Now, before we continue our chat about the life of David (or Solomon, for that matter), we need to take some time to try and understand the sources that we’re using to unpack this period of history. If you are like me, this is where the story starts to blur and my eyes begin to glaze over. Part of the reason for this is because we are on the cusp of a period of history that will be loaded with short stories about a whole list of kings and their disobedience (with a few exceptions). Another reason is that it becomes hard, once the kingdom divides, to follow which king is whose king, and whose son is which king, and so on and so on.
Another reason I get very glassy in this section is because it always seemed like I was reading two versions of the same story and I could never figure out if we were having flashbacks or what transition I missed. I never felt like this was explained well, so as I look at this period of history with my students (in the books of 1/2 Samuel, 1/2 Kings, and 1/2 Chronicles), I try to be very intentional about mapping out our sources. If it seems like we’re reading two different versions of the same story — it’s because we are.
While I’ll be skipping a lot of extra-curricular information, I’m going to attempt to map out these sections using my own language. While I’m sure there are great sources out there for this, I have never found a package that I liked. I’m sure that many people have done this better than I’m about to and I’m sure that some Bible scholar would tear the language I choose to use to shreds, but nevertheless, I want to make an attempt. (That’s a disclaimer. I’m always nervous when stuff comes out of my own mind and not from a great source. Be warned.)
We see two stories for this period of history in the Hebrew scriptures. One of them is the story as seen in the books of Samuel and Kings. Chronicles is another recording of the same period of history. Yet, they are much more than just two different records. Let’s attack them one at a time.
And before we do, let’s just acknowledge how much debate swirls about all of the details of authorship. Scholars argue about who wrote the books. They argue about when the books were written. They argue about why the books were written and the perspective and/or the agenda we encounter in each. I don’t say this to trivialize those arguments; on the contrary, these debates are incredibly important. In particular, the debate about WHEN, is one of the most significant in trying to understand what is taking place in these records from a literary standpoint.
I will not be trying to speak into these debates, but trying to take very general stances based on everything from consensus, to my own personal leanings.
1/2 SAMUEL & 1/2 KINGS
I like to argue that this version of the story could be read from the perspective of the northern kingdom of Israel. I use that designation very loosely, as I think what I’m trying to point out is where this version is written relative to its (supposed) reference in history — not geography. This portion of history reads more like the headlines of your current events than it does as a reflection on earlier history. However, it is important to point out immediately that ancient easterners do not record history in the same way that modern westerners do. They are not nearly as interested in recording the FACTS with an intense commitment to PRECISION and ACCURACY. Instead, they would like to tell the story of what’s happening in a way that compels the reader to a particular course of action. For the ancient Jew, history is prophetic (and by prophetic, we are not referring to “future-telling,” but the mouthpiece of God to the current day).
One doesn’t need to look much further than where the books are arranged in the Hebrew scriptures. I see many students are shocked to find out that when the Christians arranged the canon that we use today, they rearranged the book order of the Old Testament. Inquiring minds often want to know why we did such a thing, to which my oversimplified answer is, “in order to make the Jews look bad.” This usually doesn’t please many people, who quickly argue that the canon was arranged according to genre (a western category); while this is technically true, to ignore the historical anti-Semitism that is rampant at the point of history where we arranged the canon would be foolish. One has to explain why we felt the need to change the order in the first place.
The original “Old Testament” was called the “TaNaKh,” which is shorthand for the three sections of the Hebrew scriptures: Torah (the books of Moses, often referred to as the Pentateuch), the Nevi’im (“the prophets”), and the Ketuvim (“the writings”). While the “Christian Old Testament” ends with the prophecy of Malachi, therefore placing a curse on the people of the Old Testament, the Bible that Jesus was familiar with ended with the book of Chronicles and a promise to return the people to their land.
The whole reason we’re on this rabbit trail is to make the point that the “history” of Samuel/Kings is found in the Nevi’im — the prophets. History is prophetic. So while I describe this section of history as being “the headlines” from Israel, I do not mean this in a cold, detached anchorman-delivering-the-facts-of-the-event kind of way. Their “reporting” is much different than ours.
So to summarize, I like to refer to Samuel and Kings as the “agenda-driven headlines from Israel.”
1/2 CHRONICLES
In contrast to Samuel/Kings, Chronicles is written from the perspective of Judah. Again, I use this term loosely, as I’m referencing time and not geography. Most scholars would say that Chronicles is written much later (or, at the very least, Samuel/Kings is written to give the impression of earlier authorship). This also affects the way that Chronicles reads. I teach my students that if Samuel/Kings is supposed to be read as headlines, then Chronicles is written like a documentary.
Imagine you were comparing the headlines from the period of the Vietnam War from a documentary that was made decades later. You are hearing two different records of the same period of history. While the headlines will carry one perspective, loaded with insight that is felt “in the moment,” the documentary is trying to look back and tell the story with a sense of hindsight. Chronicles is the Jewish record of hindsight. And these two tellings of history will pack a wallop of information in their perspectives alone.
