Psalms 3: Psalm 119 - God's Law

So far, this blog has focused on the relationship between God and humankind as one driven by dialectical tensions - the difference between God's will and human action. In last week's post, I argued that these are the result of the covenant between God and his people, the Israelites; if the people obey God, they are ensured his divine protection. But as the story of Job demonstrated, sometimes it is difficult for humans to perceive that God is upholding his end of the deal. This is the topic we will discuss today in analyzing Psalm 119. What happens when God does not seem to fulfill the terms of his covenant with humanity?

We have the  promise and law causing a dissonance within Psalm 119. Both of these derive from the covenant between God and humanity, and both have discreet functions. The promise is asked to be remembered by God - it is God's terms of the covenant. The law, on the other hand, is required of the psalmist by God. The psalmist must uphold God's law in order to remain in good standing in the contract.

Psalm 119 features eight synonyms that all represent God's law:

• Law
• Decrees
• Way(s)
• Statutes
• Precepts
• Commandments,
• Ordinances
• Word

Of these, the reader must be careful with "way" and "word", as these do not always connote God's divine law. "Law" is something that is followed, but "word" and "way" can also represent what God promises - namely, deliverance from enemies. To further complicate the matter, in Psalm 119, the phrasing for both facets of God's law and God's promises is the same. The facet is generally given as "your ___" (e.g. your law, your decrees). Law and promise seem to be indistinguishable. As we shall see, however, the psalmist means something very particular when he is referring to law and promise, respectively.

Let's turn to some poetry for an example:

Remember your word to your servant, / in which you have made me hope.
This is my comfort in my distress, / that your promise gives me life.
(Psalm 119 49-50)

This poetic technique is known as chiasmus, in which similar terms cross one another. If we were to draw one line between "hope" and "comfort," and another between "your word" and "your promise," the result would look like an X. Hence, chiasmus, coming from the Greek Letter Chi (X). "Your word" and "your promise" link up synonymously, as do the ideas of hope and comfort in distress. In this instance, word refers to God's covenantal promise.

In the following example, however, God's word is synonymous with law:

Before I was humbled, I went astray, / but now I keep your word.
You are good and do good. / Teach me your statutes
(Psalm 119 67-68)

Two things indicate the connection between word and law. One is the parallel linkage of word and statutes. The other is the phrasing in verse 67: "Now I keep your word." The psalmist is the one who obeys God's will, which is the prime example of law.

The human-divine relationship is elucidated in verses 145-149, in which the psalmist shifts from law to promise, and then back to law:

With my whole heart I cry; answer me, O Lord.
I will keep your statutes.
I cry to you; save me,
that I may observe your decrees.
I rise before dawn and cry for help;
I put my hope in your words.
My eyes are awake before each watch of the night,
that I may meditate on your promise.
In your steadfast love hear my voice;
O Lord, in your justice preserve my life.
(Psalm 119 145-149)

Note that statutes are kept and decrees are observed by the psalmist. On the other hand, it is words that the psalmist puts his hope in, and God's promise that he meditates on. Laws are followed, but God's promise is contemplated, the source of hope and faith.

Words and promise are further clarified by what might be considered a synonym: steadfast love. This is an explicit term of the covenant: God's steadfast love for his people - even when they disobey him. Perhaps they are not given protection during times of apostasy. However, the covenant still exists, and God's people experience his steadfast love.

Verses 153 and 154 are parallel, yet not synonymous. Here, the second verse builds on the first, forming something of a crescendo:

Look on my misery and rescue me,
for I do not forget your law.
Plead my cause and redeem me;
give me life according to your promise.
(Psalm 119 153-154)

In succession, the psalmist is seen and rescued, his cause pleased, and his life redeemed. Interestingly, the language is all judicial, and serves to express both God's law and his promise. The psalmist is seen and rescued because of his adherence to the Lord's law. His case is pleaded and his life is redeemed because the Lord fulfills his promise. In judicial language, both parties are shown upholding their respective terms of the contract.

What can we learn from the psalmist's relationship with God? We know that obedience of God's law will result in protection from enemies. However, the faithful will at times have to request God's protection, as made amply evident in the song. God will, however, always act eventually, just as he did in Job. Of course, this analysis of God's relationship with humans assumes that an individual's relationship with God is personal. What we might need to consider for further analysis is the relationship between God and God's people as a group. After all, the initial covenant with Noah promised protection for all humanity, and subsequent covenants afford land and fertility for the offspring of a patriarch. It would appear that in the time of Israel's offspring, God protects the group as a whole. By the time of David, the Israelites live or die based on the actions of one individual, the king. Therefore it might be difficult to conceive of a communal relationship vis-a-vis a personal one. After the exile, there is no leader, so the question of individual autonomy versus that of the group remains open...

Until next time.

