Faith in his name hath made this man strong (Acts 4)

Acts chapter four has only one contradiction (who raised Jesus, which I answered in John chapter two), but there are a lot of other notes that I don't want to pass up.

Verse twelve has a lot of notes on it, because it's the controversial moment in which Peter says that only in the name of Jesus can one be saved. As always, the SAB marks such a statement as intolerant and unjust, and it's understandable! There is something fascinating to me about exclusivity claims by religions, because people find them intolerant, but most religions (including, as not a religion, but a religious classification, atheism) claim to be the one true religion. Yeah, there are exceptions, but think they are likely representative of less of the world population. Putting that aside and focusing on Christianity's exclusivity for the moment, I think there is something that can be said about it to soften the harshness. As I've discussed several times in both John and even earlier in Acts, it's largely understood that when Jesus died, he went to Hell and "set the captives free". It's pretty darn likely that the majority of people in Hell waiting for salvation had never heard the name Jesus of Nazareth, but they were saved anyway. I figure if people before the crucifixion could be saved without knowing Jesus, why would that change afterwards? So no, the name Jesus isn't "the password to heaven" as the SAB puts it; we are all saved by Jesus, but it isn't about any specific words or name that we know or say. I truly believe that Heaven will be full of plenty of non-Christians. (Should I say something about the side comment to Jehovah's Witnesses? I don't think I know JW theology well enough to comment on this. They don't believe that Jesus is God, I know, but does that bring up an issue with this particular verse? I don't know.)

So verse 13 brings up the issue of Peter and John being uneducated. The SAB says that if this is true, they couldn't have written the Bible books attributed to them. I don't think this follows, though, for a few reasons. First of all, it's not clear what is meant by "unlearned and ignorant". It doesn't necessarily mean that they were illiterate idiots; as obserant Jews they probably knew how to read and write Hebrew and Aramaic, and had some amount of teaching in the Hebrew Bible, but didn't have the sort of formal teaching a Rabbi would have had. More importantly, the fact that they were "unlearned" at this time is probably irrelevant because from this time forward, they stopped being fishermen and started being pastors, which probably involved a lot of time reading and writing, thus furthering and refining their knowledge. The time between Pentecost and the writing of John's books is actually many decades; I'm sure he had a long time to get as good as he did.

So, Peter and John get threatened by the religious leaders, but since they haven't technically broken any laws, they get to leave the Temple without any punishment. They say a prayer of thanksgiving (which the SAB finds boring) and for some reason, after they pray, there's an earthquake. The SAB marks this with "science" but this was either a miracle or maybe even just a coincidence; there's nothing antiscientific about earthquakes happening. The last bit of the chapter again talks about the church and how they were essentially communists. This is marked with "politics", which is one I haven't seen before; I don't know if it was added or if I just haven't come across it before. I suppose the point of the marking is that you don't tend to hear a lot about Christian communists in the 21st century, although they do exist; I know a few. It's actually very interesting that modern conservative evangelical Christians have sort of made a marriage between Christianity and capitalism, when the Bible says a whole lot about the love of money being evil, and that a country is judged by how they treat the poor, and other such things that are really the antithesis of capitalism, in my opinion. I think it's a subject worth examining.

The maid is not dead, but sleepeth (Luke 8)

The SAB opens up Luke 8 with a verse marked as absurd. I'm sure I've commented on it before, but I'm never quite sure what to do with charges of absurdity, mostly because it's largely a matter of personal opinion. The SAB finds a lot of stuff in the Bible absurd, but usually it makes sense from a spiritual perspective, I hope.

Did Jesus have any secret teachings? The issue here is that the passage in John says that Jesus did not have secret teachings, but it seems as though the other passages imply that he did. I think what Jesus is saying in the John passage is that although clearly not every single word Jesus ever said was in public, he'd always been open about his purpose and had nothing to hide.

