Wow, two months since I've posted. Work has been crazy! Before I got so busy, I read a book by Philip Harland on assocational life in Roman Asia Minor, a very interesting one at that.
Harland's analysis of the place of associations in the Greek East of the Roman empire begins with a critique of the former scholarly consensus about the character of associations, which saw them in large part as subversive "clubs." In this view, members of associations, drawn largerly from the lower classes, gathered together according to religious commitments, ethnicity, occupation, etc. as a way to feel connected; this desire for connectedness, moreover, was prompted by a sense of dislocation from civic mechanisms as the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire. Associational activity, then, was a way to express and relieve a deep-seated angst.
In exposing this consensus to critique, Harland is able to show that far from being protest movements, associations actually provided a link to civic participation. His examination of inscriptional evidence demonstrated a rich interplay between associations of all different stripes and prominent individuals (e.g., through benefaction) and civic bodies. An association would court the favor of rich and influential members of society; those individuals might bestow significant financial resources to the association; the association in turn would respond by honoring the benefactor with prayers and/or a highly visible inscription on a building used for meeting and banqueting. Associations needed the support of such individuals and civic bodies in terms of financial support and (sometimes) offical sanctioning, and prominent members of society craved the honor that came from being recognized for their benefactions.
One of the most interesting parts of Harland's study is his attempt to set Jewish and Christian gathering in the context of associational life. He notes, for instance, the similar terminology that applied to both (synagogues, etc). In fact, he argues that in many places Jews and Christians who gathered together in their respective communities would have conceived of their activities and identity as belonging to the category of association.
In characterizing Jewish and Christian gatherings along the lines of associations, Harland is note suggesting that there is a geneological relationship along the line of their belief systems or even that--in the history-of-religions framework--that such Jewish and Christian groups somehow were a natural outgrowth of the latter in a social evolutionary process. Rather, there is an analogical relationship that tells us much about composition and typical activities. Harland suggests that many scholars of a previous generation, fearful of any suggestion of such a geneaological relationship and wanting to assert Christianity's utter uniqueness as movement, resisted drawing analogies between Jewish/Christian gatherings and associations. Many similarities are to be seen, however, when it comes to investigating much of their activities and the self-descriptive terminology employed, as well as, and here is the surprising part, their relationship with civic authorities--which I hope to come back to.
6.27.2009
4.30.2009
King and Messiah, Chapter 4, Part 2
The Similtudes of Enoch
In this text is found the “most important and extensive portrayal of a figure called “Son of Man,” . . . apart from Daniel 7.” Collins first deals with authorship and dating of this work. He attributes the Similtudes to a Jewish author writing between 40–70 ce. A Christian author, he argues, would have applied to the title to Jesus (which does not happen), and a Jewish author, if he were writing after 70 ce would certainly have avoided use of “Son of Man,” since it was commonly used by Christians (e.g., in the Gospels) in describing Jesus.
At any rate, what is most pertinent about the Similtudes’ characterization of the “Son of Man” is, first, its portrayal of him as preexistent in a way “typical in pre-Christian Judaism . . . of wisdom.” Moreover, the “Son of Man,” though not said to originate from David, “takes over the functions of the Davidic king vis-à-vis the nations.” In other words, he is enthroned and acts as “the eschatological judge.” Collins points out that despite the fact the “Son of Man” is not also called the “Son of God,” he is angelic and yet, on account of his enthronement, clearly holds authority beyond that given to most angels.
4 Ezra 13
A final text of importance is the apocalypse known as 4 Ezra. Collins highlights the language in the third vision within this work as key for his theme:
Then after seven days I had a dream in the night. I saw a wind rising from the sea that stirred up all its waves. As I kept looking, that wind brought up out of the depths of the sea something resembling a man and that man was flying with the clouds of heaven. . . .
Since the work only exists in translations, and not in the original Semitic, we do not have access to the original words. Collins, however, suggests that “the original may have read ‘Son of Man,” but contends that even if it didn’t, “it is clearly adapting and reworking Daniel’s vision.” Within this vision, the man rising out of the sea occupies the “role traditionally ascribed to the messianic king.” Though the elements, such as sea and clouds, function differently than they do in Daniel’s vision, nevertheless the author of 4 Ezra is appropriating them self-consciously and giving them a creative reinterpretations.
Conclusion
Reflecting on The Similtudes and 4 Ezra, Collins does find points of departure: “The one is a warrior, concerned with the restoration of Israel. The other is a judge, enthroned in heaven, who does not appear on earth at all.” However, it is still the case that both “identify him with the messiah, and describe his role in terms usually applied to the Davidic messiah, although they understand his role in different ways.”
Collins finds in these texts a tendency to see the messiah as preexistent, and as a heavenly figure. He points out, crucially, that there “was evidently no orthodoxy, and only limited consistency, in the ways in which the messiah might be imagined.” Countless texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls, in ruminating on the Davidic messiah, say nothing about his divine status, while texts such as those just discussed speculate “about heavenly deliverers” in a way typical of the period and literature. To Collins:
“In the context of first-century-ce Judaism, it is not surprising or anomalous that divine status should be attributed to someone who was believed by his followers to be the messiah. At the same time, it should be noted that neither the king in ancient Judah nor the messiah in most instances was the object of worship.”
In this text is found the “most important and extensive portrayal of a figure called “Son of Man,” . . . apart from Daniel 7.” Collins first deals with authorship and dating of this work. He attributes the Similtudes to a Jewish author writing between 40–70 ce. A Christian author, he argues, would have applied to the title to Jesus (which does not happen), and a Jewish author, if he were writing after 70 ce would certainly have avoided use of “Son of Man,” since it was commonly used by Christians (e.g., in the Gospels) in describing Jesus.
