ROMANS: Always a Remnant

We left the last conversation making a simple observation: sometimes we find it incredibly difficult to spread the same open-handed generosity and inclusion that was extended to us. Often without a conscious effort, we hoard all of the grace for ourselves and miss out on the primary mission of God in the world. This is where Paul continues the conversation for his Jewish audience.

But not all the Israelites accepted the good news. For Isaiah says, “Lord, who has believed our message?” Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ. But I ask: Did they not hear?

Paul agrees, this message is often difficult to extend to others, and he points out that not all of the Israelites throughout their history wanted to accept the good news of God’s great restoration project. Quoting Isaiah, Paul reasons that maybe these Israelites didn’t know the message — maybe they hadn’t heard or been taught. But Paul say this isn’t the case:

Of course they did:

“Their voice has gone out into all the earth,    their words to the ends of the world.”

By quoting Psalm 19, Paul does something that’s incredibly consistent with his ongoing argument. The Psalm speaks of the heavens giving voice to the goodness and greatness of God; this message from creation itself goes out “into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.” Paul has been arguing that Gentiles have all the ability to know God and believe in His promises, even without extensive education in Torah or the Word of God. They are able to hear the “Word of God” quite clearly. If this is true, and if Gentiles are able to worship Adonai by simply observing creation around them, then the people of God will certainly be without excuse. It will be their own religiosity that gets in the way. (To be sure, I hope everyone realizes these principles do apply to all religious people today. I hope my readers understand I’m not trying to “pick on” the Jewish people. Instead, we should be able to learn from these timeless truths in our own experience.)

Paul then proceeds to quote more passages from the Old Testament — Deuteronomy 32 and Isaiah 65:

Again I ask: Did Israel not understand? First, Moses says,

“I will make you envious by those who are not a nation;    I will make you angry by a nation that has no understanding.”

And Isaiah boldly says,

“I was found by those who did not seek me;    I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me.”

But concerning Israel he says,

“All day long I have held out my hands    to a disobedient and obstinate people.”

If you do the work to look back at the context of those quotations, you’ll understand why Paul is using them in his argument. Both passages will speak of Israel’s disobedience and refusal to partner with God in the work He’s doing in the world. In Isaiah 65, the prophet proclaims nations that weren’t even looking for God found Him, but His own people have been obstinate and stiff-necked. The quotations leave the Jewish reader with a question: Will we repeat their mistakes?

Truly, for all of us who would claim to be followers of Jesus, the question extends itself to us, as well.

In light of all this, it’s truly amazing God doesn’t abandon and reject His stubborn people (all of us, not just Jews)! But no, His grace rings true for all — even the stiff-necked.

I ask then: Did God reject his people? By no means! I am an Israelite myself, a descendant of Abraham, from the tribe of Benjamin. God did not reject his people, whom he foreknew. Don’t you know what Scripture says in the passage about Elijah—how he appealed to God against Israel: “Lord, they have killed your prophets and torn down your altars; I am the only one left, and they are trying to kill me”? And what was God’s answer to him? “I have reserved for myself seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” So too, at the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace. And if by grace, then it cannot be based on works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace.

Paul makes it clear that God is not rejecting His people, but neither is Paul rejecting his own brethren and heritage. He has not abandoned his Jewish identity in the least, but understands he is a true Israelite from the tribe of Benjamin. He also says God is always saving a remnant of people who are willing to partner with Him to carry out His purposes. Paul reminds us of Elijah and his self-righteous perspective at Horeb, how he was able to think he was the only one who loved God. But God reminded Elijah that He was at work in ways Elijah could never understand. The same was true for those believers in Rome.

The same is true for us today.

What then? What the people of Israel sought so earnestly they did not obtain. The elect among them did, but the others were hardened, as it is written:

“God gave them a spirit of stupor,    eyes that could not see    and ears that could not hear,to this very day.”

And David says:

“May their table become a snare and a trap,    a stumbling block and a retribution for them.May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see,    and their backs be bent forever.”

We could take quite some time to unpack these quotations. The more I study Paul, the more amazed I become at his use of the Text and his ability to teach rabbinically. His quotation and teaching mechanics are fantastic (and this would be expected from a student of Gamaliel). Paul quotes what seems to be Deuteronomy 29; although it is not a clean quotation, there is some discussion about whether Paul is employing another gezerah shavah and combining this Deuteronomy quotation with another quote from Isaiah 29. This would make all kinds of sense considering the context of the two passages.

But let’s stick with the Deuteronomy 29 portion and note the context of the quotation. Deuteronomy is the record of the renewal of the covenant, and the passage quoted is the section where they are remembering they are the ones who have seen the miraculous deeds of the LORD in Egypt. It is their story to tell and who would understand the redemption of God better than those who were redeemed from Egypt? A fitting quotation, to say the least.

This is then combined with a quote from Psalm 69:22–23, a Psalm where David has said earlier, “May those who hope in you not be disgraced because of me.”

May that be the prayer of each of us who calls ourself a child of God and a follower of Jesus. May we constantly remind ourselves of God’s incredible grace and His pursuit of all nations and all peoples. May we keep this mission of God in the forefront of our minds so we might be appropriate ambassadors to His work.

And may those who choose to hope in the LORD not be disgraced because of us; instead, may they find the acceptance, love, and belonging God longs to give all people — the same acceptance we have experienced. May we be counted amongst the remnant God is using to put the world back together.

3 ISAIAH: the Hope

We now come to last prophetic voice in the Exilic time period. It is the voice of 3 Isaiah and I will refer to this voice as spanning the chapters of 40 through 66. Many reputable scholars (people like Walter Brueggemann, for example) would refer to these chapters as two voices, 3 Isaiah (40-54) and 4 Isaiah (55-66). I find this argument to be intriguing and I can easily see what they are looking at in such an evaluation, but for the sake of this conversation, I’ll keep this portion as a singular voice in the Exilic time period.

This voice of Isaiah comes to announce hope to the exiled people of Judah. In a sense, one could say that the hope of 3 Isaiah comes in the form of encouraging God’s people in their active participation and partnership with God in their rescue. Much of the initial conversation of 3 Isaiah centers around the “servant” figure that is found referenced numerous times. Many of us are familiar with chapter 53, which we have often deemed the “Suffering Servant” chapter in connection to Jesus. While I don’t seek to take any of the significance away from it’s obvious Jesus connections, we often miss the larger context of the references to this suffering servant.

The servant is talked about many times in the Text preceding chapter 53. Its references and connections in these passages unmistakably point to the people of Judah in exile.

Isaiah 41:

“But you, Israel, my servant,
    Jacob, whom I have chosen,
    you descendants of Abraham my friend,
I took you from the ends of the earth,
    from its farthest corners I called you.
I said, ‘You are my servant’;
    I have chosen you and have not rejected you.
So do not fear, for I am with you;
    do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Isaiah 43:

Lead out those who have eyes but are blind,
    who have ears but are deaf.
All the nations gather together
    and the peoples assemble.
Which of their gods foretold this
    and proclaimed to us the former things?
Let them bring in their witnesses to prove they were right,
    so that others may hear and say, “It is true.”
“You are my witnesses,” declares the Lord,
    “and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
    and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
    nor will there be one after me.”