Verse 18 is rather cryptic (at least I'm certainly not sure what it means) and the SAB puts a snide remark about Republicans on it. I'm pretty sure it's just meant as a joke, but I might as well comment while I'm here that I always cringe a bit when I hear people put political labels on Jesus. Not only was he obviously not a Republican or Democrat, but I don't think it makes sense to label him as either liberal or conservative. Jesus simply was what he was, and it wasn't about politics, it was about devotion to God and love for our fellow human beings.

In verses 20-21, Jesus makes the statement that "My mother and my brethren are these which hear the word of God, and do it." which the SAB takes as an insult to his actual mother and brothers. I suppose you could see it that way, but then at the same time, I do think Jesus' family were devout themselves, and so Jesus is arguably not denying them, but including them in something bigger.

Verse 24 has the first of several miracles performed by Jesus in this chapter, all of which are marked as absurd (see above) and unscientific. As I said before, it's the very nature of miracles that they are unscientific, so I don't think this is a real problem.

Verses 27-37 tell the story of Jesus helping a man possessed by a demon, or possibly multiple demons, it's never quite clear. (The version of the story in Matthew has two men possessed, which seems to be a pretty clear contradiction, so I don't know what to make of it.) The SAB like many others I've heard before complains about cruelty to the herd of pigs, which is of course what leads to Jesus being asked to leave by the locals.

Was Jairus' daughter alive when Jesus approached? Yes, the Gospels give differing accounts of when the girl may have died, but in all the versions, Jesus says the girl is only sleeping, and I'll take him at his word.

The Agagite, the Jews' enemy (1Sam 15)

Now whereas I usually feel there is an easy response to challenges of violence and intolerance (most of what has been seen in this book so far has been violence in self-defense), chapter 15 presents us with the first example of God-ordered genocide with no immediately obvious purpose. Sure, back in Joshua it was a matter of establishing the nation in the land of Canaan, both for the benefit of Israel and the punishing of evil pagan nations. Here, however, God orders Saul to take his now-sizable and experienced army and attack a foreign country for what seems to be a petty reason. Not that what Amalek did to the Israelites wasn't serious, but as the SAB points out, we're talking about an event centuries previous. In some respects, it seems something akin to me taking it upon myself as a grown man in my mid-thirties to working out and getting strong so I can go pummel a bully who took my lunch money in first grade.

Furthermore, there is no ambiguity here; God really is looking for genocide, not merely punishment, ordering the complete destruction of men, women, children, babies and even livestock. Why does God want this? There's a very subtle clue that we won't find in this chapter, but it brings up possibly another issue that the SAB does not address. After all this setup, I intend to answer this at the end of the entry.

Saul goes off to battle, but he doesn't end up completely destroying everything, saving some of the best livestock, and king Agag as a prisoner. God's not happy, and He says, "It repenteth me that I have set up Saul to be king," leading the SAB to ask the important question, "Does God repent?" I think I addressed this before (yep, here it is), but just in case I didn't, the answer is, "Well, it depends on what you mean by 'repent'." It's understood that the nature of God is such that He, being all-knowing, never comes to be surprised by the outcome of His decisions. Since He knew all that Saul would do as king from the beginning of time, it wouldn't be theologically proper to interpret this verse as God saying, "What was I thinking when I let this joker be king?!" When God "repents", what it means is that He has let the course of history go on long enough, and He is going to now step into the picture and move things in a new direction. The people wanted a king, and God gave them Saul. Now Saul is no longer of any use to God in his position as king, and God will now take steps to remove and replace him. (Note also that in the very same chapter, we are told that God does not repent (v. 29), so clearly the writer means something unusual here, or you have to assume almost immediate self-contradiction, which seems unlikely.)

Samuel comes to Saul and asks him why he didn't obey the command of God. Saul blames the people, saying that they wanted to take some of the best sheep and bring them back as a sacrifice. This is of course, a very lame excuse for a couple reasons, only one of which is stated in the text at this point. The unstated reason is that Saul is the king, which makes him supposedly the man in charge. If things go wrong, he has to take responsibility, not say, "Well, these people didn't want to do it." Secondly, as Samuel points out, isn't it better to just do what you're told than to disobey and excuse your actions by saying, "I was going to do this other thing that I thought would be cool!"