Psalms 2: God's Covenant and Jesus

With Easter fast approaching, this week's post will explore Psalm 22 as a source text for the gospels, particularly Jesus' Passion. Psalm 22 was not originally written with this intention; the themes and words or the text were adapted by later authors in order to build a story with historical resonances. The original purpose of Psalm 22 was as a spiritual text to describe an encounter with God. For more on the genres of Psalms, see last week's post: Psalms 1: Parallelism and Mixed Metaphors.

Psalm 22 is actually comprised of two parts: a prayer for divine aid (lament) in verses 1-21a, and a song of thanksgiving in verses 22-31. The psalm hinges on verse 21b, in which the Lord responds to the petitioner's lament:

^21a Save me from the mouth of the lion!
^21b From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.
²² I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters.

The transition in the psalm is abrupt, shifting the entire viewpoint of the poem in a mere verse. The rapid progression that can be seen above shows the two most important topics in the poem - petition and deliverance - as hinging on the action they both refer to - deliverance.

The opening words of the psalm, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" are among the most famous recorded in the bible, whether in Hebrew or Christian scriptures. These are similar to the words of Job, who questioned God's sense of justice as well as God's involvement (or lack thereof) in human affairs:

I cry to you and you do not answer me;
I stand, and you merely look at me.

In fact, the God of Job actually acts against his people, in contrast to the God of Psalms. Says Job:

You have turned cruel to me;
with the might of your hand you persecute me.
(Job 30.21-21)

These words reflect an understanding of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel: obedience to God's law results in protection for God's people. But as was revealed in Job, protection does not necessarily work out by a method or timescale that humans are able to understand. Humans like Job and the psalmist wonder why they are still oppressed, even when they perceive they have upheld their end of the covenantal relationship with God.

The covenantal framework through which the Israelites perceive justice is informed by historical events. Whether thee events are scientifically historical, historicized fiction, or fictionalized history does not matter, as all of these function within the understanding of truth of the biblical authors. Indeed, the psalmist may have been reading these events as literal, not understanding the other modes of truth at all. In any case, what we know to be true from the psalmist's perspective is that God historically upheld the terms of the covenant:

In you our ancestors trusted;
they trusted, and you delivered them.
To you they cried, and were saved;
in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.
(Psalms 22.45)

What now? asks the psalmist. Why do we no longer seem to be protected? This question is answered, however inadequately, in the thanksgiving portion of the psalm, which will be discussed later. First we turn to the nature of the torment that the psalmist suffers.

Anyone who reads both the gospels and Psalms will be able to identify the huge influence of Psalm 22 on the tale of Christ's crucifixion. Mark, the first gospel to be written, has Jesus utter before his death, "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani." (Mark 15.34) This is in Aramaic, the language Jesus would have spoken. Matthew, the second gospel to be written, has Jesus utter a similar phrase in Hebrew, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani." (Matthew 27.46) [In another Psalms connection, Luke has Jesus say, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit," which appears in Psalm 31.5. (Luke 23.46)] Mark's and Matthew's phrases both translate to the first line of Psalm 22. The words suit the tone of those gospel stories well.

Another closely-related connection: In Mark and Matthew, God works signs to indicate that in fact Jesus was the son of God. Likewise, God reveals in the latter part of Psalm 22 that in fact he is present, and that the psalmist has not been abandoned after all. Actually, this should be stated in reverse. The idea of God revealing himself was taken up by the psalmist long before the gospel writers.

A more obvious example of Psalm 22's influence on the gospels is the scorn and mocking suffered by the psalmist:

All who see me mock at me;
they make mouths at me, they shake their heads;
"Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver -
let him rescue the one in whom he delights!"
(Psalms 22.7-8)

This theme appears throughout the four accounts of Jesus' passion, particularly in Matthew, who has the bandit taunt Jesus:

"He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, 'I am God's son.'"
(Matthew 27.43)

The psalmist, like Jesus, is thirsty, and downtrodden. His enemies take his property, a scene which John reads literally (John 19.24):

They divide my clothes among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.
(Psalms 22.18)

But Psalm 22 was not written to describe Jesus' crucifixion; it was merely adapted much later for this purpose. The psalmist simply describes how he or people like him are oppressed, tormented verbally, and abused physically and/or psychologically. Unlike the story of Jesus, Psalm 22 has the protagonist delivered immediately.

The deliverance in in the manner of Job, and therefore may seem unsatisfying to modern readers. It happens in one verse, without explanation. For the psalmist, it would have needed no explanation. God's protection operates like a light switch: on or off. There is no dimmer by which he might dispense partial favor. Likewise, the psalmist operates on the light switch model of accepting God's protection. The change from cry of help to promise of praise is immediate. There is no doubt or hesitancy on the part of the psalmist - and why should there be? The covenantal model has demonstrated its effectiveness yet again!

