Poetry!
There are two common ways of presenting the text in most Bibles: in verses (as in the KJV) and in paragraphs, as text appears in a novel, so that while the verses are marked they’re really not noticeable as the main unit into which the text is divided. The former is the old standard, but the latter is becoming more and more popular.
But in Hebrew, the text not only appears in verses; it also comes in lines. Some modern translations put the psalms and various songs in the Bible into lines (which is an advance on the KJV), but they don’t for what they consider prose. But why not stick with the way it’s written in Hebrew?
An example: I was reading from 1 Chronicles 11 and it occurred to me that even though the translation I was reading didn’t present this bit of narrative as poetry, it certainly conformed to Hebrew poetic patterns. Notice the parallelism in the following:
And David and all Israel went to Jerusalem, which is Jebus,
where the Jebusites were, the inhabitants of the land.
But the inhabitants of Jebus said to David, “You shall not come in here!”
Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion (that is, the City of David).
Now David said, “Whoever attacks the Jebusites first will be chief and captain.”
And Joab the son of Zeruiah went up first and became chief.
Then David dwelt in the stronghold;
Therefore they called it the City of David.
And he built the city around it, from the Millo to the surrounding area.
Joab repaired the rest of the city.
So David went on and became great,
And Yahweh of hosts was with him.
Notice how the second line balances and (generally) parallels the first throughout? That’s Hebrew poetry, right there in one of the “prosiest” of passages. My ideal translation wouldn’t just be in verses, like the KJV and certainly wouldn’t be in paragraphs like a novel but rather would be in lines, just like this.
Kindergarten
The catchy title of the book All I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten unfortunately reflects the attitudes of some Christians toward growing in knowledge in their Christian faith. They think they learned all they needed to know in the early days of their church schooling and are complacently apathetic about progressing beyond their elementary knowledge. Many would just as soon leave faith and doctrine to others, who then dictate to them what they need to believe. The result is that they remain woefully ignorant about what they believe and why and have only a dim awareness of God — David E. Garland, Colossians, 69.
Leaving Behind (Mark 10:29-31)
For the sake of Christ and the good news of the coming kingdom, one can come to stand before choices in connection with which one either trusts in the gospel or drops that for the sake of family and possessions….
During the time in which Christ gives his mandates and the spreading of the good news makes its demands, while many do not believe and even are hostile, following also often means leaving behind. This is not the detached leaving behind of the ascetic who lets go of the world, but the painful leaving behind by the believer who has a still greater love for Jesus and the kingdom than for his beloved ones and his properties. — Jakob van Bruggen, Marcus (on Mark 10:29-31).
Humility & Pride (Mark 10:41)
From Mark 10:41 it appears that the “ten” were aware of what Zebedee’s sons had asked and that they were indignant about it. Thereby they betray themselves. Humility is grieved over the sins of others; pride is indignant about them. — Jakob van Bruggen, Marcus (my translation).
The Challenge of Psalm 68
Just when you think you know Hebrew … there’s Psalm 68.
Matthew Henry on Psalm 68:
This is a most excellent psalm, but in many places the genuine sense is not easy to come at; for in this, as in some other scriptures, there are things dark and hard to be understood.
Charles Spurgeon on Psalm 68:
The Psalm is at once surpassingly excellent and difficult. Its darkness in some stanzas is utterly impenetrable.
Clarke’s Commentary on Psalm 68:
I know not how to undertake a comment on this Psalm: it is the most difficult in the whole Psalter; and I cannot help adopting the opinion of Simon De Muis: “In this Psalm there are as many precipices and labyrinths as there are verses or words. It may not be improperly termed, the torture of critics, and the reproach of commentators.” To attempt any thing new on it would be dangerous; and to say what has been so often said would be unsatisfactory. I am truly afraid to fall over one of those precipices, or be endlessly entangled and lost in one of these labyrinths. There are customs here referred to which I do not fully understand; there are words whose meaning I cannot, to my own satisfaction, ascertain; and allusions which are to me inexplicable. Yet of the composition itself I have the highest opinion: it is sublime beyond all comparison; it is constructed with an art truly admirable; it possesses all the dignity of the sacred language; none but David could have composed it; and, at this lapse of time, it would require no small influence of the Spirit that was upon him, to give its true interpretation.
And everyone who has attempted to translate this psalm says: “You’re not kidding, guys.”
The Catholicity of Jesus
Was there ever anyone with more integrity, and who made greater demands, than Jesus Christ? Yet look at the catholicity of His practice: He ate with publicans, harlots, and sinners, and He took nursing infants into His arms and thus to Himself. Who complained about all this? The Pharisees.
How could Jesus, the spotless Son of God, associate with such evil people? Simple: They were (a) members of the visible church, even though that church was borderline apostate (run by Sadducees and Pharisees). They were (b) not excommunicate from that visible church. They were (c) willing to listen to what He had to say.
Now, of course, after they listened for a while, most of them departed, not willing to persevere. They excommunicated themselves. But initially, they were welcomed according to the catholic principle we have outlined.
