Recently, I was looking at Genesis 22 with a Bible Study that I’ve been leading for a while now. For about seven months we’ve been walking through Genesis, chapter-by-chapter and verse-by-verse. I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t been looking forward to Genesis 22 as it is my favorite chapter in that particular book.

We read the text together, and then I began talking about what the text has meant to me. This spurred quite a bit of conversation. You can check out our group’s (primitive) blog for my thoughts on that.

Of the many things that we discussed, I was most intrigued by the psychology of Abraham. God (Elohim) comes to him and commands that he sacrifice Isaac. Now, Isaac, of course, was the fulfillment of God’s promise. Through Isaac and his offspring Abraham was supposed to become a great nation.¹ After so many years of waiting and hoping, he and Sarah finally have this promised child. Now God is asking that Abraham trust him in a rather insane way.

“Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you” (Gen 22:2 ESV).

We had a great discussion about what might have been going through Abraham’s head the evening before he and Isaac embarked on this journey to Moriah.

Some folks in the group felt that Abraham had become so in tune with God that he didn’t even question it. No longer do we see Abraham bargaining with God as we did in the Sodom episode in chapter 18. By this time Abraham has learned that God is faithful and will fulfill his promises. Therefore, he doesn’t question it. He gets up, makes everything ready, and off they go.

Others, however, decided to make Abraham a lot more human, and a little less superhero. They imagined that the evening before the journey was perhaps the worst night of Abraham’s life. Surely, he tossed and turned all night long, unable to sleep as he agonized over his decision. Would he trust the voice and do as it commanded? Or would he turn his back on all of that and give in to his preservation instinct?

Both of these interpretations are interesting in their own right. I don’t think that either can be proven right or wrong, but both say equally true things about God and Abraham. The former interpretation makes Abraham out to be the Knight of Faith that Kierkegaard loves² and Hebrews extols. The latter interpretation helps us to understand how difficult the way of God can be, and how even our greatest heroes are irreducibly human.

I tend to humanize Abraham. I think this was no easy task for him, and I’d like to draw some additional evidence to support this: Genesis 22:5.

Mostly, I would like to draw your attention to the word that Abraham uses to refer to Isaac: נַעַ‏ר (transliteration: na’ar).

This particular word is not at all uncommon in the Old Testament (256 occurrences), nor is it uncommon in Genesis (27 occurrences; mostly in Genesis 21 and 22). נַעַ‏ר has two primary meanings: (a) boy or young man and (b) servant. Definition (b) is featured, for example, in this verse; they are the two male servants that Abraham commands to stay with the donkey. Definition (a) is also featured in this verse; this is the word that Abraham uses for Isaac.

What I find so painfully interesting about this is that Abraham chooses not to use the word “son” (‏בֵּן) when talking about Isaac. Instead, he merely refers to him as “boy.” Why is that? I would think that Abraham, after waiting so long for Isaac, after going through all of the trials that he had gone through, would be so proud to refer to his son as such. Instead, he refers to him with the same word that is used to refer to his servants.

I propose that Abraham is attempting to distance himself from Isaac. He has agonized over this decision. He has thought about it all night long and all three days of the journey. The only way that he can part with this child, the only way that he can jeopardize the promise that God has made to him, is to cope — he must stop thinking of Isaac as “son.” Once he removes that relationship, he can pile the wood on Isaac’s back and begin the hike up the mountain where he will bring the knife to Isaac’s throat and spill his blood (were it not for the angel of the Lord, of course).

If you think about it, this is an extremely common coping mechanism. When we lose something or are in danger of losing something, we often downplay its significance for us. We do this not only to make a great external show to put up a façade of strength, but also to put a wall around our hearts and preserve them from the pain and horror of loss.

I think Abraham had to stop thinking of Isaac as his son. If he had continued to think of Isaac as a son, then he would never have climbed the mountain and the Lord may never have provided.³

Then where would we be?

Footnotes

1. See Genesis 21:12 — “…through Isaac shall your offspring be named.”
2. In reading about the Knight of Faith for this particular post, I ran across this fun blog post: “Charlie Brown: A Kierkegaardian Knight of Faith” — how true!
3. I find Hebrews 11:17–19 very interesting — especially with respect to the Kierkegaard discussion. Here’s the ESV:
   

   By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was in the act of offering up his only son, of whom it was said, “Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.” He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead, from which, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.