Isaiah 44:

“But now listen, Jacob, my servant,
    Israel, whom I have chosen.
This is what the Lord says—
    he who made you, who formed you in the womb,
    and who will help you:
Do not be afraid, Jacob, my servant,
    Jeshurun, whom I have chosen.”

We could keep going, on and on, but the point would clearly be the same. The primary image of the servant in 3 Isaiah is the suffering, exiled people of God. Now, again, let me reiterate that I am not trying to take away from the prophetic allusions or implications of Jesus’ own fulfillment of this passage; however, when Christian readers read the closing chapters of Isaiah, we almost always miss the point of the prophecy entirely. Isaiah is trying to speak to the people about how they will actively engage this empire and experience the rescue of God. The restoration of all things will come about through hardship and suffering. However, if they will be willing to be the chosen servant of God, then through their suffering will rise a new day and a new era of God’s kingdom of shalom.

If they can overcome — if they can endure — they will see a new world burst forth in the midst of the one they currently reside in. Feel the shift take place in chapter 55:

“Come, all you who are thirsty,
    come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
    and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
    and you will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
    listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
    my faithful love promised to David.”

Read the whole chapter; it’s an incredible piece of literature. It is difficult for us as Western, American Christians to resonate with much of the Scripture. Generally speaking, the Bible is a book written by an oppressed people, to an oppressed people, about living in a world of oppression. It is difficult to hear and understand the words of 3 Isaiah when our toughest decision for the day will often be where to go for lunch and our spiritual life revolves around “spiritual” wine and milk that we can buy without cost.

In fact, 3 Isaiah is quite resolute in dealing with matters of real bread and milk. In a brilliant move, the author of 3 Isaiah brings us full circle to the discussion that started this prophetic search in the first place: justice. The very things that were critiqued in the first prophetic voice of Isaiah are what they are told to remember, to return to, and never abandon. Chapter 58 of Isaiah is one of my favorite in the Tanakh:

“Shout it aloud, do not hold back.
    Raise your voice like a trumpet.
Declare to my people their rebellion
    and to the descendants of Jacob their sins.
For day after day they seek me out;
    they seem eager to know my ways,

as if they were a nation that does what is right
    and has not forsaken the commands of its God.
They ask me for just decisions
    and seem eager for God to come near them.
‘Why have we fasted,’ they say,
    ‘and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
    and you have not noticed?’

“Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
    and exploit all your workers.
Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
    and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
    and expect your voice to be heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
    only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
    and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
    a day acceptable to the Lord?

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
    and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
    Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

The Repairer of Broken Walls?

Is the image of the vineyard still seared in your mind from 1 Isaiah? The prophecy that God would tear down the walls of His vineyard? Apparently, that prophecy had an open end to it; apparently, God’s people have a part to play in helping to restore what has been broken down. They will be called Repairers of Broken Walls.

But how will they do this? How could one possibly overcome such adversity? How could they sit in the midst of exile and be people of optimistic justice and hope that greed and oppression don’t get the last word?

They will have to be people who trust the story. They will have to be people who know when to say enough. They will have to be people who trust that they have everything they need and realize that they…

No. Wait.

WE will have to be people who trust the story. WE will have to be people who know when to say enough. WE will have to be people who trust that WE have everything WE need and realize that WE are free to lay down OUR lives for the sake of other people 

We will have to be people of Sabbath.

The verses that immediately follow in chapter 58 come as a complete surprise. Unless we understand this narrative of God as an invitation to trust the story, we will continue to wonder what those verses have to say about justice.

“If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
    and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
    and the Lord’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
    and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,
then you will find your joy in the Lord,
    and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land
    and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

It’s like we’ve come all the way back to Genesis 1 — as if a proper understanding of where the story begins is the key to unlocking a willingness to partner with God in restoring the world.

God’s still looking for partners. God’s still choosing servants.

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
    and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out,
    or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
    and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
    he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
    In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”

Creating a Space

The Jews have been examining the record of the building of the Tabernacle for quite some time.  They have noticed some incredible undercurrents taking place in the Text.  What I'm about to show you takes an awful lot of time scouring the Text to find and notice; it is certainly not something that you would notice on a cursory reading.

I am going to ask you to do a little bit of work (and if I didn't think it was worth it, I wouldn't ask you to do it).  I would like you to grab a Bible or open up a tab for an online version so that you can see the Text for yourself.  I will even put hyperlinks in the blog text below so all you have to do is click on the verse.  When you've done this, I'd like you to look up the following list of verses:

Exodus 25:1
Exodus 30:11
Exodus 30:17
Exodus 30:22
Exodus 30:34
Exodus 31:1
Exodus 31:12

Now, I know you think I've either made a mistake or lost my mind.  Why in the world would I want you to look up those verses?

Go back up to that list and count how many of those references there are.

There are seven.

The Tabernacle is created with seven “the LORD saids.”  Can you think of anything else that was created with seven “and God saids”?

Creation.  The construction of the Tabernacle is narrated as a retelling of the story of Genesis 1.  Did you know that one of the things that the Jews call Torah is the Tree of Life?  Where did they keep the Torah?  In the Ark of the Covenant.  Which sits inside the Holy of Holies, behind the curtain.  Which has two cherubim on it.  Guess where we first encountered cherubim in the Text…  Genesis 3, when God sets up cherubim with a flaming sword — to guard the tree of life.

Don't believe me?  Just check the verse that follows the last and seventh “the LORD said” in the list above.  “Tell the Israelites to observe my Sabbaths.”

This is a retelling of creation.

I was standing in the desert just outside of Egypt in 2008 when my teacher, Ray VanderLaan, pointed a finger in my face and shouted, “The first time, God created the space and said, ‘You fill it.’  But that didn't work very well.  So this time God said, ‘You create the space, AND I'LL FILL IT!’ ”

Which leads me to my reflection: I believe the construction of the Tabernacle models an unspoken promise that God has made to His people.  If you will create a space in your life for God, He will fill it.  The question is, will you create a space?

What would have happened if the Israelites would have never created the Tabernacle?  The fascinating thing is that we run around like chickens with our heads cut off, filling our lives with busyness, and then we are just flabbergasted that God doesn't interrupt our days with His undeniable presence.

If we won't create a space, why would we expect God to fill it?

But if you do create the space, God will fill it.

He may not fill it the way you want or expect, but if you will create a space in your life — a discipline, an hour of listening, a sabbath rest, a location of retreat — I believe that God will fill it.

“By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:2–3)

“And so Moses finished the work.”  (Exodus 40:33)

“The Israelites had done all the work just as the the LORD had commanded Moses.  Moses inspected the work and saw that they had done it just as the LORD had commanded.  So Moses blessed them.”  (Exodus 39:42–43)

Buried in a Genealogy

The twelfth chapter of Genesis will introduce us to one of the most significant characters in the story of God's narrative.  A man by the name of Abram is approached by God and called to leave his father's household.  Such a call is much deeper in nature than simply changing locations and moving away from family.  In ancient eastern patriarchal cultures, your father's household is where you have your entire sense of identity.  Your father's household is your security and your inheritance.  It is your provision for the future, as well as your communal and relational infrastructure.  Your father's household is what helps you define your vocation, your religious identity, and your socio-economic reality.

