THE FLOOD
Genesis 9, Sacrifice and Promise
HAMACO Lesson #5, 2/8/09
We ended last Sunday by reading that after Noah and his family disembarked, they sacrificed burnt offerings from the animals they brought off the ark. This was pleasing to God and he said, “Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures as I have done.” That was the end of the “J” version of the story. Today we will read the final part of the “P” story from chapter nine, verses one through fourteen.
In the concept we discussed at length last Sunday, God in his sorrow repented—in (Jurgen Moltmann’s wording), “for what he has apparently made wrongly”. God’s act of repentance was to destroy everything living on the earth. But as we read today, something other than destruction is happening. It isn’t intended to negate God’s sorrow or repentance, because that is our example to follow when we err, but to bind him with the promise that was best stated earlier in chapter 8, “But God remembered Noah…”? We said then that this was a verse of great importance; maybe the most meaningful verse in the whole saga; and what we read today explains and magnifies its meaning. Granted, that isn’t what we remember about the flood. We remember the ark itself; the animals boarding two by two; the faithfulness of Noah; the number of days it rained; God’s promise never again to destroy the earth, and maybe most vividly, the rainbow which we are told was the sign of God’s first covenant with humankind. I’ll resist the temptation to comment on these events because in essence they represent little more than the structure that supports what is of ultimate significance: that “God remembered Noah…” I don’t mean to imply that they aren’t important; I’m sure they are! But God’s remembering Noah is the deepest theological intention of the flood story. For God’s remembering is what continually fuels his covenant and, thus, our hope.
“But God remembered Noah…” Let’s look at just what that statement can mean for us. First of all, according to the flood story, we reasoning creatures who ask the meaning of our lives are given charge of and responsibility for the rest. There is no understanding why; we simply acknowledge that all is by God’s grace and that alone. Those who can’t accept that premise, and there are many, perhaps most, regard this story as little more than a child’s tale. Evidently such people existed then too or more would have taken seriously God’s grace and found shelter in the ark which is a metaphor for salvation. That humankind didn’t heed God’s warnings doesn’t mean he didn’t speak! Just that they chose not to hear. Sometimes we use deafness as an elective, a fatal one as the story reveals. That seems to have been common wisdom in the Old Testament. Proverbs 28:9 says, “If anyone turns a deaf ear to the law, even his prayers are detestable.” To turn a deaf ear is to choose not to hear God speaking, which, of course, dooms the possibility of our doing his will. Failure to hear and failure to “go thou and do likewise” makes prayer futile as witnessed by Noah’s neighbors.
Now let’s look at the second derivative of God’s remembering: as long as there is even one righteous person, God will be there to walk with him or her through “the valley of the shadow of death” as he was for Noah. I don’t use this beautiful phrase from the 23rd Psalm because most Christians dwell morbidly on death. I use it because it helps clarify this epic story of grace which has lived in all societies, through all generations, for as long as we can measure. It tells us that when we, individually, do face our own “valley of the shadow of death”, we can remember Noah’s story and be assured that nobody but God, and nothing but his fidelity is ultimately important. Christians believe that God never forgets the righteous; for “God remembered Noah”. We know, in Moltmann’s words that, “God suffers the world in its contradictions, and endures it in his long-suffering, instead of annihilating it” “…God remembered Noah”; this, is a promise available to all, but as each faces death, it is our own particular promise from the God in whom we trust.
Third, and for me best of all, there are new beginnings. Let’s play that “what if” game again. Take, for instance, all the interesting numbers in this story, the forty days of rain, animals boarding two by two, the 150 days that the whole earth was submerged, etc.; what if they are nothing other than parts of a word picture contrasting Noah’s righteousness with the curse of his neighbor’s violence and corruption? Looking at it this way relieves us from asking the question, “How could God do this to all these people?” So in my opinion, this is what the story intends. Otherwise, why, as I said earlier in the series did, “The narrative tell us nothing of the victims, other than that they had become violent and corrupted. From them we hear no cries of pain, no begging for another chance, no pounding on the door of the ark. Nothing. They are silent. After the fact they simply slip out of the story, seemingly forgotten.” Consequently, it isn’t likely they are the focus of the story. Rather this is a story about us; it is a story about God; and it is a story about grace and how it works its way out in the lives of all who believe. To paint this picture properly then, it was necessary to contrast righteousness with the consequence of its opposite—evil. Paul rightly said, “The wages of sin is death…” but in the flood story nobody says that, yet we actually see it acted out.
Reading these words, “But God remembered Noah…”, reminds us that two thousand years later a thief hung on a cross, rightly convicted of crimes he admitted. Dying, he turned in agony to Jesus who was hanging on a cross beside him and made a most humble request, and as it turns out, a saving one: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” For without hesitation “Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:42-43) Because God remembered Noah, he remembered that guilty thief, and he remembers we who are just as guilty. So we, too, are invited, like the thief to say “Jesus, remember me.”
More than interesting; it is of great comfort to observe that Noah, by virtue of what we know of his post-flood years, the thief on the cross, by virtue of his own admission of guilt, and even we, who are hardly innocent either, all have a deep need to be remembered. Some are more open to admitting it than others, but we all want desperately to be remembered. Presidents carefully construct and work to preserve their legacies. Doctors allow procedures they pioneer to be named after them; the wealthy give large amounts of money in order to have streets, parks, monuments and buildings named in their honor. And those of us who can’t do those things hope at least our children will remember us. And even our children want to be remembered—in the will!
But the passing of two or three generations, except on rare occasions, will wipe away all but an occasional fleeting curiosity about us, and in the end, all memory of us or what we did, or even who we were will pass—at least in this life. But God will remember, for he remembered Noah.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
THE FLOOD
Genesis 8, Dry Land Again, Now What
HAMACO Lesson #4, 2/1/09
Read Chapter 8 in sections (“J” and then “P”) as we did last week. “J” sections are vv 1-5 and 14-19. “P” sections are vv 6-13 and 20-22.
I want to use our lesson this week to clarify a seemingly preposterous statement I made during last week’s lesson. I think it is important that I explain it more thoroughly. That the statement was controversial (even shocking to some) and I didn’t take the time to explain myself fully was an error on my part. Hopefully there again will be time at the end for questions or comments.
I’ll re-read the verse in question now (6:6) and what I think it means. The text says, “The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain.” Most other translations read, ‘The Lord was sorry’ or ‘it repenteth him’ instead of ‘The Lord was grieved’. The phrase, ‘It repenteth him’ means that it caused God to feel the need to repent for what he had done. All three, in fact, create a word picture of God looking at humankind grown evil, being sorry he had created them, and feeling the need to repent. They lead us to one of two inescapable inferences: either God made a mistake by creating us or he is showing us, through this story, what to do when we err! Just as when we realize we have made a mistake, God wished he hadn’t done it; he even tried to undo the damage by giving Noah 120 years to persuade us to change the way we live, but that didn’t work either. So again I will say that this phrase, exactly as it is written in the Bible, can mean only that the way humans evolved made God sorry and caused him to repent for creating them. Let me make some hopefully clarifying points about such language as this.
First, it is impossible to take these words, “was grieved”, “was sorry” and “it repenteth him”, literally, and come to any conclusion other than a mistake was made by the one who said he wanted to repent; and that was God, by his own admission. Certainly that is the meaning when we say, “I am sorry” or “I must repent”; we did something we wished we hadn’t done. So why would those same words, in the Bible and attributed to God, mean something different? Probably, the answer is that all of our lives we have been conditioned to assign to God superlative powers by saying things like, “God can do anything”. But if descriptions like “God can do anything” are right, why can’t he make a mistake if he wants to? My point is there are infinitely more questions about God than there are answers. For his ways aren’t our ways, as he plainly told us so often.
Secondly, there are three descriptions of God that are often used by Christian thinkers and writers. He is omnipotent, which means he is all-powerful and can do anything; he is omniscient, meaning he knows everything, present, past and future; and he is omnipresent, which means he is everywhere at all times throughout time as we know it. While well meaning, any attempt to describe God, even in such consummate terms, is a mistake. They just don’t do him justice. God is much more that we can describe.
So what is the point? Oftentimes we must simply accept or believe what we don’t understand. Either we must sometimes accept as true what we cannot yet believe; (Remember the old Negro spiritual, “Further Along” that says, “We’ll understand it, all bye and bye?”); or we must believe what we just can’t accept. There is a great line in Mitch Albom’s popular book Tuesdays with Morrie, where He writes, “Sometimes you cannot believe what you see; you have to believe what you feel.” In Mark, chapter nine, a father brings his son to Jesus to be healed of seizures. Humbly and deferentially the father says to Jesus, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” ‘If you can’?” said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, “I do believe; help thou my unbelief!” That father, due to no other virtue than his humility, hit upon something we latter day sophisticates often don’t understand. We just can’t know much about God; so he asks us to believe.
A third insight: the author of one of the truly great Bible commentaries, William Barclay, once wrote, “If a man wishes to teach people about things they do not understand, he must begin from things which they do understand.” Let’s see if this was God’s modus operandi in this story. I don’t know about you, but if there is anything I fully understand, it is about making mistakes. I’ve made some grievous ones! So how could this story help me with that? Let’s play a game, one we’ve all played before. Let’s play “What if”.
What if God just made up the story of a flood (and obviously it came from somewhere); and what if the story shows God taking ultimate responsibility for the problem (as it does); and what if he does this despite the fact that it wasn’t really him, but humankind that fouled things up (if you remember, he did say we had become violent and corrupted); and what if we today, reading the story, paint ourselves into it, and as participants, up on the stage so to speak, we see more clearly God confessing that he made the mistake, that he is sorry, and that he needs to repent?
This is hardly an uncommon occurrence. For instance, have you ever been in a situation where a mistake has been made and it could be your fault but it also could be the other person’s fault? The question, then, is who is going to get the blame. So you get all tense and defensive, but just as you’ve mentally formed your best argument, the other person quickly says, “I’m sorry; I was wrong. Please forgive me”. Most of us would feel a little embarrassment and quickly say, “No, it was my mistake. I’m the one who should be sorry.” What we don’t say is, “Well, you should be sorry”; it was your mistake.” We, as Christians, try to be more gracious than that. And where do you think the grace exhibited by both parties in this scenario comes from? When God wishes to teach people about things they do not understand (like grace), he, too, begins from things they do understand, like this story of a killing flood.
And finally, does this not show us that the only one we can change is ourself. Obviously, that was the conclusion God came to. Others may change, but only if that is their desire; not because we’ve preached down to them (my mother used to say, ‘browbeat), or criticized and blamed them for the mistakes they made.
But let’s pursue further this seeming conclusion by God that the only one he could change was himself. This is important because it adds something to the story in addition to what I said in the first lesson: “This isn’t a story about a flood. It is a story about us.” Now consider the possibility that the story isn’t even about us as much as it is about God himself. Could it be that the flood changes God; that he changes his ways after the flood? Let’s re-read verse twenty-one. “The LORD smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: "Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.” This seems to contradict the writer of Hebrews who says (in 13:8): “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” If we take this story seriously, it clearly states that God changed.