   The Knight of Faith believed that it was a moral imperative to follow the command of God even when it seemed morally reprehensible. For Hebrews, the coping mechanism is an intense faith in the notion that God would fulfill his promise through whatever means was necessary — even if that meant bringing Isaac back from the dead.

I am adding yet another excellent blog to the good ol’ Blogroll:

Higgaion

This is the blog of Christopher Heard, associate professor of religion at Pepperdine. Lately, with the publication by of the Nabu-sharrussu-ukin tablet by Michael Jursa (see my notice about this here), I’ve been reading Higgaion. Christopher Heard is pretty much “da bomb.”

On a personal note: I can only assume that he is of no relation to the angelic-voiced “Chris Heard” with whom my brother sang in choir at Westwood Elementary School in Friendswood, Texas. Supposedly, Christopher Heard will soon be 40 (not judging by his picture in this post), making him 10-12 years older than “Chris Heard.”

Museum’s tablet lends new weight to Biblical truth -Times Online

The Times Online reports that a cuneiform tablet dating to 595 BC (that’s BCE for some of you) offers extra-biblical evidence for the existence of an official under Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar. This particular official, Nebo-Sarsekim, was previously only mentioned in Jeremiah (39:3).

The tablet has apparently been sitting in the British Museum’s archives since 1870.

For a translation of the tablet, see the Telegraph.

Update

• Christopher Heard of Higgaion weighs in this topic.
• Ancient Hebrew Poetry has a nice post summing up the situation and the evidence.
• Following Christopher Heard and John Hobbins, I’ll refer to this fellow not as Nebo-Sarsekim, but Nabu-sharrussu-ukin. This is so out of my field…I’m gonna trust ‘em!
• More from Christopher Heard: “Does the Nabu-sharrussu-ukin tablet prove biblical ‘corruption’?”

5 Superheroes of the Bible >> Bible Study at Church Hopping

So, I just submitted my entry for ProBlogger.net’s group writing project: “Top 5.” I started browsing through other entries, and I happened upon this awesome one! Josh Rives list’ includes:

• David (aka Batman)
• Elijah (aka The Flash)
• Moses (aka Captain Planet)
• Josheb-basshebeth, Eleazar and Shammah
  (a.k.a The Fantastic Four) [although points off for only being three]
• Samson (aka Superman)

Sweeeeet…

This past weekend was Easter which naturally brings with it contemplation of the cross and the resurrection.

A good friend of mine was asking me about Psalm 22 and the Crucifixion. In Mark 15:34 and Matthew 27:46, Jesus utters the following question while on the Cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (NB: Matthew and Mark are very slightly different).

Most Bibles will note that this is an Aramaic translation of Psalm 22:1. My friend asked me whether or not I thought that this should be understood as a quotation of the entire psalm, or just the first line.

Allow me to explain a little further. Often in ancient literature, a quotation of a familiar text was identified by writing just a few lines. This was probably because writing materials (e.g., papyrus) could be quite expensive. It was basically a paper-saving technique.

How does the reading of this text change if we take Jesus to be quoting the entire psalm, rather than just the first verse?

I actually don’t feel like the reading changes much, in fact, I feel like its a strong position. What may be bothersome is for people to take the hope evoked by Psalm 22:19ff. and twist it into saying that God had not forsaken Jesus while Jesus was on the cross. I find this position untenable.

Paul’s Position on “Forsaken”

If we look at Paul, I think we’ll find that his attitude is in accordance with the concrete meaning of these verses in Matthew and Mark. Jesus was in fact forsaken, separated, from God.

For our sake he made him who knew no sin to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Cor 5:21)

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree”—so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith. (Gal 3:13–14)

In both of these verses, it appears that Christ experienced separation from God. First, in 2 Corinthians, Paul says that he was made to be sin. We know that sin and God cannot coexist. The two are oil and water and do not mix. At the crucifixion, Jesus took the sin of the world upon him, at which point he was separated from God by his filthiness.

In the second quotation, Paul refers to Jesus as “cursed.” This too shows a separation from God. How can a curse be wholly God? Just as I explained above, at the moment of the crucifixion, God indeed turned his back on Jesus.

What’s Hebrews 2:9 Got to Do With It?

Here is how the ESV translates Hebrews 2:9:

But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.