Abram is being asked to leave it all behind.  Leave his identity behind.  Leave his understanding of the gods and of security and of ethics behind and start a new journey with this new and mysterious Creator who calls with His voice.

And most of us have a basic understanding of where this story is headed.  Abram will set out to follow the call of God and his faith will lead him to father the great nation that will become God's chosen priesthood.

But the Jews asked a question that, for them, demanded an answer.
WHY did God choose Abram?

For the western Christian, this question is futile.  The Text doesn't tell us and besides (our Sovereignty friends tell us), God gets to do what God wants.  If God wants to choose Abram and have no reason, He gets to.

But for the Jewish reader, you are not allowed to lay arbitrary statements like that on the Text in order to answer a good question.

If there is a good question, than the answer must lie in the Text.

"Well," the westerner responds, "too bad.  We meet Abram in Genesis 12 and we're not told.  Case closed."

But the easterner responds, "Ah, but we don't meet Abram in Genesis 12.  We meet Abram in the genealogy of Genesis 11."

You see, for the Jewish reader, the answer to the question lies in four verses — Genesis 11:27-30.

"This is the account of Terah.

Terah became the father of Abram, Nahor and Haran.  And Haran became the father of Lot.  While his father Terah was still alive, Haran died in Ur of the Chaldeans, in the land of his birth.  Abram and Nahor both married.  The name of Abram's wife was Sarai, and the name of Nahor's wife was Milcah; she was the daughter of Haran, the father of both Milcah and Iscah.  Now Sarai was barren; she had no children."

As usual, the early readers noted that there were a number of things amiss in this passage.  For one, why is verse 30 at the end of the passage?  That makes no sense, it should be located up where the passage speaks of Sarai in the first place.  Secondly, this passage breaks a cardinal rule of genealogical record: You don't mention women unless absolutely necessary and relevant to the genealogy.  In light of this, why is Iscah mentioned?  She has absolutely no relevance to the story.

And so the rabbis argued and argued and wrestled and wrestled.  Eventually, they told a story — a midrash — in which Abram takes a wife; but it is not Sarai that Abram marries, but Iscah.

Now why would the midrash say such a thing when the Text clearly teaches it differently?  Well, as the teachers dug into the story, they realized something.  Sarai in the Hebrew means "my princess".  If Iscah were a Chaldean (Mesopotamian) name, it would also translate "my princess".  Could it be possible that Sarai and Iscah were actually, in fact, the same person?

If this was true, then the passage all of a sudden begins to make sense.  The odd placement of verse 30 is because the entire story is actually trying to get you to realize that it's actually about Sarai/Iscah.  It also explains why the genealogy includes the name of a woman who appeared to be irrelevant to the record.

But we still haven't explained why God chose Abram.

Well, as the rabbis continued to study the passage, they also noticed how their translation had recorded the Hebrew.  The phrase, "Abram and Nahor took wives" was grammatically incorrect.  The phrase had plural subjects ("Abram and Nahor"), but a singular verb.  In other words, the Hebrew phrase read: "Abram and Nahor he took wives."

Now this wouldn't always be a call for alarm, except that we had seen this once already.  Back in the story of Noah and the vineyard, when Japheth and Shem go to cover their naked father, the same grammatical issue is seen.  "Shem and Japheth he took a garment and they laid it over their shoulders…"  So the teachers taught that when you see this grammatical "mishap", it is the author letting you know that the subjects are performing a benevolent, altruistic act and they are of one mind together as they do it.  They also noted that the first name listed gets credit for the idea.  So, in the case of Shem and Japheth, it was Shem's idea to cover Noah and the two brothers were of one mind and agreement to do this together.

If this principle applies to Genesis 11, what it would mean is that the act of taking wives for Abram and Nahor was a benevolent, altruistic act.  This immediately made sense.  Haran, the father, has died.  It is his job to provide for and marry off his daughters.  If someone does not take care of their (Abram and Nahor's) nieces, they will struggle and eventually die without legacy, community and dignity.

It is Abram's idea to marry the nieces (in their culture, this is not as weird as it sounds to us) and Nahor agrees.  They are of one mind when they do this.  What is also stunning about this teaching is that if it is Abram's idea, that means that he chooses the barren niece.

(I always have people argue with me that Abram doesn't know she is barren.  Not only do I believe that the Text implies otherwise, but the assumption would be at best an argument from silence.  Not only this, but the details in the story let us know that Sarah is as old as 60 and no younger than 40 when they marry.  In the ancient eastern world, a woman marries as soon as she menstruates.  If Sarah has not married at her age, what is the problem?  Has she not menstruated?  No matter the answer, Sarah would have been given in marriage the moment that she was believed to be fertile.  If she has not been married, she would be considered "barren".  In short, they know.)

Now, let this sink in.  We just wrapped up what I called the "preface" of the story where we began to wonder if humanity was hopeless.  We continued to demonstrate an inability to trust God's story and believe that we are OK.  It appeared that there was no hope for our depraved state.

But Abram is the first person in God's narrative to trust the story.  Because Abram believes that he has everything that he needs, he is willing to give up his own life — to lay his life down — on behalf of another.  Because Abram trusts that God is for him, he is able to leave his father's household and let God redefine his identity.  Because Abram trusts that he has inherent value, he is able to consistently walk in faith and teach his children to do the same.

God chooses Abram because he trusts the story and looks to the needs of others, not his own. 

And if people will do that, God can use them to put the world back together.  So immediately upon Abram's act of faith (or trust in a Jewish mind), God extends the call to partner with Him in putting all of creation back together.  God will use this trust time and time again to pursue wholeness in the world.

If we will trust that we have what we need and that God is for us and has given us inherent value…
If we will hear God's words to Cain in the midst of our mistakes and failures, "Why are you angry?  If you do what's right, won't you be accepted…?"
If we will trust that God has created the world good and believes that truth so much that He stopped creating and decided to rest and then invited YOU to join Him in this eternal resting and trusting...

God is still looking for partners.


*  As stated before, most of my Genesis material (this post included) is guided by the teaching of Rabbi David Fohrman; I have also tried to link some additional information in this post to show the validity of the midrashic conversation.

**  As a side note, it should be mentioned that I am not the expert for this discussion.  My information is the result of an immense amount of personal study.  I'm sure that many people would like me to link more sources, however, I do not have enough letters after my name to pose as an authority on the subject.  My purpose with this blog series is not to try to claim to be the source, but instead to simply turn people onto to the things that they can look for from the people who ARE the experts.  This is a place to learn where to start, not the source with which to finish.  I feel as though that disclaimer is important.  I believe that this wonderful "Information Age" we live in provides you with plenty of tools to check into the validity of my work and I encourage you to do so.

the PREFACE

For the next blog post, I wanted to try and visually encapsulate and show the summary of the discussion we've been having to this point:

The Tale of a Tower

I have been ruminating on this next blog post for some time, trying to come up with a way to communicate the complexities of the story as it was communicated to me.  I intentionally point out that it was "communicated to me", for the issues are so deeply rooted in the Hebrew language that I myself am most certainly not the one qualified to speak on them from a linguistic perspective.

