The time when kings go forth to battle (1Sam 11)

Chapter 11 is the sort of chapter in the Bible that really makes this sort of thing fun. Whether or not everyone who reads this ends up agreeing with me, I do feel that I have very appropriate responses to every issue brought up by the SAB in this chapter.

The Ammonites, led by Nahash, come up to Jabeshgilead and prepare to do battle against the inhabitants there. The men there send him a message that they don't want to fight, but would rather make peace. Nahash says, "I'll let you live if you show your loyalty to me by gouging out all your right eyes!" Not surprisingly, they hesitate to agree to this, and send for help.

The word reaches Saul that his fellow Israelites are in trouble, and "the Spirit of God came upon Saul". I make no excuse for this, because I think this is one of the times that Saul is acting in the proper manner for a king of Israel, seizing the opportunity to rally together all the people of Israel and unite them in a common cause. His actions indicate to all the people the seriousness of the cause and their king, and the entire nation rallies at Bezek.

Saul sends messengers to Jabeshgilead, telling them that help is on the way by the following afternoon. True to his promise, the next day the army arrives and fights until the Ammonite army is completely destroyed. (That is, not everyone killed, but "so that two of them were not left together.")

Now I realize that this is in the midst of a bloody battle, but I have to give props to Saul for one more thing here that I personally think the SAB should put a "Good things" label on. After the victory, everyone is so excited about the new unity and military/political power of Israel, that they suggest that the people in the last chapter who rejected Saul be rounded up and killed. Saul immediately squashes this idea, which you can guess from the way things have gone in Israel up until this point, would probably have been a successful endeavor, with virtually nobody to be the voice of reason if Saul had not protested. Instead, they go to Gilgal to make sacrifices to God and recommit themselves to the kingdom of Israel.

Maybe you disagree, but I call it a happy ending.

They were burned with fire (Judges 15)

So with each new chapter in Samson's life, he looks worse and worse. Aside from Samson's one supposedly redeeming feature of hating the Philistines, we see what might be considered a redeeming feature by some, but in his case is perhaps a bit of foreshadowing to his downfall: Even after his wife has betrayed him, he forgives her and goes back to her (whether it be a sexual betrayal or not, the thing that we see about Samson here is that he can't seem to fathom the idea of a woman being bad or dangerous, which is a different sort of sexism than we usually see in the Bible, but sexism nonetheless). It turns out that Samson's father-in-law has assumed that Samson wanted a divorce, and married her off to someone else. The following offer of the younger sister is, I think, an act of self-preservation on the part of Samson's father-in-law, whatever else you might think of it. Samson is known for having a nasty, violent temper, and he's certainly not above killing.

Samson's response to this is that he's decided to get revenge on the Philistines as a whole for this grave injustice done against him. (I actually find myself wondering if he's really so angry, or if he's just looking for an excuse to commit violence against the Philistines. You can almost imagine a typical day for Samson: gets up...eats breakfast...toast doesn't have enough butter, so he bludgeons 20 Philistines to death with a stale loaf of bread...checks out the newspaper, etc.) He somehow catches 300 foxes for a Rube Goldberg-esque plan of revenge that destroys the Philistines' crops. (The SAB marks this passage with the Absurd icon, and I tend to agree, whether it be the strangeness of Samson's plan or the thought of a single man catching 300 foxes, this is pretty weird.) Destroying the crops leads to an escalation: The Philistines burn up Samson's wife and father-in-law, and Samson takes this as an excuse for more violence, and some unknown number of Philistines are killed.

The Philistines get smart, and realize that they have to deal with the root of their problem, and move in to capture Samson himself. The men of Judah are willing to give up Samson to save themselves, so they go to him and ask him to surrender. (You know, despite the fact that Samson is supposed to be some sort of leader in Israel, there's not much to suggest that even his own people liked him.) Samson agrees to go peacefully if his own countrymen promise not to harm him, and they agree. So Samson is handed over to the Philistines tied up with two ropes.

