Theology for the Masses

**This is a story I told as a presentation of the Gospel at the MizzouBSU’s RealLife Thursday Night Live. I would be interested in your thoughts.**

If we can say anything at all about our culture, it’s that we love stories. Look at our movies, our television, our sports, our gossip (talk radio, celeb magazines, sometimes our ‘prayer requests’). We are captivated by the power of the Story. And so for just a few minutes tonight, I want to look at a story from the Gospel of John. It takes place the morning of Jesus’ resurrection, and involves Mary of Magdala, one of Jesus’ closest followers. She and a couple of Jesus’ disciples go to visit his Tomb and find it empty. The other disciples leave, and Mary stays, weeping. Here’s where we pick up:

But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. As she wept, she knelt to look into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, dressed in white, one at the head, the other at the foot of where Jesus’ body had been laid. They said to her, “Woman, why do you weep?” “They took my Master,” she said, “and I don’t know where they put him.” After she said this, she turned away and saw Jesus standing there. But she didn’t recognize him. Jesus spoke to her, “Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?” She, thinking that he was the gardener, said, “Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him so I can care for him.” Jesus said, “Mary.” Turning to face him, she said in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” meaning “Teacher!” Jesus said, “Don’t cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I ascend to my Father and your Father, my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went, telling the news to the disciples: “I saw the Master!” And she told them everything he said to her. — John 20:11-18

Why would Mary mistake Jesus for a gardener? Maybe it was still dark. Or perhaps we need to listen to the larger story, of which the Empty Tomb is the ending. I want to tell you God’s story as we have it in the Scriptures. Listen and see if you, too, can see what Mary saw.

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In the beginning, the Creator planted a beautiful garden. It was lush and fertile, overflowing with every kind of delicious fruit and vegetable imaginable, each one fully ripe, the flavors practically bursting through their skins before your teeth could break them. It was a perfect place. It was a wholesome place. It was a place where beauty was almost tangible, where you could see the health and perfection and wonder of the whole garden, just by looking around. And the Creator very much loved to take walks through his garden, to enjoy the subtle fragrances mixing together, shifting as he walked from one area to the next, to savor the sunlight as it played across the various plants, setting them on fire with reds and oranges or cooling them in deep blues and purples. As the Creator surveyed his garden, he sighed mightily, satisfied, and he said to himself, “This is good.”

It was so good, in fact, that the Creator wanted to share it beyond himself. And so he created the Man. How he loved those first days when the Man explored the garden, enjoying the sights and sounds and tastes and smells. One moment will forever hold a special place in his heart: He brought the Man to the center of the garden, where the trees were, those two trees. He stopped the Man there and said to him, ‘I have named you Adam because you are made of adamah, or dust. And just as I made this garden for us, I made you to take care of this garden with me. You will be my co-laborer, my gardener. You are going to work with me to keep this whole place beautiful.’ As the Man’s smile widened, the Creator turned to the trees to explain their nature to the Man: ‘Of all of the plants in this garden, these are the most important. One tree gives you life. You’ll live forever. This is tree I want to you eat from. I want you to experience life and this garden with me.’

‘And what of the Other?’ the Man asked.

‘The Other tree will give you the ability to choose your own way,’ said the Creator. ‘You will be able to decide your ways are better than my ways, that your plan for the Garden is better than mine. But you should know this: you cannot take care of the Garden without me. You are the gardener only because I am already gardening. You only know what to do because you have already seen me doing it.’

‘Hear me, Adam,’ the Creator said, ‘You can only eat from one of these trees. If you choose the Other tree, it means you’ll die. You can’t have life apart from me.’

I don’t know how many days passed between that conversation and Adam’s choice. I like to think that it was quite a while. I do know that the Creator made him a partner (but that’s a story for another time). I like to think that he and his partner were happy in the Garden with the Creator for a long time. And I don’t know why they chose what they did. I do know that eventually, Adam chose the Other tree. He chose to believe that his ideas were better than the Creator’s. That he could take care of the Garden on his own. And he died because of it. Oh not right away. No, actually, the rest of Adam’s long life was filled with the consequences of that fateful decision. I know he got to watch the beautiful Garden God had created consumed with violence and hatred and greed and all the other fruits that Other tree. And then, at the end of a long, hard and painful life, Adam and his wife, Eve, died. And they most certainly did not live happily ever after.

Now, as stories go, if that were the ending, it would make for a pretty depressing story, but also one that touches perhaps too closely to the truth of our lives. Because as Adam’s children, we all have made a habit of choosing that Other tree, of decided to go about life on our own, with little regard for the Creator’s desires for us and our world. To say it another way, we all think of ourselves as main characters in our own stories, rather than as characters in God’s story. And our world is proof of the truth of the Creator’s promise: our choice to tell our own stories has created a world that looks more like a grave than a garden. Adam’s legacy, our legacy, is death and destruction, not growth and goodness, not flourishing according to the Creator’s designs as he tells our stories. Our world of famine, rape, broken homes and broken hearts, of war and bloodshed, of children who die to young and old ignored and abused is a long way from that Garden, and we have lost the way back.

How fortunate for we sons of Adam and daughters of Eve that we were not left out here to wander in the dark and dead among the tombs! Because the Creator was not content to allow his children to destroy the world he’d created for them, nor to let them destroy themselves rather than live with him. Instead, God became human, one of us. And in doing so, he showed us what a rightly lived human life looks like. He showed us the Creator’s original plan for Adam.

He showed us a person who was more concerned about other people than himself. He showed us a person who gave his life over to the pursuit of Justice for all persons, not just those in power. And he showed us a person who did all of these things because he was first and foremost connected to the Creator, who only did what he saw the Creator doing, and – consequently – whose life was one long process of putting right the world we’d steered so horribly wrong.