When the psalmist discovers that Israel is under God's protection after all,  he promises to spread God's praise:

I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters;
in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.
(Psalms 22.22)

All questions of God's devotion are furthermore forgotten:

For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted;
he did not hide his face from me,
but heard when I cried to him.
(Psalms 22.24)

The "forsaken" part is forgotten, its ejection left unexplained. This contributes to the sense we derived from Job that God's protection is constant; humans are simply unable to express it.

God's love, the psalmist declares, is universal in location, extensive in chronology. God rules over all nations, and his praises will be sung to generations yet unborn. Whether the first of these is true or not, the second has remained true for thousands of years:

Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the Lord,
and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn,
sying that he has done it.
(Psalms 22.30-31)

Psalms 1: Parallelism and Mixed Metaphors

The Book of Psalms is comprised of prayers and songs dating from Israel's early history to after the exile. Like most of the literature of the bible, individual psalms were composed over many years and edited into a final form as it appears in the bible.

The introduction to Psalms in the Harper Collins Study Bible lists the following types of psalms:

• Prayers for Help (Laments)
• Songs of Thanksgiving
• Hymns (like Songs of Thanksgiving though not necessarily offered with an explicit reason)
• Royal Psalms
• Other

The variety of poetry in Psalms is vast, though undeniably God-centric. In total, there are 150 psalms, many of them repeating themes and images of others, though all unique aspects of praise, lament, or worship. These are divided into five collections, or "books," each separated by closing verses.

The first of these books is comprised of Psalms 1-41. I would highly recommend reading them; they are fascinating and beautiful works of poetry. In this time and space, I only have room to look at two in-depth.

Warning: I will analyze poetry as part of this post. For a rough sketch of terms and methods of biblical poetry, check out my primer on biblical poetry.

Parallelism in Psalm 19
One of the distinguishing characteristics of ancient Israelite poetry is the form of synonymous parallelism. The "synonymous" part of this is a function of style. Biblical poetry is filled with parallel cola that say the same thing, only in different ways. Modern writers tend to avoid repetition as a matter of style, favoring stylistic features like rhyme scheme instead. Ancient Israelite poets favored synonymous phrases.

The "parallelism" part of "synonymous parallelism" connotes structure. Biblical poetry is structured on parallel lines of poetry, much as poetry today is structured by meter and/or line length.

Below I have broken down Psalm 19.7-9, one of the longest and most intricate examples of synonymous parallelism in Psalms.

The law of the Lord is perfect,

reviving the soul;

the decrees of the Lord are sure,

making wise the simple;

the precepts of the Lord are right,

rejoicing the heart;

the commandment of the Lord is clear,

enlightening the eyes;

the fear of the Lord is pure,

enduring forever;

the ordinances of the Lord are true

and righteous all together.

(Psalm 19.7-9)

In the left column appear the perfect will of God. Laws, decrees, precepts, commandments, and ordinances are all synonyms, and fear is a near-synonymous term, meaning obedience to the Law of God. Taken together, these all refer to the covenant between God and his people. To adapt a term from Taoism, this is the Tao, meaning "way." the Laws/precepts are of the same substance as following them. The Israelite path to peace and goodness is through this "way," a path that is sure, right, clear, pure, and true.

The results for adhering to the will of God are given in the right column. The lone exception is the final entry, which serves instead as a synonym for the perfection of the Lord's law. The law has a revitalizing effect on adherents.

Synonymous parallelism has a reinforcing effect, and when taken as a whole, is not a far cry from the method of some mystics. In certain mystical understandings of God, it is wrong to say that God is something. It is more accurate to say that God is "like" something because it is impossible to know exactly what God is. We dance around meaning, and understand the idea in our mind and heart - an inexpressible reality that is reached through, but not described through, synonym.

Psalm 23: The Lord is My Shepherd
Psalm 23 is one of the most popular psalms, with two metaphors that are part of the lexicon today: the Lord as shepherd and the “valley of the shadow of death.” Psalms is not the only place in the bible that equates God with a shepherd, which indicates that this was not an uncommon understanding of God’s relationship with his people. The “valley of the shadow of death” appears in either this form or one similar, such as in the New Revised Standard Version: “darkest valley.” The difference comes from conflicting divisions of Hebrew consonants. In any case, this metaphorical valley is a place of evil and shade, a place where the walker requires the protection of God.

