Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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Archives for September 2019

When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 5: Patience

September 30, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction |  Part 2: Description | Part 3: Compassion | Part 4: Grace

God’s primary description of himself begins with his compassion, and then his grace. Next is the phrase “slow to anger” (Ex 34.6). The KJV renders that as “longsuffering”; the God’s Word translation says “patient.”

The Hebrew phrase is picturesque; the two words literally mean “long of nostrils.” That is to say, it takes a long time for God’s nose to turn red with anger.

The phrase occurs 13 times in the Hebrew Bible. Moses uses it twice (Ex 34.6; Num 14.18) to describe God’s character. Four prophets—Jeremiah (Jer 15.15), Joel (Joel 2.13), Jonah (Jon 4.2), and Nahum (Na 1.3)—use it similarly. David makes the same statement 3 times (Ps 86.15; 103.8; 145.8), and Nehemiah closes out the Hebrew Scripture’s emphasis on the concept (Neh 9.17).

That’s 10 statements about God’s slowness to anger. (I’ll say more about the other 3 occurrences of the phrase in a bit.) If the Bible says something just once, we ought to take notice. But 10 times? That’s emphasis. God really wants us to see him as slow to anger.

That’s not the picture many of us have of God, especially of “the God of the Old Testament.” Oh, he’s a mean one, he is. He gets angry and strikes people dead. Korah, the rebel against Moses (Num 16.32)—but then, I suppose he deserved it. But what about Uzzah, the poor fellow just following David’s orders to take the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem for installation at the worship center there? The ox stumbled, and the wagon tilted, and Uzzah, just trying to protect the precious ark, reached out to steady it, and ZAP!—he’s dead (2Sa 6.7).

Looks a lot like God lost his temper and lashed out at somebody who was just trying to do what he was supposed to, right?

No.

Never.

We tend to get our ideas of God from our fathers. We remember when we were little, and we did something that made Dad mad, maybe without intending to, and he descended on us like Nebuchadnezzar on Jerusalem, and in a burst of anger he put us into a world of hurt for a few minutes. He just lost it, and it took him a while to cool down.

And then we overlay that personal experience on the Uzzah event, and we figure that God just lost it and lashed out, because that’s the way things go.

No.

God is our Father, but he is not our father. Your father, and mine, were fallen human beings, just like us—in fact we’re fallen because they were fallen. For most of us, our fathers did the best they could, but sometimes they failed.

God our Father is not like that, and it’s deeply unfair to impose our fathers’ failures on him.

He’s long of nostrils. He never “loses” his temper or “falls” into a rage. When he’s angry—and he often is, since he is “angry with the wicked every day” (Ps 7.11)—that anger has been building for a long time, and it is absolutely and perfectly justified. In the case of Uzzah, God was not surprised when he reached out to steady the ark. He had seen it coming literally forever. Uzzah, an Israelite man, knew better; he knew the Law, as all Israelite men did. He was not innocent. It’s surprising, frankly, that he was so far down the road to Jerusalem, in direct disobedience to God’s clear instructions about how the ark should be handled, before God struck him.

So no, God doesn’t lose his temper. He doesn’t fly into rage over the kinds of things that we do. He controls his anger perfectly and long, exercising it only purposefully and rightly and justly. He tolerated the vile sins of the Canaanites for 4 centuries (Gen 15.16)—during which time, apparently, they had warnings from priests of the Most High God (Gen 14.18)—before moving against them. He withheld judgment on millennia of human rebellion and violence and hate (Ac 17.30) before pouring out his wrath—and when he released that wrath, he did so with a precise surgical strike, focused perfectly on his willing Son, with absolutely no collateral damage (Rom 3.21-26).

You’ve made God angry, consistently and repeatedly. And yet you continue to enjoy his abundant grace with every breath. That’s the kind of person he is.

Now for those other 3 uses of the phrase. They’re about us. David’s son Solomon applies the “long nostrils” principle to people, noting that those who imitate God in this way are wise (Prov 14.29), peaceable (Prov 15.18), and powerful (Prov 16.32).

Reflexive anger is godless. Lashing out is hellish.

So don’t react to an infuriating meme with a “like and share if you want to make Nancy Pelosi lose her mind.”

Part 6: Loyal Love | Part 7: Faithfulness | Part 8: Forgiveness | Part 9: Justice & Mercy | Part 10: Relenting

Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 4: Grace

September 26, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction |  Part 2: Description | Part 3: Compassion

In his foundational self-description, the first thing God tells us about himself is that he’s compassionate. By nature, he feels deeply for the hurts and trials of his creatures—even the animals (Jon 4.11), but most especially those in his image.