You may remember that Chronicles is what ended the Hebrew scriptures, meaning that it is not found in the Nevi’im, but in the Ketuvim — or the “Writings.” While both records have an agenda that is supposed to compel the reader to action, they come from different historical reference points. In this sense, Chronicles is much more like the “history” we are familiar with. Just as we are aware that those who compile history tell a story in the way they compile it, so does the Chonicler.
And so to summarize this section, I would say that Chronicles is a “documentary perspective from Judah.”
You may wonder why we’re taking all this time to get lost in literature, but it will become clear as to why it’s important in our next post.
1.30.2014
1.27.2014
Snapshots of David
And rightly they should. The days of David are still to this day considered to be the “glory days” of Israelite history. The scriptures have God speaking of David as a man after His own heart. Even in the days of Jesus, people were still looking for the son of David. They were looking for the promised son of David, since the first one didn’t work out so well (more on this later). To quote an idea of Rob Bell's (in Jesus Wants to Save Christians), it’s as if people were looking for David’s “other son.”
So what is it that makes this David character so captivating and one who stands above the typical echelon of biblical characters, with a story that rings throughout history? I wanted to make a few observations about David that may or may not shed some light on who he was.
First of all (and maybe most important), David seemed to have an unusually intimate walk with God. David was a man of spiritual practice. If even half of the Psalms that are attributed to him actually belong to him (and yes, there is a massive debate about that, stemming from a confusing term in the Hebrew we translate “of” [as in “Psalm of David”]), then this man has a very high level of spiritual awareness. I think Brother Lawrence would say that David knew what it was to practice the presence of God. David sings to God with such raw emotion and genuine expression that his heart erupts with worship. He sings of how sweet the Law of the LORD is to him and how he meditates on it day and night. This was a man who knew (at least for a long period of his life) how to set aside time, energy, and resources to pursue intimacy with the Creator of the universe. We, here at Impact, would call that somebody who knows what true success looks like.
Second, David (especially towards the beginning of his life) seems very unconcerned with spreading his own fame. David is here to kiddush haShem; he’s here to spread the fame of the LORD. So that “the whole world would know that there is a God in Israel,” he will say more than once. And while I’m going to have the same problem with David’s thirst for war that I had in the book of Joshua (and I think God has something to say about the blood that’s on David’s hands, no?), David is fighting a different kind of war. He’s not trying to expand his own kingdom and his own name. But he’s here to help God accomplish His greater purposes of restoration and redemption.
Third, David sees the marginalized. David notices the down and out. He’s seeking to bring justice — mishpat — to the world around him. Often, this will be what drives him to the battle lines. It’s not just to enlarge his territory, but it’s in response to the misuse of power. I’m reminded of one story where David sends messengers with the tidings of good will to a neighboring king. When the king abuses the messengers (lack of hospitality) and sends them home humiliated, David sets out to right the wrong. Not because of retribution, but because David has heard the cry. David will share the spoils of victory even with those who don’t contribute — simply because they belong to the community. David will show love to his enemies; so much so that it becomes a fault, with Nathan rebuking David: “You love those who hate you and hate those who love you!” (2 Samuel 19:6) He invites the crippled descendant of his enemy Saul to dine at his table. He repeatedly mourns the death of his enemies.
While I believe the list could go on, what I think we see in David is a man who is here to lay his life down for his sheep. He is the quintessential shepherd — the epitome of the one who is here to lead with his voice. His counter-intuitive, upside-down approach to ruling God’s kingdom, God’s way, is what sets him apart as a different kind of king. A different kind of leader. A different kind of man.
A man after God’s own heart.
At least, until he begins to forget where he comes from.
But now we’re getting ahead of ourselves and I’ll need to jump into a helicopter, fly to 10,000 feet, and build a biblical case for my last statement. And so, onto the chronicles (pun intended) of biblical history…
1.22.2014
Throw Your Stone
The theme of this post was heavily influenced by the teaching of Ray VanderLaan.
Of course, it would be impossible to think of the juxtaposition of this donkey herder and shepherd boy without thinking of the famous story of David and Goliath. And now that we have compared the two kings, it’s time to look at the story of the boy who felled the giant.
Before we begin, this is one of those stories where you need to be sure you don’t “check out” as we discuss. As we’ve often seen, there are things in the story that we miss because of our familiarity. In case you need help snapping out of your “David and Goliath Haze.” here is an interesting TED talk on the story (which does not serve as my endorsement of the content, but does get our brains working).
Malcolm Gladwell: The unheard story of David and Goliath
So the story begins with David the shepherd boy (the last of eight sons, the “runt of the litter”) running an errand for his father; he’s sent to take a care package to the front lines of the battle with the Philistines where the brothers (who must be of fighting age) are stationed. Upon reaching the camp, David is startled to hear the taunts of Goliath, the Philistine hero. We are told that Goliath comes out to the valley every day at the morning and evening hours (this refers to the morning and evening sacrifices) to taunt the God of Israel.
