Bible.org posted an article I wrote about Israel as setting based on my recent travels. You can read the article here.
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Israel: Understanding the Setting of the Bible
Filed Under: bible stories, Bible studies, Israel, setting, travel
Holy Week Thoughts–Sour Wine
One of the things I’ve come to learn about John’s Gospel is its rich literariness–the metaphors and images John employs throughout his writing.
Such as wine.
Here’s how he ends the pericope about Jesus’ death:
After this Jesus, realizing that by this time everything was completed, said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty!” A jar full of sour wine was there, so they put a sponge soaked in sour wine on a branch of hyssop and lifted it to his mouth. When he had received the sour wine, Jesus said, “It is completed!” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
In John, Jesus introduced himself as Messiah by turning water into wine at a wedding. This was no mistake. In the Old Testament, wine is used as a symbol of the Messianic kingdom. Wine will be found in abundance at the time of the deliverer: "The Lord who commands armies will hold a banquet for all the nations on this mountain. At this banquet there will be plenty of meat and aged wine – tender meat and choicest wine" (Isaiah 25:6) and "But those who harvest the grain will eat it, and will praise the Lord. Those who pick the grapes will drink the wine in the courts of my holy sanctuary" (Isaiah 62:9).
And now this man, the living water, the Creator who has the power to turn water into wine, thirsts. He thirsts because He has been abandoned by God. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?…My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth, and God lays him in the dust of death (Psalm 22:1, 15). His thirst fulfilled scripture as the deliverer became the slave.
And they gave him sour wine, the drink reserved for slaves and soldiers.
Note: some translations call it "vinegar." Wine, as it sours, becomes vinegar. This was a cheap vinegar or sour wine given to slaves and soldiers. It was probably there for the soldiers.
Filed Under: ancient stories, bible stories, Holy Week, Passion week, wine
Hello? McFly?
Yesterday’s reading for Lent was Mark 8:1-10, and today’s continued through the end of the chapter. Jesus had been teaching for 3 days, and people had been listening. Can you imagine people stopping their lives–not even breaking for a meal–to listen to someone speak? After three days, Jesus tells the disciples to find these poor people food. He had compassion on them.
"Uh, yeah, Jesus?"
"Yes?"
The disciples look over their shoulders at the crowd. "We don’t have any food."
Jesus rolls his eyes. "Uh, yeah, disciples?"
"Yes?"
"Remember the feeding of the 5,000?’
"Oh, yeah!"
Then they get on a boat, meet some Pharisees, get back on the boat because Jesus will do something he’ll regret if he has to be around those Pharisees for one more second.
"Beware the yeast of the Pharisees," Jesus tells his disciples.
The whisper to each other. "He’s grumpy because we forgot to bring food."
Jesus smacks his forehead. How long, Father? "You guys really don’t get it, do you?"
Blank stares.
Two things strike me about this, and they strike me precisely because I’m one of these disciples:
- They’re not too bright. Exactly how many times do they have to see Jesus multiply food before they start thinking outside the box?
- Their consumption with their own problems prevents them from having compassion on others.
Ouch. I spend more time dwelling on the woes-is-me that I’m too worn out to intercede on the behalf of others. And isn’t that my purpose? To spill out God’s love and goodness to those around me? I focus on why God isn’t using me the way I want to be used rather than how I can serve those God’s put into my life right now.
It just so happens that God works through me despite me. He hands me the seven loaves and even in the midst of wondering why God’s not doing such-and-such, he multiplies the bread. It’s not how I imagined it, which makes it all the more obvious that this is God working. Not me.
How many times does Jesus smack his forehead when I turn to him asking for bread? Reminds me of a song by Caedmon’s Call:
Water, water everywhere
And I complain about my thirst.
My husband and I read a prayer yesterday attributed to St. Francis. I’d like to make it my prayer these next couple of weeks:
Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
Filed Under: ancient stories, bible stories, Jesus' disciples, Lenten readings, trust
Sally's Dirge
God tested Abraham. Abraham didn’t know he was being tested. He knew only that God asked him to slaughter his son.