And all of this culminated when he was in his early 30’s, during a holiday that celebrated the fact that the Creator is also the Liberator, that God not only brings about new life, but he restores that which was broken back to wholeness. During that holiday (called Passover), that God-become-human named Jesus took on the worst evils humanity had to offer and dared them to do their worst. We did what we have always done since we left the Garden – we killed. We brought about death. We slaughtered God and laid him in a Tomb.

The Second Adam had come to us that we might have life, that we might reconnect with God. That we might begin to fix what we had broken. He came into our darkness and offered to show us the ways of God that we had so long forgotten. And still, even after thousands of years of the pain of death, we chose the Other tree. We chose our own way. We killed the God made human.

And we declared it a Good Friday.

But as the Creator and the Liberator so often does, he redeemed us even from that choice. He set us free from that slavery to ourselves that we can’t seem to break. He took upon himself the first Adam’s death and destruction and offered us instead resurrection and restoration.

Because early on that Sunday morning, a new day began unlike any other in history. Jesus’ dead body was no longer dead. He moved; he sat up and removed his grave clothes, folded them neatly on the stone slab where he’d lain. And he emerged from the Tomb, from the place of death, from the consequences of Sin.

The Second Adam had defeated evil, death and sin. He had taken the worst we had to offer upon himself and by doing so placed himself between us and the death we’d called down upon ourselves and our world. And then he rose. He conquered. And so he walked out of the Tomb alive and well, ready to fulfill the work the first Adam had left undone.

So it’s not so great a surprise that, a few hours later, when Mary visits the Tomb to mourn, she mistakes him for the Gardener. Because he is the Gardener. But the whole world is his Garden, and he’s working towards the day when we’ll have no more Tombs. And no more suffering.

And if you’ll walk with him a ways, he’ll take you to that hill where he died. And he’ll point up to the tree on which they crucified him and say, ‘Child, if you continue to eat of this Other tree, if you choose to go your own way, you’ll die. Come with me and eat of the Tree of Life. Come join me once again in taking care of my Garden.”

Central to Yahweh’s covenant relationship with Abraham is the promises of land and offspring. The land is dealt with first in chapters 12-15, where it is clear the Canaanites will be removed from the land and it will be given to Abraham and his offspring (12:6-7); the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah being the first fruits of this promise. This explains Yahweh’s speech in 18:17-21, where He tells Abraham of his plans for these cities precisely because Abraham’s offspring will inhabit this land and will need to understand that holiness is essential to maintaining possession.

Though it is promised at the beginning of his story (12:1), it is not until the end that Abraham attains any portion of the land, and a small piece, even then, for his and Sarah’s burial (23:17-18) near the trees of Mamre (23:17).[1] That Abraham never fully realizes this promise is reinforced by the narrators’ repeated reference to the land as “Canaan,” though Abraham has lived there for years (12:5, 13:12, 16:3, 17:8, 23:2 & 19). However, it cannot be ignored that Abraham is staking a claim for himself and Yahweh through the land when he builds altars to Yahweh and calls on Yahweh’s name (12:8), and plants trees (21:33).

A second feature in Yahweh’s covenant is the promise of offspring, dealt with in chapters 16-24. The offspring promise evades fulfillment for a number of years after the initial promise is made. Yet Abraham righteously believes God will fulfill what He has resolved to do pertaining to the promise of progeny (15:16).

Offspring and ancestry play vital roles in the narrative as the means by which a person might live on after they die. Abrahamic religion has no concept of eternal glory or damnation; both are restricted to this life. His offspring, then, assist Abraham in seeing himself as part of a larger narrative Yahweh is developing; a narrative extending beyond him into a larger cosmic plan (12:3).

So, the promise of offspring also highlights the importance of family. The idea of an autonomous individual is entirely absent. Indeed, the text views independence and self-seeking as negative. The prime example of this being Lot’s self-serving decision to choose the beautiful plains of Jordan (13:10-11), which ultimately costs him his wife, his home and the purity of his family line (19:36).Yet even when he violates this norm, a sense of familial responsibility (12:17) and obligation (14:10-16) arises in the clan. Such family solidarity is not even not broken in death (25:8).[2]

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[1] Trees appear frequently in these narratives, often in association with the building of altars (13:18) or an appearance of Yahweh (18:1). Though the mentioning of them is unexplained and ambiguous, they probably symbolizing permanence and ownership over a land where he roams as a transient nomad, a transience which can be endured, however, as the land is a promised, perpetual possession (17:8).

[2] I find it particularly interesting that Abraham goes to be with his fathers, when it was his fathers that he was originally called forth from. Abraham’s ancestors were probably polytheists, but whatever life-after-death theology there is in the Abraham narratives, it seems to include those who do not follow Yahweh. Unless, of course, this phrase is to be taken as idiomatic.

What would our theological worldview look like if we only had Abraham’s narratives to work with? In the next three posts I will do exploratory pieces on how the Abrahamic story viewed God without relation to the rest of the Christian canon. This is not necessarily a “my personal theology” piece. It is just some thoughts and a bit of exploration.

The three posts will be centered on three lenses through which we might view Abrahamic religion: First, a specific deity, Yahweh, has entered history, calling and covenanting with the patriarch Abraham. Second, central to Yahweh’s covenant relationship with Abraham is the promises of land and offspring. And finally, Abrahamic religion was distinct from, but at times in solidarity with, Canaanite religions and cultures.

