Today was a very hot day, with the Heat Index here in NC reaching 110 or better. I was out in it most of the day.
At 7:30 a.m., I left for Wake Forest to form a flagline in honor of World War II Veteran James E. Steffens. There were more than 20 PGR members there and we lined to road to the service on both sides. The family was gratified.
I ate lunch at the Olive Garden in Wake Forest, then visited Barnes and Noble until time to leave for the second service of the day.
World War II veteran Richard Kantzler's funeral was held at the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Goldsboro. There were about 10 PGR members there. Once again, the family was gratified.
"Jammer" Bill served as Ride Captain for both events. He did a superlative job. He is conscientious, considerate, and makes everyone feel good about what is going on. I always enjoy working with him.
I ate dinner at Bojangles on Best Road in Goldsboro: a place to avoid.
Got home late. The Triumph functioned perfectly. An excellent bike for the freeway, just as I had hoped.
The heat was punishing, but I wore my Veskimo cooling vest. It did a great job. Every time I started getting overly hot, I turned it on and it circulated cold air under my shirt. It is going to make standing on the flagline a lot less unpleasant this summer.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Yes, it's okay to make jokes about Osama bin Laden
Terrorists want to terrorize. They want us to be quivering in fear, or so full of rage that we no longer think clearly. One way to aid the creation of that view is to treat them with more respect and solemnity than they're due.
Making jokes about OBL is a way of showing that we DO NOT respect murderous thugs. That we do not cower in the corner in fear of them. That we will not accord them the honor of taking their ideas and claims seriously.
OBL was not a martyr for a cause. He was a self-aggrandizing creep who boasted about killing people, many of them members of the very group he claimed to be acting in favor of. Think of how much good he might have done had he turned his obvious talents to actually helping people. Think of how much good could have been done with all the money that has had to be spent to repair the damage he did just to inflate his own ego.
Yes, he had to be taken seriously as a danger. But, no, he did not deserve to be treated with respect. He did not earn respect. He earned the contempt of any person who truly cares about the lives of human beings.
I am not going to run outside and wave flags because he is dead. But, equally, I am not going to hesitate to express my contempt for him. Please note: contempt, not hatred. I hate what he did, but I do not hate him: he doesn't deserve hatred. But he does deserve contempt. And making him the butt of sophomoric jokes is one way to demonstrate that.
Making jokes about OBL is a way of showing that we DO NOT respect murderous thugs. That we do not cower in the corner in fear of them. That we will not accord them the honor of taking their ideas and claims seriously.
OBL was not a martyr for a cause. He was a self-aggrandizing creep who boasted about killing people, many of them members of the very group he claimed to be acting in favor of. Think of how much good he might have done had he turned his obvious talents to actually helping people. Think of how much good could have been done with all the money that has had to be spent to repair the damage he did just to inflate his own ego.
Yes, he had to be taken seriously as a danger. But, no, he did not deserve to be treated with respect. He did not earn respect. He earned the contempt of any person who truly cares about the lives of human beings.
I am not going to run outside and wave flags because he is dead. But, equally, I am not going to hesitate to express my contempt for him. Please note: contempt, not hatred. I hate what he did, but I do not hate him: he doesn't deserve hatred. But he does deserve contempt. And making him the butt of sophomoric jokes is one way to demonstrate that.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Light
Of all the elementary particles, the photon, the quantum unit of light, is the only one detectable with the ordinary senses. One photon, the smallest amount of light possible, is visible to the naked eye.
Jesus said, "You are the light of the world." (Matthew 5:14) It is our job to be light, to drive out darkness. Everything we do that adds to the light of the world helps to make it brighter, no matter how small the action.
Jesus said, "You are the light of the world." (Matthew 5:14) It is our job to be light, to drive out darkness. Everything we do that adds to the light of the world helps to make it brighter, no matter how small the action.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Faith and Works
From the beginning, Christians have been troubled by the question, “Which is more important: faith or works?” If you do good works, but have no faith, will that save you? Or if you believe in the Gospel, but do nothing to demonstrate your faith in action, will you be saved?
James asks, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith, but has no deeds? Can such a faith save them?” (James 2: 14) He then gives the example of going up to a poor person without decent clothes or food and saying, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed.” What good do those good wishes do, if the person saying them does nothing to help? (v 16) But Paul says of Abraham's faith, “For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace. . .” (Romans 4: 16), and further that we are justified by faith. (Romans 5: 1) It sounds like these passages are contradicting each other.