Or maybe it says the way we perceive God can change with the flood story.
Genesis 8, Dry Land Again, Now What
HAMACO Lesson #4, 2/1/09
Read Chapter 8 in sections (“J” and then “P”) as we did last week. “J” sections are vv 1-5 and 14-19. “P” sections are vv 6-13 and 20-22.
I want to use our lesson this week to clarify a seemingly preposterous statement I made during last week’s lesson. I think it is important that I explain it more thoroughly. That the statement was controversial (even shocking to some) and I didn’t take the time to explain myself fully was an error on my part. Hopefully there again will be time at the end for questions or comments.
I’ll re-read the verse in question now (6:6) and what I think it means. The text says, “The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain.” Most other translations read, ‘The Lord was sorry’ or ‘it repenteth him’ instead of ‘The Lord was grieved’. The phrase, ‘It repenteth him’ means that it caused God to feel the need to repent for what he had done. All three, in fact, create a word picture of God looking at humankind grown evil, being sorry he had created them, and feeling the need to repent. They lead us to one of two inescapable inferences: either God made a mistake by creating us or he is showing us, through this story, what to do when we err! Just as when we realize we have made a mistake, God wished he hadn’t done it; he even tried to undo the damage by giving Noah 120 years to persuade us to change the way we live, but that didn’t work either. So again I will say that this phrase, exactly as it is written in the Bible, can mean only that the way humans evolved made God sorry and caused him to repent for creating them. Let me make some hopefully clarifying points about such language as this.
First, it is impossible to take these words, “was grieved”, “was sorry” and “it repenteth him”, literally, and come to any conclusion other than a mistake was made by the one who said he wanted to repent; and that was God, by his own admission. Certainly that is the meaning when we say, “I am sorry” or “I must repent”; we did something we wished we hadn’t done. So why would those same words, in the Bible and attributed to God, mean something different? Probably, the answer is that all of our lives we have been conditioned to assign to God superlative powers by saying things like, “God can do anything”. But if descriptions like “God can do anything” are right, why can’t he make a mistake if he wants to? My point is there are infinitely more questions about God than there are answers. For his ways aren’t our ways, as he plainly told us so often.
Secondly, there are three descriptions of God that are often used by Christian thinkers and writers. He is omnipotent, which means he is all-powerful and can do anything; he is omniscient, meaning he knows everything, present, past and future; and he is omnipresent, which means he is everywhere at all times throughout time as we know it. While well meaning, any attempt to describe God, even in such consummate terms, is a mistake. They just don’t do him justice. God is much more that we can describe.
So what is the point? Oftentimes we must simply accept or believe what we don’t understand. Either we must sometimes accept as true what we cannot yet believe; (Remember the old Negro spiritual, “Further Along” that says, “We’ll understand it, all bye and bye?”); or we must believe what we just can’t accept. There is a great line in Mitch Albom’s popular book Tuesdays with Morrie, where He writes, “Sometimes you cannot believe what you see; you have to believe what you feel.” In Mark, chapter nine, a father brings his son to Jesus to be healed of seizures. Humbly and deferentially the father says to Jesus, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” ‘If you can’?” said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, “I do believe; help thou my unbelief!” That father, due to no other virtue than his humility, hit upon something we latter day sophisticates often don’t understand. We just can’t know much about God; so he asks us to believe.
A third insight: the author of one of the truly great Bible commentaries, William Barclay, once wrote, “If a man wishes to teach people about things they do not understand, he must begin from things which they do understand.” Let’s see if this was God’s modus operandi in this story. I don’t know about you, but if there is anything I fully understand, it is about making mistakes. I’ve made some grievous ones! So how could this story help me with that? Let’s play a game, one we’ve all played before. Let’s play “What if”.
What if God just made up the story of a flood (and obviously it came from somewhere); and what if the story shows God taking ultimate responsibility for the problem (as it does); and what if he does this despite the fact that it wasn’t really him, but humankind that fouled things up (if you remember, he did say we had become violent and corrupted); and what if we today, reading the story, paint ourselves into it, and as participants, up on the stage so to speak, we see more clearly God confessing that he made the mistake, that he is sorry, and that he needs to repent?
This is hardly an uncommon occurrence. For instance, have you ever been in a situation where a mistake has been made and it could be your fault but it also could be the other person’s fault? The question, then, is who is going to get the blame. So you get all tense and defensive, but just as you’ve mentally formed your best argument, the other person quickly says, “I’m sorry; I was wrong. Please forgive me”. Most of us would feel a little embarrassment and quickly say, “No, it was my mistake. I’m the one who should be sorry.” What we don’t say is, “Well, you should be sorry”; it was your mistake.” We, as Christians, try to be more gracious than that. And where do you think the grace exhibited by both parties in this scenario comes from? When God wishes to teach people about things they do not understand (like grace), he, too, begins from things they do understand, like this story of a killing flood.
And finally, does this not show us that the only one we can change is ourself. Obviously, that was the conclusion God came to. Others may change, but only if that is their desire; not because we’ve preached down to them (my mother used to say, ‘browbeat), or criticized and blamed them for the mistakes they made.
But let’s pursue further this seeming conclusion by God that the only one he could change was himself. This is important because it adds something to the story in addition to what I said in the first lesson: “This isn’t a story about a flood. It is a story about us.” Now consider the possibility that the story isn’t even about us as much as it is about God himself. Could it be that the flood changes God; that he changes his ways after the flood? Let’s re-read verse twenty-one. “The LORD smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: "Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.” This seems to contradict the writer of Hebrews who says (in 13:8): “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” If we take this story seriously, it clearly states that God changed.
Or maybe it says the way we perceive God can change with the flood story.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
THE FLOOD
Genesis 6: 7-22, What Happened, continued
HAMACO Lesson #2, 1/18/09
If you remember from two weeks ago we read the beginning of the “J” version, which we said was the earlier of the two Flood stories. And we ended with verses six, seven and eight: 6) The Lord was grieved that he had made man on earth, and his heart was filled with pain. 7) So the Lord said, "I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air—for I am grieved that I have made them." 8) But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord. Let’s begin there and read verses nine through thirteen. As we read you will see that the story seems to be repeating itself, even though it isn’t word for word, and it adds some information. This is because today’s verses come from a different version of the numerous flood stories in circulation then. This, then, is the “P” version, written by priests during the Babylonian captivity. READ vv. 9-13
Now let’s compare the “J” and “P” versions verse by verse, reading “P” first each time. Notice first that “P” begins without any mention of the “J” story of which it is probably unaware. Verse 9: This is the account of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked with God. The “J” version says: “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.” Verse 10: Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham and Japheth. “J” does not mention Noah’s three sons directly. Only later, (in 7:7) does he refer to “Noah and his sons and his wife and his son’s wives.” Verse 11: Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence. “J” says, “The LORD saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become…” Right away these words make it easy for us to identify with this story. Now “P” continues: Verse 12: God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways. “J” had said it this way: “…and that every inclination of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil all the time.” Verse 13: So God said to Noah, "I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them… Here is how “J” said it: “The Lord was grieved that he had made man on earth, and his heart was filled with pain. Verse 13 continues: I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.” Very similar to what “J” says “So the Lord said, ‘I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals…creatures that move along the ground, [and] birds of the air…’” ( Now Read vv. 14-16)
Now let’s read verses seventeen and eighteen with an eye more toward the theological implications rather than the physical descriptions of the rain and the ark. Remember, this is still “P’s” version as God tells Noah, 17) I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish. 18) But I will establish my covenant with you, and you will enter the ark—you and your sons and your wife and your sons' wives with you.
So the facts of the story itself, in the form we have it, are largely self-explanatory. Before it rained for forty days, Noah, on orders from God, built a huge ark to survive the ensuing flood. (Just a little side bar: it wasn’t raining when Noah built the ark. What an apt description of faith.) In that ark he preserved enough of each species to eventually replenish the earth in accordance with the covenant God made with him. But if that were the sum and substance of this story do you really think it would have survived thirty or forty centuries? Probably not.
So there is more to it, and that “more” is theological. In other words, we, by knowing it is more than just an interesting story, are moved to ask, what is its meaning, especially in light of the fact that almost all civilizations have similar stories from their antiquities? And could God really have become murderously angry with humankind? There are many, many questions one could ask about this story; but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We will get to some of them in coming lessons. But today we must resist the temptation to get ahead of our text.
So let’s begin with our first question, “What is the story’s meaning, in light of the fact that almost all civilizations have similar stories from their antiquities?” This event may have happened. Nobody really knows. Positive evidence would be nice, but there is none. I used to think that the many similar stories from other ancient civilizations were strong evidence that a worldwide flood did happen. After all, why else would they all have had these stories? But geologists, especially those from Christian and Jewish belief systems, have found no evidence of that. Can we say, though, that since no positive evidence has been found, the Flood didn’t happen? That seems a little premature in the sense that significant artifacts proving ancient events, people and places are quite often found. So armed with some evidence and continued hope, the digging continues.
Our second question, “And could God really have been murderously angry with humankind?” is more difficult because we have to begin with the presumption that God really did get that angry, either that or this is a story he left us to illustrate an important truth he wants us to have. Neither choice satisfies everyone. However, I think I have a way we can utilize both. Let us assume God really did get this angry—but then ask ourselves ‘Why?” Let the geologists continue their search for the “what” of the story, but in the meantime we shall seek its meaning, as either a historical event or a God-inspired story, what does it mean—for us? For that answer, we who revere the Bible as God’s word must dig in other places—holy places. We seek wisdom from words centuries old as if they were written for us; and we believe they were. Too often we are disappointed by the pronouncements of humankind—those who claim to know the Bible isn’t true, but can’t say what is. The Bible, on the other hand, tells us about 1) ancient problems that persist today, situations we can instantly recognize, 2) of ancient inclinations which seem eerily familiar, 3) of the meaning of faith in God and the lack thereof, 4) and of consequences we would rather not consider. To read these stories with our eyes open, so to speak, usually finds us looking uncomfortably into a mirror.
I would suggest that finding God’s will in the stories he has left us is light years ahead of finding the ark. I’ll not soon forget a pastor many years ago, who, when I shared with him my hope for what the Shroud of Turin, if it did belong to Jesus, could reveal, said to me, “Phil, what if it isn’t the authentic shroud of Jesus? Would that destroy, or even lessen your faith?” I guess my answer to that question had to be “No”, for sure enough, we are no closer now to proving or disproving the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin than we were then, yet my faith has grown without such proof. Similarly, finding the historical ark, while it would be very exciting, actually would do nothing for my belief, for as a Christian I am to, “Walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Cor. 5:7)
So what would cause God to become this angry? If we go back to the text both versions will give us the answer. Let’s read verses eleven and twelve, “Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence. God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways.” Our narrative prefaces all God’s destructive action with this indictment. He became murderously angry because everything he had created had become corrupt and violent.
