Thursday, January 27, 2011
Peeing on Professorial Doors
Ok...I started laughing out loud when I saw this: Professor pees on another professor's door. Nothing like inner-departmental politics.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Moses on the Mount: Visions of the "Pattern" of the Tabernacle
Here's an announcement for a public presentation I will be giving next week at Illinois Wesleyan University. If there is anyone within driving distance who can make it, we'll have a good time!
Monday, Jan. 31, 4 p.m., CLA 205 -- Visiting Assistant Professor of Religion Jared Calaway will present the Religion Department Colloquium, "Moses on the Mount: Visions of the 'Pattern' of the Tabernacle in Jewish and Christian Literature."
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Gilgamesh on Stage
The earliest epic is now on stage at Bushwick Starr Theater in Brooklyn, NY:
The wooden staircase you climb to get to the Bushwick Starr theater has more character than some entire plays. You're rewarded for the climb—through January 30, anyway—with a strenuous, rewarding journey through the ancient Sumerian-Akkadian Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the earliest works of literature in history. Sumerian legends told of a semi-divine hero-king, Gilgamesh, who tyrannized his subjects in the city of Uruk until they pleaded with the gods for help. In response they created Enkidu, a primitive man of great strength who lived in the forest with the beasts until being seduced by a temple harlot into coming to Uruk to be a companion to Gilgamesh.
A different actor plays Gilgamesh in each "tablet," all ably, while Enkidu remains in the sure hands of the very physical actor who goes by the name of Eugene the Poogene. Cherrye J. Davis is notably authoritative as the jealous goddess Ishtar, and KT Peterson has a fabulous time with the role of Shamhat the temple priestess/prostitute. But the whole ensemble is strong, and despite Eugene's frequent key presence and consistent physicality—he even switches to another role late in the proceedings—and the numerous scenes with just a couple of characters, the whole thing has the flow of an ensemble piece.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Obituary for Robert Markus
The Guardian has an obituary for the eminent scholar of medieval Europe, Robert Markus, who, along with his intellectual sparring partner Peter Brown, established the idea of Late Antiquity as a period of intellectual and social effervescence.
Robert Markus, who has died of cancer at the age of 86, was among the finest historians of his generation. He helped establish the idea of Late Antiquity as a distinct and exceptionally creative period of European history, bridging the fall of the western Roman Empire and the early Middle Ages. He stressed the importance of Christianity's beliefs, but always had an eye to the material and social structures in which it was practised.
Ancient Codices Online: Aleppo
While prepping for my lecture on textual transmission and scribal practices, I came across a website that I had never seen before today.
I generally use the Codex Sinaiticus online to illustrate a few points (it is a fairly good hand, but still shows evidence of accidental scribal error; its shows students that ancient scribes didn't use spaces; its Gospel of John lacks 7:53-8:12, etc.), but I was very happy to see that there is a website where one can view the manuscript of the Aleppo Codex, which, along with the Leningrad Codex, are the two most important Hebrew witnesses to the Hebrew Bible. So check out the Aleppo Codex here, and I will add it to my sidebar.
I generally use the Codex Sinaiticus online to illustrate a few points (it is a fairly good hand, but still shows evidence of accidental scribal error; its shows students that ancient scribes didn't use spaces; its Gospel of John lacks 7:53-8:12, etc.), but I was very happy to see that there is a website where one can view the manuscript of the Aleppo Codex, which, along with the Leningrad Codex, are the two most important Hebrew witnesses to the Hebrew Bible. So check out the Aleppo Codex here, and I will add it to my sidebar.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Year's Birth
"To be born again...first you have to die.... To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly." (Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses)
Friday, December 24, 2010
A Useful Tannenbaum
Evidently, an artist is seeking recycled Christmas trees in London in order to turn them into wood three-legged stools. See here. It is a good idea, but they are being sold for $621 a piece. Frankly, I think I could make my own Christmas stool.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
To Ascend in Flame: To See God and Live 2
Yesterday I wrote a post on seeing God and living, even though none should be able to see God (at least face to face) and live. Yet there are many passages in which Jacob, Moses, elders, Hagar, and Manoah and his wife all see God and live and comment upon the fact in astonishment. I had left the discussion of Manoah and his wife until this time because it is quite an extensive, quite astonishing, and under-studied passage.
Some initial issues of note: this is one of two passages in which a woman is the primary recipient of the vision of the LORD/Angel of the LORD. It is a special birth narrative comparable to the one of Abram/Sarai, Hannah, perhaps Hagar, and one in which, like Hannah, I think makes an impression on the Jesus birth narratives with the angel's visitations to Mary and then Joseph. But there is so much more to this passage.
Quoting from the RSV:
For most, the interest of the passage is for the miracle of the birth of Samson, the promised Nazirite. It is for this reason, in fact, that she is commanded not to drink wine or "strong drink," which, as a recent archaeological article argues, just means beer, rather than any birth defects that we, as moderns, associate with drinking alcoholic beverages while pregnant. There is a gendered aspect to this passage. The story starts out with a discussion of Manoah--the male is the named marker. His wife remains unnamed throughout the entire story, yet she is the one who is vouchsafed the initial vision. This is what differentiates this birth narrative from, for example, Sarai's--when the three men come to Abram and Sarai and she laughs--or even Hannah's, in which the communication is decidedly one way--Hannah prays to God, but God does not answer, unless Eli's answer counts as such. And this is what makes this miraculous birth story much closer to the ones in the Gospels. Of course, the Gospel of Luke's Magnificat is based upon Hannah's prayer, but it is in response to a vision from an angel (here Gabriel) giving the message of a miraculous birth: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus" (Luke 1:30-31). In Luke, she sees the vision rather than Joseph. In Matthew, however, Mary is just stated to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit and Joseph receives a vision only when he is about to separate from her privately (Matt. 1:18-25). So Mary gets the vision in Luke; Joseph in Matthew. This makes our passage in Judges a little more unique, since both Manoah and his wife receive a vision successively (you can only do this with the gospels by harmonization). Nonetheless, in these two stories we get a vision of an angel giving a message of the miraculous birth, a quite stunning vision, as Manoah's wife says:
In what follows she repeats the message of the angel to her husband. This passage resembles Genesis 32 in some ways. The figure seen is a "man" of God (Gen. 32:24), its uses "God' rather than "LORD/YHWH" in the dialogue, and there is the issue of the unknown name (Gen. 32:29). Moreover, the "man of God" looks like an "angel of God"; that is, the appearance was terrible. If Ezekiel 1 is any indication with the living creatures/cherubim, these would be frightening. This tradition persists, since the Angel Gabriel has to tell Mary not to be afraid (Luke 1:30), as well as Zechariah (1:12-13) and the shepherds (2:9-10). Angels are supposed to be glorious, frightening, and "terrible." She also did not ask "whence he was," where he came from. Does she doubt the angel's origin with God? He looks like a messenger of God...but was he...