At any rate, what is most pertinent about the Similtudes’ characterization of the “Son of Man” is, first, its portrayal of him as preexistent in a way “typical in pre-Christian Judaism . . . of wisdom.” Moreover, the “Son of Man,” though not said to originate from David, “takes over the functions of the Davidic king vis-à-vis the nations.” In other words, he is enthroned and acts as “the eschatological judge.” Collins points out that despite the fact the “Son of Man” is not also called the “Son of God,” he is angelic and yet, on account of his enthronement, clearly holds authority beyond that given to most angels.
4 Ezra 13
A final text of importance is the apocalypse known as 4 Ezra. Collins highlights the language in the third vision within this work as key for his theme:
Then after seven days I had a dream in the night. I saw a wind rising from the sea that stirred up all its waves. As I kept looking, that wind brought up out of the depths of the sea something resembling a man and that man was flying with the clouds of heaven. . . .
Since the work only exists in translations, and not in the original Semitic, we do not have access to the original words. Collins, however, suggests that “the original may have read ‘Son of Man,” but contends that even if it didn’t, “it is clearly adapting and reworking Daniel’s vision.” Within this vision, the man rising out of the sea occupies the “role traditionally ascribed to the messianic king.” Though the elements, such as sea and clouds, function differently than they do in Daniel’s vision, nevertheless the author of 4 Ezra is appropriating them self-consciously and giving them a creative reinterpretations.
Conclusion
Reflecting on The Similtudes and 4 Ezra, Collins does find points of departure: “The one is a warrior, concerned with the restoration of Israel. The other is a judge, enthroned in heaven, who does not appear on earth at all.” However, it is still the case that both “identify him with the messiah, and describe his role in terms usually applied to the Davidic messiah, although they understand his role in different ways.”
Collins finds in these texts a tendency to see the messiah as preexistent, and as a heavenly figure. He points out, crucially, that there “was evidently no orthodoxy, and only limited consistency, in the ways in which the messiah might be imagined.” Countless texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls, in ruminating on the Davidic messiah, say nothing about his divine status, while texts such as those just discussed speculate “about heavenly deliverers” in a way typical of the period and literature. To Collins:
“In the context of first-century-ce Judaism, it is not surprising or anomalous that divine status should be attributed to someone who was believed by his followers to be the messiah. At the same time, it should be noted that neither the king in ancient Judah nor the messiah in most instances was the object of worship.”
4.22.2009
The Exploding Wolf in Romans 7
Michael Bird proposes a delightful anology for the Romans 7 struggle over at Euangelion. I, like Bird, see Romans 7 as providing a description of Paul's pre-Christian condition, rather than, as we hear so often in the pulpit, the struggle inherent to the Christian condition.
Read Bird's "Exploding Wolf" analogy here.
Read Bird's "Exploding Wolf" analogy here.
4.18.2009
King and Messiah, Chapter 4, Part 1
Collins begins Chapter 4, “Messiah and Son of Man,” by discussing and eventually dismissing the notion of some scholars that lying behind Jewish conceptions of the “Son of Man” was a myth of Iranian origin. While advocates of this view believe the “Jewish conception of ‘the Son of Man’ was a ‘Jewish variant of this oriental, cosmological, eschatological myth of Anthropos [Gk, “Man”],” adapted and transformed, Collins has a different explanation. He credits instead the creative forces of Jewish reflection on and exegesis of Daniel’s vision (Dan. 7). In elaborating on this thesis Collins discusses several key writings: (1) Daniel 7, (2) 11QMelchizedek, (3) The Simultudes of Enoch, (4) and 4 Ezra 13.
Daniel 7
Here Collins summarizes his views presented elsewhere. The “son of man” (7:13) is the archangel Michael (see Dan. 10–12). The images surrounding the ancient of days and the frightening natural attending him and the son of man’s coming represent “old mythic traditions that derive from pre-Israelite, Canaanite roots.” Collins seems to endorse the scholarly view that the “one like a son of man” was not “originally meant to be identified with the messiah.”
11 QMelchizedek
This text, part of the Melchizedek scroll found in Qumran, bears witness to a deliverer figure and thus captures Collins’s attention. The scroll brings together various passages from the OT in midrashic form. Most interesting is one particular point where the reconstructed text has been rendered “Your god is Melchizedek.” Collins admits that this is a “bold reconstruction” but finds support for it in the fact that “Melchizedek had already been identified with the Elohim, or God, of Psalm 82.” Collins argues that in this scroll Melchizedek appears as an angelic figure. At the same time, he is “the paradigmatic priest-king.” The relevance of this work for the present book’s purposes is, according to Collins, that it “shows the growing interest in imagining a savior figure who was divine in some sense, while clearly subordinate to the Most High, and the attempt to ground such a figure in innovative interpretation of traditional texts.”
Daniel 7
Here Collins summarizes his views presented elsewhere. The “son of man” (7:13) is the archangel Michael (see Dan. 10–12). The images surrounding the ancient of days and the frightening natural attending him and the son of man’s coming represent “old mythic traditions that derive from pre-Israelite, Canaanite roots.” Collins seems to endorse the scholarly view that the “one like a son of man” was not “originally meant to be identified with the messiah.”