The extended metaphor that comprises the poem – the imagined shepherd leading the sheep – is confused as the poem at times lapses into the interaction between the Lord and his people. Of course, the shepherd leading the sheep is meant to demonstrate the Lord as shepherd and the people as sheep. However, the poem does not stick to either view consistently, resulting in ambiguity that actually enhances the poem through its double meaning. Below is the text of Psalm 23 as it appears in the New Revised Standard Version. I have marked where the imagery corresponds to sheep or humans, or has a double connotation

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. [sheep; double]
He makes me lie down in green pastures; [sheep]
he leads me beside still waters; [sheep]
he restores my soul. [human]
He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. [double]

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; [double]
for you are with me; your rod and your staff - they comfort me. [double; sheep]

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; [human]
you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. [human; human]

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, [human]
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD my whole life long. [human]
(Psalms 23)

The poem has a notable movement to it that plays out in the balance of images. The poem opens with a sheep and then a double meaning and continues with sheep images before introducing a human image. It then switches to three images with double meaning, and invokes the sheep one final time before delivering five images of a human relationship with God. The poem therefore moves from an understanding of the Lord as shepherd to images of the Lord as a God who should be obeyed. The psalm is instructional, starting off with an easy image separate from direct experience and expanding on the image to explain the direct experience shared by God and those who follow him.

That will do it for today. Stay tuned for more psalms next week!

Job: God and the Modern Reader

My spiel for blogging the bible thus far has been "dialectical tensions," the disconnect that exists between God's will and human action. In this model, humans are punished when they stray from God and rewarded when they are faithful. The book of Job challenges dialectical tensions with the tale of a pious man who is punished - without justification that we can understand in human terms.

Job is a work of "Wisdom Literature," which refers to three books of the Hebrew Scriptures: Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. This poetic, ideologic literature uses as a source similar wisdom literature of the ancient Near East, such as works from Egypt and Sumeria. We find parallels to Job in texts such as "The Babylonian Theodicy," and the anachronistically-named "Sumerian Job." These text deal with heavy issues that we still grapple with today, such as, What is the cause of suffering? Why is there evil in the universe? Why do good things happen to good people?

In The Bible as Literature, John B. Gabel et al. conclude, "It is clear, then, that wisdom writing in the Bible incorporates a tradition much older than its actual date of composition and that just like biblical narrational, legal, poetic, and historical writing, it can best be appreciated when seen in the broader context of the Ancient Near East" (57).

Gabel notes that for those reading the bible cover-to-cover, wisdom literature represents a departure from the norm. The book of Job does not drive the narrative forward. Thus far every book of the bible has either specified events that move the Israelites forward, or explained the origin of something within a specific context (such as Esther). Job instead is a philosophical text, one meant to explain why something is the way it is. The time period of the tale does not matter at all. However, it is worth noting that the text was composed during the exile, and deals at least tangentially with the fear that suffering is caused to people that don't seem to deserve it. The dialectical tension model is actively being called into question in the tale of Job. In fact, the book can be seen as making an alternative explanation for suffering and exile. And as we will see, to the modern day reader, the text leaves us with an uneasy feeling about God and his justice.

The Tale of Job
Job is a man living in the days between Noah and Abraham, and like these men he "was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil." (Job 1.1) God considers Job his faithful "servant,"and essentially makes a bet with an angel called "the satan" that the eternally-faithful Job will not turn away from God even if he loses everything. In quick succession, Job loses his children, livestock, and servants. Yet he still remains faithful to God.

God is pleased at this, and the satan (meaning "adversary") challenges God that Job will not maintain his faith if his health is taken away. God again takes the bet, and Job becomes leprous. Job does not curse God, but he is rather perplexed.

What follows is many verses of argumentation between Job and three friends or "comforters." These men tell Job that people are punished because they are sinful, Job maintains that he is not sinful, and the friends contend that nobody on earth is without sin. (We can probably believe Job, though, that he is without blame in God's eyes.)

A fourth man rebukes Job, followed by God, who delivers a coup de gras rebuke. Job repents in words for questioning (though he never turned in his heart form God), he is rewarded twofold, and the story ends happily.

The above is a brief explanation, which I urge you to read on your own time. The book is a beautiful and poetic work - in fact, the majority is poetry. A quick framework of the narration is given below:

• Job's goodness and punishment 1.1-2.10
• Argumentation between Job and the four men 2.11-37
• God's response 38-40.2
• Job's response 40.3-5
• God's challenge to Job 40.6-41
• Job humbled 42.1-6
• Job's friends rebuked 42.7-9
• Job's fortunes restored 42.10-17

Note that most of this book is argument about the nature of God. The true nature of god is explained by the deity himself in a few chapters, and Job's repentance, which makes up for his entire complaint, takes a mere six verses.

Humble Job
Job's full answer to the Lord reads thus:

I know that you can do all things,
and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

"Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?"

Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.

"Hear, and I will speak;
I will question you, and you declare to me."

I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,
but now my eye sees you;

therefore I despise myself,
and repent in dust and ashes.
(Job 42.2-6)

God is fully convinced of Job's devotion at this point, despite the time Job spent complaining of God's injustice. Perhaps Job's word is good; he was portrayed as a just man before, and the only incorrect move he makes is to question God; he does not commit apostasy. Job only argues that there is no correlation between the good one does and God's rewarding of these actions in this lifetime.