Manoah then entreats God:
Manoah's petition is successful; God listens to him. Once again, Manoah's wife is the contact person, however. So, while Manoah can successfully speak to God, God sends his messenger to Manoah's wife.: "and the angel of God came again to the woman as she sat in the field; but Manoah her husband was not with her. And the woman ran in haste and told her husband, 'Behold, the man who came to me the other day has appeared to me.'" (Judges. 13:9-10).
Subsequently, the Manoah comes to the man/angel of God and questions him of how to take care of the boy. The angel/man simply answers: "Of all that I said to the woman let her beware..." and then he repeats what he said to her. The man/angel basically says that his message to Manoah's wife was sufficient. Manoah, it seems, either was looking for more information, or wanted to hear for himself.
The next part is particularly interesting. Manoah asks the "angel of the LORD" to stay and they will prepare a kid for him, offering hospitality. The angel refuses to eat with Manoah and his wife, but instead tells them to offer a burnt offering to the LORD (Judges. 13:15-16). The parenthetical remark is what is initially startling: "For Manoah did not know that he was the angel of the LORD." This presumably explains why the angel refuses to eat with the humans, although this is no obstacle in Gen. 18:1-8. So this raises a question of whom Manoah thought this figure whom his wife described as a "man of God" like the "angel of God" because his appearance was "terrible." Perhaps a lesser angel? Perhaps just a striking prophetic human? Some sort of intermediate being? By using so many terms, this passage perhaps creates a bit of confusion: man, man of God, angel of God, angel of the LORD are all applied to this figure. Why were they willing to follow this figure's orders if they did not know "whence he was" and who he was? Any supernal being will do? There is a similar human/divine slippage also present in the Jacob passage in which the "man" becomes revealed as God. Or perhaps an unfolding revelation of identity.
Much like the Jacob passage, the issue of the name comes up once again:
In both Gen. 32 and here, the man/angel/god(?) refuses to give the name. Here the reason is given that it is wonderful. It is over-awing. It also reveals a bit of Manoah's cautiousness toward the figure: the proof of the pudding is in the eating. He wants to know the name (who is this figure, and where does he come from?) so that after these things come true they can honor him (as man, as angel, as god?). If/when these things come to pass--proving the prophecy/revelation true--they will honor him. There is a tinge of doubt in the conditional.
The next part is quite astonishing. Manoah sets up the altar and takes the kid with a cereal offering. He offers it to the LORD, "to him who works wonders.":
The angel of God/the LORD uses the flame of the burnt offering as a transportation device--he ascends through the flame of the offering. I cannot think of another biblical source in which an angel ascends through the flames of an offering. If there is a source, I would be happy to hear of it. And this is the proof that Manoah needs. For the first time in the passage, they both fall to the ground with their faces to the ground in a position of reverence. Due to this fiery ascent, they seem to have figured out the whence and who of the angel, and do not need to wait for the birth for proof to honor this figure who is now clearly not a man.
There is a certain irony in the passage. As long as Manoah doubts and they both do not quite know the identity of the figure, the figure stays. When they intuit that it is the (angel of the) LORD or God (made clear through the fantastic fire-traveling trick), they no longer see the figure. Manoah then picks up the tradition of not being able to see God and live (as seen with Jacob, Moses, Hagar, and most recently with Gideon), but his wife reassures that is not the case. If God was going to kill them, it would cancel the message given. So God has to make exceptions to the rule for the case of revelation (one can't reveal something to someone for a particular purpose and kill them before fulfilling that purpose, even give the fact that one should not be able to see God and live). And, what is more, it is just bad manners: God accepted their offerings, it would be rude to kill them after that.
In all, Manoah's wife is the primary recipient of a vision of God/angel of God/angel of the LORD/ the LORD (they are equivalent in the passage) and the primary interpreter of that message. Manoah himself is there to seek reassurance from the figure (who tells him basically to listen to what he already told his wife), offer some hospitality, and set up the offering, which turns out to be the angel of God/the LORD's transportation home. He offers some doubt as well--as to the figure's identity and, once the identity is intuited, of whether they will live. It is here that his wife, the original recipient of the message, offers reassurance, since the message needs to be fulfilled.
All in all, Manoah and his wife are privileged company because they saw a vision of God (or angel of God). While God often pops in and out in Genesis, God is much more distant in Judges. Only Manoah, his wife, and Gideon are vouchsafed with such a terrible vision.
Some initial issues of note: this is one of two passages in which a woman is the primary recipient of the vision of the LORD/Angel of the LORD. It is a special birth narrative comparable to the one of Abram/Sarai, Hannah, perhaps Hagar, and one in which, like Hannah, I think makes an impression on the Jesus birth narratives with the angel's visitations to Mary and then Joseph. But there is so much more to this passage.
Quoting from the RSV:
And there was a certain man of Zorah, of the tribe of Danites, whose name was Manoah; and his wife was barren and had no children. And the angel of the LORD appeared to the woman and said to her, "Behold you are barren and have no children; but you shall conceive and bear a son. Therefore beware, and drink no wine or strong drink, and eat nothing unclean, for lo, you shall conceive and bear a son. No razor shall come upon his head, for the boy shall be a Nazirite to God from birth; and he shall begin to deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines. (Judges 13:2-5)
For most, the interest of the passage is for the miracle of the birth of Samson, the promised Nazirite. It is for this reason, in fact, that she is commanded not to drink wine or "strong drink," which, as a recent archaeological article argues, just means beer, rather than any birth defects that we, as moderns, associate with drinking alcoholic beverages while pregnant. There is a gendered aspect to this passage. The story starts out with a discussion of Manoah--the male is the named marker. His wife remains unnamed throughout the entire story, yet she is the one who is vouchsafed the initial vision. This is what differentiates this birth narrative from, for example, Sarai's--when the three men come to Abram and Sarai and she laughs--or even Hannah's, in which the communication is decidedly one way--Hannah prays to God, but God does not answer, unless Eli's answer counts as such. And this is what makes this miraculous birth story much closer to the ones in the Gospels. Of course, the Gospel of Luke's Magnificat is based upon Hannah's prayer, but it is in response to a vision from an angel (here Gabriel) giving the message of a miraculous birth: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus" (Luke 1:30-31). In Luke, she sees the vision rather than Joseph. In Matthew, however, Mary is just stated to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit and Joseph receives a vision only when he is about to separate from her privately (Matt. 1:18-25). So Mary gets the vision in Luke; Joseph in Matthew. This makes our passage in Judges a little more unique, since both Manoah and his wife receive a vision successively (you can only do this with the gospels by harmonization). Nonetheless, in these two stories we get a vision of an angel giving a message of the miraculous birth, a quite stunning vision, as Manoah's wife says:
Then the woman came and told her husband, "A man of God came to me, and his countenance was like the countenance of the angel of God, very terrible; I did not ask him whence he was, and he did not tell me his name..." (Judges. 13:6-7)
In what follows she repeats the message of the angel to her husband. This passage resembles Genesis 32 in some ways. The figure seen is a "man" of God (Gen. 32:24), its uses "God' rather than "LORD/YHWH" in the dialogue, and there is the issue of the unknown name (Gen. 32:29). Moreover, the "man of God" looks like an "angel of God"; that is, the appearance was terrible. If Ezekiel 1 is any indication with the living creatures/cherubim, these would be frightening. This tradition persists, since the Angel Gabriel has to tell Mary not to be afraid (Luke 1:30), as well as Zechariah (1:12-13) and the shepherds (2:9-10). Angels are supposed to be glorious, frightening, and "terrible." She also did not ask "whence he was," where he came from. Does she doubt the angel's origin with God? He looks like a messenger of God...but was he...