But it is important to realize that faith, as Paul sees it, is not a passive mental activity only. Faith, for Paul, is an active virtue, like courage or prudence. It is not something that we just feel, it is something that causes us to act. Saying or thinking we believe in the promise of salvation means nothing to Paul, because it costs nothing; it is just a form of words. For faith to be a virtue, it must move us to action. Because we have faith in Christ, His death and resurrection and His promises, we act in a different way, we think a different way, we become a different person.
Mental assent to the Gospel is a necessary but not a sufficient step. We must start out by accepting the Gospel as true: that Jesus is in fact the Son of God, that He was crucified, and that He rose from the dead. We must also accept that these facts permit us to change our relationship to God, to become a child of God, as Jesus is. We must mentally assent to these propositions, as we do to the axioms of Euclid in plain geometry. As a student cannot make any progress in understanding geometry until he understands and accepts the axioms as true, so a potential Christian cannot reach the Gospel message and promise until he accepts the truth of Christ's death and resurrection.
But a student who accepts the axioms as true and then does nothing with them will not learn geometry. Only when the student begins to use the axioms to construct proofs does he begin to understand their deep truth and value. Only then does that student begin to be a geometer.
So it is with the Gospel. We cannot begin to become Christians until we accept as true the basic facts of Jesus's death and resurrection. But that is not enough; as James says, “Even the demons believe that—and shudder.” (James 2: 19b) Only when the believer begins to try to work out in his own life what the implications of the Gospel are, and begins trying to make those implications real in his life, does he become a Christian. If you believe that Jesus was a holy man who live a long time ago and said some interesting things, you will not be saved. If you believe that Jesus was a holy man who called people to repentance for their evil ways, and was killed for it, you will not be saved. Even if you believe that Jesus rose from the dead, you may not be saved. It is when you begin to see that Jesus's rising from the dead has changed the whole relationship between human beings and God, and that change puts imperative requirements on you, that you are saved.
God has shown, over and over in both the Old and New Testaments, that He is willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. His grace constantly overflows; David, the murderous adulterer, is forgiven. Peter, the coward at the most important moment in the Gospel story, is forgiven. Thomas the doubter is forgiven. Paul, the merciless persecutor is forgiven. And He, who looks at all His creation with love, will forgive those who give only mental assent to Christ. But He will not be satisfied with that. He demands that mental assent become action. For He does not save us as minds or spirits only.
As Presbyterians, we frequently say the Apostle's Creed, and blithely end it with, “I believe in . . . the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” But if we really believe that (not just mentally assent to it as a proposition of faith), it must inevitably make a radical difference in our conduct. A person who will live forever in a physical body must have a very different outlook on life from a person who believes he will live eighty years or so and disappear forever, or even from a person who believes his soul may live on, but in another body with another identity.
God has eternity to work on us. One of the insights in mathematics is that half of infinity is still infinity, and a millionth of infinity is still infinity—even the smallest fraction of infinity is still infinite. God will use infinity to lead us from purely mental assent to a real change in the kind of person we are, if we will let Him. Or we can insist on saying no forever. Purely mental assent is enough at the beginning. But it will not be enough at the end.
Paul says, “If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” (I Corinthians 13: 3) Rational assent to God's power, and a rational calculation that if we make sacrifices for others we are pleasing God, will not save us. God is not taken in by the Cartesian bargain. As Jesus said, "Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.” (Matthew 6: 2) God is not satisfied by rational calculation only. Either we believe and have faith, and that faith forces us to change the way we treat our fellow human beings, or we are trying to fool God.
We are saved by our faith. Our faith forces us to see our fellow human beings in a different way, as beloved children of God, just as we are. That insight forces us to treat others differently. That way of looking at God's children causes us to do God's work, not because we are trying to bribe God, but because we really care about others, as God cares about them. So our faith is proved by our works, both in the modern sense of “providing convincing arguments for, (Euclidean proof)” and in the older sense of “testing the truth of (proving ground).” We believe, and we care—and God, who sees all as it really is, but cares for all as they try to be, takes all we try for, and makes us His children.