He cares.

The second thing he tells us is that he’s “gracious” (Ex 34.6). We tell one another that he is, too; one of our most common names, John (and Jean or Joan or Johanna for women), comes from the Hebrew Johanan, short for Jehohanan, which means simply “Yahweh / Jehovah is gracious.” It’s same word used in all those OT refrains.

This isn’t the first time God has told us this about himself. The word occurs earlier in the Law, in Exodus 22.27, where God tells Moses that if a man’s clothing is illegitimately taken from him, and the man cries to God for help, “I will hear; for I am gracious.” The word occurs 12 more times in the Old Testament, and in every occurrence it’s describing the character of God. No other being is said to have this specific quality.

So what is it? What does the word mean?

In Exodus 22.27 it sounds a lot like compassion; a poor man is in desperate need, and God hears his cry. But I think it’s a step beyond compassion. Compassion is feeling strongly about a situation; it’s caring. Grace, on the other hand, is getting up and doing something about it. It’s intervening on behalf of those in need.

And since we’re all in need, being gracious is a commitment to actions of infinite scope and complexity. It’s a really big deal.

But there’s more. Since we’re all sinners, rebels against God, we really don’t deserve his intervention on our behalf. After all, we’ve declared ourselves to be his enemies.

And that means, in turn, that God gives us things, and does things for us, that we don’t deserve.

Now that’s grace.

I’ve posted before on the immensity and breadth and depth of God’s grace. These things ought to be at the forefront of our thinking; and I’ve noticed that people who reflexively think that way—gratefully—tend to approach the exigencies of life with considerably more confidence and even joy. The truth will do that for a person.

I suspect that some of you are thinking about my observation that in the Scripture only God is said to be gracious. Maybe that means we aren’t expected to be? Maybe we don’t have to give people things they don’t deserve?

Not so fast. For starters, we’re in the image of God (Gen 1.27), and we’re undergoing a process—sanctification—that’s designed to refine that image in us as we become more like Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit (2Co 3.18). So if God is fundamentally gracious, then we ought to seek to be as well.

Further, the Scripture gives us things to do that are gracious at the root. Jesus told us that the second great commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mt 22.39)—and Jesus surely knows that our neighbors aren’t deserving of that. And he told us to love our enemies, even those who abuse and mistreat us. Walking the second mile, giving our coat, and all that (Mt 5.38-48).

We’re supposed to give people around us—our neighbors—what they don’t deserve. That’s what grace is all about.

I’ve grown up in political conservatism—my parents were both employees, for a time, of the John Birch Society—and I’ve noticed that in conservatism there is a certain amount of social Darwinism. Individual responsibility. Your own bootstraps. Get a job, ya lazy bum.

And there’s a lot of truth to that. He who doesn’t work shouldn’t eat. The Bible says that (2Th 3.10). Personal responsibility is a thing.

But there’s also grace. We’re called to help people who don’t deserve or even want help. We’re called to lessen people’s pain, even when they brought it on themselves. We’re called to help the unloving, the hostile, the rebellious—the sponge, the lawbreaker, the entitled.

God has done that for us.

So what about those bums on the other side of the political divide?

Extend a hand. Recognize the image of God in them. Refuse to hate. Give them what they don’t have coming.

Grace.

Part 5: Patience | Part 6: Loyal Love | Part 7: Faithfulness | Part 8: Forgiveness | Part 9: Justice & Mercy | Part 10: Relenting

Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 3: Compassion

September 23, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction |  Part 2: Description

In his primary description of himself, God includes a list of related attributes (Ex 34.6-7):

  • Compassionate
  • Gracious
  • Slow to anger
  • Abounding in lovingkindness
  • Abounding in truth
  • Keeping lovingkindness for thousands
  • Forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin
  • Not leaving the guilty unpunished
  • Visiting the iniquity of fathers upon children

And in the parallel prophetic passages,

  • Relenting of calamity

For easy comparison, I’ve posted a chart of the parallel passages here.

There’s a lot here that calls for investigation, rumination, and careful analysis. God describes himself in ways that emphasize tenderness without the weakness of permissiveness. We’ll take a few posts to cover this list, occasionally combining similar terms for efficiency and clarity.

We begin, as God does, with compassion.

The Hebrew word is closely related to the word for “womb”; it speaks of the intense feeling we get in our midsection when we’re deeply affected emotionally. We speak informally of being “punched in the gut” or “kicked in the stomach” when we received intensely emotional news.

Interestingly, the Gospels speak of Jesus as often feeling this way, of being “moved with compassion.”