Manoah then entreats God:
O LORD, I pray thee, let the man of God whom thou didst send come again to us, and teach us what we are to do with the boy that will be born. (Judges 13:8)
Manoah's petition is successful; God listens to him. Once again, Manoah's wife is the contact person, however. So, while Manoah can successfully speak to God, God sends his messenger to Manoah's wife.: "and the angel of God came again to the woman as she sat in the field; but Manoah her husband was not with her. And the woman ran in haste and told her husband, 'Behold, the man who came to me the other day has appeared to me.'" (Judges. 13:9-10).
Subsequently, the Manoah comes to the man/angel of God and questions him of how to take care of the boy. The angel/man simply answers: "Of all that I said to the woman let her beware..." and then he repeats what he said to her. The man/angel basically says that his message to Manoah's wife was sufficient. Manoah, it seems, either was looking for more information, or wanted to hear for himself.
The next part is particularly interesting. Manoah asks the "angel of the LORD" to stay and they will prepare a kid for him, offering hospitality. The angel refuses to eat with Manoah and his wife, but instead tells them to offer a burnt offering to the LORD (Judges. 13:15-16). The parenthetical remark is what is initially startling: "For Manoah did not know that he was the angel of the LORD." This presumably explains why the angel refuses to eat with the humans, although this is no obstacle in Gen. 18:1-8. So this raises a question of whom Manoah thought this figure whom his wife described as a "man of God" like the "angel of God" because his appearance was "terrible." Perhaps a lesser angel? Perhaps just a striking prophetic human? Some sort of intermediate being? By using so many terms, this passage perhaps creates a bit of confusion: man, man of God, angel of God, angel of the LORD are all applied to this figure. Why were they willing to follow this figure's orders if they did not know "whence he was" and who he was? Any supernal being will do? There is a similar human/divine slippage also present in the Jacob passage in which the "man" becomes revealed as God. Or perhaps an unfolding revelation of identity.
Much like the Jacob passage, the issue of the name comes up once again:
And Manoah said to the angel of the LORD, "What is your name, so that, when your words come true, we may honor you?" And the angel of the LORD said to him, 'Why do you ask my name, seeing it is wonderful?'" (Judges 13:18)
In both Gen. 32 and here, the man/angel/god(?) refuses to give the name. Here the reason is given that it is wonderful. It is over-awing. It also reveals a bit of Manoah's cautiousness toward the figure: the proof of the pudding is in the eating. He wants to know the name (who is this figure, and where does he come from?) so that after these things come true they can honor him (as man, as angel, as god?). If/when these things come to pass--proving the prophecy/revelation true--they will honor him. There is a tinge of doubt in the conditional.
The next part is quite astonishing. Manoah sets up the altar and takes the kid with a cereal offering. He offers it to the LORD, "to him who works wonders.":
And when the flame went up toward heaven from the altar, the angel of the LORD ascended in the flame of the altar, while Manoah and his wife looked on; and they fell on their faces to the ground. (Judges 13:20)
The angel of God/the LORD uses the flame of the burnt offering as a transportation device--he ascends through the flame of the offering. I cannot think of another biblical source in which an angel ascends through the flames of an offering. If there is a source, I would be happy to hear of it. And this is the proof that Manoah needs. For the first time in the passage, they both fall to the ground with their faces to the ground in a position of reverence. Due to this fiery ascent, they seem to have figured out the whence and who of the angel, and do not need to wait for the birth for proof to honor this figure who is now clearly not a man.
The angel of the LORD appeared no more to Manoah and to his wife. Then Manoah knew that he was the angel of the LORD. And Manoah said to his wife, "We shall surely die, for we have seen God." But his wife said to him, "If the LORD had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted the burnt offering and a cereal offering at our hands, or shown us all these things, or now announced to us such things as these." (Judges 13:21-23)
There is a certain irony in the passage. As long as Manoah doubts and they both do not quite know the identity of the figure, the figure stays. When they intuit that it is the (angel of the) LORD or God (made clear through the fantastic fire-traveling trick), they no longer see the figure. Manoah then picks up the tradition of not being able to see God and live (as seen with Jacob, Moses, Hagar, and most recently with Gideon), but his wife reassures that is not the case. If God was going to kill them, it would cancel the message given. So God has to make exceptions to the rule for the case of revelation (one can't reveal something to someone for a particular purpose and kill them before fulfilling that purpose, even give the fact that one should not be able to see God and live). And, what is more, it is just bad manners: God accepted their offerings, it would be rude to kill them after that.
In all, Manoah's wife is the primary recipient of a vision of God/angel of God/angel of the LORD/ the LORD (they are equivalent in the passage) and the primary interpreter of that message. Manoah himself is there to seek reassurance from the figure (who tells him basically to listen to what he already told his wife), offer some hospitality, and set up the offering, which turns out to be the angel of God/the LORD's transportation home. He offers some doubt as well--as to the figure's identity and, once the identity is intuited, of whether they will live. It is here that his wife, the original recipient of the message, offers reassurance, since the message needs to be fulfilled.
All in all, Manoah and his wife are privileged company because they saw a vision of God (or angel of God). While God often pops in and out in Genesis, God is much more distant in Judges. Only Manoah, his wife, and Gideon are vouchsafed with such a terrible vision.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
To See God and Live
In Exod. 33:20, the LORD famously tells Moses, "you cannot see my face; for man shall not see me and live." Moses then is allowed to see God's backside (v. 23). One might compare Exod. 3:6 where Moses is afraid to look at God.