James asks, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith, but has no deeds? Can such a faith save them?” (James 2: 14) He then gives the example of going up to a poor person without decent clothes or food and saying, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed.” What good do those good wishes do, if the person saying them does nothing to help? (v 16) But Paul says of Abraham's faith, “For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace. . .” (Romans 4: 16), and further that we are justified by faith. (Romans 5: 1) It sounds like these passages are contradicting each other.
But it is important to realize that faith, as Paul sees it, is not a passive mental activity only. Faith, for Paul, is an active virtue, like courage or prudence. It is not something that we just feel, it is something that causes us to act. Saying or thinking we believe in the promise of salvation means nothing to Paul, because it costs nothing; it is just a form of words. For faith to be a virtue, it must move us to action. Because we have faith in Christ, His death and resurrection and His promises, we act in a different way, we think a different way, we become a different person.
Mental assent to the Gospel is a necessary but not a sufficient step. We must start out by accepting the Gospel as true: that Jesus is in fact the Son of God, that He was crucified, and that He rose from the dead. We must also accept that these facts permit us to change our relationship to God, to become a child of God, as Jesus is. We must mentally assent to these propositions, as we do to the axioms of Euclid in plain geometry. As a student cannot make any progress in understanding geometry until he understands and accepts the axioms as true, so a potential Christian cannot reach the Gospel message and promise until he accepts the truth of Christ's death and resurrection.
But a student who accepts the axioms as true and then does nothing with them will not learn geometry. Only when the student begins to use the axioms to construct proofs does he begin to understand their deep truth and value. Only then does that student begin to be a geometer.
So it is with the Gospel. We cannot begin to become Christians until we accept as true the basic facts of Jesus's death and resurrection. But that is not enough; as James says, “Even the demons believe that—and shudder.” (James 2: 19b) Only when the believer begins to try to work out in his own life what the implications of the Gospel are, and begins trying to make those implications real in his life, does he become a Christian. If you believe that Jesus was a holy man who live a long time ago and said some interesting things, you will not be saved. If you believe that Jesus was a holy man who called people to repentance for their evil ways, and was killed for it, you will not be saved. Even if you believe that Jesus rose from the dead, you may not be saved. It is when you begin to see that Jesus's rising from the dead has changed the whole relationship between human beings and God, and that change puts imperative requirements on you, that you are saved.
God has shown, over and over in both the Old and New Testaments, that He is willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. His grace constantly overflows; David, the murderous adulterer, is forgiven. Peter, the coward at the most important moment in the Gospel story, is forgiven. Thomas the doubter is forgiven. Paul, the merciless persecutor is forgiven. And He, who looks at all His creation with love, will forgive those who give only mental assent to Christ. But He will not be satisfied with that. He demands that mental assent become action. For He does not save us as minds or spirits only.
As Presbyterians, we frequently say the Apostle's Creed, and blithely end it with, “I believe in . . . the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” But if we really believe that (not just mentally assent to it as a proposition of faith), it must inevitably make a radical difference in our conduct. A person who will live forever in a physical body must have a very different outlook on life from a person who believes he will live eighty years or so and disappear forever, or even from a person who believes his soul may live on, but in another body with another identity.
God has eternity to work on us. One of the insights in mathematics is that half of infinity is still infinity, and a millionth of infinity is still infinity—even the smallest fraction of infinity is still infinite. God will use infinity to lead us from purely mental assent to a real change in the kind of person we are, if we will let Him. Or we can insist on saying no forever. Purely mental assent is enough at the beginning. But it will not be enough at the end.
Paul says, “If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” (I Corinthians 13: 3) Rational assent to God's power, and a rational calculation that if we make sacrifices for others we are pleasing God, will not save us. God is not taken in by the Cartesian bargain. As Jesus said, "Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.” (Matthew 6: 2) God is not satisfied by rational calculation only. Either we believe and have faith, and that faith forces us to change the way we treat our fellow human beings, or we are trying to fool God.