  • When he saw the people “as sheep having no shepherd” (Mt 9.36; Mk 6.34)
  • When he saw a large crowd near the Sea of Galilee—whom he was about to feed miraculously (Mt 14.14; Mk 8.2)
  • Similarly just before he later fed the 4000 (Mt 15.32)
  • When he healed Bartimaeus and the other blind man just outside Jericho (Mt 20.34)
  • When he saw the widow of Nain in her son’s funeral procession (Lk 7.13)

Paul, recognizing this characteristic of his Lord, speaks of longing for the Philippians “in the bowels of Jesus Christ” (Php 1.8 KJV).

God, knowing of people’s desperate needs, is moved with compassion for them. It’s part of his character; it simply can’t not happen. I’m tempted to say that he can’t help himself, but that language, taken literally, would imply some limitation on divine self-control—which of course is omnipotent and perfect. So let me say that just as the Bible says that God cannot lie (Ti 1.2)—because, as self-consistent, he cannot and will not violate his own nature—even so he cannot be uncompassionate.

And this characteristic of his takes us to unexpected places. The examples of Jesus’ compassion that I’ve listed above all involve people in great sorrow and need, and we can easily understand that. We like to think that in similar circumstances we too would do what we could to help. I write this post just after buying a tank of gas for a stranger with a sad story so he could get home.

[Sidebar: Sure, maybe he was lying. In these situations I don’t give cash; I offer to go with them to the gas station, or the restaurant, or the grocery store, or whatever, and buy them what they say they need. The shysters typically refuse and say they need the cash (for drugs, usually). This guy went with me and let me gas up his truck. So it looked legit to me.]

But keep in mind that Jesus knew what was in people’s hearts (Jn 2.25). He knew that the widow of Nain was a sinner. He knew that a lot of those 5000 and 4000 people were just following him to see him do tricks—and after he fed them, for the food (Jn 6.26). As he wept over Jerusalem, he knew that its inhabitants “killed the prophets, and stoned them who are sent to you!” (Mt 23.37; Lk 13.34).

And so it shouldn’t be surprising to us when we find God going to considerable trouble to compel a recalcitrant prophet to go on a journey of 500 miles to tell people he hated that God was going to judge them—not because he was going to judge them (though he eventually would, as Nahum records)—but because he knew that the prophet’s angry message would scare the dickens out of them and would result in their genuine repentance.

This compassionate God comes to Jonah, sulking on the hillside after the Ninevites’ repentance and consequent deliverance, and rebukes him from his own heart: “Should I not have compassion on Nineveh, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know the difference between their right and left hand [i.e. babies], as well as many animals?” (Jon 4.11).

This is how you treat people you hate.

Indeed, this is how you feel about them.

Part 4: Grace | Part 5: Patience | Part 6: Loyal Love | Part 7: Faithfulness | Part 8: Forgiveness | Part 9: Justice & Mercy | Part 10: Relenting

Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 2: How God Describes Himself

September 19, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction

As we’ve noted, even Jonah the bigot knew that God had revealed himself as a God of compassion, who extends mercy even to the most wicked, upon their repentance—and who seeks that repentance from them.

When and where did God reveal this?

It begins with Moses.

He had spent more than a month atop Mt. Sinai, in the very presence of Israel’s God (Ex 24.12-18), receiving the stone tablets containing the commandments God had spoken earlier to the people (Ex 20-23; 31.18). At the end of that remarkable experience, God tells him that the people have corrupted themselves by worshiping a golden bull that they believe represents God himself (Ex 32.7-8), and that God intends to wipe them out and start the nation over with Moses (Ex 32.9-10). Moses argues successfully against that policy by countering that God has promised to build the nation on Abraham (Ex 32.11-14). But when he returns to the foot of the mountain (Ex 32.15) and finds the nation in debauchery, he breaks the stone tablets (Ex 32.19), destroys the bull (Ex 32.20), and brings judgment into the camp (Ex 32.25-28).

As the nation prepares to leave Sinai and travel toward the Promised Land (Ex 33), God prepares Moses to receive a second set of tablets to replace the ones Moses has destroyed (Ex 34.1-4). And there, atop the mountain again, Yahweh reveals himself to Moses with characteristics, attributes, that he has not significantly revealed before. He describes himself as

Yahweh, Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; 7 who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations (Ex 34.6-7).

