Moberly on the Avoidability and Inevidability of Disobedience

We find that the story [of Genesis 3] in fact contains two distinct points, depending upon how one reads it. If one takes the story as a whole, then the words of judgment in 3:14-19 are part of what happens when man is disobedient. If one takes the words in 3:14-19 in their own right, they show that man is disobedient. The former reading implies that disobedience is not inevitable–obedience to Torah is a real possibility for man (cf. Deut. 30:11-14). The latter implies that disobedience is in fact universal. Although there is a certain tension between these two points, their conflation in the text can be understood in the same sort of way as one of the theological paradoxes of the flood narrative. There, although man is universally sinful (Gen 6:5), Noah finds favour in the eyes of God (6:8) and is explicitly said to be righteous (6:9). Even more strikingly, God’s final pronouncement of the enduring sinfulness of man’s heart (8:21) must, in terms of the story, refer primarily to Noah himself and his family, even though Noah at the time is offering an acceptable sacrifice. Such a paradoxical assessment of man as profoundly sinful and yet also capable of true obedience to God is clear in the flood story. I propose that Gen. 2-3 should be read in a similar way. (20-21)

I am not sure that I agree that “the words in 3:14-19 in their own right . . . show that man is disobedient.” I would put it this way:

If one takes the story as a narrative about a man and his wife, then the words of judgment in 3:14-19 are part of what happens when man is disobedient. If one recognizes that this man and his wife are not a historical couple but rather the story of all humanity (“These are the generations of the heavens and the earth” Gen 2:4), they show that man is disobedient.

Recast in this light, I find Moberly’s observation about the paradox in the text to be quite profound indeed! Moberly’s entire article has been delightful and stimulating, though I disagree with his ultimate conclusion.

References

Moberly, R W L. “Did the Serpent Get It Right?.” Journal of Theological Studies 39, no. 1 (1988): 1-27.

In Whose Image is Humanity Made? Part Two

In a recent post, I discussed the problem of identifying exactly what it means to be made in the image of God. The problem associated with this task is in identifying or defining the image of God. Is it the image of God in the first 27 verses of Genesis? Does it include material beyond these verses? Do we include all the divine imagery of Genesis? Of the Hebrew Bible? Of the Christian Bible? The task is no doubt a difficult one. Something R. W. L. Moberly brings out in his article “Did the Serpent Get it Right?” concerning the text of Genesis 3 I think is helpful to us in reflecting on this question (though a well defined image will remain elusive). He writes:

While the story [of Genesis 3] is set in the context of the beginnings of human history, it is not actually told from that perspective but from the perspective of Hebrew life in the historical context of ancient Israel. This emerges most clearly through reflection upon the fact that the story is told in the mature language of classical Hebrew and embodies the developed concepts of classical Hebrew theology. Langauge is a social and cultural phenomenon which cannot exist in isolation, nor can there be reflective theological thinking without an approapriate langauge to express it. Classical Hebrew langauge and theology therefore presuppose developed Hebrew cutlure. Such culture could not have existed in the story’s own context, which is far removed from the Hebrew world of ancient Israel in both space and time. This has at least two implications. First, the story will of necessity illuminate primarily the cultural context within which it was written, rather than the primeval context in which it is set. Secondly, it will mean that it is appropriate to interpret the story in the light of a discriminating use of the rest of the Old Testament, as at least some of the rest of the Old Testament is presupposed by this story. (1-2)

Were we to know the precise cultural context out of which Genesis 1 were formed, we might have a more definitive answer to our question. Although at the same time, I hesitate to think that this image is one that should only be understood in terms of the image envisioned by the culture that produced this text. Such information would be helpful, but it would not be ultimate. In as much as God is a reality to which the text can only provisionally speak, this fullness of this image will always elude us. But we are not left to our own devices, as Moberly observes. Through a discriminating use of the Hebrew Bible, we are guided to concrete (though limited) significance. In many ways, verses 28-30 expand verse 27, and the story beginning in chapter 2 expands verses 28-30. But the question still remains, where does this lead us?

References

Moberly, R W L. “Did the Serpent Get It Right?.” Journal of Theological Studies 39, no. 1 (1988): 1-27.

