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

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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Servant Song 2, Part 3: God Responds to Predict

March 7, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2

Now God’s reply to the Servant points him to the outcome of his assuredly successful mission: the eternal deliverance and joy of the people he is serving.

With perfect timing, God is already hearing and helping his Servant, and he will continue to do so (Is 49.8). For the rest of the Song he appears to be focusing on the Servant’s work with Israel rather than the Gentiles; note the phrase “covenant of the people” (cf. Is 49.5-6 and “his people” in verse 13)—though he does speak briefly here of the “establish[ment of] the earth.”

He has much to say about the outcome of that work.

He will return Israel to the land of its inheritance, which is currently desolate. We should note that while Isaiah is writing in the 700s BC (probably just before the Assyrians deported the leadership of the Northern Kingdom, Israel), his primary audience appears to be Judah, the Southern Kingdom, as they will experience captivity in Babylon some 150 years later. (Perhaps the clearest indication of this is his naming of Cyrus, the Persian who overthrew Babylon, in Is 44.28 and 45.1.)

So I think that here he is speaking to the Jews who will be exiled in Babylon, predicting their release and return from captivity. It is they who will reinhabit their currently desolate Promised Land (Is 49.8), who will be released from captivity and return to lush pasturelands (Is 49.9). They will live in comfort, out of the heat of the sun and next to an ample water supply, because the Lord will show mercy—end their deserved punishment—and lead them home (Is 49.10).

In language reminiscent of the famous passage in Isaiah 40—“make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low”—God promises that the road home will be smooth and straight (Is 49.11). God’s people will flow back to their land from the far corners of the earth (Is 49.12).

Here we see hints of something more than the return of Judahites from Babylon. Those returning from Babylon would naturally approach Israel from the north, as they follow the water supply of the Euphrates River along the Fertile Crescent. But some are said to come from the west—and since Israel’s western border is the Mediterranean Sea, I would assume that this would refer to people coming from the Mediterranean Basin. And then there’s the reference to “the land of Sinim.” To be frank, nobody knows where that is. Some aggressive interpreters see the root “Sino-,” which is used in the modern age to refer to China, but the Bible nowhere uses the term in this sense; indeed, this is the only occurrence of the word in Scripture. Some have suggested Syene, on the Nile in southern Egypt. Or it may be noteworthy that during the Wilderness Wanderings Israel spent time in “the Wilderness of Sin” (Ex 16.1; 17.1; Nu 33.11-12), somewhere south of the Land. But in the end, nobody knows. The most highly regarded Hebrew lexicon (HALOT for you Hebrew nerds) says simply, “unknown.”

The Song ends with a doxology (Is 49.13). Heaven and earth are called to praise God with singing, for he “hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.”

This Second Song, then, notes the Servant’s apparent unimpressiveness, an idea that we’ll come across again in the remaining Songs. Yet it assures the Servant—and us—of his exalted status, even apparently ascribing deity to him, even as it assures us that his people, both Jewish and Gentile, will eventually live in a changed world, one changed significantly for the better.

We see a phenomenon here not uncommon elsewhere in prophecy, where there’s a near-term prediction (in this case, Judah’s return from Babylon) but also wording that seems to call for a fulfillment much farther into the future, even in the eschaton.

We’ll turn next time to the Third Song, the shortest one.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 2, Part 2: God Responds to Reassure

March 4, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1

God responds to the Servant’s “complaint” in Isaiah 49.4 by laying out the cosmic scope of his mission and the certainty of God’s empowerment and his eventual success. These frustrations, he says, are but temporary and inconsequential.

He begins by saying that it is of no consequence that the Servant has not yet achieved his mission (Is 49.5); he has been designed from the womb to bring Jacob / Israel back into fellowship with God, and though that has not yet happened, It certainly will: the Servant will be glorious in God’s eyes, and God will be his strength; omnipotence guarantees his success.

So it will happen (Is 49.6); since God has been keeping Israel for himself, the nation is still around for the Servant to rescue. This use of the word preserved here is an example of a “divine passive”; God isn’t said to be the one who has preserved Israel, but it clearly isn’t the Servant who has done it, and no one other than God could be the one accomplishing it.