Now that’s an interesting paring of words: “corrupt” and “violent.” So what is the evil that first corrupts us and eventually leads to violence? Christian poet, Lucy Shaw says, “We can talk endlessly about power for good versus power for evil, but it has long been understood that no matter what its motivation, personal power may corrupt, and…that results in the destruction or annihilation of another.” In the same vein, Lord Acton of England famously said, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Now I know such a lust for power doesn’t answer every question about the genesis of corruption. For instance, theologian H. Richard Niebuhr says, “…we are convicted of having corrupted our religious life through our unquenchable desire to keep…our love of our good in the center of the picture.” But does this, too, not reflect the use of personal power? How else do most individuals and nations acquire and exercise domination and control over others? And for what other reason than, “…to keep…our love of our good in the center of the picture”?
So is it not possible just from our reading of this text to say that in the same proportion that we relax our hold on God, we insure our own corruption? And would it not be true that when we think first of ourselves and what we declare to be ours, we are trifling with the root source of corruption. Do you know why I don’t like to hear this, why I would rather disown such a theory? Because I’m implicated—and I don’t want to face that! Because God, if we use the Old Testament phraseology in this story, destroys us for that. And it doesn’t get any better if we use a more modern understanding of how God deals with our sin; allowing us to destroy ourselves.
The important thing, I think, is to understand that this story, while interesting and time honored, isn’t about a flood. It is about us, and about the consequences of separation from God. But there is hope! That’s the good news. The bad news is that you will have to wait until the next lesson to find out what that hope is.
Genesis 6: 7-22, What Happened, continued
HAMACO Lesson #2, 1/18/09
If you remember from two weeks ago we read the beginning of the “J” version, which we said was the earlier of the two Flood stories. And we ended with verses six, seven and eight: 6) The Lord was grieved that he had made man on earth, and his heart was filled with pain. 7) So the Lord said, "I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air—for I am grieved that I have made them." 8) But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord. Let’s begin there and read verses nine through thirteen. As we read you will see that the story seems to be repeating itself, even though it isn’t word for word, and it adds some information. This is because today’s verses come from a different version of the numerous flood stories in circulation then. This, then, is the “P” version, written by priests during the Babylonian captivity. READ vv. 9-13
Now let’s compare the “J” and “P” versions verse by verse, reading “P” first each time. Notice first that “P” begins without any mention of the “J” story of which it is probably unaware. Verse 9: This is the account of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked with God. The “J” version says: “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.” Verse 10: Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham and Japheth. “J” does not mention Noah’s three sons directly. Only later, (in 7:7) does he refer to “Noah and his sons and his wife and his son’s wives.” Verse 11: Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence. “J” says, “The LORD saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become…” Right away these words make it easy for us to identify with this story. Now “P” continues: Verse 12: God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways. “J” had said it this way: “…and that every inclination of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil all the time.” Verse 13: So God said to Noah, "I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them… Here is how “J” said it: “The Lord was grieved that he had made man on earth, and his heart was filled with pain. Verse 13 continues: I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.” Very similar to what “J” says “So the Lord said, ‘I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals…creatures that move along the ground, [and] birds of the air…’” ( Now Read vv. 14-16)
Now let’s read verses seventeen and eighteen with an eye more toward the theological implications rather than the physical descriptions of the rain and the ark. Remember, this is still “P’s” version as God tells Noah, 17) I am going to bring floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life under the heavens, every creature that has the breath of life in it. Everything on earth will perish. 18) But I will establish my covenant with you, and you will enter the ark—you and your sons and your wife and your sons' wives with you.
So the facts of the story itself, in the form we have it, are largely self-explanatory. Before it rained for forty days, Noah, on orders from God, built a huge ark to survive the ensuing flood. (Just a little side bar: it wasn’t raining when Noah built the ark. What an apt description of faith.) In that ark he preserved enough of each species to eventually replenish the earth in accordance with the covenant God made with him. But if that were the sum and substance of this story do you really think it would have survived thirty or forty centuries? Probably not.
So there is more to it, and that “more” is theological. In other words, we, by knowing it is more than just an interesting story, are moved to ask, what is its meaning, especially in light of the fact that almost all civilizations have similar stories from their antiquities? And could God really have become murderously angry with humankind? There are many, many questions one could ask about this story; but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We will get to some of them in coming lessons. But today we must resist the temptation to get ahead of our text.
So let’s begin with our first question, “What is the story’s meaning, in light of the fact that almost all civilizations have similar stories from their antiquities?” This event may have happened. Nobody really knows. Positive evidence would be nice, but there is none. I used to think that the many similar stories from other ancient civilizations were strong evidence that a worldwide flood did happen. After all, why else would they all have had these stories? But geologists, especially those from Christian and Jewish belief systems, have found no evidence of that. Can we say, though, that since no positive evidence has been found, the Flood didn’t happen? That seems a little premature in the sense that significant artifacts proving ancient events, people and places are quite often found. So armed with some evidence and continued hope, the digging continues.
Our second question, “And could God really have been murderously angry with humankind?” is more difficult because we have to begin with the presumption that God really did get that angry, either that or this is a story he left us to illustrate an important truth he wants us to have. Neither choice satisfies everyone. However, I think I have a way we can utilize both. Let us assume God really did get this angry—but then ask ourselves ‘Why?” Let the geologists continue their search for the “what” of the story, but in the meantime we shall seek its meaning, as either a historical event or a God-inspired story, what does it mean—for us? For that answer, we who revere the Bible as God’s word must dig in other places—holy places. We seek wisdom from words centuries old as if they were written for us; and we believe they were. Too often we are disappointed by the pronouncements of humankind—those who claim to know the Bible isn’t true, but can’t say what is. The Bible, on the other hand, tells us about 1) ancient problems that persist today, situations we can instantly recognize, 2) of ancient inclinations which seem eerily familiar, 3) of the meaning of faith in God and the lack thereof, 4) and of consequences we would rather not consider. To read these stories with our eyes open, so to speak, usually finds us looking uncomfortably into a mirror.
I would suggest that finding God’s will in the stories he has left us is light years ahead of finding the ark. I’ll not soon forget a pastor many years ago, who, when I shared with him my hope for what the Shroud of Turin, if it did belong to Jesus, could reveal, said to me, “Phil, what if it isn’t the authentic shroud of Jesus? Would that destroy, or even lessen your faith?” I guess my answer to that question had to be “No”, for sure enough, we are no closer now to proving or disproving the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin than we were then, yet my faith has grown without such proof. Similarly, finding the historical ark, while it would be very exciting, actually would do nothing for my belief, for as a Christian I am to, “Walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Cor. 5:7)
So what would cause God to become this angry? If we go back to the text both versions will give us the answer. Let’s read verses eleven and twelve, “Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence. God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways.” Our narrative prefaces all God’s destructive action with this indictment. He became murderously angry because everything he had created had become corrupt and violent.
Now that’s an interesting paring of words: “corrupt” and “violent.” So what is the evil that first corrupts us and eventually leads to violence? Christian poet, Lucy Shaw says, “We can talk endlessly about power for good versus power for evil, but it has long been understood that no matter what its motivation, personal power may corrupt, and…that results in the destruction or annihilation of another.” In the same vein, Lord Acton of England famously said, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Now I know such a lust for power doesn’t answer every question about the genesis of corruption. For instance, theologian H. Richard Niebuhr says, “…we are convicted of having corrupted our religious life through our unquenchable desire to keep…our love of our good in the center of the picture.” But does this, too, not reflect the use of personal power? How else do most individuals and nations acquire and exercise domination and control over others? And for what other reason than, “…to keep…our love of our good in the center of the picture”?
So is it not possible just from our reading of this text to say that in the same proportion that we relax our hold on God, we insure our own corruption? And would it not be true that when we think first of ourselves and what we declare to be ours, we are trifling with the root source of corruption. Do you know why I don’t like to hear this, why I would rather disown such a theory? Because I’m implicated—and I don’t want to face that! Because God, if we use the Old Testament phraseology in this story, destroys us for that. And it doesn’t get any better if we use a more modern understanding of how God deals with our sin; allowing us to destroy ourselves.
The important thing, I think, is to understand that this story, while interesting and time honored, isn’t about a flood. It is about us, and about the consequences of separation from God. But there is hope! That’s the good news. The bad news is that you will have to wait until the next lesson to find out what that hope is.
THE FLOOD
Genesis 7, Boarding the Ark
HAMACO Lesson #3, 1/25/09
First, read the sections of chapter seven from “J”; then read them from the “P” sections. These sections are as follows: from “J”—7:1-5; 7-10; 12; 17; and 22-24. From “P”—7:6; 11; 13-16; and 18-21.
How would you respond if someone said to you that it wasn’t Adolf Hitler who committed the greatest act of genocide in the history of the world, but God? Does the story of the Flood tell us that God could actually do that? This story is referred to by some as a saga, because a saga tells of something in prehistory which no one could have observed. In sagas such as this one, the basic truth it underlies, the reason it is told, is veiled. But (as we said in the last lesson), the people who read it with an inquiring mind come to recognize its essential truth.
But why must the truth be veiled? Why do we have to search for it? As you know from your own experience, what we find for ourselves is so much more believable than what we are asked or told to believe. And to search for the truth in the Flood saga is a good thing for another reason. For what we learn there carries over to many other stories of brutality found in the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Old Testament, sometimes wrongly called the Books of Moses). Such stories cause many people to dismiss even the possibility of a just and loving God. Consequently, they want no part of our religion, even declaring it a negative force in human history. So searching for the truth about God and his actions is what this lesson is about, but using only the narrow focus of the Flood saga. Let’s try today to shed some light on how to understand this story.
To begin, fast forward a few thousand years and we find ourselves, and not as an entirely peaceful people either. Just in the past one hundred years we have been involved in no fewer than seven wars or other major military actions. This doesn’t even count the thousands of murders on our streets and in our homes that occur each year. And we aren’t the only ones; Israel and the Islamic peoples (who, according to our common beliefs, are our fellow descendents of Abraham) can hardly be characterized as peaceful either.
Regarding most Americans, though, I grant you we believe we go to war reluctantly and for honorable reasons, and I am one of them. But that is our perception—our reality. The perceptions on the other side of the world are quite different—and that, for them, is just as real. The way most of our enemies see it, our violent actions aren’t surprising; for instance, it’s easy, even though erroneous, to connect our belief in the Bible to acquiescence in the mass murder God committed in the flood story. How are we to deal with that? Arguing the point is useless; no one ever wins an argument. Instead of that, let’s concentrate on our own understanding. How do we Christians infer the meaning of God creating a flood that destroyed almost all life on earth, and secondarily, does that give us the right to destroy those with whom WE are estranged? You may think that is a ridiculous question, but remember in the minds of our enemies, it isn’t ridiculous at all.