11 QMelchizedek
This text, part of the Melchizedek scroll found in Qumran, bears witness to a deliverer figure and thus captures Collins’s attention. The scroll brings together various passages from the OT in midrashic form. Most interesting is one particular point where the reconstructed text has been rendered “Your god is Melchizedek.” Collins admits that this is a “bold reconstruction” but finds support for it in the fact that “Melchizedek had already been identified with the Elohim, or God, of Psalm 82.” Collins argues that in this scroll Melchizedek appears as an angelic figure. At the same time, he is “the paradigmatic priest-king.” The relevance of this work for the present book’s purposes is, according to Collins, that it “shows the growing interest in imagining a savior figure who was divine in some sense, while clearly subordinate to the Most High, and the attempt to ground such a figure in innovative interpretation of traditional texts.”
4.14.2009
Nuclear Forebodings
Here's an interesting article, "No Nukes," by Steve Coll in The New Yorker. Ever since his Ghost Wars, I've been a big fan.
Jewish Associations
In an interesting article in the Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism, David Instone-Brewer and Philip Harland tackel the issue of "Jewish Associations in Roman Palestine." It is well established that across the Greco-Roman world there existed associations, organized around such identity markers as occupation, geographical region (of residence or of origin), ethnicity, etc. The members of these associations would typically celebrate their membership with meals and, oftentimes, drinking parties that followed. Brewer and Harland point out that each of these associations would invariably perform their activities in honor of a particular god(s), so it is unhelpful to designate a religious grouping as a separate type of association.
To this point, however, little attention has been devoted to studying the extent to which Jews in Palestine (Roman-occupied, of course) themselves congregated together as associations. It is well known that they did elsewhere throughout the Mediterranean world. (In fact, "in many cases and in several respects, Jewish gatherings or synagogues would be viewed as associations . . . by their neighbours and by any local or imperial authorities, and may have often understood themselves as such.") But what of closer to home? Brewer and Harland argue on the basis of Mishnah passages which detail particular customs that must be observed in group dining arrangements that Jews in fact did form relations according to the common (Greco-Roman) custom of associations.
About Greco-Roman Associations
--They tended to be small gatherings of b/w 15 to 30 members
--Would gather together for meals and drinking parties
--Was common to gather on the occasion of a festival for a god or goddess
The authors of this article argue against traditional scholarly positions that most associations experienced little or no interference from the Roman authorities. This goes for those Jewish associations in Palestine, as well. Rather than employing an empire-wide policy governing the establishment, proliferation, and day-to-day operation of associations, Roman officials tended to deal with individual assocations on an ad hoc basis. Some associations, for example, would try to curry favor with a particular official and in turn might win special recognition from Rome as well as attendant privliges
Brewer and Harland's discussion of the Mishnaic evidence is interesting. They argue that the the rabbis used the term chavurah to mean "association," and this encompassed meeting "for a Passover meal, . . . a peace offering on a high festival day . . . , orfor unspecified ceremonial meals . . . , including ones on a Sabbath." In short, the rabbis were applying the Greco-Roman concept of associations to the observance of their own particular holy days and festivals. Without going into detail about all the rules the rabbis laid down for proper associational gatherings, they did put a high premium(among other things) on separation, as when various associations were meeting in the same hall, and membership and registration, which Brewer and Harland hypothesize received its initial importance from desire by Roman authorities to know who was involved in various--potentially revolutionary--groups.
One last point of interest. Brewer and Harland note that the rabbis in the Mishnah specified that in the eating of the various festival or holy meals members must situate themselves in a reclining positions. The archaeological and literary evidence of the Greco-Roman world attests to the existence and use of triclinia (triclinium, sing.), or C-shaped "couches." The Jews, perhaps, also made use of these. The would allow for members to face inward toward the food placed on a table in the center and thus not be contaminated through interaction with other associational groups using the same hall. Anyhow, lying down while eating--as we see that Jesus and his disciples did during the Passover feast--was to be the proper position of reverance and respect. However, the Jews likely picked up this custom from their Greco-Roman environment rather than inheriting it from their ancestors (though the authors note that the rich among the Jews had likely emulated this for centuries). In fact, as Brewer and Harland note, earlier in their tradition, the prophet Amos had railed against reclining thus at dinners, probably because it suggested undue opulence and mimickry of unrighteous foreign neighbors.
4.09.2009
King and Messiah as Son of God, Chapter 3, part 2
Ok, it's been a while. Let's pick up again with King and Messiah as Son of God. I'm realizing that reviews/summaries should be written as soon as possible after reading the works to which they correspond. Next time I'll do that and hopefully save myself some rereading.
Turning to the Septuagint in his investigation of the portrayal of messiah in the Hellenistic Period, Collins asks whether “the translators ever enhance the claims of the king/messiah to divine status, or show influence from the Hellenistic cults?” Little evidence from the Pentateuch would seem to support such a judgment, but Collins maintains that the LXX renderings of the Psalms and prophets provide suggestive evidence.
LXX
Psalms 45. Collins concludes that the translator was not importing into this psalm a notion of the king’s divinity. Rather, when it comes both to (1) addressing the king as “God” in verse 6 and (2) and offering the psalm to Agapeitos—a word “used for . . . ‘only begotten,’ in Genesis 22 and elsewhere”—the translator is likely faithfully reproducing the original meaning of the Hebrew. What this may show us in both instances is that the translator, perhaps because of the “influence of the Hellenistic ruler cults,” was not uncomfortable with the attribution of divinity to the king.