Of course, this is one of the more well-known parts of the story of Samson: it was all just a ruse. Samson knows that he's too strong to be bound by mere ropes, so once he's tied up and unarmed in the midst of his enemies and they think they have the upper hand, he breaks his ropes, picks up a donkey's jawbone (once again, a no-no for a Nazarite), and kills 1,000 men with it. (1,000 is such a round number that it may be an exaggeration, but surely, he killed several hundred.) Then he makes a pun about the whole thing, saying, "I made a chamorah (heap) of bodies with the jaw of a chamor (donkey)!" That's not just messed up morals, but a sick sense of humor.

Then, to end this little story, Samson whines to God that darnit, mass murder is thirsty work! So God gives him some water out of the hill where he found the bone (not out of the bone itself, despite the confusing language of the translation). He calls the place "Enhakkore", or "the spring of the one who calls". Why is God helping Samson? I hope as I finish his story, I can explain on some level, but it's not bound to be pretty.

It is not good to eat much honey: so for men to search their own glory is not glory. (Judges 14)

So with Judges 14, Samson's personal story begins. If Samson seems like an unlikely Biblical hero, that's because he is. He's a jerk, a drunk, a womanizer, and he's prone to fits of violent outburst that have a lot more to do with a sense that he's been personally wronged rather than a desire to see the will of God carried out, as with most of the other characters we've seen in this book. I'm not going to defend Samson much, as he's admittedly not a very nice person.

The story of Samson is an early example of what has been come to be called in our age the "anti-hero". The first time I'd heard the term used, I thought it was a modern concept, but I soon realized that history and literature is littered with such people. There is no doubt that Samson is the hero of the story that unfolds here and in the next few chapters, but unlike the sort of heroes we ideally expect from the Bible (squeaky clean paragons of virtue such as Joseph or Daniel) or even the sorts of heroes that we more realistically expect from the Bible (mostly good folks who have personal flaws, but a strong faith in God such as Noah and Jacob), this guy has pretty much no redeeming features other than the fact that he really hates the Philistines, who happen to be Israel's oppressors. Is that one thing enough to redeem him? In the end, it's really a matter of opinion.

Now despite the fact that Samson is so often portrayed as a strong, forceful man, you might note that when he gets the hots for a Philistine woman, instead of going after her himself, he whines to his parents about her. The violence, lust and drunkenness are obvious character flaws of Samson, but a more subtle one that we really see a lot of is that despite his strength, he's sort of an emotional wimp. He can't just go and talk to the woman himself? You get the impression (or at least I do) that while Samson's parents seemed like good folks at first, they don't seem to be very good parents; I think Samson is a spoiled brat, even as a grown man.

Samson is very strong, though, and in the middle of this story, he manages to kill a lion with his bare hands. At a later date, passing by the carcass of the lion, he finds that some bees have made a hive inside its dead body, and he eats some of the honey. Aside from being sort of gross, this is the first instance we see of Samson doing something expressly forbidden of a Nazarite: touching a dead animal. (The SAB marks the passage with the Science icon, although I'm not sure why. Maybe Wells knows something about bees that I don't.) Actually, eating something that had come from the body of a dead animal would be unkosher to anyone, and yet he feeds some of the honey to his parents, not telling them where he got it.

Later, at a feast, he takes the story and makes a riddle out of it. It seems to me that this riddle is akin to Bilbo Baggins' famous riddle, "What have I got in my pocket?" It was really not an acceptable riddle, it was essentially unsolvable, and in the end, the person challenged with the riddle solved it, but the poser of the riddle didn't abide by the rules of the original challenge. Really, would anyone have been able to solve this riddle without cheating? I don't know if the phrase "plowed with my heifer" really is meant to imply that Samson thought his wife was having sex with the men, but he certainly knows that she's the only one who knew the solution.

Samson, being a sore loser, goes off and kills thirty men and takes his payment off of them. The SAB is pretty much right here in that whenever "the Spirit of the LORD came upon him", he seems to do something nasty and violent. What's up with that? Honestly, I don't know.

God formed man (Gen 2:4-14)

A lot of the objections that are raised in the SAB in chapter two are repeats of the ones raised in chapter one, this is because they're largely concerning the supposed discrepancies between the two accounts of the creation of mankind. My progress has been slow enough already; I trust that nobody bothering to read this will mind if I don't bother with a second response, but rather move on to new material.