When reading this saga I can’t help but grieve over the millions who perished. You know, they were more than just millions, they were people. Each had a life, each had a story; in many ways they are us. They had children and grandchildren; they loved and were loved. Such an event makes the devastation Hurricane Ike visited on Galveston or Crystal Beach trivial by comparison. But we can relate because we remember our horror at the devastation we saw there, the lists of missing persons presumed dead, a grief only exacerbated, not be numbers, but by the many personal stories we heard.
Were all of Noah’s neighbors bad? If so, what happened to their chance for repentance? At Crystal Beach most escaped. Were they good? This has to be more than a simplistic “good” versus “bad” story. The narrative tells us nothing of the victims, other than, as we pointed out last week, they had become violent and corrupted. Yet from them we hear no cries of pain, no begging for another chance, no pounding on the door of the ark. Nothing. They are silent. After the fact they simply slip out of the story, seemingly forgotten. Nothing is even mentioned of their remains, of the millions of bloated, rotting carcasses strewn over the creation of which God had said earlier, “it is good”. Could this be the same God who gave us the story of The Good Samaritan, the one who told us to help the poor, heal the sick, and visit the imprisoned; who taught us about unconditional love?
We can never fully uncover these mysteries. There is a line of theological thought, though, that helps us take a step past the obvious. If we go back to chapter six (6:3) we read, “Then the Lord said, ‘I will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’” If you remember, and surely you do, we said at the time that these words seemed strange, for the text tells us elsewhere that Noah himself lived to be 950 years of age; his sons also had long lives. So there must be another way to understand God’s meaning by saying, ‘his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’ God, the story implies, was talking with Noah. He had observed the total breakdown of morality among his people, and says to Noah in frustration, ‘‘I will not contend with man forever…’ (Did they think he would? Do we?) But that statement alone certainly doesn’t close the door on the possibility of redemption. Why? Because God goes on to say, ‘…his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’ In other words, God is giving them a hundred and twenty additional years to turn back to him; a hundred and twenty years to repent. And if that is the proper understanding, God surely must have asked Noah to be the proclaimer of this good news to his lost generation, a sort of prophet, even before the days of the prophets. For Noah was the one God saw as righteous. Noah was the one called to bear witness to God’s grace in a world that was under a sentence of death. I’m beginning to see some parallels here to my Christian beliefs. Are you?
But did anything change? Obviously not! For now we are back to the place in the story we read today. God comes to Noah again, declares again that he is righteous in his generation, and tells him to get into the ark that now was completed; rain was on the way; or, according to your local weather man or woman, a thirty percent chance! I’ll bet Noah was saying to himself, “Gosh! I hope I didn’t cut too many constructions costs here.” Anyway, the point being that the millions of people who perished HAD been given the chance to repent and they chose not to do so. Are the parallels we mentioned still visible? Looking at it this way, the Flood story represents the ultimatum of Jesus, his own call to repentance. It also tells of consequences for not doing so. Or, as Paul said, “The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life.” (Romans 6:23)
But this is still a gruesome story that strikes at our concept of a loving God. Did God actually do this, or does the story mean that he allowed humankind to die of its own evil malignancy? We can only ponder that. I’m not sure, really, if it even makes a difference. How would death be different if one is killed by a God-created disaster or allowed to drown in the consequences of one’s self-inflicted sinfulness? One thing we don’t have to wonder about, though; the faithful one was saved.
Whichever way you choose to believe, there is something else in the story that is nothing less than astounding, given the things we think we know about God. Let’s go back to chapter six (6:6) where we read, “The LORD was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain.” As we said last week, the phrase, “was grieved”, is rendered in some other translations as, “was sorry” or “it repenteth him” (It caused God to feel the need to repent for what he had done). Taken together, the Lord, looking at this creation grown evil, his being sorry and feeling the need to repent, all leads to one of two inescapable inferences: either God made a mistake or he is showing us what to do when we err! What other conclusions are we to reach when the text says he wished he hadn’t done it; he had tried to persuade humans to change the way they chose to live their lives, but this didn’t work either. They refused; as we read in chapter six (6:5), “The LORD saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time.” So God repented by destroying them (or allowing them to destroy themselves). And God repeats, “…for I am grieved that I have made them.” Those tragic words underlie the Christian belief, born two thousand years ago, about the indictment under which we live even today. They necessitate both God’s need to send a savior, and our need to accept his offer of salvation through that savior. “…for I am grieved that I have made them.”
In our next lesson we will look into the implications of this, of the text saying “God was sorry”; and “it repenteth him.”
Genesis 7, Boarding the Ark
HAMACO Lesson #3, 1/25/09
First, read the sections of chapter seven from “J”; then read them from the “P” sections. These sections are as follows: from “J”—7:1-5; 7-10; 12; 17; and 22-24. From “P”—7:6; 11; 13-16; and 18-21.
How would you respond if someone said to you that it wasn’t Adolf Hitler who committed the greatest act of genocide in the history of the world, but God? Does the story of the Flood tell us that God could actually do that? This story is referred to by some as a saga, because a saga tells of something in prehistory which no one could have observed. In sagas such as this one, the basic truth it underlies, the reason it is told, is veiled. But (as we said in the last lesson), the people who read it with an inquiring mind come to recognize its essential truth.
But why must the truth be veiled? Why do we have to search for it? As you know from your own experience, what we find for ourselves is so much more believable than what we are asked or told to believe. And to search for the truth in the Flood saga is a good thing for another reason. For what we learn there carries over to many other stories of brutality found in the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Old Testament, sometimes wrongly called the Books of Moses). Such stories cause many people to dismiss even the possibility of a just and loving God. Consequently, they want no part of our religion, even declaring it a negative force in human history. So searching for the truth about God and his actions is what this lesson is about, but using only the narrow focus of the Flood saga. Let’s try today to shed some light on how to understand this story.
To begin, fast forward a few thousand years and we find ourselves, and not as an entirely peaceful people either. Just in the past one hundred years we have been involved in no fewer than seven wars or other major military actions. This doesn’t even count the thousands of murders on our streets and in our homes that occur each year. And we aren’t the only ones; Israel and the Islamic peoples (who, according to our common beliefs, are our fellow descendents of Abraham) can hardly be characterized as peaceful either.
Regarding most Americans, though, I grant you we believe we go to war reluctantly and for honorable reasons, and I am one of them. But that is our perception—our reality. The perceptions on the other side of the world are quite different—and that, for them, is just as real. The way most of our enemies see it, our violent actions aren’t surprising; for instance, it’s easy, even though erroneous, to connect our belief in the Bible to acquiescence in the mass murder God committed in the flood story. How are we to deal with that? Arguing the point is useless; no one ever wins an argument. Instead of that, let’s concentrate on our own understanding. How do we Christians infer the meaning of God creating a flood that destroyed almost all life on earth, and secondarily, does that give us the right to destroy those with whom WE are estranged? You may think that is a ridiculous question, but remember in the minds of our enemies, it isn’t ridiculous at all.
When reading this saga I can’t help but grieve over the millions who perished. You know, they were more than just millions, they were people. Each had a life, each had a story; in many ways they are us. They had children and grandchildren; they loved and were loved. Such an event makes the devastation Hurricane Ike visited on Galveston or Crystal Beach trivial by comparison. But we can relate because we remember our horror at the devastation we saw there, the lists of missing persons presumed dead, a grief only exacerbated, not be numbers, but by the many personal stories we heard.
Were all of Noah’s neighbors bad? If so, what happened to their chance for repentance? At Crystal Beach most escaped. Were they good? This has to be more than a simplistic “good” versus “bad” story. The narrative tells us nothing of the victims, other than, as we pointed out last week, they had become violent and corrupted. Yet from them we hear no cries of pain, no begging for another chance, no pounding on the door of the ark. Nothing. They are silent. After the fact they simply slip out of the story, seemingly forgotten. Nothing is even mentioned of their remains, of the millions of bloated, rotting carcasses strewn over the creation of which God had said earlier, “it is good”. Could this be the same God who gave us the story of The Good Samaritan, the one who told us to help the poor, heal the sick, and visit the imprisoned; who taught us about unconditional love?
We can never fully uncover these mysteries. There is a line of theological thought, though, that helps us take a step past the obvious. If we go back to chapter six (6:3) we read, “Then the Lord said, ‘I will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’” If you remember, and surely you do, we said at the time that these words seemed strange, for the text tells us elsewhere that Noah himself lived to be 950 years of age; his sons also had long lives. So there must be another way to understand God’s meaning by saying, ‘his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’ God, the story implies, was talking with Noah. He had observed the total breakdown of morality among his people, and says to Noah in frustration, ‘‘I will not contend with man forever…’ (Did they think he would? Do we?) But that statement alone certainly doesn’t close the door on the possibility of redemption. Why? Because God goes on to say, ‘…his days will be a hundred and twenty years.’ In other words, God is giving them a hundred and twenty additional years to turn back to him; a hundred and twenty years to repent. And if that is the proper understanding, God surely must have asked Noah to be the proclaimer of this good news to his lost generation, a sort of prophet, even before the days of the prophets. For Noah was the one God saw as righteous. Noah was the one called to bear witness to God’s grace in a world that was under a sentence of death. I’m beginning to see some parallels here to my Christian beliefs. Are you?
But did anything change? Obviously not! For now we are back to the place in the story we read today. God comes to Noah again, declares again that he is righteous in his generation, and tells him to get into the ark that now was completed; rain was on the way; or, according to your local weather man or woman, a thirty percent chance! I’ll bet Noah was saying to himself, “Gosh! I hope I didn’t cut too many constructions costs here.” Anyway, the point being that the millions of people who perished HAD been given the chance to repent and they chose not to do so. Are the parallels we mentioned still visible? Looking at it this way, the Flood story represents the ultimatum of Jesus, his own call to repentance. It also tells of consequences for not doing so. Or, as Paul said, “The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life.” (Romans 6:23)
But this is still a gruesome story that strikes at our concept of a loving God. Did God actually do this, or does the story mean that he allowed humankind to die of its own evil malignancy? We can only ponder that. I’m not sure, really, if it even makes a difference. How would death be different if one is killed by a God-created disaster or allowed to drown in the consequences of one’s self-inflicted sinfulness? One thing we don’t have to wonder about, though; the faithful one was saved.