This is quite a list. As I said, it’s new revelation; there’s almost nothing said about these things before this point in Scripture. (I’ll specify the “almost” in later posts.) And it becomes a refrain throughout the rest of God’s revelation of himself; it’s clear that he takes it seriously and views the list as a centrally significant part of his relationship with his people. Further, it’s clear that his people recognize that significance, for they bring it up again and again:

  • When Israel reacts in fear to the inhabitants of the Promised Land (Num 13.32-33), disbelieving God’s sure promise to Abraham and to Isaac and to all Isaac’s descendants since, wishing that they had never left Egypt (Num 14.1-4)—saying that bondslavery to the Egyptians was better than serving God!—Moses again intercedes for them (Num 14.11-16) by quoting God’s self-description back to him (Num 14.17-19), thereby rescuing them once again from obliteration (Num 14.20).
  • David the psalmist rejoices in this self-description of God, 500 years after it was originally spoken, by reciting it and then expanding on it in lyrical meditation (Ps 103.8-14)—more than once (Ps 86.15; 145.8).
  • More than 500 years after David, the chorus rises again, this time from the Jews who have returned from captivity in Babylon. Under Nehemiah’s leadership, they cleanse themselves and the Levitical priesthood, issuing forth in a psalm of praise to God (Neh 9.5-38) that includes the ancient self-description (Neh 9.17)—again, more than once (Neh 9.31-32).
  • The prophets too pick up the refrain; between David and Nehemiah, Joel weaves the refrain into his call for Judah’s repentance (Joel 2.13); and as we’ve noted, in far-off Nineveh Jonah recalls the verse, in frustration and anger over God’s willingness to accept the repentance of the deservedly hated Assyrians (Jon 4.2).

So this is a big deal. God takes it seriously, and so do his people, even when, as in the case of Jonah, they wish it weren’t so.

We might say that this is the core biblical view of the person of God. This is the most direct statement of who he is. It is his essence, his character, his personality.

Well, then. If our whole purpose is to know God—which is a necessary prerequisite to the Greatest Commandment, to love him (Mt 22.35-40)—then we’d better understand it.

That’s worth a few posts, don’t you think?

Part 3: Compassion | Part 4: Grace | Part 5: Patience | Part 6: Loyal Love | Part 7: Faithfulness | Part 8: Forgiveness | Part 9: Justice & Mercy | Part 10: Relenting

Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 1: Introduction

September 16, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We’re polarized.

Yep.

And each side sees the other as the Ultimate Personification of Evil.

They’re bad people, you see. They want to destroy us and all that we hold dear.

No tactic is out of bounds in our desire to destroy them.

It’s war.

Bring it.

There were situations like this in biblical times: existential crises, where God’s people, and all they held dear—or should have held dear—was under assault by those who hated what they stood for, because they hated the God who had chosen them for himself.

The prophets called down God’s judgment on the nation’s enemies, and they didn’t mince words. The list of targets is long. It begins with Israel’s neighbors: Moab (Is 15-16; Jer 48); Edom (Jer 49.7ff; Ezk 25.12-14); Ammon (Jer 49.1-6; Ezk 25); Damascus / Syria (Is 17.1-3; Jer 49.23-27; Amos 1.3-5); Tyre (Is 23). And then it extends to more distant kingdoms that are even more of a threat because of their hegemonous power and reach: Egypt (Is 19; Ezk 29-30); Babylon (Is 13-14, 46; Jer 50-51); and Nineveh / Assyria (Nahum).

Especially Assyria. They’re the worst.

No one in the ancient world, or perhaps since, has exceeded the Assyrians in their gleeful cruelty to their defeated enemies. In Iraq today is the site
of Calah
, the capital city chosen by the Assyrian ruler Ashernasirpal II, who reigned in the early 9th century BC. There in the Temple of Ninurta is inscribed Ashernasirpal’s own official account of his victories:

I stormed the mountain peaks and took them. In the midst of the mighty mountain I slaughtered them; with their blood I dyed the mountain red like wool. … The heads of their warriors I cut off, and I formed them into a pillar over against their city; their young men and their maidens I burned in the fire.

I built a pillar over against the city gate and I flayed all the chiefs who had revolted and I covered the pillar with their skins. Some I impaled upon the pillar on stakes and others I bound to stakes round the pillar. I cut the limbs off the officers who had rebelled. Many captives I burned with fire and many I took as living captives. From some I cut off their noses, their ears, and their fingers, of many I put out their eyes. I made one pillar of the living and another of heads and I bound their heads to tree trunks round about the city. Their young men and maidens I consumed with fire. The rest of their warriors I consumed with thirst in the desert of the Euphrates.

Hulai, their governor, I flayed, and his skin I spread upon the wall of the city.

Scholar Jack Finegan observes that “the quotations just given are typical of many more which can be read in the annals of this king.”