This seems pretty innocuous at first. However, lurking underneath this text is textual variant that alters the theology of this statement. The crux of the matter is the idea that “by the grace of God” Jesus died. There is strong textual evidence to support this reading: “so that separated/apart from God he might taste death for everyone.” I have written rather extensively about this particular topic in a paper called “Hebrews 2:9: Separated by Grace”.

If my argument is correct, if “by the grace” should be replaced with “separated” this would make rock solid the understanding that Jesus did indeed die separated from God.

Ancient Hebrew Poetry: A Brief Guide to Dictionaries of Biblical Hebrew

Ancient Hebrew Poetry has a guide to dictionaries of Biblical Hebrew. This would be a great read for folks thinking about getting into Hebrew.

Also, I’ll be adding Ancient Hebrew Poetry to my blogroll. Yeehaw!

NT Today: Remembering Moses

NT Today notes that today marks the 3280th anniversary of Moses’ death according to Jewish tradition.

Surely we should have some festival in remembrance. I think I shall institute one!

Previously, I posted “Gettin’ Evangelical with Samuel.” Some of those ideas are replicated here, but the focus is different. This line of thinking was used for a recent bible study I taught at Friendswood High School’s “Campaigners” (Jan. 31, 2007).

Why would God allow the ark of the covenant to be captured? (1 Samuel 4 [ESV])

The ark was the very seat of God. It was the place where the Spirit of God resided. In antiquity, temples were quite literally the houses of the gods. Most temples held a cult statue which would be used for ceremonies or worshiped by that cults devotees. The ark of the covenant sat in the house of God (whether tabernacle or temple) and tangibly symbolized His presence.

When the sons of Eli go out to battle the Philistines (1 Samuel 5 [ESV]), they take the ark with them (at the behest of the “Elders of Israel”) in order to ensure their victory. But God gives victory to the Philistines on that day, and the ark is captured and whisked away to Ashdod.

The Glory of God Demonstrated

The Philistines place the ark in the house of Dagon (1 Sam 5:2 [ESV]). Dagon is an ancient mesopotamian deity often used in the names of kings and other rulers. (I suppose he’s the mesopotamian god of politics!) The statue of Dagon certainly seems to act like a politician—a sycophant—as the people of Ashdod discover that overnight the statue has fallen down face first before the ark.

The people re-erect the statue. But the next morning, not only is Dagon bowing before the ark, but his hands and head have been cut off.

God allows the ark to be captured in order to demonstrate the fundamental point that there are no gods before Him. He is the supreme god. These mesopotamian gods that the Philistines worship are nothing compared to Him.

God Giving Himself Up

The story of the capture of the ark is not an isolated incident. God’s modus operandi is to give himself up in order to prove His glory. The most famous example of this would be the final week of Jesus’ life.

Jesus is God. Yet, He chooses not to flee from his would-be captors, but gives Himself up in the garden. He is beaten and battered; he is hung on the cross and dies the death of a felon. Three days later, He rises from the dead, having conquered sin and death. His glory is demonstrated when He ascends to the right hand of God, and the Spirit is made manifest on Earth.

A summary of the Christ event can be gleaned from Paul: Philippians 2:6–11 (perhaps the greatest piece of poetry ever written):

I’ve always thought in the back of mind that just about every sermon should begin and end here. This is the perfect picture of the gospel in a nutshell. God humbles himself, allows himself to be lowered to the level of mere mortals. He infiltrates sin and death where they dwell so that He can conquer them. By conquering sin and death, He is glorified above every other name.

God’s “Backward” Justice

God has a backward justice, at least from our human perspective. Jesus’ message is that we must humble ourselves and serve in order to be counted as great in the Kingdom of Heaven. The Gospel of Luke is best at portraying this social reversal. Luke’s text is rife with the paradox of the kingdom: the last shall be first. Look at Jesus’ mission statement in Luke 4:16-30, His first public act in the Gospel of Luke.

This backward justice, however, comes about because it is rooted in pure love. Jesus’ sacrifice is the ultimate reversal. God himself was spurned and rejected, beaten and battered, mangled so that He can be first in the kingdom.

Sometimes we wonder why the wicked prevail. We wonder why the good die young. We wonder why the ruthless get rich. Rest assured, it is not God’s justice that is backward—it’s ours. Only in a sinful world is it possible to understand how these events can take place.