Whichever way you choose to believe, there is something else in the story that is nothing less than astounding, given the things we think we know about God. Let’s go back to chapter six (6:6) where we read, “The LORD was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain.” As we said last week, the phrase, “was grieved”, is rendered in some other translations as, “was sorry” or “it repenteth him” (It caused God to feel the need to repent for what he had done). Taken together, the Lord, looking at this creation grown evil, his being sorry and feeling the need to repent, all leads to one of two inescapable inferences: either God made a mistake or he is showing us what to do when we err! What other conclusions are we to reach when the text says he wished he hadn’t done it; he had tried to persuade humans to change the way they chose to live their lives, but this didn’t work either. They refused; as we read in chapter six (6:5), “The LORD saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time.” So God repented by destroying them (or allowing them to destroy themselves). And God repeats, “…for I am grieved that I have made them.” Those tragic words underlie the Christian belief, born two thousand years ago, about the indictment under which we live even today. They necessitate both God’s need to send a savior, and our need to accept his offer of salvation through that savior. “…for I am grieved that I have made them.”
In our next lesson we will look into the implications of this, of the text saying “God was sorry”; and “it repenteth him.”
Sunday, January 4, 2009
THE FLOOD
Genesis 6: 1-8, “What Happened?”
Lesson #1, 1/4/09
Today we begin a series of lessons on Noah and the Flood described in Genesis chapters six through nine. My sources are the NIV Study Bible (and notes); The Apocrypha; Genesis by Walter Brueggemann, from the Interpretation Bible Series; The Interpreter’s Bible Commentary; and the book, In the End the Beginning, by Jurgen Moltmann, just in case you want to check me out on any of this. The most important resource, though, is that you read this in your own Bibles and take the time to meditate on its meaning. Is it no more than a wonderfully interesting tale about a flood? It may be; similar flood stories have been found in almost all ancient civilizations. Did it really happen? It may have, but most current scholars doubt it and few even debate that anymore. Could it have happened? Of course, if you believe that, “with God all things are possible.” Is it about more than a flood, though? You bet it is! And that is where we are headed in the next few weeks.
READ THE TEXT
Genesis 6: 1-8, “What Happened?”
Lesson #1, 1/4/09
Today we begin a series of lessons on Noah and the Flood described in Genesis chapters six through nine. My sources are the NIV Study Bible (and notes); The Apocrypha; Genesis by Walter Brueggemann, from the Interpretation Bible Series; The Interpreter’s Bible Commentary; and the book, In the End the Beginning, by Jurgen Moltmann, just in case you want to check me out on any of this. The most important resource, though, is that you read this in your own Bibles and take the time to meditate on its meaning. Is it no more than a wonderfully interesting tale about a flood? It may be; similar flood stories have been found in almost all ancient civilizations. Did it really happen? It may have, but most current scholars doubt it and few even debate that anymore. Could it have happened? Of course, if you believe that, “with God all things are possible.” Is it about more than a flood, though? You bet it is! And that is where we are headed in the next few weeks.
READ THE TEXT
Have you ever had an itch that you just had to scratch? Well I have a recurring theological itch that I must scratch now, even before we get into the meat of the flood narrative. Actually, it is a part of the story that no one has yet been able to understand. And maybe that explains my fascination with the origin of evil. Here we have a creation so racked by sin that its own creator decides to destroy it. There is something very unsettling about this. If God created everything, did he create evil? Holy Scripture provides no definitive answer, but I continue to search anyway. There is this feeling I have that won’t away; God doesn’t want me to take someone else’s answer, but find it for myself, even if it turns out that there is no answer.
Walter Brueggemann suggests that the sin narratives which begin with 1) Adam and Eve in the Garden, 2) Cain and Abel, 3) and continue to the "Sons of God" from the first part of this chapter all suggest that the problem (evil) is that creation refuses to be God’s creation, refuses to honor God as God. Thus both the world and God are denied their rightful place. According to Paul, in Romans 1:25, “They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator…” The prophet, Jeremiah (2:11) has God saying, “Has a nation ever changed its gods? (Yet they [the things people worship] are not gods at all.) But my people have exchanged their Glory (Me) for worthless idols.” Then the prophet Hosea (4:7) writes for God: “The more the priests increased, the more they sinned against me; they exchanged their Glory (Me) for something disgraceful.”
This seems to reveal the essence of sin: not worshipping God as God. But still we are left wondering about the origin of sin. From where could it have come? Jurgen Moltmann writes of a Jewish interpretation that asks why God created man and woman at all, knowing as he must have, that they were going to cause him much grief and pain. (We’ve probably asked ourselves that question more than once regarding our own kids!) But the flood story, Moltmann believes, provides this elusive answer. The narrative tells us specifically that God “grieved”, and that he “repented”; meaning he was sorry for what he had done. In other words, God made a mistake, and it was so egregious that he decided to wipe the whole thing out! I’ll bet you’ve done that too; you created something and didn’t like it, so you destroyed it. I know I have sat for hours working on a paragraph, read and re-read it, and then said, “Nah!” and hit the delete key. In fact, I don’t even think about the time I spent; I just know it isn’t what I wanted—it doesn’t measure up—so out it goes. I made it so I have the right to get rid of it. Or as Bill Cosby said to his teenage son, “I brought you into this world and I can take you out!”
So since I have found no other answer, could it be that the origin of sin is God—who made a mistake? Does my own search for the origin of sin and maybe yours as well, culminate with the insightful words of C. S. Lewis: “I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer.”
But there is another way of thinking that is a little more traditional. In The Interpreter’s Bible we find a quotation from Ecclesiasticus (“The Wisdom of Jesus, son of Sirach”). (Ecclesiasticus, or Sirach, is a book in the Apocrypha which is a collection of books included in almost all Christian Bibles throughout the world except Protestant Bibles.) Ecclesiasticus 15:14 says, “He (God) himself made man from the beginning, and left him in the hand of his [own] counsel [or ‘imagination’].” According to The Interpreter’s Bible, “This verse is part of…Sirach’s explanation of the presence of moral evil in God’s creation. Its origin is within man…” Evil, then, would be a product of our own imaginations which are corrupted by our failure to acknowledge God as God. I think it would be wise now to leave you with those thoughts since I see some of you about to go into cardiac arrest. Remember, though, that I never committed myself as your teacher to sweet platitudes. If I can’t cause you to think, I have failed. But if you silently refuse to think, you have failed!
As with almost all of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Old Testament), this story has at least two authors, or sources. They are called “J” and “P”; one (“J”), refers to God as Yahweh (our Jehovah) and is the earlier tradition; the other, (“P”), was written later by priests. I only bring this up because we will see in chapter six that the flood story is told twice, as was the creation story. Rather than omit one tradition, the chroniclers included both.
It is important, too, to know when these stories were put together. We are accustomed to seeing an event happening anywhere in the world immediately on television and then reading about it the next morning in the newspapers. The flood story didn't happen that way. There was no reporter embedded in the ark! The flood supposedly happened centuries before it was written about, and what we have is not even the first written account. So no, it wasn’t a first hand account by a member of the Noah family after the ark landed; and no, Moses probably didn’t write it later as was (and still is) thought by many. It was almost certainly written as we now read it during the dark days of the Babylonian captivity, sometime in the sixth century B.C. What is important, though, is the hope it offers in the face of the seeming disappearance of God. The Hebrews felt abandoned and vulnerable because of their displacement, by being enslaved, and by the destruction of the Temple which, for them, was their “refuge”, the place where God lived—God’s own house. I mean if God couldn’t defend his own house, why not find a God who could. Thus was the temptation—thus is the temptation. In modern vernacular that might sound like this: “If God can’t help me get what I want, I will resort to the money God (to which I have access) or the power God (to which I do as well!”)
Now let's spend some time on verses five through eight. These are the operative verses if we are to glean information helpful to us as we live today.
(These verses, five through eight, come from the “J” version) 5) The Lord saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time. The KJV renders it thus, “and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually”. Our imagination, someone once said, is our creativity. It seems less than likely that God gave us a creative imagination and then curtailed it. We either have imagination or we don’t. There is no half-imagination. So maybe man did create evil, using his God-given imagination. But then we come to verse 6:
6) “The Lord was grieved” (KJV: “And it repented the Lord”, or it saddened him; made him sorry), that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain.” This passage, saying, ‘The Lord was grieved’ and, ‘his heart was filled with pain’ instantly grips us in solidarity with God. It owes this pathos, its emotive power to identify, to what is called anthropological characterization. ‘Anthropological’ means describing something, in this case God, in human terms; he was ‘grieved’, ‘was sorry’, ‘filled with pain’; he even has a heart. And how else are we to know God? He gave us no other receptors than human ones. Or did he? We can hardly speak of the indwelling Holy Spirit as human, can we?
Anyway, to Moltmann this “grieving”, necessitating “repentance” is seen as a conflict within God himself. You say, “Come on Phil, a conflict within God?” Let me ask you this: is it any different than Jesus, God on the cross, crying to God, the God in heaven, “Why have you forsaken me?” God forsaking God? How can we understand this except as a conflict within God himself? We are reading today from an Old Testament expression of God’s suffering that will eventually take on human qualities as it is lived out on the cross. The bottom line, though, seems to be that when we sin, God suffers—thus, “the suffering servant”. That is why, when we hurt one another, it is to God that we must first confess and repent; not to our victim. This, “Well if I’ve hurt you I’m sorry” quasi apology won’t do. Only under the aegis of God’s forgiveness can we approach our victims honestly with genuine repentance.
7) So the Lord said, "I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth—men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air—for I am grieved (KJV: “it repenteth me”) that I have made them." Why the animals, birds and creatures? Aren’t they innocent victims? Maybe. But we must accept that when we choose to foul our nest, we aren’t the only ones who suffer. The innocent suffer too. And if there are ‘innocent victims’ (and there is a large body of theological and philosophical writing saying they don’t, in fact, exist), they are our responsibility, not God’s. William Sloan Coffin says it best: “So when in anguish over…human violence done to innocent victims, we ask of God, ‘How could you let that happen?’ It’s well to remember that God at that very moment is asking the exact same question of us.”
8) But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.
“But”… will God’s mercy triumph over his justice?
Sunday, December 21, 2008
CHRISTMAS, 2008, lesson #2
Matthew 2:1-12
Last Sunday near the end of the lesson I said that, “It is difficult to believe in Christmas without that star!” Today let us add to that. “And it is difficult to believe in that special star without thinking of those three Kings from the Orient, the wise men or Magi”.
Today we will focus on the Magi. If you don’t already know, “Magi” is the plural form of the Latin word, “Magus”. We use the plural form because legend has it that there were three of them (actually, no one knows how many there were). And, they are also sometimes referred to as kings, as in “We Three Kings”; but that too is wrong. We do know they weren’t kings, even though they were far from being ordinary. These particular Magi were probably from Persia, what is now Iran, and they were from a tribe called Medians. Media was a part of the Persian Empire, and at one time they had tried unsuccessfully to overthrow its leaders . Eventually, the whole tribe became priests, much as the tribe of Levi functioned for the Jews. According to scholar, William Barclay, they were, “skilled in philosophy, medicine and natural science”, the learn-ed men of Persia; and because of the Persian reverence for astrology, Medians eventually became known as holy men or Magi. That they were astrologists, as were many of the educated elite then, bears on our story because the Magi believed that the movement of stars was predictive of events of the future. So the story about a special star in the Jesus narrative has something to recommend its historicity, even though no one today knows the exact star to which the story refers. There are many theories concerning various planets and stars, but little agreement. Even non-believers admit, though, that this event could have happened in the context of that time and place.