The quick scene of Job's humbling is followed closely by a similarly short passage in which Job's "comforters" are "humiliated." God speaks to Job's three friends:

My wrath is kindled against you [Eliphaz] and against your two friends [Bildad and Zophar], for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has." (Job 42.7)

Job speaks right not in his complaint, but in his submission to God. And indeed, the arguments of Job's "comforters" miss the mark just as much as Job's. Even as the main maintained his innocence, his friends asserted again and again that no one on earth could be innocent. God's argument responds to the friends as well as Job:

Enough with the quibbling! There is no way you can understand me! And to misunderstand me is not only incorrect, but merits punishment.

These men do not have an arm like God, and their voice does not thunder like his. (Job 40.9) The point should not be guilt or innocence. The true message that God wishes to extend to Job is that God should not, indeed cannot be questioned because God is on an entirely different level.

Accepting God
This is not an acceptable answer for someone that reads the bible as a piece of literature. What God says is ineffability is acually a bit of clever staging: some dramatic irony. This irony is set up at the beginning of the story when God tests Job by proxy of the satan simply to see whether Job will remain faithful. The modern reader that reads the book as a piece of literature should easily recognize this fallacy. God's excuse does not hold up; the narrator gave us his reason!

The tale of Job, then, still leaves an existential aftertaste (a bitter taste, as I imagine it). Job seems to exist at the will of a capricious God, a petty God, even. The Lord does not provide a straight answer to Job. Instead, the deity unloads verse after verse of rebuke, while his true intention remains unknown to the seeker. It is a grand dramatic irony, and empathy on the part of the reader is understandable. The book of Job does not really comfort, not really answer the question of the will of God. Despite the happy ending of Job's fortunes being restored twofold, the story ends on an uneasy note. It ended well for Joseph, but God has revealed his capricious nature. The reader has glimpsed God, and been left with an unsettling afterimage of his presence.

What are your thoughts on Job? Let me know in the comments below!

Esther: Reactions and Overreactions

The book of Esther is a rich narrative of palace intrigue, laden with irony and marked by detailed descriptions of the king's wealth. It is a well-written story, and one well worth reading. The book of Esther is read on Purim, a Jewish holiday whose roots are actually mentioned in the story itself. You can learn more about the story and holiday in this Itche Kadoozy video:

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Oddly enough, God is mentioned nowhere within Esther. The book seems to be entirely secular. Interpreters might attribute the great coincidences to God, but no reference is made to the deity throughout the text. So what fills this God-shaped hole in the story? Irony and drinking, of course! Drinking, in fact, is part of the Purim tradition, though for obvious reasons is not mentioned in the Itche Kadoozy episode. In fact, three devices drive the plot: eunuchs, drinking, and messengers. It would be possible to chart the story of Esther, with each major advancement of plot marked by one or more of these.

What I am most interested in is issues of scale and status: reaction and overreaction in the book of Esther. Without overreaction and and reaction in kind, this book would convey an entirely different message.

The book of Esther opens with a description of the lavish parties of the Persian empire, with a vividly detailed description unlike anything we've seen up to this point:

There were white cotton curtains and blue hangings tied with cords of fine linen and purple to silver rings and marble pillars. There were couches of gold and silver on a mosaic pavement of porphyry, marble, mother-of-pearl, and colored stones. Drinks were served in golden goblets, goblets of different kinds, and the royal wine was lavished according to the bounty of the king. Drinking was by the flagons, without restraint; for the king had given orders to all the officials of his palace to do as each one desired. Furthermore, Queen Vashti gave a banquet for the women in the palace of King Ahasuerus.
(Esther 1.6-9)

The description reads like the travel writing of today, complete with the status details of drink. The author of this story emphasizes the status symbols of the era - a technique common in journalism today as a way of displaying a characteristic without saying it outright (i.e. corner office, silk tie, college graduate).

The story begins with a party thrown by King Ahasuerus for the common people. The king, under the influence of alcohol, rages when his wife will not appear before the court to display her beauty to the people. This is not a matter that can be swept away - both male and female commoners have seen the queen's disobedience, so that the king's advisers worry that women everywhere will rebel against their wives. They advise him to make a decree that Queen Vashti is to be deposed, so that "all women will give honor to their husbands, high and low alike." (Ezra 1.20).

In the above introductory story, a single, almost trivial event becomes a huge political issue because of the audience that witnessed the scene. Whether the advisers' fears would have been realized is up for debate, but the public nature of the scene certainly does force the king to take action if he wishes to remain a powerful figure in the eyes of his empire.

