Causing the Nazirites to Stumble

In Amos 2:12, God criticizes the Israelites for giving wine to the Nazirites. This was a no-no because the Nazirites were not supposed to drink alcohol during the fulfillment of their vow.

The specifics of the Nazirite vow are contained in Numbers 6. In a sense, a person who takes a Nazirite vow places himself in a priestly condition for a period of time. Like the high priest, he is not to defile himself through contact with a corpse, even if it belongs to someone from his immediate family (cp. Numbers 6:7 and Leviticus 21:11). Another possible similarity between Nazirites and priests is that the Nazirites cannot shave their heads for the duration of their vow, and the priests cannot “make bald spots upon their heads, or shave off the edges of their beards” (cp. Numbers 6:5 and Leviticus 21:5). And the Nazirite is not to drink wine, as priests are forbidden to drink alcohol when they enter the tent of meeting (cp. Numbers 6:3 and Leviticus 10:9). Becoming a Nazirite is entering a state of greater holiness, which requires more purity than the average Israelite must assume.

What was the purpose of the vow? In the Hebrew Bible, vows often occur within a quid pro quo context. The worshipper essentially tells God, “Look, if you do this for me, then I will do this for you.” We see this scenario with the vows of Jacob (Genesis 28:20), the Israelites at war with Canaan (Numbers 21:2), Jephthah (Judges 11:30), Hannah (I Samuel 1:11), and Absalom (II Samuel 15:7-8).

Vows are serious in the Hebrew Bible. Jephthah performed his vow, even though it meant that he had to sacrifice his daughter. Deuteronomy 23:21-23 says that people who do not keep their vows are guilty before God. And Ecclesiastes 5:4-6 says that it is better not to vow than to make a vow and then break it. In case that point is not clear enough, v 6 threatens that God can destroy the work of a person’s hands.

And the Nazirite vow was no joke, for a person in the process of fulfilling it could not even bury his own parents. If he accidentally encountered a dead body, however, then he had to shave his head, offer some sacrifices, and start from scratch (Numbers 6:9-12). But he could do that only if someone suddenly died near him, a situation that he could not control. Overall, he had to keep his vow, for that indicated his respect for God.

When the Israelites of Amos 2:12 give the Nazirites wine to drink, they are showing disrespect to God, for they do not honor the vow that the Nazirites have made to him. But they also are not respecting the Nazirite’s personal relationship with God, for they are trying to get him to disregard it. God wants people to honor their commitments to him, and it doesn’t help matters when someone is seeking to undermine them through stumbling-blocks.

This concept helps me to better understand passages such as Romans 14 and I Corinthians 8 in the New Testament. In both passages, God is concerned about the personal qualms that characterize the walks of certain Christians. Some Christians did not want to eat meat, particularly when it was offered to idols. Some preferred not to drink alcohol. Some respected specific days. Essentially, they chose to honor God through abstention or the celebration of days. And Paul did not look down on those who did such things, for he says in Romans 14:6, “Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.”

Paul also says that the “stronger” Christians who eat and drink what they like are not to put a stumbling-block in the paths of their “weaker” brothers and sisters. He even goes so far as to say in Romans 14:21, “[I]t is good not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that makes your brother or sister stumble.” Basically, we are to avoid offensive behaviors that can influence others to transgress their consciences. And I have a problem with that concept. In my mind, it seems to give easily-offended Christians the God-given authority to control my own life. Should I avoid going to the movies because an anti-movies Christian might see me entering the theater and become offended? If a Christian drinks a beer at a restaurant, should he have to get rid of his drink if he sees a teetotaler Christian? Maybe the anti-movies and the tee-totaler Christians should learn some tolerance themselves. They should recognize that not everyone in the world has the same qualms that they have, rather than seeking to impose their preferences on everyone else.

Of course, I wouldn’t deliberately get in anyone’s face. I just have problems with professional weaker brothers (as Chuck Swindoll calls them) trying to run my life. At the same time, I believe that I should respect the personal covenants that people make with God, rather than seeking to undermine them.

Amos 6:10

Gene Tucker in his HarperCollins Study Bible commentary on Amos is not kidding when he calls Amos 6:9-10 a “mysterious and ominous little scene.” The New Revised Standard Version translates vv 9-10 as follows:

“If ten people remain in one house, they shall die. And if a relative, one who burns the dead, shall take up the body to bring it out of the house, and shall say to someone in the innermost parts of the house, ‘Is anyone else with you?’ the answer will come, ‘No.’ Then the relative shall say, ‘Hush! We must not mention the name of the LORD.’”

What exactly is going on here? And what does not mentioning the name of the LORD have to do with any of this?

