Wandering the savage garden…

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Jonah and Reason

I’ve been studying Jonah in preparation for the men’s core training, and it’s been … interesting, and something that really concerns me (and concerns me about a lot in Christian life.)

Jonah’s been addressed by some of the greatest minds in Jewish culture – one being the Vilna Gaon, the “Genius of Vilna.” He sees Jonah through the mists not only of history, but allegory:

Jonah (“Yona” hereafter) is Hebrew for “dove,” which is a symbol for the spirit or the soul (witness the “like a dove” in Matthew 3:16, descending to say that the Father was well-pleased in the Son, for example). The allegory runs something like this:

Jonah, “the dove,” or the soul – the son of Amitai, “truth” – is sent the message of proclaiming Nineveh – the world – why we are here (repentance, obedience to God.)

Instead of going to Nineveh, into the world, the soul refuses, and descends into a body (the boat). The sea is a symbol also of the world and its desires.

The world tosses the soul to and fro, and the sailors – the body’s actions, or components – are unable to withstand the storm. The body calls to the soul, but the soul is uncaring as to its fate – and Yona says “toss me overboard.”

The soul dies, and is consumed by the fish (symbolizing the grave). Yona is dead for three days (in Judaism, the soul hovers by the body for three days.) The soul calls to God to be close to Him; Yona is then sent back to Eden (i.e., within the Will of God.) He then travels back to the world, proclaiming the message God has given him.

There’re a few sidenotes here.

First, we’re not really addressing the point of Jonah, which for me is chapter 4 and not 1-3 quite so much.

Second, the allegory doesn’t deny the events that took place, but they make the story of the fish a little … ethereal. It’s only a little ethereal because the Vilna Gaon and Rashi both see the fish both rationally (i.e., as allegory) and irrationally (i.e., as history) but the allegorical nature provides an alternative to a miraculous occurrence.

Therein lies my problem. I want to see it rationally. The history is not entirely relevant to me.

What do I mean by this? I mean that I do not say that Jonah could not have been literally swallowed by a dag gadol (dag=fish, gadol=large, giant). But saying that it could have happened is a lot different than saying it did happen.

The Vilna Gaon and Rashi both use allegory to allow the rational mind to see the beauty in the allegory without losing the story of Jonah to myth and miracle, regardless of whether it’s literal history or not; it’s just as miraculous, just as meaningful, even if it did not literally occur in history.

If asked, I could not say with full confidence that I believe that Jonah literally happened as written. In my inmost being, I would say that I do not believe it happened literally – and I would say the same for other similar occurrences (the vision of Ezechiel, for example, would be a vision – given by God, but not a literal happening).

This is part of why I am afraid to serve and teach in church, because I don’t know how to be intellectually honest with myself and a larger group of men, such that I don’t damage their faith through my own lack of it (or my own rationality). I don’t think less of those who see Jonah literally; I just don’t believe the literal occurrence is necessary for it to remain the voice and words of God.

I tell you this because I can’t pretend to be something other than what and who I am; I would rather run the risk of you seeing me as a bit of a heretic or an unbeliever, because then I can learn and understand through contrast.

What about Jesus’ reference to Yona?

Herein is the issue with Yona-as-allegory (i.e., as a story and not history): Jesus referred to it.

For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. (Matthew 12:40, ESV)

The problem can be expressed like this: if Yona is allegory, and Jesus referred to it like this, it’s possible that Jesus’ time in the grave was also allegory, which dashes the whole point of Christianity in the first place. No resurrection, no salvation through identification with Christ.

That would indeed be a problem. However, to me, the explanation comes down to reduction.

If we remove elements from a story, at what point does the removal of elements change the point or heart of the story?

There’s no broadly applicable answer for this, honestly. For some people, reading Yona as anything other than history with a meaning behind it would dash their faith upon the rocks.

I don’t think it’s worth that. As a result, I’d never argue for a conclusive result that Yona is allegory. It wouldn’t be provable in any case, but I’d rather cede the argument than hurt someone’s faith, even while I’m being honest about my own perceptions.

Looking at Yona through the eyes of reduction, though, you can remove “history” from it, and it retains its meaning. It’s no less instructive as allegory than it is as history…

… well, perhaps it is, honestly. If Yona actually underwent this kind of journey, there’s an indication of God’s commitment to using an imperfect vessel for enacting His will. But is such an expression necessary? We already have many other examples of similar men being used in similarly miraculous ways.

But using the same method on Jesus, however, and you not only lose something, you lose everything – and none of it has meaning other than being a bunch of pretty stories.

That invalidates that particular reduction, to me.

To someone else, I have to admit that it might be a stepping-stone to a loss of faith altogether. I can’t deny that, but I also can’t deny my faith in the existence and person of God.

