Abiding and Answered Prayer

At church this morning, the theme was prayer.  The pastor was commenting on John 15:7, which states (in the KJV): “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”

My pastor was saying what I’ve heard a lot of Christians say: that John 15:7 does not mean that God gives us everything we ask for, but rather that abiding in Christ influences us to desire and to ask for the right things, and God grants us those things. 

But this sort of spiel does not resonate with me, for it strikes me as an escape clause: If you did not get what you want, that’s due to you wanting the wrong things because you don’t sufficiently abide in Christ.  (My pastor did not say that, but I feel that conditioning answered prayer on abiding in Christ can eventually go in that direction.)  Consequently, if, say, you’re praying for a loved-one to recover from an illness, and the loved-one dies, are you supposed to blame yourself for the loved-one’s death, since God may not have answered your prayer due to your poor spiritual condition?  I hope God’s not like that!

Moreover, what exactly is the “right thing” to pray for?  I think that it’s appropriate to pray for a job or for healing, for oneself or others.  A person who abides in Christ can do this, as can one with a weak spiritual condition.  I think that a person who abides in Christ would actually be encouraged by her faith to do so, since Christianity teaches compassion for others.  So why would God choose not to grant such a petition?  In my opinion, it can’t be because such requests do not flow from Christ-like desires, for they do.

One may say that God knows best.  Fine.  But, if God knows best and will do what he wants anyway, why does Jesus go out of his way to tell us that God will answer our requests?  Why should we even make requests, when God will do what he wants?

Do I think that God answers the prayers of people who are especially righteous?  I’ve thought about this issue a couple of times lately.  First, I was watching the episode of Highway to Heaven in which Dick Van Dyke plays a hobo named Wally who loves people and gives to them.  Because of Wally’s continuous concern for others, God considers him to be a saint, and God answers Wally’s prayer to heal a sick boy.  Second, I saw a movie (for the second time) entitled The Third Miracle, which is about a debate in the Catholic church about whether or not to declare a woman to be a saint.  Part of sainthood is being so close to God that God hears your prayers for others and answers them.  That’s presumably why there are many Catholics who ask saints to intercede for them.

I’d like to think that God honors a person who goes the extra mile in showing concern for other people.  Do I think that God hears her prayers over those of others?  Part of me hopes not.  I know I’m not perfect, but I would hope that God loves me and listens to my prayers, plus I would not want to carry around a load of guilt if my prayers were to go ungranted and bad things were to happen.

I liked something that my pastor said in the sermon: He told about a little boy who asked if it’s all right to talk to God, even if he doesn’t want God to do something for him.  The answer was absolutely!  That’s one reason I pray: for the company.

When God Gives the “Stuff”

I was watching the pilot to Highway to Heaven last night, while studying, of course. Something has confused me on a lot of episodes. Jonathan (the angel, played by Michael Landon) has said on more than one occasion that God won’t give him the “stuff” when Jonathan does something that God doesn’t like (e.g., gamble). The “stuff” is supernatural powers. God won’t give Jonathan the “stuff” to use in a manner that God deems inappropriate.

And yet, there are times when Jonathan does wrong with the “stuff.” In the episode “The Secret,” Jonathan used his super-strength to rough up some bullies who were taking a guy’s lunch. God then took Jonathan up to heaven to stand trial. And, in the episode in which Ed Asner plays an angel named Harold, Harold uses supernatural powers in an inappropriate manner: he gives people what they want in a supernatural way, rather than doing what he’s supposed to do, namely, make people come together to solve the problem. For example, Harold turns water in a fire-hydrant into wine for the homeless, when he’s supposed to make people care about homelessness.

There are times when, in the same episode, we hear Jonathan say that God doesn’t give the “stuff” to an angel to do something that God doesn’t like, and yet also see an angel using the stuff inappropriately. I don’t think the writers of the show are so inept as to put a blatant contradiction into the same episode. I think that the answer to my confusion is in the pilot. God gave Jonathan some bikes to use in a nursing home facility, but that was a mistake because suspicious Mark was wondering where Jonathan got the bikes, and he was questioning every local bike dealership to find out. Jonathan concluded that the bikes were a mistake, but God gave them to Jonathan in a supernatural manner because he figured that Jonathan will only learn through making mistakes.

That could also be why God allowed Jonathan and Harold to use the stuff in an inappropriate manner: so they could learn. And yet, Jonathan realizes he can’t take the stuff for granted, for it comes from God.

Leslie Nielsen

I just read that actor Leslie Nielsen has passed away. This is ironic, for a few days ago I watched the Highway to Heaven episode in which he played a corrupt rich man who got shot. Jonathan and Mark show him the error of his ways, and he gets a second chance at life. Here is the episode on Youtube. Enjoy!

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Father Murphy: In God’s Arms

I’ve been watching Father Murphy, a show in the 1980′s that was created by Michael Landon. The following episode is entitled “In God’s Arms”, and it is my favorite episode thus far. It’s about a priest named Joe, who loses his faith because of the harshness and evils of life, and he finds his faith again, as he works in a saloon and reaches out to the people around him who need help. Even while he is an unbeliever, God uses him to help others, and God teaches him that the way of Christ is the way to go. Before Joe lost his faith, he believed because that was how he was brought up. But he lost that faith to gain a deeper faith, one that was not naive about the evils of life. Although the world remained the same harsh place that drove him to despair at the beginning of the episode, at the end, he resolves to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem.

There’s one thing that bothers me: at the end of the episode, he returns to the priesthood. The priesthood was where he had a hard time reaching out to others, for, as he said, people came to him confessing the same sins over and over, and he didn’t feel he was reaching them or making a difference in their lives. He was apart from the people. It was when he was in a saloon—among people—that he could make a difference. I hope that, even though he returns to the priesthood, he will not be cloistered and away from others.

I don’t want to use this episode to beat people over the head on the need to reach out to others, for people have beaten me over the head with that, and that’s really tough for me, an introvert. But I like how Joe’s reaching out to others in the saloon was pretty simple: a man was lonely, and so Joe listened to his story and played chess with him. A woman was getting beaten on, and so Joe stood up for her and affirmed her dignity as a person of worth. He also was there for her when she was sad. Joe wasn’t the life of the party, but he reached out to others in his own humble way.