Recently I was asked if I would write up a little piece on seeing God in late antique Judaism. It is quite a broad topic, and, of course, should I take up the task I will be looking at some of the Hekhalot texts. But my mind also began buzzing about something else--I wonder how Rabbinic literature, particularly the Targumim and the Midrashim, handle these passages of seeing God and living or not living. That is, even though we have this passage of God telling Moses no one can see the LORD's face and live (although perhaps God's backside), there are plenty of passages where people do see God's face and live--even Moses himself.
God says he speaks to Moses face-to-face in Num. 12:8 (as opposed to everyone else to whom he speaks in dreams and through indirect means). Perhaps most famously, Jacob remarks after he wrestles with the mysterious "man," "For I have seen god face to face, and yet my life is preserved" (Gen. 32:30). Gideon is amazed that he continues to live after seeing the (Angel of the) LORD in Judges 6:22-23. These passages are aware of the rarity of being able to see God; they are both aware that one should die from seeing God; and in both cases they live.
These are all individual visions of God, but there is a collective vision in Exod. 24:11: "And he [the God of Israel] did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and at and drank." As one might suspect, much of this has been explained through source criticism (that is, the differences between LORD and Angel of the LORD, and especially the use of God versus LORD in this verse). Nonetheless, even this source, which does not mention death to those who see God in a pronounced way denotes the danger and exceptionality of the collective vision, since it notes that God did not lay his hand on them--God restrained the typical consequence of death.
Deuteronomy changes much of the language to speaking and hearing: "Did any people ever heard the voice of a god speaking out of the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and live?" (Deut. 4:33). Nonetheless, some visual language sneaks in: "The LORD spoke with you face to face at the mountain, out of the midst of the fire, while I stood between the LORD and you at the time, to declare to you the word of the LORD; for you were afraid because of the fire, and you did not go up into the mountain" (Deut. 5:4-5). This is an interesting passage because it seems at odds with itself. Part of what marked the Israelites as special in Deuteronomy 4 was that they HEARD God and still lived. Deuteronomy 5 takes us a step closer and then two steps back. They not only heard God and lived, but God spoke with them "face to face" as God speaks to Moses in Numbers 12. And just at the moment of potentially seeing God and living, the Deuteronomist moves away from these implications: they did not quite see God (or perhaps fully hear God), since Moses stood between them and the LORD, because they were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain.
I want to end this posting with a meditation on two more passages of seeing God and living. When I first started thinking about this project, I immediately had thought not of Moses, but of Hagar. I thought she might be an interesting figure to track down the history of interpretation, since she is one of the few women who sees the (Angel of the) LORD and lives and one of the few (perhaps the only?) foreigner who does (she's Egyptian). How do later interpreters handle her vision? Genesis 16 is a fascinating passage. I often assign it to students to do an in-depth literary analysis on it. She is fleeing Sarai and is in the wilderness where the Angel of the LORD appears to her. For my current purposes, the ensuing conversation is less important, but it ends as follows: "So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, "Thou art a God of seeing"; for she said, "Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?" Therefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi; it lies between Kadesh and Bered" (Gen. 16:13-14). This passage has a few quite unique features. Firstly, Hagar names the LORD, "God of seeing." One might compare other passages, such as Moses (Exod. 3) or Jacob (Gen. 32) in which they request the name of the LORD, whereas Hagar names. Secondly, while other passages state or exclaim that one has seen (or heard) God and lived, here Hagar (perhaps...) questions this. Different translators have either placed this sentence in the indicative or the interrogative, and I would like to look at it more carefully to consider this (and perhaps this is something that might come up in Rabbinic interpretation of the verse). It is clearly a marked passage. Not only do we have the exceptional vision of the LORD or Angel of the LORD remarked upon (of course, the LORD/Angel of the LORD appears multiple other places, especially in Genesis, without comment of living/dying, such as with Abraham), but we have a foreign woman who sees and lives and questions this fact.
The most remarkable passage, in my opinion, however, of seeing the LORD and living has to be in Judges 13 when Manoah and his wife (otherwise known as Samson's parents) see and live. I had previously thought that Hagar was the only woman in the Hebrew Bible who sees God and lives (or at least remarks on the case of seeing God and living), but I was wrong. Manoah's wife--never named--does as well. She is the lead seer in this passage, and she takes charge. There are some similarities, I think, between this story and the Jesus birth story--both have an Angel of the LORD, both have the angel appear to both husband and wife, wife first, and both about the birth of a special child. It is a very extensive vision with several important elements. For this reason, I think it deserves a post of its own. So, be on the lookout for Manoah and his wife seeing the LORD and living.
Recently I was asked if I would write up a little piece on seeing God in late antique Judaism. It is quite a broad topic, and, of course, should I take up the task I will be looking at some of the Hekhalot texts. But my mind also began buzzing about something else--I wonder how Rabbinic literature, particularly the Targumim and the Midrashim, handle these passages of seeing God and living or not living. That is, even though we have this passage of God telling Moses no one can see the LORD's face and live (although perhaps God's backside), there are plenty of passages where people do see God's face and live--even Moses himself.
God says he speaks to Moses face-to-face in Num. 12:8 (as opposed to everyone else to whom he speaks in dreams and through indirect means). Perhaps most famously, Jacob remarks after he wrestles with the mysterious "man," "For I have seen god face to face, and yet my life is preserved" (Gen. 32:30). Gideon is amazed that he continues to live after seeing the (Angel of the) LORD in Judges 6:22-23. These passages are aware of the rarity of being able to see God; they are both aware that one should die from seeing God; and in both cases they live.
These are all individual visions of God, but there is a collective vision in Exod. 24:11: "And he [the God of Israel] did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and at and drank." As one might suspect, much of this has been explained through source criticism (that is, the differences between LORD and Angel of the LORD, and especially the use of God versus LORD in this verse). Nonetheless, even this source, which does not mention death to those who see God in a pronounced way denotes the danger and exceptionality of the collective vision, since it notes that God did not lay his hand on them--God restrained the typical consequence of death.
Deuteronomy changes much of the language to speaking and hearing: "Did any people ever heard the voice of a god speaking out of the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and live?" (Deut. 4:33). Nonetheless, some visual language sneaks in: "The LORD spoke with you face to face at the mountain, out of the midst of the fire, while I stood between the LORD and you at the time, to declare to you the word of the LORD; for you were afraid because of the fire, and you did not go up into the mountain" (Deut. 5:4-5). This is an interesting passage because it seems at odds with itself. Part of what marked the Israelites as special in Deuteronomy 4 was that they HEARD God and still lived. Deuteronomy 5 takes us a step closer and then two steps back. They not only heard God and lived, but God spoke with them "face to face" as God speaks to Moses in Numbers 12. And just at the moment of potentially seeing God and living, the Deuteronomist moves away from these implications: they did not quite see God (or perhaps fully hear God), since Moses stood between them and the LORD, because they were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain.