We are saved by our faith. Our faith forces us to see our fellow human beings in a different way, as beloved children of God, just as we are. That insight forces us to treat others differently. That way of looking at God's children causes us to do God's work, not because we are trying to bribe God, but because we really care about others, as God cares about them. So our faith is proved by our works, both in the modern sense of “providing convincing arguments for, (Euclidean proof)” and in the older sense of “testing the truth of (proving ground).” We believe, and we care—and God, who sees all as it really is, but cares for all as they try to be, takes all we try for, and makes us His children.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Evolution of the Understanding of God in the Old Testament
The Old Testament (OT) is humanity's early record of its relationship with God. As such, it traces humanity's changing understanding of the nature of God as revealed in God's actions and revelations to the Jewish people. In dealing with it, modern Christians need to keep in mind several truths.
First, God holds to His purpose. From the very beginning, God has intended to have a relationship with humanity. God created the universe in order to give human beings a place to live so that we could have that relationship with God. God made the universe in a way that would not only permit, but encourage our developing a relationship. But God did not, and does not, force this relationship; it is voluntary on the part of men and women. We can freely choose God, who has already chosen us. As the OT picture of God and God's nature evolves, we must keep firmly in mind that it is not God who is changing.
Therefore, it is humanity, and more especially the writers of the OT, who are changing. It is a reality that, as human beings experience more, their intellect becomes capable of more. In our own lifetimes, we have seen it. Before cell phones and texting were invented, we could not imagine being in constant contact with others. Now we stand in the aisle of a supermarket and text to our spouse, “What was that brand of crackers we liked so much at the party last week?” and think nothing of a phenomenon that our ancestors would have regarded as miraculous. It has gone from impossible, to remarkable, to ordinary in less than a generation.
So with the writers of the OT. To understand their conception of God, we must remember they were working in a far more limited world that we do. They were intelligent, capable, and worldly wise in terms of their own world. But their world was far more limited than ours. It was more limited than the world of the New Testament. The earlier writers of the Pentateuch lived in a more limited world than the later prophets. In the earliest writers' world, a god presided over a small area, or a small group of people. Gods were demanding, irrational, and vengeful. Our modern view of the pantheons of ancient civilizations is based on looking at them from the vantage of later analysis. The appearance of an organized, systematic Egyptian theology, for instance, is an artifact of later scholarship. At the time of the Israelite captivity, the Amun of Thebes, for instance, was a very limited deity whose primacy (when combined with Rā) in the Egyptian pantheon only arose after the time of the Exodus. Amun was the chief god of Thebes, Ptah of Memphis, Bastet of Bubastis, and so on. The importance of each god rose or fell with the importance of its city. Similarly, in Palestine, there was not a Baal, but many baals, each protecting a particular locality.
From the beginning, then, God spoke to humans, and they interpreted what was said in terms of their own worldview. So when JHWH told Abraham, “. . . in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed,” (Genesis 12: 3b) the early Israelites interpreted it in terms of their own worldly situation: they would rule over other people and gods in a political hegemony. Only later, when it was clear that Israel would not be a great world power, did such writers as Third Isaiah come to see that the commitment of God was to humanity, not just to the people of Israel, who was to be the exemplar, not the conqueror: “Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” (Isaiah 60: 3)
So the OT is a gradual revelation of the comprehensiveness of God's plan for humanity as its writers slowly, generation by generation, came to perceive and understand the plan. As the writers learn to think in wider and more comprehensive terms, God continues to reassure them that they are not forgotten, that all previous commitments on God's part are still in force: “Remember these things, O Jacob,/and Israel, for you are my servant:/I formed you, you are my servant;/O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me.” (Isaiah 44: 21) From a purely tribal deity, the Israelites begin to grasp God's universality. Ezekiel's vision of God' awe-inspiring chariot-throne, capable of moving irresistibly in every direction (Ezekiel 1) reveals a conception of God that would probably not be comprehensible to the people of the time of Judges. In all of this it is important to remember that it is not God who has changed, it is the understanding of the people writing about God that has changed.
Second, God is active. He is not an unmoved mover, or a cosmic watchmaker who once wound the world up and has stepped back to let it run down. As pointed out in Crossley, the God revealed in the OT is distinguished by action: “. . . God creates, makes and keeps promises, rescues, commands, and leads.” (Ronald C. Crossley. The Christian Bible, Part One: A Theological Introduction to the Old Testamant, (Unpublished Manuscript, 2010) 211) This analysis captures one of the chief differences between the Judeo-Christian view of God and the views of the Platonists, a group of theological and philosophical thinkers active at approximately the same period of history. The Platonist Theory of Forms posits a series of archetypes, arising from the most important and basic of the forms, the Form of Good. An essential feature of these forms was that they were permanent and unchanging. They do not act, they are. This does not assume that the ancient authors of the OT were aware of the Platonists, or of the Eleatic or Milesian philosophers that preceded them. It only contrast contemporaneous ideas.