Samuel informs Saul that since he rejected God's command, God's rejects Saul's kingship. Finally, Saul admits he screwed up, and admits both aspects of his mistake, asking Samuel to pray for his restoration, which Samuel refuses to do. However, in some manner that's hard to fully decipher in the King James English, he does something to allow Saul to save face to some degree.

Now, Samuel turns to the matter of the remaining Amalekite, King Agag. He calls for him to be brought, and Agag is nervous, pleading that surely he himself need not die. Samuel kills him, making the genocide of the Amalekites almost complete.

What's missing, and what was the point of all this bloodshed? Some have made the point that Saul's failure led to a dark day in Israel's history, centuries later. In the book of Esther, a man by the name of Haman rises to power in the Persian Empire, and uses his authority to attempt to exterminate the Jews. Who is Haman? He is identified as an "Agagite", that is, he is a descendant of King Agag, the last surviving Amalekite. The issue that this brings up for some skeptics is, if Agag was the last survivor, how is it that he seems to have had children? Two possibilities exist. Either Saul, in sparing Agag, also spared his children, or the possibility also exists that Agag had children in the time span between the destruction of Amalek and his death at the hand of Samuel. This second possibility points out how sometimes a careful reading of Scripture can make you aware of the passing of time that is not obvious on a quick surface read. In verse 12, Samuel hears, "Saul came to Carmel, and, behold, he set him up a place". Other translations make this clearer; what has happened is Saul has stopped on his return home to have a monument built in his own honor. This must have taken some time, perhaps even months, and the war itself wasn't instantaneous. In this time, it seems likely that Agag's children somehow escaped, and grew over time into a small nation that had, perhaps understandably, some unresolved issues with Israel. God understands the relationships between nations, and does what He must to preserve Israel against violent opposition.

And he said, Bring me up Samuel. (1&2Samuel, introduction)

The books of 1st and 2nd Samuel, in the original Hebrew Bible, were a single book. Actually, context seems to imply that that 1Samuel right through 2Kings was more or less a solid piece of historical narrative. What we're looking at here is the history of the Jewish monarchy, with 1Samuel being events leading up to the coronation of David, and 2Samuel being the story of David as King. I've often wondered why it's not called the book of David, since he figures prominently throughout both books of Samuel, while Samuel is not even named in 2Samuel.

As usual, the SAB has some things to say in the overview of the book that I agree with heartily, although of course it will come out that I disagree with the interpretation when I address specifics. Hemorrhoids and foreskins? It's a wacky book alright, and even the person who believes in God but doesn't know the Bible really well is going to find more than a few surprises in here, many not pleasant.

Why is it that it seems God appoints kings not to keep the peace so much as wage war? As noted, Saul eventually is deposed as king essentially for his refusal to commit genocide. And against the Amalekites, which is an issue I've already had to address, but will probably need to delve into in more detail. On the other hand, God is quite pleased with David, who, as the SAB puts it rather well, "is always happy to kill for God." Really, a lot of this meshes in with the issues of the purpose of the conquest of Canaan, which was left unfinished in Joshua's day, but pretty much completed by David. It also has to do with larger issues of the nature of God and the Judeo-Christian worldview which I have opined on in general in a previous post. What God's looking for in a king is not what we look for in a king, as the Bible itself says. And I don't think we should be looking for the same thing in a king that God looks for, because we're not Israel, and not a monarchy, but that's my two cents.

This is a strange book in various ways for the fact that it introduces politics into the Bible as never before, and also in that it's one of the first books to really be clearly and openly a book edited from multiple sources. It makes for a different feel, that's for sure, but at least we're largely back to a straightforward linear story, at least for a while.

Yet wherefore hast thou stolen my gods? (Judges 18)

"In those days there was no king in Israel." Ah, the oft-repeated phrase in the book of Judges, usually followed by "every man did that which was right in his own eyes." Cleary, the main lesson taught in the book of Judges is that of a need for (and unfortunate lack at the time) an authority figure to hold the people together. It's funny, but even though the Bible mandates a certain separation between church and state in the fact that the King is not to be a priest as well, there is definitely a sentiment that the king should be a moral example for the people, and should lead them in showing the way to be a good and moral person, and a follower of God. I think that's something we'd like to see in our own leaders here in 21st-century America, but rarely do.