Abrahamic religion rests on the root premise that a single,[1] specific deity has entered history, calling and covenanting with the patriarch Abraham. Though the narrative identifies this deity by numerous names and titles, two stand out: Yahweh (employed over 65x), the personal name of this deity, and Elohim (employed over 40x), a general word for a god, often used both interchangeably with Yahweh (14:22) and at times is given specific nuance by the name Yahweh (24:12, 27, 48).

This Yahweh is not a deity inextricably attached to Abraham or Canaan. Rather, Yahweh transcends both, as demonstrated by His ability to call (12:1) and protect Abraham in foreign lands (12:17), repeatedly leave Abraham after speaking with him (17:22, 18:33), and the language of transcendence the narrative employs, such as when the “cry has come up” to Him from Sodom and Gomorrah (18:21). Furthermore, there is no reference to a centralized city. Abraham’s nomadic lifestyle kept his religion decentralized, preserving the idea of Yahweh as “Other” than Abraham or any geographic location. Indeed, the whole of earth and heaven is owned by Him (14:22).

Yet, while Yahweh is “Other,” it is not beyond Him to interact with free creatures or take on physical form (18:22). He is not threatened by doubts (15:1-6) and is not impatient when they question His actions (18:22-32). Yet because He interacts with free creatures, Yahweh also holds them morally responsible for their decisions (18:20-21), all the while sympathetic to their mistakes (20:6-7), even repeated ones (12:10-20, 20:1-18).[2]

Yahweh’s immanence is displayed further when He enters time and space.[3] In this He provides a purpose for history, blessing the nations through the historical lineage of Abraham (12:3), which permeates history (17:7). The covenantal promises are “everlasting” (17:7, 8, 13, 18) and this covenant is grounded in historical acts which can be remembered (15:7). He stands above history as its Judge (18:25), and solidifies and protects His covenant with Abraham with historical acts (12:17, 20:3). But most of all, Yahweh’s historical immanence is revealed in the fact that He has spoken.

The spoken word, amidst all the varied means of Yahweh’s self-revelation, is the most frequent and most important. It is the key to understanding all of Abraham’s actions from leaving his father’s house (12:1-4) to the near sacrifice of his son (22:1-3).[4] Because Yahweh has spoken,[5] obedience is imperative and must not only be immediate (12:4), but also wholehearted. Abraham exemplifies the desired response by leaving his sense of identity and security when Yahweh calls (12:3). Indeed, this leaving of his identity also gets highlighted when Yahweh gives him a new name, symbolizing Abraham’s new identity under covenant (17:5).

Subsequent to the initial call, Yahweh also covenants with Abraham in a bilateral covenant involving promises from Yahweh and obligations for both parties. Abraham’s responsibilities include walking blameless before Yahweh (17:1) and ritual circumcision.[6] First Abraham, then his offspring, must be circumcised on the eighth day after birth (21:4). Circumcision symbolizes the commitment between Abraham and Yahweh (17:10), and those who disobey will be cut off from the people (17:14).

Yahweh solidifies the covenant in a dream where He walks through the carcasses of designated animals (15:8). Generally, in ancient near eastern treaty ceremonies, it is not the suzerain who walks through the carcasses, but the vassal. This action signifies the painful destruction of the vassal should they scorn the covenantal stipulations. Yet, interestingly, here it is not the vassal, Abraham, but the suzerain, Yahweh, committing to take the punishment for the broken covenant (15:17-18). Clearly the covenant entails a personal commitment by Yahweh. Indeed, He even covenants with Abraham twice (15:7-19, 17:1-14) to emphasize His deep investment in the fulfillment of this covenant.[7]

This is not an absent or silent deity. Yahweh is a God who engages with and gives purpose to the world and his servant Abraham.

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[1] The text is relatively unclear as to whether other deities actually exist or not. The title used of Yahweh in 14:19, “God Most High” (which will be discussed later), assumes a possible hierarchy of deities, at the top of which resides Yahweh. Abrahamic religion may not be strictly monotheistic, but whatever the case, the assumption of the text is that only one deity, Yahweh, is to be followed by Abraham.

[2]That Abrahamic religion assumes Yahweh interacts with free creatures is demonstrated most clearly in the narrative where Abraham barters with Yahweh over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah. Though the cities are not spared, the narrative directs us to understand Yahweh as a deity able to be reasoned with, objected to, and who might legitimately change His mind (18:24-32).

[3] Abrahamic religion knows nothing of how Yahweh relates to time, but only that He participates in historical events.

[4] While noting the spoken word as the primary means of revelation, it should also be noted that Yahweh frequently appears to Abraham as well. These appearances often without explanation, but at times are explained as the Angel of Yahweh (16:7, 9, 11; 22:11, 15). Angel of Yahweh appearances often get highlighted narratives focused on God’s interaction others who are not Abraham: Hagar and Ishmael (16:7) and possibly Abraham’s servant whom he sent to find Isaac a bride (24:40).

[5] Other means by which Yahweh communicates are also important. Specifically, when Abraham is connected with prophets (20:7) through his visions (15:1) and receiving the “word of Yahweh,” (15:1, 4).

[6] That circumcision is distinctively male rite suggests Abrahamic religion is patriarchal. Male headship is assumed in Abrahamic religion, and Abraham is the representative of the whole household. This may explain the emphasis on gravesites, for it allows subsequent followers of Yahweh access to Abraham and ideally the blessings which flow from his historical actions. This also explains the unquestioned authority Abraham wields with the members of his household, even when he exiles his son (21:14). Yet, while Abrahamic religion is clearly patriarchal, it should be noted that Sarah is not excluded entirely from the narrative. She is included in the covenant (17:15) and is as much a chosen vessel as Abraham, for the child of promise comes through her, not Hagar. Also, Hagar narratives not only suggest Yahweh’s concern for the outcast and marginalized, but also that Yahweh makes promises to women.