Now those are some seriously evil people. Existentially so.

Why am I telling you all this? What’s the point?

It’s this. It was to this people, this nation, that God sent a prophet to declare judgment.

Well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?

You know the story well. The prophet’s name is Jonah, and after considerable initial reluctance, Jonah finally arrives at Nineveh, the current capital city, and gleefully preaches the announcement of oncoming doom.

And then, in his view, everything goes seriously awry.

Nineveh repents (Jon 3.5). From the king on down (Jon 3.6-8).

Well, this wasn’t the plan. Not in Jonah’s mind, anyway. There’s nothing in Jonah’s message (Jon 3.4), or in God’s instructions to him (Jon 1.1-2; 3.1-2), that offered any hope of repentance. Jonah could easily have argued that repentance was impossible and in any event would not have been accepted.

But the Assyrian king hoped for better things. “Perhaps,” he said, “God may turn and relent and withdraw His burning anger so that we will not perish” (Jon 3.9).

And you know what?

Jonah knew that too. “I knew,” he said to God, in frustration and anger, “that You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness, and one who relents concerning calamity” (Jon 4.2).

And Jonah was not one bit happy. He hated these people. And he had perfectly good reasons to.

Where did Jonah get the idea that God was gracious and compassionate, even to hated people?

God had told his people that. Repeatedly.

Next time we’ll look at what he had told them, and under what circumstances. And then we’ll spend a few posts learning what it all means, for us, and for all those people we hate.

Part 2: Description | Part 3: Compassion | Part 4: Grace | Part 5: Patience | Part 6: Loyal Love | Part 7: Faithfulness | Part 8: Forgiveness | Part 9: Justice & Mercy | Part 10: Relenting

Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

On White Nationalism, Part 8: Noah’s Curse

September 12, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7

A common argument for American slavery during its long life was biblical: Noah cursed his son Ham (Gen 9.18-27), who is the ancestor of the African peoples (Gen 10.6-20), and the curse included the statement that “a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren” (Gen 9.25). So, says the exegete, while I don’t like slavery any more than you do, and it’s really too bad, yet this is what God has determined for these people, and we can’t fight it. Blacks are going to be the slaves of whites.

Or something along that line.

I should add here that the abolitionist movement in both the US and Britain was also peopled—and in fact instigated and led—by Christians, who read and believed their Bibles, and who pointed out, as I’m about to, that the above argument is a textbook example of lousy hermeneutics and thus nonsense.

Let us count the ways.

To begin with, it’s true that Noah’s son Ham incurred his father’s wrath for something he did while his father was sleeping off an apparently unanticipated episode of drunkenness (Gen 9.21-22). We’re not told clearly what angered Noah; all the passage says is that Ham “told his brothers” that their father was naked in his tent. The fact that the subsequent curse seems to be quite an overreaction to that simple act has led to lots of speculation about what really happened; some have suggested that since the phrase to “uncover [someone’s] nakedness” is later used as a euphemism for sexual activity (Lev 18.6-19; 20.11, 17-21; Ezk 16.36; 23.18), perhaps Ham took sexual advantage of his father’s incapacity, thereby committing rape, incest, and homosexuality all at the same time, and then humiliating his father by bragging about it.

Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t know, and we should say we don’t know.

But from this point, pretty much everything about the pro-slavery argument goes badly off the rails.

First, we don’t know that Ham was the ancestor of Black Africans. He’s identified as the father of Cush, which is commonly understood to be modern Sudan; Mizraim, which is almost certainly Egypt; Put, which is likely Libya; and Canaan, which is, well, Canaan. None of those regions involve sub-Saharan Africa, and the North Africans are generally more Arab-looking than “African”-looking.

Second, the slavery apologists seem never to notice that Ham himself was not cursed; Noah turned the curse on Ham’s son Canaan (Gen 9.25). Now, that’s a bit of an interpretational puzzle; some commentators speculate that Noah really, really wanted to hurt Ham and so cursed his (youngest?) son. Others speculate, with equally absent evidence, that Canaan might have been somehow involved in his father’s act. In the end, we don’t know why Canaan got the curse. But it’s interesting to note that of the four sons, the ones who apparently populated at least part of the African continent are precisely the ones not cursed.

Third, we really don’t know for sure that God intended to carry out Noah’s wishes. All that my confident belief in inerrancy requires is that the Bible accurately records Noah’s words. No context, narrow or broad, places divine endorsement on the prophecy, and while Noah is initially said to have “found grace in the eyes of the Lord” (Gen 6.8), and to be a recipient of God’s deliverance from universal judgment (Gen 6.13ff), and to be a New Testament example of faith (Heb 11.7), his words here do seem inexplicable in the little context we have. Not to mention that he was coming out of a drunken stupor.