An empire-wide search for a new queen yields Esther, a virgin from the city of Susa who has something of a Disney princess upbringing. The beautiful Esther is Jewish (and therefore marginalized), a woman (and therefore further marginalized) and an orphan (and therefore even further marginalized). She is raised by a Benjaminte by the name of Mordecai, who adopts her as his own daughter.

When Esther is chosen, she does not reveal that she is a Jew, which will later play an important part of the story. And so, status: The marginalized Esther comes into the court of King Ahasuerus and becomes the most powerful woman in the empire. In fact, her power ends up playing an important political role. More on that later.

Now another matter of status: Though the Jewish Mordecai discovers and reports a plot to kill the king, he is not rewarded. However, the King's official Haman is promoted for no apparent reason. This creates an ironic tension when Mordecai refuses to bow down before Haman. Though Haman holds a higher rank, Mordecai has saved the king's life and is arguably a greater asset to the kingdom. It also creates a relational tension between Haman and Jews. Haman is so angered by obstinate Mordecai (a Jew!) that he plots to kill every Jew in Ahasuerus' kingdom. This is an overreaction, to say the least.

And so letters are sent out to all the people of the kingdom that Jews are all to be killed and their goods plundered on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month (Adar).

Mordecai is understandably distraught over the matter, and begs Esther to prevent the pogrom. Esther does this at great peril to herself; anyone who approaches the king without permission is by default killed, unless the king wishes otherwise.

Meanwhile, Haman plans to have Mordecai hanged, and constructs a gallows 50 cubits (75 feet) high for this purpose. Such a large gallows certainly serves to indicate overreaction. A gallows on such a large scale for a single man...Well, Haman's anger runs hot, and his actions only take place on a large scale.

Things begin to go wrong for Haman when King Ahasuerus suffers insomnia. In order to bring on sleep, the king has the book of records read to him. He discovers the story of Mordecai, and realizing the man was never rewarded, vows to help the man. Just then Haman appears, thinking very highly of himself for his honored position with the king. Ahasuerus asks, "What shall be done for the man whom the king wishes to honor?" (Esther 6.6). Haman, thinking the question refers to him, says that the man should be given the king's robes, a horse, and crown, and that he should be paraded through the city with people proclaiming his position of honor.

Much to Haman's chagrin, King Ahasuerus tells him to bestow this honor on Mordecai. Haman must even parade the man through the city, proclaiming the man's honor. Ah, cosmic justice! Haman is brought low by his own pride. Then he is raised high - hanged on the 75-foot high gallows that he constructed in order to hang Mordecai.

This brings up an important question: should Haman have been hanged for actions he only anticipated? The response by modern standards seems harsh, but Haman is responsible for plotting the destruction of all Jews. And those same men who were to exact Haman's orders - they are killed as well, by the Jews. King Ahasuerus sends a second order to all the Jews allowing them to defend their lives and destroy any armed forces that approach them. While the initial order allowing the destruction of the Jews is an overreaction, the second order levels the playing field, perhaps with the idea that two overreactions cancel each other out.

But all this is academic palaver on my part, because the point of the story is that those who were willing to take action against the Jews were destroyed. The Jews proved themselves to be not just competent, but powerful! The "overreaction" first by Mordecai and then by King Ahasueras allows the Jews to demonstrate their power as a force to be reckoned with.

Because of the "God-less" nature of this book, however, we arrive at quite a different interpretation of what this destruction means. According to the book of Esher, the Israelites are a powerful people unto themselves. They do not rely on the power of God. Even those living in the contemporary times of Ezra and Nehemiah asked the Lord for protection. But the Israelites in the book of Esther do not seem to rely on God for protection - and at the very least do not invoke his name. This makes the book peculiar within the biblical canon, but a fascinating story nonetheless.

Nehemiah II: Internal Threats in the Quest for a Jewish Identity

The Israelites are back in Jerusalem after their exile in Babylon. Reconstruction of the wall around the city has been completed, and for a time the Israelites do not have to worry about external threats from governors in the area such as Sanballat and Tobiah. With God and a physical wall for protection, the Jews no longer have to expend energy worrying about attacks. This energy is instead expended on reforming life within the city walls. The Israelites have forgotten some of the practices and laws of their ancestors, and now must return to God.

[To read more about the external threats to Israel during the period of Nehemiah's leadership leading to the completion of the wall, see Tuesday's post: Nehemiah I: External Threats in the Quest for a Jewish Identity.]

Inside
I am not trying to impose this idea of external to internal on the text; the biblical author, in fact, is the one that cleverly keeps the externally-focused and internally-focused sections of Nehemiah separated by the completion of the wall. Starting with Nehemiah 7, we are held within the wall, as the Israelites rediscover the proper worship of God from within.

Nehemiah 7 is comprised mainly of a genealogy of the people living in Jerusalem. Note that once the narrative shifts its focus to the people of Israel, the major characters are now listed.