David cannot believe his ears. This Philistine not only comes out to taunt the armies of Israel, but openly rebukes YHVH at the very moment Israel would seek to honor and worship Him! David may be young, but he’s also young enough to still carry a passionate, youthful naiveté about him. After inquiring why nobody does anything about this taunting rebel, David offers to go down and fight him himself, to which his brothers respond with a lack of enthusiasm. David approaches King Saul and offers his services.
And this sets the stage for what I call “the story behind the story.” You see, nobody wants to do anything. They are paralyzed with fear — capsized with the illogical.
They don’t trust the story.
But David is willing and eventually talks the king into letting him end this stalemate. After a failed attempt to fit him with Saul’s armor, David goes out to the battle lines after a quick stop by the creek to grab five smooth stones. As a shepherd boy, David is armed with his sling — the typical tool of the shepherd. Shepherds become incredibly good with a sling after using it day after day.
As David approaches Goliath, he receives a taunting rebuke — to which he responds with an assertion of who God is and what the world will see about this God whom Goliath has openly rebuked.
Because David is here to kiddush haShem.
He’s not always logical. But he’s willing.
David lets his first stone fly from his sling and it strikes the giant on the forehead, causing Goliath to fall to his face. David, stealing the sword at Goliath’s side, chops off the giant’s head and the Philistines head for the hills.
But it’s important to see this story as an Easterner.
This story is full of numbers. Some of these numbers get translated away, but I begin to notice some patterns.
Goliath is six cubits high. His spear head weighs six hundred shekels. We know from another passage in Chronicles that Goliath is famous for having a six-fingered brother.
666
And Goliath’s armor covers him like scales.
Like scales? 666? You don’t suppose Goliath is supposed to remind us of evil do you? Of the serpent?
The word for bruise is the same as crush.
David has just crushed the head of the serpent. (This is not to take anything from Jesus later, but appreciate what the “pre-Jesus” readers would have heard.)
Why does David choose five stones?
Five is the number for the book of Moses.
And where are you supposed to put the Law?
“…bind it to your forehead.”
David puts the law on this Philistine’s forehead and he bows in worship to the God he was just taunting.
We have to appreciate the story, not just for it’s factual historicity and mechanics, but for what the author is trying to tell us through his narrative.
And the bigger, greater point of the story? Why was the serpent crushed?
Because David was willing to throw his stone.
Almost every reader misses this point, but Saul is from the tribe of Benjamin. The one thing Benjamin is known for is their special detachment of left-handed men, gifted with the sling:
David’s not the guy who’s supposed to be out there with a sling — SAUL IS!
But the thing that fell the giant was the willingness of a servant of God. Somebody from the bottom. Somebody who remembers where they come from. Somebody who trust the story enough to kiddush haShem.
Whoever you are — wherever you are — throw your stone.
You may not be the most qualified. You may be the right guy or gal for the job. You may not see the logic in your obedience.
Throw your stone, anyway.
Because throwing your stone allows God to use you as a partner in His great story. Throwing your stone demonstrates your willingness. And your weakness demonstrates God’s power, not yours.
Trust the story.
Throw your stone.
Of course, it would be impossible to think of the juxtaposition of this donkey herder and shepherd boy without thinking of the famous story of David and Goliath. And now that we have compared the two kings, it’s time to look at the story of the boy who felled the giant.
Before we begin, this is one of those stories where you need to be sure you don’t “check out” as we discuss. As we’ve often seen, there are things in the story that we miss because of our familiarity. In case you need help snapping out of your “David and Goliath Haze.” here is an interesting TED talk on the story (which does not serve as my endorsement of the content, but does get our brains working).
Malcolm Gladwell: The unheard story of David and Goliath
So the story begins with David the shepherd boy (the last of eight sons, the “runt of the litter”) running an errand for his father; he’s sent to take a care package to the front lines of the battle with the Philistines where the brothers (who must be of fighting age) are stationed. Upon reaching the camp, David is startled to hear the taunts of Goliath, the Philistine hero. We are told that Goliath comes out to the valley every day at the morning and evening hours (this refers to the morning and evening sacrifices) to taunt the God of Israel.
David cannot believe his ears. This Philistine not only comes out to taunt the armies of Israel, but openly rebukes YHVH at the very moment Israel would seek to honor and worship Him! David may be young, but he’s also young enough to still carry a passionate, youthful naiveté about him. After inquiring why nobody does anything about this taunting rebel, David offers to go down and fight him himself, to which his brothers respond with a lack of enthusiasm. David approaches King Saul and offers his services.
And this sets the stage for what I call “the story behind the story.” You see, nobody wants to do anything. They are paralyzed with fear — capsized with the illogical.
They don’t trust the story.
But David is willing and eventually talks the king into letting him end this stalemate. After a failed attempt to fit him with Saul’s armor, David goes out to the battle lines after a quick stop by the creek to grab five smooth stones. As a shepherd boy, David is armed with his sling — the typical tool of the shepherd. Shepherds become incredibly good with a sling after using it day after day.