Psalm 110 (LXX 109). Again, Collins points out the LXX translator’s lack discomfort translating the Hebrew word into Greek as “I have begotten you” (see LXX 109:3). He also finds significant the alteration of “holy,” singular in the Hebrew, to “holy ones,” plural in the LXX, and suggests that it represents an attempt to associate the messiah with angelic beings, similar to the “depiction of Melchizedek . . . as a heavenly being in the Melchizedek scroll from Qumran.”
Psalm 72:17 (LXX 71:7). Following Volz, Collins suggests that the neutral Greek (LXX) rendering of the Hebrew term meaning “before the sun” should be taken in a temporal sense, implying “the preexistence of the name of the messiah.” The original Hebrew, though not often taken this way, at least allows this interpretation as well.
Isaiah 7:14, 9:6. Though he clearly believes the child mentions in Isa 7:14 was the offspring of the king or a prophet, meaning that his mother was not a “virgin” in the modern sense of the word, Collins nonetheless finds it striking that the LXX translator uses the word parthenos to render the Hebrew word often translated as “virgin.” Though even parthenos does not necessarily imply a woman who has not had sexual relations, it is not the word usually employed to translate the word we find in the Hebrew version of this verse. I’m guessing here that Collins is merely proposing that the translator was ascribing a miraculous significance to the woman and her giving birth. In the latter part of the prophecy, the translator renders “mighty God” as either “messenger” or “angel” of great counsel. Collins opts for the latter and suggests that “this is not so much a demotion as a clarification of his [the messiah’s] status in relation to the Most High.”
The Dead Sea Scrolls
Collins draws attention to the so-called “Son of God” text from Qumran. In 4Q246 there appears “a figure who is called ‘son of God’ and ‘son of the Most High,’ using Aramaic phrases that correspond exactly to the Greek titles given to Jesus in the Gospel of Luke 1:32–35.” Though some argue that this reference is in fact a negative one, that is, describing a personage inimical to the community at Qumran, Collins concludes that “4Q246 is most plausibly interpreted as referring to a Jewish messiah,” arguing sensibly that “Luke would hardly have used the Palestinian Jewish titles with reference to the messiah if they were primarily associated negatively with a Syrian king [as is suggested by some].” Collins finds in this text many analogies to Daniel and is thus tempted to draw parallels between this “son of God” figure and the “one like a son of man” in the earlier work, but expresses caution on this front, as there are many differences as well—not least of which is that the vision is “that of a king rather than of a visionary like Daniel.”
Collins concludes this chapter with the reminder that “more important than the putative influence of the ruler cults [on the conceptualization of messiah] is the tendency that we have noted in a few passages in the LXX to attribute to the messiah preexistence and angelic status.”
2.27.2009
Friday is for Potential Hostilities and Baseball
Here's happy news for those of you feeling nostalgic for the Cold War.
Gotta love the Red Sox Japanese connection. Saito pitched yesterday and didn't look all that bad.
2.24.2009
Plutarch on Writing Biographies
"I am writing biography not history, and the truth is that the most brilliant exploits often tell us nothing of the virtues or vices of the men who performed them, while on the other hand a chance remark or a joke may reveal far more of a man's character than the mere feat of winning battles in which thousands fall, or of marshalling great armies, or laying siege to cities."
"When a portrait painter sets out to create a likeness, he relies above all upon the face and the expression of the eyes and pays less attention to the other parts of the body: in the same way it is my task to dwell upon those actions which illuminate the workings of the soul, and by this means to create a portrait of each man's life. I leave the story of his greatest struggles and achievements to be told by others."
Plutarch, Alexander
2.23.2009
Collins, "Messiah and Son of God in the Hellenistic Period," part 1
In Chapter 3 of King and Messiah as Son of God, John Collins turns to a consideratio of "Messiah and Son of God in the Hellenistic Period." Upon his death Alexander's empire was split into two branches, as is well known, divvied up by the late Macedonian's generals. During his lifetime, Alexander had "demanded proskynesis, the Persian form of obeisance, which was offensive to many Greeks"; the emergent Ptolemaic and Seleucid empires developed their own unique ways of projecting divinity upon their rulers.
Collins contends that the Ptolemaic empire, headquarted in Egypt, managed to combine "Greco-Roman and pharaonic traditions" in its idealization of the ruler. Such a ruler assumed the status of divinity based on his position of king as well as the "traditional association of the pharaoh with the sun god and with Horus."
The Seleucid characterization of the ruler, while different, similarly found ways of exalting this figure. Because of their benefactions, "kings were sometimes hailed as divine." Especially noteworthy is the coloring of the genealogy of the king in Seleucid rendering. He is often said to be the direct descendant of god(s). An important qualifier, however, is "that divinity was a status that could be conferred and that stories about divine birth had only a confirmatory role," that is, were only applied retrospectively, after the individual assumed the position of ruler. Collins makes much of this latter point throughout his essays. I wonder, though, how significant this fact really is. Is it that surprising that one doesn't hear or read about the divine status and/or exploits of an individual--even if he were likely to become king--prior to his assuming the mantle of leadership? At that point there is another ruler and it still remains a question who next will be thrust into that role. Political common sense dictated a hesitation I would think. But I digress.
Collins notes that with the rise of the Roman Empire, many of these Hellenistic views of kingship were incorporated into the Imperial cult. Representing an "escalation," though, is the "favorable comparison of the emperor with the Olympian gods." While Jews living under the new Roman rule were more circumspect in their adulation of the emperor, it is interesting that the luminary Hellenistic Jew Philo, in his reflection, still felt it appropriate that gentiles accord the dominant ruler of the Mediterranean world "divine honors." Did Jewish views about the messiah in any way mirror the more general Greco-Roman ideas about the emperor?
