Assyria, Babylon, Whoever!

On page 131 of Messianism Within the Scriptural Scrolls of Isaiah, Randall Heskett states the following:

“[Isaiah] 11:11-16 reflects the exact style and order of the fifth century oracle in 62:10-12.  The way in which the editors have linked these promises of salvation to the nations in 11:10-12, with 11:1-9, shows that the rule of this king now extends to the whole earth (contra Wegner).  For if one could prove that vv. 1-9 were pre-exilic (though this is not likely), vv. 10-12 shape vv. 1-9 by a response to the exile, using some elements that are part of (post-exilic) messianism.  For example, vv. 10-11 claim that all nations will seek “the stump of Jesse,” the exiles will return from foreign nations and all of Israel’s enemies will be defeated.”

But these messianic oracles refer to Assyria.  Wouldn’t that make sense in the time that Assyria was a major power and threat to Judah: the eighth century B.C.E., Judah’s pre-exilic period?  I think Isaiah was predicting that Assyria would really decimate Judah and take exiles, but that God would restore Judah—her people and her weakened monarchy (the stump)—after his judgment and purification of her.  God would rebuild Judah from a remnant and returning exiles, and Judah and Ephraim would then be a light to the nations.  Why would Assyria be a major culprit in a post-exilic writing?  In such a case, would Assyria be a symbol for another nation—one that was powerful in the post-exilic period?  In my opinion, it’s easier to say that Assyria was Assyria in the eighth century B.C.E.  Isaiah expected Assyria to do certain things, but these things did not happen, for God delivered Jerusalem out of Assyria’s hands.  In a sense, God changed his mind.  And yet, in a way that I do not understand, God’s plan to preserve a remnant remained (Isaiah 37:32). 

My problem with my interpretation is this: had Judah experienced God’s judgment at the hands of the Assyrians, God would have then rebuilt the nation and established the paradise described in Isaiah 2 and 11; but Hezekiah trusted in God, and so the LORD delivered Judah from the Assyrians, and there was thus no paradise.  So, in my scenario, things would have turned out better for Judah and the world had Hezekiah not trusted in God.  Does that sound right?   

On page 112, Randall talks about the different uses of “Immanuel” (“God with us”) in Isaiah 8.  In vv 6-8, Immanuel is associated with God’s judgment against Judah, at the hands of the king of Assyria.  (A professor of mine once said that this teaches there’s no cheap grace: God being with us can entail purification and judgment for God’s people, not just goodies.)  In vv 9-10, however, Immanuel is interpreted in terms of God saving Judah from her enemies.  Randall states on pages 111-112:

“Even if vv. 9-10 originally spoke of the time of Assyrian domination, the later editing in 8:19-22 underscores that God’s judgment was ultimately achieved in 587 B.C.E., thus temporarily setting YHWH’s protection in abeyance.  In the aftermath of Nebuchadnezzar’s invasion, Judah would have understood vv. 6-8 as having been fulfilled, and 8:9-10 would now present ‘God with us’ as a sign of future salvation.”

But how could the editors of Isaiah understand Isaiah 8:6-8 in light of Nebuchadnezzar’s conquest and exile of the Jews in 587 B.C.E., when those verses clearly refer to Assyria, not Babylon?  My thought is that the editors weren’t particularly strict when it came to the identity of the conquering nation.  I vaguely recall seeing rabbinic writings that apply biblical writings about Jerusalem’s destruction in 587 B.C.E. to her destruction in 70 C.E., even though the Babylonians did the first destruction, whereas the Romans did the second one. 

Moreover, in my weekly quiet time on II Kings, as I read the Jewish Encyclopedia‘s articles on Nebuchadnezzar and Nebuzaradan, I saw that rabbinic literature—in a sense—tended to conflate the Assyrians with the Babylonians.  This article on Nebuchadnezzar cites rabbinic sources in which Nebuchadnezzar is depicted as the son-in-law of Sennacherib of Assyria, “with whom he took part in the expedition of the Assyrians against Hezekiah”.  According to rabbinic literature, Nebuzaradan, too, ”witnessed Sennacherib’s defeat before the walls of Jerusalem” (see here).  Then there’s the Book of Judith, which calls Nebuchadnezzar the king of Assyria.   

So interpreters may have been more fluid than I might initially suspect when it came to the identity of Israel’s enemy.  Even if a prophecy applied to Assyria, later editors could read it in light of Babylon.      

II Kings 25; Almost Done with Randall’s Book

1.  Today was a Sabbath, namely, the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles, and so I did a weekly quiet time.  I studied II Kings 25, which is the last chapter of the book. 