I also like the soundtrack of this episode. It reminds me of the soundtrack of the Little House episode, “The Preacher Takes a Wife.” I’ve noticed that Michael Landon sometimes used the same soundtracks for shows. On the episode after this one, “The Dream Day” (which has Tina Yothers of Family Ties fame), I heard what became the theme song for Highway to Heaven.

This is a beautiful episode, and it reminds me that I’m in God’s arms, wherever I might be.

Inspiration from the West Wing, Highway to Heaven, and John Adams

My blog posts this week have been rather perfunctory, largely because I’m tired when I come home from work!  But, believe it or not, I have been inspired by some things this week.  Here are three things that I saw on television that inspired me:

1.  Yesterday, I watched the first two episodes of The West Wing: Season 2.  President Bartlett has been shot, and the members of his staff look back at how they joined his campaign.

Josh Lyman was working on the Presidential campaign of Democrat John Hoynes, who was the frontrunner in the primaries.  Josh was disappointed because Hoynes didn’t have much of an agenda for the good of others: Hoynes was primarily interested in Hoynes, and Hoynes looking good.  But Leo McGarry invited Josh to listen to the little-known and highly-intellectual candidate, Democratic Governor Jed Bartlett of New Hampshire.  Josh was initially bored with Bartlett’s complex description of economics, but something got his attention: when Bartlett was asked why he, as a Congressman, voted against a milk program that would have helped dairy farmers, Bartlett responded, “Yeah, I really screwed you guys on that one.”  But Bartlett went on to say that he voted the way that he did so that poor families could have cheaper milk, and, if the dairy farmers didn’t like that, then they should vote for somebody else.  Josh then realized that Bartlett was a man who stood by principle.

Josh’s friend, Sam Seaborn, was a lawyer for the oil companies.  Sam wanted to make a positive difference in the world, but he wondered if his job was the place to do so.  When he tried to push his firm to purchase ships that were friendlier to the environment, his colleagues pooh-poohed his suggestion.  That’s when Josh signaled to Sam through the window that Bartlett was the real thing.  Sam then left his firm to join the Bartlett campaign.

Toby Ziegler was a loser.  He managed all sorts of campaigns, and all of them turned out unsuccessfully.  Now, he was on the Bartlett campaign.

C.J. Cregg’s job was to help Hollywood big-shots to succeed.  She made over $500,000 a year doing that!  But she was tired of handling petty egos and advancing bad movies.  Then, Toby Ziegler came along and offered her a place in the Bartlett campaign.  He told her that she would make less money than her current salary.  But here was an opportunity to do something that mattered.

Bartlett was kind of a loser at that time—notwithstanding his impressive academic credentials—and he was reluctant to take advice from people he didn’t even know.  But he had a heart of gold.  After he won a primary, he learned that Josh Lyman’s father had passed away.  Bartlett went to the airport and talked with Josh, offering to take the flight with him to keep him company, even though Bartlett had a speech to give. 

I like this episode because it’s about people’s desire for a purpose.  Many of the characters on these episodes were successful in their vocations, but they didn’t feel that they were accomplishing anything meaningful.  This episode reminds me of the disciples leaving everything behind to follow Jesus.  They had their lives and their agendas, but perhaps they didn’t feel that they were going anywhere.  Jesus offered them an opportunity to do something that mattered.  And he had a heart of gold! 

2.  I watched the Highway to Heaven: Season 2 episode, “Alone”, starring John Franklin of Children of the Corn fame.   Franklin plays a developmentally-delayed boy named Arnie, who lives on the streets.  Jonathan the angel and his sidekick, Mark, realize that Arnie is special, and needs special people to raise him.  The people whom God wants to raise Arnie are a bitter rancher whose wife left him, and the leaving wife.  Mark asks Jonathan, “Are you sure these are the right people?”  And Jonathan replies, “I’m not sure, but the Boss is.”  “The Boss” refers to God.

There are people who have potential, even if they make not look like it. 

3.  A few days ago, I watched the end of the John Adams miniseries.  John Adams disowned his son, Charles, an alcoholic who lost money in bad business decisions.  When Charles died, Abigail really took that hard.  She remarked that Charles was never anyone’s enemy, and was the delight of her heart.  That’s pretty telling.  Charles may have had his faults, but he was never anyone’s enemy.  He didn’t try to undermine other people.  I hope that others can say that about me, whatever my faults may be.

Judging; James Troesch Marathon; Fluent Prayers?; Written Prophecies; Macho Brand; Parallelism; Moishe Rosen

1. William P. Young, The Shack, page 203:

“Is that why we like law so much—to give us some control?” asked Mack.

“It is much worse than that,” resumed Sarayu.  “It grants you the power to judge others and feel superior to them.  You believe you are living to a higher standard than those you judge…”

I’ve been trying to express this concept into words for a long time.  Throughout my life, I have believed that some people are right, and some people are wrong, and I have judged them accordingly.  If a person doesn’t adhere to A, B, and C, I judge that person, and sometimes I assume that I shouldn’t be around him.  This can be wise, for, if I were to hang around people who (say) did drugs, there would be a temptation for me to do drugs in order to fit in (not that I have ever used drugs).  But I’ve often found that I judge people for not believing a certain way.  At Harvard Divinity School, I had a checklist of things that a person should believe: inerrancy of Scripture, deity of Christ, Jesus being the only way to God, homosexuality and abortion being immoral, etc., and I would judge people and groups according to how they adhered to those standards.  I assumed that those who believed in these things had the inside track to God.

Nowadays, I wonder: maybe I should spend more time loving people, and less time judging them.  But it’s easier for me to judge.  I have a hard time socializing with people and expressing genuine concern, but I’m a little more adept at boldly proclaiming my opinion on right and wrong. 

And I still judge people, only now, I tend to judge right-wing Christians.  I’ll continue to do my “Oh Brother” posts, but I wonder if there’s a way for me to love right-wing Christians—without allowing the really dogmatic ones to walk all over me.