Just a point of historical interest here before turning to Matthew 2:1-12. The birth stories from Matthew and Luke are the only birth stories we have. And since neither Matthew nor Luke was present at the birth event, their versions of the story must have come from someone who was, or from someone who heard it from someone who was. Now we know that both Matthew and Luke borrowed extensively from the earlier Gospel of Mark, 1) but Mark does not even mention the Christmas story. He starts his gospel with the adult Jesus and John the Baptist. 2) The Gospel of John, instead of a birth story, uses the majestic words of Greek rhetoric to describe Jesus’ appearance on the pages of history, 3) and strangely, nowhere does Paul mention Jesus’ birth.
So we know that both Matthew and Luke had a source other than Mark for this special story. But the versions of their stories are different in several details, so different sources are probable. At least some scholars think Joseph, Jesus’ father, was the original source for Matthew’s story and his mother, Mary, was Luke’s source. Without going into more detail, and there are other theories about this, let me add that the whole Matthew birth story gives evidence of being told by a man, while a woman, possibly Mary, could have been Luke’s source. With that in mind, let’s now read from Matthew 2: 1-12.
What a beautiful and interesting story. It’s a blessing in itself as evidenced by the fact that millions of Christians read it every year and never seem to grow tired of doing so. Still, its beauty notwithstanding, I contend there is more to it than meets the casual eye. In fact, I don’t even think this story, at its deepest level, is about Magi. It does, though, seem that God worked his will in these real historical people much as he does us today. He blessed their venturing out in ways we can recognize in our own lives. This story, don’t forget, was written by a Jew, and Jewish writers almost always built layered levels of meaning into their stories. So this one, on the surface, meant exactly what was written. But there is a layer beneath the surface, and a profound meaning can also be found there. This is usually a metaphorical meaning and in this one the Magi are us; consequently, their attributes are what we can recognize in ourselves.
Since we have read this story many times, and certainly appreciate its surface beauty, let’s explore what is hidden and maybe even just as profound, the layered meaning with which it is underwritten, and accessible only to those who search. Now keep in mind that doing this negates not even one word of the literal meaning of the story; but it does allow us to build on it, and, most importantly, find ourselves somewhere in God’s overarching narrative, as we are legitimized by the past (these stories) and assured of the future (its prophesies).
The Magi’s quest for knowledge reveals a willingness to venture out, and I hope each of us today will seek our own willingness to venture out by seeing our qualities in them. Their first quality was intelligence, something for which the Magi were known, and indeed, a requirement of their profession. But is that any different than us? Intelligence means one has the ability to absorb information and convert it into knowledge, a process called cognition. While cognitive ability is not the same for all people, it is most rare when combined with the innate ability to reason at a high level. These are qualities with which only a few are blessed; they are special gifts. One does not know why one possesses them, no more than does a great athlete or artist; we can only be thankful if we do. But it was the proper use of some of God’s most unique gifts that was the example set for us by the Magi. They did not rest in smug satisfaction; they did what God equipped them to do. We can do no less; in doing so we, like they, honor God just by embarking on the journey.
This leads into our second point of comparison. Actually, it is two points, curiosity and motivation, but let us consider them at the same time. What a wonderful quality is curiosity. I cannot imagine life without it, yet some people never test the limits of life’s possibilities. I went to pick up a friend at his apartment complex one day in Lubbock. As he got into my car I asked him how long he had lived there. “About three months”, he said. As we exited the complex there was a stop sign before entering the street. “Turn left here,” he said. “Where would we go if we turned right” I asked out of curiosity. “I don’t know” he said, “I’ve never turned right.” The Magi had never traveled this road before either. Yet they embarked on it, seeking someone they didn’t even know.
Contrary to most Christmas stories, plays and nativity scenes, most scholars believe that Jesus was at least six months of age or older when the Magi event took place. Even the text seems to affirm as much in verses nine and eleven where it refers to Jesus as a “child” rather than a baby in a manger. Interesting as that is, though, it isn’t even the point, for the story would stand either way. The real point for consideration here is that the curiosity of the Magi is so descriptive of us. For instance, almost everyone by his or her own station in life, has shown a fair amount of curiosity. But are you curious enough to turn right, when all you’ve done in life is turn left? The second step in acquiring something of value is enough curiosity to want to go to where it lies. I know many of you have done that—maybe all of you. And many times it wasn’t easy and the journey took much longer than the six months the journey of the Magi is estimated to have taken.
It is when one combines curiosity with motivation, though, that discoveries are made. Motivation is a sort of intellectual energy that propels us on quests. It was obviously abundant in the Magi to cause them to embark on such a journey. But that same abundance of motivation I see often in you. I know you as people who are not satisfied just to exist. But are you motivated, or were you? Have you remained motivated? If not, maybe you set the bar too low. What if God’s star, as it continues to move across the heavens, is calling you to follow? In our story the Magi, once they found Jesus, didn’t stop, for their journey was not complete. They still had another journey in them; they returned to their homeland bearing new gifts.
Third, the Magi, scholars surmise, had both wealth and honor among their peers. They were listened to; they were respected. So can you imagine how many people listened and received the joy they brought home, the news of the coming of God to earth? They could bring the good news (and have it heard) because of whom and what God had allowed them to be. But what if they had 1) rested on their laurels, 2) fed only themselves, 3) profited as the sole beneficiaries of their luxury, 4) as many with similar blessings do today? Staggering numbers of people have acquired wealth, yet, never accomplished anything else of note. But the Magi did, for they obviously made courageous, decisions to venture out that enabled them far past what they ever envisioned for themselves.
And herein is the first most important point of our lesson. The Magi did not know what would be at the end of their journey, but they trusted in the journey itself. They believed. And they combined that with 1) their intelligence, which we have; 2) their curiosity, which we have; 3) their motivation, which we have; 4) their power, which we have; 5) and their wealth, which we have.
And the second most important point: what really mattered, and the only thing that mattered, was not what they had, but what they did with what they had. What if this Christmas you receive a cell phone, but no battery with it? That never happens, for manufacturers know that the value of a cell phone correlates directly with a charged battery; so it is included. It is not that the gift is unimportant, just that it needs a catalyst to unlock its real value. God gives his gifts in the same way. He includes a catalyst in the package of gifts he gives us; it may be 1) intelligence, 2) curiosity, 3) motivation, 4) power, 5) or wealth—any or all of them. It’s only in incredible shortsightedness that we correlate the value of his gifts to us with our own personal desires and refuse to use them for what he intended.
The Magi were blessed; but no more than are we. But the blessing did not end with them; they listened to that still, small voice within, that catalyst, and reacted to what they heard; only then did they reach their highest calling in life. If we do that, our star too, will finally come to the place where Jesus is. For there is a star, no less of God’s making, beckoning each of us.
So I invite you, this year, to seek, find and follow your star. Your gifts, no less than those of the Magi, will enable you to bring spiritual and physical healing to the lives of countless people who are hurting and need you. Only then will you truly have a Merry Christmas.
Last Sunday near the end of the lesson I said that, “It is difficult to believe in Christmas without that star!” Today let us add to that. “And it is difficult to believe in that special star without thinking of those three Kings from the Orient, the wise men or Magi”.
Today we will focus on the Magi. If you don’t already know, “Magi” is the plural form of the Latin word, “Magus”. We use the plural form because legend has it that there were three of them (actually, no one knows how many there were). And, they are also sometimes referred to as kings, as in “We Three Kings”; but that too is wrong. We do know they weren’t kings, even though they were far from being ordinary. These particular Magi were probably from Persia, what is now Iran, and they were from a tribe called Medians. Media was a part of the Persian Empire, and at one time they had tried unsuccessfully to overthrow its leaders . Eventually, the whole tribe became priests, much as the tribe of Levi functioned for the Jews. According to scholar, William Barclay, they were, “skilled in philosophy, medicine and natural science”, the learn-ed men of Persia; and because of the Persian reverence for astrology, Medians eventually became known as holy men or Magi. That they were astrologists, as were many of the educated elite then, bears on our story because the Magi believed that the movement of stars was predictive of events of the future. So the story about a special star in the Jesus narrative has something to recommend its historicity, even though no one today knows the exact star to which the story refers. There are many theories concerning various planets and stars, but little agreement. Even non-believers admit, though, that this event could have happened in the context of that time and place.
Just a point of historical interest here before turning to Matthew 2:1-12. The birth stories from Matthew and Luke are the only birth stories we have. And since neither Matthew nor Luke was present at the birth event, their versions of the story must have come from someone who was, or from someone who heard it from someone who was. Now we know that both Matthew and Luke borrowed extensively from the earlier Gospel of Mark, 1) but Mark does not even mention the Christmas story. He starts his gospel with the adult Jesus and John the Baptist. 2) The Gospel of John, instead of a birth story, uses the majestic words of Greek rhetoric to describe Jesus’ appearance on the pages of history, 3) and strangely, nowhere does Paul mention Jesus’ birth.
So we know that both Matthew and Luke had a source other than Mark for this special story. But the versions of their stories are different in several details, so different sources are probable. At least some scholars think Joseph, Jesus’ father, was the original source for Matthew’s story and his mother, Mary, was Luke’s source. Without going into more detail, and there are other theories about this, let me add that the whole Matthew birth story gives evidence of being told by a man, while a woman, possibly Mary, could have been Luke’s source. With that in mind, let’s now read from Matthew 2: 1-12.
What a beautiful and interesting story. It’s a blessing in itself as evidenced by the fact that millions of Christians read it every year and never seem to grow tired of doing so. Still, its beauty notwithstanding, I contend there is more to it than meets the casual eye. In fact, I don’t even think this story, at its deepest level, is about Magi. It does, though, seem that God worked his will in these real historical people much as he does us today. He blessed their venturing out in ways we can recognize in our own lives. This story, don’t forget, was written by a Jew, and Jewish writers almost always built layered levels of meaning into their stories. So this one, on the surface, meant exactly what was written. But there is a layer beneath the surface, and a profound meaning can also be found there. This is usually a metaphorical meaning and in this one the Magi are us; consequently, their attributes are what we can recognize in ourselves.
Since we have read this story many times, and certainly appreciate its surface beauty, let’s explore what is hidden and maybe even just as profound, the layered meaning with which it is underwritten, and accessible only to those who search. Now keep in mind that doing this negates not even one word of the literal meaning of the story; but it does allow us to build on it, and, most importantly, find ourselves somewhere in God’s overarching narrative, as we are legitimized by the past (these stories) and assured of the future (its prophesies).