In Nehemiah 8, Ezra reestablishes regular worship of the Lord through his reading of the book of the law of Moses. [Read more about outside sources and sources of shame that inform the book that bears Ezra's name] Interestingly, Levites move among the people while the book is being read, in order that the people may better understand the text. Whether this is translation or interpretation, the author does not specify. However, it is clear that correct understanding of and therefore adherence to the Law of Moses is of the utmost importance, even for the laity. The Jewish faith is to be one based on the rules God establishes: an orthopraxic faith instead of an orthodox one (i.e. a faith based on proper practice, as Islam is, rather than proper belief, as Christianity is). The detail also helps to establish the active role of the Levites as intermediaries between the divine and mundane realms.

The return to old sources continues the next day, as the heads of the ancestral households join the priests, Levites, and Ezra to study the law. In this way, the festival of booths is rediscovered and reestablished.

Nehemiah 9 features the national confession of the Israelite religion, and emphasizes the holiness (meaning "separateness") of Israelite religion. This separation of Israel from the rest of the world is clear in certain practices in Judaism, such as kosher laws. Actions of separation serve to emphasize that the Jews are "a people apart."

This is further emphasized in Nehemiah 13, when it is found in the book of Moses that "no Ammonite or Moabite should ever enter the assembly of God" (Nehemiah 13.1), based on Balaam's historic curse against the Israelites. In fact, the people interpret this prohibition to include all foreigners, further removing Israel from the other people of the land.

Nehemiah 9 also contains the history of the Israelites, as read by Ezra. Throughout, the dialectical tensions are apparent: this is the cyclical framework on which the Bible is written. The oration ends with a clear statement of the present situation:

Now therefore, our God—the great and mighty and awesome God, keeping covenant and steadfast love—do not treat lightly all the hardship that has come upon us, upon our kings, our officials, our priests, our prophets, our ancestors, and all your people, since the time of the kings of Assyria until today. You have been just in all that has come upon us, for you have dealt faithfully and we have acted wickedly; our kings, our officials, our priests, and our ancestors have not kept your law or heeded the commandments and the warnings that you gave them. Even in their own kingdom, and in the great goodness you bestowed on them, and in the large and rich land that you set before them, they did not serve you and did not turn from their wicked works. Here we are, slaves to this day—slaves in the land that you gave to our ancestors to enjoy its fruit and its good gifts. Its rich yield goes to the kings whom you have set over us because of our sins; they have power also over our bodies and over our livestock at their pleasure, and we are in great distress.
Nehemiah 9.32-37

Even in their present condition, the Israelites are still in debt to God for the actions of their ancestors. God's steadfast love has always been accessible, but it has been rejected time and time again. This is the beauty of the bible, and comprises the biblical narrative itself. The constant back-and-forth between God and his people is based on humankind's disposition to disobey God, and God's promise of steadfast love. It is a story we can even read into today, if we wish. [Well, maybe not today. It's getting late.]

A new covenant is signed in Nehemiah 10, reaffirming the law of Moses, as well as putting a contemporary spin on some of the laws in order to suit the time period. The law evidently must change over time as society and the Israelites' situation evolves.

Even by the end of the chapter, the dialectical tensions express themselves in full force as the people of Jerusalem revert to abhorrent practices. The once-reviled governor Tobiah has been given a room in the house of God, and the Levites have not received their just portions.

As a final measure of reform and expression of separateness, Nehemiah reemphasizes the Sabbath and forbids mixed marriage. The Israelites have been separated from outsiders, and must remain separate.

The chapter ends with a fitting request from Nehemiah, who has done so much as governor to reestablish a just Israelite society:

Remember me, O my God, for good.
(Nehemiah 13.31)

Nehemiah I: External Threats in the Quest for a Jewish Identity

This post is part of a two-post series. The second portion will be posted Thursday, March 24 under the title, "Nehemiah II: Internal Threats in the Quest for a Jewish Identity."

The tales of Ezra and Nehemiah mark the beginning of the postexilic period, in which the Israelites attempt to reestablish themselves in Judah under the auspices of King Cyrus of Persia. After dispersal, the Israelites (or Jews, as they are referred to by outsiders) rally around two major building projects: the temple and the wall. The story of the rebuilding of the Temple is told in Ezra. The rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem is told in Nehemiah.

The Jews were again dispersed in 70 C.E., this time by the Romans. Had it not been for events well over half-a-century ago, this story of redemption in Ezra and Nehemiah could have been timeless, without parallel in the modern world. But it's a story that played itself out again not so long ago, with the creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948. That nation likewise faced and faces the hostility of its neighbors.