Now the Serpent was Exceptionally Shrewd . . .

I have been using Robert Alter’s The Five Books of Moses recently in an adult Bible class I have been teaching. One of the praiseworthy aspects of his translation is the preservation of ambiguity. The Hebrew text does not always clarify meaning grammatically as we tend to prefer, and translations often cater to our preferences by removing the ambiguity. I, however, find it exciting to find ways to “translate” the ambiguity of a passage.

Recently over at Biblia Hebraica, Doug and I had a brief exchange over the description of the serpent in Genesis 3. The description of the serpent in Hebrew reads:

וְהַנָּחָשׁ֙ הָיָ֣ה עָר֔וּם מִכֹּל֙ חַיַּ֣ת הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשָׂ֖ה יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהִ֑ים

Doug was basing his interpretation on the typical way English versions translate the מן, as a comparative particle. I suggested the possibility of a partitive use of the particle. Thus, rather than interpreting this as saying that the serpent was the most shrewd, he could rather be understood as the solely shrewd beast of the field.

Assuming I am right regarding the ambiguity of this text, then something Moberly said in his article “Did the Serpent Get it Right?” lends itself to capturing this ambiguity in an English translation. Moberly writes, “The story continues with the introduction of the serpent, who is said to be cunning to an exceptional degree and is one of the creatures made by God” (5, emphasis added). If one were to translate the passage, “Now the serpent was exceptionally shrewed of all the beasts of the field which YHWH God made,” then one would preserve both the comparative and partitive potentiality of the construction. Nice!

As to the use of the word “shrewd,” see here.

References

Moberly, R W L. “Did the Serpent Get It Right?.” Journal of Theological Studies 39, no. 1 (1988): 1-27.

God Hates You, This I Know . . .

Doug Chaplain, A.K.A Clayboy, has recently shared five things which he finds deeply De-Christian. I am hesitant about one of the issues he has listed. Doug writes:

God hates sin. He may love you, but he hates sin even more, and unless you do exactly what he says (and only if you’re one of the lucky elect ones) you will burn for ever in eternal torment. God loves you, but he really, really hates sin. The concentration of the Church on God’s hatred of sin, and Augustine’s ghastly massa damnata theory of humanity, usually ends up implicitly denying the love of God, or at least demoting it to one of his less obvious characteristics.

I appreciate his stab at the heresy of Calvin’s doctrine of election, and while I had not encountered Augustine’s massa damnata theory before, it sounds like something worthy of criticism. But upon reading this the first time, I felt that something was off. I responded in the comments with these thoughts:

I am not sure “God hates sin” is a good way of titling this concern. The failure to address God’s hatred, not the preaching of it, is what is deeply de-Christian. To say “God hates sin, but he loves the sinner” is to promote a false dichotomy and to privilege one over the other. As the Psalmist phrases it, “The boastful shall not stand before your eyes; you hate all evildoers” (Ps 5:5). God does hate sin, and thus he hates the one who commits sin. God’s hatred is righteous enmity and does not preclude his love which is relational and covenantal. Perhaps this is what you are saying–the confusion that arises between pitting love and hate against each other–but it seems to come down too hard on hate and to suggest that whatever intrinsic loving qualities God possesses are more important or God-like than his hatred.

Unconvinced, Doug responds with feelings that I am being a bit “proof-texty.” Now unlike some people, I believe that the New Testament (e.g. Paul) provides a warrant for modern prooftexting. Of course, there are good ways of prooftexting and not so good ways of prooftexting. For the former, read below. For the latter, see what “some people” above have to say!

Water intoxication is caused by drinking too much water, and it can be deadly. So sure, if something as basic and as fundamental for human life as water can be consumed in excess, I imagine preaching on God’s hatred can be done in excess. But something about Doug’s “de-Christian” doctrine still doesn’t sit well with me. When he says, “the concentration of the Church on God’s hatred of sin . . . usually ends up implicitly denying the love of God, or at least demoting it to one of his less obvious characteristics,” he seems to imply that we should preach God’s hatred less. In a world where sin is taboo, I think we cannot ignore the need to preach God’s hatred, and often. (This is why I appreciate Jim West’s Total Depravity series. Jim, keep them coming!) To do such would indeed be deeply de-Christian. The problem as I see it is when we preach that God either loves us or he hates us. And if this is what Doug identifies as being deeply de-Christian, I agree with him.