Kingdom View

For me, this story of the capturing of the ark is a solid reminder that we need kingdom eyes. We need to be able to see past the sinful world to the reality beyond. If you are Christian, then your world is governed by the reality of God (I would say that this is true if you aren’t Christian…but you probably don’t acknowledge that). Looking beyond the fabric of this world into the next requires kingdom eyes—requires eyes to see the Kingdom.

God’s kingdom is set up in such a way that the last shall be first. It is the humble servant who is exalted. It is not the rich or the powerful who find glory, but those who submit themselves to service. Jesus is the perfect example of this.

Over the past few days, I’ve been looking at 1 Samuel, and I am continually intrigued by what my latest situation does for my reading of some of these texts.

The Harvard Interpretive Thought Process

So, I’d like to just comment on 1 Samuel 5 (ESV). The story is simple and straightforward. But let me give an example of how the Harvard side of my brain looks at it:

Dagon? Who is Dagon? Oh, okay. Dagon is an ancient Mesopotamian god. But wait a minute…He doesn’t show up in any sort of hard evidence (aka “rock”) as a Philistine god. Hrm….what to do?

It’s obvious to see my hangup here. While it is certainly interesting that Dagon is a Mesopotamian god, a god associated with royalty, and is not really attested by the Philistines, it is a faithless reading.

Over the past few years, I’ve been increasingly concerned with a scientific and faithless reading of Scripture. Is it possible to meld these lessons with a more faith-based approach? Is it possible to look at the text and divine from it some sort of history, while still having an ultimate faith in it? Prof. Laura Nasrallah is fond of telling her students things like: “Paul is not writing to you.” But, this is really a central facet of evangelical biblical interpretation, isn’t it? An evangelical seeks to say that the Bible is applicable today because it is God’s Word, and, as such, it is relevant to all people at all times. Therefore, Paul is writing to me. The same is true of other biblical authors.

To deny this possibility is to deny a valid mode of interpretation. The Academy considers its methods proper and accurate. As scholars shift from the rhetorical criticism model popular in the 20th century, they are finding fruits within post-modern (po-mo for short) methods. In the post-modern age of relativism, it is surprising that an “open-minded” approach precludes any kind of confessional faith in the text as a valid point of view.

Readers and Texts: Post-Modern Evangelical (???)

In interpreting any text there is a reader and a text. Many forms of po-mo interpretation, as much as they generally annoy me, allow for the reader to be an active agent in the construction of the text. Though there is a page with letters, it is all nonsense until the reader analyzes and synthesizes those letters into words into phrases into sentences into paragraphs into ideas. The slippery slope, of course, is that it is possible to run away with this and say that all interpretations are valid. This is the reason that, generally speaking, I’m not a fan of a po-mo stance. However, I see nothing invalid in claiming that the books of the Bible, so far as they are repositories of story and knowledge meant to be passed down, should not be understood as having been, in some sense, written to me.

Therefore, in my evangelical half, I tend to look at 1 Samuel 5, and think something like this:

What is God teaching me? His power is so great that even a powerful foreign god like Dagon cannot help but bow prostrate before Him. His majesty is such that know “god” crafted by human hands (for God is certainly not made by human hands), or crafted by human minds, can resist Him. He is the one God. The Almighty. The Creator of Heaven and Earth.

Clearly, these two readings are totally different and opposed. The evangelical reading leaves little room for doubt in the historicity of the text. In fact, within this reading, historicity plays a remarkably minor role. Did the statue of Dagon actually fall when the ark of the covenant was placed in the house of Dagon? That’s what the book says. How do we apply a truth value to it in the absence of any other evidence? The Christian assumption is that all Scripture is “God-breathed and useful for teaching.” So, let’s go with it. The questions that follow are obvious: (a) What does this mean for the story? and (b) What does this mean for me?

Allowing myself to return to this mode of reading, as I noted above, has given me a certain freedom. History can act like chains on faith. I’m not saying we should do away with it. Anyone who knows me knows that I believe the opposite. I have found my reading of the Bible enriched by my understanding of the history behind it. However, at the moment that the Scriptures became canonized—linked inexorably—room is made for a valid interpretation of one book in light of the other. Notice that in my evangelical reading, 2 Timothy 3:16 (ESV) plays a key role. I am reading 1 Samuel 5 in light of the fact that it has something to say to me. It has some instruction to give to me.