I want to end this posting with a meditation on two more passages of seeing God and living. When I first started thinking about this project, I immediately had thought not of Moses, but of Hagar. I thought she might be an interesting figure to track down the history of interpretation, since she is one of the few women who sees the (Angel of the) LORD and lives and one of the few (perhaps the only?) foreigner who does (she's Egyptian). How do later interpreters handle her vision? Genesis 16 is a fascinating passage. I often assign it to students to do an in-depth literary analysis on it. She is fleeing Sarai and is in the wilderness where the Angel of the LORD appears to her. For my current purposes, the ensuing conversation is less important, but it ends as follows: "So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, "Thou art a God of seeing"; for she said, "Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?" Therefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi; it lies between Kadesh and Bered" (Gen. 16:13-14). This passage has a few quite unique features. Firstly, Hagar names the LORD, "God of seeing." One might compare other passages, such as Moses (Exod. 3) or Jacob (Gen. 32) in which they request the name of the LORD, whereas Hagar names. Secondly, while other passages state or exclaim that one has seen (or heard) God and lived, here Hagar (perhaps...) questions this. Different translators have either placed this sentence in the indicative or the interrogative, and I would like to look at it more carefully to consider this (and perhaps this is something that might come up in Rabbinic interpretation of the verse). It is clearly a marked passage. Not only do we have the exceptional vision of the LORD or Angel of the LORD remarked upon (of course, the LORD/Angel of the LORD appears multiple other places, especially in Genesis, without comment of living/dying, such as with Abraham), but we have a foreign woman who sees and lives and questions this fact.
The most remarkable passage, in my opinion, however, of seeing the LORD and living has to be in Judges 13 when Manoah and his wife (otherwise known as Samson's parents) see and live. I had previously thought that Hagar was the only woman in the Hebrew Bible who sees God and lives (or at least remarks on the case of seeing God and living), but I was wrong. Manoah's wife--never named--does as well. She is the lead seer in this passage, and she takes charge. There are some similarities, I think, between this story and the Jesus birth story--both have an Angel of the LORD, both have the angel appear to both husband and wife, wife first, and both about the birth of a special child. It is a very extensive vision with several important elements. For this reason, I think it deserves a post of its own. So, be on the lookout for Manoah and his wife seeing the LORD and living.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Peter Schafer's Origins of Jewish Mysticism
After listening to a couple reviews by Jim Davila and Seth Sanders at the SBL of Peter Schafer's expensive and important new book on the Origins of Jewish Mysticism, I was happy to see that it is now coming out in paperback (in May) at a reasonable price. This book by the preeminent scholar of the Hekhalot literature will, to be sure, be a must-read for anyone interested in late-antique religion and the history of Jewish mysticism. I will be looking forward to getting my paperback copy.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Blake's Imagination
The Imagination is not a State: it is the Human Existence itself
Affection or Love becomes a State, when divided from Imagination
The Memory is a State always, & the Reason is a State
Created to be Annihilated & a new Ratio Created
Whatever can be Created can be Annihilated Forms cannot
The Oak is cut down by the Ax, the Lamb falls by the Knife
But their Forms Eternal Exist, For-ever. Amen Halle[l]ujah
William Blake, Milton: Book the Second, Plate 32 [35]
Affection or Love becomes a State, when divided from Imagination
The Memory is a State always, & the Reason is a State
Created to be Annihilated & a new Ratio Created
Whatever can be Created can be Annihilated Forms cannot
The Oak is cut down by the Ax, the Lamb falls by the Knife
But their Forms Eternal Exist, For-ever. Amen Halle[l]ujah
William Blake, Milton: Book the Second, Plate 32 [35]
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Ancient Babylonian Math
The NYTimes reports that there is an exhibit of ancient Babylonian Mathematics at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World at NYU.
Most of the ancient tablets appear to be classroom exercises, yet they may show a very high degree of sophistication, predating many of the Greek insights--such as the Pythagorean theorem--by millennia (or approximately 1500 years). The newspaper article indicates that Greek thought has shaped our own mathematical thought, but that we can see that we owe a great deal more to the Babylonians than previously thought. I should also note that much of our mathematics derives from medieval arabic mathematicians as well.
The tablets from Columbia University, University of Pennsylvania, and Yale University will be on exhibit until December 17. Unfortunately, I heard about this too late to take advantage of the exhibit and will not return to NY until after the exhibit closes. But I would love to hear or read people's responses below.
Most of the ancient tablets appear to be classroom exercises, yet they may show a very high degree of sophistication, predating many of the Greek insights--such as the Pythagorean theorem--by millennia (or approximately 1500 years). The newspaper article indicates that Greek thought has shaped our own mathematical thought, but that we can see that we owe a great deal more to the Babylonians than previously thought. I should also note that much of our mathematics derives from medieval arabic mathematicians as well.
The tablets from Columbia University, University of Pennsylvania, and Yale University will be on exhibit until December 17. Unfortunately, I heard about this too late to take advantage of the exhibit and will not return to NY until after the exhibit closes. But I would love to hear or read people's responses below.
Sistine Chapel 360
I just saw this site that shows the inside of the Sistine Chapel in 360. You can use your mouse to look at different parts and to zoom in and out. All without having to be guided in like cattle with all the other tourists.
It's pretty cool.
It's pretty cool.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Un-Creation
One of the more interesting things I have begun to notice in biblical literature in my past year of reading or so is something of "uncreation." This is not necessarily the cataclysm of the end of time, although it can be that. It is not quite that final. It is more of a working backward from order to chaos in order to reintroduce an element of chaos in the world, showing that God is the God of chaos and not just order. I find traces of this in Isaiah, but it is all over the poetry in Job, including Job's own personal "uncreation" in Job 3 (an observation I owe to one of my students) to God's cosmic "uncreation" in Job 38 onward (an observation I owe to Carol Newsom's book on Job). With this interest in mind, I read the following from Rumi's poems that is almost an uncreation at points:
This is definitely not the same as the chaos/cosmos theme in Job or elsewhere in ancient Jewish writings. It is almost like reading Hosea (the latter chapters), Job, and the end of 1 Corinthians together. In Hosea 10 and 11, there is much talk about devouring. Job seeks "uncreation" and self-annihilation by negating his own birth. But take this language and put it into a more positive spin of returning to one's source.