As David approaches Goliath, he receives a taunting rebuke — to which he responds with an assertion of who God is and what the world will see about this God whom Goliath has openly rebuked.
Because David is here to kiddush haShem.
He’s not always logical. But he’s willing.
David lets his first stone fly from his sling and it strikes the giant on the forehead, causing Goliath to fall to his face. David, stealing the sword at Goliath’s side, chops off the giant’s head and the Philistines head for the hills.
But it’s important to see this story as an Easterner.
This story is full of numbers. Some of these numbers get translated away, but I begin to notice some patterns.
Goliath is six cubits high. His spear head weighs six hundred shekels. We know from another passage in Chronicles that Goliath is famous for having a six-fingered brother.666
And Goliath’s armor covers him like scales.
Like scales? 666? You don’t suppose Goliath is supposed to remind us of evil do you? Of the serpent?
“I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and her offspring;
he shall bruise your head,
and you shall bruise his heel.” Genesis 3:15
The word for bruise is the same as crush.
David has just crushed the head of the serpent. (This is not to take anything from Jesus later, but appreciate what the “pre-Jesus” readers would have heard.)
Why does David choose five stones?
Five is the number for the book of Moses.
And where are you supposed to put the Law?
“…bind it to your forehead.”
David puts the law on this Philistine’s forehead and he bows in worship to the God he was just taunting.
We have to appreciate the story, not just for it’s factual historicity and mechanics, but for what the author is trying to tell us through his narrative.
And the bigger, greater point of the story? Why was the serpent crushed?
Because David was willing to throw his stone.
Almost every reader misses this point, but Saul is from the tribe of Benjamin. The one thing Benjamin is known for is their special detachment of left-handed men, gifted with the sling:
And the people of Benjamin mustered out of their cities on that day 26,000 men who drew the sword, besides the inhabitants of Gibeah, who mustered 700 chosen men. Among all these were 700 chosen men who were left-handed; every one could sling a stone at a hair and not miss. And the men of Israel, apart from Benjamin, mustered 400,000 men who drew the sword; all these were men of war. Judges 20:15–17
David’s not the guy who’s supposed to be out there with a sling — SAUL IS!
But the thing that fell the giant was the willingness of a servant of God. Somebody from the bottom. Somebody who remembers where they come from. Somebody who trust the story enough to kiddush haShem.
Whoever you are — wherever you are — throw your stone.
You may not be the most qualified. You may be the right guy or gal for the job. You may not see the logic in your obedience.
Throw your stone, anyway.
Because throwing your stone allows God to use you as a partner in His great story. Throwing your stone demonstrates your willingness. And your weakness demonstrates God’s power, not yours.
David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.”
Trust the story.
Throw your stone.
1.17.2014
A King After God's Own Heart
The reign of Saul is interrupted by the introduction of another character who will steal the attention of the narrative of God. After we’ve been introduced to the donkey herder who was demanded by the people, God wants to introduce the Israelites to the kind of king HE would choose (see Deuteronomy 17).
Once Saul has demonstrated his unwillingness and incompetence at surrendering to God’s plan and the story He’s telling in the world, God will send Samuel to go and anoint the next king. Samuel is led to the house of Jesse, who has eight sons. In a Cinderella-esque scene, the brothers are all paraded in front of Samuel, starting with the oldest. However, when God makes it clear that none of these brothers are to be the next king, Samuel presses Jesse on whether or not he has any other sons.
Jesse admits to the existence of David, but this certainly couldn’t be the next king. He’s the last of eight brothers — the runt of the litter. He is so young that he’s out with his sisters watching the flock of sheep. (In the ancient Middle East, the young girls were those who watched the flock, and their little brothers were often sent out to “help their sisters” in order to keep them out of trouble; this may indicate the age of David as being around 6–10 years old.) This kid is a nothing.
However, Samuel demands to see him and God confirms that this is the son who will be the next king of Israel. After a quick anointing service, Samuel leaves the residence of Jesse. In this quick encounter, God has shown the reader, yet again, how counter-intuitive the Kingdom of Shalom is. It is not like the Kingdom of Empire. It does not look for, measure, or build itself upon appearances or skill sets. It’s not about physical strength or prowess. In fact, time and time again, God will choose the underdog. And I believe God does this for (at least) a couple of reasons:
First, God does this so that we — and the world — would never be confused as to whose strength it is on display. He likes to work in such a way that we could never claim that what we did was by our own power alone. God seems to enjoy doing things all backwards, just to remind us of who created “forwards” and “backwards.”
Secondly, people who are chosen from the bottom of the heap just might remember their own story. And if they remember where they came from, they will always be people who see those on the bottom and help to restore that world back to God’s original intent. These are the kinds of people God uses in His upside-down economy; they make the best partners.