[7] In chapter 17, Abraham is not the only one included in the covenant. Four parties are involved. Yahweh’s obligations include making Abraham the father of many nations (17:2), giving him the land of Canaan (17:8,), bringing kings from him as offspring (17:6), and making the covenant everlasting (17:7). Abraham’s obligations include circumcision (17:10-14) and a name change (17:5). Sarah’s also involves a name change (17:15) and the promise offspring (17:16), specifically Isaac (17:21). And Ishmael’s promise includes offspring and nations coming from him (17:20), while circumsicion still remains necessary even though he isn’t the child of promise. Once again, suggesting this covenant is conditioned upon obedience.

Keith Ward, in chapter 6 of Is Religion Dangerous, deals with the issue of morality and the Bible.  He addresses the charge that religious morality is based on an unthinking acceptance of old religious laws.  As his example, he brings up one of the most notorious of religious injunctions – Deuteronomy 20:15-18.

“But these instructions apply only to distant towns, not to the towns of the nations in the land you will enter. 16 In those towns that the Lord your God is giving you as a special possession, destroy every living thing. You must completely destroy the Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites, just as the Lord your God has commanded you.  This will prevent the people of the land from teaching you to imitate their detestable customs in the worship of their gods, which would cause you to sin deeply against the Lord your God.

Geno-what did you say?  Isn’t that the very piece of evidence that we use to indict the Nazi’s, their attempted genocide of the Jews?  If we are to be morally consistent, shouldn’t we reject this piece of the Old Testament and anything/anyone that relies on this passage/the book/the collection of books that uses it.  Any religion that accepts this as part of their canon (read: Jews and Christians) are guilty of blindly basing their morality on old and outdated religious laws.  There are three ways that religious adherents have approached this problem. 

Approach One : The Morally Primitive Imagining History

This approach looks at the historical record first.  They notice that the Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites keep popping back up in the narrative and the archeological record.  As such, the ban was not actually implemented.  Secondarily, they note that the text itself was “written” [1] around 700BCE, but are describing events that are much, much older.  Taking these two points in tandem, they hypothesize that scribes and priests wrote into the narrative God commanding the slaughter of “present day” rival groups to delegitimize any territorial claims they might have.  This moral tradition (that it is ok to slaughter your opponents wholesale for the protection of your group) is morally primitive and is later corrected by the Prophets. [2]  

Pros:

• The Genocide did not happen historically
• God is not a mass murderer

Cons:

• The Text is a pack of lies
• The authors of our text are a bunch of evil liars

Approach Two: A Unique Situation

This next approach bites the bullet(s).  They say – our text says that God gave the command.  However, this is a unique situation and not universally applicable.  God only intended it for the Israelites in this particular situation, which was necessary for the perpetuation of the Israelites.  We see that it is unique because of all of the other moral injunctions in the Hebrew Bible contradict “the Ban.”  This allows us to maintain the integrity of the text while cutting off this law from the others that we can abstract moral principles from.  It was said and it happened [3] but it was only for one situation and one time.

Pros:

• Maintains the integrity of the text and its authors
• The Ban was a one-time affair and not repeatable nor abstractable.

Cons:

• God is evil and bipolar
• We have mass murderers in our religious tradition.

Option Two point Five: A developing God

Ward does not mention this, but it is possible that God is developing along with his creation.  In order for him to know how and what to be and act, he must have something to act and be contrasted against.  After all, how can I know what red is if I have never seen it?  Likewise, how can God know what wrong is unless he has done it?  This is a Hegelian view of God.  Under this view, God had not fully developed his morals yet.  The narrative reflects God’s moral at that point in time.  Later on his morals developed and he understood that all life had value and that it was wrong of him to order the genocides.

Pros:

• God was not evil – only immature and is now mature through his interaction with his creation
• Maintains the integrity of the text

Cons:

• God is a developing being and is not always right and moral

Approach Three: Morally Primitive People Acting on a Self-Correcting Partial Understanding of God

This third approach tries to address the weaknesses of the other two.  It suggests that we have a roughly accurate reporting of what these people think was happening.  That is to say, the ancient Israelites thought that God wanted them to purge all peoples who threatened their identity.  After all, surviving and maintaining your identity was an incredibly difficult thing to do in the ancient world – something we cannot fully grasp in this blessed age of comfort and inconvenience.  They had part of God figured out – that she wants total devotion, but they also had part of him wrong – that he has deemed all human lives of worth and the wholesale slaughter of peoples is wrong.  In time, they would discover more and more about God and come to understand this, but at this time in their development, they had not reached this understanding.   There is some perception of the divine will, but a limited one.  Under this interpretive model, the Bible contains humanity’s developing understanding of God.

Pros:

• God is not evil
• Maintains the integrity of the text and the developing moral understanding of its authors
• The Ban was based on a partial but flawed understanding of God

Cons:

• The Bible is something to be wrestled with, not a direct perfect view of God and its interaction with history (can’t take it at face value)

Out of these three [4] views that Ward presents, I am uncertain as to which I follow.  My background tells me that all live is Gods and he can do with it as he pleases.  Based off of that, option two seems the most viable.  However, I also maintain that God is morally consistent and always has been.  This forces me to at least consider option three.  If I am forced to choose, this is the option I am going with right now, even though I am uncomfortable with how this view forces me to hold the Bible.  As Ward notes on page 138, “Believers have no magical route to moral certainty, nothing that undercuts the hard process of moral analysis and reflection.”  But it is the same for nonbelievers.  They have to give an account of how life can have meaning in the face of nothingness – or at least fleetingness.  If my flame flickers and then is snuffed out – does it really matter what it burned while it was here?  I am not saying atheists cannot give such an account [5] – only noting that it too is a path forged through analysis and reflection and is not self-evident.