But God doesn’t stop with mere assurance; he explodes the horizon by taking the Servant’s success from the national to the cosmic. The Servant will bring light even to the Gentiles, and salvation “to the end of the earth.” He’s talking about the “coastlands” from the first Servant Song. The Servant’s work will enlighten the farthest peoples—in New Testament phrasing, “every kindred, tongue, people, and nation” (Re 5.9, 14.6). And this extensive work will not merely “enlighten”; it will save.

This level of success will of course reverse the current apparent misfortunes of the Servant. The God who has redeemed—purchased—Israel as has no other (he is Israel’s “Holy One”) will exalt this Servant, who is despised by nation and individual alike, to the point where kings and princes will bow down and worship (Is 49.7). This may mean simply that they will worship God for his deliverance of Israel and the Gentiles. But contextually it may be saying that the princes will worship the Servant.

Now this is a remarkable statement, given that God himself has said repeatedly that only he may be worshiped (Ex 20.3-5; 23.24; 34.14; Dt 5.9; 6.13). This same God will take a despised person to the point where earthly royalty will worship him.

Is this contradictory? I would rule out that possibly outright.

This Servant is clearly worthy of worship, though he doesn’t appear to be at the moment. He’s not Isaiah. He’s not the nation of Israel. He is God, distinct in some way from God the present speaker, and disguised in some way from human eyes.

For this Testament, a conundrum. But for those of us who benefit from New Testament revelation, a Second Person of the Godhead.

Yahweh, the uniquely faithful one, the uniquely unchanging one, will raise his Servant to that height, and why? Because “he shall choose thee.”

What a poignant statement, particularly in light of the Servant’s frustration as expressed in verse 4.

This section continues, I think, nearly to the end of the Song at verse 13. But there seems to be a bit of a turning point here, as God begins to point the Servant’s attention to the successful outcome of his mission, to the joyous future of those whom he is liberating.

We’ll look to that subsection in the next post.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 2, Part 1: The Servant Speaks

February 29, 2024 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2

The second Servant Song appears in Isaiah 49. Again, scholars disagree about its precise location; some would limit it to the first 6 verses, some to the first 7, while others take it all the way to verse 13. I’ll note that the Servant is addressed directly at the end of verse 7, and again in 8 and 9. Verses 10-13 appear to describe those that the Servant will deliver, “the prisoners” and “them that are in darkness” from verse 9. So I see the Song as extending through verse 13.

In this Song, for the first time, the Servant speaks. He describes his commission in verses 1-3, and he responds to it in verse 4. Then he relates how God responded to his words (Is 49.5-12). The Song ends with praise as the whole earth rejoices in what God has done through his Servant (Is 49.13).

In this post we’ll look at the Servant’s words. I will confess that as I was memorizing these verses, I was flabbergasted. We’ll get to the reason for that in a minute.

Before the Servant describes his call from God, he calls all the earth to hear his words. In this opening section, he’s not going to tell us why his call deserves the attention of the whole earth—that will come a few verses later, in God’s speech—but we already know from the First Song that the Servant’s mission will deliver the Gentiles as well as the people of the Covenant (Is 42.1, 4, 6), so this doesn’t surprise us. Since “the isles” (distant coastlands) will be affected (Is 42.4), he calls them now to hear what he has to say (Is 49.1).

And then he describes his divine call (Is 49.2-3).

This call comes while he is still in the womb, “the bowels of [his] mother” (Is 49.1). As a Christian, I’m inclined to see the Servant as the Messiah—though for the sake of careful study, I’ve avoided actively advocating for that in the previous posts. But of course it’s hard to avoid seeing here a reference to the Virgin Birth of Jesus, and the extensive material in Matthew and Luke that presents Jesus’ divine calling from before he was born—indeed, before he was even conceived. This calling is revealed to Joseph once he becomes aware that his fiancée is pregnant (Mt 1.18-23), before that, of course, to Mary (Lk 1.26-38), as well as to Zacharias (Lk 1.5-17, esp v 17), and to Elizabeth (Lk 1.39-45, esp v 43), the parents of John the Baptist.