I like how it ends on a note of hope: Evil-Merodach, the king of Babylon who succeeded Nebuchadnezzar, releases King Jehoiachin of Judah from prison, elevates Jehoiachin above the other captive kings, allows Jehoiachin to dine in his presence, and gives him a regular allowance.  If the Deuteronomistic History was composed in exile, then it seems to be searching for some glimmer of hope amidst dark circumstances.  The Deuteronomist doesn’t draw sweeping conclusions from Evil-Merodach’s elevation of Jehoiachin (“Oh, the exile is coming to a close!”).  He just mentions it.  But why does he mention it?  I think it’s because he deems it significant: he wonders if its an indication that God hasn’t given up on his people.

I’m not big on getting my hopes up, for that leads me to disappointment.  I’ve had times in my life when I’ve interpreted good things in my life as a sign that God was leading me in a certain direction, only to find myself, well, not where I was expecting God to lead me!  But I don’t think it’s wrong for me to look at a situation that appears to be hopeful and to think, “Maybe, just maybe.”  But I also have to be willing to cope with a “maybe not.”

Where will I go next in my weekly quiet time?  Answer: the Book of Ecclesiastes!  I’m curious about how faith communities that believe in an afterlife cope with a book that appears to deny an afterlife.  Well, many of them reinterpret the book’s message to be consistent with an afterlife!  But how do they interact with the passages in Ecclesiastes that contradict that?  That’s one question that will be swimming through my mind as I study the Book of Ecclesiastes and its interpreters!

2.  I was expecting to finish Randall Short’s The Surprising Election and Confirmation of King David today, but that did not happen!  I’ll probably get it done tonight, though.

In my reading today, Randall points out times in the narrative where Saul calls David his son, and he also notes that Saul rarely refers to Jonathan as his son, nor does Jonathan call Saul his father all that often.  When they do so, the context is usually negative.

I’m not entirely sure what Randall’s point is here, but it may have to do with the narrative’s attempt to uphold David’s right to the throne.  Randall says that David takes Jonathan’s place as the one who fights the battles of the LORD.  In a sense, David is like a son of Saul, the one who will obviously become Saul’s heir and successor.  Randall also notes passages in which David is said to perform kingly duties even before he becomes king, in a time when he’s on the run from Saul!  David fights the LORD’s battles and leads people, even then. 

That reminds me of a book I read at Harvard Divinity School, Parker Palmer’s Let Your Life Speak.  Palmer said that we can tell what our destiny will be—or what our vocation should be—by looking at what we’ve enjoyed doing throughout our lives.  He, for example, liked to write as a child, and he grew up to become a writer.  There’s a connection between where we are and where God is taking us.  At the same time, if you’re in a bleak situation, my opinion (for what it’s worth) is that you shouldn’t despair, for God can put you in situations to discover and develop your talents.

Randall also discussed the point that Samuel needed to anoint David in secrecy, for he didn’t want to get in trouble with Saul.  That may be true in the narrative.  At the same time, Samuel did confront Saul and declare that God had rejected Saul from being king, so was Samuel really that afraid of Saul?  But telling Saul something is one thing.  Actually going out and anointing another king is something else!

As I’ve told my readers before, I’ve done “The Church of James Pate’s Brain” to help me fall asleep.  Most of the time, I fantasize about having a church radio program (or, actually, a station) in which I preach about God’s love and mercy.  But I’ve tried to do some episodes in which I speak to Bible times.  In some cases, I just pretend that radios existed back then and that ancient Israelites were listening to them!  But that’s too unrealistic, and so I imagine myself setting up proclamation sessions in the open air, preaching to ancient Israelites—like a tent revival.  When I was on the Saul and David times, I was preaching in favor of David.  Then it hit me: had I really done that, I probably would have lost my life, for I would have been proclaiming treason against King Saul—at least in the eyes of Saul and his sympathizers!

Finishing Blocher; Price-Controls; II Kings 24

1.  I finished Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning just now.  In his appendix, he discusses the creationist/evolutionist debate, presenting each side in a fair manner (in my opinion).  He finds the young-earth, anti-evolution creationist arguments to be wanting, contending that one can believe in the Bible while accepting the old age of the earth and evolution.  Blocher says that we don’t have to take Genesis 1 literally, and that God can use natural processes.  Regarding early man, I’m not sure where Blocher stands.  He talks some about when man got to the point where he was in the image of God, but he remarks that “we are not quite certain what it is we are looking for when we try to discover the first man largely in terms of incomplete skeletons” (page 231). 

I was hoping that this book would focus more on how to reconcile the Bible and evolution, from an evangelical perspective.  Maybe there are jewels in it that I missed.  Right now, I want to move on to something else.  I’m thinking of Kenneth Miller’s Finding Darwin’s God.