1. that is, the “final” version was edited together around this time – not that these traditions were invented at this time. the traditions behind the text are much, much older [↩]
2. see Ezekiel 18:20 [↩]
3. or at least was attempted [↩]
4. four, if you add 2.5, the one that I added [↩]
5. even though I freely admit that I ultimately reject their account [↩]

I have a question to ask you folks:

Me? Its gotta be the violence of God in the Old Testament. I can handle textual composition problems. I can handle problems of causality and God’s power, and I can deal with contradictions between the narrative of the Bible and what we can tell about the world through science and history. But when I look at the God of the New Testament and the God of the Old Testament, I can understand how some early Christians opted to ignore or reject the Old Testament completely. I am no where near close to doing that, but I am just saying that I can understand the impulse.

So, what does this for you? Be honest. There’s gotta be problems that you are struggling with (or you are probably ignoring implications of certain things).

Update: There is another question that I run into when I study the New Testament period. It has the potential to reshape the way I look at the canon we have constructed. I’ve wrestling with it for some time. I hope to be able to articulate it well sometime soon in the future.

A few Mondays ago we completed our analysis of the two major story arcs in the Acts of Thecla.  Today we’ll take some time to recap the two previous posts.

The first arc of the Acts of Thecla serves to introduce Paul and Thecla and to begin the critique of the opponents of the writer’s community. The ideals of the state, of the family, and of Paul himself are being questioned. The second arc repeats this process and intensifies it, demonstrating the victory of Thecla and what she represents. The interesting thing here is what the Acts of Thecla does with gender roles of the day. Interpreters have often said that Thecla moves into maleness to overcome her opponents, thereby subverting the male under the female. [1]   In reality, something much more subtle is occurring than a mere gender critique.

Acts of Thecla is not equating the feminine with the masculine, nor lifting the one above the other. Instead, the Acts of Thecla is critiquing the very notion of gender itself! Notice that Thecla attacks male dominated society at almost every turn, but also uses the category of feminity to critique Paul. [2]   Paul increasingly become feminized and his feminine passivity is being critiqued! 

By doing so, the Acts of Thecla argues that neither construction of gender categories is adequate. Friday we will conclude this post series on the Thecla tradition by traveling farther back in time and look at what created the ideological hole that Thecla was trying to fill.

1. Ibid., 271. [↩]
2. Ibid., 272. [↩]

Friday we looked at how Thecla began her journey from the standard Roman passive feminity on through standard Roman active masculinity toward the early Christian ideal of nongendered activity.  Today, we will look at the second arc of the Acts of Thecla and see how she completes her journey.

The second arc begins in much the same way the first one does, but with a furthering of the themes presented at the conclusion of the first arc. Instead of merely passively watching Paul, Thecla is now actively following him. Paul, and therefore the branches of Christianity that claim him as an authority, claims to not know Thecla when Alexander asks about her, receding farther into femininity by becoming even more passive. When she is accosted by Alexander, “the first man of Antiochenes,” instead of tacitly rejecting him as she did her fiancé, she explicitly rejects the advances of this male, going so far as to “rip off his chlamys, an imperial or military mantle,” to “denude him of his crown, making him appear as one conquered,” [1] and to humiliate him in public. She effectively steals his honor at this point in the narrative.  We need to mention that power in antiquity was always taken from someone else, not earned or obtained by any other means.  In addition, she finally gains her voice. Up until this point she has been silent in the narrative. This rejection of male dominance enrages Alexander, the symbol of male and state dominance, at which point he hauls her in front of the governor demanding justice.

In the second episode of the second arc, the 2^nd trial of Thecla, maintains the same structure as the first trial, but continues add agency to Thecla and to further critique the standard notions of family and civic values. Queen Tryphaena becomes her replacement mother, Paul is nowhere to be found, and the female crowd comes to her defense against the absurd accusations of the court.

The climax of the second arc in the third episode is the most dramatic yet. Everything is aligned against Thecla. She is stripped naked, attacked by a lioness, an assortment of wild beasts, and almost pulled apart by the legs by two bulls that have fires lit under the “appropriate spot[s]”. Through each of these attacks on her honor and body, she is delivered by god or its agents. A cloud of fire reminiscent of the cloud that hid the glory of god during the 40 years of Israel wandering in the desert hides Thecla’s nakedness from the crowd. The lioness sent to attack befriends her and saves her from the assortment of wild animals. The cloud of fire burns the ropes connecting her to the bulls. Thus Thecla is saved once again. During the course of all of this and fearing for her life, Thecla performs the ultimate act of Christian agency, she baptizes herself. In doing so, she fulfills Paul’s foreshadowing speech in chapter 25. This climatic episode serves to signal the complete and utter victory of Thecla over her opponents.

The fourth episode brings resolution to the second arc and to the story as a whole. After her deliverance from her execution, she dresses like a male and finds Paul again. Paul still is concerned with her temptation, even though she has remained steadfast through incredible trials. Yet, perhaps because of the numbers of people who were thronging around to hear Thecla speak, Paul relents and commands her to go forth and preach. She, though her transformation, has won over that which she became enamored with at the beginning of the story.

On Wednesday we will sum up the effects of the rhetoric.  Stay tuned and tell me where I am wrong!