Notice that Jesus ate and drank with them. It requires a clever bit of nominalism to miss the sacramental implications of this. Pharisees, beware! — James B. Jordan, The Sociology of the Church, 15.
A Superfluity of Theologians
“Theology is mostly conversation, as the church matures in her understanding of the infallible and inerrant Scriptures. If two theologians agree at every point, one of them is unnecessary!” — James B. Jordan (but I’ve lost the source).
Divorce in the Pentateuch and ANE
David Instone-Brewer’s comparison of the biblical laws relating to divorce and other laws in the Ancient Near East (ANE) reveals that “women have greater rights in the Pentateuch than in the ancient Near East generally” (Divorce and Remarriage in the Bible, 21).
What rights? Instone-Brewer points to these two in particular:
(1) While other ANE lawcodes did allow women to divorce their husbands in some cases, few allowed a woman whose husband has failed to provide food and clothing to divorce her husband. A Middle Assyrian law does, but only after the wife has been abandoned for five years.
“The Pentateuch was more generous to the woman because it did not prescribe time constraints while it allowed women to divorce their husbands on the same grounds of neglect” (26).
(2) Only in the Pentateuch do we hear about a certificate of divorce being given to the divorced woman. The certificate would likely have said something like “You are allowed to marry any man you wish.”
“It would have been a most valuable document for a woman to possess,” says Instone-Brewer, “because it gave her the right to remarry. Without it she would be under the constant threat of her former husband, who could claim at a later date that she was still married to him and thus charge her with adultery” (29).
After all, “in other ancient Near Eastern cultures, the man could neglect his wife and then reclaim her within five years, even if she had remarried in the meantime” (30; cf. Middle Assyrian law # 36).
It strikes me that the differences Instone-Brewer points out between the laws in Exodus and Deuteronomy and the laws in the rest of the Ancient Near East concerning divorce indicate that the Pentateuch is not making a concession to the culture (e.g., “The ANE generally allowed divorce, and so the Law goes along with that, but it wasn’t ideal and God wanted to tighten it up later”).
No, as a matter of fact the Law goes beyond what ANE culture normally allowed, allowing speedier divorce in the case of neglect and making it clear that a first marriage really was over and the divorced wife was free to remarry.
Put another way, it’s one thing to say “The ANE was ‘loose’ on divorce and so, by way of concession to the culture, the Bible is correspondingly ‘loose’ … for a while.” I don’t buy it, but it makes a certain sort of sense.
But it makes no sense to me at all to say “The ANE was ‘loose’ on divorce and so, by way of concession to the culture, the Bible is even ‘looser.'”
Transfiguration and the Lord’s Day Service
The story of the Mount of Transfiguration tracks, to some degree, with what happens in the Lord’s Day service.
Jesus ascends a high mountain, which in the Bible is often associated with drawing near to meet with God (Mount Eden, Mount Sinai, Mount Zion, Mount Moriah). In every offering, the animal dies and then ascends the mountain and goes up to God in smoke. Hebrews 13 tells us that we have come to the heavenly Mount Zion.
That’s what’s happening in worship. We gather with the church all over the world on the heavenly Mount Zion. We ascend together into heaven. And on the mountain, we read the Law and the Prophets, the whole of the Scriptures, and they all point us to Jesus.
Here, we see Jesus in all His glory. Here, we hear the heavenly voice declaring: “This is my beloved Son. Hear Him!” Here, our ears are trained and opened to listen to Jesus. And here we are transfigured, from glory to glory, as we eat the bread which is Jesus’ body *together with one another* and become more and more one body with Him.
But we can’t stay. Moses has to go down the mountain to Israel, his face shining with God’s glory. Jesus and the disciples have to go down the mountain to a demon-possessed boy who needs help. We have to go down the mountain, out to the world, like the rivers from Eden, like the waters flowing from the temple, like the disciples after the transfiguration, flowing out to transform the world, not with programs and theories but with the gospel, with the proclamation of Jesus alone whom we have learned to hear.
“Hear Him”
Peter has the spiritual insight, apparently, to recognize Moses and Elijah when they appear at Jesus’ transfiguration. And yet he blurts out the wrong thing. And when the Glory Cloud surrounds them and the Voice of God is heard, it says to Peter and to all: “Hear Him.” That is, hear Jesus.
And you, religious enthusiasts, are you listening? Mystical souls, impetuous natures, naive children, are you? You, worshippers of spontaneity, gropers-about in your own nebulosity, do you hear the voice from the clouds? Hear Him! That extra-sensuous insight, the immediacy of knowledge by which Peter at once recognized heaven-sent guests — perhaps you have often wanted that. But you must hasten to the Word. The Word is more than Peter’s intuition. You are jealous of his impromptu utterance, are you? You thought that mood of transporting fear and astonishment the best possible for receptivity to heaven’s verities? Hear the voice from the cloud. You must go back to the Word (Klaas Schilder, Christ in His Suffering).