2.  In Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lessons, I read about government price-controls, the minimum wage, and unions.  Hazlitt criticizes all three as detriments to production, although he does praise unions for promoting skills in workers.  Hazlitt’s argument against price-controls is that they create shortages.  If a company can’t raise prices so it can earn enough money to produce stuff and make a profit, then it just won’t produce stuff.  (I think that’s what he’s saying.)  But why can’t the company produce more stuff, sell it at a low price, and earn more money that way?  Maybe Hazlitt would say that the high prices are essential for the company to get the structure it needs in order to do that.

3.  My weekly quiet time was on II Kings 24.  I guess what stood out to me was the oddness of the chapter.  God sends enemies against Judah in the days of King Jehoiakim, in order to remove Judah from his sight, on account of the sins of Manasseh.  But Judah is not removed from God’s sight during the reign of Jehoiakim, for Jehoiakim is replaced with another king from the line of David, Jehoiachin.  Under Jehoiachin, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon besieges Jerusalem and takes away her palace elite, her mighty men of war, and her smiths and craftsmen.  How could Judah do anything militarily now?  And yet, Jehoiachin’s successor, Zedekiah, feels confident enough to revolt, under the prompting of God, who’s setting Judah up to fail!  Zedekiah may have gotten soldiers from the population of Judah, only they weren’t “mighty men”.

Drawing Yom Kippur to a Close…

The Day of Atonement is drawing to a close.  This year, I’ve drawn lessons on it from a variety of sources: my weekly quiet time on II Kings 24, Harold Kushner’s Who Needs God?, Miroslav Volf’s Against the Tide, Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning, Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lesson, and my personal experience. 

What I’ve concluded is that there have been times in my life when I have been selfish and have not thought about how I have impacted others.  Now, I should work to have compassion and empathy for other people. 

But don’t I already know this?  Don’t I write about it on my blog?  Don’t I remind myself of that when I do the “Church of James Pate’s Brain” at night, as I try to fall asleep?

Yes, but it’s still a battle.  There is good and there is evil within me.  I need to “yield to that right spirit”, as my Grandpa Pate would say.  It’s a daily decision.  And God loves me through all of it. 

Why fast this time of year?  Well, I think it’s a good idea for me to fast sometime—to get closer to God, or to be reminded of my vulnerability, or to learn to appreciate food.  Fasting also sets apart this day as special, and gives me an opportunity to think about God and where I am going with life.

I’m debating whether I should eat at an Indian restaurant or eat macaroni at home.  I’ll see!

II Kings 23 and 9/11

For my weekly quiet time today, I studied II Kings 23.  King Josiah of Judah is inaugurating reforms in response to the Book of the Law that was discovered in the temple.  He cleanses Judah and even Northern Israel of paganism, centralizes worship in Jerusalem, and institutes a national celebration of the Passover.  He’s righteous, by Deuteronomistic standards.  And yet, something tragic happens to him: Josiah is killed by Pharaoh Neco.  The prophetess Huldah had predicted that Josiah would die in peace, but Josiah is killed.

I read many claims that Huldah’s prophecy was not contradicted by the manner of Josiah’s death.  Some said that Josiah experienced the blessed, peaceful afterlife of the righteous, so he had peace that way.  E.W. Bullinger affirmed that Josiah died in a state of inner peace.  Many said that Josiah died in peace in the sense that he did not live to see the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 B.C.E., when his son, Zedekiah, was ruling.  The fourth century Christian thinker Ambrose, an influence on Augustine, remarked that God took Josiah specifically so he wouldn’t have to experience that event.

I read an interesting article about this topic, Stanley Frost’s “Death of Josiah: A Conspiracy of Silence”, which appeared in a 1968 edition of The Journal of Biblical Literature.  Frost’s point is that the death of Josiah was a shocking event.  Not only did it contradict the religious view that the righteous were rewarded, whereas the wicked were punished, but it also shattered Judah’s political hopes under Josiah.  According to Frost (and many others), Josiah was trying to revive the Davidic kingdom, which was why he was extending his influence into Northern Israel.  Now that the Babylonians were beating up on the Assyrians, Judah had a chance to be free from Assyria’s oppressive thumb.  But Pharaoh Neco was going up to help his ally, the Assyrians, in an attempt to maintain Assyrian and Egyptian power.  Josiah tried to stop him and got killed in Megiddo in the process, and people in Judah were disappointed. 

For Frost, II Kings 23 tried to explain this tragedy by saying that Manasseh was wicked, and so Josiah died on account of Manasseh’s sins.  (The text actually says that Jerusalem was destroyed for Manasseh’s sins, notwithstanding the righteousness of Josiah.)  But Frost doesn’t think this explanation flies with Jeremiah, who foresees a day when people will die for their own sins, not the sins of their ancestors (Jeremiah 31:29-30).  Several years later, the Chronicler offers an explanation, in II Chronicles 35: God was trying to tell Josiah through Pharaoh Neco not to fight the king of Egypt, for it wasn’t Josiah’s battle.  But Josiah in his pride did not listen. 