I can make a few points that may help communicate what's taking place here.  At the risk of oversimplification, the ancient Hebrew language of the Bible is a language of consonants.  The vowels that are added to a Hebrew word act as the linguistic nuances that define "which word" we are using.  However, because the Hebrew words will share consonants, they often end up being grouped in what's been described to me as "word families" — words that share the same consonant base (the same root) and therefore are driven by a common image.

The classic example (transliterated, of course) is the Hebrew word DBR.  DBR are the consonants, obviously, and adding different vowels make different words.  DaBaR would be the Hebrew word for "speak" or "word".  DoBeR would be a word for "pasture" and miDBaR would be a related word for "wilderness" or "desert".  All of these words are using the same DBR root and the vowels are bringing the words to life.  All the words play off of the same image of shepherding.  A shepherd leads his flock in a PASTURE or in the WILDERNESS by SPEAKING a WORD.

(On a really cool side note, I have been told that when Jesus is speaking on trial before the high priest, his statement to him is a re-vowelization of two separate passages in the Psalms.  Essentially, Jesus keeps all of the consonants of the passages the same and changes the vowels [and shifts the consonants] in his response.  How well does Jesus know his Bible!?  That's astounding!)

Having tried to explain as simply as I can how the consonants of the Hebrew language work — again, noting I am not the expert in that area — I will say that the entire story of the Tower of Babel is a play on the Hebrew consonants.  I once listened to a teaching by Rabbi David Fohrman, where he recited the Hebrew and noted all of the play on words with the Hebrew consonants N'B'L'H and I was left sucking my thumb in a corner.

Needless to say, the story of the Tower, when heard in the Hebrew is chiastic.  The chiasm can best be seen in the English when you compare 10:32 with 11:8-9 and then finding the center of the chiasm in 11:4.  You can even see some of the other elements in the English when you notice the mention of "city with a tower" and even the "Come, let us..."

So why would the entire point of the story be God's desire to scatter humans over the whole earth?  Is God really threatened by their advances?

In a lot of ways, we've already let the proverbial cat out of the bag by noting that these post-flood stories are paralleling the earlier pre-flood stories.  We'll spend more time tying all of this together in the next post, but if we step back and view the last ten chapters in context, one might begin to gain some perspective on why God is so intent on scattering humanity.

God started the story by affirming the goodness of creation and inviting humanity to join Him in His rest and trust the goodness of the story.  Adam and Eve fail to trust God, fail to master their desires, and press on in pursuing themselves.  Cain is invited to trust in God's goodness and avoid the consequences that his fear (of personal loss/gain) will drive him to, but he fails as well.

God reaffirms the goodness of creation in the story of the flood and then Noah walks out of the ark and pursues revenge, stepping into the role of God — trying to become the Creator — and cursing his grandson.  In that context (and skipping a whole lot of ancient, midrashic conversation) is where we begin to find some clues.

Man's rebellion is starting to organize itself.  After eating from the Tree of Knowledge, mankind is indeed beginning to look like God, but not in a way that is helpful or beneficial to God's plan for them.  Man's rebellion started with a sense of exploration, then to self-preservation, then to revenge.  And now, God's statement is that if He doesn't step in a do something "nothing will be impossible for them".

In another sense, sin has started with an individual, moved into a family, curses an entire lineage and is now threatening to become an entire civilization.

God knows that man is not ready to exercise their creativity in it's fullness.  They haven't learned how to trust the story.  They haven't learned how to harness their desires.  They will not know "when to say enough".  They will not know when to stop destroying.

And so he scatters mankind.

A few observations to take away from this story:

This story, in one sense, is about the advancement of technology.  Humans have created the brick.  It is their new advancement in ordering creation.  It is significant to note that the advancement and progress is not a bad thing.  Within the story, God apparently has no problem with their creation of the brick, their use of the brick together, or even their building of the tower.  It is not until the people seek to "create a name" for themselves — to become like God — that God steps in to foil their plans.  The advancement of technology in our world is never the evil; we are confronted with the question of rebellion as we consider how we might USE this new piece of technology.  Will we use it further God's creative purposes to order and redeem creation?  Or will we use it further our own agenda and pursue our own unbridled desires?

Most scholars agree that the word used for Babel is a play off of the Hebrew word for confusion.  As God steps into the story, it is interesting to note what God does not do.  He does not condemn the work project in and of itself.  He does not curse anyone.  He does not deal out punishments and/or consequences for sin (as He does in Genesis 3).  What He does is confuse all of humanity with the disruption of language.

Which leads us to the question: Why would He do that?

To put it as Rabbi Fohrman so beautifully taught: It is interesting to note how in order for humanity to continue to progress as a whole, they will need to learn the language of others.  You cannot learn the language of another culture or people without learning something about their perspective.  Learning the diversity of perspectives always provides one with a sense of pause and consideration.  It requires a sense of learning how to control one's desires in order to reach a common goal together.  In the confusion of Babel, God has not so much slapped our hands as he has given us a new redemptive project that will cause us to be people that grow into the kind of humanity that bears His image.  A humanity that knows when to say enough.

A people that trust the Story.
A people that just might find a place of rest.

A Misplaced Curse

So, we've seen that the story of Noah could quite possibly be a parallel story — or a retelling — of the creation narrative of Genesis chapter one.

And Noah and his family exit the ark and Noah plants a vineyard.

Wait... Noah plants a vineyard?
Doesn't that sound eerily similar to God planting (same word) a garden?

In God's garden, Adam and Eve ate of the fruit and tragedy ensues.
In Noah's garden, he drinks the fruit and tragedy ensues...

Apparently, the parallels continue.  And not only is Noah just the "human tragedy" character in this story, but he's also seeming to blur the lines between his role and God's role.  He's not just the resident steward of the garden, but he is also the planter/creator.  But alas, I'm getting ahead of myself.


Noah drinks of the fruit and becomes drunk.  As he sleeps in his stupor, one of his sons, Ham comes in and "looks upon his father's nakedness".  He goes out to tell his brothers, who proceed to cover up their father by walking backwards with a blanket held up to their shoulders.  Then, Noah wakes up and discovers what his son has done to him.  In a rage, he curses Ham's son, Canaan...

Wait.. WHAT!?

Why in the world would Noah curse Canaan and not Ham?  That makes no sense at all.  There continues to be more problems with the Text.  And apparently, the author wants us to stop and start digging again.