(Of course, when you really think it through, there were very few kings during the time of the monarchy in Israel that were anything like exemplary moral figures. David's one of the better examples for us, and, well, you know. He's got his fair share of faults and then some. No doubt the writer(s) of the book of Judges are in part telling these stories as propaganda to suggest how great the monarchy is.) But to the story...

Here we take up right where we left off in two ways: this story meshes right in with the story of our idolater, Micah, and who do we introduce into the plot? Danites from Zorah and Eshtaol, some names that may be familiar. These are the fellow tribesmen of Samson, from the very same area that he lived in. Apparently, despite the fact that Samson had some good victories (or maybe because he hasn't yet at all; as I said, chronology is far from precise here) the Danites still can't live in peace within their inherited area of Canaan, since the Philistines are all over the place making trouble for them. So they go out looking for a good place that they can take over and kill the inhabitants of, of course.

On the way there (more or less), they come across Micah's house, where this Levite is working, (for more irony, note that the Levite tells them to "Go in peace") and they eventually decide to steal all of Micah's religious paraphernalia, along with his priest. Apparently, as I said before, the SAB seems to have no problem with either the idolatry or the thievery, leaving it without comment. Frankly, I myself am not sure what to think about it, as the whole thing to me is pretty ridiculous. "Ye have taken away my gods which I made!" Micah protests. This is wrong and ironic on so many levels that it's hard to deal with. I mean really, how helpful are those gods if they couldn't protect Micah from being robbed? The Danites come back with a sort of, "Are you sure you want to fight about this? Clearly we've got gods on our side here." Not really, but whatever; at the very least it's got to be absurd. Micah, you're outnumbered; go home and make yourself some new gods or something.

So the Danites go and destroy the city of Laish, killing everyone there. The SAB finally decides to chime in after two chapters of silence with a judgment of this being "violent" and "intolerant". Violent? I would agree, but once again wonder why the gouging out of Samson's eyes was not labeled as such (or "intolerant", which seems fairly reasonable). Something I don't understand at all is the "intolerance" label, however. I just don't see what definition of the word could possibly apply here. The Danites don't attack the people of Laish because they're non-Israelites. They certainly don't attack them because they're pagans. They attack them because they're greedy for land and the people of Laish appear to be an easy target; it's as simple as that. I guess we're to believe that the Danites are intolerant to people who tend to get killed by Danites? C'mon SAB, you're better than this...

Jephthah gathered together all the men of Gilead (Judges 11)

Judges 11 gives us the very odd tale of Jephthah the Gileadite, a man whose life carries a few oddities that those like the SAB who like to find problems with the Bible are hardly going to overlook. Perhaps oddly, the SAB does not draw attention to the very first item of interest about Jephthah, the fact that apparently, he's a bastard. The fact that he is mentioned first and the following fact that apparently his half-brothers are afraid he will inherit from Gilead suggests that Jephthah is the eldest son, and may have some claim in being the rightful heir of Gilead. However, there is certainly a history (especially among the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob) of firstborns not inheriting. Anyway, his family gets into some hot water with the Ammonites, and they come to him for help for some reason. He agrees to help in return for being made their leader.

The first thing he does as leader is send a message to the Ammonites looking for peace. I'm always looking for a hopeful suggestion where I can find it of a place where the SAB might add a "Good Stuff" icon; might there be one here? Certainly this is a much nicer approach than most guys in this book take. They argue back and forth a bit about whose land it is. Apparently, according to Jephthah, the land was won in battle from the Amorites (the SAB marks this fact as being bad for various reasons, but really, this is old news from back in Numbers 21, where Moses also tried to settle things peaceably, asking permission to pass through, and getting attacked in return, as we see briefly reviewed here in Judges. Sure, it's not all that nice that Sihon was destroyed by the Israelites, but this is largely a clear case of destroying a city in self-defense, oddly enough. Later in Jephthah's remarks, he points out that if indeed they think this particular part of the land belonged to them, it's odd they let the Israelites live there for 300 years without ever rectifying the situation. The SAB itself points out (although it calls it a contradiction) that the Israelites were ordered by God not to attack the Ammonites. Actually, they were ordered not to attack the land of the Ammonites, but this is the Ammonites attacking them.