The antitheses are what caught my attention: the one who created will devour (like God in Hosea? like Kronos/Saturn?); the one who froze us will melt us. In language elsewhere in Rumi and other Sufis, I take the freezing as the placement of our true essence into form; the removal of the form "melts" us, but releases our unformed/pre-formed/un-created self. That is the first part. The second part is a purification: the breaking of grapes to create wine. But the pressing of wine has the same function: the removal and destruction (death) of the solid form for the liquid essence to flow and mature. Our bodies, though, are "dregs" while our true self is the soul that is purified wine.
These two first parts, then, focus on our form and formlessness, the next part shows why we need to pass beyond our form: to return. As the diffusion of the light of the sun we were cast upon the earth. Here Rumi sounds almost Sethian as souls are presented as rays of light cast upon the earth that will return to their source--the original orb--all without a demiurgical element, though. I am struck by the fact that the light's return to its source is gradual. It is not all at once. This indicates that Rumi is not seeing the, well, annihilation of the egoistic self as it is reabsorbed into its source in terms of death (or not solely), but as a self-annihilation that occurs in life. The deathlike scene of return comes next, when one returns through the body's window (the eye) to return to the sun. Light came into the body through the window and it will escape in the same way. Whoever looks at the source will think of the soul as finally truly alive (unfrozen); those who look at the form--the grape--will see death. In another poem, Rumi says concerning the only one who truly is: "Inwardly you are the soul of the soul of the soul, outwardly you are the sun of the sun." To return, in fact, one must go into one's most inward self to find the highest element of the universe.
Death, though, includes perhaps more than just death, but as Montaigne would say how death insinuates itself into our lives through pain and as well as joy. Such distractions, for Rumi, I think would be more like death--that is to be unconnected or less aware of one's origin--whereas through self-annihilation before and absorption into the one who truly is one truly exists and lives. The death of the egoistic, solid self is the birth of the diffusive liquid self that, as such, easily blends back into its sunny source.
I am sprung from you and likewise you have devoured me,
I melt in you since through you I froze.
Now you press me in your hand, now under your foot with grief;
for the grape does not become wine until it is pressed.
Like the light of the sun, you have cast us on the earth,
then little by little carried us back in that direction.
We return from the body's window like light into the orb of a sun,
pure of sin and blemish.
Whoever sees that orb says, "He has become alive,"
and whoever comes to the window says, "So-and-so is dead."
He has veiled our origin in that cup of pain and joy;
in the core of origin we are pure, all the rest left behind like dregs
(Rumi, Mystical Poems of Rumi, trans., A.J. Arberry, pp. 302-3)
This is definitely not the same as the chaos/cosmos theme in Job or elsewhere in ancient Jewish writings. It is almost like reading Hosea (the latter chapters), Job, and the end of 1 Corinthians together. In Hosea 10 and 11, there is much talk about devouring. Job seeks "uncreation" and self-annihilation by negating his own birth. But take this language and put it into a more positive spin of returning to one's source.
The antitheses are what caught my attention: the one who created will devour (like God in Hosea? like Kronos/Saturn?); the one who froze us will melt us. In language elsewhere in Rumi and other Sufis, I take the freezing as the placement of our true essence into form; the removal of the form "melts" us, but releases our unformed/pre-formed/un-created self. That is the first part. The second part is a purification: the breaking of grapes to create wine. But the pressing of wine has the same function: the removal and destruction (death) of the solid form for the liquid essence to flow and mature. Our bodies, though, are "dregs" while our true self is the soul that is purified wine.
These two first parts, then, focus on our form and formlessness, the next part shows why we need to pass beyond our form: to return. As the diffusion of the light of the sun we were cast upon the earth. Here Rumi sounds almost Sethian as souls are presented as rays of light cast upon the earth that will return to their source--the original orb--all without a demiurgical element, though. I am struck by the fact that the light's return to its source is gradual. It is not all at once. This indicates that Rumi is not seeing the, well, annihilation of the egoistic self as it is reabsorbed into its source in terms of death (or not solely), but as a self-annihilation that occurs in life. The deathlike scene of return comes next, when one returns through the body's window (the eye) to return to the sun. Light came into the body through the window and it will escape in the same way. Whoever looks at the source will think of the soul as finally truly alive (unfrozen); those who look at the form--the grape--will see death. In another poem, Rumi says concerning the only one who truly is: "Inwardly you are the soul of the soul of the soul, outwardly you are the sun of the sun." To return, in fact, one must go into one's most inward self to find the highest element of the universe.
Death, though, includes perhaps more than just death, but as Montaigne would say how death insinuates itself into our lives through pain and as well as joy. Such distractions, for Rumi, I think would be more like death--that is to be unconnected or less aware of one's origin--whereas through self-annihilation before and absorption into the one who truly is one truly exists and lives. The death of the egoistic, solid self is the birth of the diffusive liquid self that, as such, easily blends back into its sunny source.
Monday, November 22, 2010
On Blogging the SBL on Blogging
One of the most enjoyable and best -attended sections I went to at the SBL this year was the panel on Biblioblogging. While as the speakers noted that blogging has been greatly expanding the past five years in the field of biblical studies (broadly conceived), it is measured not only by the number of bloggers but the number of unofficial and now official gatherings of the bloggers (many of whom know each other by their blog names rather than their real names--even when their real names are not secrets). As has been the case the past few years, there was a dinner (which I was unable to attend), a lunch organized by John Hobbins. This year, the bloggers have an official group that meets to discuss issues of blogging, online publication, and burgeoning online technologies in research and instruction.
The meeting I attended had a nice panel from a well-established scholar to a more recent dissertation defender and all in between; it included scholars on the Dead Sea Scrolls, New Testament, and Targumim who came together to discuss their perspectives on this new technology. I am speaking more precisely of Jim Davila of Paleojudaica, whose paper is available on his site, Christian Brady or Targuman, also with his paper posted online, Michael Barber of the Sacred Page, James McGrath of Exploring Our Matrix, and Robert Cargill of XKV8R, the last three who have not (yet?) posted their papers online.
[Update: Robert Cargill has posted his discussion here, Michael Barber here, and James McGrath has promised to do so.]
[Update: Finally, James McGrath has posted his talk here]
It was an atmosphere of geekdom filled with a great deal of humor, prophetic prediction (both fulfilled and to come), and free exchange (open access?) of ideas.