I tried to approach this by defining God’s hatred as “righteous enmity” and his love as “relational and covenantal.” This was less helpful than I initially thought because “righteous enmity” is intensely relational. So let me re-phrase things. The word enmity is an excellent word to use to describe God’s hatred because it suggests mutual hostility. God’s hatred or hostility toward us is born out of our hatred or hostility to him. Hatred is not an intrinsic quality God possesses. This can be contrasted with love, which Scripture declares to be an intrinsic divine characteristic (Ex 34:6; 1 John 4:8). Rather than saying love is “relational and covenental,” what I should have said is that God’s love is covenantally relational. God’s love is not a reaction to something we have done. Another passage from 1 John captures this well: “We love because he first loved us” (4:19).

God’s righteous enmity then could be understood as conditionally relational. God’s hatred is conditioned on the hostility we have shown to him. Or, as John might say, God hates us because we first hated him. And this is why I think the Psalmist’s words, “you hate all evildoers,” must be taken seriously. They discourage the false impression that many have come to embrace–God hates the sin but loves the sinner. The Psalmist asserts that God’s hostility is directed at the sinner, not just at the sin. This is made explicit by the first colon: “The boastful will not stand before your eyes.” This becomes more fully developed in the New Testament’s doctrine of Hell (which was one of Jesus’ favorite preaching topics; eg. Matthew 22:1-13). Of course, judgment texts like these are not in vogue these days, but we cannot ignore them, nor should we. God’s hatred is not the end of the matter. This is fundamental to the Christian message. “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).

 

Happy 6013th Birthday, Creation!

In honor of James Ussher’s date for the birth of the cosmos (23 October, 4004 b.c.), I point you to this video from the University of Nottingham on the book of Genesis.

Review of The Garden of Eden and the Hope of Immortality, Part Five

Immortality and Resurrection: Conflict or Complementarity?

In this final chapter, Barr discusses the line that has divided those who have been proponents of immortality and those who favor resurrection. Those who favor immortality speak of a soul that exists apart from the body and lives on even when the body ceases to live. Those who favor resurrection tend to reflect the modern view that man is a psychosomatic unity, and that life exists only insofar as the body exists.  He observes that these two camps have historically lived in conflict with one another. Barr examines the dynamics that have driven each of these camps and weighed the implications of their positions. His discussion is, as always, thoughful and thought provoking.

Barr concludes that the biblical material does not necessarily support one view over against another. For Barr, the biblical material is inclusive of a number of differing views:

We have seen that the Old Testament and the following period of Jewish thougth left various themes open: immortality of the soul, resurrection of some few, general resurrection, no resurrection at all, ‘eternal life’ earned and enjoyed here and now, and other eschatological schemes. (113-14)

His treatment of the story surrounding the Garden of Eden has sought to legitimize the perspective of immortality in light of the overwhelming emphasis presently (in his day) placed on resurrection.

Immortality, then, was on the biblical agenda from the very beginning, with Adam and Eve. in the Garden of Eden there was the tree of life. The human pair might just have got to that tree, but they did not, because God stopped them; no one was to enter the Garden, and the cherubim with flaming sword stood there to guard the gate. Humanity was not fit to come near the tree. Nevertheless the tree remained there in the garden. Later one came to redeem the defect of humanity. Immortality was brought to light. (116)

Reflections

Barr’s analysis of the Garden of Eden story has both strengths and weaknesses. Barr does an exceptional job of asking the types of questions people often never think to ask of this story. Sometimes, these questions are meaningful and lead to significant observations. In particular, Barr’s understanding of death (chapter 2) contributes significantly to correcting a misunderstanding of the theology of death in the Hebrew Bible. This leads him to reject the Augustinian reading of Paul that interprets the Genesis 3 as an ontological fall. His insight into these issues is particularly keen and worth engaging.