Here’s another point:  Some books stick in my head, for better and for worse.  One of these books (in the “worse” category) is John MacArthur’s Vanishing Conscience.  For years—maybe over a decade—I have felt bad about saying “Nobody’s perfect” because of the following passage in Macarthur’s book: 

Nobody’s perfect. That truth, which ought to make us tremble before a God who is holy, holy, holy, is usually invoked instead to excuse sinful behavior, to make us feel better. How often do we hear people brush aside their own wrongdoing with the casual words, “Well, after all, nobody’s perfect”? People claim they’re not perfect to boost their self-esteem, but it is another evidence of a vanishing conscience. There is accuracy in the claim, but it should be a timid confession, not a flippant means of justifying sin.

I realize now that “Nobody’s perfect” is not only an acceptable thing for me to say, but it is necessary.  If I simply reminded myself that nobody’s perfect, then maybe I’d be easier on myself and others.

2. Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land, page 291:

As for faces, Jubal had the most beautiful face Mike had ever seen…

Today, while doing my reading, I did a Highway to Heaven James Troesch marathon.  James Troesch played a quadraplegic lawyer named Scotty.  In Season 1, he’s introduced as a quadraplegic lawyer in a hospital who’s trying to pass the bar, and who’s encouraging “new wheels” to “live in the moment” and to be grateful for what they can do, rather than focusing on what they can’t do.  Also in this season, Scotty meets and marries Diane, Mark Gordon’s cousin. 

In Season 2, Scotty’s trying to get clients for his law practice, but he is failing because people don’t want to be represented by a handicapped attorney.  His self-esteem is low, and his marriage is on the rocks.  But he gets his first case, which is the type that appears un-winnable.  Julian, a man with a birthmark splashed across his face, has for many years been known as “the monster” in his small town.  When a pretty blind woman is injured and in a coma after she accidentally stumbles while looking for him, Julian is accused of a capital crime.  But Scotty conducts an excellent defense, wins the case, and gains a reputation as a good lawyer.  The clients start flocking to him!

In Season 3, Scotty and Diane want to have a baby, but Diane is unable to have children.  They want to adopt a mentally-handicapped boy named Todd.  But Todd already has parents: they put him in an institution years before because people they respected advised them to do so, and they never see Todd.  Scotty and Diane go to court to adopt Todd, and Todd’s parents eventually allow them to do so.

But, back to the Heinlein quote: it reminds me of the episode in which Scotty was defending “the monster.”  When Scotty first meets Julian, Julian is staring at him, and Scotty assumes Julian is doing so because he’s judging Scotty for being handicapped.  But that is not the case.  Rather, Julian is admiring Scotty’s perfect face and skin, which differs from his own marked face. 

3.  Alberdina Houtmann, Mishnah and Tosefta, page 85:

Just as it is proved to be a bad omen for a patient when Ben Dosa’s prayer was not fluent, so it is a bad omen for a congregation when its agent errs.

When I pray, I don’t worry about being eloquent or fluent, for I assume that God knows what I’m saying, even if my words don’t come out right.  Doesn’t Romans 8 have a verse about that?  We don’t pray as we ought, and so the Holy Spirit intercendes for us with incomprehensible words.  But Judaism had prayers that were formal and recited.  It still does, for that matter.  But I’ve heard from some Jews that praying from the heart is also acceptable within Judaism.  Can one make mistakes in those kinds of prayers, or be less than eloquent?

4.  R.E. Clemens, “The Prophet as an Author: The Case of the Isaiah Memoir”, in Writings and Speech in Israelites and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy, page 99:

Taken as a separate unit the memoir shows how written prophecy could fulfill a function beyond what was possible for oral prophesying.  It is best described as a testimony text, since it is not autobiography except in a secondary and accidental manner.  Its purpose as a witness to future generations of Israelites and Jews that God is both faithful and just is evident.  It ensured that the future generations who were destined to suffer the disasters that Isaiah had foretold would understand why they were doing so and on whom the responsibility for this rested.

I pretty much agree with this explanation as to why prophecies were written.  Of course, there could be other reasons as well.  Jeremiah wrote his prophecy down so that someone else could read it to the king, since Jeremiah would be harmed if he did so himself.

5. Walter Dietrich and Thomas Naumann, “The David-Saul Narrative”, in Reconsidering Israel and Judah, pages 287-288:

Among solid young men, then, (temporary) homosexual relationships were not considered reprehensible; they were only despised when they were combined with effeminacy, even “unmanliness,” in the view of a patriarchally organized world.

This reminds me of the book, The Pink Swastiga.  Actually, Izgad had a back-and-forth discussion/debate with that author of that book.  To read it, visit www.izgad.blogspot.com and search under “Scott Lively”. 

But, back to the quote.  On my Christian dating site a while back, a pastor was posting passages from The Pink Swastiga, a book that argues that there were high-ranking Nazis who were homosexual.  I responded that the Nazis persecuted homosexuals and put them in concentration camps, and the pastor replied that the Nazis didn’t care for effeminate homosexuals: rather, the Nazi liked the macho brand.

Anyway, this quote reminded me of that interaction!

6.  My reading of book reviews today revolved around the issue of biblical parallelism: there’s a line in poetry, and then there’s a line after that, which is parallel to the first line.  Sometimes the second line repeats the idea of the first line in different words.  Sometimes it repeats the idea of the first line, while adding something new.  Sometimes, there is contrast between the two lines.  Sometimes, the two lines overlap primarily in the area of grammar, or the words that are used.  And, sometimes, we should look at the larger unit rather than just the two lines.  And idea may get repeated several lines down, not necessarily in the second line.

7.  I just learned that Moishe Rosen passed away recently.  Roisen was the founder of Jews for Jesus.

I don’t really have an agenda of converting Jews to Christianity—as if the Christian interpretation of the Hebrew Bible is the only viable one in existence.  But there was a time when Jews for Jesus had a special place in my heart, which is probably why I got on their mailing list a few times, and have gotten their literature for over a decade.  I grew up in the Armstrong movement, which kept the seventh-day Sabbath and biblical holy days, as well as some version of kosher.  That looked strange to people in my small town, and so, looking for some box to put us in, they considered us Jews.  My mom embraced that designation, since her side of the family had Jewish ancestry.  Yet, we also believed in Jesus.  And people in my small town liked to put people in boxes, so they were unclear about what we were.