We'll see when we next look at Collins' assessment of Jewish messianic speculation in the Septuagint and the Dead Sea Scrolls.
2.12.2009
Thursday Tidbits
The Times reports on Pakistan's admissions regarding the Mumbai attacks here. Let's hope that Pakistan's cooperation is indeed that and not mere machinations designed merely to soothe international concerns and protect members of the ISS or military.
In other news, Haaretz details a discovery of coins from the Second Temple Period here. From the article:
"In ancient times, the inhabitants of the Land of Israel and its environs would raise pigeons in underground caves. Called "columbariums," the caves had small niches, in which the birds laid their eggs. Over the years many columbariums have been unearthed at ancient sites around the country, particularly at those containing finds from the Second Temple period. A few days ago, archaeologists made a most surprising find at the bottom of such a columbarium, at a site at Kibbutz Ramat Rachel near Jerusalem - a hoard of coins from the time of the destruction of the Second Temple (70 C.E.)."
Michael Bird touches on a couple interesting topics: (1) The Fall of Man and the Foundations of Science and (2) scholar R.T. France's thoughts on Inerrancy and N.T. Exegesis (with attention to 1 Cor. 10:4).
Finally, I thought I would mention this post by Duane Watson on the confusion between beer and urine, since I plan to sample some (the former) tonight.
In other news, Haaretz details a discovery of coins from the Second Temple Period here. From the article:
"In ancient times, the inhabitants of the Land of Israel and its environs would raise pigeons in underground caves. Called "columbariums," the caves had small niches, in which the birds laid their eggs. Over the years many columbariums have been unearthed at ancient sites around the country, particularly at those containing finds from the Second Temple period. A few days ago, archaeologists made a most surprising find at the bottom of such a columbarium, at a site at Kibbutz Ramat Rachel near Jerusalem - a hoard of coins from the time of the destruction of the Second Temple (70 C.E.)."
Michael Bird touches on a couple interesting topics: (1) The Fall of Man and the Foundations of Science and (2) scholar R.T. France's thoughts on Inerrancy and N.T. Exegesis (with attention to 1 Cor. 10:4).
Finally, I thought I would mention this post by Duane Watson on the confusion between beer and urine, since I plan to sample some (the former) tonight.
2.10.2009
King and Messiah as Son of God, Chapter 1, Part 2
Psalms 2 and 110 are key to the discussion of divine kingship in the Old Testament.
Psalm 2
Psalm 2:6–7 reads “But as for me, I have installed my king upon Zion, my holy mountain. I will surely tell of the decrees of the Lord: He said to me, ‘You are my son, today I have begotten you.”
Against some who argue that this first Psalm—because of its alleged Aramaisms and its vision of universal kingship—reflects a post-exilic origin, Collins believes that it has a “far more plausible Sitz in Leben in the period of the monarchy, in the context of an enthronement ceremony.” Along with some others, he sees in the Psalm combined “Egyptian and Assyrian influences.” The language of begetting resembles that found in Egyptian texts, though this does not mean direct Egyptian influence, but perhaps suggests that pre-Israelite Jerusalem was so influenced. Later, Israelite enthronement rituals became an indirect beneficiary.
[Collins draws an interesting parallel here to Isaiah 9. He references Von Rad’s suggestion that the chapter celebrates Hezekiah’s enthronement not the birth of a baby, despite the Hebrew word generally translated as “give birth or beget.” Collins thinks that Von Rad’s argument has weight in that Psalm 2 and Psalm 45:6 (“Your throne, O God, endures forever”) demonstrate that “the king could be addressed as elohim, “god.” Collins conclusion follows:
It seems very likely that the Jerusalemite enthronement ritual was influenced, even if only indirectly, by Egyptian ideas of kingship. At least as a matter of court rhetoric, the king was declared to be the son of God, and could be called an elohim, a god.
Psalm 110
Psalm 110:1 “The Lord says to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet”
Psalm 110:4 “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, “You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.”
Collins suggests that this psalm provides a link to Assyrian influence—“mediated through Canaanite traditions—in its meditation on the status of the king. “Kingship and priesthood were associated in Assyrian tradition, where the king had the title shangu, a term related to the provision and maintenance of sanctuaries.”
However, even in this psalm one finds Egyptian ideas, argues Collins. For the “invitation to the king to sit at the right hand of the deity . . . has long been recognized as an Egyptian motif, known from the iconography of the New Kingdom.”
Psalm 110:3 (109:3 in the Greek) is a notoriously corrupt verse. Collins argues it should stand as follows:
In sacred splendor, from the womb, from dawn, you have the dew wherewith I have begotten you.
In this reading “the dew is the means by which the deity has begotten the king, and it infuses him with divine vitality.” While it is not certain that “dew” does approach the same meaning here that it does in Egyptian inscriptions, the “motifs of seating at the right hand and sun-like emergence from the dawn . . . strongly suggest an Egyptian background.”
Collins offers a few important conclusions to his comparative study:
“The status of the king in Jerusalem was not as exalted as that of the pharaoh, and the testimonies to his divine sonship that have been preserved are relatively few. Nonetheless, the language of sonship does have mythical overtones, and clearly claims for the king a status greater than human.”
In “the Hebrew Bible, to say that the king was son of God was to suggest a special relationship to the Most High, but certainly not parity.”
The “main implication of the declaration that the king was son of God is the implication that he is empowered to act as God’s surrogate on earth.”