And what, exactly, is the Servant’s call?

God has equipped him for special service; he is like a sharpened weapon, a sword or an arrow, to be sent forth and accomplish his mission effectively (Is 49.2). He is God’s Servant, and he will be successful in making God’s glory obvious (Is 49.3).

I note that here the Servant is called “Israel.” This seems to favor the standard Jewish interpretation, that Israel is the means by which God will bless the world and demonstrate his glory. Yet just 2 verses later, God will say that this Servant “will bring Jacob again to him” (Is 49.5). Readers of the Bible know that “Israel” is just another name for the biblical Jacob, which became the national name of Jacob’s descendants. Since the two names describe the same person / nation, how can the Servant, Israel, bring Israel back to God? It seems that even the context of verse 3 implies an individual, not national, deliverer.

Verse 4 is shocking. The Servant says,

Then I said, I have laboured in vain,
I have spent my strength for nought, and in vain:
Yet surely my judgment is with the Lord,
And my work with my God.

I’m flabbergasted. The Servant is expressing frustration, recognizing his own failure and depending on God to justify him and his work. This raises all kinds of questions, especially if the Servant is the Christ.

Let me put it bluntly: did Jesus have bad days? Did he confess thoughts like this to the Father in those long nights of solitary prayer? We know that Jesus did not exercise his divine omniscience during his earthly ministry (Mk 13.32), but relied on his Father to supply the knowledge that he needed (Jn 5.19, 30; 2.25). Did this dependency sometimes frustrate him?

Or is he simply saying that in his eventual death, he will apparently fail, as far as the world’s perspective is concerned? But he says that he said these words.

We are delving into matters that are far beyond us.

In response to this apparent cry of anguish, the Father responds. We’ll deal with that next time.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 1, Part 2: Confident Hope

February 26, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Introduction | Song 1, Part 1

I noted in the previous post that some analysts end the first Servant Song with verse 4. I agree with those who posit a second stanza, which extends through verse 9. My reason for that is simple; verse 6 continues the singular form with which the chapter began (though it switches from 3rd person to 2nd). You can tell that “you” in verse 6 is singular if you’ll check the KJV; that version uses the archaic forms “thou” and “thee,” which consistently are singular in form and thus translate singular forms in the underlying Hebrew.

Verse 7 continues addressing the singular object and speaks of his mission in ways that the later Servant Songs will as well. So I’d say this first Song has a second stanza, verses 5-9.

There’s a second question: who is the Servant? Traditionally Jewish scholars have identified Israel as the Servant, while Christians have seen him as the Christ. A few interpreters think he’s simply the prophet Isaiah. This early in our survey I’m not ready to give my position, since we have little data to work with in just the 4 verses of the first stanza. I will note that Isaiah seems to be an unlikely prospect, since the first stanza speaks of him establishing justice around the world (Is 42.4), and Isaiah himself clearly did not do that. This second stanza seems to rule out Israel, since the Servant is said to be given “for a covenant of the people” (Is 42.6), and it seems unlikely that Israel would be given to Israel. But for now we’ll withhold judgment and keep looking for evidence in the text.

This second stanza begins with a proclamation about God, the one speaking: He’s the Creator and maintainer of heaven and earth and all it contains (Is 42.5). The stanza later repeats this idea (Is 42.8), in what literary analysts would call an “inclusio”: this Creator God is greater than all other gods, and he calls himself YHWH. Most English translations render this personal name, I think unfortunately, as “the LORD” (note the small caps). So the Master of this Servant is infinitely great, yet one who seeks a relationship with his people and remains ever-present with them. Evidence of this greatness extends into the next verse (Is 42.9): God has kept all his promises to this point, and he makes further promises about the future, because he sees and knows it perfectly.

Between these two bookend statements God reveals something of his relationship with the Servant as well as the Servant’s mission. Yahweh has called the Servant and will be present with him to make him successful in the accomplishment of his mission (Is 42.6), which will involve not only the covenant people Israel, but the Gentiles as well.