That’s why I was happy when Jews for Jesus came to a prominent church in my small town and did a concert.  Here were people who were like me: Jews who believed in Jesus!  They were ethnically Jewish, and they probably performed some Jewish customs.  Yet, they believed in Jesus, calling him “Yeshua”.  And people in my small town were being exposed to this, making me look slightly less like an oddball!

Since that time, I’ve learned that the issue of Jews who believe in Jesus is rather complex.  I briefly attended a Messianic synagogue at one time, and the rabbi there didn’t care for Jews for Jesus.  I think his problem was that Jews for Jesus pointed Jewish-Christians to churches rather than Messianic synagogues, or failed to provide a viable way for Jews to honor Yeshua while retaining their own Jewish customs.  He may be right on this.  I’m sure he knows more about this issue than I do!  But my reading of Jews for Jesus literature leads me to believe that the organization at least pays lip-service to Jewish customs.

There was a time when I was enamored by Messianic Judaism.  I had some desire to connect with my Jewish heritage, while remaining a Christian in good-standing.  Nowadays, I don’t care as much.  Some of that relates to my not fitting into a Messianic congregation, and not being able to adopt the Messianic agenda as my own.  And it also has to do with my needs: I’m more interested in spirituality nowadays rather than religion and ritual.  I seek and find inspiration in a variety of sources.

But I feel a need to take my hat off to Moishe Rosen.  From what I’ve heard about his personality, he’s not the type of guy I’d want to work for!  But he started a movement that touched me, during a piece of my life.

II Kings 5

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 5.  Naaman is the captain of the Syrian army, and he is a leper.  A little girl who was taken captive from Israel tells Naaman’s wife that he should see the prophet in Samaria, who would “gather (Hebrew root, asaph) him from his leprosy”.  Naaman, ever the professional, sends a letter to the king of Israel, who is outraged because he (the king of Israel) is not God and cannot cure Naaman; the king of Israel thinks that Naaman is picking a fight with him by telling him to do something that he cannot do.  But Elisha the prophet hears about all this and tells the king of Israel to send Naaman to him.

Naaman and his servants gather outside of Elisha’s house, and Elisha doesn’t even come out to greet Naaman personally.  Rather, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman with Elisha’s message: go and dip in the Jordan seven times, and then you’ll become clean.  Naaman is upset that Elisha didn’t come out and heal him with a lot of fanfare, and he also wonders why he has to go to the Jordan, when there are much finer rivers in Damascus, Syria.  But Naaman’s servants tell him that it’s not a difficult task, so why not try it?

Naaman dips in the Jordan seven times, and his flesh becomes clean, like that of a little boy’s.  He offers to pay Elisha with gold, silver, and garments, but Elisha refuses payment.  Naaman says that he now realizes that the only God is in Israel, and he decides to take back with him dust from the land of Israel; he also affirms that he will sacrifice to no other God but the LORD.

With one exception.  As a prominent figure, he has to take part in a civic ceremony to Rimmon, who is most likely Hadad (see Zechariah 12:11), the storm god and the head of the Syrian pantheon.  Hadad could be called “Rimmon” because that word means “pomegranate”, which was a symbol of fertility in parts of the ancient world, on account of its many seeds.  As the storm god, Hadad brought the rain that leads to fertility.  But Hadad also had to be appeased not to send devastating rain, which could bring about destruction to the land.

In any case, Naaman said that he had to enter the house of Rimmon with the king of Syria and bow, as the king leaned on his hand.  Naaman asks that God forgive him for this.  And Elisha responds, “Go in peace”.  We’re supposedly not supposed to ask God to forgive sins that we are about to do, but Naaman did precisely that!

Naaman is some distance away, when Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, catches up to him.  Gehazi says that two prophets have just come to Elisha, and Elisha wants a talent of silver and two changes of clothing for them.  Naaman happily gives Gehazi two talents.  When Gehazi returns, Elisha knows what Gehazi has done.  When Elisha questions Gehazi, Gehazi lies to him.  And so the leprosy of Naaman was to cling to Gehazi and to his seed forever.

Here are some thoughts:

1.  I’m intrigued by the use of the word asaph for the healing of Naaman’s leprosy (or whatever skin disease it was).  The disease is treated as a separate entity from Naaman: he can be gathered from his leprosy, and the leprosy can be moved to somebody else, namely, Gehazi.  Christian preachers and commentaries for many ages have likened Naaman’s leprosy to sin.  Is sin who we truly are, or is it a separate entity that afflicts us? 

I think of two things.  At my hairdresser’s appointment, a practitioner of meditation said that meditation is not about us changing, but about us becoming who we truly are.  And yesterday, I watched an episode of Highway to Heaven, Season 3.  Ned Beatty played a television dad, Bill Cassidy, whose behavior in real life is not like his picture-perfect TV image.  As he bosses people around, Mark Gordon remarks, “Boy, I like to have an airplane drop leaflets telling people what this guy’s really like.”  And Jonathan replies, “Do you think that’s the real Bill Cassidy?”   It turns out that it wasn’t the real him: Bill Cassidy once had love in his heart, but he became hardened and reluctant to love others after his father had passed away.

I’m not sure what the biblical stance on this is.  In Genesis 4, God tells Cain that he needs to master sin, which crouches at the door.  Cain can separate himself from his sin and master it, the implication appears to be.  Yet, the Book of Romans presents conversion as the death of the old man, implying that sin is endemic to our old selves: it is who we are.  But Romans 7 has an interesting line: when we sin, even though we don’t really want to do so, then we’re not the ones sinning: rather, the fault lies with the sin within us.  And so, here, there’s a distinction between sin and the sinner.