Do you know how many times "son" is used in Genesis 22? In the first ten verses, Moses uses "son" seven times. Things like, "God said, ‘Take your son–your only son, whom you love, Isaac–and go to the land of Moriah!’"
Questions storm my mind:
Would I? Could I? Raise my knife?
What kind of God would ask this? It’s immoral, to say the least! It’s evil.
Does Abraham trust the God of the promise over the promise itself?
Do I trust this same God of promise?
God has made me no certain promises regarding my writing. I don’t know that my books will publish. I only know that it’s my job to serve Him with my writing. But He has made me promises. Promises that He will work all for good. Promises of a peace that transcends all understanding, of a greater depth of love. Promises to finish the work He started. Promises of a glorious future with Him and with the body of Christ in a land far beyond my imagination (and have you seen my imagination?).
He’s a God of promises.
Do I trust Him?
As far as I know, God’s not asking me to give up my writing. But He is asking, "Do you trust me with it? Do you trust me over your own ability? Do you treasure Me over the writing?"
Several weeks ago, we adopted fish for our tank: Sally, Peter, and the Jets (the four clown fish that never stayed still long enough for me to figure out which one’s which). On Sunday, Sally died. We don’t know why. My husband spied her belly up next to the pirate ship.
In any good story, death preceeds resurrection. What is the reward if you don’t have to fight for it?
I doubt I’ll see Sally swimming around, especially since the shrimp have gotten to her by now. But it makes me think about my death and resurrection, not only the ultimate one, but on this particular journey.
If Abraham knew all that was in store for him, the years of pain, the fears, the fights, if he knew that someday he would have to raise his knife to his own son, would he have left his home back in chapter 12?
Filed Under: bible stories, sacrifice, writing
Dallas Events–Books and Such
For those of you in the Dallas area, to keep you abreast of what’s going on:
If you enjoy books, join us for the monthly book club. We meet at Christ Church, Plano at 7:30 the third Monday of the month with the exception of March, which will be the fourth Monday.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be discussing Informed Consent by Sandra Glahn and the author will be joining us.
Email me at heatheragoodman [at] yahoo [dot] com for more information or leave a comment.
If you don’t live in the Dallas area or can’t make the meeting, join the discussion on the cyber version.
For those of you interested in finding a Bible study that incorporates theology, creativity, and social action, there’s "Follies: A Reel Look at Abraham and Sarah." This study, written by yours truly, uses story structure and movie terms to take an authentic look at the lives of Abraham and Sarah. It will meet for six weeks on Tuesday evenings from February 5 through March 11 at Christ Church in Plano (Room 4211 in the Archgate building). The group will serve together on a small outreach project as part of the learning process. Participants will also be invited to express what they are learning through the lives of Abraham and Sarah in a creative project.
Again, email me (heatheragoodma [at] yahoo [dot] com) if you’re interested!
Filed Under: bible stories, books
Mentor Monday
Today I’m going to tell you about a woman I’ve never met but have long admired. I don’t know much of her ministry, but what I do know challenges me daily.
She had nothing.
She was a widow, poor. But she loved God and determined to give Him everything.
The money she gave was neglatory compared to what the wealthy and businesses give just to get their tax write-offs. But she gave it all, and her motives were pure.
Not many noticed her. Her life was quiet, nondescript even. But it’s a beautiful example of the poor ministering for Christ.
What she did makes me rethink our vacation and HDTV savings.
She had nothing.
She was a widow, poor. But she loved God and determined to give Him everything.
The money she gave was neglatory compared to what the wealthy and businesses give just to get their tax write-offs. But she gave it all, and her motives were pure.
Not many noticed her. Her life was quiet, nondescript even. But it’s a beautiful example of the poor ministering for Christ.
What she did makes me rethink our vacation and HDTV savings.
21:1 Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box. 21:2 He also saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. 21:3 He said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. 21:4 For they all offered their gifts out of their wealth. But she, out of her poverty, put in everything she had to live on.”
Luke 21:1-4, NET
Filed Under: bible stories, living generously
What If I'm Pharaoh?