As to the thesis of his work, I remain unconvinced that immortality is the main concern of the Garden of Eden. I do not doubt that immortality is a theme that is not insignificant to the story, but Barr’s concern regarding the conflicting or complementary nature of immortality and resurrection in Scripture seems to have created a somewhat imbalanced reading of the Tree of Life over against the (more prominent) Tree of Knowledge. Much like the five Olympic rings, there are overlapping themes in the Garden of Eden story, none of which can claim to be the central or main theme of the text. Furthermore, it seems to me that the conclusion in Barr’s final chapter can be reached regardless of whether or not immortality is understood as the main concern of the Garden of Eden story. I don’t know how arguing this (instead of highlighting it as a theme in the story) helps him to arrive at his conclusion.

The book will prove an excellent resource for those interested in certain exegetical questions regarding the Garden of Eden story and especially the theology of death in the Hebrew Bible. Those interested in systematic theology will benefit from the discussion in the final chapter.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

In Whose Image is Humanity Made?

To those who regard Genesis as God’s Word, the question may at first seem obvious. In whose image is humanity made? Obviously, humanity is made in the image of God. But this does not really answer the question. As Fretheim writes:

To discern the kind of God portrayed . . . will decisively shape what it means for human beings to be in the image of God in the world (48).

This then leads us to ask, What is the kind of God portrayed that shapes our understanding of what it means for humanity to image God? At this point, a number of options are available, and none are immediately obvious as the solution. Could it be that, after having confronted all the passages about God in the Hebrew Bible (and if you are Christian, you can include the New Testament as well), we should then formulate a doctrine of God, and then from this systematic understanding consider how humanity does/should reflect this God?  Even should we conclude this to be a valid theological enterprise (should we?!?), it certainly expects too much out of the human pen involved in the production of Genesis 1:26-27. What is the image of God painted in the mind(s) of whoever is responsible for Genesis 1:26-27? Is it the God who is presented in the 25 verses preceding God’s statement that man should be made in God’s image? Fretheim develops his thoughts along these lines:

The content of this word God at this point in the text has fundamentally to do with God’s creative activity; so the human vocation to be in God’s image, at least as specified in this chapter (especially 1:28), is to be modeled on the creative words and actions of God. (48)

It is clear, however, that Fretheim has more in mind than only the creative words and actions of God in the previous verses of the text. In a footnote at the conclusion to the quotation above, he writes:

Or, more precisely, inasmuch as human being are created in ‘our’ image, the entire divine realm comes into view. The plural includes the divine council; human beings were created ‘to be a terrestrial counterpart to God’s heavenly entourage’ (s. Dean McBride Jr., ‘Divine Protocol: Genesis 1:1-2:3 as Prologue to the Pentateuch,” in Brown and McBride, God Who Creates, 16).

To turn to include the divine council is to build upon material that must be inferred from data not limited to the words of Genesis 1 (or the book of Genesis, for that matter). But God himself is a character whose existence and characteristics are largely taken for granted in the first chapter of Genesis. The narrator does not make any efforts to introduce us to this God. And thus we are brought right back around to asking what kind of God is humanity to image? The question is difficult, and does not lend itself to simplistic answers.

References:

Fretheim, Terence E. God And World In The Old Testament: A Relational Theology Of Creation. Abingdon Press, 2005.

Master of Arts in Biblical Theology

I would like to propose a new type of Masters degree that focuses on preparing men and women to become competent interpreters of the Bible for any number of ministry vocations. I make this proposal at the end of my own degree, the Master of Divinity, in light of my personal dissatisfaction with using this degree as a springboard into doctoral studies. The alternatives to the M.Div degree, however, I find to be inadequate for various reasons. But I am more interested in offering my proposal than I am in bashing other degree programs. So here is my proposal:

Master of Arts in Biblical Theology (MABT)

Languages (18 hours)

• Hebrew A, B, Readings (9 hours)
• Greek A, B, Readings (9 hours)

Biblical Backgrounds and Methods (18 hours)

• Theological Research
• Issues in Canon and Theology
• Ancient Near Eastern World and History
• Second Temple World and History
• Ancient Biblical Interpretation
• Modern Biblical Interpretation

Genres and Literature of the Bible (18 hours)