But even this explanation was inadequate, as far as Frost is concerned, for the Chronicler presents Neco saying the same thing that Sennacherib said to Hezekiah: that God is on the side of a foreign aggressor, and so resistance is futile (II Kings 18:25).  Yet, God wasn’t on the side of Assyria, for God slaughtered the Assyrian army when it was encamped to attack Jerusalem.  So how would a righteous Israelite king know when to trust a foreign king who claims to have heard from God, and when not to do so?  That could be why a later text, I Esdras 1:28, added that Jeremiah told Josiah not to fight Neco: Josiah couldn’t trust a Gentile king’s “God told me”, but the words of Jeremiah carried some weight!

Was the death of Josiah like the 9/11 of ancient Judah (only not as severe as our 9/11), a time when life didn’t make sense?  Some have said that Josiah was the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, the righteous king who dies for the sins of Israel.  As I said yesterday in my post, Trickling Out (to Other Countries); “Least” Idea?; Post-Exilic Second Isaiah?, P. Kyle McCarter states that a layer of the David and Goliath story emerged in the times of Josiah to encourage Judah that God could give her victory, even though she was the least.  Did the death of Josiah make Israel feel weak, maybe even hopeless?

Today, I listened to a debate between atheist Christopher Hitchens and Rabbi David Wolpe.  The problem of evil was a big topic in that debate.  David Wolpe said that he doesn’t see God as his doctor, but trusts God to be with him in his experience of disease.  He also remarked that God doesn’t punish thieves with illness because then people would avoid theft for the wrong reasons—to keep from getting a disease—rather than out of an ethical motivation that stealing is wrong.  Hitchen glibly stated that he’s not as concerned about why bad things happen to good people, as he is about why good things so often happen to bad people.  I agree with both.   

Perhaps Josiah shouldn’t have tried to pick a fight with Neco.  Maybe God would have worked things out some other way.  You know, one thing that has astounded me this past week has been how conservative Christians I have dismissed as “narrow-minded” actually criticized the Florida pastor who planned to burn the Koran.  These Christians have stereotyped all Muslims as evil, as liars, as people who want to take down the United States, and yet they believe that Jesus calls them to love their enemies, and so burning the Koran is inappropriate.  One lady remarked that God is working things out, for the proposed “Ground Zero mosque” is about to be moved.  (Actually, it turns out that this may not happen!)  But here are people who believe that Muslims are dangerous, and yet they feel compelled to love them.  I’m not saying that they do so enough.  I’m just glad that there is a part of their Christian belief-system that motivates them to love their enemies and to trust God with the outcome.   

Light in Judah; Historical Polemic?; Inefficient Employment

I feel like I’m getting a cold, so my points today will be brief.

1.  Today is a Sabbath, the Feast of Trumpets, so I did a chapter from my weekly quiet time.  I studied II Kings 22, which is about King Josiah of Judah.  Josiah decides to repair the temple, but the priest Hilkiah discovers therein a book of the law.  Josiah tears his clothes when he hears the words of the law, for he realizes that Judah has not followed it.  He sends some of his officials to consult the LORD, and they go to the prophetess Huldah.  Huldah says that Judah will be destroyed because of the nation’s worship of other gods, but that Josiah will die in peace.

How were people expected to know the will of God without a Torah?  I mean, Josiah stumbled upon it accidentally, and he was surprised to hear the things in it.  Did God hold Judah accountable for laws she did not know about?

But it wasn’t as if Judah had no light from God whatsoever.  She had a temple to the God of Israel, so she knew who he was.  There were prophets.  Josiah felt it was possible to consult the LORD through a prophet, but he could also have done so through the priest, who had the Urim and the Thummim.  Prophets told King Manasseh years before that what he was doing was wrong.  King Hezekiah before him knew enough about the law of God to destroy the high places.  And this was after the Torah scroll had been hidden to protect it from Ahaz’s anti-Torah rampage—or so say the rabbis. 

At the same time, Manasseh could dismiss the prophets of the LORD, for there were false prophets speaking in the name of the LORD, or prophets for other religions.  In short, there were competing claims for revelation, and could the will of God be clear to people in such a situation?

2.  In my reading today of In the Beginning, Blocher says (if I’m understanding him correctly) that the author of Genesis 3 is taking a swipe at pagan religions of the ancient Near East, which viewed the serpent as a wise and healing being.  At the same time, Blocher goes to great lengths to contend that Genesis 3 actually happened in history, using many of the fundamentalist arguments that several of us have heard (i.e., we need the Fall to be historical for redemption to be real, etc.).  But can Blocher have it both ways?  If Genesis 3 is a polemic, how can it be historical?  Did God know that nations would honor a serpent, and so he created a serpent to be an antagonist to Adam and Eve?  Or did the serpent come first, and nations then came to honor him?

