Superstition in Judaism and Christianity November 5, 2009
Posted by Damian in Judaism and Christianity.Tags: historical fact, human experience, luck, magic, occult, occultism, paranormal, religion, resurrection, scientific knowledge, sefer hasdim, supernatural, superstition
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Claude Mariottini links to an interesting article on occult Judaism, but I’m not sure about his conclusion:
…belief in the supernatural has existed throughout human history and is present in almost every culture of the world. The article also demonstrates that religious people are not immune from believing in the supernatural. Religious people believe in the supernatural because they believe in an order of existence that is beyond human understanding and that goes beyond the visible universe.
Superstition, however, is a distortion of true religious faith because it is a system of beliefs that is not based on historical facts, on human experience, or scientific knowledge. Superstitious claims are associated with the paranormal, occult practices, belief in magic and luck, and the fear that the lives of individuals can be affected by these elements.
Now, to me it seems that religion is, above anything else, a belief in the supernatural. Even the most simple form of Christianity believes in a supernatural resurrection, or in a supernatural God supernaturally made into flesh. I’m not sure how Christian belief- or any other religious belief – has any more grounding in historical fact, human experience, or scientific knowledge than someone who wears an amulet with the name of an angel on it to protect themselves from evil spirits. And to be honest, I think that most religious belief is based as much on fear – at the least a fear of being without communion with God, and at the worst a fear of God himself – as any superstition.
And I think Dr Mariottini might have missed the point of the article in interpreting it this way (or perhaps I misunderstood him?), as it ends like this:
And despite how far into the modern world Jews have moved, they continue to hear the echo of Sefer Hasdim, the famous medieval text, which advised, “One should not believe in superstitions, but it is best to be heedful of them.”
Which to me suggests that, whilst we should not believe in superstitions, we should not disregard them. Now, I’m not a superstitious person. But I hesitate in making the statements that Dr Mariottini makes in disregarding superstition as a distortion of true religious faith. I think that superstition often makes up a vibrant and rich part of religious faith, a part which I don’t think it intrinsic to Christianity – or to any religion – but that is certainly not a part that needs to be swiped at or treated as inferior.
Ongoing revelation – should the canon be open? September 29, 2009
Posted by Damian in Biblical Exegesis and Interpretation, Church and Christian History, Judaism and Christianity.Tags: apocrypha, Apostles, Caanan, canaanite, canaanite genocide, canon, canonicity, christ, christ benchmark, christianity, Church fathers, desert fathers, ecclesial deism, ecclesial theism, Enoch, Eschatology, Exodus, God, God-breathed, inspiration, judaism, magisterium, Martin Hengel, Mishnah, nature of scripture, old testament, ongoing revelation, rabbinic judaism, revelation, scripture, talmud
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A few posts over the past month have had me thinking on the issue of canon. Yes, I know I’ve written on canon before. But this time I wasn’t wondering about canon formation. I’ve been thinking about canon closure. Why was the canon closed? What does it mean that the canon is closed? What is inspiration? These are the kind of questions I’ve been thinking about.
Firstly, a disclaimer: These are not finished thoughts. This is why everything is framed in questions. These aren’t my stated beliefs, I’m simply exploring, and I’d like all those who read it to comment so we all can explore it further.
In a comment on Jeff’s site, I’ve been speaking about how I read scripture as an ‘ongoing revelation’ to Israel:
The best analogy to me is to compare the revelation of scripture to a journey as a Christian. When you first meet God, most of us have a very simple and (to be honest) ignorant view of who God is. But, as you grow as a Christian, you discover more aspects of God, and this continues as your life as a Christian continues. If you’d always blogged, you could probably trace the ongoing process of discover, and you might go back to things you’d written years before, and disagree with them. But all of it is revelation. All of it is the product of your relationship with God. Scripture is a record of this process in the nation of Israel. If you look further back, the revelation is only partial. They’re a little ignorant. They project a lot of their understand of gods onto God. But they learn, and they get to know God better.
Jeff also asked me about how I know which parts to ‘trust’ and which parts not to. My response was that, as Christ is our most complete revelation of God, we, like the nation of Israel before us interpreting Torah through the prophets, interpret the Old Testament through Christ. However, as I thought more on the subject, I wondered: Was Christ our most recent revelation in the New Testament? Or were the apostles our most recent revelation of God?
This reminded me of something Bryan Cross wrote, on Ecclesial Deism (an interesting article if you’re interested in Catholicism):
Deism refers to a belief that God made the world, and then left it to run on its own. It is sometimes compared to “a clockmaker” winding up a clock and then “letting it run.” Deism is distinct from theism in that theism affirms not only that God created the world, but also that God continually sustains and governs all of creation. Ecclesial deism is the notion that Christ founded His Church, but then withdrew, not protecting His Church’s Magisterium (i.e., the Apostles and/or their successors) from falling into heresy or apostasy. Ecclesial deism is not the belief that individual members of the Magisterium could fall into heresy or apostasy. It is the belief that the Magisterium of the Church could lose or corrupt some essential of the deposit of faith, or add something to the deposit of faith.