Jephthah makes a remark that is much more thought-provoking to the SAB than it is to me, giving an apprent nod to the Ammonite god Chemosh. Does this statement imply that Chemosh exists, or that at least Jephthah thinks he does? I don't think so. I think this is an ironic statement on the part of Jephthah, although it certainly may have been stated in a manner that was meant to sound more polite, as in you serve your god in your land, we'll serve our god in ours, okay? As for the issue of the Bible containing statements that other gods might exist, I have formerly addressed that here. (Steve, if you don't mind, can you add a link on that page? I keep meaning to help you clean up the links between us, but I'm a terrible procrastinator.)

And now with all the pleasantries finished up, the battle begins, and the big issue of this story comes up. The "spirit of the Lord" comes upon Jephthah, (I was reading recently that this expression is often used in contexts such as this meaning not that the person becomes closer to God or anything like that, but that God gives them the power and wisdom to be a great military leader) and he goes to war. Early into the battle, he makes a rash and foolish gesture: he vows to kill the first thing that comes out his front door as a sacrifice to God when he returns victorious. When he wins, and he does return, the first thing out the door is his young daughter. Ouch.

The first thing to note is that nowhere does it say that God asked for this, so it is not proper to say that God approves. This was stupidity on the part of Jephthah to make the vow, and also to carry it out. There is more to say, though, in an odd musing that I myself have had with this passage. What was Jephthah really expecting? Does he often come home from work and find himself greeted at the door by...I don't know...a pair of turtledoves? What kind of stupid vow was that? I find myself wondering if he was expecting not so much a more proper sacrifice, but if he expected someone else to be at the door. I've never heard anyone else suggest this as a possibility, but the implications seem pretty staggering. Perhaps Jephthah was having domestic problems and hoped for an easy divorce?

Anyway, he comes home, and out comes his daughter, dancing with joy. He's not happy, of course, but feels he has to keep his vow. He gives her time to mourn her situation, and then sacrifices her. (Some have suggested that verse 39 is implying that rather than dying, she remained a virgin all of her life. This is definitely a possibility, but the verse is far from clear on the matter.)

Draw thy sword, and thrust me through therewith (Judges 9)

Yikes! If you think politics are ugly today, you obviously have no idea what it was like in previous centuries. Here in Judges 9, we get a taste of dirty politics from a few millennia ago. (Once again, let me lead off with the caveat that we can't assume that God approves of any of this, with one exception that must be addressed. We'll get there.)

Having made a number of very bad decisions in his personal life, Gideon, who already had numerous wives, also gets a concubine in the city of Shechem. This woman bears him a son, which Gideon names "Abimelech", a name which means "my father is the king". This is an odd choice of names for a man who claimed that he didn't want to be king, and also for a man who was famous for fighting off pagans, when "Abimelech" is apparently a common name for local pagan kings.

So after Gideon passes on, Abimelech decides to make his move. He goes to the men of his own city and suggests that they should back him as the next leader of Israel, since he's a local boy. They agree, and he goes off to kill his 70 half-brothers, only one of which escapes. The men of Shechem crown him king. (Here's a fun bit of Bible trivia to throw at your favorite Bible-believer: ask them who the first King of Israel was. A lot of people will say, "David." Then you say, "Nope, guess again!" They think for a moment, then say, "Oh, yeah! It was Saul, right?" Then you can smugly say, "Nope, it was Abimelech, Judges chapter 9." Of course, then they might argue how technically Abimelech doesn't count, and they might be right, but you've had your fun.)