To help us arrive at an answer, I'm about to explain what the Jewish midrash teaches about this story.  But before I do, I need to take a moment to talk about "midrash" — what it is and how it is used.  So prepare for a horribly oversimplified explanation of a very complex issue.  My attempt to simplify the issue is because any good Bible-believing Christian starts to get really nervous (as they should) when you start reading from extra-biblical texts for aid in biblical interpretation.  So first, an explanation for what midrash is:

The midrash is the collected, historical, Jewish conversation that surrounds the Text.  The fact of the matter is that the Bible is an ancient eastern book, in an ancient eastern world, written and read by ancient eastern people.  You and I are modern (or postmodern) western thinkers.  We have been taught for the last two-thousand years to think in terms of definition and propositions.  If a westerner wants to make a point, we write an article that has a proposition and the points that support it (deductive) or a bunch of points that arrive at a proposition (inductive).  An easterner does not think this way.  An eastener will never "tell you what to think"; an eastener wants to lead you to discovery.

So instead of a bunch of old Jews writing commentaries that tell you what to think, the ancients told additional stories that led you on additional treasure hunts and brought you to a place of discovery.  An eastener would try to convince you that you learn better and more profound truths that way.  The collection of additional stories, reflections, and commentaries is referred to as the midrash — the collected, historical, Jewish conversation that surrounds the Text.

Whether you like the method of midrash or not, this is the world of the Bible.  I pursue what I call a contextual hermeneutic, meaning that the way I interpret the Bible is that I want to understand what the writer meant when they wrote it and what the reader heard when they read it.  Essentially, I believe the correct interpretation of the inspired words is one read through the original biblical context.

This means that while I do not believe the midrash is inspired or authoritative (very important to hear me say), I do believe that one must use it as a tool to help us arrive at a contextual understanding of the inspired Text.

But enough about the academic details; back to the story (write me an email if you would like to discuss this more).


Why does Noah curse Canaan and not Ham?
The answer revolves around the phrase "saw his father's nakedness", which is a Hebrew idiom (figure of speech) that refers to one of two things.  Either Ham sexually molested his father while he was drunk or he castrated Noah.

(I have heard numerous opinions that state that the phrase is an idiom for sleeping with the father's wife.  This is based off of a reference to the same phrase used in Deuteronomy to refer to sleeping with the father's wife.  It is my historical understanding that the writer of Deuteronomy is using this idiom of molestation to refer to what you do to your father when you sleep with his wife.  You molest him — you rob him of his manhood.  But at any rate, it is somewhat irrelevant to the point...)

The midrash teaches that Ham castrated his father.

Now here is how the midrash functions.  The student is now driven to answer the question: Why would the ancients choose THAT option?  Why does it make a difference?  Why not molestation?


Do you remember those four rivers that I told you not to forget about?  I know you thought I forgot about them.  Those four rivers that seemed to have nothing to do with the story of the garden of Eden?  Well, didn't we demonstrate earlier that this story is paralleling the story of the garden?

A river and it's tributaries is often an image of the genealogical lineage of a family.  Jewish conversation will often refer to the branches of a family line as "tributaries".  Isn't it interesting that the story that parallels this story of Noah's garden is a story with rivers and the story of Noah (read the rest of chapter nine and all of chapter ten) is all about his descendants?

There is one problem.  There were four rivers.
Noah has three sons.

What was the only repeated command given to Noah upon his departure from the ark?
"Be fruitful and multiply..."

Noah is supposed to have more children.

This is why the midrash teaches that Ham castrated Noah; Ham has robbed his father of his ability to have children.

Why does Noah curse Canaan and not Ham?
Revenge.

It's as if Noah is saying, "You've robbed me of my children.  May I rob you of yours!"

I believe, if we listen, we can hear God's continued invitation to Noah: "Noah, stop!  I know you are angry, but just trust the story.  Don't hurt innocence!  Don't seek revenge!  It's not as if you MUST have children in order for me to love you.  Let me be God — let me deal with justice."

But Noah is blurring the lines between the Creator and the created.  Noah curses Canaan and the Hebrew word used for curse — 'arar — is only attributed to God throughout the Scriptures.  Noah is the only human being that ever uses 'arar in the Bible.

It's the same story, over and over again.  God keeps affirming the goodness of creation, His love for all creation, and His acceptance of people.  The characters, however, keep showing us that they are incapable of mastering their desires.  They don't seem to be able to tap into their 'God image-ness' and find the rest that God intended in Genesis one.

Adam.
Eve.
Cain.
Noah.

"Trust the story." God might say, "I declared you good and made you in my image.  Just rest in my goodness and my declaration that you are enough and what I've given you is enough.  Just trust that there is enough.  Let me be the Creator.  Just rest!  Adam and Eve — rest!  Cain, why are you angry?  Let it go and rest!  Noah, I know why you are angry, but just rest!  Don't make it worse, make it better."




Maybe it will get better when man creates the brick and starts building towers...

His Bow in the Clouds

While there is a lesson (or two or ten) surrounding the genealogies that follow the story of Cain and Abel.  For the sake of keeping this train moving, I'm going to skip to the story of Noah and the flood.  I'm sure we will touch on the genealogies in some other areas.  It takes a lot of work to explain the concept of genealogy to a westerner in a way that they appreciate it and I'd like to keep the conversation moving on the trajectory we are on.  Just let it be known that genealogies are NOT simply a waste of space.  For the Jewish people, the genealogies are the best part of the narrative!

Nevertheless, the story continues.  And it's worth noting that after God took the world from tohu va'vohu (chaos) and brought it into order in Genesis one, the characters of the story have been slowly bringing the order back into chaos.  First with a person, then to a family, then to a whole family lineage, and then to a whole humanity.   The story of Noah begins with God declaring that mankind has become too corrupt and it is time to start over -- He's going to wipe the slate clean.

Now, before I get accused of running past one of the glaring points we ignore — the massacre of all humanity — let me make an observation that we'll expound on in later posts.  This story, for the ancient reader, is an obvious juxtaposition against their own well-known folklore.  The recipients of Genesis are from the ancient land of Mesopotamia.  One of the most famous ancient works of literature is the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh (EoG), which significantly predates Genesis.  The whole story of Noah is supposed to be held against the EoG.

At one point in the EoG, the main character becomes aware time and time again of the gods' plan to destroy the earth.  As Gilgamesh faces the prospects of death, he begins a search for immortality which leads him to another character, Utnapishtim.  Utnapishtim builds a large boat, loads it with his relatives and all species of animals and survives the Great Deluge.  At the end of the story, Utnapishtim even sends out birds to find dry land.


Now, the differences within the juxtaposition are striking.  Instead of the main characters running from, outsmarting, and defeating angry gods, the Biblical story has God partnering with man and having man assist Him in saving creation.  And that one point alone is worth putting in your cap.  God is not angry, He's looking for partners.  It's not a story of massacre.  It's a story of salvation.

But I digress.  Back to the story.