Third, God suffers. God does not take pleasure in the problems of the Jewish people. Although God keeps His promises even when they bring suffering, He takes no delight in it. The words may seem angry as he reveals the inevitable result of the choices the Jewish people and rulers made, there is a continuing tone of regret: “O my people, what have I done to you?/In what have I wearied you? Answer me!” (Micah 6: 3) Though punishment follows disobedience and failure to keep the Covenant, God continues to look for the best. Over and over again, God holds back the full evil effects of disobedience. He rescues and restores. He heals and repairs. So despite the turmoil of the times in which they lived, the Jews, a small and not very numerous people were preserved, when many larger and more powerful nations totally disappeared. God does not do these things without cost to Himself. The pain of disobedience and its consequences are eternally before God. He knows, as the Judean kings tried to play power politics in an arena where they were vastly outmatched, what will come of their efforts, and He does not want those evils to come about. Like a parent watching a beloved child waste opportunities and suffer the consequences of stupid choices, God watches Israel constantly trying to do things without Him. He sees their suffering, and suffers with them. Eventually, He steps into the human arena as a human being, suffers as a human being from the injustice and cruelty of human institutions, dies a human death, and provides, through His resurrection, a path by which other human beings may find salvation.
Fourth, God cares about individuals. As Crossley says, “God opposes human oppression even when nations employ legal means.” (220) Even the Chosen People are not free to oppress others; not other Jews, not non-Jews, not animals, not even the land. In all His provisions, God demands justice and compassion:
Your new moons and your appointed festivals
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me,
I am weary of bearing them.
. . .
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your doings
from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,
learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow. (Isaiah 1: 14, 16-17)
So God makes clear that it is not the abstract nation He cares about, but the real and suffering people of that nation.
Finally, God is sovereign. God has made the universe to fulfill His design. The laws of the universe are God's laws. As Jeremiah says in 18: 1-4, God is like a potter, in that He molds the clay in accordance to His will. The clay will conform to the will of the potter, or it will be reworked until it does. From the beginning, God has demonstrated a willingness to step into the universe and make it come out the way He has determined it will come out. His last stepping in, foreshadowed in the OT, was the appearance of Jesus; it is the most complete appearance of God on the stage of the world. It made it possible for all humanity to reach the goal God had intended and foreseen from the first. In accepting the limitations of humanity, and the humiliation of execution and death, God most decisively demonstrates His sovereignty, for only the truly sovereign can lay down their power and pick it up again as they choose.
As Crossley points out, the OT does not present systematic theology (CB 211). In part, this results from its incompleteness. But to say that the presentation of God in the OT is not systematic is not to say that it has no system. Only when the OT witness to the nature of God is completed by the NT can a more nearly complete picture of God's nature be found. The history, poetry, literature, and prophecy of the OT is not a random collection of ancient scraps. By the providential will of God, these things have been preserved and handed down to us. It's picture of YHWH is not simple, at least in part because God is not simple, any more than the twenty-third Psalm is a simple description of pastoral life. It is up to each of us to look for the God that is always looking at us, to take the hand that is always being held out for us, and to really listen to the voice that is always speaking to us.
All Bible quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version.
First, God holds to His purpose. From the very beginning, God has intended to have a relationship with humanity. God created the universe in order to give human beings a place to live so that we could have that relationship with God. God made the universe in a way that would not only permit, but encourage our developing a relationship. But God did not, and does not, force this relationship; it is voluntary on the part of men and women. We can freely choose God, who has already chosen us. As the OT picture of God and God's nature evolves, we must keep firmly in mind that it is not God who is changing.
Therefore, it is humanity, and more especially the writers of the OT, who are changing. It is a reality that, as human beings experience more, their intellect becomes capable of more. In our own lifetimes, we have seen it. Before cell phones and texting were invented, we could not imagine being in constant contact with others. Now we stand in the aisle of a supermarket and text to our spouse, “What was that brand of crackers we liked so much at the party last week?” and think nothing of a phenomenon that our ancestors would have regarded as miraculous. It has gone from impossible, to remarkable, to ordinary in less than a generation.