So, from 2:5 until the end of the chapter, the story is about the creation of mankind. I don't know which part 2:4 goes with; it could be the epilogue of the previous account, or the introduction of this account. I think it doesn't really matter. One thing that should be noted however is that 2:4 says, "in the day". This phrase is one of a handful that's poetic/figurative/whatever that I hope people won't misconstrue, and I'm glad to see that the SAB doesn't make that mistake here, at least. (Oops, it did, it's just in chapter one for some reason!) Often, "day" refers not to a specific 24 hour period, but a general timeframe, like when someone says, "You'll rue the day you crossed me!" They're not saying that there's a specific date on the calendar that you'll mark down and say, "Wow, that was a bad one!" but rather you'll remember the time that you did whatever you did, whether it be a single moment, or even a series of events that stretched across several years. Other words that have a common figurative meaning are "name" which often means character or reputation, and "world" which can mean humanity as a whole, the social system you are a part of, or even perhaps an era of time. Context will often tell you, but I won't pretend it isn't confusing at times.

In verse five, it says there is no "plant of the field" because there is rain and (essentially) agriculture missing from the picture. Aside from the thoughts I gave on this before, it might be noteworthy to think about the implications of there needing to be "a man to till the ground" and that this is referring to plants "of the field". Perhaps what this is saying is that there are specifically no plants like wheat and barley and other grains growing in a useful fashion. I don't know, but it seems like a possibility.

Note also in verse six that it still doesn't "rain", but instead a "mist from the earth" waters the ground. That's interesting. If you remember my goofiness about water canopy theory, I think it's interesting to ponder that perhaps it never had rained before Noah's day. That's pure speculation on my part, I admit however. That might make no sense in other ways I'm not even thinking of.

God makes the first man out of the dust. I've heard it pointed out by some theologians that everything that makes up a human body can be found in dirt. Interesting, but not really conclusive from a creation/evolution standpoint, since one would expect a creature evolving naturally by chance from its environment to take on characteristics that were consistent with its environment, if you follow me. In other words, if the earth were completely free from silicon, you'd hardly expect creatures made largely from silicon to have evolved, would you? That's another tangent, though.

After creating man, God breathes into him, making him a "living soul". I think there's meant to be a special implication here, that more than breathing air, we're somehow figuratively breathing the spirit of God. It's interesting that in Hebrew, Greek and English, the words for these concepts are closely related. ("spirit" vs. "respiration")

Then God plants a garden with everything the man needs to physically survive, including two special trees: "the tree of life" and "the tree of knowledge of good and evil." We don't hear much about either of these trees, although the "tree of life" pops up again in the Book of Revelation, chapter 22, where it grows on both sides of a river in New Jerusalem. This is interesting to me, because it shows once again the problem with taking things too literal. I once read a Christian commentary on the book of Revelation that mused, "What sort of strange tree will this be? Will it have a trunk that splits in two so it's on both sides of the river at once?" It seems obvious to me that in that passage, the "tree of life" is not a singular tree, but a kind of tree, and there will be several of that kind of tree along both banks. Does that mean that the "tree of life" in this chapter is not a specific tree, but a species, which may have had several instances in the garden? I don't know, but it's entirely a possibility.

Of course the tree we're really interested in so often is the other special tree (trees?), the one that causes all the trouble in the next chapter. Why would God put such a dangerous tree right next to his special beloved children and let them eat from it if it was so dangerous? It's a very good question, perhaps one of the best. I'm going to give it an entire post tomorrow.

The only thing left to comment on here is all the geographical information in verses 10-14. Strangely, this is a mix of places and names that are known today and not known today. What are we supposed to make of them? I think most likely, these geographical names are of very little consequence to us today. I suspect strongly that whatever they referred to no longer exists. The fact that some of the names are still used today is simply either a holdover from those times (Noah and his family named some places after the places that used to be there before the flood), or modern people labeling places with names they got out of the Bible. Either way, it doesn't matter much.