And we will see this play out throughout the lives of Saul and David. For quite a while, the narrative will be fixed on these two characters and how they interact with God’s great project and with each other. Saul will continue to try and build up his own empire and his own name. He will try to eliminate the threats to his throne and win back the support of his people so that he might build a bigger and better kingdom.
But that’s not what God has been up to.
And so we continually see David’s heart as Saul tries to have him eliminated. Time and time again, Saul seems to be “delivered” into David’s hands — ripe for destruction. Once David walks upon Saul in his sleep, spear at his side. When David’s companion wants to kill him, David refuses on principle. Another time, Saul stumbles into a cave to relieve himself, unaware that this cave is where David and his men are hiding. David chooses to do nothing more than cut off the corner of his robe (an incredibly loaded move, by the way; David cuts off the tassels from the corners of Saul’s robe — a stunning picture/statement about Saul’s obedience).
This is the difference between Saul and David. Saul is there to build up his own empire and his own name. David is there to do what is called kiddush haShem — or “hallow the Name.” David is there to build up God’s name and God’s kingdom. David is there to do God’s will, God’s way. And this is why God has chosen David.
Now, just like the patriarchs, David will be far from perfect and he will struggle to get things right all of the time. But the juxtaposition of empire and shalom here is hard to miss.
Trusting the story is always counter-intuitive, but we need to remember this in our own lives. There’s a kind of leader God is looking for, and it often runs counter to our ideas of great leadership. Strength is different. Success is different. Things are backwards.
God chooses Jacob, not Esau.
Jacob will cross his hands when blessing Manasseh and Ephraim.
God will rescue Israel from Egypt, the last of all the great nations of the earth.
And God chooses the runt of the litter — the little shepherd boy. The last of eight brothers.
Because he will be willing to kiddush haShem.
And he just might remember where he came from.
Will we?
Once Saul has demonstrated his unwillingness and incompetence at surrendering to God’s plan and the story He’s telling in the world, God will send Samuel to go and anoint the next king. Samuel is led to the house of Jesse, who has eight sons. In a Cinderella-esque scene, the brothers are all paraded in front of Samuel, starting with the oldest. However, when God makes it clear that none of these brothers are to be the next king, Samuel presses Jesse on whether or not he has any other sons.
Jesse admits to the existence of David, but this certainly couldn’t be the next king. He’s the last of eight brothers — the runt of the litter. He is so young that he’s out with his sisters watching the flock of sheep. (In the ancient Middle East, the young girls were those who watched the flock, and their little brothers were often sent out to “help their sisters” in order to keep them out of trouble; this may indicate the age of David as being around 6–10 years old.) This kid is a nothing.
However, Samuel demands to see him and God confirms that this is the son who will be the next king of Israel. After a quick anointing service, Samuel leaves the residence of Jesse. In this quick encounter, God has shown the reader, yet again, how counter-intuitive the Kingdom of Shalom is. It is not like the Kingdom of Empire. It does not look for, measure, or build itself upon appearances or skill sets. It’s not about physical strength or prowess. In fact, time and time again, God will choose the underdog. And I believe God does this for (at least) a couple of reasons:
Secondly, people who are chosen from the bottom of the heap just might remember their own story. And if they remember where they came from, they will always be people who see those on the bottom and help to restore that world back to God’s original intent. These are the kinds of people God uses in His upside-down economy; they make the best partners.
And we will see this play out throughout the lives of Saul and David. For quite a while, the narrative will be fixed on these two characters and how they interact with God’s great project and with each other. Saul will continue to try and build up his own empire and his own name. He will try to eliminate the threats to his throne and win back the support of his people so that he might build a bigger and better kingdom.
But that’s not what God has been up to.
And so we continually see David’s heart as Saul tries to have him eliminated. Time and time again, Saul seems to be “delivered” into David’s hands — ripe for destruction. Once David walks upon Saul in his sleep, spear at his side. When David’s companion wants to kill him, David refuses on principle. Another time, Saul stumbles into a cave to relieve himself, unaware that this cave is where David and his men are hiding. David chooses to do nothing more than cut off the corner of his robe (an incredibly loaded move, by the way; David cuts off the tassels from the corners of Saul’s robe — a stunning picture/statement about Saul’s obedience).
This is the difference between Saul and David. Saul is there to build up his own empire and his own name. David is there to do what is called kiddush haShem — or “hallow the Name.” David is there to build up God’s name and God’s kingdom. David is there to do God’s will, God’s way. And this is why God has chosen David.
Now, just like the patriarchs, David will be far from perfect and he will struggle to get things right all of the time. But the juxtaposition of empire and shalom here is hard to miss.
Trusting the story is always counter-intuitive, but we need to remember this in our own lives. There’s a kind of leader God is looking for, and it often runs counter to our ideas of great leadership. Strength is different. Success is different. Things are backwards.
God chooses Jacob, not Esau.
Jacob will cross his hands when blessing Manasseh and Ephraim.
God will rescue Israel from Egypt, the last of all the great nations of the earth.
And God chooses the runt of the litter — the little shepherd boy. The last of eight brothers.