And what is that mission? To bring light to the blind and freedom to the imprisoned (Is 42.7). We’re not given the details at this point: are these people literally or spiritually blind? Are they literally or spiritually in prison? Perhaps we’ll learn more in later Songs.

But what have we learned so far?

Someone, a “Servant,” is coming. He has a special relationship with the all-powerful and all-knowing God. He may appear less than impressive, but we must not underestimate him, for he is empowered by God and will certainly be successful in bringing justice to the whole earth.

This is a unique God, and a unique Servant. This is an earth-shaking change, and best of all, a change for the better. This is a message of hope to all who suffer injustice, who wonder if there is deliverance. The God who has done marvelous things for centuries will repair the brokenness of what we see, thereby putting in place a good and gracious future world.

We don’t know—yet, here in Song 1—when or how all this will come to pass. But we have our confidence boosted by the power and the record of success evidenced by the covenant-keeping and eternally consistent God.

Next time, a Second Song—and a longer one.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 1, Part 1: First Look

February 22, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Introduction

Isaiah’s first Servant Song appears at the beginning of chapter 42. There’s some disagreement among scholars as to where precisely it ends; in fact, the precise references of all the Servant Songs are somewhat fuzzy. For the first song, many would limit it to the first 4 verses, while others would take it through verse 9—in which case the song has a second stanza. I decided to memorize the longer passage, so we’ll take two posts for this song, one for each stanza.

This first stanza is in the voice of God, addressing Isaiah’s audience (note the plural “you” in Is 42.9) and referring to the Servant in the third person: “Behold my servant” (Is 42.1). God begins describing with affection, in relational terms:

  • God’s soul delights in him (Is 42.1).
  • God has put his “spirit” upon him (Is 42.1).

I find it interesting that God speaks of both his own soul and his own spirit. Now, since God is not a human, the question of trichotomy—is he body, soul and spirit, or just body and soul?—does not apply to him. I’d suggest, then, that his use of both terms together may suggest that he is “all in” in his relationship with the Servant.

Would it be reading the New Testament back into the Old to find a trinitarian implication here?—that the soul is that of the Father, and the spirit is the distinct person of the Holy Spirit? That would lead us to conclude that the Servant is the “missing” third person of the Trinity, the Son.

My background in biblical theology inclines me to be cautious about seeing too much later revelation here, centuries before the incarnation, so I’ll leave that question open.

The rest of the stanza speaks of the Servant’s task—his calling, if you will—and the manner in which he carries it out. Note the repeated theme of justice:

  • “He shall bring forth justice to the Gentiles” (Is 42.1);
  • “He shall bring forth justice unto truth” (Is 42.3);
  • He shall “set justice in the earth” (Is 42.4).

The Servant’s primary task, apparently, is to overturn the injustice of the world system and make it a place where justice is done. We’re not told yet how he will do this, but those of us who’ve read the rest of the story can see easily where this is going.

The stanza ends with several descriptors of the Servant’s manner. We find that manner surprising, for a couple of reasons. First, he’s presented as mild-mannered; and frankly, mild-mannered approaches don’t typically overturn injustice, especially given the commitment of world rulers to maintaining their own power structures. But this one

  • will “not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street” (Is 42.2);
  • “A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench” (Is 42.3).

A second surprise comes when we read the third description of his manner:

  • “He shall not fail nor be discouraged” (Is 42.4).

This seems to come right out of the blue. Here is someone who has God’s spirit upon him, who is called and empowered to overturn unjust earthly power structures and establish justice all across the earth, reorganizing even Gentile states (Is 42.1), the “isles” (distant coastlands) over which “his law” shall reign (Is 42.4)—so why would we be concerned that he might fail or be discouraged? Where did that come from?

In this first stanza of this first Servant Song, then, we find that the Servant is empowered by God, and in a special relationship with him, and therefore able to do world-shaking things in the cause of justice. Yet, in some way, we’re supposed to be surprised by that. This is a theme we’ll see again in the Songs.