Is sin who we are?  Is it a condition?  In either perspective, one can say that we aren’t responsible for the wrong that we do.  “I’m a sinner by nature—what do you expect?”  “I did this, but it’s not who I truly am.  Sin is sinning within me!” 

Some of this issue may play out on LOST: one can look at human nature and see greed and selfishness.  But there is also love.  There are nice things that humans do, which is why Jacob figures that they’re not all bad, that they can be improved.      

2.  Many of the Christians I listened to and read interpreted this chapter in light of salvation by grace through faith alone.  Naaman wanted healing, but he needed to become humble.  That’s why Elisha snubbed him and told him to wash in the not-so-impressive Jordan, which is comparable to the not-so-impressive crucifixion of Christ: by humbly embracing something that the world scorns (I Corinthians 1:18-29), we become healed spiritually.  And Naaman offered to pay Elisha for his healing, but Elisha refused: the healing was freely given, as is salvation. 

In the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, I read roughly the same thing, with some differences.  Naaman’s healing in the Jordan was likened to baptism, which isn’t that surprising, since the Septuagint for v 14 says that Naaman baptized himself in the Jordan River.  But Elisha’s snubbing of Naaman is explained in a variety of ways.  Ephrem the Syrian (fourth century C.E.) says that Elisha was snubbing Naaman because Naaman had killed many Israelites in battle, and also because he, as an Israelite, was forbidden to touch a leper.  Caesarius of Arles (fifth-sixth centuries C.E.) likens Elisha to Christ, who did not go out to the Gentiles himself to give them the message of salvation, but rather sent out his servants, the apostles, to communicate that to them. 

I like to read what ancient interpreters had to say, to compare and contrast that with how today’s Christians read the Bible.  What were the concerns of the ancients?  How do they reflect their conceptions of God, and how’s that compare with ours?

I have a question.  Let’s assume for a second the similarity between Naaman’s healing and justification by grace through faith alone.  Suppose that Naaman simply received his healing and went back to his old ways.  He decides not to worship the LORD, and his participation in civil Rimmon worship doesn’t affect his conscience in the least.  Does the analogy with salvation break down here?  There’s debate about whether Christians who live unholy lives or ditch the faith remain saved.  Does healing have to result in a life-change, for that healing to be valid, or to remain? 

I suppose God could have returned Naaman’s leprosy had he decided not to change his life.  But Naaman didn’t want to return to his old way of doing things.  He probably tried a number of things to get healed of his leprosy, and he found them wanting.  When he finally obeyed a prophet of God and dipped in the Jordan, he encountered something that worked, and his conclusion was that there’s only one God, the one in Israel.

I think that’s how it is for many Christians.  But there are also people who don’t think that Christianity works for them.  Others talk about the positive change that has come into their lives through other paths, such as recovery programs, or meditation, or Buddhism. 

And, as I read the Intervarsity Bible Background Commentary, I see that other ancient Near Eastern cultures had healing rituals.  My guess is that they had to work sometimes, for people to believe in them.  But they didn’t help Naaman.  Only the LORD did that.

I’m not going anywhere in particular here.  These are just some thoughts that I had.

3.  The issue of Rimmon.  Naaman’s whole dilemma reminds me of something that a couple I know used to fight about.  This couple goes to a conservative Armstrongite church, which doesn’t observe Christmas, deeming it to be pagan.  Is it permissible for them to go to a Christmas get-together, organized by the man’s grandmother? 

The wife says that doing this acknowledges a pagan festival, so it’s wrong; the man believes that he’s not honoring Christmas or paganism in his heart when he goes to this get-together, but he’s just gathering with family.

And this is how some have tried to explain Naaman’s dilemma.  When Naaman bows to Rimmon, he’s simply participating in a civic religious ritual that he can’t get out of; but he’s not worshipping Rimmon in his heart, for he believes in the LORD alone.  And so God is not displeased when Naaman does this ritual.

But how far does this go?  Couldn’t the early Christians have made the same claim when they were pressured to burn incense to Roman gods?  “Well, I don’t really believe in them, and God knows that, so why not burn incense to them and preserve my own life?”  I suppose so.  But maybe there’s a time to take a stand, and a time when a stand can be futile.  Perhaps the rightness or wrongness of an act depends upon where the person is.  Naaman was a baby Yahwist: he just wanted to worship the LORD, not overthrow the Rimmonite religion in Syria, which would be a futile exercise indeed.  But the early Christians lived in a time when they needed to testify against the corrupt world, proclaiming (in N.T. Wright’s words) that “Jesus is Lord, and Caesar isn’t”.

When I look at older commentaries, I see attempts to explain away Naaman’s actions.  Medieval Jewish commentator Rashi says that Naaman bowed because the king leaned down on him, making him bow.  So, for Rashi, Naaman wasn’t really honoring Rimmon.  Yeah, but Naaman is still in the temple of Rimmon!  If he’s not participating in the ritual in some manner, then what is he doing there?

Many preachers contend that Elisha realized he wasn’t the Holy Spirit.  He didn’t approve of Naaman’s act, nor did he express disapproval.  He simply told him to go in peace, and left it to the Holy Spirit to guide him from there.  This is how some Christians say we should approach the issue of homosexuality (see Review: “Love is an Orientation” by Andrew Marin): rather than beating homosexuals over the head with how wrong their lifestyle is, why not simply love them, encourage them to come to God, and let God guide them from there?

These are my weekly quiet time ramblings for the week!

No True Heroes; Inner Nurturing; Death as Punishment?; Born Again; Post-Exilic Composition or Update?; Prophets; IMDB

1. Samuel C. Hyde, Jr., Pistols and Politics: The Dilemma of Democracy in Louisiana’s Florida Parishes, 1810-1899, page 176:

J.W. Armstead, a black West Feliciana proponent of education, informed congressional investigators that the Republican misuse of school funds created scores of Democratic supporters among the freedmen.

Why would freed slaves support the Democrats, who were the conservative party of the South, the party that looked back at the time of slavery as the “good old days”?  One reason that Hyde cites is that the freed slaves were intimidated by white supremacists against voting Republican.  At the same time, the Republicans were telling freedmen that they wouldn’t get any acres and mules from the Republicans if the G.O.P. got into power, unless the freedmen supported the Republicans.  And so freedmen were caught between a rock and a hard place.