Now, the SAB laughs at the idea of talking trees, and while yes, it's absurd, it's pretty clear from the context that Jotham's story about the king of the trees is a parable; a fable-like story with a moral point. The point of the story is one that we can take to heart today, even: most people want a strong leader over their country, but the fact is that often the set of people who would make good leaders and the set of people who actually want to be leaders don't have members in common. (The side-note about alcohol is addressed here, basically that alcohol is good in moderation.)

After Jotham's speech, we come to the place where we are told God directly intervenes, and therefore must address it. God sends "an evil spirit" to deal with Shechem, and causes a lot of trouble for them, and for Abimelech in particular. This is an odd moment, no doubt, and actually one among many in which it seems very clear that God is doing something evil, which should be against God's character, right? It's my understanding that many Jews have a belief which is shocking to Christians, but I think holds some possible merit: that Satan and other "evil" beings are actually servants of God in a strange fashion. God Himself, due to His own holiness, simply can't do certain things Himself. Thus, He has servants such as Satan to carry out certain tasks, such as tempting evil men to their own destruction, as we see here. This explanation of course would seem distasteful to most Christians, and I expect the Christian point of view would be that this is more of a passive activity on God's part; not so much that He actively sent this spirit upon them, but that He simply allowed it in response to their sin. Either way, the message is clear: Abimelech and the men of Shechem have done evil, and they are going to reap a penalty for it.

The SAB has on odd note about "the men of the tower of Shechem", claiming apparently that 1,000 people are way too many to house in a tower. Well, I have two thoughts about that. One, as the SAB suggests jokingly, I suggest in seriousness that this may have been a really big tower, the text gives no size. (Also, names may be deceptive, as the "Tower of London" is not a single tower, but a palace/fortress comprised of a walled area with about 20 literal towers.) Two, the text mentions "the men of the tower of Shechem", not "the men who lived in the tower of Shechem". There probably was some sort of fortress where these 1,000 people lived that was famous for having a tower, not being a tower. I could be wrong because once again, history is not my best subject, but I believe a tower in those days was not just a defense for itself, but for any walled area nearby, and these people may have simply lived in a walled area adjoining the tower.

Abimelech dies in an odd way. A woman tosses a rock on top of him, and knowing he is about to die, he calls out to his armor-bearer to kill him so that people can't say that he was killed by a woman. Yeah, it's sexist and sort of weird, what can you say? Well, other than the fact that this strange dying wish was apparently a failure. (This bears some similarities to the death of Saul.)

The last note here is on the comment that killing his 70 brothers was less of a crime against them than it was a crime against their father. There are numerous cultural reasons for this sort of statement as I understand it. First of all, it's common in the Bible and in that culture to consider a family to be a collective entity representing the father. Second, and closely related to that, it's considered a very good thing to have many children, and now, Gideon's heritage is essentially gone. Thirdly, even with all the bad stuff that Gideon did in his life, if his story had just ended with chapter 8, his would have been one of the best, at least in this book. Now, it's pretty much especially shameful with this bloody footnote. Murder is an odd thing, I've always said, since the "victim" does not suffer once the act is complete. Those who suffer are the friends and family. Now that everyone in this story is dead and buried, Gideon's children are simply forgotten, but Gideon's heritage is a serious blemish on the face of Israel's history.

The sons of Jerubbaal, which are threescore and ten (Judges 8)

I guess it's fair to say that in Judges 8, we see a fair bit of Gideon's bad side. Clearly the man is a good military leader, but not a real "people person". Well, in general; he does manage to flatter some of the men of Ephraim enough to get them to lay off criticizing him.

Other than that, though, we're not really seeing the best of Gideon as he threatens to beat up the men of Succoth and tear down the tower of Penuel. After he finishes his military campaign, he does that and more. This is an unfortunate tendency particularly among Middle Eastern peoples, and really mankind in general: the tendency to view things in stark black and white, and declare that anyone who does not ally with you must therefore be your mortal enemy. This is an attitude not endorsed by the Bible, but often observed by it.