Because he will be willing to kiddush haShem.
And he just might remember where he came from.
Will we?
1.14.2014
A Donkey Herder to Lead Us
As we come closer to the end of the book of Judges, we feel a definite shift in the momentum of the story.
We are confronted with a story about a Levite and his concubine (I know — a blog post ready to be written, but not today) who are traveling through the land of Israel when they need to find a place to stay for the evening. The servant, who could very possibly be a foreigner himself, suggests that they stop in Jebus for the night. The Levite, however, refuses and says they will continue on until they reach a town that is inhabited by Israelites. The Levite is perfectly aware of how foreigners can be treated by pagan nations and has put his trust in the people of God to be people who remember where they come from and take care of the aliens.
When they arrive in the land of Benjamin, an old man invites the travelers to enter his home and care for their needs. During the evening, the people of the town come to take advantage (sexually) of the Levitical guest. The host, in typical eastern fashion, valuing hospitality, urges the men not to make such demands. The host is attempting to save the life of the Levite. By the time the conversation is over, the crowd is distracted by the concubine — whom they rape all night and leave for dead.
This is an ugly story.
But did you notice? We’ve been in this ugly story before.
This story mirrors the story of Sodom and Gomorrah so closely one has to check and make sure they are two different stories. And if you remember, this idea of hospitality in the ancient Middle East is a major, major deal to God.
The Levite knows this and is enraged by their actions. He takes the body of the murdered concubine and cuts it up into twelve pieces and sends it to all twelve tribes of Israel, spreading the word of what has been done in one of the towns of the LORD’s own people. The people of Judah will end up marching against the tribe of Benjamin and, eventually, enacting punishment for the ways of the Benjamites. Then they make a pact to ensure that the remaining Benjamites have wives to preserve their line and not cut off a descendant of Jacob forever.
This is a momentum shift in the story. We aren’t just dealing with a people struggling with how to follow God. We are now seeing the people of God become so bad they mirror the horrible acts of Sodom — acts that caused God to come down and rescue the oppressed. Instead of partnering with God at the crossroads of the earth, being people who trust the story, this nation of Israel is beginning to become what I will call the ANTI-story. They are losing the plot and starting to do everything contrary to their call. They are starting to look like the very Canaanites whom they dispossessed.
This story is followed up by the book of 1 Samuel, which begins with the story of Eli and his sons, a family of priests. The sons have taken up residence at the entrance to God’s tabernacle and are sleeping with the women there (a likely indicator for an introduction of the practice of shrine prostitution) AND they are taking advantage of those who come to sacrifice to YHVH. If you remember the roles of the priests, they are there to help people navigate their atonement and put God on display. But Eli’s sons are being the ANTI-priests; they are the ANTI-story.
There is a momentum shift in the story of God’s people. They are forgetting their call to be a kingdom of priests who put God on display and they instead want to be like all the other nations around them. So, when they come to ask for a king to rule over them, this is their sin. The request for the king is not the problem. We know this by reading Deuteronomy 17:14–15.
It’s not the request for a king that displeases God — it is the kind of king they want. Listen to what they say in 1 Samuel 8:
And again a few verses later:
They have forgotten the story.
“… such as all the other nations have … Then we will be like all the other nations …”
They are supposed to be different. They are supposed to put God on display. They are supposed to be a kingdom of priests.
And so God gives them the kind of king they want — but not without trying to give them a message at the same time. God chooses a man who is good-looking, head and shoulders taller than the average man. Saul is the man who looks impressive to the eye (does this remind you of a particular desert tree?) and appears to be mighty, just like all the nations around them.
But we are introduced to Saul as he is chasing some lost donkeys. He loses the donkeys and decides to go and see the man of God instead.
Saul is a donkey herder. And not even a good donkey herder — he loses donkeys!
Are you catching God’s tongue-in-cheek teaching lesson?
Who is Israel supposed to be? Sheep.
And who is supposed to lead sheep? A shepherd.
And so if God chooses a donkey herder to be their king, what is God saying they are? Stubborn and stiff-necked like jackasses.
And not only this, but what tribe is Saul from? Benjamin. The tribe with a big nasty history of disobedience. The stench of the Benjamites’ sin is still in the nostrils of Israel. This is God’s way of saying to the Israelites: You can have the kind of king I choose or the kind of king like everyone else. One of those will work out well for you and the other will not.
Will Israel hear the voice of their Shepherd?
This introduction to Saul will typify the kind of leadership and story we will read about with him. Saul, who will always be in it for himself. Saul, who won’t know how to lead God’s sheep to green pasture. Saul, who, instead of leading people through the “valley of the shadow of death,” will sit in a war camp while his people cower in fear under the taunts of a mighty giant.
This is no shepherd. And he’s no leader.
He’s certainly not a priest.
He’s a donkey herder.
