In both my masters studies and in my growing experience as a lecturer I have spent a great deal of time in the Old Testament. I am aware that many Christians find drawing from this portion of our canon a challenging or even droll experience. As a result it has been, in the opinion of many, much neglected, particularly in church and devotional life. I do not wish to write in depth about why this should be, but rather to examine in brief one reading of the Old Testament narrative that has freshened up my own perspective, both academically and devotionally.
The portion of Old Testament literature to which I now turn is the Pentateuch or Torah (the first five books of the Hebrew and Christian canon, traditionally associated with the authority of Israel’s most revered teacher, Moses). This literary unit, as we have it in our hand, is a more or less continuous narrative relating the story of the creation of the world, the origins of sin and the formation of the Hebrew nation. It is generally agreed that the traditions and stories that make up this lengthy and complex narrative were edited into their final form sometime in the 6th/5th century BCE during the time of the Babylonian exile of the Jewish people. It is therefore likely that these five books of Moses provide for us not a disinterested picture of the events which they contain, but stories which have, at least in part, been filtered through the lens of the exilic experience. In some sense, in their final form, they can be seen as a product both of and for a displaced generation dominated by a foreign empire.
In the ancient world (and arguably still today), the credibility of a nation’s gods tended to depend largely on the prosperity and success of that nation. Israel was in many ways no exception to this pressure. Furthermore, for Israel perhaps the key tangible reminder of their association with YHWH was the land promised to their ancestor Abraham. Presence (and prosperity) in the land was a key indication of blessing.
In exile this promised life was shattered. Challenges and attacks whilst in the land of Canaan could come and go, but removal from the land (complete with the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple) devastated virtually all visible signs which would distinguish them as the people of YHWH. Deported to Babylon, they were surrounded by, though not entirely immersed in, a culture shaped by stories different to their own and directed toward the worship of gods other than YHWH, factors which together communicated an alternative reading of the world. Furthermore, this alternative reading came to them from the victors. It is not surprising that many felt and gave into the pressure to adopt and immerse themselves within their new environment; to cease to be a person of YHWH and to be (find their identity in) something other.
But many did not. It is, of course, not insignificant that the Babylonian approach (as opposed to Assyria) to conquered peoples was to allow them to retain some cohesion in exile including continuance, to a certain extent, in their practices of worship. This meant that the people of YHWH were in exile together. With this picture in mind, it is perhaps not too surprising that during this period, much of the Hebrew scriptures were shaped and formed into something akin to how we have them today. What were they doing? Those who remained faithful to YHWH had been gripped by a specific interpretation of the exile that sustained them through it and their efforts were spent in shaping and carrying forward stories which expressed this faith in the midst of a culture that was hostile to it.
For these exilic generations the Torah was a vibrant testimony of faith which held out the offer of counter-formation, that is, the opportunity to be formed as a people around the worship of YHWH as the true and supreme God. Elements in the Torah which speak to this ongoing challenge are many, but let me point out just two. Firstly, there are good grounds to view much of the prologue of Genesis (chapters 1-11) as an appropriation and radical reshaping of stories and traditions present in the broader cultural context. In speaking the language of origin stories, akin to Enuma Elish, the Torah unmistakably presented a challenging alternative to the claims of the seemingly dominant world around them. The God of the Hebrews is in fact YHWH and YHWH, according to Genesis 1, is in fact the supreme and effortless creator of the world. Equally, the great Babel of Genesis 11, almost certainly a reference to the revered Babylon, does not in fact mean ‘the gateway to heaven,’ but refers instead to foolishness and confusion. What appeared as the centre and pride of the ancient world was not as supreme as it may have appeared. These are just a few examples of how Genesis 1-11 would have challenged the Jews to see their surroundings through different eyes. It may seem that Babylon is supreme, but look again.
Secondly, though it often goes unnoticed, it is surely significant that the Torah, consumed as it is with the promise of land, ends in its narrative outside of the land (see Numbers and Deuteronomy). The land of promise is within reach, but not yet grasped. Many challenges still lay ahead. It is a small leap indeed to suggest that the exilic Jews were keen to shape and be shaped by this story. For first generation exiles, even Moses himself died without seeing the land but was careful to invest himself into the generation that would. For second generation exiles, though they had not seen many of the great works of God, their faith was stirred by the faith-filled remembering passed on to them which in turn served to point them ahead to future blessing, even in the face of profound challenge.
With the decline of Christendom in the west, the “given” world which the church inhabits grows increasingly foreign to the Christian story. In Babylonian fashion, the “gods” of the dominant culture rear their heads, often in disturbingly compelling ways. It seems to me that the time is right for the church of the West to re-appropriate the culture-challenging story of the Torah. How could this be done? A good start would be to enter the story of the Torah with fresh eyes, to see it as alive for our present as the Jews in Babylon saw it alive for their’s. We could then launch out along similar lines by drawing attention to the claims made by the stories of our own cultures. Consumerism and consumption, for instance, have a story from which they spring and by which they seek to shape particular types of people. Surely this and other stories of the “given” world could be called into question through exposure and countering. We may also, in the tone of Numbers and Deuteronomy, remind ourselves of the way in which we occupy a place still outside of the land, but with the land in grasp. The kingdom has come, but is still to come. Challenge lives in the between, but so does divine promise.
