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Superstition in Judaism and Christianity November 5, 2009

Posted by Damian in Judaism and Christianity.
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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.
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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.
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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.

Conceptualising God’s gender, blasphemy, and devotional passion. December 23, 2008

Posted by Damian in Judaism and Christianity, Relating to God, Translation & Linguistics.
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I’ve been reading John Hobbins’ Ancient Hebrew Poetry for a long while now, but I have to say that he is an intelligent fellow writing such extensive posts that often what he writes is over my head. But, he linked to some of his favourite posts recently, and through this I found a fascinating inter-religious dialogue between him and David Stein on the translation issues of gender in Hebrew.

I have always felt that gender was superficial in the Old Testament, even before I learnt about the differences between Hebrew and English grammatical gender. In this post, John gives a fantastic defence of the degendering of specific parts of the OT, and of retaining gender in others. However, David gave strong reasons here that we as Christians should encourage a genderless conception of God in those we disciple and those we engage with:

For many praying Jews I know, however, relating to God as a person is anathema. I hear 2 reasons for this. In general, it is inherently misleading to pray to any one conception of the deity, and thus it is done only briefly, heuristically, and in passing. In particular, the concept of God as a male figure simply stops the conversation, choking off the ability to speak. Presumably, this reaction is due to experiential associations of maleness with abuses of power, but the reason seems less important than the phenomenon itself. In the Jewish world that I inhabit, gender-sensitive God-language correlates not with devotional malaise but rather with a restoration of devotional passion. This language gives us a God that (or whom) we can pray to again.

‘It is inherently misleading to pray to any one conception of God’. I suspect that if we accepted this reasoning, ecumenism would be more widespread. I would never say that every concept of God is the correct concept, but I think it is arrogant to claim that, given the infinity of our God, that my concept is the complete concept. The sheer number of people declaring those in disagreement heretics in Protestantism to me proves the need for a less final concept of God.

It is important to realise to this end, that if scripture intended to tell us that God should be envisioned as male, it would not have implied it, but would have said it outright at some point (or, for that matter, the millions of pages of literature that Judaism has produced would have said it). Hence, by saying ‘lord’, ‘father’, or whatever name God might be give, it is instead describing the relationship we have with God. Social roles have gender bias; describing God in terms of these roles does not assume that he has these genders. One might choose to make a distinction here, between social, grammatical, and sexual gender. Sexual gender describes physical attributes. A woman is a woman, a man is not. Neither is a guitar. Grammatical gender does not reflect the noun it describes – the sun is feminine in German, despite having no notably feminine attributes. Social gender describes the role one plays. A man can still ‘mother’ a child; women can act paternally; this has nothing to do with the physical attributes or grammatical gender. God can be described as relating to us socially in ways both masculine and feminine. But at no point does it say that God has a penis and a beard, nor for that matter, breasts and ovaries.

This is important given the negative associations that many have with masculine abuses of power. In this way, ‘gender-sensitivity’ is a good term to use for this de-gendering. If one cannot relate to a masculine God, then there is nothing blasphemous about choosing to relate to a feminine God, because God encompasses both masculinity and femininity, and it is unlikely that any one concept of God could ever encompass all that is God. It is, therefore, not important how we conceptualise the divine, because we can never conceptualise it in its totality, but rather that we strive to challenge our conceptions (never imagine our conception is the only one), and be sure to relate to the divine (by not limiting ourselves to a conception that we cannot pray to).

There is one thing our language and our concepts – our theology – must do, however. It must continuously restore our devotional passion. And if degendering is dedicated to that end, then I find it hard to argue with.

What is idolatry? December 14, 2008

Posted by Damian in Ancient Near Eastern Thought, Eastern Orthodoxy, Judaism and Christianity.
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‘Thou shalt not commit idolatry’ is the third commandment. It is the reason (as far as I know) that many Protestant churches refuse to have images of Christ, the saints, angels, or Christian art or icons in their churches. It reads:

You shall not make for yourself an idol, or any likeness of what is in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the water under the earth. You shall not worship them or serve them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God (Exodus 20:4-5 – NASB)

or, alternatively (and more classically):

Thou shalt not make thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters beneath the earth: Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God… (Deuteronomy 5:8-9 – KJV)

First of all when scripture speaks of ‘any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters beneath the earth’, it is not speaking of artwork, but of items of worship. More specifically, its speaking of the concept that a deity was transubstantiate with its image. Now, this is a misrepresentation of most ANE religion (the image was more a representation and mediator for divine presence, similar to common views of scripture) and to be entirely honest, Israel itself practised something very similar for a long period of time. From the points of view of other members of the region, this commandment must have been laughable. But theologically the point was clear: Not only were images of other Gods to be made or used in worship, but God was too expansive to be contained or represented by any idol.

Just to ensure this is clear; this means that this commandment is solely about issues of deity. The Jewish faith takes this seriously – an entire tractate, Avodah Zarah, is devoted to issues of idolatry in the Talmud – and never once does it confuse this commandment with condemning anything but worshipping the images of other Gods, and of making images for worship of God.

Christianity has an issue here, because Christ, the man, is part of the divine Godhead that we worship. Are images of Christ to be allowed? Protestantism addressed this by emptying the cross. Much Protestantism then went on to remove icons and art depicting Christ, and the saints, and theological concepts. It seems to me the issues of idolatry – the worshipping of other gods – is getting a little mixed up.Why am I bothering with all this? Because Father Stephen posted recently on the issue, and he almost always has something wise to say.

What seems inescapable to me is that there be icons. If you outlaw them in the Church, they will still occupy the Church in the persons of the congregation. We cannot say, “Only read the Scripture, do not look at me as an icon.” Nobody gets that kind of free ride as a Christian. You’re an icon whether you like it or not. And there will be other images as well – either well done reflecting heaven itself – or poorly reflecting everything other than heaven. But there will be icons. God give us grace to rightly honor the windows to heaven He has opened for us, and to be a window to heaven for all who see us.

You see, for Father Stephen, there is a difference between an icon, which is a window into heaven, and an idol, which worships a god other than God. Icons can be images, yes. But they too can be music, or actions, or people. And, because we are the church, we are icons whether we like it or not (2 Corinthians 3:18). We should be more concerned with ourselves, what we represent as people of God, than with the artwork on our walls, with the Christ on our crucifixes, with the saints we revere. Because, when it comes down to it, people see God in the way we reflect Him, not in our choice of decor.

So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image. (2 Corinthians 3:18, NLT)