I can’t fail to mention that this stanza shows up in the New Testament, in reference to Christ’s earthly ministry, and specifically in connection to what scholars call the “messianic secret.” Jesus sometimes tells his followers, and the recipients of his miracles, not to tell anyone what he has done. Matthew tells us that he did that in order to fulfill the prophecy of this stanza (Mt 12.15-21); part of his mission, apparently, is to appear not as a conquering king, but as someone who seems not to have any likelihood to be who he really is.

Why? Well, we’re not told. But it occurs to me that God delights in those who come to him by faith, and it doesn’t take much faith to trust in a conquering king on a white stallion. But a Jewish carpenter? from Nazareth (Jn 1.46)? Now, that’s another story.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Songs, Part 1: Introduction

February 19, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

For several weeks now I’ve been working on memorizing Isaiah’s “Servant Songs.” I’ve found them difficult to memorize, for a couple of reasons. First, I’m aging, and everything is getting more difficult to memorize. I’ve heard that the brain is more like a muscle than a bucket, and that the more you use it, the stronger it gets. I hope that’s true; if it is, then the difficulty I’m having would be even worse if I weren’t actively exercising my memory muscles.

The second reason this has been difficult is specific to the passages. They’re a set of four, by the same author, in the same prophetic book, and there’s a lot of parallel phrasing in there. (Compare, for example, Isaiah 42.6 and 49.8, and 42.7 and 49.9.) It’s taken some time to get the passages into my head so that my brain knows which specific phrasing goes with which context.

But there are benefits to all that recitation and repetition.

First, as with any memorization, you notice details you didn’t notice before—where the “wills” are as opposed to where the “shalls” are, for example, but often more significant things* such as parallel phrasings that give insight into the structure of the text and thus the mind of the author at the moment he was writing.

Further, the repetition gives you time to “think on these things.” The text makes a greater impression on your mind, and the process forces you to think more deeply about what the author is saying. You notice connections between verses (take a look, for example, at Isaiah 53, which is a chain of thoughts, one link connected to the next phrasally; I first noticed this phenomenon when I was memorizing Psalm 27). My ADHD mind is not good at meditating on things abstractly, but the process of memorization overcomes that disability quite nicely, since I have to think about the thoughts and their connections over a period of time.

A particular benefit of memorizing the Servant Songs is that, in a very real sense, they’re not written to me; they’re written to the Servant of Yahweh, God the Son, the Messiah. As a result, they give us insight into the mind of Christ that we don’t get anywhere else.

In Biblical Studies there’s a concept called “the messianic consciousness”: the idea that the man Jesus didn’t fully understand his divine identity from infancy, but that it developed in his mind as he matured. The Bible does teach that “Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man” (Lk 2.52). Exactly what that looked like is of course a mystery to us—how can the omniscient God increase in wisdom? how can God the Son increase in favor with God? But it says he did. And we presume that he didn’t speak fluent Hebrew when he was a week old or dissertate on the hypostatic union when he was three—though he did astonish the rabbis when he was twelve, and at that age he clearly knew that God was his Father in a way that Joseph wasn’t (Lk 2.46-49).

This concept has raised in my mind visual images of the boy Jesus listening to the Scripture in the synagogue. (His family almost certainly did not have Tanakh scrolls that he could read at home.) At some point along the way, when he heard the Servant Songs read, he realized, “That’s me! That’s talking about me!” Did this realization hit him suddenly, like the proverbial Mack truck, or did the light of understanding rise slowly in his mind, like dawn on the eastern horizon?

I don’t know. But at some point these songs became his. Did he memorize them? Did he pray them to his Father over those long nights alone on a hillside? Did he contemplate them during walks near Nazareth, among lilies and sparrows and brilliantly ornamented wildflowers? Did he come to find meaning in the idea that “this is my Father’s world” that goes well beyond anything that we can say of ourselves?

I’d like to take a few posts, maybe more than usual, to meditate on these songs as a vehicle to seeing Christ the Servant in a richer and rounder light.

* My apologies to our British cousins, who think the difference between “will” and “shall” is meaningful, and who make a practice of using the two words correctly. I can never remember the difference.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

On Sources for the Bible, Part 1: Summary

February 5, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Where did the Bible come from?

The answer to that question depends on what you mean.