I conclude these thoughts with a quote from the deeply insightful voice of Walter Brueggemann who I must credit with starting my own thinking in this direction:
As the Western world has been perennially hostile to the claims of Jewish faith, so the emerging contemporary world of commodity grows more signally hostile to the claims of the Christian faith as well. As has not been the case in the long Christian hegemony of the West, now the church is having ot think and act to maintain a distinct identity for faith in an alien cultural environment. While the church will characteristically attend to the New Testament in such an emergency, a study of Torah already alerts us to the resources for this crisis that are older and deeper than the New Testament…The preaching, teaching, and study of Torah is in order to “set one’s heart” differently, to trust and fear differently, to align oneself with an alternative account of the world (Little 1983).
(Brueggeman, An Introduction to the Old Testament: The Canon and Christian Imagination, 27)
Good Stuff Daniel. Very interesting timing as well… I didn’t think anything about it till reading this but we’ve been going to College Wesleyan (except since we’ve been sick) and the series going on right now is about Abraham. What we’ve heard so far has been out of Genesis 12-16ish, I can remember exact references. It’s been really refreshing and I think it’s due to much of what you’ve spoken of here. For me anyway, I’ve taken away a challenge to reevaluate the way I look at situations and life in general. I think a lot of why it seems dry or boring is that we go into its study with the same perspective as that of the New Testament and that just doesn’t work. It’s like trying to read Hebrew and Greek as the same language. Thanks for sharing Daniel.
Thanks, Daniel. Ever since my study of the OT in seminary and teaching at BCW, I have been greatly opened up to its stories, stories that were ultimately written to draw us in and capture our hearts. Most can’t get around the concepts of killing the Canaanites, God’s continued anger with Israel, and the immense set of commands. But I do think we miss the point if that is simply what we see when reading the OT. I think we miss something bigger.
It is a redemptive drama, telling a story of a God moving history along to capture the hearts of people, even a hard-headed people. In his book, The Blue Parakeet, Scot McKnight challenges us to see the Bible (the whole Bible) first and foremost as story. Therefore, I turn to the Torah and see a beautiful story being told of the beginning of God’s intent for humanity, even after we seriously messed it up. For me, even without all the answers, I am drawn in to it.
Thanks again for sharing this article.
That’s cool, Nate, that they’re looking at Genesis at College Wesleyan. Is it a long series or just few weeks focus? I agree that the OT needs to be appreciated in its own right for us to really receive its full benefit. Glad that what I’ve shared has helped.
Scott, I agree that the overarching story of the OT is so important to grasp. It is truly epic and beautiful in what it portrays. More recently I have been gripped by how stunningly human it is (an aspect that evangelical Christianity seems loathe to give much focus). Peter Enn’s model of incarnational inspiration (the scripture is both fully divine and fully human) has proved very helpful to me. I think without deeply appreciating the more human aspects of the OT canon, one does not really grapple with what is there. The traditioning and formation of the texts and canon is a key aspect of this humanness and looking at it is a big part of what has lead me to track with Brueggemann on the points I made above concerning exilic influences in the Torah.
As to the “difficult” issues you mentioned, I think each of these needs to be examined in its own right, but I must admit that I am not now eager to simply try to explain away some of the more troubling aspect of the OT. Perhaps there could be a future post in there somewhere (?). I do agree though that it is possible to get caught up on the more troubling (or complex) aspect of the OT and miss the bigger, deeper picture.
Thanks for the comment response, Daniel. Yes, I think we would be accused of ‘looking the other way’ if we said there were never any edits and arrangings of the Mosaic text in later centuries. I still hold that the text was originally crafted and compiled by Moses (it has his fingerprints all over it). But the scribes and priests probably felt it important to make the inspired text real hundreds of years later. Sounds scary, almost as if the word of God has been tainted, but I suppose I would compare it to not sticking with the KJV after hundreds of years, but providing things like the ESV, NIV, even NLT. Hope that makes sense.
Thanks again.
Daniel, quick question… you say that Gen. 1-11 can be read as an alternative narrative to that of the Babylonians. And, without really studying it, I would not have a problem with that.
How far can this reading sit alongside other narrative readings of those chapters? For instance, the one William Cavanaugh provides in Theopolitical Imagination, where he presents Gen. 1-11 as a social narrative of continual and deepening human division from the Fall to Babel (from division between Adam and Eve [Adam blaming Eve for the fruit incident]; to division between man and woman generally with the curses; to them being kicked out of the garden; to Cain killing Abel, and then being sent into exile; to lots of people being killed at the flood cos of evil; and then to Babel…). Cavanaugh contrasts that narrative of division in Gen. 1-11, against the narrative of (essentially) the rest of the Bible, which describes of how, post-sin, God is attempting to redeem a people for himself, beginning with Abraham, through Israel, to the church, to the holy city in Revelation. Volf and several others have made similar points in this regard.