In any case, he cursed the Canaanites. And we find, sure enough, that the Canaanites eventually experience God’s wrath and decree of extermination—not because Noah cursed them, but because they were intensely evil idolaters, sacrificing their living infants in fire to their imagined gods. Interestingly, God, who characterizes himself as longsuffering, patiently endured centuries of their violent misbehavior, giving them time to come to their senses; he tells Abraham that he couldn’t possess the Promised Land in his lifetime, “for the iniquity of the Amorites [a Canaanite tribe] is not yet full” (Gen 15.16).

So were blacks biblically cursed with a fate as slaves?

That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: racism

On White Nationalism, Part 7: The Davidic Royal Line to Britain

September 9, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6

We’ve seen that there’s no evidence—of any merit—that the birthright lines of Ephraim and Manasseh (particularly Ephraim, Gen 48.14) migrated northwestward from the Assyrian captivity and became the genealogical forebears of the Anglo-Saxons. Anglo-Israelites add the claim that the kingly line of Judah (Gen 49.10), established in David (2Sam 7), is connected with the British royal house, embodied today in Queen Elizabeth II.

  • The kingly line was dethroned with the deportation to Babylon of Jehoiachin (2K 24.6-16) and his uncle Zedekiah (2K 24.17-25.11), the last two kings in the Davidic line. (Nebuchadnezzar’s puppet governor, Gedaliah [2K 25.22ff], was not Davidic.)
  • But Jeremiah the prophet was left behind in Jerusalem when the exiles were taken to Babylon (Jer 40.1-6), along with certain members of the royal line (Jer 41.1), including some of the king’s daughters (Jer 41.10).
  • After the assassination of Nebuchadnezzar’s puppet governor, Gedaliah (Jer 41.1-3), fearing retribution from Babylon, Judah’s ad hoc leadership decided to go down to Egypt to seek protection there (Jer 41.4-6, as implied in the succeeding passage).
  • Though Jeremiah argued strongly against this decision (Jer 42.7-22), the leaders carried out their plan, forcibly taking Jeremiah himself with them (Jer 43.1-7).

The biblical account ends the story with this group of Jews in Egypt, hearing God’s judgment pronounced on them by Jeremiah (Jer 44.24-30). But Anglo-Israelites continue the story by drawing on various alleged ancient traditions.

  • Jeremiah eventually left Egypt, taking with him one of King Zedekiah’s daughters, Tea-Tephi by name.
  • They arrived in Ireland in 569 BC.
  • She married the king of Ireland, whose line continued to Scotland and was eventually embodied in King James VI.
  • James VI eventually became King James I of Great Britain, establishing there the House of Stuart. He was also, incidentally, the king who ordered the translation of the King James Version of the Bible.
  • With some twists and turns, the line eventuated in Elizabeth II, the current Queen of Great Britain.
  • The kings of this line (along with the occasional queen) have been coronated in Westminster Abbey on a throne that encases the Stone of Scone. This is the stone that Jacob used as a pillow  (Gen 28.11) when he dreamed of the staircase descending from heaven at Bethel, and where he received the Abrahamic covenant from God.

There are several indisputable points in this sequence. Most obviously, the former bulleted list is in the biblical account, and as a conservative, I would accept all of it. Jeremiah did indeed go to Egypt (Jer 43.8). The Jewish leadership brought a lot of people with them, including the king’s daughters (Jer 43.6).

Second, the accession of James VI of Scotland to the British throne in 1603 is a well-established historical fact. And Queen Elizabeth II is currently on the throne.

But the rest of it is sketchier. A lot sketchier.

Jeremiah visiting Ireland? No mention of it in any of Irish history, despite the repeated claim in Anglo-Israelite writings that the story comes from “the Annals of Ireland.” Time for these folks to produce an original source, rather than just quoting one another.

A daughter of Zedekiah marrying the king of Ireland? Same. No documentation of this either. None. Let’s have an original source.

As to the Stone of Scone, it’s sandstone, of which there is little to none in the region of Bethel, where Jacob found himself in need of a pillow—though it’s common on the Israeli coast and further south, in the Negev and over toward Petra on the Jordanian side. The predominant sedimentary geology around Bethel is limestone. Sandstone, however, is common in Scotland, which is where British tradition places the origin of the Stone of Scone.

As we found with the “evidence” for the northwestward migration of the ten Northern tribes, this evidence is just worthless. I’m happy to see evidence that’s serious, but so far absolutely nothing rises to that standard.