As is my custom, I checked the HarperCollins Study Bible and the Jewish Study Bible to find come historical-critical interpretations of this passage. And, as is usually the case, I walked away disappointed. The HarperCollins Study Bible merely said that this was a scene of “survivors hiding among the ruins and the bodies of the slain.” Thanks a lot! I couldn’t have figured that out on my own. So how does not mentioning the name of the LORD fit into all of this? But, to its credit, at least the HarperCollins Study Bible tried to offer an interpretation. The Jewish Study Bible didn’t even comment on the verses.

And so I decided to consult the old E-Sword commentaries and that famous Jewish exegete of exegetes, Rashi. All of them made a good-faith effort to uncover the passage’s plain sense meaning in light of its immediate context, or its peshat. But they arrived at various and interesting conclusions.

Here are what some of the commentaries have to say:

1. Albert Barnes envisions this scenario: There are ten people dying of pestilence in the house. One of their relatives, an uncle, comes to burn their dead bodies, since his function as a kinsman is to take care of their corpses. Barnes asserts that the Israelites ordinarily did not practice cremation, for they preferred burial places as an indication of their belief in the bodily resurrection. But they were burning the dead bodies at this time to contain the rampant pestilence that was sweeping the land.

The uncle notices that one of the people is barely alive, so he pulls him out of the house and asks him if there are any other survivors. He answers “no,” then the uncle tells him not to mention God’s name. According to Barnes, the Israelites were bitter with God because he had brought all of this wrath upon them. They had wanted nothing to do with God in their lives, when things were going well, and so they never really identified God as beneficent. Now, they want nothing to do with God at their deaths, since they only know him in terms of his vengeance. They shake their fists at God in the midst of their own punishment.

Barnes’ interpretation looks reasonable, except when he projects later Jewish belief in the resurrection onto the time of Amos.

2. John Calvin offers a similar interpretation in his Geneva Bible, only, for him, the Israelites at one time boasted about God’s name and their status as God’s people, but they came to abhor God when they experienced his wrath. As far as the cremation is concerned, Calvin argues that there were few people to help with the burial of the dead, so someone burned the bodies at their homes so that he could dispose of them more easily. Calvin also seems to view cremation as out of the ordinary for the Israelite people, so he says that they only practiced it in emergency situations.

3. Gill sees another scenario. The uncle asks one of the survivors if there is anyone else who is alive in the house. The answer he hears is “no.” Just as the survivor is about to curse God, the uncle tells him to be quiet, for they all deserve their punishment. So Gill views the uncle as an advocate for quiet acceptance rather than continued rebellion against God.

4. John Wesley offers the possibility that the uncle feels the time for seeking God has passed, since they are experiencing God’s wrath. Therefore, he discourages the dying person from doing so.

5. Matthew Henry gives another option: “Perhaps it was forbidden by some of the idolatrous kings to make mention of the name of Jehovah, as by the law of Moses it was forbidden to make mention of the names of the heathen-gods: ‘We may not do it without incurring the penalty.’” This is possible, since the Bible does portray certain rulers (e.g., Jezebel, Manasseh) getting rough with the Yahwist population. At the same time, why would a person who is about to die care about what an idolatrous king thinks of him?

6. Like other commentators, Keil and Delitzsch posit some practical reasons for the cremation, namely, logistics and germ control: “The description of the burier as mesârēph (a burner) therefore supposes the occurrence of such a multitude of deaths that it is impossible to bury the dead, whose corpses are obliged to be burned, for the purpose of preventing the air from being polluted by the decomposition of the corpses.” Regarding the uncle’s desire to avoid the name of the LORD, Keil and Delitzsch contend that he does not want the dying man to draw God’s attention. “God is slaying the Israelite population!” the uncle is thinking. “It’s best if this God does not know we are here.”

7. Rashi presents this scenario: The enemy has just set a house on fire. There is an uncle and a person who is removing a body from the burning house. Rashi apparently takes the mesareph to be someone who rescues bodies from burning, not the burner himself. The rescuer asks the survivor if there are others in the house who are still alive, and he answers “no.” In accordance with Targum Jonathan, Rashi interprets the rescuer to respond, “For this comes to them because they did not want to mention the Name of the Lord.” For Rashi, v 10 means that God is punishing the Israelites because they had never cultivated a relationship with God. And Rashi’s interpretation is one possible way to see that part of v 10, for it only says, “for not to mention in the name of the LORD.” Interpreters and translators can fill in the gaps in a variety of ways.

So we have all of these understandings of Amos 6:10. They all present plausible interpretations, along with insights of how people respond to God in the face of their punishment.