So God decides to start over in a sense and the sixth chapter of Genesis is where God returns creation back to its state of watery chaos.  The deluge reminds us of where the story began.  In fact, there are numerous parallels between the story of the flood and of the creation story of Genesis one.  After God brings creation back to tohu va'vohu, we find the Spirit of God once again blowing over the waters (compare 1:2 with 8:1, keeping in mind that "wind" is the same exact word for "spirit" [ruach; spirit, wind, breath]).  We find that the waters are being separated, the dry land appearing, birds being released and beasts being turned loose (many rabbis go to great length to show the seven days of creation paralleled in Genesis eight).  We also hear the same refrain to "be fruitful and multiply" (9:1) and even the command "you must not eat" being repeated (9:4).  This is the story of creation — or maybe of REcreation.

But what is the point of this creation story?  The first creation story was a chiasm.  This creation story happens to be a chiasm as well.  There are a few ways I could go about pointing it out, but I'll pick on of the easiest ways for a western reader to see it.  If one pays attention to the numbers of the story, particularly the numbers related to "days", they begin to immediately see the mirroring effect.

Seven days (7:4) 
Seven days (7:10) 
Forty days (7:17) 
Hundred and fifty days (7:24)
Hundred and fifty days (8:3)
Forty days (8:6)
Seven days (8:10)
Seven days (8:12)

What this means is that the "treasure" buried in Noah's story is 8:1-3a.

"But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded.  Now the springs of the deep and the floodgates of the heavens had been closed, and the rain had stopped falling from the sky.  The waters receded steadily from the earth."

Now the story is bookended with talk about covenant (see 6:18 and 9:9).  So the Jews teach that when God remembers Noah, He is remembering the covenant He promised to make with Noah.  They also notice that the end of the story is a diatribe about this Noahic covenant.  Just read 9:9 through 9:17 and listen to how much repetition there is concerning covenant.

No, really.  You should stop reading this and read Genesis 9:9-17.


Now, if you just did that, you may have noticed something else.  Did Genesis 9:9-17 seem chiastic to you?  That's because it is!  the center of that chiasm ends up being 9:13-14 (I know that I'm starting to lose the typical reader who has been taught to analyze the propositions of the Text, but hang with me!).  God says He'll put his bow in the clouds; that when the clouds come He will remember — sounds like the center of the Noah story!

What is all of this about remembering?
And why is this story paralleling creation?

Because we are learning the same lesson about God (from Genesis one) all over again.  God is reaffirming the goodness of creation.  God said that He would put his bow (not a "rainbow" in the Hebrew, but a bow) in the clouds.  What is a bow?  It is a weapon of destruction.  You see, God is demonstrating His ability to know when to say enough. 

The first time, God knew when to stop creating.
This time, God knows when to stop destroying.

God knows when to say enough.  God is FOR creation, not against it.  We're being invited to trust the story — again.  Do we view God as an angry deity that needs to be escaped (grab your Epics of Gilgamesh!)?  Or is He a god that thinks creation is good and keeps promising that we can find rest for our souls?


I wonder how Noah will respond to God's invitation to trust the story…

Crouching at the Door

The story continues and Adam and Eve have two sons -- Cain and Abel.  The story tells us that the firstborn son is name Cain (Cayin in the Hebrew).  This name means "I have acquired".  It appears as though, through the name, Eve is acknowledging that she has learned a lesson from her previous experience in the garden.  One could say that in the last story, Eve became obsessed with her own creativity and refused to trust God's greater story -- that He had already created a good creation.  The name of Cain seems to imply that she recognizes that fact that she is not the one who created her son, but instead she has "acquired" him.  She even says in first verse of chapter four, "With the help of the LORD I have brought forth a man."

Tempting to launch into a deep word study of the name Cayin, but for the sake of brevity, let's move on.

It's important to note that, in Hebrew thought, the name of an individual describes their essence.  Your name is who you are.  So, Eve naming her son Cain is more than just a statement about what she has learned.  It is also a statement about who Cain will become.  What will acquiring have to do with Cain's identity and life struggle?  This will be crucial as we continue listening to the story.

The story tells us that Abel is a shepherd and Cain is a farmer -- a typical place for an ancient Sumerian tell about creation to begin.  Two of the most ancient professions of humanity.  We are told that they both bring offerings to God and that God takes a liking to Abel's offering and doesn't particularly care for Cain's. 

That is all we are told.
This is important; as most westerners immediately want to begin speculating as to what was wrong with the sacrifice.  Speculation that's not based in historical context is always dangerous.  The important thing here is that the author doesn't tell us why the sacrifice isn't as acceptable.  There may or may not be hints within the Text as to why, but we need to be careful that we don't miss the details of what IS in the Text.  Apparently, the author does not want us to fixate on the content of the sacrifice, but the motivations of Cain (psst... remember his name?  That isn't just fluffy detail that is insignificant...).

Also, it's very important to note what the author does NOT say.
He does NOT say why the sacrifice is less acceptable.
He does NOT say that God is mad.  Or displeased.  Or even frustrated.
It does NOT say that Cain has sinned.
It simply says that two guys brought two sacrifices and God liked one more than the other.  He does NOT chastise Cain or reprimand him at all; in fact, the story proceeds much differently.

Now, pause in the story and let one problem sink in.  Just like in Genesis 1 and just like in Genesis 2-3, this story has problems -- things that just aren't right.  To use an illustration from Rabbi David Fohrman, what kind of a dad would have two sons and when the two sons brought two pictures to him -- one clearly more desirable than the other -- would make his opinion of the two pictures known?  Wouldn't any father acknowledge the loving motivations of the two sons and treat both pictures evenly, placing them both on the refrigerator door?

What kind of a God are we dealing with here?
Some people would say this is what is wrong with religion.

OR, is the author trying to draw us into that very question?  What kind of God are we dealing with here?

I wonder if Cain's name has anything to do with this?

Now, the story tells us that Cain is concerned about God's liking of his brother's sacrifice and that "his face was downcast".  Again, pause button.  Why is Cain upset?  Is he upset about his sacrifice?  His response will be to kill his brother (spoiler alert), so apparently it has to do with Abel.  Is it that God likes Abel more?  But why does he have to kill the brother?  What about his name -- "I have acquired"?

Does Cain have an innate awareness that his entire livelihood comes at the blessing of God?  As a farmer, does he know how badly he needs the sun and rain, things that he knows he has no control over?  Things that he knows he is at the mercy of God to receive?  In order to ACQUIRE, doesn't he need God's blessing?

You see, his brother Abel is a threat.  If Abel keeps giving good gifts, than he will likely begin to steal God's favor.  At this point, Cain would be in danger of no longer acquiring good things.  Abel must be removed from the equation.

But God comes and insists that the exact opposite is true.  His response to Cain is one of my favorite questions of God in the Text: "Cain, why are you angry?  Why is your face downcast?  If you do what is right, will you not be accepted?"

God tells Cain he is just fine.  He doesn't like Abel more.  He doesn't like Cain less.  His evaluation of their offerings had no effect on their standing before Him.  If Cain simply lets it go and heads into tomorrow, he will be accepted.

He is already accepted.
He has everything that he needs.

Sound familiar?
It's almost like Genesis 1...