There's also a little vignette in which Gideon tries to get his son to do some killings, but his son isn't willing to do it. Honestly, I'm not sure what to think of this. On one hand, once again this is wartime, and the context shows that the men were killers themselves, and therefore may have fully deserved the death penalty. On the other hand, I do wonder how old this son was, as the Bible never says specifically, and what exactly was going through his and Gideon's mind. What sort of a man is Gideon, that he wants his sons to do his killing for him? Why does he have 70 sons, for crying out loud? Actually, the thing about 70 sons from "many wives" is that the time frame is not stated, but you might wonder if most of these wives and children came after the military conquest. Is Gideon taking advantage of his status as a celebrity? (My comments on polygamy here.)

Actually, there is an offer made to Gideon to become king of Israel, but he turns it down. Instead, he asks for a share of the plunder from the battle, and uses it to make a fancy shirt. This turns out to be a bad thing, because for some reason, people seem to start to worship the shirt like an idol. The one really good thing Gideon does is try to turn people back to God, but he somehow ends up doing the opposite in the end for many people.

That all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel (Exodus interlude)

So what is the reason that God gives for deciding to go through such a complicated and difficult process to save the Israelites? Part of it is given here in chapter six, and we see a bit more of it explained in chapter seven. There's a twofold point to all of this, and both parts of it are similar:

Exod. 6:7 "...ye [Israelites] shall know that I am the LORD your God..."
Exod. 7:4 "And the Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD..."

I suppose someone might call it "showing off", and in a sense, they'd not be far from the truth. God doesn't just want to rescue the Israelites, He wants to rescue them while taking the time to drive home a point to everyone involved. Sure, God could have just forced Pharaoh to change his mind about the Israelites, and they could have just walked away, but what would be the result? Aside from the fact that God is forcing someone to change their mind (something that I think is against His basic nature), there is no justice in it, and no lesson for anyone to learn. What lesson should they learn?

Here's a pretty good analogy, I think. Suppose it was God's will for me to get a Master's Degree in Mathematics (something I've been considering pursuing lately). I could check out a college that offered a good program, get accepted, pass the courses, and earn my degree, with all of those actions proceeding smoothly and easily from one moment to the next because God paved the way for me. After it was said and done, I probably wouldn't think to thank God for the series of everyday miracles that brought me there. On the other hand, if I was reluctant to go back to school, and God firmed my resolve not to, I would say with surety, "I'm not going back to school." Then God could strike me with some sort of awful disease, make me lose my job, and have my car stolen. I might ask, "God, have I made a wrong decision? If you want me to go to school, I don't understand, because I need $22,700 dollars to pay for my expenses, and I just don't have it!" The day after praying this, a check arrives in the mail from the IRS for exactly $22,700 saying that they discovered a mistake on some of my previous tax returns. (Not likely, as I've never made enough to pay that much in taxes, I'm pretty sure.) Then I would enroll in school and my disease would clear up, I'd get a new, better job, and my stolen car would be found. "Wow," I'd say, "clearly God is trying to tell me something."

God is trying to tell somebody something here. He's sending a clear message to Pharaoh, Moses, the Israelites, the Egyptians, and a number of neighboring nations that will all see these bizarre miracles. Message? You'd better take the God of Israel seriously.

Now, people ask (as the SAB does in Exodus) whether it's worth killing children to make this statement. It's a question worth asking, no doubt. In my view, the answer to that is, you have to look at the big picture. We, as living beings, are afraid of death. Why? Well, if you don't believe there is an afterlife (or if you believe the afterlife is something generally unpleasant), then there is a sense of loss in having a loved one die. If, however, you believe that there is such a place as Heaven, and specifically that all children who die go there (I may have mentioned this common Christian belief in an earlier post, I'm not sure...), then while killing hundreds, nay thousands of Egyptian children is cruel to the parents of those children, we have no reason to believe that the children themselves suffered in any way. So we are only left with the question of whether the parents deserved to be punished.