So with the writers of the OT. To understand their conception of God, we must remember they were working in a far more limited world that we do. They were intelligent, capable, and worldly wise in terms of their own world. But their world was far more limited than ours. It was more limited than the world of the New Testament. The earlier writers of the Pentateuch lived in a more limited world than the later prophets. In the earliest writers' world, a god presided over a small area, or a small group of people. Gods were demanding, irrational, and vengeful. Our modern view of the pantheons of ancient civilizations is based on looking at them from the vantage of later analysis. The appearance of an organized, systematic Egyptian theology, for instance, is an artifact of later scholarship. At the time of the Israelite captivity, the Amun of Thebes, for instance, was a very limited deity whose primacy (when combined with Rā) in the Egyptian pantheon only arose after the time of the Exodus. Amun was the chief god of Thebes, Ptah of Memphis, Bastet of Bubastis, and so on. The importance of each god rose or fell with the importance of its city. Similarly, in Palestine, there was not a Baal, but many baals, each protecting a particular locality.
From the beginning, then, God spoke to humans, and they interpreted what was said in terms of their own worldview. So when JHWH told Abraham, “. . . in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed,” (Genesis 12: 3b) the early Israelites interpreted it in terms of their own worldly situation: they would rule over other people and gods in a political hegemony. Only later, when it was clear that Israel would not be a great world power, did such writers as Third Isaiah come to see that the commitment of God was to humanity, not just to the people of Israel, who was to be the exemplar, not the conqueror: “Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” (Isaiah 60: 3)
So the OT is a gradual revelation of the comprehensiveness of God's plan for humanity as its writers slowly, generation by generation, came to perceive and understand the plan. As the writers learn to think in wider and more comprehensive terms, God continues to reassure them that they are not forgotten, that all previous commitments on God's part are still in force: “Remember these things, O Jacob,/and Israel, for you are my servant:/I formed you, you are my servant;/O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me.” (Isaiah 44: 21) From a purely tribal deity, the Israelites begin to grasp God's universality. Ezekiel's vision of God' awe-inspiring chariot-throne, capable of moving irresistibly in every direction (Ezekiel 1) reveals a conception of God that would probably not be comprehensible to the people of the time of Judges. In all of this it is important to remember that it is not God who has changed, it is the understanding of the people writing about God that has changed.
Second, God is active. He is not an unmoved mover, or a cosmic watchmaker who once wound the world up and has stepped back to let it run down. As pointed out in Crossley, the God revealed in the OT is distinguished by action: “. . . God creates, makes and keeps promises, rescues, commands, and leads.” (Ronald C. Crossley. The Christian Bible, Part One: A Theological Introduction to the Old Testamant, (Unpublished Manuscript, 2010) 211) This analysis captures one of the chief differences between the Judeo-Christian view of God and the views of the Platonists, a group of theological and philosophical thinkers active at approximately the same period of history. The Platonist Theory of Forms posits a series of archetypes, arising from the most important and basic of the forms, the Form of Good. An essential feature of these forms was that they were permanent and unchanging. They do not act, they are. This does not assume that the ancient authors of the OT were aware of the Platonists, or of the Eleatic or Milesian philosophers that preceded them. It only contrast contemporaneous ideas.
Third, God suffers. God does not take pleasure in the problems of the Jewish people. Although God keeps His promises even when they bring suffering, He takes no delight in it. The words may seem angry as he reveals the inevitable result of the choices the Jewish people and rulers made, there is a continuing tone of regret: “O my people, what have I done to you?/In what have I wearied you? Answer me!” (Micah 6: 3) Though punishment follows disobedience and failure to keep the Covenant, God continues to look for the best. Over and over again, God holds back the full evil effects of disobedience. He rescues and restores. He heals and repairs. So despite the turmoil of the times in which they lived, the Jews, a small and not very numerous people were preserved, when many larger and more powerful nations totally disappeared. God does not do these things without cost to Himself. The pain of disobedience and its consequences are eternally before God. He knows, as the Judean kings tried to play power politics in an arena where they were vastly outmatched, what will come of their efforts, and He does not want those evils to come about. Like a parent watching a beloved child waste opportunities and suffer the consequences of stupid choices, God watches Israel constantly trying to do things without Him. He sees their suffering, and suffers with them. Eventually, He steps into the human arena as a human being, suffers as a human being from the injustice and cruelty of human institutions, dies a human death, and provides, through His resurrection, a path by which other human beings may find salvation.