1. Ibid., 268. [↩]

Previously, I talked about the cult of Thecla in general.  Today, I wanna look briefly at the physical shrine to Thecla at Seleucia.  We will see, through its physical development and imperial patronage, its popularity and subsequent influence on the minds of second through seventh century Christians.

As referenced Wednesday, Hagia Thekla, the main shrine dedicated to Saint Thecla, was located a mile south of Seleucia on the southern coast of Asia Minor. The earliest manuscript tradition only casually mentions this city as the place where Thecla travel to and died a peaceful death. [1]   Despite this, the city became the center around which the cult was centered. An international pilgrimage developed around this site to the extent that “regiments were stationed in Seleucia, offering pilgrims protection from the potential threats or robbery or assault.” [2]

The shrine there underwent several physical changes during its history; these changes are important because they demonstrate the importance of the Thecla tradition at the time. The original location of the site is unknown; more than one literary work suggests a different location than the earliest archaeological find and we are certain the site has been the subject of embellishment in the past. Both the Life and Miracles ((Ibid., 37.)) and Egeria’s diary [3]   speak of a much simpler site which was not connected to grotto. [4]   The earlier of the two works, Egeria’s diary from 384CE, [5] establishes the upper limit at which the original shrine would have to have been built.  However, there is strong evidence that the shire, and therefore the Theclan devotion, may date back into the second century [6]

The importance of Hagia Thekla is underscored by site itself and its embellishment. The diary of Egeria describes a simple hillside shrine and church with many cells which housed devotees. In the second half of the fifth century the shrine was moved to a natural limestone grotto in the area and a small, three aisled church was built at the new site. [7] Later in the fifth century the emperor Zeno sponsored the site and consequently build over the shrine and church, increasing it in size four-fold. [8]   According to the 6th century historian Evagrius, Zeno was overthrown by his rival Basiliskos in 476 CE and spent time in Isauria. He attributed his protection and rise back to power to Saint Thecla. [9] The expanded site included a public bath, four cisterns, and another small church. The architectural style matches that of the time. [10]   This imperial patronage and the increased building activity reflect the changing needs and increased demands of the pilgrimage site.

Hagia Thekla was connected with political intrigue and was embellished, which demonstrates its importance in the second [11] through seventh centuries.  This attests to the vitality of the Thecla tradition and implores us to seek out the tradition’s drawing power in the minds of its adherents.

Now that we have explored the importance of the cult of Thecla, we can now turn to its makeup structurally, socially, and ideologically.  Monday, I’ll look at the devotees to the shrine and we can see what life was like there and in doing so, peer into the the thoughts and expectations of this important, but often overlooked, group of Christians.

1. Acts of Thecla 43. [↩]
2. Davis, The Cult of St. Thecla: An Introduction to Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity, 69. [↩]
3. Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels to the Holy Land, 121. [↩]
4. The grotto was the supposed location of the cave to which Life and Miracles and Acts of Thecla-Seleucia refer. [↩]
5. vs. the Life and Miracles from 450 CE [↩]
6. This upper limit may or may not be approximate to the actual founding of the shrine there. A case could be made for the shrine dating back to the writing down of the Acts of Thecla as it makes a point to mention the location of Seleucia even though it makes no sense whatsoever in the narrative. Perhaps as is the case with the Acts of Thecla-Seleucia, the author intended to give legitimacy to the location of the shrine at Seleucia. If this is the case, which is much more unlikely, the upper limit would be dropped to the late second century. What is certain is that the shrine and its pilgrimage were well established by 384CE and originated at a substantially earlier point in time. [↩]
7. Davis, The Cult of St. Thecla: An Introduction to Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity, 37. [↩]
8. George H. Forsyth, "Architectural Notes on a Trip through Cilicia," Dumbarton Oaks Papers 11 (1957): 223. The original site was around 20 meters long and the embellishment under Zeno resulted in a basilica that was over 80 meters long. [↩]
9. Davis, The Cult of St. Thecla: An Introduction to Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity, 38. [↩]
10. Ibid. [↩]
11. This is the most optimistic date, but it was certainly important well before 385 CE [↩]

Over a year ago I wrote a number of posts on the topic of Evangelical Feminism vs. Biblical Complementarianism. This post will further that discussion.

If Patriarchy was a Pre-Fall reality, then it would be present within the biblical text in some discernible form. I previously demonstrated that the 2^ndcreation account (in Genesis 2) does not support such a reading, but I said nothing at the time regarding the 1^st creation account in Genesis 1.

Genesis 1:26-28 describes the creation of humanity “in the image of God” and after his “likeness.” There are a number of hermeneutical and theological difficulties related to these phrases - particularly what exactly it means to be created in God’s image and how that relates to the phrase about “according to our likeness.” Couple those things also with the use of plural pronouns and you’ve got a longstanding theological and exegetical argument.

What I want to demonstrate in this post is that the structure of the pericope provides us insight into the author’s intention –that is, the way he formulates the narrative gives us insight into what he means by the mysterious phrases. More to the point, though, when we see what he means, we are also given insight into the Pre-Fall relationship between the man and the woman - one which, as I will demonstrate, is one of equality not patriarchy. This argument will, in effect,support my reading of Genesis 2 and 3 which says that Patriarchy is a result of the Fall, not prior to it – contrary to the BC position which says Patriarchy is inherent in the creation.

The Hebrew text in 1:27 reads something like this…(the word order is important – often skewed by our English translations)

“Created God humanity in His image. In the image of God He created him. Male and female He created them.”