Has the potter no right to make from the same lump of clay one vessel for special use and another for ordinary use? (Romans 9:21)
What if I’m Pharaoh? Or Esau? Okay, so I know that those examples are bad because I know that I’m a child of God. But what if I’m ordinary?
What if I’m not Esther or Ruth or even Rahab? What if my "for such a time as this" comes down to doing the laundry on a regular basis (and believe me, this is not such a time for that).
Free will and predestination are tricky things. My dad explained it to me this way: there are two ropes hanging from a ceiling. One is free will. The other is predestination. On the other side of the ceiling, they are connected by pulleys and levers. We don’t know how. We have to use both ropes to get to the ceiling. Let go of one rope, and you fall. If you look in Exodus, sometimes it says that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. Sometimes it says that Pharaoh hardened his heart. Other times it just says that his heart was hardened. But however it happened, God used it for His glory.
Here’s the thing, though. I want to think I’m special. Or at least, I want to think that God has a special purpose for me, some shining moment. I want to think that He’s going to use me through published books. But what if He’s not going to? What if my purpose is–gasp–ordinary? I don’t want to be the pot that goes to the well everyday for water. I want to be the pot painted with muses and set at the king’s table.
But that may not be the case.
I may be ordinary.
And after all, it was the ordinary vats that held the water that was turned to wine. And it was an ordinary jug that filled and refilled with oil for the poor widow at Elijah’s word.
Filed Under: bible stories, ordinary
What Leviticus Taught Me
It taught me that Jesus was stubborn and impossible.
According to Leviticus, no priest with any deformity could serve in the once a year Holy of Holies ceremony. (Note: said priest would still be part of the priesthood, would still have duties and would still receive their pay. The important factor is that they could not be in the presence of God.) Nothing but perfection could go before the Lord (c.f. the passages describing the requirement of sacrifices: again, perfection – nothing blemished). Priests could not touch any dead body (except for their wife, children, mother, father and siblings, although not siblings by marriage). (Note: this explains the Good Samaritan. The priest in the story wanted to make sure he didn’t touch a dead body, so just in case the body laying on the side of the road was dead, he went around the long ways.) A jug that contained a dead fly would have to be smashed. Carcasses found dead in the fields could not be touched. Nothing that came into contact with this death and decay could be in the presence of God (except for the sacrifices). Anyone who came into contact with a woman on her period or anyone with a hemorrhaging problem would be considered unclean and would have to go through a slew of cleansing rituals.
I want to make sure that I don’t present God as unkind. He also told them to treat the foreigner as one of them (scandalous!), to treat their slaves kindly (unheard of!), and to leave part of their fields unharvested so that the poor could come in and take some (uneconomical!). He called the Israelites to live hospitable and generous lives, too.
But back to Jesus. Jesus touched dead bodies and a woman with a hemorrhaging problem and men with leprosy. Instead of becoming defiled, he gave life with these touches. However, the Pharisees saw a breaking of the law. He’s touching everything God said not to touch. He’s touching everything God said couldn’t be in His presence because of His holiness. And this guy is claiming to be God! Right. Yeah. Except that it goes against everything we believe, the Pharisees said. This guy is immoral.
Leviticus taught me to understand the Pharisees. I didn’t say they were right, mind you. I just said I understand. If a guy acting immorally claimed to be Jesus, I’m not sure I would believe Him either.
Of course Jesus exuded God’s love and redemption, something the Pharisees didn’t understand, something that was supposed to be part and parcel of the whole purpose of the Israelites.
And Numbers (while we’re at the hard books of the Bible to get through): all those countings of all those Israelites. Man, oh, man, can that be boring. But here’s the thing. Over 600,000 men of fighting age accounted for at the time Moses wrote the book. Which means well over 1 million Israelites if you add in all the women and children. All from Abraham, who, after 100 years of infertility hanging on a promise that God would make him the father of a great nation, had one son. 400 years later, voila! A nation of 1 million people.