3.  In my reading today of Economics in One Lesson, Henry Hazlitt criticizes those who try to preserve jobs through inefficiency.  Some in his day said that technology got rid of jobs.  Union people tried to preserve jobs by making sure that workers stuck with the tasks they were assigned, rather than infringing on the tasks assigned to other people.  They also pushed for shorter work-weeks so that there could be more workers.

Hazlitt believes that full employment can contribute to production, but he doesn’t like efforts to stifle production in the name of “full employment”.  As far as he’s concerned, efficiency can create jobs.  If a machine makes shirts, for example, the owner of a shirt-store may lay off those who sewed the shirts together, since a machine now does their work.  But jobs are created to make the machines.  The owner can expand his business and hire more workers.  And, as more shirts get produced, the price of shirts comes down, and consumers can spend their money on other things, which helps the economy.  Jobs are lost due to technology, but jobs are also regained.

But what if the shirts are made in China or Mexico?  Does that help the American economy?  Tomorrow, I plan to read Hazlitt’s thoughts on free trade.

Terse, Not-So-Spiritual Rants

I’m a little tired right now, probably because I got up late and thus finished my weekly quiet time and my readings later than usual.  So my comments will be terse.

1.  For my weekly quiet time, I studied II Kings 21, which is about the reign of King Manasseh of Judah.  Manasseh instituted pagan worship practices and shed innocent blood.  According to traditions, he killed prophets, including Isaiah (whom he sawed in two while Isaiah was in a tree).

Manasseh killing people was wrong.  But guess what?  In Deuteronomy 18, we see that the group that produced Deuteronomy favored killing prophets whom it didn’t like—just because they didn’t believe in the group’s religious ideology.  I’ve talked about this before in my study of I-II Kings: yes, Jezebel killed the prophets of the LORD, but Elijah and Jehu killed the prophets of Baal.  Both sides didn’t seem to care for freedom of religion. 

But at least the Deuteronomist didn’t believe in passing children through fire!

I usually want my weekly quiet time posts to affirm the text and to draw inspiring, edifying lessons from it.  This one doesn’t.  I hope I’m not on a downward trend!

2.  In Bringing the Hidden to Light, Alan Cooper talks about medieval Jews who disliked the study of philosophy, viewing it as a harlot that leads people away from Judaism. 

Why do some Christians treat Christianity as if it’s a fragile vase—oh, you don’t want to study this, because you may have doubts and ditch the faith!  Shouldn’t the faith be stronger than that? 

3.  I’m continuing my way through Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning.  In the chapter that I read today, Blocher discusses the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, going through various ideas as to what that was all about.  The position at which he arrives is that Adam and Eve, by eating from the tree, were trying to exercise autonomy in moral matters rather than being subservient to God.  Such autonomy belongs only to God.  (Does this explain why God can order mass genocide, while we’re supposed to view murder as immoral—God’s not subservient to the moral rules that he imposes on others?)  But what’s ironic, according to Blocher, is that we think we’re autonomous, when actually we’re subservient to sin.

Personally, I have issues when certain good principles are made into a law, for then I fall short, or feel guilty because I don’t measure up, or feel proud when I do.  I’m not talking so much about reasonable rules, such as those against murder or theft.  I’m talking about, say, the Christian rule that I should be cheerful and happy, and draw others to Christ through my cheerfulness and happiness.  I feel better when I’m not strapped by an iron-clad rule.

II Kings 20

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 20.

King Hezekiah of Judah is sick, and Isaiah the prophet tells him that he’s about to die.  Hezekiah then prays to live, appealing to the perfection of his own heart as he speaks to God.  Isaiah puts figs on Hezekiah’s boil, and Hezekiah recovers.  Isaiah promises in the name of the LORD that Hezekiah will go to the house of God on the third day, and will live for fifteen more years.   Hezekiah asks for a sign that this will happen, and God responds by reversing the course of the sun. 

(Here, we may see different sources about Hezekiah’s recovery.  After all, why would Hezekiah request a sign that he’d be healed, after Isaiah has already healed him with figs?  On the other hand, maybe his recovery took a couple of days, and Hezekiah sought a sign during his convalescence that the fig-treatment would work.)

Having heard that Hezekiah was sick, King Merodach-Baladan of Babylon sent a gift to Hezekiah via messengers, and Hezekiah showed them all the treasures of his kingdom.  When Isaiah hears about this, he prophesies that the treasures and the sons of Hezekiah will be carried away into Babylon.  Hezekiah is happy, however, that the destruction and exile won’t occur while he is alive!