So there were freedmen who were scared into becoming Democrats, or at least into staying home on election day, which was fine with the white supremacists.  But there were also freedmen—many of them—who supported the Democratic Party, on account of the corruption of Republican officials, who misappropriated public funds that were intended to help African-Americans and others in the Louisiana parishes. 

So there were not good guys to root for in the political arena, at least at this point.

2. Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land, page 100:

Agnes should have seen how easily [Smith] was frightened, then she wouldn’t talk that way.  Smith would appeal to the maternal in her.

Fear in a strange world.  The desire for comfort.  If only we could internalize a nurturing sense.  Is that possible? 

3. Erhard Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part I with an Introduction to Cultic Poetry, page 205:

Vv. 9-11 [of Psalm 49] might counteract the preposterous attitudes of the rich: even if they paid the highest ransom, they still must pass away (v. 9).  Could one of them live on and not see the grave (v. 10)?  Certainly not!  Even wise men die (v. 11).  The whole concern is thus with the oppressing class.  The stanza emphasizes the fact that, contrary to appearance, the powerful wealthy are under the unfailing supervision of God and controlled by death…The main emphasis, however, is on hope…because in the last analysis the powerful are only finite human beings…

A sobering statement about death.  But I can see why Judaism eventually adopted a conception of an afterlife.  Sure, the rich oppressors die, and that should humble them.  But so does everybody else, including the oppressed, so why would the oppressed feel better at the prospect of their oppressors dying?  All people die.  Plus, couldn’t another oppressor take the departed oppressor’s place?  And Job talks about rich oppressors who die in a state of happiness.  For Job, death’s not a real punishment for them!  I can understand why Judaism felt a need to embrace a scenario in which justice triumphs, things are made right, and the good and the bad get what they deserve. 

But human mortality is still very humbling.

4. Richard Sarason, A History of the Mishnaic Law of Agriculture: A Study of Tractate Demai, page 229:

Sarason talks about a Gentile proselyte to Judaism and his Gentile brother, whose father dies.  The proselyte is now a Jew, so he is prohibited to derive benefit from idolatry.  Consequently, he is forbidden to inherit the father’s idols and libation wine.  That stuff can go to the Gentile brother.  But the proselyte can still stipulate that he wants to inherit money and produce.  To do so, he must make a “formal act of acquisition”.  Under the rabbinic law that Sarason discusses, proselytes have no inheritance rites, for they have been born anew as Jews, and thus are severed from their old family.  But they can still legally stipulate what they want from their father’s property.

At Harvard, Jon Levenson once presented us with a scenario.  Under Judaism, a Gentile loses his old identity and becomes the son of Abraham and Sarah when he converts.  And so Levenson posed a question: suppose the man’s mother also converts.  Can they marry each other?  Technically, they’re no longer mother and son, for they have new identities.  Levenson’s response was that Judaism says they can’t marry each other, because that looks bad to outsiders. 

5. Baruch Levine, Numbers 1-20, pages 107-108:

Levine tries to date P according to its language—whether it reflects Hebrew that is early or late.  Numbers 2 and 10 use the term degel, “otherwise known from Aramaic documents of the Persian period as the designation for a military unit arrayed around a fort or command post.”  But Levine does not conclude that Numbers 2 and 10 were originally written in the Persian Period, but “only that they were redacted or adapted at that time”—namely, in the sixth-fifth centuries B.C.E.

But there are other sections of P that Levine dates to the Persian Period—when he believes that they originated, rather than merely being updated.  He refers to Numbers 30, which uses the term issar, “ban”, in the context of a discussion on vows.  According to Levine, “The term is basic to the entire votive system embodied in that chapter, so in no way can it be regarded as editorial.”  The term “has now turned up in the Samaria Papyri from Wadi Daliye, dated to the third quarter of the fourth century”.  And the term appears nowhere else in the Hebrew Bible, except for the Aramaic sections of Daniel, which is late, by both conservative and liberal standards.  So Levine dates Numbers 30 to the fifth-fourth century B.C.E. 

I was once talking with a colleague about the age of documents: can we say they are late because they have later features?  His response was that the text could be early, yet be updated at a later time.  Levine takes this possibility into account, but he offers a way to distinguish composition in a late date from editorial updating. 

6.  For my ATLA book review reading, I realized that I should probably take a look at some of the books.  I’ll still be reading and writing about book reviews, for I can’t read all of the books in time.  But I should probably be a little more knowledgeable about the scholarly debates about what prophets are—are they poets, or prophets, or both?  I’ve heard that my professor who’s giving me my Hebrew Bible comp views the prophets primarily in a literary sense, rather than as actual fortune-tellers.  That coincides with one book review I read, which reviewed a book that presented the Book of Zephaniah as a writing that has multiple post-exilic compositions within it.  For this author, if there was a prophet Zephaniah, he didn’t have much to do with the final form of the book that bears his name!

Some of the books also cover Native American prophecy, which sounds interesting to me. 

7.  I got Volume 2 of Season 3 of Highway to Heaven today.  You know, there are actors in episodes that I have seen over and over, but I never connected who they were with other shows I had watched.  I watched one that had the lady who played Miriam on the Ten Commandments (“Blessed am I among all mothers in the land…”), and she also was Mary on Ben Hur.  On another episode, there was one of the Baldwin sisters from the Waltons, but she doesn’t remind me of her all that much—not only because she’s not drinking recipe, or waiting for Ashley (the father of Riker from Star Trek: The Next Generation, who plays Ashley’s son) to come back, but also because she doesn’t have that dainty quality that she has on the Waltons. 

The Internet Movie Database opens a lot of doors!

Merlin Olsen

I learned yesterday that Merlin Olsen has passed away.  Merlin Olsen was a football player, a sports commentator, and an actor on such programs as Little House on the Prairie, Father Murphy, and Aaron’s Way.  My family called him “Mr. Flowers” because he was a deliverer of flowers on TV commercials.