“The fact that the dominant attitude in biblical tradition insists on a sharp distinction between divinity and humanity, and is sharply critical of kingship makes the preservation of the royal psalms all the more remarkable. It requires that we take them seriously as a witness to preexilic religion, before it was chastened by the harsh historical experiences that led to the demise of the monarchy.”
Psalm 2
Psalm 2:6–7 reads “But as for me, I have installed my king upon Zion, my holy mountain. I will surely tell of the decrees of the Lord: He said to me, ‘You are my son, today I have begotten you.”
Against some who argue that this first Psalm—because of its alleged Aramaisms and its vision of universal kingship—reflects a post-exilic origin, Collins believes that it has a “far more plausible Sitz in Leben in the period of the monarchy, in the context of an enthronement ceremony.” Along with some others, he sees in the Psalm combined “Egyptian and Assyrian influences.” The language of begetting resembles that found in Egyptian texts, though this does not mean direct Egyptian influence, but perhaps suggests that pre-Israelite Jerusalem was so influenced. Later, Israelite enthronement rituals became an indirect beneficiary.
[Collins draws an interesting parallel here to Isaiah 9. He references Von Rad’s suggestion that the chapter celebrates Hezekiah’s enthronement not the birth of a baby, despite the Hebrew word generally translated as “give birth or beget.” Collins thinks that Von Rad’s argument has weight in that Psalm 2 and Psalm 45:6 (“Your throne, O God, endures forever”) demonstrate that “the king could be addressed as elohim, “god.” Collins conclusion follows:
It seems very likely that the Jerusalemite enthronement ritual was influenced, even if only indirectly, by Egyptian ideas of kingship. At least as a matter of court rhetoric, the king was declared to be the son of God, and could be called an elohim, a god.
Psalm 110
Psalm 110:1 “The Lord says to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet”
Psalm 110:4 “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, “You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.”
Collins suggests that this psalm provides a link to Assyrian influence—“mediated through Canaanite traditions—in its meditation on the status of the king. “Kingship and priesthood were associated in Assyrian tradition, where the king had the title shangu, a term related to the provision and maintenance of sanctuaries.”
However, even in this psalm one finds Egyptian ideas, argues Collins. For the “invitation to the king to sit at the right hand of the deity . . . has long been recognized as an Egyptian motif, known from the iconography of the New Kingdom.”
Psalm 110:3 (109:3 in the Greek) is a notoriously corrupt verse. Collins argues it should stand as follows:
In sacred splendor, from the womb, from dawn, you have the dew wherewith I have begotten you.
In this reading “the dew is the means by which the deity has begotten the king, and it infuses him with divine vitality.” While it is not certain that “dew” does approach the same meaning here that it does in Egyptian inscriptions, the “motifs of seating at the right hand and sun-like emergence from the dawn . . . strongly suggest an Egyptian background.”
Collins offers a few important conclusions to his comparative study:
“The status of the king in Jerusalem was not as exalted as that of the pharaoh, and the testimonies to his divine sonship that have been preserved are relatively few. Nonetheless, the language of sonship does have mythical overtones, and clearly claims for the king a status greater than human.”
In “the Hebrew Bible, to say that the king was son of God was to suggest a special relationship to the Most High, but certainly not parity.”
The “main implication of the declaration that the king was son of God is the implication that he is empowered to act as God’s surrogate on earth.”
“The fact that the dominant attitude in biblical tradition insists on a sharp distinction between divinity and humanity, and is sharply critical of kingship makes the preservation of the royal psalms all the more remarkable. It requires that we take them seriously as a witness to preexilic religion, before it was chastened by the harsh historical experiences that led to the demise of the monarchy.”
2.09.2009
Harmony
In an interesting article a number of years back ("The Homonoia Coins of Asia Minor and Ephesians 1:21"), John Paul Lotz makes an argument for reading Ephesians 1:21 against the backdrop of inter–city(-state) politics in the developing Greco-Roman world. Speaking of Christ in this verse, Paul indicates that God has seated him “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.” Is this polemical proposition that by God’s having raised him from the dead, Christ receives a status far superior to earthly rulers (i.e., the emperor) and has the power and title (i.e., name) to prove it?
Lotz points out that with their own sense of autonomy and military might waning as a result of internal warring coupled with the ascension of Rome, city-states of Asia Minor struggled to find new ways to assert their influence over and against one other. An important realm in which they competed was the cultic/religious one. For example, as the cult of the emperor took rise in the provinces—interestingly enough, in a more full-blown way than in Rome itself—the once powerful city-states grasped hold of its introduction as a means by which to curry special favor with the ruling power of the day and to outpace other cities competing for influence. Sometimes this was accomplished by obtaining from Rome the honor of building a temple for the furtherance of the imperial cult. Titles were appropriated by cities upon their establishment and/or stewardship of a particular cult (witness Ephesus’s claim to hosting the great temple of Artemis), such as the imperial cult. According to Lotz, having “the imperial cult temple and being able to list among one’s titles . . . [Neokoros] was a key factor in securing the highly prestigious title . . . [First of Asia].”Once accomplished, other city-states were obliged to recognize that this or that particular city-state (e.g., Pergamum, Ephesus) was so honored
Why is this bit of information important? Because, as Lotz illustrates, such competition reveals the tense state of affairs between rival cities in Asia Minor that prevailed under the so-called Pax Romana. That there really was festering conflict and a high state of rivalry at work helps explain, in turn, the concerted effort to foster “harmony” (homonoia) throughout the empire. Literary (Lotz draws special attention to Plutarch, Dio Chrysostom, and Aristides), inscriptional, and numismatic evidence from the first few centuries of the Common Era bear witness to a heightened glorification of this quality. “Harmony” is personified on coins as well as commemorative monuments as a way of establishing the political prerequisite for peaceful co-existence and, as a goddess, even becomes the recipient of cultic devotion.