Here are some issues that I encountered in my study:

1.  Chronology.  Merodach-baladan ruled Babylon in two time periods: in 722-710 B.C.E., and in 704-703 B.C.E., times when Babylon could be independent from Assyria.  King Sennacherib of Assyria invaded Jerusalem in 701 B.C.E.  What’s the problem?  In II Kings 20:6, God promises to deliver Jerusalem from the hand of the King of Assyria, and this prophecy is made when Hezekiah is sick.  If this prophecy is made in 701 B.C.E., which is when Sennacherib is invading Jerusalem, then how can King Merodach-baladan send messengers to Hezekiah after Hezekiah is sick?  Merodach-baladan’s rule ended a few years before 701 B.C.E.! 

The Book of Chronicles compounds the problem, for, in II Chronicles 32, we see (if I’m reading the chapter correctly) the following order of events: God delivers Jerusalem from Sennacherib, people bring gifts to Jerusalem, Hezekiah gets sick and recovers, and Merodach-baladan sends messengers to Hezekiah.  Again, we have the problem of King Merodach-Baladan of Babylon sending messengers to Hezekiah a few years after the end of his reign!

I wonder, though, how scholars arrive at these dates, and if the Bible should be an item of evidence as to when certain events occurred—not the only item of evidence, mind you, but one piece of evidence among others.  If the Bible’s dating is contradicted by so many sources, then maybe the biblical account is getting its facts mixed up.  But I still wonder how scholars arrive at the dates that they do.

Or perhaps the Assyrian threat loomed large over Judah and Jerusalem before 701 B.C.E.  That wouldn’t solve II Chronicles 32′s chronological problems, but it would iron out the difficulty in II Kings 20: when Hezekiah was sick, God promised that Jerusalem wouldn’t have to worry about the Assyrians anymore.  Sure, in this scenario, the Assyrians hadn’t yet invaded during Hezekiah’s illness, but they were still a looming threat.

2.  Was Hezekiah about to die childless?  E.W. Bullinger says “yes”, affirming that all the talk about the blessing of children in Psalms 127-128 and 132 was Hezekiah hoping he could live so he could produce offspring.  II Kings 20:8 refers to sons who will go out from Hezekiah, which may imply that Hezekiah hasn’t had kids yet.  And II Kings 21:1 says that Hezekiah’s son, Manasseh, began to reign at age twelve.  That means that Manasseh was born three years after Hezekiah’s illness, for God gave Hezekiah fifteen more years of life after Hezekiah was sick.

What’s odd is this: God promised David in II Samuel 7 that a Davidid would always rule over Israel.  Was God about to bring the Davidic line to an end by allowing Hezekiah to die—since Isaiah told Hezekiah in God’s name that he would die, and not live, before Hezekiah prayed and received a lease on life?  Maybe God wanted Hezekiah to pray to God and to appeal to God’s promise to David in order to live. 

3.  Hezekiah appears to be proud when he asks God in II Kings 20:8 to heal him on account of his (Hezekiah’s) perfection of heart.  But Hezekiah still acknowledges that he is a sinner, for, in Isaiah 38:17, Hezekiah says that God has cast his (Hezekiah’s) sins behind God’s back.  Perfection in the Old Testament may not have meant sinlessness, but rather seeking to obey God.

4.  After hearing about the future exile and devastation of Judah and Jerusalem at the hands of Babylon, Hezekiah rejoices that at least he won’t experience all that!  Many preachers and commentators castigate Hezekiah for being selfish, and they may be right.  But John Gray offers an alternative view, comparing Hezekiah to Arabs who praise the name of Allah even when they hear bad news, and who try to end things on an auspicious note.  Was Hezekiah selfish, or was he trying to look on the bright side?

II Kings 19

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 19.  King Sennacherib of Assyria is seeking to conquer Jerusalem, and Hezekiah prays to the LORD.  In answer to Hezekiah’s prayer, God (through an angel) kills off the Assyrian army.  Later, Sennacherib is assassinated by two of his sons, who flee to Ararat.  Esarhaddon then succeeds Sennacherib as king of Assyria.

There are many historical issues in this chapter.  V 9 is challenging, for it states that Tirhakah, the king of Cush, has attacked Sennacherib, leading the Assyrian king away from Jerusalem.  (Sennacherib leaves many troops in the proximity of Jerusalem, however).  The problem is that Tirkahah wasn’t king until 690 B.C.E., which is after the events of II Kings 19.  Virtually all modern commentators, conservative and liberal, acknowledge this as a problem.  Liberals tend to view v 9 as an example of anachronism.  Conservatives have contended that v 9 calls Tirhakah a king because that’s what he later became, and the audience of II Kings 19 knew him as such.  