Structurally, the text is a Chiasm (an inverted parallelism) followed by a straight forward Parallelism. Notice the Chiasm 1^st…

A Created humanity

B God

C man In His image

C’ In the image

B’ of God

A’ He created him

Surrounding the whole things is the Creative purposes of God. Central to the chiasm, and thus the emphasis of the writer, is the Image of God. Unfortunately, besides the fact that it is the creative act of God, no other exegetical clue is provided for us to help us discern the substance of the Image of God…that is, until the parallelism which begins with the 2^nd half of the chiasm:

A    In the Image of God B. He created C. Him

A    Male and Female B. He created C. Them

What the structuring of this narrative suggests, then, is that whatever it means to be in the image of God, it must be fully understood in the context of BOTH male and femaleness. Man is not the image of God without woman and woman is not the image of God without the man. They are both, together, the image of God. In other words – what the chiastic structure gives emphasis to (the image of God), the parallelism gives substance to (male and female).

Now notice that there is no implied subordination within this structuring. Rather, there is implied equality. Nothing within this text points to patriarchy or male headship. The Biblical Complementarian argument fails to account for the fact that this first creation account doesn’t even have a creation order for the genders. This narrative suggests that male and female are equal before God – for they both, together stand before Him and are equally created in His image – so much for the old discussions about whether women were really created in God’s image or not.

I know that BC’s generally don’t argued from Genesis 1 to support their view, but I think this structure provides the basis for understanding Genesis 2 (by means of structural particularization: a general idea occurs first, followed by the specifics of that general idea. The specifics are understood in light of the preceding general comment) and, thus, another point indicating the essential equality of men and women – both ontologically and functionally. Indeed, they are both given dominion and told to subjugate the earth. There are no inherent difference of roles within this text.

Something I typed up a few months ago and forgot to post. Enjoy:

While perusing a Southern Baptist weekly  newspaper, I noticed an article praising a pack of SBCers in South Dakota for their gospel witness to the motorcyclists attending the annual Sturgis bike rally.

The article applauded the group, not for its strong testimony accomplished through service and Christ-likeness, but for establishing their witness by dangling a free Harley Davidson before the bikers.

The group spent the entire year accruing enough funds to procure a brand new Harley to give away at the rally. Their deal: if you listen to our 3 minute gospel presentation, we will permit you to place your name in this drawing for the free motorbike.

Apparently, over 2,000 bikers heard their propaganda, and supposedly some 700 of them “professed faith” (who knows how many of these professions were made by sober people).
Is this what our gospel has been reduced to? A 3 minute presentation propped up by a symbol of American materialism? Have we really cheapened our gospel that much?

No longer is Jesus attractive by merit of His cross and resurrection, we must now try to sell him to unbelievers. No longer does the grace of God stand on its own, it must now be buttressed by Harley Davidson. No longer does Christianity speak against the trends of this world, but now we join in on the trends for our gospel to have relevance. No longer must one understand the narrative of salvation history in order to comprehend the cross, she merely needs to accept a gospel which can be proclaimed in the time it takes to pop popcorn in a microwave.

It took God a few thousand pages to proclaim his great message of salvation and we think we can reduce it to 3 minutes! Our cheap grace, shallow, manipulative gospel has produced generations of cheap grace, shallow, manipulative Christians. A cheap grace gospel is no gospel at all, and it is certainly not a gospel that should praised in a Christian newspaper. The goodness of God, not Harley Davidson, leads people to repentance.

**I think I’m particularly frustrated by this stupidity this week because the sermon I heard on Sunday was a ‘Salvation’ message with no cross, no resurrection, and no involvment of the intellect.

I have had a terrible approach to the study of scripture since the great fracture of 2002 (my adventures at Central Christian College of the Bible). As I am reapporaching my faith in the wake of that experiance, I am looking for good ways to reapproach the Bible. One of my convictions is constructing a book by book Biblical theology. Another one that I am looking to start is paraphrasing the Bible, one chapter at a time. Basically, all it would/has entail[ed] is the translation of a passage of scripture into my own vernacular. I think this helps one see the curves of the narrative of the passage, but this paraphrase would be an excellent item to revisit the next time you go to approach the same text.

What do you all think? Does this idea sound fruitful? Do any of you utilize this approach in your study of the Word of God?

One of the more disconcerting passages in all the Bible is the rape of Tamar, David’s daughter, by her half-brother Amnon (2 Samuel 13). As the narrative goes, Tamar is “loved” by her brother because he was tormented by her beauty. He feigns an illness to be alone with Tamar. When she brings him food to eat, he seizes her and rapes her despite her fervent resistance. After the rape, Amnon loathes his sister more than he ever “loved” her. He thrusts her away as a slave, a piece of property which was expended and now retains no value. To Amnon, she is no longer “Tamar,” she is now “this woman.” She is no longer a person who is “loved,” she is chattel to be discharged. [1]

Amnon learned this behavior from his father – that is, he learned to treat people, especially women, as property instead of humans created in God’s image. Just in the previous chapter David is finally confronted about his rape of Bathsheba and his clandestine execution of Uriah. People and their lives were mere objects to be consumed to David. He cared little for love, for family, for holiness. He cared only for consumption, and people are just another thing to be procured, retain, owned, and conquered.

What I find interesting in this whole matter is how intercourse and economics relate. As the narrative advances, we find Solomon, in the climax of his rule, with infinite wealth and thousands of sex-slaves. Women are objects to be owned – he too learned this from his father. Relationships, love, or devotion have no place in his world. Only objects exist, objects which are bought and sold, owned and operated, controlled and dominated. [2]

When economics and power become the chief agenda of a people, the objectification of others comes to dictate the landscape. This is particularly the case with sex. Sex becomes nothing more than, in our world, two consumers devouring one another, envision the other as an item whose individual purpose is to satisfy my desires without regards to the consequences of this behavior. That’s what consumerism is at its nastiest – a inexhaustible sport of stockpiling objects for one’s own agenda without considering the consequences of that consumption either for the earth, the other person, the community, or the world. It’s all about the ego.