Fourth, God cares about individuals. As Crossley says, “God opposes human oppression even when nations employ legal means.” (220) Even the Chosen People are not free to oppress others; not other Jews, not non-Jews, not animals, not even the land. In all His provisions, God demands justice and compassion:
Your new moons and your appointed festivals
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me,
I am weary of bearing them.
. . .
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your doings
from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,
learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow. (Isaiah 1: 14, 16-17)
So God makes clear that it is not the abstract nation He cares about, but the real and suffering people of that nation.
Finally, God is sovereign. God has made the universe to fulfill His design. The laws of the universe are God's laws. As Jeremiah says in 18: 1-4, God is like a potter, in that He molds the clay in accordance to His will. The clay will conform to the will of the potter, or it will be reworked until it does. From the beginning, God has demonstrated a willingness to step into the universe and make it come out the way He has determined it will come out. His last stepping in, foreshadowed in the OT, was the appearance of Jesus; it is the most complete appearance of God on the stage of the world. It made it possible for all humanity to reach the goal God had intended and foreseen from the first. In accepting the limitations of humanity, and the humiliation of execution and death, God most decisively demonstrates His sovereignty, for only the truly sovereign can lay down their power and pick it up again as they choose.
As Crossley points out, the OT does not present systematic theology (CB 211). In part, this results from its incompleteness. But to say that the presentation of God in the OT is not systematic is not to say that it has no system. Only when the OT witness to the nature of God is completed by the NT can a more nearly complete picture of God's nature be found. The history, poetry, literature, and prophecy of the OT is not a random collection of ancient scraps. By the providential will of God, these things have been preserved and handed down to us. It's picture of YHWH is not simple, at least in part because God is not simple, any more than the twenty-third Psalm is a simple description of pastoral life. It is up to each of us to look for the God that is always looking at us, to take the hand that is always being held out for us, and to really listen to the voice that is always speaking to us.
All Bible quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Review: The Ghosts of Cannae
The Ghosts of Cannae: Hannibal and the darkest hour of the Roman Republic, by Robert L. O'Connell, gives a modern interpretation of one of the greatest battles of ancient history. In 216 BC, a Carthaginian army let by Hannibal Barca utterly destroyed a huge Roman army several times its own size. It ended with an appalling slaughter of the Romans that was unequaled in casualties until the modern battles of World War I. It is estimated that between 40,000 and 70,000 soldiers of Rome and its allies were killed by edged weapons in one day of battle.
Yet, although it was a great battle, it was not a decisive one. Carthage and its allies won that battle (and several others), but eventually lost the war. O'Connell tells not only about the battle, but about the series of wars between Rome and Carthage that resulted in the eventual complete destruction of Carthage (the three Punic Wars).
Writing about events that took place more than two thousand years ago has several difficulties. First, the sources from that time that he must rely on are few. The only ancient author who covers the whole period is Livy, who has theatrical tendencies and is overtly pro-Rome. Fragments of a lost work by Polybius cover this period incompletely, but provide a more moderate and perhaps more accurate account, where they are available. Other authors wrote even longer after Livy and Polybius, and can provide only marginal support or confirmation.
Second, the world of the ancients was entirely different from our world in many ways. Not only was their technology less complex, their views of the world were different. Slavery was common and accepted. You knew that if your home city lost a war, you would likely be a slave. Minor cuts and scrapes would result in death in a time without antiseptics, and even without the knowledge of the need for them. The idea of the rule of law was not even thought of.
Third, war was very different. Battles were at short range and deadly, but the deadliness was personal. Soldiers were killed at arms length, by slashing and stabbing. One of the things O'Connell makes clear was the effort and closeness of death in this battle. The Roman army was wiped out, but the Carthaginian army was physically exhausted. Every Carthaginian soldier had to stab or hack to death three Romans with a sword or lance while wearing heavy armor, on a hot day, in only a few hours.