If God is real – and to me He definitely is, as evidenced by the shadow He casts over my life and person – then the reduction of Jesus’ resurrection can’t invalidate faith in Him (it’s axiomatic) and therefore the reduction of the resurrection is invalid.

Not so much with Yona; the reduction might remove something (and therefore might be invalid) but this depends very much on the believer in question.

So there you have it: a short walk down the path of my personal conflict between reason and faith. My prayer is that you see it as potentially edifying, rather than destructive; I write only in the spirit of honesty, with full recognition of my own limitations, and long for the truth in all things, even when such truth highlights my own error.

Shalom.
(Originally published January 19, 2012)

Found Wanting

Quick context: a men’s class is studying the book of Jonah.

Our teacher has a really good way of throwing out questions that make us think, in combination with what he teaches.

On the second night, we covered the first three verses of Jonah, where it seems like relatively little happens, but those verses…

Here’s what they contain: God speaks to Jonah, saying to go to Nineveh. Jonah says no, and heads off to Tarshish.

One of the followup questions was “What would you be willing to do to duck His plan for your life?”

Consider Jonah. He’s seen as “the reluctant prophet,” which isn’t exactly true. He wasn’t reluctant at all; he wasn’t afraid at all, at least not as we think of those terms.

On the contrary, really: he had already stood up to the Assyrian Empire (see II Kings 14:25), who were the most barbaric of the eastern Empires. (The Persians, the Babylonians, and the Romans looked at Assyria and said, “See? We’re not that bad. We could have been like them.” Further, the Babylonians were seen as heroes in some ways because they wiped out Assyria.)

Anyway, Jonah wasn’t afraid of the Assyrians as much as one might imagine, because he’d been there and done that already. (Again, II Kings 14:25.)

And reluctance wasn’t a factor either, as much as racism or nationalism. The Book of Jonah says that he was angry that God might extend mercy to even the Ninevim; that’s not the same as being unwilling to serve Him. (Again, Jonah spoke for Israel already.)

Yet he ran from “the presence of the Lord,” when called to go to Nineveh. Not only did he run from doing God’s will, but he literally fled the presence of God as he saw it – even though he would have known God was everywhere.

Nineveh was northeast of Jonah’s home; he ran for a point more than two thousand miles west, across the sea – a great unknown at the time.

Sure, the frying pan wasn’t all that great, but he went from the frying pan into a fire that was much worse – just as long as it wasn’t the frying pan.

So Jonah was willing to do quite a lot to avoid God’s plan, and God mercifully intervened to return Jonah, in such a way that we can benefit from the story of what happened.

I would pray that God would have such mercy on me.

For myself, I can say that I’m no better than Jonah. I might think I’m trying to obey His will, but I know that I’ve been willing and able to do quite a bit to avoid the uncomfortable, including examining myself and my motives enough to know how flawed I am.

I can honestly say that it’s only through the mercy of God that I can see myself even partially for who I really am, a flawed human being who desires greatly to do that which fulfills the will of God even while I yearn for God to not ask too much of me.

I don’t know what anyone else is willing to do, but I ask myself constantly why I’m willing to pour so much effort into doing what I think is most beneficial for me, and why I don’t surrender to His will.

It’s only through His mercy and sacrifice that I’m not found completely wanting.

Shalom.

(Originally published January 18, 2012.)

Something’s been bothering me from my word study

Something about my word study on Philippians 4:19 has been bothering me for a few days.

I referred to the Greek word plouton (or more accurately, ploutos, πλοῦτος, both translated typically as “riches” or “wealth”), and made an association to Pluto and Ploutos, the Roman and Greek gods of wealth.

The cultural shift in the reference to Pluto as an association to a Greek word – has been a gadfly for me.

Was I incorrect in making the association at all? Wouldn’t Ploutos – the Greek reference, not the Roman – be the right reference to use?

Well, maybe… but probably not.

I think of two “ages” in culture from the Hellenistic era in Roman antiquity: a time when Greek culture ruled from Greece, and then the time when Greek culture ruled from Rome.

The Romans took Greek mythology and translated it, occasionally importing names directly but usually equating Greek gods to generally Roman equivalents. Therefore, Zeus became Jupiter, Hera became Juno, Heracles (the son of Zeus, named “Heracles” to mollify the endlessly jealous Hera) became Hercules, Odysseus became Ulysses, etc. etc. etc.

The Greek Hades became the Roman Pluto.

Pluto sounds roughly like ploutos does, and one aspect of Pluto was that he was the god of wealth in addition to the lord of the realm of death. (Mythological tradition around his exact role is horribly confused; generally it depends on what source you pull from and in which era, because his role and identity shifted quite remarkably over time.)

Why, though, would I think a sentence in Greek would have a reference to the Roman god of wealth?

Well… because it probably did. Paul was writing in a time that was not Greek, but definitely Roman; Greek was simply the lingua franca, the language of commerce and culture at the time.