• Narrative Literature of the Hebrew Bible
• Narrative Literature of the New Testament
• Prophetic Literature
• Wisdom Literature
• Apocalyptic Literature
• Epistolary literature

What are the strengths of this degree? This degree is designed around a holistic view of the Christian canon. I think we do ourselves a disservice by continually driving a wedge between Hebrew Bible and New Testament studies. This degree seeks to overcome this by requiring that students become familiar with all portions of the biblical  text, and on certain occassions by having students study them in tandem, studying them in a way that allows them to interact. For example, the Ancient Biblical Interpretation course would include (among other things) the phenomenon of biblical intertextuality, both of the HB using the HB and the NT using the HB. The Apocalyptic Literature course would include texts from the Hebrew Bible like Daniel and Zechariah and texts from the New Testament like Revelation. Also, built into the design of this course is the ability for schools to incorporate literature outside the biblical canon(s) into the lessons. The Apocalyptic Literature course would by no means be restricted to the biblical literature labeled apocalyptic. The Wisdom literature course could (should) include Wisdom of Solomon and Sirach. Additionally, the division of ancient and modern methods of biblical interpretation would help prevent the subordination of what ancient people were doing with Scripture to what we today do with Scripture. I find this problematic, and might explore this further in an upcoming post.

Are there any weaknesses to this program? There is no church history. I do feel that having an understanding of church history is important, but when the M.Div exalts church history over biblical history (not many M.Div programs–if any–put the same emphasis into their biblical history as they do their church history) they commit an unpardonable sin. I don’t feel that I have committed a mirror sin (under-emphasizing church history), because I don’t believe that subject belongs to the field of biblical theology. But more on this momentarily. There is also no systematic theology. Opps, I forgot to put this comment under strengths of the program (I’m just sayin’)! In all seriousness, historical and systematic theology should be taught in ministry degrees, not in biblical theology degrees. (This is assuming that systematics should be taught at all, something I don’t assume!) If this were to be adopted, then I believe we could completely rid ourselves of the M.Div degree and replace it with the combination of my proposed degree (MABT) and a Master of Ministry. Schools could offer them in tandem for those interested in ministry. Those interested in doctoral studies would have a more comprehensive and integrated foundation at the masters level to springboard them into Ph.D. programs.

What do you think? I would appreciate some feedback on this one.

Review of The Garden of Eden and the Hope of Immortality, Part Four

Noah’s Ark: Time, Chronology and the Fall

The story of the flood may at first seem irrelevant for a book that focuses on the garden of Eden. For Barr, however, the flood story is integral to the discussion for two reasons. First, the flood story, as it appears in ancient Near Eastern literature, concerns immortality, what Barr argues the story of the Garden of Eden is all about. While the story as it exists may have less to do with immortality than its mesopotamian parallels, even Christian writers will use the flood story to reflect on resurrection (1 Peter 3:18-20). Second, “the world in which we live is a world that had its beginning with Noah and his times” (75). As a second creation story, the flood is helpful in addressing questions about the nature of humanity, for all humanity descend from Noah in the biblical narrative.

While Barr spends a brief amount of space discussion the chronology of the early chapters of Genesis with particular emphasis on the (gradually declining) life spans of the antediluvian patriarchs, the emphasis of this chapter falls on neither time or chronology, but with the (various) concept(s) of the Fall. While Christian interpretation, fueled by its reading of Paul, has typically turned to Genesis 3 as the answer for questions concerning the entrance of sin and death into an otherwise good world (understood as perfect), Barr sees Genesis 6 as the text which explains how a good world (understood with potential for greater or lesser goodness) was tainted by violence that made death (a natural aspect of life in the world God created) occur untimely and under improper circumstances. Barr reflects on how the gospels reflect on this aspect of Jesus’ death much more than on any other aspect of his life. Barr is critical of those who make death in abstract the enemy of God. As Barr understands it, “a death by violence, and in particular by enormous injustice, [is] exactly the conditions under which the Old Testament did see death as something like an ‘enmity to God’” (86).