Finally, politics was very different. In the words of Will Cuppy, "Carthage had a government run by rich men and was called an oligarchy. Rome had a government run by rich men and was called a republic." Although the people (often acting as a mob) could not be completely ignored, the actual government of both sides was governed by a web of personal alliances and loyalties among a very small group of men on both sides.
In the end, O'Connell points out two mistakes that made the battle of Cannae a futile victory. First was a basic mistake by Hannibal, one of the few he made in the war. After the battle, the way was open for the Carthaginian army to advance on Rome and threaten the conquest or siege of the great city. Hannibal, calculating rationally on his own power and the size of the city, decided to proceed into southern Italy and try to win over Rome's allies. But O'Connell points out that this was the great chance for the Carthaginians, either to conquer their enemy or to break their will. By turning away, they did neither, and they entered a long, gradual, inevitable decline. They might have lost if they attacked Rome; they were certain to lose if they did not.
The second mistake was cultural. For the Carthaginians, war was an incident which interrupted trade. For the Romans, it was the reason d'etre for the state. Their only goal was victory. If trade suffered, so be it. The Carthaginians failure to understand the implacable nature of their enemy caused it to make mistakes that harmed their cause.
This is a well-written, well-pace book. I highly recommend it to lovers of history. I read it in the Kindle version, and regret the inability to zoom in on the maps. With the hardcover, I would have used a magnifying glass. But the maps are a minor matter. O'Connell writes well, and gives modern readers an excellent insight into the ancient world.
Yet, although it was a great battle, it was not a decisive one. Carthage and its allies won that battle (and several others), but eventually lost the war. O'Connell tells not only about the battle, but about the series of wars between Rome and Carthage that resulted in the eventual complete destruction of Carthage (the three Punic Wars).
Writing about events that took place more than two thousand years ago has several difficulties. First, the sources from that time that he must rely on are few. The only ancient author who covers the whole period is Livy, who has theatrical tendencies and is overtly pro-Rome. Fragments of a lost work by Polybius cover this period incompletely, but provide a more moderate and perhaps more accurate account, where they are available. Other authors wrote even longer after Livy and Polybius, and can provide only marginal support or confirmation.
Second, the world of the ancients was entirely different from our world in many ways. Not only was their technology less complex, their views of the world were different. Slavery was common and accepted. You knew that if your home city lost a war, you would likely be a slave. Minor cuts and scrapes would result in death in a time without antiseptics, and even without the knowledge of the need for them. The idea of the rule of law was not even thought of.
Third, war was very different. Battles were at short range and deadly, but the deadliness was personal. Soldiers were killed at arms length, by slashing and stabbing. One of the things O'Connell makes clear was the effort and closeness of death in this battle. The Roman army was wiped out, but the Carthaginian army was physically exhausted. Every Carthaginian soldier had to stab or hack to death three Romans with a sword or lance while wearing heavy armor, on a hot day, in only a few hours.
Finally, politics was very different. In the words of Will Cuppy, "Carthage had a government run by rich men and was called an oligarchy. Rome had a government run by rich men and was called a republic." Although the people (often acting as a mob) could not be completely ignored, the actual government of both sides was governed by a web of personal alliances and loyalties among a very small group of men on both sides.
In the end, O'Connell points out two mistakes that made the battle of Cannae a futile victory. First was a basic mistake by Hannibal, one of the few he made in the war. After the battle, the way was open for the Carthaginian army to advance on Rome and threaten the conquest or siege of the great city. Hannibal, calculating rationally on his own power and the size of the city, decided to proceed into southern Italy and try to win over Rome's allies. But O'Connell points out that this was the great chance for the Carthaginians, either to conquer their enemy or to break their will. By turning away, they did neither, and they entered a long, gradual, inevitable decline. They might have lost if they attacked Rome; they were certain to lose if they did not.
The second mistake was cultural. For the Carthaginians, war was an incident which interrupted trade. For the Romans, it was the reason d'etre for the state. Their only goal was victory. If trade suffered, so be it. The Carthaginians failure to understand the implacable nature of their enemy caused it to make mistakes that harmed their cause.
This is a well-written, well-pace book. I highly recommend it to lovers of history. I read it in the Kindle version, and regret the inability to zoom in on the maps. With the hardcover, I would have used a magnifying glass. But the maps are a minor matter. O'Connell writes well, and gives modern readers an excellent insight into the ancient world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)