Naughty, Naughty

In Joel 3:21, God says that he will treat Israel’s blood as innocent, something he had not done before. As a result, God will regard Israel’s Gentile oppressors as if they had shed innocent blood, which is a big “no no” in God’s sight. In effect, God will punish the sinful Gentile nations through destruction, even as he preserves sinful (yet repentant) Israel.

How should Israel feel in this chapter? Here are the Gentile nations, getting their just deserts. And here are the Israelites, who also deserve destruction yet receive God’s presence and favor. And the reason for God’s activity is that the Israelites are his chosen people. God values Israel, so he shows justice with respect to her enemies and mercy with respect to her.

If I were Israel, I’d be humbled. I’d feel grateful. It would be like being the sole survivor of an automobile accident or a burning building, only I’d know that my survival was due to God’s favor rather than blind chance. Would I mourn over the destruction of my enemies? I’d probably feel the same way I did as a child when I no longer had to deal with a bully (or, in one case, my grandparents’ vicious dog): relieved at my newfound safety. I’d be at peace. I know that sounds selfish, but that’s how I’d feel.

I’m sure you’ve seen the bumper sticker that says, “Christians are not perfect, just forgiven.” According to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, all people are sinners who deserve God’s wrath. Christians are no different from anyone else, for they too have sinned in the past. Maybe their behavior is better now, but all it takes is one crime to get a criminal record in today’s justice system (though, of course, many crimes can be expunged). In the eyes of God, Christians have a criminal record and deserve punishment, just like every other person on the face of the earth.

But God chooses to treat Christians as innocent, even though they technically are not. Calvinists say this is because God chose them before the foundation of the world, and Arminians contend that salvation is based on a decision to receive God’s free gift. But both sides agree that Christians are getting something that they don’t deserve.

So why do a lot of Christians act like they’re better than non-believers? Not all, or most, but a lot of Christians seem to have that attitude. Maybe they forget where they came from. We as Christians should remember that we too are sinners who deserve God’s wrath. We’ve been plucked from the fire. We should feel relieved and grateful, not smug and superior in the confines of our Christian cliques.

That’s why I get annoyed when I hear the cliche “Hate the sin but love the sinner” in today’s debates on homosexuality. I suppose that I agree with the slogan on some level, for I believe that homosexuality is wrong yet maintain that all people should be loved (though my love for others is far from perfect). But the slogan strikes me as rather patronizing, as if we righteous Christians should condescend to love those lowly sinners. Hate the sin but love the sinner? Christians are sinners. Not to mention the fact that I’m sick of hearing the cliche all the time, as if it’s the definitive answer to the homosexuality debate.

At the same time, I also don’t like the other extreme, which says that we can’t make moral judgments because all of us are sinners. I’ve heard homosexuals say to Christians, “Who are you to judge me? You’re not perfect!” But there has to be some room for moral judgment and outrage. And I’m not speaking primarily about homosexuality here. If I’m a criminal who stole a few pieces of candy from a grocery store, and I hear about a man who raped a child, killed her, and threw her corpse into a nearby dumpster, don’t I have a right to be mad about his actions? Sure, I’m not perfect, but does that mean I can’t have any moral outrage?

So there has to be a balance between humility and moral outrage, though I’m not exactly sure where the right point of balance actually is.

I want to make a transition to the next book that I’m reading for my daily quiet time: the Book of Amos. On at least one occasion, Amos discusses the same issue, only, in his scenario, the Gentiles are the ones evaluating the Israelites’ behavior. In Amos 3:9, we read, “Proclaim to the strongholds in Ashdod, and to the strongholds in the land of Egypt, and say, ‘Assemble yourselves on Mount Samaria, and see what great tumults are within it, and what oppressions are in its midst’” (NRSV).

God is putting the Israelites on display before two sinful Gentile nations: Egypt and Philistia. I wonder what the Gentiles’ reaction is when they see the Israelites’ sin. Here are some possibilities:

“Naughty, naughty. Look at that oppression! Those Israelites are always strutting around, acting like they’re better than the rest of us. But we’d never have oppression like that in our nation.”

“Yeah, the Israelites oppress people. So what? We do that in our own countries. It’s part of our culture.”

“The Israelites have sinned, and God is punishing them. Let us take that as a warning and an exhortation to ourselves. Let’s stop oppressing people in our midst and outside of our borders. Let us pursue justice!”

Of the three responses, I’d venture to say that the third is closest to the attitude that God would like us to have. And, of course, it should be mixed with compassion for the sinners, yet a compassion that is not patronizing and does not compromise moral outrage.