Next time, an idea from outside Anglo-Israelism proper: Noah’s curse on all the black folks. And a lesson in hermeneutics.

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On White Nationalism, Part 6: From Exile to Britain

September 5, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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Is it possible that the descendants of the leaders of the ten tribes of the Northern Kingdom, exiled in Assyria, made their way northwestward across Europe, perhaps over multiple generations, eventually arriving in the British Isles?

There’s not much in the way of evidence from the period.

I say “not much” because there’s a teeeeeeny little bit, but it doesn’t get us very far. In the apocryphal book of 2 Esdras, a Jewish apocalyptic writing probably from around the time of Christ, there’s a brief account (13.40-47) of the exiles from Assyria determining to escape over the Euphrates into a land called “Arsareth.” But the name is mentioned nowhere else in ancient writing; and nobody knows where it was, or even if the name was intended to be a place name at all.

There’s another relevant reference in Josephus’s Antiquities of the Jews,11.5.2, where Josephus observes off-handedly that “the ten tribes are beyond Euphrates till now, and are an immense multitude, and not to be estimated by numbers.” Josephus is writing in the first century AD.

Here’s the thing. Neither of these sources is reliable. 2 Esdras is filled with bizarre visions and is at best deuterocanonical; the Orthodox tradition gives it that status, but the Roman Catholic church doesn’t. And Josephus tends to include unconfirmed historical accounts, especially if they portray the Jews, his people, in a good light.

So we have two accounts that may or may not agree, and we can’t trust either one of them. That’s not much of a basis for connecting my WASPy brethren to Joseph’s birthright.

A second line of evidence for the idea comes from biblical passages.

  • Israel will be regathered from “the north and the west,” presumably with reference to the land of Israel (Is 49.12). But the same passage also refers to people coming “from the land of Sinim”; and while Anglo-Israelites suggest that the phrase literally means “the land of the South” and refers to Australia, the two standard Hebrew words for “south” are teman (e.g. Dt 3.27) and darom (e.g. Ezek 40.24), and the place name Sin is used elsewhere (Ezek 30.15) to refer to a location in Egypt, probably Syene (modern Aswan). The point of the passage, which I believe looks to a time yet future, is the gathering of peoples from all directions to worship Yahweh’s Servant. The use of similar passages, such as Isa 11.11, 24.14-15, and Hos 11.10-11, in support of the tribes in the west is similarly weak.
  • Allegedly Zaraphath (Ob 1.20) is a reference to France. But the only other biblical reference to the place (1K 17.9-10) speaks of it as in the vicinity of Sidon (Lebanon).

A third line of evidence is from names that sound like biblical names or words.

  • The word Saxons is allegedly from “Isaac’s sons.” Sounds cool, but it’s just simply not true. The fact that words sound alike—seem and seam, for example—is absolutely no evidence at all they are related to one another. In practice, they usually aren’t.
  • It’s suggested that the Danites left their tribal name in place names all across Europe—the Danube, Don, Dneister, and Dneiper rivers; Denmark and Danzig; and even London. We can observe first that there are other origins for those names given in the standard reference works—you can Google them yourself. But further I note the following place names in Vietnam: Danang, Dien Bien Phu, Nam Dinh, and Don Duong. Seems as though those Danites really got around. Why do you suppose the name of Dan shows up so often, and not the name of, say, Naphtali, Zebulun, or Issachar? I think the question answers itself.
  • The name America allegedly comes ultimately from hamachiri, “the Machirites” (Num 26.29), descendants of Manasseh’s son Machir. Unfortunately, though, no standard source derives the Italian name Amerigo, the immediate source of America, from Hebrew. Several sources are suggested—and you should be warned that the alleged meanings in those “baby names” books are highly unreliable—with the most popular being “house ruler” from Germanic.
  • Yankee is allegedly a form of the name Jacob. While there’s again a lot of uncertainty, most place it from the Dutch janke, meaning “little John.” The Hebrew form of John is Yohanan (e.g. Jer 40.13); while the English form of the Hebrew Jacob is James. Even if Yankee were connected etymologically to the name Jacob, it would be exceedingly difficult to show that it was a reference to the biblical Jacob; there have been a lot of Jacobs over the years. The argument that “GI Joe” is a reference to Jacob’s son Joseph is similarly poorly founded.

All the evidence of a migration of the ten tribes northwestward to Europe—all of it—is poorly based and ephemeral and thus worthless. If the migration happened, we’re going to need better evidence before we believe it.