I remember reading a bit of an essay by Jean-Paul Sartre several years ago in which he addressed from an entirely atheistic point of view the idea of responsibility of citizens of a nation for the actions that nation takes as a whole. (I probably don't remember it so very well, and I've not read Sartre extensively, so forgive me if I get his ideas not quite right; in the end, I'm making my own point, but isn't a bit of namedropping fun?) Essentially, it doesn't really matter what sort of government you live under--although perhaps in a democracy, you participate more than would those living under a monarchy--if your government commits some atrocity, you are, in part at least, responsible. Don't like the war in Iraq? Too bad, U.S. citizens, your government is waging it in your name. Lived in Germany during the Third Reich? If you stood passively by as millions were gassed in concentration camps, their blood is on your hands as much as the Nazis. The fact is that Pharaoh systematically tried to kill off the Jews, and he wasn't overthrown by an outraged citizenry. The Egyptians were responsible for the deaths of those Israelite children, and the time was about to come upon them when they would receive the comeuppance for it.

Was it cruelty, or was it justice? It's all speculation, and in a sense, it's only God's place to judge. As for myself, though, I see the strong possibility that this was a righteous act on God's part, despite the personal distaste I may have for the result.

I will bring them again also out of the land of Egypt (Gen 50)

So, Jacob is dead, and his last request is to be buried back in the Promised Land. It's interesting that for so many of these forefathers, despite the fact that they had little or no ties to the land of Canaan personally, they wanted to be buried there, both to be with their forefathers and with their ancestors that they assumed God would bring back there sometime in the future. Joseph mourns for his father, but then he requests to Pharaoh that he and his family be allowed to take the body back to Canaan to be buried at Machpelah.

In much of this exchange, there are hints at an unsteady relationship between Joseph and Pharaoh that foreshadow what is to come. After all, Joseph was put into a position of prominence from out of prison precisely because he was useful to Pharaoh. Joseph must be very careful to promise Pharaoh that he will indeed come back and not stay in Canaan, the land of his birth. The accompaniment of Egyptian servants along the way may be partially out of respect for Joseph's high position, partially for the purpose of protection of the Israelites, and partially out of protection of Pharaoh's interests: to see to it that Joseph and his brothers (who are also on Pharaoh's payroll) return when they are done. Also, they leave their children behind.

Jacob is indeed buried at Machpelah, as the text says repeatedly. The SAB points out that Stephen claimed Jacob was buried in Shechem. Yeah, this is a contradiction, but I think there are a couple things that could be said about it. First of all, Stephen's speech in the book of Acts is a speech, and I don't know that the Bible would be required not only to be correct in every detail, but that every character in the Bible never make a mistake either. Surely there are many places in the Bible where prominent people say things that are quite mistaken. (Peter is famous for this, of course.) Secondly, Stephen is not so much making an outright error as telescoping the details of the story, since Joseph, and probably his brothers as well were buried in Shechem. This mixing of the two parts of the stories is no doubt the source of the error Stephen does appear to make about who bought the grave. In any case, this is not at all the first time we've run up against problems with Stephen's Acts 7 speech, nor will it be the last; just remember he's telling the condensed version of the Old Testament, and he's going to gloss over the details quickly.

After the funeral is over, Joseph's brothers get worried once again that he will take revenge on them, and they tell him that Jacob had commanded that they be forgiven. Jacob is never actually seen making this speech, so you might wonder whether they made it up. It doesn't matter, though, as once again, Joseph assures them that he believes it was all part of God's plan.

Joseph lives to be 110 years old (apparently not an absurd age for the SAB, whose threshold for absurd age lies somewhere between 123 and 137, I may do more research on this) and to see his great-grandchildren. I just realized that I misread an issue from chapter 48 that comes up here, but my response is the same: these prophecies about being brought back to the Promised Land (here, here and here) are not personal prophecies to be fulfilled in the lifetimes of these people, but point to the future Exodus centuries later. Jacob, Joseph, and the other patriarchs all died in Egypt, but God brought the twelve tribes of Israel back to the land in the end.

And the end this is. Genesis begins with the creation of life, and now ends with the death of this prominent patriarch of Israel. The Bible moves on to a new chapter in the history of that nation, and I will take a break.