There were many issues raised that new online technologies raise about our discipline in terms of how blogs are viewed (that is, should and could they be used for tenure and promotion committees, and if so, how could they be evaluated?), for pedagogical purposes (using blog platforms, pod- and vod-casts for dissemination of information, using possibilities for mixed medias that blogs are flexible enough platforms to hold to change the way we conceive of course construction--as well as research outlets), and the place of conferences--if panels are often already disseminating papers ahead of time (and Jim Davila always posts his papers ahead of the conference) would it not be better to have asynchronicity in participation by having a virtual conference, which would also be cheaper for those who cannot afford the traditional conference? Or a hybrid form of videoconferencing that allows people to come to panels physically (as usual) and for monitors to be set up so that others can participate virtually?
We do need to rethink the academic conference, I think. A couple years ago, I had written here (but I am currently too lazy to look for it, but I bet you can find it under the "academic conferences" tag) that conferences are a thing of the past and that virtual conferences in which people meet at a particular platform to exchange papers on topics and then write comments at the time or even later would be the way to go. At that time, however, I considered the traditional conference's continuing validity for two primary reasons: professional networking and for job interviews.
I am rethinking some of this. I have met a lot of scholars through my blogging activities (as well as publishers and book review distributors, etc.). Moreover, due to the economic difficulties of sending job search committees to conferences, so many places are using the phone interview or videophone interview as a replacement for the initial interview stage (before the traditional on-campus interview).
So where does that leave conferences? It retains the human face. As I have noted, as bloggers have increased, so have blogger-related activities at the SBL, both official and unofficial activities. They are face-time. While many bloggers do not come to these events (since there are hundreds of bloggers and only a couple to a few dozen come to the blogger events), most bloggers are not just sitting up curled with their computer on their bed all day. They are physically networking with people they have already networked with virtually. It is a solidification of a bond. Interestingly, I have two tendencies that I think I share with others: I am more likely seek out bloggers at the SBL to get a face and a voice and a physical presence to the person, and at the same time, I am more likely to read a blog of someone I have already met in person. It is a cycle that constantly feeds back into itself.
Perhaps soon we'll transition into a hybrid conference that is both physical and virtual--those who can physically and economically come will, but those who cannot will not be excluded and have a virtual presence.
As was noted in my first SBL session I attended that reviewed Guy Williams's new book on the Spirit World in the Pauline Epistles, we may have a new inflection of being somewhere in spirit.
This is just one of the many fruitful issues that came out of that single session--a rarity in the current climate of the proliferation of sections. I am sure that many other bloggers will blog about what they saw and heard and may want digital copies of the pictures that James McGrath showed.
If anything, the blogging section at the SBL inspired me to post again, which I have been doing so little lately.
The meeting I attended had a nice panel from a well-established scholar to a more recent dissertation defender and all in between; it included scholars on the Dead Sea Scrolls, New Testament, and Targumim who came together to discuss their perspectives on this new technology. I am speaking more precisely of Jim Davila of Paleojudaica, whose paper is available on his site, Christian Brady or Targuman, also with his paper posted online, Michael Barber of the Sacred Page, James McGrath of Exploring Our Matrix, and Robert Cargill of XKV8R, the last three who have not (yet?) posted their papers online.
[Update: Robert Cargill has posted his discussion here, Michael Barber here, and James McGrath has promised to do so.]
[Update: Finally, James McGrath has posted his talk here]
It was an atmosphere of geekdom filled with a great deal of humor, prophetic prediction (both fulfilled and to come), and free exchange (open access?) of ideas.
There were many issues raised that new online technologies raise about our discipline in terms of how blogs are viewed (that is, should and could they be used for tenure and promotion committees, and if so, how could they be evaluated?), for pedagogical purposes (using blog platforms, pod- and vod-casts for dissemination of information, using possibilities for mixed medias that blogs are flexible enough platforms to hold to change the way we conceive of course construction--as well as research outlets), and the place of conferences--if panels are often already disseminating papers ahead of time (and Jim Davila always posts his papers ahead of the conference) would it not be better to have asynchronicity in participation by having a virtual conference, which would also be cheaper for those who cannot afford the traditional conference? Or a hybrid form of videoconferencing that allows people to come to panels physically (as usual) and for monitors to be set up so that others can participate virtually?
We do need to rethink the academic conference, I think. A couple years ago, I had written here (but I am currently too lazy to look for it, but I bet you can find it under the "academic conferences" tag) that conferences are a thing of the past and that virtual conferences in which people meet at a particular platform to exchange papers on topics and then write comments at the time or even later would be the way to go. At that time, however, I considered the traditional conference's continuing validity for two primary reasons: professional networking and for job interviews.
I am rethinking some of this. I have met a lot of scholars through my blogging activities (as well as publishers and book review distributors, etc.). Moreover, due to the economic difficulties of sending job search committees to conferences, so many places are using the phone interview or videophone interview as a replacement for the initial interview stage (before the traditional on-campus interview).
So where does that leave conferences? It retains the human face. As I have noted, as bloggers have increased, so have blogger-related activities at the SBL, both official and unofficial activities. They are face-time. While many bloggers do not come to these events (since there are hundreds of bloggers and only a couple to a few dozen come to the blogger events), most bloggers are not just sitting up curled with their computer on their bed all day. They are physically networking with people they have already networked with virtually. It is a solidification of a bond. Interestingly, I have two tendencies that I think I share with others: I am more likely seek out bloggers at the SBL to get a face and a voice and a physical presence to the person, and at the same time, I am more likely to read a blog of someone I have already met in person. It is a cycle that constantly feeds back into itself.
Perhaps soon we'll transition into a hybrid conference that is both physical and virtual--those who can physically and economically come will, but those who cannot will not be excluded and have a virtual presence.
As was noted in my first SBL session I attended that reviewed Guy Williams's new book on the Spirit World in the Pauline Epistles, we may have a new inflection of being somewhere in spirit.
This is just one of the many fruitful issues that came out of that single session--a rarity in the current climate of the proliferation of sections. I am sure that many other bloggers will blog about what they saw and heard and may want digital copies of the pictures that James McGrath showed.
If anything, the blogging section at the SBL inspired me to post again, which I have been doing so little lately.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Divine Horror: Ezekiel 20:26
The Bible is weird: this could be the subtitle of my introduction to biblical literature class. I have a tendency to point out those parts of the Bible that most people skim over because they are not particularly helpful for one's contemporary faith. There are these passages that, while overlooked most of the time in modern religious communities, when scrutinized and taken seriously shock the reader; remind the reader that these works are products of a different time and place.