We are confronted with a story about a Levite and his concubine (I know — a blog post ready to be written, but not today) who are traveling through the land of Israel when they need to find a place to stay for the evening. The servant, who could very possibly be a foreigner himself, suggests that they stop in Jebus for the night. The Levite, however, refuses and says they will continue on until they reach a town that is inhabited by Israelites. The Levite is perfectly aware of how foreigners can be treated by pagan nations and has put his trust in the people of God to be people who remember where they come from and take care of the aliens.
When they arrive in the land of Benjamin, an old man invites the travelers to enter his home and care for their needs. During the evening, the people of the town come to take advantage (sexually) of the Levitical guest. The host, in typical eastern fashion, valuing hospitality, urges the men not to make such demands. The host is attempting to save the life of the Levite. By the time the conversation is over, the crowd is distracted by the concubine — whom they rape all night and leave for dead.
This is an ugly story.
But did you notice? We’ve been in this ugly story before.
This story mirrors the story of Sodom and Gomorrah so closely one has to check and make sure they are two different stories. And if you remember, this idea of hospitality in the ancient Middle East is a major, major deal to God.
The Levite knows this and is enraged by their actions. He takes the body of the murdered concubine and cuts it up into twelve pieces and sends it to all twelve tribes of Israel, spreading the word of what has been done in one of the towns of the LORD’s own people. The people of Judah will end up marching against the tribe of Benjamin and, eventually, enacting punishment for the ways of the Benjamites. Then they make a pact to ensure that the remaining Benjamites have wives to preserve their line and not cut off a descendant of Jacob forever.
This is a momentum shift in the story. We aren’t just dealing with a people struggling with how to follow God. We are now seeing the people of God become so bad they mirror the horrible acts of Sodom — acts that caused God to come down and rescue the oppressed. Instead of partnering with God at the crossroads of the earth, being people who trust the story, this nation of Israel is beginning to become what I will call the ANTI-story. They are losing the plot and starting to do everything contrary to their call. They are starting to look like the very Canaanites whom they dispossessed.
This story is followed up by the book of 1 Samuel, which begins with the story of Eli and his sons, a family of priests. The sons have taken up residence at the entrance to God’s tabernacle and are sleeping with the women there (a likely indicator for an introduction of the practice of shrine prostitution) AND they are taking advantage of those who come to sacrifice to YHVH. If you remember the roles of the priests, they are there to help people navigate their atonement and put God on display. But Eli’s sons are being the ANTI-priests; they are the ANTI-story.
There is a momentum shift in the story of God’s people. They are forgetting their call to be a kingdom of priests who put God on display and they instead want to be like all the other nations around them. So, when they come to ask for a king to rule over them, this is their sin. The request for the king is not the problem. We know this by reading Deuteronomy 17:14–15.
When you enter the land the Lord your God is giving you and have taken possession of it and settled in it, and you say, “Let us set a king over us like all the nations around us,” be sure to appoint over you a king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your fellow Israelites. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not an Israelite.
It’s not the request for a king that displeases God — it is the kind of king they want. Listen to what they say in 1 Samuel 8:
So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, “You are old, and your sons do not follow your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.”
And again a few verses later:
But the people refused to listen to Samuel. “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”
When Samuel heard all that the people said, he repeated it before the Lord. The Lord answered, “Listen to them and give them a king.”
Then Samuel said to the Israelites, “Everyone go back to your own town.”
They have forgotten the story.
“… such as all the other nations have … Then we will be like all the other nations …”
They are supposed to be different. They are supposed to put God on display. They are supposed to be a kingdom of priests.
And so God gives them the kind of king they want — but not without trying to give them a message at the same time. God chooses a man who is good-looking, head and shoulders taller than the average man. Saul is the man who looks impressive to the eye (does this remind you of a particular desert tree?) and appears to be mighty, just like all the nations around them.
But we are introduced to Saul as he is chasing some lost donkeys. He loses the donkeys and decides to go and see the man of God instead.
Saul is a donkey herder. And not even a good donkey herder — he loses donkeys!
Are you catching God’s tongue-in-cheek teaching lesson?
Who is Israel supposed to be? Sheep.
And who is supposed to lead sheep? A shepherd.
And so if God chooses a donkey herder to be their king, what is God saying they are? Stubborn and stiff-necked like jackasses.
And not only this, but what tribe is Saul from? Benjamin. The tribe with a big nasty history of disobedience. The stench of the Benjamites’ sin is still in the nostrils of Israel. This is God’s way of saying to the Israelites: You can have the kind of king I choose or the kind of king like everyone else. One of those will work out well for you and the other will not.
Will Israel hear the voice of their Shepherd?
This introduction to Saul will typify the kind of leadership and story we will read about with him. Saul, who will always be in it for himself. Saul, who won’t know how to lead God’s sheep to green pasture. Saul, who, instead of leading people through the “valley of the shadow of death,” will sit in a war camp while his people cower in fear under the taunts of a mighty giant.
This is no shepherd. And he’s no leader.
He’s certainly not a priest.
He’s a donkey herder.