Paul wouldn’t have cared about the names of the Greek gods when writing to a Roman audience (an audience under Roman authority) in Greek. He would have used references and associations that made sense for the time and audience. (Even the writer of the book of Hebrews used Greek, despite writing to a distinctly Hebraic audience.)

So my thought is this: while I still dislike the reference to Pluto, a Roman name for a Greek god, as an associated word to plouton, a purely Greek word referring to riches, the etymology of the name “Pluto” validates the reference – Pluto is a Romanization of the original Greek word, and therefore is less Roman than Greek in the first place.

My concerns over an invalid association are not as valid as I feared.

Incidentally, the study of Pluto is a fascinating exercise in and of itself. Apparently the Roman equivalent was Dis pater and Orcus, and Pluto was used because it was a positive reference to the god, as opposed to one that caused fear (as “Hades” did as well). The poor mythological guy – he never really seems to have been understood.

(Originally published January 31, 2012.)

Philippians 4:19: God will supply our needs…

We had an interesting study in Sunday school, on the end of Philippians – 4:19 through 4:23.

The class focused on 4:19:

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. (NIV)

The teacher asserted that this verse was used to justify a “prosperity gospel,” in that people asserted that “all your needs” was the same as “all your wants.” I never really thought of this verse in terms of a prosperity gospel, so I was arriving at it with what I thought were neutral biases – and wanted to find out more about what the words being used were, since translations seem odd to me when they’re so easily misapplied.

First off, I’m definitely not a student of Greek – go figure – so I’m more or less trying to build an understanding out of nothing.

I zeroed in on the word “riches” – or “wealth,” as it was in my NT – as the focal word. What got me thinking was that “riches” and “wealth” were underspecific in terms of the verse, because wealth is such a simple concept compared to what we were talking about.

Yet the word used is plouton – which is accurately translated as “riches” or “wealth,” specifically worldly riches and wealth. “An abundance of worldly possessions” is one definition, even, and this fits with the usage in Greek and Roman myth, too, as the god Pluto (Hades in Greek) is a god of wealth along with the similarly-named Ploutos. (Apparently Ploutos was the god of wealth, but Hades – as a cthonic god, a god associated with things under the earth – became associated with wealth as well, as gold and other valuable minerals were found under the earth.)

Anyway, with “plouton” in mind, apparently there isn’t a key word as much as the entire phrase needs to be understood as a whole: ‘according to his riches in Christ Jesus’ is a concept that isn’t simply expressed. The evaluation I expressed was that “riches” was contextual, and what God values is not worldly riches, but those things He values (i.e., obedience), but the word study itself doesn’t expose that. The contextual study does, but not the word study.

As a corollary, the rendering of “the grace of the Lord Jesus be with your spirit” doesn’t show up well in the word study either – although, again, remember my understanding of Greek, which is beyond laughable and well into “moronic.”

The phrase ‘with your spirit’ is meta pantOn in the Greek (and one thing I do appreciate about Greek is that it’s generally read left-to-right.) pantOn is “all things,” so perhaps “with all things about you” would be a good rendering as well.

I don’t know.

I don’t usually enjoy zeroing in on word studies, because there’s a cultural transition that doesn’t get communicated well with them. You can’t just study words, you have to consider all of the context – which means “with your spirit” and “according to his riches” becomes a history lesson of Roman culture, Hebrew culture (esp. as applied to a diasporic Hebrew mindset), and regional history around Philippi.

That said, that doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile – they just tend to yield an opened can of worms!

Wait, all that and no explanation of Phi 4:19?

Argh! Okay, here’s a quick rundown of what the verse actually means: it means that God does, in fact, supply all that is needed by the believer according to His will. The concern is in what “all that is needed” means.

The prosperity gospel focuses on what is wanted; “I need new shoes, I need to eat the finest foods, I need a large house, I need a nice car…” and none of those are needs. They’re not even physical needs, much less spiritual needs.

God fills those needs in accordance with His riches.

What does God consider wealth?

Well… wealth is created by a shortage of an item. Gold is rare, so it is a measure of wealth, for example, if you don’t mind a very simple example.

This may surprise you, but God doesn’t lack much gold. Or silver. Or livestock. Or land. Or anything else which we can measure in material goods.

What God desires more of is not livestock or land or precious metals, but fulfillment of His inestimable Will.

So fulfilling a need, in accordance with His wealth and not our pitiable measures of it, means that God fulfills our need to be able to fulfill our lives in Him.

This may mean we get food – perhaps fine food. It may mean we receive the ability to acquire shoes, or shelter, or cars. However, these things are secondary to His desire.

God works to the fulfillment of His will, through us. (We’re not necessary for this process, but God does as He will.) This is what this verse is telling us will be supplied, not material wealth.

Shalom.

(Originally published on January 24, 2012)