Most simply, and most importantly, the Bible comes from God. Paul tells Timothy that the words of the Scripture (and in this context, he pretty clearly means the Hebrew Scripture, or what we Christians call the Old Testament) were breathed out by God (2Ti 3.16), and Peter says that the human authors were “moved” by the Holy Spirit (2P 1.21). That word “moved” is used in Acts of the storm (Ac 27.15, 17) that nearly blew Paul’s ship all the way to Africa (Ac 27.17). Since the Greek word for “wind” is the same as the word for “spirit,” it’s pretty clear that Peter is engaged in wordplay.

But the Bible also came from human authors, people like us. The fact that they were blown along by the Holy Wind doesn’t mean that they had no control over what they were writing. When the prophet Jeremiah accuses the Lord of deceiving him (Je 20.7), he’s clearly expressing his own opinion, not God’s. And when Paul writes that he baptized only two people in Corinth (1Co 1.14), you can see his thought process as he corrects himself in the succeeding verses: “Oh, yeah, I baptized that one family—and, uh, I don’t remember whether I baptized anybody else” (1Co 1.16). (That’s clearly my informal paraphrase.) Paul’s words clearly indicate that he isn’t just quoting the Holy Spirit, who most certainly does remember whether Paul baptized anybody else.

In the famous “needle’s eye” passage, Matthew (Mt 19.24) and Mark (Mk 10.25) use the common Greek word for “needle,” the kind of needle any first-century Jew could find in his house. But many manuscripts have Luke (Lk 18.25) using a different word for “needle,” a technical term for a surgical needle. Luke, the doctor, uses the first Greek word that comes to mind for “needle”; he speaks from his own experience.*

So the authors, though completely under the direction of the Spirit, played a role in the composition of the biblical text.

Let’s take this a step further. The authors themselves used other sources as they composed their works. I’m not speaking here of the common critical assumption that the Genesis creation story came from the Enuma Elish, or that the flood story came from the Epic of Gilgamesh. I think it’s much more likely that those pagan myths came from the cultural memory of an actual ancient creation and an actual ancient global flood, the one Moses describes in Genesis.

Rather, I’m saying that the authors borrowed freely from other ancient works, often saying so at the time—in effect, inserting a footnote.

Now, we all know that the New Testament often quotes from the Old. The simplest way to see this clearly and quickly is to flip through the Christian Standard Version (available online for free at biblegateway.com). The editors of that version have opted to set all NT quotations of the OT in bold-faced type, making them visually jump right off the page. And if you start in Matthew, who quotes the OT frequently, you’ll see a lot of bold-faced type.

But the biblical writers don’t limit themselves to quoting just other writers of Scripture. They quote from all over the place—including Persian historical archives and classical Greek poets waxing eloquent about Zeus. It’s possible, though not certain, that Jesus himself, resurrected, glorified, and at the right hand of the Father, quotes a classical Greek poet.

And these writers do so without seeming to sense any need to explain themselves or to offer some sort of disclaimer.

Next time we’ll look at what’s there in the biblical text.

* A note for those of you thinking as you read: which Greek word did Jesus actually use? And which Gospel author reported that word inaccurately? Freak out thou not, my friend; Jesus almost certainly was speaking Aramaic, and he used the common word for “needle” in that language. Matthew, Mark, and Luke were translating Jesus’ words into Greek as they wrote, and so each writer would choose the first Greek word for “needle” that popped into his head, based on his experience.

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

Part 2: Specifics

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: bibliology, intertextuality, systematic theology

On Reading The Message

January 4, 2024 by Dan Olinger 5 Comments

For many years I’ve made a practice of reading through the Bible in a year. I also like to read as many different versions as possible, for reasons I detail in the link in the previous sentence.

This past year I read through Eugene Peterson’s The Message, which I’d never read before. Since I usually prefer to read versions at the formal end of the spectrum, this choice was unusual for me; Peterson famously sought to make The Message speak in everyday, even casual language. I suppose we could argue over whether this work is a dynamic translation or a paraphrase, but it’s definitely “looser” than the versions I usually read.