Here’s the other crazy thing: these Israelites, over 600,000 of fighting age, in tip-top shape from years of hard labor and camping in the wilderness, tremble in their sandals at having to go in and fight the Canaanites. This is after hearing the stories of Abraham and his faith and the time Abraham fought and beat the Canaanites with just over 300 men, and this is after they saw the 10 plagues and God deliver them from slavery and the parting of the Red Sea. Imagine walking through a sea with hundreds of yards of water wall tall on either side, fish and sharks and whales swimming through. But they walked through. They experienced it all. And they whined.
Today’s theme, I think: stubbornness.
According to Leviticus, no priest with any deformity could serve in the once a year Holy of Holies ceremony. (Note: said priest would still be part of the priesthood, would still have duties and would still receive their pay. The important factor is that they could not be in the presence of God.) Nothing but perfection could go before the Lord (c.f. the passages describing the requirement of sacrifices: again, perfection – nothing blemished). Priests could not touch any dead body (except for their wife, children, mother, father and siblings, although not siblings by marriage). (Note: this explains the Good Samaritan. The priest in the story wanted to make sure he didn’t touch a dead body, so just in case the body laying on the side of the road was dead, he went around the long ways.) A jug that contained a dead fly would have to be smashed. Carcasses found dead in the fields could not be touched. Nothing that came into contact with this death and decay could be in the presence of God (except for the sacrifices). Anyone who came into contact with a woman on her period or anyone with a hemorrhaging problem would be considered unclean and would have to go through a slew of cleansing rituals.
I want to make sure that I don’t present God as unkind. He also told them to treat the foreigner as one of them (scandalous!), to treat their slaves kindly (unheard of!), and to leave part of their fields unharvested so that the poor could come in and take some (uneconomical!). He called the Israelites to live hospitable and generous lives, too.
But back to Jesus. Jesus touched dead bodies and a woman with a hemorrhaging problem and men with leprosy. Instead of becoming defiled, he gave life with these touches. However, the Pharisees saw a breaking of the law. He’s touching everything God said not to touch. He’s touching everything God said couldn’t be in His presence because of His holiness. And this guy is claiming to be God! Right. Yeah. Except that it goes against everything we believe, the Pharisees said. This guy is immoral.
Leviticus taught me to understand the Pharisees. I didn’t say they were right, mind you. I just said I understand. If a guy acting immorally claimed to be Jesus, I’m not sure I would believe Him either.
Of course Jesus exuded God’s love and redemption, something the Pharisees didn’t understand, something that was supposed to be part and parcel of the whole purpose of the Israelites.
And Numbers (while we’re at the hard books of the Bible to get through): all those countings of all those Israelites. Man, oh, man, can that be boring. But here’s the thing. Over 600,000 men of fighting age accounted for at the time Moses wrote the book. Which means well over 1 million Israelites if you add in all the women and children. All from Abraham, who, after 100 years of infertility hanging on a promise that God would make him the father of a great nation, had one son. 400 years later, voila! A nation of 1 million people.
Here’s the other crazy thing: these Israelites, over 600,000 of fighting age, in tip-top shape from years of hard labor and camping in the wilderness, tremble in their sandals at having to go in and fight the Canaanites. This is after hearing the stories of Abraham and his faith and the time Abraham fought and beat the Canaanites with just over 300 men, and this is after they saw the 10 plagues and God deliver them from slavery and the parting of the Red Sea. Imagine walking through a sea with hundreds of yards of water wall tall on either side, fish and sharks and whales swimming through. But they walked through. They experienced it all. And they whined.
Today’s theme, I think: stubbornness.
Filed Under: bible stories, Jesus, theology
Leah's Eyes
I constantly learn from my Dad. This Thanksgiving was no exception. In the middle of some meal together (although not the Thanksgiving meal), my Dad asked me, “What do you think about Leah?” Now, this sounds out of context, but I know my Dad, and I know that he loves to talk about the Bible. I know only one Leah in the Bible, so I answered, “With her tender or nice or fine eyes?” Bingo! And we were off.