Sennacherib’s account does not mention that Sennacherib actually took Jerusalem, which may be evidence that he did not do so, as the Bible says.  Then there’s the interesting story in the History of Herodotus (Book II, 141), the fifth century B.C.E. Greek historian, who narrates that, when Sennacherib was trying to attack Egypt, mice came and ate up the military equipment of his army.  According to Herodotus, that’s why there’s a statue of a king in the Temple of Hephaistos, holding up a mouse and urging people to fear the gods!  In Greek legends, mice carried pestilence.  Is Herodotus confirming the story of the Bible?  Mordecai Cogan thinks not.  For Cogan, Herodotus is botching things up by attributing to Sennacherib’s time an incident that occurred under his successor, Esarhaddon, as well as drawing from a mixed-up version of the biblical story.

Who killed Sennacherib?  Cogan refers to evidence that the assassination was committed by Sennacherib’s son, Arad-ninlil.  Could the names of the assassins in the biblical account be botched up?  Moreover, according to Assyrian sources, there were brothers of Esarhaddon who challenged his accession, and Esarhaddon tries to get his hands on Assyrian refugees who fled to Ararat.  Does this confirm the biblical story that two brothers of Esarhaddon attempted to take the throne and fled to Ararat?

Those are some of the historical issues.  But what got my attention was how preachers said that II Kings 19 teaches us to look to God, not to therapists.  Chuck Smith, for example, says that he feels helpless when people tell him about their problems, for he can’t do anything about them.  God, however, can.  There are many times when such is the case.  But therapists can give us insights as to how to cope or deal with our problems.  And yet, we may need divine intervention!  As a person with bills, I identified with a sermon I heard, in which a preacher talked about spreading our bills out before God, as Hezekiah spread before God the taunting letter of Assyria.  Personally, I need encouragement and advice so I can see productive ways that I can handle situations; but I also need God to help me out.  Where my role ends, and God’s begins, can be pretty murky.  But I feel that I have a role, and so does God.

Chuck Smith made another interesting point.  In Isaiah 33:14, the sinners of Zion wonder how they can dwell in the midst of everlasting flames.  According to Smith, they are saying this after God’s angel has slaughtered the Assyrian army.  His reason for this interpretation may be that Isaiah 33 refers to God’s defeat of nations and salvation of Zion, which fits the story of God’s deliverance of Jerusalem from the hands of Sennacherib.  Seeing God’s wrath on others scares the sinners of Zion.  But the prophet tells them that they can survive the everlasting flames if they do righteousness and hate oppression, bribery, and bloodshed.  I’m not big on fear religion, but I can see its place, especially since there are people in the world who like to hurt others.

II Kings 18

For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 18.  In this chapter, King Hezekiah of Judah inaugurates religious reforms that the Deuteronomist applauds, and so God prospers Hezekiah, who rebels against the Assyrians and smites the Philistines (thereby depriving the Assyrians of their trade-routes with Egypt, and perhaps also paying the Philistines back for their aggression against Judah during the reign of Hezekiah’s father, Ahaz; see II Chronicles 28:18).

Sennacherib, the King of Assyria, then captures several Judahite cities, and so Hezekiah apologizes for his rebellion and tries to appease Sennacherib by offering tribute.  Sennacherib accepts the tribute, but he continues his hostilities: his design is to take the city of Jerusalem. 

Sennacherib sends the Rabshakah and two other lackies (along with a great host) to intimidate Jerusalem.  The Rabshakeh attempts to discourage the inhabitants of Jerusalem from trusting in God for deliverance.

There are three things that this story brings to my mind:

1.  II Kings 18 differs from II Chronicles 32, which contrasts with Isaiah.  In II Kings 18, Hezekiah is scared.  He tries to appease the Assyrians to make them go away.  When he hears about the Rabshakeh’s taunts, he goes before God in desperate prayer.  In II Chronicles 32, however, he appears to be calmer and more collected.  He takes practical steps to defend Jerusalem, and he encourages the men of the city that God is with them.  And yet, Isaiah criticizes Hezekiah’s practical measures, as if they’re indicative of his lack of faith in God (Isaiah 22).

I’m not sure if the facts of these stories are contradictory, though there are scholars who will say that such is the case.  Maybe Hezekiah became calmer and more collected after he prayed to God and received assurance.  And yet, there was still a deep fear inside of him, which was why he took practical measures to defend the city.  But do II Chronicles 32 and Isaiah 22 contradict each other?  Although II Chronicles 32 appears to be positive in its portrayal of Hezekiah, it’s interesting that Hezekiah in the Chronicler’s telling didn’t actually get to use the army that he was amassing against Sennacherib, for God took care of the problem himself: God sent an angel to slaughter Sennacherib’s army.  Were Hezekiah’s practical defensive measures all for naught?

Personally-speaking, I wonder when I should act, and when I should let God take care of my problems.  The wisdom literature of the Bible (e.g., Proverbs) calls for practical actions that can produce good results.  But can we get to the point where we idolize our plans, as if they’re what’s taking care of us (Deuteronomy 8:10-18; James 4:13ff)?