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On White Nationalism, Part 5: The “Ten Lost Tribes”

September 2, 2019 by Dan Olinger 4 Comments

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Most of us learned in Sunday school the basics of Israel’s history—

  • The call of Abraham (c. 2000 BC)
  • The Exodus (c. 1500 BC)
  • Establishment of the monarchy under David (c. 1000 BC)
  • Civil War (c. 900 BC)
  • Deportation of the Northern Kingdom of Israel by Assyria (722 BC)
  • Deportation of the Southern Kingdom of Judah by Babylon (586 BC)
  • Return from Babylon (536 BC)
  • Dedication of the Second Temple (516 BC)

And likewise most of us know what’s missing: the Return from Assyria. Because there was none.

The two exiles are fundamentally different in that respect. Judah comes back. Israel doesn’t.

Judah is re-established as a country—though never as an independent, self-governing entity, at least in biblical times. It exists as a vassal state under Persia, then Greece, then the Ptolemies and Seleucids, and finally Rome, which eventually destroys it (AD 70) and scatters it to the nations, not to reassemble until modern times as the State of Israel (AD 1948, to be precise). Self-governing once again. At last.

But the Northern Kingdom? It disappears.

Whatever happened to those 10 tribes?

Well, to begin with, we need to talk about the numbers. Jacob (named “Israel” by God [Gen 32.28]) had 12 sons—the 12 tribes of Israel—one of whom was Joseph. Jacob gave Joseph, in effect, the birthright, which included a double portion of the inheritance—which Jacob indicated by granting both of Joseph’s two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, full standing as tribes.

So now there were 13 tribes—not counting Joseph as distinct from his sons.

After the Israelites conquered Canaan under Joshua, the land was apportioned among all the tribes (Josh 13-19)—except Levi (Josh 13.14, 33), which received no land inheritance but was given property within the apportionments of each of the other 12 tribes, so that they could serve as teachers of the Law throughout the Land (Josh 21.1ff).

To complicate matters, several tribes—Reuben, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh—requested land allotments east of the Jordan (Num 32.1-5), a request Moses granted (Num 32.33). So now we’re back to 13 allotments again, with a West and East Manasseh.

And further, Simeon’s land is placed inside Judah’s, as an enclave (Josh 19.9).

So how many tribes are there in the North? How many in the South? Three (Judah, Ephraim, Simeon)? Or four (Judah, Ephraim, Simeon, Levi)? out of 12, or 13? or 14, counting Manasseh twice?

I have no idea. :-)

Well, however many tribes there were in the North, the Assyrians invade in 722 BC and take the leaders of the Northern Kingdom into exile, but not everybody. How do we know that?

  • That was the normal practice; you distribute the exiled leadership across the empire, and move in people from across the empire, so that they’ll intermarry with those not exiled and lessen the likelihood that the nationalist / tribal spirit will endure, thereby lowering the likelihood of future rebellions. That’s what Nebuchadnezzar did a little more than a century later (2K 25.12).
  • Sargon, the Assyrian king, claimed that he took 27,290 Israelites into exile. This is not likely to have been the entire Northern population, given that 70 years before the exile Judah’s King Amaziah had hired 100,000 Israelite troops as mercenaries to help him fight against Edom (2Chr 25.6). If the Northern army could spare 100,000 soldiers, their entire population must have been quite a bit larger than that.
  • There’s evidence that at least some Israelites migrated to the South before the exile, either for religious reasons—for easier access to the Temple in Jerusalem—or to escape the impending Assyrian invasion. There’s a debate between a couple of well-known modern Israeli archaeologists as to how extensive that migration was, but nobody says that no members of the Northern tribes came South.
    • Some from Ephraim and Manasseh had moved south during Asa’s reign, 150 years before the exile (2Chr 15.9).
    • Ephraim, Manasseh, and “all the remnant of Israel” donated to the renovation of the Temple under Josiah in 621 BC (2Chr 34.9), a century after the exile.
    • All 12 tribes were (apparently?) represented at the dedication of the Second Temple in 516 BC (Ezra 6.17, 8.35).
  • Several passages in the New Testament speak of the existence of the “exiled” tribes—
    • Anna, the prophetess who welcomes the baby Jesus at the Temple, is of the tribe of Asher (Lk 2.36).
    • In his speech to Agrippa, Paul seems to think of all 12 tribes as still in existence (Ac 26.7).
    • James writes his epistle “to the twelve tribes that are in the Dispersion” (Jam 1.1).

What does all this mean? It means that there are no “ten lost tribes of Israel.” The tribes never left and thus were never lost.

But it’s clear that some from the ten tribes were exiled. Could they have traveled, over several generations, to Britain? We’ll take a look at that next time.

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