A blog post is not the place for a detailed formal book review, but I noticed something in reading this translation that I hadn’t anticipated, something that I suspect would logically affect other similar versions as well.

I was struck from the outset at the general uniformity of style. In most formal Bible translations—indeed, in most literature, period—you get stylistic variations from genre to genre. Narrative is straightforward, descriptive, matter-of-fact. Poetry is much more stylized and terse, denser in meaning and implication. Legal documents are rigidly formal and plain. Speeches are often flowery.

Further, within narrative, different characters have different ways of speaking. Their personalities and character qualities show up in their speech. You learn about the characters from the form of their words as well as their content.

In The Message, a lot of that—maybe most of it—disappears. Abraham sounds like Moses sounds like David sounds like Peter sounds like Paul. Even God talks the same way as everybody else. That’s most evident in dialogue, but it carries over into the prophetic and epistolary literature as well.

When a translation preserves those stylistic differences, you can tell the difference between Peter, the impetuous fisherman, and Paul, the highly trained rabbi from Hellenistic Tarsus. You can tell the difference between Ezra, the ready scribe in the Law of Moses, and Amos, the shepherd from Tekoa. And the more slowly and attentively you read, the more you notice, the more there is to savor.

Now, I think plastering over those stylistic differences lowers the literary quality of the work, and it renders it more difficult for us readers to pick up on the subtleties that were designed into the stylistic variations among the genres and the characters in the Scripture.

That said, I’m a firm believer in making the Scripture accessible to the ploughboy, and if losing those stylistic subtleties were the price of making the Word comprehensible to readers of a given educational or socioeconomic stratum, that’s a price I’d be willing to pay, every time.

But I don’t think that price is necessary. I wish Peterson’s eminently understandable text preserved more of those subtleties.

As I’ve said, I suspect that this is a characteristic of all paraphrases, and likely of translations of the more dynamic sort—those closest to paraphrases. The literary style becomes the style of the translator / paraphraser.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t read these works, of course; as one of my college Bible professors commented, the power of the Word of God is not limited by the imperfections of its translators. We ought to read every Bible we can get our hands on. I’ve learned some things from Peterson, as has everyone who has read from The Message.

But works like this should most certainly not be the only Bible translation you read.

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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: translation

When You’re Really Scared, Part 4: Response

December 14, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Panic | Part 3: Presence

Now David moves from God’s presence to God’s action. God is not just an observer here; he responds to what he sees.

David says that God distinguishes between his people and his enemies (“the wicked”), and he acts to accomplish different outcomes for the two groups. In the situations that frighten his people, he is “trying” us (Ps 11.5a)—not in the sense that he needs to know how things will turn out for us, or how we will respond to the fear; God is omniscient, and he doesn’t need to “find out” anything. No, he is putting us to the test in that sense that he is exercising us for our own betterment.

We all know how this works with athletes; a coach puts them through hard things to make them stronger, better athletes. So God exercises us with hard things, sometimes scary things, to make us stronger, more like his son. Paul talks about that process in Romans 5:

We glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; 4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3b-5).

Hardship brings endurance; endurance brings experience of success; experience of success brings confidence of success the next time.

So God’s intention for us is entirely benevolent, even when things are hard.

But for the wicked, things are very different. The hard things they experience are warnings of judgment, which they must anticipate.

Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone,
And an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup (Ps 11.6).

The word snares is a bit surprising; why would God rain down animal traps? Is he speaking of sending destructive things their way?

Could well be. But readers of the Hebrew text have noticed that if you swap a couple of vowels in the word for “snares” (pachim), you get a word that means “coals” (picham), which makes a lot more sense in the context of “fire and brimstone.” (And since the vowels in Hebrew weren’t written during biblical times, the distinction could have been unnoticed at the time.) Several of the modern English versions (e.g. CSB ESV NIV) render it that way.

This kind of fiery judgment is what awaits the wicked. It happened to Sodom and Gomorrah; it will be the end of Gog (Ezk 38.22), and of the beast of Revelation (Re 14.10), and of the devil (Re 20.10), and of the wicked at the Great White Throne (Re 21.8).