One of the formulas of biblical literature is the repetition of events as a way of showing that the undercurrents of our lives are timeless. Apostasy and repentance, destruction and renewal are constant cycles. Even after the codification of the bible, the themes within the tale continue to repeat themselves. This will be partially apparent in today's post, but really come to light Thursday. Today we will focus on the struggles of reestablishing the center of Israelite worship: the house of God or temple.

The story up to this point:
Israel and Jerusalem were ruled for years by kings, some wicked and some good. The wicked ones would destroy the work of the good ones through their apostasy, and the good ones would reconstruct the great society that was destroyed by the wicked kings. First the northern kingdom of Israel is taken, then the southern kingdom of Judah. The residents of Judah are overtaken by the Chaldeans and taken to Babylon. They are granted liberty by King Cyrus of Persia some 50 years later (historically; the bible indicates 70 as a more perfect symbolic number). And so the difficult task of rebuilding society may begin.

This is not to say that previous books do not point toward a Jewish/Israelite identity. They do. I chose the book of Nehemiah to feature this point because there is so much condensed evidence to support the idea, coming at a time when Jewish community was of supreme importance as it re-forms itself in the postexilic period.

Setting the Stage

The book of Nehemiah opens with news of the destruction and shame of Jerusalem:

The survivors there in the province who escaped captivity are in great trouble and shame; the wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been destroyed by fire.
(Nehemiah 1.3)

This is followed by the first of many prayers to appear in the book of Nehemiah. Appearing in Nehemiah 1.5-11, the prayer first invokes the covenant and God's steadfast love that accompanies it. This is followed by an acknowledgement of sin, and a reminder of God's covenant with Moses:

"If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the peoples; but if you return to me and keep my commandments and do them, though your outcasts are under the farthest skies, I will gather them from there and bring them to the place at which I have chosen to establish my name."
(Nehemiah 1.8-9)

The prayer closes with an entreaty that God hear and act on the prayer.

This prayer effectively explains the back story of this narrative and explicates the themes that will appear throughout: the dialectical tension between God and humankind, God's everlasting love, and pity on marginalized groups.

Politics
Nehemiah is cup bearer to King Artaxerxes - which is actually an important office with a degree of political clout in the Persian court. He therefore stands to actually have some impact in his words to the king. In fact, Artaxerxes gives Nehemiah permission to rebuild the city of his ancestors, and provides the him with letters granting safe passage and access to timber for the rebuilding of the city. Nehemiah and the other exiles are accompanied to Jerusalem by officers from the army and cavalry.

Nehemiah 5.14-19 marks a peculiar section in which Nehemiah records the food and drink served at his table, with a strong emphasis that this is all provided without taking advantage of the king's assistance - an allowance of food that Artaxerxes provides to governors. Nehemiah remains as independent from the king as possible while still maintaining good political ties that will benefit Israel. In any case, Nehemiah rejects the allowance in favor of food produced by his own people. This section ends in one of his many prayers, this one a bit self-serving, as though the man is trying to memorialize himself for humans as well as God:

Remember for my good, O my God, all that I have done for this people.
(Nehemiah 5.19)

Threats
Local governors voice their opposition to the rebuilding from the very beginning. Sanballat the Horonite and Tobiah the Ammonite threaten great grief for the Israelites. These characters will show up to threaten the well-being of the Israelites, after which Nehemiah consistently petitions God for justice or protection. Examples:

Nehemiah 4.4-5
A prayer to God asking for retribution for the insults the Israelites suffer.

Nehemiah 4.9
Mention of a prayer for protection. This is supplemented by a guard protecting Jerusalem. Nehemiah places troops around the wall to defend against impending attack, and construction continues with an air of readiness for battle. The people are told:

“The work is great and widely spread out, and we are separated far from one another on the wall. Rally to us wherever you hear the sound of the trumpet. Our God will fight for us.”
(Nehemiah 4.19-20)

This statement of faith in God confirms the historic precedent that God will indeed fight on behalf of Israel.

Nehemiah 6.9
A short prayer, asking God to "strengthen my hands" as Nehemiah continues construction of the wall in the face of threats from Sanballat, Tobiah, and Geshom the Arab.

Nehemiah 6.14
A petition to God for retribution on Tobiah, Sanballat, and the conspiring false prophets, for their roles in an assassination plot against Nehemiah.

The Wall
Nehemiah guides the people in the construction of the wall around Jerusalem, which serves to protect Israel from external threats. The rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem is a collaborative effort between the Israelites. Nehemiah 3 is comprised of a survey of all those who participated, and how and where they helped out.

When the wall is completed, it is said that,

 All the nations around us were afraid and fell greatly in their own esteem; for they perceived that this work had been accomplished with the help of our God.
(Nehemiah 6.16)

After the completion of the wall, Jerusalem no longer needs to fear the external threat so greatly. It now has God and a physical barrier for protection. However, interior life must be reformed as well if the Jews are to maintain their protected status under God...