Now, whilst I’m not Catholic, and hence not an ecclesial theist in Bryan’s sense, I wouldn’t say that I am an ecclesial deist either. I certainly believe that God continually sustains and governs his church in some sense, which is why I tend to be very Catholic in many respects (and hence why I attend a very Catholic Anglican cathedral). Thinking of concepts such as canon in this light (although I know this is not the application Bryan intended) yields some realizations that our stance on the canon has theological implications. If God continually sustains and governs his church, why did His revelation stop at St John’s Revelation? Mike Bird quoted Martin Hengel, who asked a similar question about the Old Testament canon:
Does the church still need a clearly demarcated, strictly closed Old Testament canon, since the New Testament is, after all, the ‘conclusion’, the goal and the fulfilment of the Old? Indeed, does not one face an essential contradiction if one, in an unhistorical biblicism, clings to a limited ‘Hebrew’, or better pharisaical, ‘canon’ from Jabneh? Must not the Old Testament remain a degree open to the New? [...]
The origin of Christianity as well as of rabbinic Judaism after 70 CE becomes at all historically interesting and comprehensible only through this literature, which includes in a wider dimension also Josephus, Philo and the Pseudepigrapha. One portion of this literature was preserved, sometimes unwillingly, by Christian tradition; the other comes to light now in the Qumran texts.
The great interest that this rich ‘post-biblical’ Jewish tradition finds among Jews and Christians could perhaps be assessed as a sign of the relative openness of the ‘canon’ in both directions, given the fact that Jews and Christians parted conclusively only after the destruction of Jerusalem toward the end of the first century CE.
Now, for exactly the reasons Hengel spoke of, I believe it’s incredibly important to remain abreast of both Old and New Testament apocryphal material. I’ve believed this (although practiced it imperfectly) for a while now. But I’ve never before thought about these in regards to the openness of the canon. After all, at the time they were written, none of the books currently in the bible were considered scripture; and there were plenty of books considered scripture by the writers of the bible, that are no longer in the canon. Surely this poses some problems for the canon as we know it? It suggests, after all, that the canon is a human invention – the canon references scripture outside of it, and does not speak of itself as scripture.
If God in fact continually sustains and governs his church, at least in the sense of its scripture, how do we account for the the texts that were once canonical and now are not? And how do we account for the gap in writings – have we had no new revelation of God in the past two thousand years? Now, the first question – how do we account for the the texts that were once canonical and now are not – might be answered by appealing to scripture’s nature as ongoing revelation. In a similar way to our learning that aspects of the Old Testament – slavery, sacrifice, genocide – are not what God desires through the New Testament, our ancestors learnt that Enoch did not describe God in the manner revealed to him. Boom! It was removed from the Canon (in many traditions, anyway). However, it does not explain why this didn’t happen to other texts that similarly had their revelations refined by the prophets and apostles that followed.
The second question – why have we had no new revelation of God in the past two thousand years – is the one I’m more curious about. In the rabbinic tradition, whilst the canon closed, it nevertheless has been ever-expanding. The Mishnah, and the Talmud were interpretations, and they in turn were interpreted, and that was recorded, and each generations wisdom and reading of scripture was recorded and commented upon by the next, each being regarded as a seed of revelation from God, to this very day. However, in Christian tradition, none of this writing has ever been considered as sacred or inspired in any way. In fact, it is almost as if the concept of ‘inspiration’ is one distant from any canonizing groups – the New Testament canon according to evidence that they were written by Apostles, rather than because it was considered ‘inspired’ by God.
I wonder, if we consider our scripture to be that which was inspired by God, then our scripture cannot end after the writings of the New Testament, and should not have a gap where the Apocrypha are. If Christ is the climax so far of God’s ongoing revelation of himself, perhaps – considering Christianity is an eschatological religion – this revelation will only be complete in the second coming. In which case, the same argument Hengel applied to the Apocrypha applies to everything written between then and the New Testament. The apostolic, church and desert fathers, the prayer books and Magisterium, sermons, scrolls, artworks and books, are all inspired by God, and are all scripture.