Cain is being invited to trust the story.  The same invitation that was issued to his parents is now being issued to him.  Apparently, even our mistakes and our shortcomings (dare I say even our sin), don't keep us from God's love and acceptance.  Cain is being invited to trust in God's love, to enter His rest, and let it go.  Write a new tomorrow.

And did you notice God's next statement right where we left off?  "If you don't do what's right, sin is crouching at your door.  It's desire is for you, but you must master it."  There's that idea of mastering your desires again.  Apparently, Cain is being invited to learn the very lesson his parents needed to learn.  You are not a beast.  You are made in the image of the God who knows when to say enough.  You can master your desires.

Don't be obsessed with your creativity Cain.  You will acquire.  God will take care of you.  Master your desires and your doubts about God's love for you.  Don't murder your brother because of your need to create -- to acquire.

We all know how the story ends, Cain kills his brother, refusing to trust the story and leading the narrative into tragedy.  He receives the consequences of his actions and then passes it down to his children.  Of course, there will be "another son" of Adam -- but now I'm getting into the next blog post...


Yet, the story begs us to make some basic observations.  Sometimes life hands us situations where what we have to offer is just simply not as good as it could be.  Sometimes we mess up.  Sometimes we flat out sin.  Sometimes we feel as though God's just not paying attention to us anymore and we begin to wonder if we're somehow dropping down the list of God's noticeables.

But God continues to insist that acceptance is ours.  He continues to invite us to trust His story and enter His place of rest for our souls.  He looks at our moments of personal frustration (even failures) and His words to Cain echo through the ages to our own ears: "Why are you angry?  Why is your face downcast?  Just do what's right RIGHT NOW.  Acceptance is yours.  Move on."

Trust the story.


**  Again, as will be true of much of my material on the Torah, Rabbi David Fohrman was a major shaper of my thinking and leader to almost all of the questions raised by the Text in Genesis.

The God that Knows When to Say Enough

And so the story moves on and we're told more about this creation of man that God made in His image and declared to be good.

We're introduced to a garden -- Eden ("delight") as God calls it -- and told that it is full of trees that are pleasing to the eye and good for food.  We are told about two trees in particular: the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Then we're told about four rivers in one of the weirdest additions to the biblical text that I've ever found.  Outside of mystical interpretations (which may be completely legitimate, but not my textual "go-to-punch"), this paragraph appears to be nonsensical, irrelevant, wasteful, and a complete detraction from the current biblical narrative.  But, hold onto that thought, because no word is wasted -- it will come back in a later post.

God commands man not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and then makes a partner suitable for him.  She is taken from his ribs -- the innermost parts of him -- and is said to be his ezer k'negdo.  This term translates as the "help that opposes" (perhaps more on this later, but not for this post).  When God presents her to Adam, he names her "woman", a term that speaks of who she is.

We're then told that they are both naked.

This idea comes up a lot in the story, by the way.  The author seems to be particularly interested in this fact that doesn't seem to have too much relevance outside of explaining our incessant need for clothing.  At the beginning, we are told they are naked.  They eat from the tree and realize they are naked.  They hide from God and when God confronts them the main point Adam feels compelled to bring up is his nakedness.  Then God makes skins to cover their nakedness.

But there are other problems with the story, aren't there?

What about this tree?  It is called the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and yet -- it is not.  Eve has a perfectly good understanding of good and evil.  She explains to the snake that she is not to eat of the tree -- that doing so would be wrong.  And even if that is not true, how can God justly punish a person who did not obtain the knowledge necessary to make the appropriate decision.  Justly, He would only be able to punish her on the SECOND time she ate from the tree; this is the only time she would have possessed the knowledge necessary to act in disobedience.

And why does Adam name Eve twice?  At the end of the story, he names her Eve.  But she already had a perfectly functioning name given to her by Adam -- Woman.

And how about this snake?  Why does nobody seem to be bothered by a talking snake? 

You see, this story is full of problems.  Much like the story of Genesis 1.  And any Jew would tell you that when there are problems in a story, grab a shovel, because there is more going on and you need to start digging. 

Well, to be fair, you don't hear the story in the original language.  So you don't hear one of the triggers inherent in the story.

Remember the idea of nakedness that seems to keep coming up over and over again in the story?  And do you remember the idea of chiasm from the last post?  Well, sure enough, this story is a chiasm as well.  The story begins with Adam naming her Woman and them being naked.  The story end with Adam naming her Eve and their nakedness being covered.  And in the middle of the story?  They eat from the tree, their eyes are opened, and they realize they are naked.  The whole story is about nakedness -- somehow.

Well, the Hebrew word for "naked" is 'arowm and the word for "nakedness" (used in the rest of the story) is 'eyrom.

And if you were listening to verse 3:1 in the Hebrew, you would have heard that the serpent was "crafty" or 'aruwm.  The word is so close to the word for naked, you almost wouldn't have noticed the difference at first. 

Not only this, but the story keeps trying to make the serpent look awfully like the humans.  The serpent can talk.  The serpent can walk (Didn't think the snake was walking? God's curse is that it would crawl on it's belly for the rest of its days).  The serpent can reason and argue.  The serpent can relate.

So, why is the author trying to make the serpent like the naked humans?  It's almost as if the author is begging the question: What makes a human different from an animal?  Try to answer that question and look at the above paragraph.  All of the things we would typically say to answer that question don't work within the Genesis story.

Did we notice anything else about the story that was amiss?  Did you notice what Eve saw when she looked at the tree?  God had said that all the trees of the garden were pleasing to the eye and good for food.  But when Eve looked at the tree, she saw that it was "pleasing to the eye, good for food, and desirable..."

The rabbis teach that the difference between man and beast is desire.  Think about it.  When an animal wants to eat, what does it do?  It eats.  An animal is not capable of practicing self-restraint.  This is actually the temptation of Eve.  The serpent tempts her to think that she is no different than an animal.  "God put the tree in the garden.  It's pleasing and good.  Just eat it.  God gave you desire for it, didn't He?  How could He give you desire and not want you to act?  You're just a beast like me."

You remember the invitation of Genesis 1?  To trust the story.  To trust that creation is good enough.  There is nothing more that God could do.  God's not holding out on you.



Adam and Eve are being invited to trust the story.  Yes, the tree is pleasing and good -- and desirable.  But you can trust that creation is good enough.  You can trust and rest.



One of the other answers to the question, what makes humans different from animals is that we are made in the image of God.  That is the right answer, but it simply leads to another question.  What does it mean to be made in God's image?


One of the names for God is "El Shaddai".  We translate that a lot of ways in the English, but it is very difficult to translate accurately.  The ancient rabbis said that the name literally should translate "the God that knows when to say enough".


And that's who He was in Genesis 1.  He knew when to say "enough".  He looked out at creation and He said, "It's very good.  I'm done."  He didn't rest because He needed a nap or was exhausted.  He rested because there was nothing else to do.  If He kept creating, He would actually destroy creation.  He knew when to say "enough".



You are made in the image of God.  You are built to be capable of saying "enough".  You aren't an animal.  You can control your desires.  But controlling your desires and saying "enough" is only an option if you trust the story.


