shoes for services
But there's blood on your hands
You've turned your back on the homeless
And the ones who don't fit in your plan
Quit playing religion games
There's blood on your hands
For Amos, the people's faithfulness at worshiping is completely empty action because it is devoid of any true meaning. Amos surely saw the same failure in religious leadership that Hosea decried, but he pays attention to the social expression that it produces, which is inequality (2:6), abuse of the poor (5:11), bribes (5:12), and inequitable structures designed to entrench wealth and poverty for the lucky and not-so-lucky, respectively (8:4-6). The lesson is as relevant for Israel then as it is for us today, living as we do in a political system that has co-opted free market economics to keep wealth in the hands of the already wealthy and to prevent equity and equality from being recognized among God's people. Jon Foreman's lyrics are a direct challenge to theologies of wealth and prosperity and religious expression that ignore the needs of the most vulnerable and marginalized in society. For Amos and Hosea then, and for us today, there has been a great propensity to forget one's relationship with God when one is comfortable - whether that comfort comes from wealth, or from a wrong-headed view of religious expression. Whether or not an expression of God's favor, comfortability must not desensitize God's people to the hurts and needs of a broken world, who can be made even a little bit more whole through our acts of justice and mercy. And, of course, as Micah would say, (Micah 6:8) this is all, in the final analysis, that God requires.
In chapter 4 of the Book of Hosea (which is the longest of the twelve so-named prophetic books of the Hebrew scriptures), the prophet gives voice to Yahweh's concern, reading out a litany of (mis)deeds that have damned the people's relationship with their God: the people have no faithfulness, no loyalty, no knowledge of God in the land; they are a swearing, lying, murder, stealing and adulterous bunch, who will surely be destroyed because they don't know God and have forgotten God's law (Hos 4:1-6).
As if that weren't enough, though, there is a structural failure here, specifically by the religious authorities and namely the temple priests. The Theologian Marvin Sweeney writes that the "Israelite priesthood is the party responsible for Israel's failure to abide by its covenant (New Interpreter's Study Bible, p.1258). There are real accusations that God makes against God's people through Hosea regarding idol worship in chapters 10 and 13. In 10:4, God refers to the people as liars, saying "with empty oaths they make covenants." In 10:5, God predicts that their worship of a calf idol placed in the Samarian temple portends the doom of both the people and temple, predicting it will be carried away when Assyria sacks the whole city.
God continues through Hosea in 13:2, claiming the people "keep on sinning, and make a cast image for themselves... people are kissing calves." This is the same God who, in 13:4-8, describes saving them, delivering them from Egypt, and being their only saving God. God is incredulous at this people who, in 13:6, have forgotten God entirely: "While I fed them, they were satisfied, and their heart was proud; therefore they forgot me." God's wrath awaits them in 13:8, like a momma bear robbed of her cubs.
These are the ultimate costs of the people's actions, who have forgotten their saving God and have turned instead to adopt the cultic religious practices of their neighbors and fearful (and eventual) conquerers to the north, the Assyrians. In turning away, Hosea makes clear in chapter 8 that Israel has violated its covenant by seeking out these kings and sanctuaries which God had never authorized and not intended as part of God's perfect plan for God's people: "They made kings, but not through me; they set up princes, but without my knowledge" (Hos 8:4). Like a wild donkey (8:9), lusting after a mate, the Israelites have pursued an alliance with Assyria, perverting their own religious customs along the way, and losing their identity in God as a result. This is the heart of Hosea's prophetic complaint against Israel.
Amos' prophetic complaint cites much different examples of Israel's failure to correctly live out its relationship with Yahweh, but his overall concern, demonstrated with the use of a plumb line, is the same as Hosea's: "Israel is radically off course, despite the prosperity that has seduced many into thinking that Yahweh is pleased with them" (Stanley, p.432). Amos focuses on the prosperity of the Northern Kingdom and how, despite this wealth, "the rich are living lives of luxury and ease while ignoring the poor and needy" (Stanley, p.429). What? A widening wealth gap between the haves and have nots? This sounds desperately familiar to today! While the crooked business practices and bribing of judges (sidebar: If you haven't before, go check out Jon Foreman's Instead of a Show. Wonderful song that perfectly captures Amos' complaint!) are bad enough, they are symptomatic of a deeper spiritual sickness, as Stanley calls it, within the people.
Jon Foreman, a singer-songwriter, gives voice to God and puts it this way:
Your eyes are closed when you're praying
You sing right along with the band
You shine up your shoes for services
But there's blood on your hands
You've turned your back on the homeless
And the ones who don't fit in your plan
Quit playing religion games
There's blood on your hands
For Amos, the people's faithfulness at worshiping is completely empty action because it is devoid of any true meaning. Amos surely saw the same failure in religious leadership that Hosea decried, but he pays attention to the social expression that it produces, which is inequality (2:6), abuse of the poor (5:11), bribes (5:12), and inequitable structures designed to entrench wealth and poverty for the lucky and not-so-lucky, respectively (8:4-6). The lesson is as relevant for Israel then as it is for us today, living as we do in a political system that has co-opted free market economics to keep wealth in the hands of the already wealthy and to prevent equity and equality from being recognized among God's people. Jon Foreman's lyrics are a direct challenge to theologies of wealth and prosperity and religious expression that ignore the needs of the most vulnerable and marginalized in society. For Amos and Hosea then, and for us today, there has been a great propensity to forget one's relationship with God when one is comfortable - whether that comfort comes from wealth, or from a wrong-headed view of religious expression. Whether or not an expression of God's favor, comfortability must not desensitize God's people to the hurts and needs of a broken world, who can be made even a little bit more whole through our acts of justice and mercy. And, of course, as Micah would say, (Micah 6:8) this is all, in the final analysis, that God requires.
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