If this is the case, then how do we separate the wheat from the chaff? Good question. My suggestion is this: Whilst we may be awaiting a completed revelation of God, the benchmark of our own revelation is still Christ. If we read everything – Old Testament, Apocrypha, New Testament, and everything after it – through the lens of Christ (not called the Word of God for nothing), then that will separate truth from mistake and falsehood. This is something that is true even in the limited canon that we have – as is shown by the discussions that have been had recently about the Caananite genocide. If we are applying these judgments to our closed canon (and I hope we are, to avoid statements such as ‘the babies in the land of Canaan deserved to die’, or ‘God can kill whoever he wants, because he has ownership over everything’), then what is stopping us from reading other church texts in a similar way to how Rabbinic Judaism always has: Critically, but with a view to discovering God, and in our case, with Christ as our benchmark.
Gender-bending consciousness-raisers September 9, 2009
Posted by Damian in Biblical Exegesis and Interpretation, Judaism and Christianity, Relating to God.Tags: beyond gender, el maleh rachamim, female God, feminine characteristics, feminine God, femininity, gender, God is a mother figure, ha-rachaman, Hebrew, holy spirit, is God male?, Isaiah, masculinity, nooma, psalms, rechem, Rob Bell, Rob Bell's She, root fallacy, she, womb, wombful, word-play
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Doug Chaplin recently wrote about the Holy Spirit and God’s feminine characteristics:
I think we need to address the tendency that creeps into some prayer forms (especially) to make the Spirit the feminine side of God. Doing so seems to me to not only introduce the concept of gender into the Godhead (which is beyond gender), but to have the unfortunate side effect of reinforcing Father and Son as essentially masculine terms. I think that a careful use of feminine language about God has its place, who like a mother feeds us with the milk of the word. I just think that we should not confine such language to the Spirit.
Now, whilst I certainly agree that giving the Holy Spirit gender has the unfortunate side effect of reinforcing Father and Son as masculine; I wonder why Doug thinks that only careful use of feminine language has its place when speaking of God. Surely, if, as he says, the Godhead is beyond gender, and if both man and woman were made in his image, there should be no objection to the use of feminine language about God. What comes to mind is Rachel Blarenblat’s recent post:
This is such a radical idea to me that I want to repeat it again: he’s saying that this is our season for re-entering the womb of God. Part of what I love here is that while it may seem transgressive to consider God in these terms, it’s actually not. Granted, kabbalah goes some pretty interesting places when it comes to conceptualizing the multifaceted nature of the divine, but even in mainstream Jewish tradition there’s a connection between God and the womb. One of our most common names for God is ha-rachaman, “The Merciful” or “The Compassionate” — and rachaman shares a root with rechem, “womb.” When we speak of el maleh rachamim (“God, filled with compassion”) we’re talking about a God whose mercy flows forth from the divine womb. We may be using masculine language, but the implications of that language are strongly female. I see this as a kind of gender-bending consciousness-raiser which is so built-in to our liturgy that most of the time we forget it’s even there. God (masculine word) is the One in whose womb (feminine concept) all creation is nurtured.
I think Christians often have difficulty with gender-bending consciousness-raisers, and I think often it’s important – for both men and women – to think of God in feminine terms as well as masculine. Rachel’s observations above are one reason why I enjoy Jewish interpretation. Most Christians would cast aside such concepts as root fallacy (ie. simply because words share etymology, they do not necessarily share meaning), but Jewish interpretation encourages such word-play (it is, in fact, one reason they insist on a Hebrew bible). It seems to me that much of the womb imagery in the Psalms, or imagery of God birthing Israel in Isaiah lend credence to this. Even with my open mind toward gender-bending consciousness-raisers, I wince whenever I heard a Reverend open her sermon with, ‘Eternal God, Loving Saviour, Father and Mother of Us All’, which is one reason men especially should meditate on and reconcile themselves with the feminine nature of God. Women, I feel, are probably all to familiar with the masculine nature of God, but to women, I think this erects a barrier, that can be overcome through feminine language:
As I enter my third trimester of pregnancy, this language amazes me. If God is the wombful One, then I with my womb and its inhabitant am somehow partaking in a flicker of God’s experience as the nurturer of humanity. On a microcosmic level, my son is cushioned in the waters of my uterus, and I care for him in every way I can.
I remember once a friend of mine criticising Rob Bell’s ‘She’ video on the grounds of his mentioning feminine aspects to God (rather than any specific objections, such as, perhaps, root fallacy). And I wonder why he found this so horrifying. Is it really so bad for God to have a feminine and masculine attributes? Is it really so bad to talk about it?
P.S. Despite the this being posted amongst the women biblioblogging controversy, it’s truly a co-incidence. I’ve always read Velveteen Rabbi and in fact became aware of the biblioblogosphere through Rachel’s blog. Like Michael Bird, I simply haven’t come across many women bibliobloggers who share my own interests, and I’m not well-read enough to fill a meme with woman scholars who’ve influenced me. But I’m certainly part of no conspiracy.