Intercourse and economics – isn’t staggering how a person’s view on one stimulates certain assumptions about the other? When one views economics as merely a means of consumption and gaining wealth, power, and property, one will perceive sex the same way. But if economics is principally about honoring God through the giving away of one’s possessions, one will see sex differently as well. It is not about my desires, it is not about my consumption; it is about the other person, their will, their enjoyment, their desire. People are no longer objects to be owned and dominated (such as in pornography), they are people made in the Image of God! The denial of the ego in economic areas translates into the denial of the ego in the bedroom. This is why Paul lists greed right along side a bunch of sexual sins in Colossians 3. He realized the connection!

Its seems, then, that if we yearn for holiness, maybe our deity of covetousness and wealth ought to go first. If economics is linked to intercourse, imagine what else it is relates to – violence, anger, division, quarreling, pride! Maybe dispossession isn’t only about abnegation, [3] but about sanctification in all areas of life.

1. there is some credence to the thought that this objectification of women is inherent within the Torah. After all, women are listed among the property not to be coveted in the 10 Commandments. [↩]
2. Solomon’s disregard for others in favor of his own economic advancement is well documented among biblical scholars. This actually ends up splitting the kingdom after he dies, if you remember. [↩]
3. Thanks Theotica! [↩]

Is the Acts of the Apostles history? [1] Boy, I bet that could set off a good debate `round these parts! (But please see the first footnote and the links contained therein before you jump all over me.) This is an interesting and valuable question indeed. Late last month a couple of scholars that I enjoy reading brought up this very issue.

April DeConnick, at the Forbidden Gospels Blog, brought this topic up in her post: Is Luke a trustworthy historian? In the post, she asks why Acts is written off as a Lukan myth. She acknowledges that in the past people have trusted in its historical value a little too much and not treated it as histories should be treated. However, the conception of Acts as history has shifted to the other extreme. She argues that Acts must have been based off earlier sources and that understanding these sources is valuable in learning about the earliest Christians traditions and as a consequent constructing the earliest Christian history. Her argument is as follows:

1. When Luke uses Mark, he does not rework Mark as much as Matthew.
2. When Luke uses Q, Q-scholars tell us that he retains Q better in terms of verbage and order than Matthew. In fact, our reconstructed Q is versed according to Luke.
3. Luke tells us in the beginning of his gospel that he relied on older sources to rewrite the Christian narrative which we apparently trust given our hypothesis that Luke is a second edition of Mark.
4. If we think that Luke used Mark and Q as literary sources, wouldn’t the best assumption be that he also used older traditional sources for the composition of Acts?
5. If 4 is valid, then shouldn’t we be trying to figure out what those older traditions are and what they tell us about Christianity earlier than Luke?

The first comment on DeConnick’s post summed up my thoughts on this issue quite nicely. Judy Redman asked why do people think that Luke’s gospel is reasonably accurate but that in writing Acts Luke engaged in “wild flights of fancy“? Judy points out that just because something is written “from the perspective of a particular faction of the early church does not make it myth.”

Mark Goodacre, over at the NT Gateway Blog, picks this question up and first goes into a critique of the use of Q (an interesting discussion in its own right) and ends with a rather positive view on Luke as a historian with qualifications. It is quite obvious that there is no video taping of history in Luke or Acts (or in any of the Biblical books for that matter), but that the situation is not as bleak as some modern scholars might think.

One of the other comments on April’s original post, left by JC Baker, asked the excellent question: What, if anything, can we know about history from our texts? DeConnick wrote up a great post in response that is worth reading now matter you interest in the Bible [2] [3] : How can we know anything from our texts? She outlines four steps everyone should take when glistening a text’s modern historical value.

First, one should seek to identify the “authorial revision of received tradition” because every furthered tradition has been recieved by an earlier tradition and most likely been edited to some extent. After this is accomplished, one must “read against the grain” to seek out the parts of the narrative that are inherently troublesome for the author. These troublesome bits are most likely to be historical. [4] Next, one should try to identify the back story that the author does not give, but the recipients would be familiar with. Lastly, use contemporary texts to compare and identify agreements (more likely to be history) and disagreements (most likely to be functions of the point of view of the author or community than history). Using these methods one can begin to ascertain a text’s historical value.

In conclusion, Acts is not a history in the modern sense of the world. Acts is useful in many respects for building a history of the early church before 100CE but is not completely authoritative as history [5] and should not be used in lieu of a history book. There just was not the intention there to write the same sort of thing we look for in a modern history. However, that is not to say that Acts has zero historical value. Instead, through the processes outlined above, one can sift through Acts and use it to piece together a modern history of the early Christian movement.

Further reading: Danny at Danny’s Blog Cabin takes up the issue of the Harmony of the gospels and comes to a very negative conclusion. While I disagree with some of his conclusions and demands of the text, it is a very open and honest approach to the issue and worth reading and wrestling with.

1. I am talking about what our idea of what history is, namely an accurate description of events, both in chronology and substance from an unbiased 3rd-person perspective, not the way the ancients viewed history, which were stories that were designed to illustrate lessons to be learned by the reader. [↩]
2. devotional, scholarly, or any mix of the two [↩]
3. or of any text, for that matter [↩]
4. note, this does not by itself invalidate the bits that serve the author’s purpose, but the bits that don’t we can be more sure about their historicity [↩]
5. See the conflict between Acts 9 and Gal 1 for an example [↩]