Here are some Merlin Olsen moments that I want to share:

1.  Merlin Olsen was Victor French’s replacement on Little House on the Prairie, after French had left the show to star on the series Carter Country.  Here’s what’s ironic.  On an episode of Highway to Heaven, Victor French’s character, Mark Gordon, was delivering flowers to a football player in his hospital bed.  The football player said to French, “With your beard and the flowers, I thought you were Merlin Olsen!”

2.  I enjoyed some of Merlin Olsen’s Little House episodes, in which he played Jonathan Garvey.  One was called “The High Cost of Being Right,” and it was about Jonathan and Alice getting a divorce, which, fortunately, did not happen.  But the title has often moved me, since it reminds me that always having to be right can lead to a lot of disaster in relationships.

On another episode, a telephone network is set up in Walnut Grove, and the nosy operator, Mrs. Olsen, listens to other people’s phone conversations.  She learns that Alice Garvey had a husband before she met Jonathan, and that he’s being released from jail.  Jonathan is outraged to learn about this, and he goes to meet his wife’s ex-husband, who works at a bar.  Jonathan doesn’t tell him who he is, and he comes to sympathize with the man, as well as appreciate the treasure that his wife truly is. 

It was sad when Alice Garvey died on the show, and Jonathan and his son, Andy, had to move on.  I admired how Jonathan still accepted Albert, the boy who accidentally set fire to the blind school, resulting in Alice Garvey’s death.  He even went after Albert when Albert ran away.

There are other moments in my mind from the show, as when Jonathan became a wrestler in an episode with Ray Walston (who looked the same as when he was older), and busted corruption as a town sheriff.  Then there’s the episode in which Albert and Andy try to prove to their fathers, Charles and Jonathan (respectively), that they can survive on their own.  The fathers secretly follow their sons, hoping to bail them out when they turn out to be wrong.  But it’s the fathers who end up with egg on their faces, on more than one occasion!  And the fathers admit to their kids that the kids did a good job.

3.  Unfortunately, I never got to see Father Murphy, which was another show made by Michael Landon (though Landon didn’t star in it).  I’d like to someday, but the DVDs are too expensive for my budget!  But my family enjoyed Aaron’s Way, which was on for only a year.  On that show, Merlin Olsen played Aaron, the father of an Amish family, which was continually confronting modernity.  I remember Aaron giving a Bible study to his family under a tree, which reminded me of my dad’s family Bible studies. 

But another scene that sticks out to me after more than twenty years is when Aaron is called to the witness stand and asked if he swore to tell the truth.  He replies, “I do not,” to baffled stares.  After he explains that the Amish don’t believe in swearing and think that an oath is between man and God, the judge asks him if he’ll just be honest in his testimony.  Aaron says that he will.  This scene stuck out to me because I’ve often wondered if Christians are to swear oaths, since Jesus told us to swear not at all (Matthew 5:34).  When my high school had a mock trial and I was a pathologist, I just said in response to the oath, ”I affirm,” which got snickers, because it was so unusual.

In any case, R.I.P. Merlin Olsen.  It’s sad that so many of the Little House greats are dying off—Michael Landon, Victor French, Kevin Hagen, and now Merlin Olsen.

Roots TNG 1, Baltzer on the Suffering Servant, Dahood on the Afterlife, Bold Gideon, Apuleius—Meet Melinda Gordon and Jonathan Smith

1.  For Black History Month today, I watched the first episode of Roots: The Next Generation.  On it, Chicken George’s son, Tom Harvey, tries to help African-Americans in the post-slavery South.  He supports a school for African-American children, but he has to appease the influential former Confederate Colonel Frederick Warner (played by Henry Fonda) to get the project off the ground.  And Tom’s active in politics, which often requires him to side with the lesser of two evils (as his ornery father, Chicken George, likes to carp on). 

Although slavery has ended, we still see the tension that I discussed in my post, Roots 3: Two Mindsets, Adopting a Heritage, Clinging to a Dream.  There, I talked about two types of slaves.  One type tries to make a good life for himself and his loved ones within the system of slavery.  This attempt can be successful, but it’s not fool-proof, for the slave master still has the power to harm his slave.  The other kind wants freedom, and is willing to do anything to get it.  Sometimes he succeeds; often, he fails.  But he goes down fighting.

In the first episode of Roots: The Next Generation, Tom Harvey is trying to make a good life for African-Americans within the racist system.  To keep the school open, he feels that he has to compromise to appease Colonel Warner, who wants to fire the highly educated African-American schoolteacher because his son (played by Richard Thomas) wants to marry her.  Tom’s daughter, Elizabeth, calls Tom a “Jim Crow,” appealing to Kunta Kinte’s desire for freedom, and asking her father what he has done with the freedom that they now have.  There are times when Tom Harvey stands up to the white oppressor, as when a train conductor refuses to seat him in the white section, even though Tom has a first class ticket.  But, in the end, what can he do?  He feels that he needs to appease the powerful, wealthy whites in order to help his own people.

I talked some about this in my post yesterday, Jesse Owens Story, Righteous Sufferer, The Proof of the Pudding, Priestess of the Household, Evil.  Jesse Owens preferred a peaceful approach of dialogue and encouragement of sound living to improve the conditions of African-Americans, and he looked askance at civil disobedience and calls for violence.  The African-American investigating him called his approach “waiting for whatever crumbs the white man gives you.”  Other African-American leaders, however, preferred to get into the face of the white establishment,  disrupting their oppressors’ day-to-day lives until they got what they wanted. 

Which works?  Gradualism, education, and waiting for people to accept the idea of equality?  Or in-your-face disruption?  I’m not an African-American, so I can’t really comment on this, except to say that there may be a time and a place for both approaches.  And it’s a question that other movements grapple with as well.

Another issue: the afterlife.  When Chicken George dies, Tom prays that his father might be received into heaven to be with George’s mother Kizzy and his ancestor from Africa, Kunta Kinte.  This puzzles me because I wonder what Tom thinks are the requirements for entrance into heaven.  He’s a Christian, right?  But, why would Kunta be in heaven, if he’d never accepted Christ as his personal Savior?  Kunta said defiantly throughout his episodes of Roots that he was loyal to Allah and would not become a Christian.  Does the author of Episode 1 of Roots: The Next Generation misunderstand Christian doctrine? 