The Magi’s quest for knowledge reveals a willingness to venture out, and I hope each of us today will seek our own willingness to venture out by seeing our qualities in them. Their first quality was intelligence, something for which the Magi were known, and indeed, a requirement of their profession. But is that any different than us? Intelligence means one has the ability to absorb information and convert it into knowledge, a process called cognition. While cognitive ability is not the same for all people, it is most rare when combined with the innate ability to reason at a high level. These are qualities with which only a few are blessed; they are special gifts. One does not know why one possesses them, no more than does a great athlete or artist; we can only be thankful if we do. But it was the proper use of some of God’s most unique gifts that was the example set for us by the Magi. They did not rest in smug satisfaction; they did what God equipped them to do. We can do no less; in doing so we, like they, honor God just by embarking on the journey.
This leads into our second point of comparison. Actually, it is two points, curiosity and motivation, but let us consider them at the same time. What a wonderful quality is curiosity. I cannot imagine life without it, yet some people never test the limits of life’s possibilities. I went to pick up a friend at his apartment complex one day in Lubbock. As he got into my car I asked him how long he had lived there. “About three months”, he said. As we exited the complex there was a stop sign before entering the street. “Turn left here,” he said. “Where would we go if we turned right” I asked out of curiosity. “I don’t know” he said, “I’ve never turned right.” The Magi had never traveled this road before either. Yet they embarked on it, seeking someone they didn’t even know.
Contrary to most Christmas stories, plays and nativity scenes, most scholars believe that Jesus was at least six months of age or older when the Magi event took place. Even the text seems to affirm as much in verses nine and eleven where it refers to Jesus as a “child” rather than a baby in a manger. Interesting as that is, though, it isn’t even the point, for the story would stand either way. The real point for consideration here is that the curiosity of the Magi is so descriptive of us. For instance, almost everyone by his or her own station in life, has shown a fair amount of curiosity. But are you curious enough to turn right, when all you’ve done in life is turn left? The second step in acquiring something of value is enough curiosity to want to go to where it lies. I know many of you have done that—maybe all of you. And many times it wasn’t easy and the journey took much longer than the six months the journey of the Magi is estimated to have taken.
It is when one combines curiosity with motivation, though, that discoveries are made. Motivation is a sort of intellectual energy that propels us on quests. It was obviously abundant in the Magi to cause them to embark on such a journey. But that same abundance of motivation I see often in you. I know you as people who are not satisfied just to exist. But are you motivated, or were you? Have you remained motivated? If not, maybe you set the bar too low. What if God’s star, as it continues to move across the heavens, is calling you to follow? In our story the Magi, once they found Jesus, didn’t stop, for their journey was not complete. They still had another journey in them; they returned to their homeland bearing new gifts.
Third, the Magi, scholars surmise, had both wealth and honor among their peers. They were listened to; they were respected. So can you imagine how many people listened and received the joy they brought home, the news of the coming of God to earth? They could bring the good news (and have it heard) because of whom and what God had allowed them to be. But what if they had 1) rested on their laurels, 2) fed only themselves, 3) profited as the sole beneficiaries of their luxury, 4) as many with similar blessings do today? Staggering numbers of people have acquired wealth, yet, never accomplished anything else of note. But the Magi did, for they obviously made courageous, decisions to venture out that enabled them far past what they ever envisioned for themselves.
And herein is the first most important point of our lesson. The Magi did not know what would be at the end of their journey, but they trusted in the journey itself. They believed. And they combined that with 1) their intelligence, which we have; 2) their curiosity, which we have; 3) their motivation, which we have; 4) their power, which we have; 5) and their wealth, which we have.
And the second most important point: what really mattered, and the only thing that mattered, was not what they had, but what they did with what they had. What if this Christmas you receive a cell phone, but no battery with it? That never happens, for manufacturers know that the value of a cell phone correlates directly with a charged battery; so it is included. It is not that the gift is unimportant, just that it needs a catalyst to unlock its real value. God gives his gifts in the same way. He includes a catalyst in the package of gifts he gives us; it may be 1) intelligence, 2) curiosity, 3) motivation, 4) power, 5) or wealth—any or all of them. It’s only in incredible shortsightedness that we correlate the value of his gifts to us with our own personal desires and refuse to use them for what he intended.
The Magi were blessed; but no more than are we. But the blessing did not end with them; they listened to that still, small voice within, that catalyst, and reacted to what they heard; only then did they reach their highest calling in life. If we do that, our star too, will finally come to the place where Jesus is. For there is a star, no less of God’s making, beckoning each of us.
So I invite you, this year, to seek, find and follow your star. Your gifts, no less than those of the Magi, will enable you to bring spiritual and physical healing to the lives of countless people who are hurting and need you. Only then will you truly have a Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 15, 2008
CHRISTMAS, 2008, #1
CHRISTMAS, 2008, lesson #1
December 14, 2008
First I want to thank you for the Christmas gift. As I use it I’ll remember your love and forbearance over this past year—and for the many years. Not all gifts are so thoughtful, though. Back when I was a basketball coach, on one December morning in the late ‘60’s after losing a close basketball game, I went to my mail box and my principal had gift-wrapped a road map for me. He was the principal who—I think it was the next spring—called me in one day and said, “Phil, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the school board has voted to renew your contract. The bad news is that the vote was 4 to 3.” So again, thank you; it has been a blessing for me to be the teacher of this class, and I try to never take that privilege for granted.
Before getting really Christmassy next Sunday, let’s look at how most latter day Christians have come to understand the Christmas story? We would like to think that for centuries and centuries the story was accepted just as first written. There have been disputes about parts of the Bible, though, since the first attempts to gather it into a canon. The ancient Christian fathers wrote much about this and had divided opinions themselves dating back to the first century. Then, in the eighteenth century came the Enlightenment era and progressively better tools for research into antiquity began to reveal inconsistencies in Bible translation. In fact, some of what we thought to be real stories of our faith turned out to be more myth than history. A true understanding, though, is more complicated than that, and usually recognizes that some of the Bible is literal/historical, portions of it are allegory, and a lot of it is somewhere in between. None of this, though, need reflect on the truth contained within. So our question for today is: should we think of Christmas as historical or allegorical?
To help us answer that let’s look at a well known passage of prophesy. In Isaiah 7:14 Isaiah tells King Ahaz, “Therefore (or behold) the Lord himself will give you a sign: the virgin will be with child and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” Taken literally, it was King Ahaz to whom God would give this sign; not to Mary and Joseph, nor to the shepherds or wise men. Yet most early Christian writers interpreted the verse as a historical prophesy about the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, who would be the Messiah. Such stories describing an important birth were common in those times. But did New Testament writers borrow from these stories? After all, none of them were there at Jesus’ birth. But Isaiah was a prophet and the gospel writers, looking back at his words, probably thought them a fitting way to describe the birth of Jesus; a “virgin” will conceive and bear a son. So did it really happen that way? Most Christians today believe it did.
But there are others who read this differently. First of all, let me say that there has arisen, especially since the enlightenment, a cadre of Christian scholars who adamantly oppose the traditional understanding of the Christmas story—and, indeed, other parts of the New Testament. I will ignore this concern for the time being, though, not because their scholarship is right or wrong, but because today I want to concentrate on some Jewish beliefs as put forth by an immanent Jewish scholar named James L. Kugel.
In Kugel's opinion, (now remember, he is a Jew) the passage we just read is not prophesy of a coming Messiah, but refers to a son to be born to King Ahaz of Judah. It seems, in Kugel's opinion that the reign of King Ahaz was less than stellar and, thus, his subjects looked forward to him having a son who would replace him and bring peace and prosperity to the kingdom. So the prophet Isaiah, Kugel’s theory goes, was brainstorming for ways for the king’s reign to be salvaged and put this forth as a possibility. But was it just that, only a muse to King Ahaz (Kugel's belief), as opposed to a prophetic vision shared with him which is the belief of most Christian exegetes.
For many, the answer hinges on the meaning of two words. The first word of the passage, reads “Therefore”, or “Behold”, as in, “Behold, the Lord himself will give you a sign…” If this is the correct rendering of the ancient Hebrew text, then it has to be a prophesy given by God and relayed by Isaiah to King Ahaz. “Behold” in biblical jargon means something is about to happen or already has, so for the gospel writers Isaiah’s fore-telling had to be from God—for did it not happen? God announced the messiah right then and there, some 500 years before the fact.
But there is controversy about whether the original Hebrew word means, “behold”, (the traditional Christian understanding), or as Kugel and others believe, the Hebrew word means “suppose”, as in, “Suppose the Lord himself [would] give you a sign…” If their understanding is correct Isaiah and King Ahaz would be contemplating a positive ending for Ahaz’s reign and Isaiah’s words would have a whole different meaning. An imperative from God, “Behold”, becomes humans casting about for answers; “Suppose…”
Now, here is the kicker: no one knows who’s right. Even James Kugel admits the ancient word could reasonably be rendered either way. So let’s look at another example. Respected exegetes from strong faith backgrounds also have genuine differences about this. The ancient word that we have always assumed meant “virgin” is challenged by others who say it means “young woman”. Was the Messiah to be born of a virgin or was Mary an ordinary young woman? Our text says: “The virgin will be with child and give birth to a son…” and I would hazard a guess that few of us think twice when we read that sentence. For the meaning of “virgin” is obvious, and it fits with one of the major components of the Christmas story; Jesus (a son) was born of Mary (a virgin).
But again, Kugel and others read this differently. Their contention, based on what they consider to be good evidence, is that the word “virgin” only crept into the scriptural text during the third century, B. C. when the Bible was first translated into Greek. Now the pagan Greeks had many superstitions and religious beliefs involving virgins, so it was natural for them to render “young woman” as “virgin”, believing it fit the meaning. Quite by accident this gave early Christian writers the key they needed; Isaiah’s prophesy became the Christmas story. There was no malice aforethought intended by the Greeks, mind you; remember that they did their part three hundred years before the birth of Jesus. Quoting Kugel, “…Isaiah’s “young woman” was translated as “parthenos”, which probably did mean “virgin” to the translators. (It seems unlikely, however, that in so translating they meant to imply an actual…virgin birth; more likely, they simply meant that a virgin would get married, become pregnant in the usual way, and then give birth.)”
So understandings of Isaiah 7:14 vary greatly. Mostly, they are shaped by scholars 1) who come from vastly different backgrounds, 2) many of whom were separated by hundreds, even thousands of years, 3) and undoubtedly had faith predispositions that were difficult to overcome, if, indeed, they had any desire to do so. And then there are what I call quasi-exegetes who try to attract attention by publishing headline grabbing opinions and advertise them widely as fact in order to sell books. And believe me, there are plenty of those. “But wait”, as television pitchman Billy Mays says so gratingly, “there’s more.” There is, in fact, another way to understand the Christmas story as we will hear it once again this year. We have the option to cast our adult reservations aside, allow ourselves to become vulnerable, and simply believe!