Was the apostle Paul speaking into this atmosphere of rivalry when he wrote of the risen Christ that he is above all rule and has attained the highest name/titles for himself? Lotz thinks so. Ephesians has a lot to do with bringing rival elements of Christian society—Jew and Gentile—together. Just perhaps Paul is arguing that Christ, the highest power of all—not Caesar—is alone able to unite warring parties. Only he can accomplish true harmony. Seems like a relevant message for today, huh?
Lotz points out that with their own sense of autonomy and military might waning as a result of internal warring coupled with the ascension of Rome, city-states of Asia Minor struggled to find new ways to assert their influence over and against one other. An important realm in which they competed was the cultic/religious one. For example, as the cult of the emperor took rise in the provinces—interestingly enough, in a more full-blown way than in Rome itself—the once powerful city-states grasped hold of its introduction as a means by which to curry special favor with the ruling power of the day and to outpace other cities competing for influence. Sometimes this was accomplished by obtaining from Rome the honor of building a temple for the furtherance of the imperial cult. Titles were appropriated by cities upon their establishment and/or stewardship of a particular cult (witness Ephesus’s claim to hosting the great temple of Artemis), such as the imperial cult. According to Lotz, having “the imperial cult temple and being able to list among one’s titles . . . [Neokoros] was a key factor in securing the highly prestigious title . . . [First of Asia].”Once accomplished, other city-states were obliged to recognize that this or that particular city-state (e.g., Pergamum, Ephesus) was so honored
Why is this bit of information important? Because, as Lotz illustrates, such competition reveals the tense state of affairs between rival cities in Asia Minor that prevailed under the so-called Pax Romana. That there really was festering conflict and a high state of rivalry at work helps explain, in turn, the concerted effort to foster “harmony” (homonoia) throughout the empire. Literary (Lotz draws special attention to Plutarch, Dio Chrysostom, and Aristides), inscriptional, and numismatic evidence from the first few centuries of the Common Era bear witness to a heightened glorification of this quality. “Harmony” is personified on coins as well as commemorative monuments as a way of establishing the political prerequisite for peaceful co-existence and, as a goddess, even becomes the recipient of cultic devotion.
Was the apostle Paul speaking into this atmosphere of rivalry when he wrote of the risen Christ that he is above all rule and has attained the highest name/titles for himself? Lotz thinks so. Ephesians has a lot to do with bringing rival elements of Christian society—Jew and Gentile—together. Just perhaps Paul is arguing that Christ, the highest power of all—not Caesar—is alone able to unite warring parties. Only he can accomplish true harmony. Seems like a relevant message for today, huh?
2.06.2009
King and Messiah as Son of God, Chapter 1, Part 1
In the first chapter of King and Messiah as Son of God, John J. Collins tackles the fundamental topic, “The King as Son of God.” He begins this chapter by reminding readers that the transliterated messiah comes from a Hebrew word that “means simply ‘anointed’ and is not used in the Hebrew bible in an eschatological sense.” Collins then frames his discussion in terms of the ongoing debate concerning whether biblical references in the Psalms and elsewhere to the king as “son of God” represent an indebtedness to Egyptian belief in the ruler’s divinity or rather reflect a metaphorical acknowledgment of God’s appointment of the king.
Before examining views of the king in Ancient Judah, Collins analyzes evidence from other ancient societies which shed light on how kings were portrayed in relation to the divine.
Egypt
To portray the Pharaoh’s ascension, some Egyptian texts use terms like “dew” or “fragrance” to conjure up images of sexual intercourse. The following exchanges refer to the god Amon-Re and the Egyptian Queen Hatshepsut (ca. 1479–1458 BCE):
Utterance of Amon-Re, lord of Thebes, presider over Karnak: “He made his form like the majesty of this husband . . . he found her as she slept . . . he imposed his desire on her, he caused that she should see him in his form as a god.”
Utterance by the king’s wife and king’s mother Ahmose in the presence of the majesty of this august god, Amon, Lord of Thebes: “How great is thy fame! It is splendid to see they front; thou hast united my majesty with thy favors, thy dew is in all my limbs.” After this, the majesty of the god did all he desired with her.
Even when such graphic imagery is absent, it is quite common to find in Egyptian texts the language or idea of begetting. There is, according to Collins, some real sense in which Egyptian rulers were projected as the offspring of the gods.
Collins cautions, however, against on over literal reimagining of actual Egyptian beliefs, asserting that it “may be that ancient Egyptians were more conscious of the metaphorical character of such language than modern scholars have often assumed.” It seems that the factor which is most important in granting divine status is the office of king (i.e., pharaoh), such that it is only upon becoming king that the ruler is then portrayed—retrospectively—as born of gods. Despite this caveat, Collins concludes that “there is no doubt that the claims of the pharaoh to divine status were taken seriously in ancient Egypt, in the sense that he was not regarded as an ordinary mortal.”
Ancient Mesopotamia
Divine kingship as belief was less common in ancient Mesopotamia. It did, however, persist for a short span under the rule of Naram-Sin “at the end of the third millennium in ancient Sumer.” Again at points during the Neo-Assyrian periods there is the representation of the king “as a son of a god,” though the language is less explicit than the Egyptian inscriptions in blatantly calling the king a god. Nonetheless, “the divine-like character of the Assyrian king is meant to be taken seriously.”