1.08.2014
Ruth
The story begins with a woman named Naomi traveling with her husband and sons to the land of Moab to escape a famine. This move alone raises multiple questions. Why would you go to Moab? If one were to grab a map and look at the location of Moab, they would realize that the land of Bethlehem is right across the river from the land of Moab.
If there is a famine in Judah, then there is a famine in Moab.
So why go to Moab? There’s a possibility that it could be a statement about trusting another god’s story. Could it be that the family is tired of waiting for the LORD to provide and is convinced that putting their trust in the gods of Moab will be a better call? Of course, the exact opposite could be true. The one place that you go during a famine in biblical times is the land of Egypt. Because of the flooding of Egypt, the Egyptians always had food during times of famine. However, God had told His people never to go back to Egypt for their provision. So, it could be that Naomi’s family travels to Moab because they are obeying God’s command not to go to Egypt.
Either way, tragedy ensues for Naomi and her family. After her husband dies, her sons end up taking Moabite wives. Ten years later, her sons die, leaving her and her two daughters-in-law as widows and patriarchal orphans. Naomi decides to return to Israel, encouraging Orpah and Ruth to stay in Moab. Orpah stays, but Ruth refuses, insisting on going with Naomi. Naomi returns, encouraging all of her welcomers to call her Marah.
We’ve run into Marah before. It’s the word that means bitter. Again, depending on how you read the story, this name could cut two ways. Obviously, Naomi could be bitter because God has taken her family away. After seeking to be obedient to God by staying out of Egypt, Naomi could be quite a bitter woman. Of course, if Naomi had put her trust in another god’s story, she may also be making a statement about herself. If you remember, marah can also mean “deliberate, defiant rebellion.” It is possible that Naomi could see herself as being punished by God for making poor decisions.
And either way, she and Ruth show up back home — if you are keeping track — as practical aliens, orphans, and widows. They are now at the mercy of the community of Israel; an Israel, by the way, who we are told is being consistently disobedient to God’s call to bring shalom to chaos (see the repeated refrain of Judges: “At this time, there was no king and everyone did as he pleased…”). Surprisingly, they end up in the field of a kinsman, a man named Boaz. He is a righteous man, following the Levitical call not to cut the corners of his fields.
“When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:9–10
And so Ruth (and Naomi) become the benefactors of Boaz’s obedient generosity. Naomi, seeing him as a righteous man, tells Ruth to pursue a relationship with Boaz, telling her that he is their “kinsman redeemer.” According to the book of Leviticus, a family that is about to lose their inheritance must be saved by a member of their extended clan. You are not to allow a family member to be cut off on account of hard times. The kinsman redeemer is the one who has the right to buy their land and possessions, saving their spot in the larger Israelite community.
Ruth approaches Boaz during the night of harvest celebrations and, while he sleeps, “uncovers his feet.” This phrase is a Hebrew idiom that would refer to uncovering Boaz’s circumcision. Now, contrary to popular belief, there is nothing sexual about this act. What Ruth is doing is uncovering the sign of Boaz’s covenant with God. She is making a clear, Eastern plea for him to do the righteous thing — redeeming her family and buying their part of the community.
Boaz is startled awake (understandably) and sees a woman lying at his feet. He immediately understands what Ruth is asking through her gesture and agrees to pursue redemption. There is a hiccup, however. There is one man who has first rights to redeem Naomi and her family. The next day, Boaz travels to the city gate and encourages the man to redeem Naomi and her land. (He is, however, hoping that the kinsman turns the offer down, therefore giving Boaz the right to buy the property, including the chance to marry Ruth.) The kinsman agrees to redeem the land, but Boaz is quick to point out that the land comes with an old widow and a foreigner to provide for. At this juncture, the kinsman retreats.
You see, Ruth is a Moabitess. She is part of a marked clan. Her descendants will be unable to enter the assembly of the LORD for ten generations (although a lot is going to happen through her descendants). This woman is an outsider. She is dead weight, unable to produce anything of patriarchal value. She is an outcast.
But Boaz wants to affirm her and her mother-in-law’s value. He wants to make sure that they are taken care of and invited into the community. Because that is the kind of man Boaz is. (Sound familiar?)
As an afterthought, this story also speaks to us about redemption. In the biblical world, redemption is not a legal transaction. Unlike our Western theological definitions, redemption doesn’t relate to buying back. Redemption is a patriarchal term. It’s about being a loner, a mumzer, an outsider, a reject — and having some patriarch come along and see you and hear your cry and invite you into his fold. Redemption is a statement about acceptance and provision. “I accept you. I invite you to my table, where you will always be fed, cared for, and loved.”
This is what God does in Jesus. He sees us in our weakness. As we wander through the land as proverbial aliens, orphans, and widows, God sees us and invites us into His mishpucha (household). He declares that we are loved and cared for. He sees us. He pulls out a chair at His table and provides for our needs, declaring that we will never have to worry about where our strength will come from any more. We are a part of His family now.
He is our great Kinsmen Redeemer.
This is a story worth trusting.
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