You see, several translations of the Bible call her eyes weak, giving the impression that she was homely or needed Coke bottle glasses, as my Dad said. But, with all of the newer lexicon tools and studies, the translations are changing to call them tender or delicate or pretty. Gentle eyes. (Cf. Gen. 18:7; 33:13)
This is where my Dad took it even further, did his own studies with the Hebrew and how it is used other places in the Bible. The Hebrews often used body parts to symbolize inner features or character. (A familiar one: the heart = will.) Here, my Dad said, the eyes show mental qualities like anger, arrogance, humility, pity, etc (cf. Deut. 7:16; 15:9; 28:54, 56). Rachel was outwardly beautiful; Leah held inner beauty. Jacob chose on outward beauty. Here’s where it gets really interesting, and scary. It seems that Leah was God’s choice for Jacob, and God used Laban’s manipulation and deceit to accomplish that much as God used Jacob’s manipulation and deceit in previous stories with Esau and Isaac. Remember, Leah mothered Judah, the line of David and Jesus, the son of the promise. And, if it is true the polygamy is indeed wrong (which, I think, we all would affirm – although, technically the Bible never explicitly says it’s wrong), then Rachel should have never been Jacob’s wife.
Yikes!
This messes with my Western romance sensibilities. Jacob worked seven years in love with this woman. What do you mean, she should have never been the wife?
Look at the literary clues, my Dad said. (My Dad loves literary clues. Hmm. Do you think that’s where I got it?) Moses points out that Leah was buried with Jacob and Isaac and Rebekah and Abraham and Sarah. Rachel was buried somewhere else entirely. She didn’t belong.
Harsh.
But what about Joseph and how he saved his family from famine?
God uses even our mess-ups for His glory.
But, but, but. This just doesn’t feel right. (Aren’t we glad that God’s character is not based on how we feel something should go?)
Then I remembered a story from my life. I had a first love in college. He broke my heart. Now I am married to the most incredible man in the world. Isn’t that similar to Jacob’s story? Could he not have chosen to love Leah? And, yes, things could have gone down differently. Laban could have tried honesty.
Some thoughts to think about courtesy my Dad, a wise man.
You see, several translations of the Bible call her eyes weak, giving the impression that she was homely or needed Coke bottle glasses, as my Dad said. But, with all of the newer lexicon tools and studies, the translations are changing to call them tender or delicate or pretty. Gentle eyes. (Cf. Gen. 18:7; 33:13)
This is where my Dad took it even further, did his own studies with the Hebrew and how it is used other places in the Bible. The Hebrews often used body parts to symbolize inner features or character. (A familiar one: the heart = will.) Here, my Dad said, the eyes show mental qualities like anger, arrogance, humility, pity, etc (cf. Deut. 7:16; 15:9; 28:54, 56). Rachel was outwardly beautiful; Leah held inner beauty. Jacob chose on outward beauty. Here’s where it gets really interesting, and scary. It seems that Leah was God’s choice for Jacob, and God used Laban’s manipulation and deceit to accomplish that much as God used Jacob’s manipulation and deceit in previous stories with Esau and Isaac. Remember, Leah mothered Judah, the line of David and Jesus, the son of the promise. And, if it is true the polygamy is indeed wrong (which, I think, we all would affirm – although, technically the Bible never explicitly says it’s wrong), then Rachel should have never been Jacob’s wife.
Yikes!
This messes with my Western romance sensibilities. Jacob worked seven years in love with this woman. What do you mean, she should have never been the wife?
Look at the literary clues, my Dad said. (My Dad loves literary clues. Hmm. Do you think that’s where I got it?) Moses points out that Leah was buried with Jacob and Isaac and Rebekah and Abraham and Sarah. Rachel was buried somewhere else entirely. She didn’t belong.
Harsh.
But what about Joseph and how he saved his family from famine?
God uses even our mess-ups for His glory.
But, but, but. This just doesn’t feel right. (Aren’t we glad that God’s character is not based on how we feel something should go?)
Then I remembered a story from my life. I had a first love in college. He broke my heart. Now I am married to the most incredible man in the world. Isn’t that similar to Jacob’s story? Could he not have chosen to love Leah? And, yes, things could have gone down differently. Laban could have tried honesty.