Now, that also is a very convincing narrative. Do you think it can sit side-by-side with the Babylonian one? Presumably it could in the sense that this understanding might have helped the Jewish people realise their importance as a set-apart people/community. But even if this narrative didn’t sit well with the one you’re proposing, how far can we say there are multiple layers of meaning in these kinds of passages? And how far does it matter whether or not these were intended by the authors or editors?
Excellent thoughts. I’m so happy that Christendom is finally declining in the U.S., although there is a long way to go.
Daniel wrote:
“…there are good grounds to view much of the prologue of Genesis (chapters 1-11) as an appropriation and radical reshaping of stories and traditions present in the broader cultural context. “
Gordon Wenham uses this reading, which I am sympathetic with, exegetically—and explains some parallelisms we find with other ancient Near Eastern literature, such as the Enuma Elish. These are God’s authoritative and inspired “versions” of the ancient myths (and are indeed still myths in the literary sense, just rightly-ordered ones).
Scott wrote:
“But the scribes and priests probably felt it important to make the inspired text real hundreds of years later.”
Yeah, this is why the canon formation is so fascinating to study. And I think this also brings to light the importance of tradition alongside sola scripture—or indeed, contra to the “sola” part. It’s not scripture “alone,” but rather scripture in a governing and interpretive community of believers—community and tradition.
Simon wrote:
“How far can this reading sit alongside other narrative readings of those chapters? For instance, the one William Cavanaugh provides…as a social narrative of continual and deepening human division…”
I think for the biblical scholars, there is usually a “correct” interpretation, which is found in the exegesis. However, I think the theologians are more correct to emphasize multiple readings and perspectives that can be drawn from a text. And as you indicate at the end, to what degree does authorial intent matter? It’s slightly more complicated for the Bible, as Christians maintain that there is human authors and the Divine Author, so this also makes it have more wiggle room for multiple authorial intents, and therefore, multiple readings/meanings.
Daniel wrote:
“Peter Enn’s model of incarnational inspiration (the scripture is both fully divine and fully human) has proved very helpful to me.”
Daniel, have you picked up his book on it yet? Or just familiar with the thesis?
Daniel wrote:
“In the ancient world (and arguably still today), the credibility of a nation’s gods tended to depend largely on the prosperity and success of that nation.”
“I think without deeply appreciating the more human aspects of the OT canon, one does not really grapple with what is there.”
Just a curious question that this first sentenced piqued: Would you be comfortable saying that perhaps parts of the Old Testament reflect a henotheistic worldview, rather than monotheistic? And perhaps over time developed into monotheistic?
Great post and comments.
Simon, I think that other readings fit quite well with the view of the narrative in Gen 1-11 I’ve mentioned. That it was a counter-myth is in a sense only half the story. The counter meant that an alternative view or views were being projected. The notion of human division is certainly there in this reshaping. Whether it was in the author/editor’s original intent is a good investigation, but probably can never be fully known.
On that note, I agree, Aaron, that the study of the OT canon is fascinating. I find Walter Brueggemann’s take on things most compelling at the moment. He proposes the notion of ‘imaginative remembering’ to describe the long, complex and varied traditioning process that eventually resulted in the OT canon (this is partially distinct to the more rigid proposal of specific documents). He goes so far as to say that the way in which memory was passed down, always invested with the possibility of future re-imaginings, invited this continuing process even post canonization. Does this idea touch on what we are saying with regard to multiple readings of biblical narratives?
My own view with regard to the Pentateuch is that elements of it must originate from quite early times (certainly as early or earlier than David), but that much remembering and passing along together with later, significant exilic editing and theologising all played a vital part. You could say that the touch of a single human voice could taint the process. If you allow one (i.e. a Moses figure) why not add another few hundred over the span of several hundred years?
Our faith must be in the Divine element of the canon rather than in the human person/s involved. I’ve read in various OT books that historically Moses’ connection with the Pentateuch has been, at least in large part, in the notion of authority rather than authorship in the modern sense of the idea.
Aaron, I’m quite comfortable with the idea of a henotheistic worldview present in some of the OT. I have no doubt that the Hebrew people’s understanding of their God developed over a great deal of time and there are a number of diverse qualities in the OT. Enn’s deals with this issue of theological diversity in the OT in his book…which I have picked up and have found very helpful.
Aaron –
Just a curious question that this first sentenced piqued: Would you be comfortable saying that perhaps parts of the Old Testament reflect a henotheistic worldview, rather than monotheistic? And perhaps over time developed into monotheistic?
I think many scholars believe such to be true. Doesn’t Vos pick this up in his Biblical Theology?
I’m not sure as to whether Vos picks it up, but it’s certainly true that many scholars would say that, yes.
Historically I would have been hesitant about such a proposition—theologically. However, I think exegetically it does indeed reflect the text.
And interestingly, it reflects a similar reading of OT passages that forbid the practice of magic and witchcraft. As a child I was fascinated with magic, much akin to today’s children with Harry Potter et al. I was always taught that magic wasn’t real, and that the references in the Bible forbidding magic were saying “don’t do this, [because it's not real].” But as a child, I was always struck by the fact that it actually says “don’t do this,” but not necessarily “because it’s not real.”