But maybe we’re just too wise for that. This past Wednesday night I spoke at the Refresh Service and made this statement: “I challenge each of you to find a time, hopefully soon … that you can slip away and be alone. Maybe it will be outside, alone in a star lit back yard … Look up toward heaven and pick out a star (Any star will do; God made them all.), and, for that one night each year, become as one with the wise men. Ponder that star as they must have; gaze at it with a believing heart, knowing it is a special sign God created just for you … the birth of Jesus the savior, can happen in the manger of your heart. That is the really good news … So be still and know that this is Christmas—a time like no other for of all who dare to claim their star.”
Later it dawned on me, there are many who, if they heard that, would think I was losing my grip on reality, wouldn’t they; speaking to adults as if they were children. They see this as another Santa Claus, or Easter bunny, or tooth fairy tale and probably cringe, a little embarrassed for me, an old teacher who is beginning to drift a little as he ages. A friend of mine once laughingly told me that his father, on his death bed, asked him, “Do you think there could be anything to that Jesus and Christianity stuff?” He hadn’t put any stock in such things in his life and he had taught his son well. But now, all the doors of his life were closing and, sadly, he knew it. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote from the prison in which he would be executed, “… [The world may have] surrendered on all secular problems, [but] there still remains the so-called ‘ultimate questions’—death [and] guilt—to which only ‘God’ can give an answer...” But to truly believe God can give an answer, or even that he has an answer to give, is difficult if you don’t believe in Christmas. And you can’t believe in Christmas without that star! Yes, it may sound unbelievable; it may even embarrass you to say you believe, maybe more to say what you believe, but that star seen by the wise men remains ever present. Maybe it was because they did see and follow that star that they were called “wise men” in the first place.
Actor and comedian, Woody Allen, once said, “The lion and the lamb shall lie down together, but the lamb won’t get much sleep.” Amusing as that is, I must disagree completely. And that brings me to the point of this lesson: the Bible is both history and allegory; so may be the Christmas story. But these words, we are taught, come from God’s Spirit to ours. So if I believe in a creator God, why would I have any problem believing in his holy star; and that special star would have no meaning at all without the Christmas story.
My proof of the veracity of Christmas is that it brings me peace—a “peace that passes understanding”. I have no need to verify that Jesus stuff; I choose to believe. Consequently, I have no problem with the lamb lying down with the lion. Neither, I believe, will the lamb.
December 14, 2008
First I want to thank you for the Christmas gift. As I use it I’ll remember your love and forbearance over this past year—and for the many years. Not all gifts are so thoughtful, though. Back when I was a basketball coach, on one December morning in the late ‘60’s after losing a close basketball game, I went to my mail box and my principal had gift-wrapped a road map for me. He was the principal who—I think it was the next spring—called me in one day and said, “Phil, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the school board has voted to renew your contract. The bad news is that the vote was 4 to 3.” So again, thank you; it has been a blessing for me to be the teacher of this class, and I try to never take that privilege for granted.
Before getting really Christmassy next Sunday, let’s look at how most latter day Christians have come to understand the Christmas story? We would like to think that for centuries and centuries the story was accepted just as first written. There have been disputes about parts of the Bible, though, since the first attempts to gather it into a canon. The ancient Christian fathers wrote much about this and had divided opinions themselves dating back to the first century. Then, in the eighteenth century came the Enlightenment era and progressively better tools for research into antiquity began to reveal inconsistencies in Bible translation. In fact, some of what we thought to be real stories of our faith turned out to be more myth than history. A true understanding, though, is more complicated than that, and usually recognizes that some of the Bible is literal/historical, portions of it are allegory, and a lot of it is somewhere in between. None of this, though, need reflect on the truth contained within. So our question for today is: should we think of Christmas as historical or allegorical?
To help us answer that let’s look at a well known passage of prophesy. In Isaiah 7:14 Isaiah tells King Ahaz, “Therefore (or behold) the Lord himself will give you a sign: the virgin will be with child and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” Taken literally, it was King Ahaz to whom God would give this sign; not to Mary and Joseph, nor to the shepherds or wise men. Yet most early Christian writers interpreted the verse as a historical prophesy about the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, who would be the Messiah. Such stories describing an important birth were common in those times. But did New Testament writers borrow from these stories? After all, none of them were there at Jesus’ birth. But Isaiah was a prophet and the gospel writers, looking back at his words, probably thought them a fitting way to describe the birth of Jesus; a “virgin” will conceive and bear a son. So did it really happen that way? Most Christians today believe it did.
But there are others who read this differently. First of all, let me say that there has arisen, especially since the enlightenment, a cadre of Christian scholars who adamantly oppose the traditional understanding of the Christmas story—and, indeed, other parts of the New Testament. I will ignore this concern for the time being, though, not because their scholarship is right or wrong, but because today I want to concentrate on some Jewish beliefs as put forth by an immanent Jewish scholar named James L. Kugel.
In Kugel's opinion, (now remember, he is a Jew) the passage we just read is not prophesy of a coming Messiah, but refers to a son to be born to King Ahaz of Judah. It seems, in Kugel's opinion that the reign of King Ahaz was less than stellar and, thus, his subjects looked forward to him having a son who would replace him and bring peace and prosperity to the kingdom. So the prophet Isaiah, Kugel’s theory goes, was brainstorming for ways for the king’s reign to be salvaged and put this forth as a possibility. But was it just that, only a muse to King Ahaz (Kugel's belief), as opposed to a prophetic vision shared with him which is the belief of most Christian exegetes.
For many, the answer hinges on the meaning of two words. The first word of the passage, reads “Therefore”, or “Behold”, as in, “Behold, the Lord himself will give you a sign…” If this is the correct rendering of the ancient Hebrew text, then it has to be a prophesy given by God and relayed by Isaiah to King Ahaz. “Behold” in biblical jargon means something is about to happen or already has, so for the gospel writers Isaiah’s fore-telling had to be from God—for did it not happen? God announced the messiah right then and there, some 500 years before the fact.
But there is controversy about whether the original Hebrew word means, “behold”, (the traditional Christian understanding), or as Kugel and others believe, the Hebrew word means “suppose”, as in, “Suppose the Lord himself [would] give you a sign…” If their understanding is correct Isaiah and King Ahaz would be contemplating a positive ending for Ahaz’s reign and Isaiah’s words would have a whole different meaning. An imperative from God, “Behold”, becomes humans casting about for answers; “Suppose…”
Now, here is the kicker: no one knows who’s right. Even James Kugel admits the ancient word could reasonably be rendered either way. So let’s look at another example. Respected exegetes from strong faith backgrounds also have genuine differences about this. The ancient word that we have always assumed meant “virgin” is challenged by others who say it means “young woman”. Was the Messiah to be born of a virgin or was Mary an ordinary young woman? Our text says: “The virgin will be with child and give birth to a son…” and I would hazard a guess that few of us think twice when we read that sentence. For the meaning of “virgin” is obvious, and it fits with one of the major components of the Christmas story; Jesus (a son) was born of Mary (a virgin).
But again, Kugel and others read this differently. Their contention, based on what they consider to be good evidence, is that the word “virgin” only crept into the scriptural text during the third century, B. C. when the Bible was first translated into Greek. Now the pagan Greeks had many superstitions and religious beliefs involving virgins, so it was natural for them to render “young woman” as “virgin”, believing it fit the meaning. Quite by accident this gave early Christian writers the key they needed; Isaiah’s prophesy became the Christmas story. There was no malice aforethought intended by the Greeks, mind you; remember that they did their part three hundred years before the birth of Jesus. Quoting Kugel, “…Isaiah’s “young woman” was translated as “parthenos”, which probably did mean “virgin” to the translators. (It seems unlikely, however, that in so translating they meant to imply an actual…virgin birth; more likely, they simply meant that a virgin would get married, become pregnant in the usual way, and then give birth.)”
So understandings of Isaiah 7:14 vary greatly. Mostly, they are shaped by scholars 1) who come from vastly different backgrounds, 2) many of whom were separated by hundreds, even thousands of years, 3) and undoubtedly had faith predispositions that were difficult to overcome, if, indeed, they had any desire to do so. And then there are what I call quasi-exegetes who try to attract attention by publishing headline grabbing opinions and advertise them widely as fact in order to sell books. And believe me, there are plenty of those. “But wait”, as television pitchman Billy Mays says so gratingly, “there’s more.” There is, in fact, another way to understand the Christmas story as we will hear it once again this year. We have the option to cast our adult reservations aside, allow ourselves to become vulnerable, and simply believe!
But maybe we’re just too wise for that. This past Wednesday night I spoke at the Refresh Service and made this statement: “I challenge each of you to find a time, hopefully soon … that you can slip away and be alone. Maybe it will be outside, alone in a star lit back yard … Look up toward heaven and pick out a star (Any star will do; God made them all.), and, for that one night each year, become as one with the wise men. Ponder that star as they must have; gaze at it with a believing heart, knowing it is a special sign God created just for you … the birth of Jesus the savior, can happen in the manger of your heart. That is the really good news … So be still and know that this is Christmas—a time like no other for of all who dare to claim their star.”
Later it dawned on me, there are many who, if they heard that, would think I was losing my grip on reality, wouldn’t they; speaking to adults as if they were children. They see this as another Santa Claus, or Easter bunny, or tooth fairy tale and probably cringe, a little embarrassed for me, an old teacher who is beginning to drift a little as he ages. A friend of mine once laughingly told me that his father, on his death bed, asked him, “Do you think there could be anything to that Jesus and Christianity stuff?” He hadn’t put any stock in such things in his life and he had taught his son well. But now, all the doors of his life were closing and, sadly, he knew it. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote from the prison in which he would be executed, “… [The world may have] surrendered on all secular problems, [but] there still remains the so-called ‘ultimate questions’—death [and] guilt—to which only ‘God’ can give an answer...” But to truly believe God can give an answer, or even that he has an answer to give, is difficult if you don’t believe in Christmas. And you can’t believe in Christmas without that star! Yes, it may sound unbelievable; it may even embarrass you to say you believe, maybe more to say what you believe, but that star seen by the wise men remains ever present. Maybe it was because they did see and follow that star that they were called “wise men” in the first place.
Actor and comedian, Woody Allen, once said, “The lion and the lamb shall lie down together, but the lamb won’t get much sleep.” Amusing as that is, I must disagree completely. And that brings me to the point of this lesson: the Bible is both history and allegory; so may be the Christmas story. But these words, we are taught, come from God’s Spirit to ours. So if I believe in a creator God, why would I have any problem believing in his holy star; and that special star would have no meaning at all without the Christmas story.
My proof of the veracity of Christmas is that it brings me peace—a “peace that passes understanding”. I have no need to verify that Jesus stuff; I choose to believe. Consequently, I have no problem with the lamb lying down with the lion. Neither, I believe, will the lamb.
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