God told His people in Genesis 1 that they had value, worth, and acceptance just because of who they ARE and not for what they produce.  Did you notice the two names of Woman/Eve?  The first name (before the tree) was all about her essence; who she was.  The second name (after the tree) was all about what she could produce.  It's the tragedy of not trusting the story.  We become people driven by our desires -- most importantly, our desire to be accepted.  And so we go and we go and we go.  We produce and we produce and we work and we impress and we do and we do.



But God invites us to trust the story.  God invites us to rest from our incessant need to be "human doings" rather than human beings.  God invites us to be made in His image and tell our desires enough -- they cannot rule over us.


Will you trust the story?

Will you enter God's rest?

Are you able to say "enough" to your deepest desires?

You are more than a beast.


**  There are parts of this post that were formed from the teachings of Rabbi David Fohrman and his multi-part teaching "Serpents of Desire".

SABBATH: A Trust Story

Thanks to all of you who contributed to the discussion from my last blog post.  Most of you talked to me or messaged me in private and I appreciated all of your perspective.  Some of my favorite conversation from multiple people spoke of how feelings and emotions helped you know that you are alive.

I think that I am going to start blogging more and more about some of my thoughts on theology and biblical interpretation.  My main goal with this blog has been to keep people (especially our supporters) updated on our ministry.  This will remain one of my primary concerns.  However, I also feel the need to keep my blog active, as people quit visiting a blog once it becomes dormant.  I have always stayed away from matter of theology and teaching because I have not wanted to seek out controversy.  Yet, what has happened instead is that my blog has been a few things: first of all, it has been forced at times as I've felt as though I "have to say something" versus "having something to say".  Secondly, it has not been a true reflection of myself as God has created me to be; I am a teacher and a theologian at heart.  Finally, my blog has disappointed some, who have expected it to be more theological and provocative, just based on knowing me personally.

That being said, I will continue to keep you updated on our ministry throughout my postings here.  I will also attempt to use much tact and grace in my theological musings.  Knowing my history, I will fail miserably and will continue to grow in that.

So, with no further ado -- let's start in the beginning.



"In the beginning, God created..."

The Bible begins with a creation story that we read in the first chapter of Genesis (tailing into the first few verses of the second chapter as well).  The story has a few notable characteristics.

The refrain of God seeing the goodness of creation.  Over and over again, God sees that creation is good.

This refrain seems to create a crescendo of sorts -- culminating in the creation of man; as God looks out over everything He has made, He sees that it is VERY good.

The first part of this creation poem (this is an ancient, chiastic, Mesopotamian poem) mirrors the second half.  On the first three days, God separates (light from darkness, waters above from waters below, land from sea) and the next three days, God fills what He has separated (place of light/darkness is filled with sun, moon, and stars; place of waters is filled with birds/fish, land is filled with beasts/humans).  Day One corresponds to Day Four, Day Two to Day Five, and Day Three with Day Six.

As you examine the above paragraph, it becomes strikingly clear that this poem is not about HOW creation happened (evolution v. creationism), it is about WHAT happened and WHO did it.  The days are called days; yet we, as a human race, have only measured a day one way -- the movement of the sun -- which isn't made until the fourth day.  How then, do we know that the first three days are even days?  This leads to another observation...

The other refrain ("it was evening and it was morning") is backwards.  Is the author trying to grab our attention?  Is he trying to say something about the way we understand a day?  Our existence?

Speaking of this latter refrain, it is missing from the seventh day.  Why?  It's almost as if the seventh day never ends; it just hangs out off the end of the story as if it goes on into eternity.

The story seems to be about creating and resting.
The story starts with a sense of nothingness. "Now the earth was formless and void (tohu va'vohu)"  tohu va'vohu in the Hebrew means "chaotic nothingness".
The story ends with a sense of nothingness.  God rests and does nothing.
The story is definitely about something being GOOD.

How do we pull all of these problems together?  In ancient eastern literature, authors did not have propositions.  The western world introduced us to propositional thought.  The ancient eastern world told stories as an art form.  It was a way of conveying truth -- not through proposition, but through self discovery.  They buried truth as a treasure within a story.  Finding truth was always work for the hearer/reader.  You had to go find it.

In order to lead the hearers on this treasure hunt, the ancient authors used tools to help give clues to the treasure hunter.  One of the most commonly utilized tools of their day (especially in the Scriptures) is what we call "chiastic" literature.  The story ends up being split in the middle with the first half mirroring the second half.  This creates an ABC CBA or even an ABC ABC structure (Genesis 1 happens to be BOTH; in content, as we have already seen, it is ABC ABC [Day 1 corresponds to Day 4, 2 to 5 and 3 to 6]; however, in amount of content, it will be ABC CBA [Day 1 is a baby paragraph, Day 2 is a mommy paragraph, Day 3 is a daddy paragraph, Day 4 = daddy, Day 5 = mommy, Day 6 would be baby, except for the creation of mankind, which happens to be the point of the poem]).

Once one has found the chiastic structure, they are able to find the center of the poem -- this is important, for the center of the poem will be the buried treasure for the hearer.  If one counts Hebrew words, they find that the center of the poem happens to be the Hebrew word moad (translated "seasons"; Day 4).  This happens to be one of the Hebrew words that we will translate "sabbaths" -- which is exactly what God does on the seventh day.

So, how do we use this eastern treasure to pull together all of our observations from before?  Why is moad the buried treasure for the hearers? 

Who are the hearers?  They are a recently rescued nation of slaves who have, for 400 years, been making bricks.  They have been told that their entire value and worth is wrapped up in what they are able to produce (bricks).  This God comes and the first story He tells them is a story is an invitation to take a break -- a Sabbath -- and rest.

He insists that creation -- themselves in particular -- is good.
He invites them to stop working and trust that they are loved, valued and accepted just because of who they ARE -- not for what they DO.
He tells them that this seventh day rest has no end, but that it goes on forever.

God invites the ancient Israelites to see the world through a new set of lenses.  He invites them to believe that He sees them as GOOD -- made in the image of the Creator.  He tells them to quit trying to find their value in what they are able to do and produce.  But instead, they should stop working and REST.

He tells them, over and over again, that the story is good.
And He invites them to trust the story.

Quit trying to appease an angry God.
Quit trying to impress and please and become and do and prove yourself.


Why does each day end with "it was evening and it was morning"?
For a Jew, the day begins at sundown -- not at sunrise.
The rabbis teach that this is because God wants your day to begin with REST and not PRODUCTION.

You are invited to trust the story and see creation differently.



It will be incredibly important that we start the story HERE and not with the fall.
To start with God's goodness and not our crappiness.


But more on that later :)


** I am obviously pulling much of my material from Rob Bell in sources like "Everything is Spiritual" and "Beginning in the Beginning".   I also pull a lot of thoughts from Rabbi David Fohrman.  I am indebted to the work of countless other people that I have researched endlessly over the years.  This is not my own.  There have been some dominant voices that have given rise to many of my thoughts and I will work hard to give credit to those voices in my posts.