Some thoughts to think about courtesy my Dad, a wise man.
Filed Under: bible stories
The Power of Story
My husband and I have been reading through Genesis. Here’s the thing about Genesis: Moses is telling this story to the Israelites, who are about to enter this scary land of Canaan with “giants” and all sorts of warriors. Moses can’t go with them. He’s staying behind, so he tells them this story to encourage them, something to take with them to remember about their God and their history. Some of those “what on earth?” passages begin to make sense.
Take, for example, the Nephilim and the whole bout with “sons of God” having sex with the “daughters of humankind” and producing offspring. These sons of God were most likely some sort of spiritual being, whether demon possessed men or angelic beings (compare with the usage of this phrase in Job). The text makes it very clear that this was not a good thing. A horrible thing, actually, that causes God to shorten lifespans of these immoral mortal humans. These “biblical relations,” shall we call them, produced offspring. The text implies, although it does not actually say, that these Nephilim, these giants who became mighty warriors, were a product of this horrid event. And then the text continues to talk about God’s disappointment with wicked human and the flood.
Huh?
Here’s the deal: Canaanite leaders (the Canaanite leaders whom Israel would fight) claimed to be divine because they were descended from Nephilim, whom they believed to be divine. Intimidating.
Not so much, Moses said. Not so much divine as wicked. Yes, they may have been great warriors, Moses concedes, but just mortal, and wicked mortal at that. Caused things like shorten lifespans and the flood. No reason to fear them. Our God is greater.
Than there’s the story of Noah’s drunken stupor. He goes to bed naked. His youngest son, Ham, walks in on him and goes out making fun of him. Shames his dad, disgraces him. Bad son. Shem and Japheth, however go through great pains to make sure they cover their father and preserve his honor while averting their eyes. (It’s a middle east shame-honor thing. We westerners don’t always get these things.) Noah cursed Ham and his descendents but blessed Shem and his descendents. (Whatever happened to poor forgotten Japheth?)
So?
So from Ham, we learn in begets, comes Canaan. From Shem comes Israelites. You, Moses tells the Israelites, are the blessed ones. Those Canaanites? Cursed. You’re good to go.
Love how Moses weaves these stories.
Take, for example, the Nephilim and the whole bout with “sons of God” having sex with the “daughters of humankind” and producing offspring. These sons of God were most likely some sort of spiritual being, whether demon possessed men or angelic beings (compare with the usage of this phrase in Job). The text makes it very clear that this was not a good thing. A horrible thing, actually, that causes God to shorten lifespans of these immoral mortal humans. These “biblical relations,” shall we call them, produced offspring. The text implies, although it does not actually say, that these Nephilim, these giants who became mighty warriors, were a product of this horrid event. And then the text continues to talk about God’s disappointment with wicked human and the flood.
Huh?
Here’s the deal: Canaanite leaders (the Canaanite leaders whom Israel would fight) claimed to be divine because they were descended from Nephilim, whom they believed to be divine. Intimidating.
Not so much, Moses said. Not so much divine as wicked. Yes, they may have been great warriors, Moses concedes, but just mortal, and wicked mortal at that. Caused things like shorten lifespans and the flood. No reason to fear them. Our God is greater.
Than there’s the story of Noah’s drunken stupor. He goes to bed naked. His youngest son, Ham, walks in on him and goes out making fun of him. Shames his dad, disgraces him. Bad son. Shem and Japheth, however go through great pains to make sure they cover their father and preserve his honor while averting their eyes. (It’s a middle east shame-honor thing. We westerners don’t always get these things.) Noah cursed Ham and his descendents but blessed Shem and his descendents. (Whatever happened to poor forgotten Japheth?)
So?
So from Ham, we learn in begets, comes Canaan. From Shem comes Israelites. You, Moses tells the Israelites, are the blessed ones. Those Canaanites? Cursed. You’re good to go.
Love how Moses weaves these stories.
Filed Under: bible stories