I have been sort of collecting these passages this semester, and perhaps I will find some time to post some of the earlier ones I have discussed in class (Gen. 6:1-4; Exod. 4:24-26; most of 1 Kings 17-2 Kings 10, etc.). One such passage is for my class this friday. When reading Ezekiel's reasoning for the exile, which it is fruitful to compare to Isaiah's and Jeremiah's warnings, one finds that the problem is that the people have persistently and consistently not walked in God's ordinances and statutes (cf. Leviticus 18:1-5) and have not kept the sabbaths (the use is in the plural like in the Holiness writings). This problem was there since Egypt--that is, in Ezekiel 20, Ezekiel basically argues that there has not been a time when the Israelites actually did follow God's ordinances, statues, and properly revered God's sabbaths. This differs from the emphases in Jeremiah and Isaiah that the reason for (impending) destruction is lack of justice: not properly caring for the vulnerable in society, such as orphans, widows, and the oppressed. Although this surely can be included in Ezekiel's statutes and ordinances, the emphasis for Ezekiel tends to be more cultic: proper and improper worship. But in the process there is quite a difficult line:
Ezekiel, as noted, is very close on most topics to the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17-26), but on this point, compare Lev. 18:21 (see also Deut. 18:10):
It is unclear what offering one's child to Molech would be. Whether this is another deity or the LORD as king (Melech). In both passages, the practice offering one's child by fire (as a burnt offering) has a negative valuation. One might argue that "first-born" for Ezekiel is not one's own human children, but this would not explain why it is so horrifying. It takes the offering of the first-born sons (e.g., Exod. 22:29) very literally.
For Ezekiel, this burnt offering is a command from God; in Leviticus it is forbidden by God. While in Leviticus, this action would profane God's name, it is interesting to note that the reasoning behind God's actions in Ezekiel 20 throughout--the reason why God does not continually punish the Israelites--is for the sake of God's name. Thus while in Leviticus, offering one's children as a burnt offering profanes God, as a divine command in Ezekiel, it defiles the people.
So, let's run down the checklist for this one verse: God demands burnt offering of one's first-born child; God is trying to horrify; God is trying to defile through the very mechanisms of sacrifice. That is, sacrifice, which is supposed to remove one's ritual impurity and moral defilements is here the very means of that defilement (and again portrayed as a divine command).
These two too contrary passages end on the same Holiness note: "I am the LORD." It is a statement that punctuates the Holiness code; it is the exclamation point and the underlying powerful reason why one should obey. For the Ezekiel passage, this divinely inflicted horror is so that the people can actually KNOW that "I am the LORD." It is the ultimate expression of divine authority. God is demonstrating ultimacy by being beyond morality, ethics, and even purity and defilement. Horror demonstrates God's terrible power, instilling fear.
I have been sort of collecting these passages this semester, and perhaps I will find some time to post some of the earlier ones I have discussed in class (Gen. 6:1-4; Exod. 4:24-26; most of 1 Kings 17-2 Kings 10, etc.). One such passage is for my class this friday. When reading Ezekiel's reasoning for the exile, which it is fruitful to compare to Isaiah's and Jeremiah's warnings, one finds that the problem is that the people have persistently and consistently not walked in God's ordinances and statutes (cf. Leviticus 18:1-5) and have not kept the sabbaths (the use is in the plural like in the Holiness writings). This problem was there since Egypt--that is, in Ezekiel 20, Ezekiel basically argues that there has not been a time when the Israelites actually did follow God's ordinances, statues, and properly revered God's sabbaths. This differs from the emphases in Jeremiah and Isaiah that the reason for (impending) destruction is lack of justice: not properly caring for the vulnerable in society, such as orphans, widows, and the oppressed. Although this surely can be included in Ezekiel's statutes and ordinances, the emphasis for Ezekiel tends to be more cultic: proper and improper worship. But in the process there is quite a difficult line:
and I defiled them through their very gifts in making them offer by fire all their first-born, that I might horrify them; I did it that they might know that I am the LORD. (Ezek. 20:26)
Ezekiel, as noted, is very close on most topics to the Holiness Code (Leviticus 17-26), but on this point, compare Lev. 18:21 (see also Deut. 18:10):
You shall not give any of your children to devote them by fire to Molech, and so profane the name of your God: I am the LORD.
It is unclear what offering one's child to Molech would be. Whether this is another deity or the LORD as king (Melech). In both passages, the practice offering one's child by fire (as a burnt offering) has a negative valuation. One might argue that "first-born" for Ezekiel is not one's own human children, but this would not explain why it is so horrifying. It takes the offering of the first-born sons (e.g., Exod. 22:29) very literally.
For Ezekiel, this burnt offering is a command from God; in Leviticus it is forbidden by God. While in Leviticus, this action would profane God's name, it is interesting to note that the reasoning behind God's actions in Ezekiel 20 throughout--the reason why God does not continually punish the Israelites--is for the sake of God's name. Thus while in Leviticus, offering one's children as a burnt offering profanes God, as a divine command in Ezekiel, it defiles the people.
So, let's run down the checklist for this one verse: God demands burnt offering of one's first-born child; God is trying to horrify; God is trying to defile through the very mechanisms of sacrifice. That is, sacrifice, which is supposed to remove one's ritual impurity and moral defilements is here the very means of that defilement (and again portrayed as a divine command).
These two too contrary passages end on the same Holiness note: "I am the LORD." It is a statement that punctuates the Holiness code; it is the exclamation point and the underlying powerful reason why one should obey. For the Ezekiel passage, this divinely inflicted horror is so that the people can actually KNOW that "I am the LORD." It is the ultimate expression of divine authority. God is demonstrating ultimacy by being beyond morality, ethics, and even purity and defilement. Horror demonstrates God's terrible power, instilling fear.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Most Important Archaeological Discovery!
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Gods We Stand by
I am rereading William James's Varieties of Religious Experience for my fall class Interpreting Religious Experience, and ran across this passage in his lecture on the "Value of Saintliness."
Spoken as a true pragmatist. This assertion of content that the popularity, "use," persistence of worship, etc., of any particular deity depends upon social circumstances of obligations and responsibilities between self and neighbor that make a society work reflects a pragmatic point of method: that religious issues of god, saintliness, etc., can be or can be best approached through social questions and standards. Together, they form a thesis that the divine, holy, and particularly the status of saintliness represent a distilled, idealized form of individual and social values.
The gods we stand by are the gods we need and can use, the gods whose demands on us are reinforcements of our demands on ourselves and on one another.
Spoken as a true pragmatist. This assertion of content that the popularity, "use," persistence of worship, etc., of any particular deity depends upon social circumstances of obligations and responsibilities between self and neighbor that make a society work reflects a pragmatic point of method: that religious issues of god, saintliness, etc., can be or can be best approached through social questions and standards. Together, they form a thesis that the divine, holy, and particularly the status of saintliness represent a distilled, idealized form of individual and social values.
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