I’d like to say so, but in a later episode, Simon Haley tells his son, Alex, why he doesn’t like Malcom X: “I’ve always accepted Christ as my personal Savior and feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t.”  Simon’s problem was that Malcom was a Muslim, who hadn’t accepted Christ as his personal Savior.  Did Tom Harvey have an inclusivist picture of the afterlife?  Or perhaps he’s like many people, even those with Christian backgrounds: he either believes that everyone goes to heaven after death, or that being a good person is enough to get one through the pearly gates.   

2.  In Ancient Israelite Religion, I read Klaus Baltzer’s “Liberation from Debt Slavery After the Exile in Second Isaiah and Nehemiah.”  On page 478, he seems to interpret the servant of Second Isaiah as Israel.  This somewhat surprised me, for, in his Hermeneia commentary on Second Isaiah, Baltzer interprets the servant as Moses.  In Exodus 32:32-33, Moses is interceding with the Israelites after they had worshipped the Golden Calf.  Moses asks God to blot his name from the book that God has written—to take Moses’ life instead of that of the Israelites.  God responds that God doesn’t work that way: he blots out the names of those who have sinned. 

According to Baltzer, the Servant Songs of Second Isaiah are about God allowing Moses to die in place of Israel, enabling Israel’s redemption.  The result is that the servant is not named, indicating that Moses’ name has been blotted out of God’s book.

I’m not sure what the implications of this are, if I’m even understanding Baltzer correctly.  Baltzer views Second Isaiah as like a play.  He may be arguing that, within that play, you have the character of Moses, who delivers Israel out of bondage to take her to the Promised Land, offering to die in the people’s place when they sin.  But the referent to the play is, not the Exodus, but a similar situation: God delivering Israel from Babylonian captivity and taking her to the Promised Land.

3.  In Psalms II: 51-100, Mitchell Dahood says that he has an unconventional view on the issue of the Psalms and eternal life.  Many scholars contend that, when the Psalmist asks God to redeem him from the pit, he’s talking about God saving him from a near-death experience, not resurrection or blissful immortality.  Dahood offers some references where he comments on this issue, so, in this post, I’ll see what he has to say.

I didn’t look at all of Dahood’s references, but only the ones in volume 2.  His argument appears to be that, in Ugaritic literature, a god’s court or mountain or house can refer to his abode outside of the earthly realm, what many of us would call “heaven.”  So, for Dahood, when the Psalmist asks to dwell in these places forever, he’s talking about entering a celestial Paradise and being with God after death.  And there are precedents for this, Dahood says, for God took Enoch and Elijah to heaven.  Moreover, in Ugaritic literature, there are people who almost attain eternal life or who actually succeed (Utnapishtim, the Noah figure in the Epic of Gligamesh). 

Sure, in the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East, we see the concept that people after death go to the Underworld.  But could Dahood be correct that the Psalmist hoped for something different—to be with God in the celestial realm and to live forever, as did Enoch and Elijah, and (at least in terms of eternal life) certain ancient Near Eastern figures?

4.  On page 147 of Narrative History and Ethnic Boundaries, Theodore Mullen says the following about Gideon: The narrative now returns to the issue of the oppressive activities of the Midianites and the need for deliverance that introduced this series of accounts.  If the foreign god could be overcome, then surely the foreign oppressor could also be defeated.

I wondered if Mullen was mistaken about the Midianites worshipping Baal, until I remembered that they promoted the worship of the Baal of Peor in Numbers 25.

Mullen’s statement helps me to appreciate the weight of what Gideon did when he tore down the altar of Baal.  In those days, people believed that dishonoring a god’s holy place could lead that god to make the defiler’s life a living hell, if the god didn’t kill him first.  That’s why overcoming the god was considered almost as significant as defeating flesh-and-blood oppressors.  Gideon must have had strong faith that his God was more powerful than Baal, or was existent whereas Baal was not.

5.  In the Middle Platonists, on pages 318-319, John Dillon discusses the views of  the second century C.E. philosopher Apuleius.  Dillon refers to the ancient belief that daemons were in the air.  This stood out to me because Ephesians 2:2 refers to Satan as the prince of the power of the air.  Granted, the ancients didn’t necessarily see daemons as evil spirits, but rather as helpful guides and intermediaries between humans and the divine.  But perhaps early Christianity saw them as demons, the same way that Paul called the gods of the other nations devils (I Corinthians 10:20-21).

On another topic, Apuleius said that good souls departing from their bodies “are entrusted with the care of definite parts of the earth, and even with individual households.”  But those “who have died in sin, on the other hand, wander over the world in a sort of exile, causing what havoc they can.”  For Apuleius, these ghosts can be used to punish wicked men, “but should not cause alarm to the good.”

I like what Apuleius says here because it somewhat conforms to the Armstrongite picture of the afterlife: we won’t just be playing a harp in heaven, but will be helping people in some capacity.  So this life actually is a preparation for the life thereafter: we’re being prepared for a vocation of humble service. 

The fate of the bad souls reminds me of the show, Ghost Whisperer.  Melinda’s goal is to cross departed souls into the light, a place of forgiveness and peace and reunion with loved ones.  But they have to take care of unfinished business before they can cross.  Some spirits, led by a deceased cult leader, prefer to stay behind on earth to gain power and to cause havoc.  They’re like the bad souls that Apuleias talks about—only they will probably harm the good people, not just the wicked deserving of punishment.  But some are staying behind because they feel that they have to atone for their sins before they cross over.  They’re trying to serve humanity to make up for some evil that they did before they died.  This differs from Apuleias, who held that the good departed souls were the ones who would serve humanity, not the souls on probation.  But I guess that we see the concept of ghosts on probation helping others before they earn their wings in other stories—Highway to Heaven, for example. 

I wonder if some of these ideas can be reconciled with the Christian worldview in any way.