Barr concludes by this chapter by reflecting on the concept of the/a Fall. He uses the debate between Ludwig Köhler and Emil Brunner as a launching point for addressing how the text of Genesis 3 should be approached. Köhler saw the text as an aetiological myth, “its purpose was to explain a series of contemporary phenomena” (87). Brunner (and Barr) found Köhler’s aetiologies unpersuasive. Brunner, because this led to the conclusion that Paul was “no better than a novice in biblical interpretation” (88). Barr goes on to explain, however, what he understands of Paul in this regard: “Paul was not interpreting the story in and for itself; he was really interpreting Christ through the uses of images from this story.” And this is where Barr differs significantly from Brunner, as he continues:

If the Old Testament text is to count as having some sort of authority in and for itself, then it must be free and able to utter a message of its own which may, at least in principle, be substantially different from the use which Paul made of certain selected and very limited elements within it, read through the perceptions and assumptions of a later and very different culture. It is useless to talk of the ‘authority’ of the Old Testament if in fact it is not allowed to say anything different from what Paul, or any other particular later interpreter, supposed it to be saying. (89)

Barr is unpersuaded by Köhler’s aetiologies because he see’s something more significant at work in the text; namely, immortality. “Immortality was the issue, and humanity ended up being (or remaining) mortal: Wisdom, followed by Paul, and later followed by the main theological traditions, rephrased this so as to say that the humans had been immortal but had lost this immortality. As I have put it, they never had it, but they had the chance of it, and lost that chance” (91). Thus, Barr concludes that man was never perfect or immortal, but was much like we are today.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

הבל as Metaphor

Something John Hobbins said in a recent post resonated with something I have been pondering recently.

Metaphors are semantically porous. They breathe in contextual meaning to an extent purely denotative terms do not. That being the case, the definition of κεφαλή as that which plays a leading role is a mere point of departure for an understanding of its meaning-in-context in 1 Cor 11 and Eph 1,4, and 5.

I have turned my thoughts again to the book of Ecclesiastes; it looks like my term paper in my Old Testament World class is going to interact with the literary/conceptual world of which this book is a part (Gilgamesh, The Oblinging Slave, etc.). One of the aspects I find most fascinating regarding Qohelet’s monologue is the way he makes use of the word הבל. We all know what הבל is. We see it every day in our own lives and in the lives of friends, family, and just about anyone we come in contact with. It is that thing that makes us declare (among other things) “That’s not fair!” or “That’s not right!”

What I find most peculiar is that so familiar a concept to us is so difficult to capture in our language; it is “imprehensible” as Seow would say.* Most translations recognize that this word is significant to Qohelet and should be translated consistently. The problem is, no English word stands a chance at doing justice to the word, something commentators frequently lament. The semantic fingerprint of הבל in Ecclesiastes is unparalleled in English. But I doubt that even the הבל denotes precisely all the semantic significance Qohelet would have it. And that is why I so appreciated what John had to say.  Again, “Metaphors are semantically porous. They breathe in contextual meaning to an extent purely denotative terms do not.” Thus, the word’s literal meaning–breath, wind, vapor–serves for Qohelet as a “mere point of departure for an understanding of its meaning-in-context in” Ecclesiastes. In other words, as often as Qohelet uses the word הבל to define particular situations, he can just as often be seen using situations to (re)define הבל.

I have come to hold the opinion that translators should abandon the quest to translate הבל and opt instead to transliterate it, baptizing it into English (much like the word baptism!).** In as much as Qohelet was using context to inform the meaning of this word, I think our translations should honor what Qohelet has done and allow us to learn the meaning of the word as any ancient reader would have—by seeing the word in action. A translation that fully captures the concept of which Qohelet speaks (were this even to be possible) has done more than Qohelet himself did in choosing to use the word הבל.

* “Throughout Ecclesiastes, then, one finds a picture of a world that is in every sense imprehensible—not apprehensible and/or not comprehensible. Nothing that human beings accomplish or possess or try to grapple with is ultimately within mortal grasp.” C. L. Seow, “Beyond Mortal Grasp: The Usage of Hebel in Ecclesiastes,” Australian Biblical Review 48 (2000): 15.

** A footnote should indicate the literal meanings of the word. The plural “meanings” precludes a parallel use of a literal English translation.