The KJV’s “horrible tempest” is a “raging wind,” raging especially in the sense of “hot.” Mediterranean peoples are well aware of the sirocco, which blows sand from North Africa across the Mediterranean Basin. It’s hot, biting, and destructive to crops as well as just generally unpleasant.

In another Psalm, the same David writes,

If a man does not repent, God will whet his sword; he has bent and readied his bow (Ps 7.12).

It turns out that David’s enemies aren’t the only ones flexing a bow (Ps 11.2).

But David notes that God is not all anger. He is also love—and he loves his people thoroughly, truly, and perfectly.

For the righteous Lord loveth righteousness;
His countenance doth behold the upright (Ps 11.7).

The second line reads in Hebrew, “the upright shall behold his face.”

The Lord told Moses that no one could see his face and live. Moses was allowed to see his “back” (Ex 33.23).

But we have seen the glory of God in the face of Christ (2Co 4.6), and one day we shall see his face (Re 22.4).

David said in yet another psalm,

One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after;
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple
(Ps 27.4).

May it be so for us all.

Fear not.

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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: fear, Old Testament, Psalms

When You’re Really Scared, Part 3: Presence

December 11, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Panic

Verse 4 is the pivot point of Psalm 11. David has heard the warnings of his advisers, including the panic in their voices. Now it’s time for him to respond.

It’s important to note that David never denies the truth of what they are telling him. He never says, “There are no enemies; they’re not planning evil against me; you guys are just seeing things.” He has enough experience with opposition to know that what they’re saying is very likely true.

But he doesn’t take their advice, either. He doesn’t panic; he doesn’t run. And we should expect that of him, for he’s begun the psalm with his thesis statement, his life principle:

In the LORD have I put my trust (Ps 11.1).

Now he’s going to flesh out that principle.

4The LORD is in his holy temple,
The L
ORD’s throne is in heaven:
His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men
(Ps 11.4).

Notice how the LORD’s name begins the first two lines. Readers of the Hebrew would say the name is “fronted”; it’s pushed forward in the sentence into an emphatic position. In English we would italicize or underline or circle it; if we said it out loud, we would punch the volume when we spoke his name.

This isn’t Baal or Chemosh or Dagon in the temple, or any of the gods of the other nations, who cannot see or speak or act in response to the prayers of their devotees. No. This is Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God, the one true God.

This is—and I say this reverently—the Real Deal.

And he is in his temple. Not just any temple, mind you, like the one Samson pushed down with his two hands. This is the holy temple.

At its most basic, the word holy means “unique,” “one of a kind,” “in a class by itself.” The LORD’s temple is like no other. Some four centuries later the prophet Habakkuk will quote this line of the psalm and add a line of his own to emphasize the necessary response to the holiness of this temple:

Let all the earth keep silence before him (Hab 2.20).

And so the enemies pale into insignificance. What possible threat can they be, here under the shadow of the Almighty?

Now David adds another line, another consideration:

The LORD’s throne is in heaven.

The LORD has the high ground.

A military veteran like David knows that the high ground is a significant tactical advantage. From the high ground you can see farther than your attackers, who are below you, can see. You can see where the enemy is, and you can shoot down on him, the force of gravity adding to the force of your spears and arrows and slingstones. You have all the advantages.

The LORD has the high ground.

Now, the ironic thing about that is that the LORD doesn’t need the high ground. In the light of his omnipotence, the enemy is insignificant, trivial. The battle is not close enough for any tactical advantage to throw the outcome to one side or the other.

But he does have the high ground.

And so, David continues,

His eyes behold,
His eyelids try, the children of men.

He sees. He knows. He notices.

Nothing escapes him.

You can do that from the high ground. Or even better with omniscience.

God would later tell Judah’s King Jehoshaphat,

The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to shew himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him (2Ch 16.9a).

He knows who his people are, and he doesn’t just watch their battles play out; he takes action on their behalf. He knows as well who the enemy is; the foe is located, recognized, identified, and opposed.

What will he do next?

Next time.

Part 4: Response

Photo by Alexandra Gorn on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: fear, Old Testament, Psalms

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