2.  The Deuteronomist’s message is that righteous-living results in divine reward.  But it doesn’t always turn out that way, even in his narrative.  In II Kings 18, for example, Hezekiah obeys God, and so God grants him military success.  And yet, that military success precedes an onslaught by the Assyrians, which undoes Hezekiah’s gains.  According to the Intervarsity Press Bible Background Commentary, an evangelical source, Sennacherib “was able to establish pro-Assyrian governors in Philistia.”  And so Hezekiah succeeds, only to fail.

Can we look at our lives and dogmatically say what God is doing?  I won’t rule out the possibility.  But, when I look at II Kings 18, it seems to me that the Deuteronomist is trying to fit the messiness of real life into his neat paradigm of divine reward and punishment.  For the Deuteronomist, the righteous prosper because they’re rewarded by God.  In real life, that doesn’t always happen.  And real life manages to shine through the Deuteronomist’s narrative!

And yet, who won in the end?  Assyria made some gains, but it failed to take Jerusalem, the capital of Judah.  And Judah outlasted the Assyrians, who were conquered by the Babylonians.  Is military success the primary sign of God’s presence with a people?  Maybe God used that success to prolong Judah’s survival and strike some blows at Assyria.  God had larger goals in mind than Judah’s military success.  He wanted her to survive so she could bring glory to him.  She could survive as a strong power, but her survival as a weak power would ensure her continued dependance on God.

I’m reminded of something I saw in the movie Dead Poets’ Society this week.  Robin Williams plays Mr. Keating, a charismatic teacher at an elite school for boys.  Mr. Keating teaches poetry, and he tells his class that some of them may wonder why they need to study that particular subject, when they plan to go into business.  Mr. Keating says that business will help them survive, but poetry will give them a reason for their survival.  After all, if you make a bunch of money and achieve a comfortable existence, what do you do then?  For Mr. Keating, one thing you can do is find inspiration and wisdom in the great poets.

Similarly, Judah with God’s help survived, but what was the reason for her survival?  To enjoy God, to bring glory to him, and to be his instrument.  Kingdoms would rise and fall—including the Kingdom of Judah.  But her existence and her mission would still remain.

3.  In the sermons I heard about II Kings 18, preachers talked about the tendency of non-believers to get Christianity wrong.  Nero, for example, said that Christians were cannibals, for he misunderstood the Eucharist.  Jon Courson talked about a book that said the Bible is wrong to say that Eve ate an apple, for apples don’t grow in the alleged location of Eden.  But, as Jon pointed out, the Bible doesn’t say that the fruit Eve ate was an apple.

In II Kings 18, the Rabshakeh gets something wrong.  He says that God won’t protect the Israelites because Hezekiah has removed God’s high places.  The Rabshakeh assumes that God was pleased with those high places, as if they existed for God’s glory!  But the irony is that God actually wanted those high places to be destroyed.

And yet, the Rabshakeh may get something right.  V 34 is puzzling because, in it, the Rabshakeh lists the names of Syrian cities that Assyria has conquered, and asks if their gods delivered Northern Israel.  But why would the gods of Syria deliver Northern Israel?  They weren’t the gods of Northern Israel!  The proposal of the Jewish commentator Rashi is that the Northern Israelites worshipped Syrian gods.  The Rabshakeh knew something about Northern Israel’s idolatry.

Anne Rice said something on Frontline recently that intrigued me.  She was showing her interviewer her collection of religious works—the Bible, the Talmud, etc.  The interviewer said, “So when you talk about religion, you must know what you’re talking about.”  Anne Rice replied, “I know what I’m talking about.  I’m sure there are people who’d say I don’t know what they’re talking about.”       

I found that to be a humble statement.  She can only speak for herself.  Whether she’s right about what others are saying, however, is uncertain—as is the case with many of us.

Could she have organized Christianity wrong?  I have a hard time saying that she does.  She is observing fruits in Christianity that she deems intolerant, and she does not want to be a part of that.  There has to come some point where we say that something is wrong because it hurts others, right?  Hitler may have had personal reasons for doing what he did, and he probably thought he was doing the right thing; but he was wrong.

So, in my opinion, there’s a place for listening to people’s stories to understand where they’re coming from.  But there’s also a place for us to look at the effects of certain things, and to determine for ourselves if we deem them to be helpful or hurtful. 

Then there’s the possibility that the people of a community aren’t living up to their standards (or at least their standards of benevolence to others) and may have corrupted a good thing.  We see that in this chapter, as Hezekiah destroys the Nehushtan, which Moses erected in Numbers 21 to be a source of healing for Israelites; essentially, Israelites since that time worshipped the Nehushtan to get healing, and that displeased God.  And we see that sort of thing in organized religion today.