Ancient Canaan
Little evidence exists from Canaanite sources to draw a direct parallel to the Egyptian deification of the king. Collins does note that in “the Ugaritic king list, each of the names of the dead kings are preceded by the word il, “god,” but recognizes not much can be drawn from this title. In facts, dead kings were not deified but dwelt in the underworld, even if among more respected company. Collins speculates that “Egyptian conceptions of monarchy were mediated to Israel through ancient Canaan, which had been under Egyptian control for much of the second millennium B.C.E.”
Before examining views of the king in Ancient Judah, Collins analyzes evidence from other ancient societies which shed light on how kings were portrayed in relation to the divine.
Egypt
To portray the Pharaoh’s ascension, some Egyptian texts use terms like “dew” or “fragrance” to conjure up images of sexual intercourse. The following exchanges refer to the god Amon-Re and the Egyptian Queen Hatshepsut (ca. 1479–1458 BCE):
Utterance of Amon-Re, lord of Thebes, presider over Karnak: “He made his form like the majesty of this husband . . . he found her as she slept . . . he imposed his desire on her, he caused that she should see him in his form as a god.”
Utterance by the king’s wife and king’s mother Ahmose in the presence of the majesty of this august god, Amon, Lord of Thebes: “How great is thy fame! It is splendid to see they front; thou hast united my majesty with thy favors, thy dew is in all my limbs.” After this, the majesty of the god did all he desired with her.
Even when such graphic imagery is absent, it is quite common to find in Egyptian texts the language or idea of begetting. There is, according to Collins, some real sense in which Egyptian rulers were projected as the offspring of the gods.
Collins cautions, however, against on over literal reimagining of actual Egyptian beliefs, asserting that it “may be that ancient Egyptians were more conscious of the metaphorical character of such language than modern scholars have often assumed.” It seems that the factor which is most important in granting divine status is the office of king (i.e., pharaoh), such that it is only upon becoming king that the ruler is then portrayed—retrospectively—as born of gods. Despite this caveat, Collins concludes that “there is no doubt that the claims of the pharaoh to divine status were taken seriously in ancient Egypt, in the sense that he was not regarded as an ordinary mortal.”
Ancient Mesopotamia
Divine kingship as belief was less common in ancient Mesopotamia. It did, however, persist for a short span under the rule of Naram-Sin “at the end of the third millennium in ancient Sumer.” Again at points during the Neo-Assyrian periods there is the representation of the king “as a son of a god,” though the language is less explicit than the Egyptian inscriptions in blatantly calling the king a god. Nonetheless, “the divine-like character of the Assyrian king is meant to be taken seriously.”
Ancient Canaan
Little evidence exists from Canaanite sources to draw a direct parallel to the Egyptian deification of the king. Collins does note that in “the Ugaritic king list, each of the names of the dead kings are preceded by the word il, “god,” but recognizes not much can be drawn from this title. In facts, dead kings were not deified but dwelt in the underworld, even if among more respected company. Collins speculates that “Egyptian conceptions of monarchy were mediated to Israel through ancient Canaan, which had been under Egyptian control for much of the second millennium B.C.E.”
2.05.2009
Iraq as the Model?
Daveed Gartenstein-Ross and Joshua D. Goodman report on a possible new strategy, inspired by a movement in Iraq, soon to be implemented in Afghanistan. Read their article, "How to Export an Awakening."
2.04.2009
2.02.2009
Envoys, Part 3
Margaret Mitchell’s analysis of the role of envoys in the Greco-Roman of Paul’s day reveals yet another important insight. The envoy served two masters, so to speak, acting on behalf of the one who sent him in delivering a message and for the recipient(s) in conveying a response. “In his commissioning formulas,” Mitchell suggests, “Paul shows himself sensitive to the double-sided role of the envoy, who has some relationship with both Paul and the church in question.”
We see how in Philippians, for example, Epaphroditus is called both “my brother and fellow laborer and comrade-in-arms” and “your messenger and servant of my need” (Phil. 2:25). That the envoy is more than just a substitute for the sender is seen even here, where what seems most essential is that the individual has a close and abiding relationship with both parties. As Paul’s call in Philippians is to a unity of mind and heart in service of the gospel, the role of the envoy serves a rhetorical purpose by binding together apostle and church as co-participants in this very mission.
We see how in Philippians, for example, Epaphroditus is called both “my brother and fellow laborer and comrade-in-arms” and “your messenger and servant of my need” (Phil. 2:25). That the envoy is more than just a substitute for the sender is seen even here, where what seems most essential is that the individual has a close and abiding relationship with both parties. As Paul’s call in Philippians is to a unity of mind and heart in service of the gospel, the role of the envoy serves a rhetorical purpose by binding together apostle and church as co-participants in this very mission.
E.P. Sanders
Mark Goodacre links to this "academic autobiography" of E.P. Sanders, a pioneering figure in the field of biblical studies. I found it a fascinating read. More than any other Sanders popularized the terminology covenantal nomism, the notion that Jews of Paul's day understood themselves as "in" because of God's election and, once in, as responsible to keep God's laws. The implication of this view is that Judaism was not characterized by a legalistic mindset that put a premium on works as a way to earn God's favor in the first place. In this paper Sanders discusses his influences as well as the process by which he reached his conclusions. (HT)
Is Inerrancy Inerrant?
Michael Bird offers a few responses to Greg Beale's discussion of the erosion of biblical inerrancy here. One of Bird's key concerns is that an "a priori theological deduction about Scripture always trumps the phenomena of Scripture in formulating a doctrine of Scripture." Read the post here.
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