In my Women in the Old Testament class we had to design a Bible study. Here's what I came up with:
Bible Study Presentation
I want to do Bible studies where they are not usually done. I am interested in working towards increasing biblical literacy in our culture, both among religious and non-religious people. In terms of religious people, I mean denominations such as Liberal Quakers and Unitarian Universalists, groups that often ignore the Bible. In terms of non-religious people, I mean secular people who are interested in studying the Bible for any reason. These reasons could include, but are not limited to: interest in the Bible as literature, thinking more critically about what they do not believe in order to actually understand their secular identity, to better understand the cultural heritage they belong to, to better engage in contemporary discourse about religion, or in order to participate in contemporary “hot button” issues that involve religion such as abortion and gay marriage in a more informed manner. Another group could include social workers. I can imagine doing an in-service training to raise the biblical awareness of the employees of a domestic violence shelter, people dealing with the ramifications of dangerous biblical interpretation.
I would like to begin doing this work during my supervised ministry, in which I hope to do adult spiritual formation work within a large UU congregation. I envision offering Bible studies that last at least 4 weeks, but possibly longer. These studies could be focused around several topics: God as a biblical character, Jesus as a biblical character, violence and nonviolence in the Bible, women in the Bible, laws in the Bible, etc., etc..
Resources beyond class texts:
Berlinerblau, Jacques. "The Secular Bible: Why Nonbelievers Must Take Religion Seriously."
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005.
Brooks Thistlethwaite, Susan. “Every Two Minutes: Battered Women and Feminist Interpretation.” Russell, Letty M., Ed. Feminist Interpretation of the Bible. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1985.
Possible layout for a 5-week study focused on Women in the First Testament:
Session 1:
Group discussion on the participants’ previous experience with and relationship to the Bible.
1. Under what circumstances have you encountered the Bible before?
2. Is there anything you like or appreciate about the Bible?
3. What is difficult for you in a discussion about the Bible?
4. Why have you decided to join in a study of the Bible at this point in your life?
Session 2:
I would have sent the participants home with a survey about women in the OT. We would discuss the answers that people came up with. (Please see the informational survey I took in preparation for designing this study below.)
1. Share any connections you have to a biblical woman.
2. Were you surprised at how many biblical women you could or couldn’t name?
3. Tell us the women on your list. Tell us about the woman you described in more detail.
4. Discussion about cultural traditions of biblical women vs. actual text:
a. Where or from whom did you learn the information about the woman you described?
b. Have you ever looked up this woman’s story in the text?
c. How does the story of this woman impact ideas of “womanhood” in our culture today? (We would probably have to have a discussion on what “womanhood” means. Is it a set of expected behaviors? Is it a philosophy on the way one leads their life? How are conceptions of womanhood learned and understood? What is “natural” and what is “nurtured?”)
Session 3:
I would have sent participants home with the assignment to look up the woman they described in the survey and compare their knowledge with the actual text.
1. Report the findings of your homework.
a. How did what you already know compare to what you found in the Bible?
b. How do you feel about what you found? Did it make you angry, happy, confused, etc.?
2. How have your feelings or perceptions changed about the biblical character you’ve been studying?
3. How do you feel about the way she is commonly portrayed in culture?
4. Would it matter if culture knew the actual text? (assuming there’s a wide difference.)
Session 4:
Interpretation matters! The beginning of this session would have a lecture (hopefully still participatory) highlighting different interpretations of the women we’d been looking at (HHH and WIS are great starting points to prepare for this). We would then have a discussion of how the stories of these women have been interpreted negatively and positively and which interpretations are found in the academy, the church, and mainstream (secular) culture.
Session 5:
Final session.
1. How have your thoughts about biblical women been changed over the past month?
a. Do you respect/disrespect, appreciate/dislike, feel more/less connected to any of the female characters portrayed in the Bible? Which one’s and why?
b. Do you think any of them provide examples of a good female role model for modern day women? If so, who and why? If not, why not?
2. Have you noticed or heard anything in mainstream culture referencing a biblical woman that you wouldn’t have noticed before this study? (I would bring magazine ads we could discuss as a group in addition or just in case no one has anything to share.)
a. If so, how did it relate to the actual textual story?
b. How did you feel about the “interpretation”?
c. If it was possible to, did you respond to it? If so, how? If it wasn’t possible, how would you respond to it if you could?
3. Whether or not you’ve ever paid attention to the Bible, do you think the stories of biblical women and their multiple interpretations have effected cultural understandings of “womanhood”?
a. Share specific thoughts and examples…
4. How have your thoughts about the Bible changed over the course of this study?
Here are the Informational Survey responses from a mixed group of people:
You'll notice that the word religious is put in parenthesis when describing two of the participants. This is because I don't know to what extent they would refer to themselves as religious, but it is clear that they are involved in the religious world in a different way than the secular people.
These are the instructions I gave to the responders:
Please answer the questions without discussing them with anyone else, doing any prep-work or using any other materials. My goal is to get your raw data. The questions are broad on purpose, I’m trying not to influence your answers. It’s ok to answer “I don’t know.” Remember, this class is an Old Testament class, so try and keep your mind focused on the Jewish Hebrew Bible/Christian Old Testament. Try to answer the questions in order without looking ahead.
Question #1
What is your relationship to/experience with the Bible?
Secular Woman #1
I was raised in a Roman Catholic family attending services and religious education classes weekly until about high school age. In college and afterwards I have had a rather academic relationship to religious texts, reading the Koran, the Talmud, the Book of Mormon, and Bhagavad Gita and the Old Testament out of simple curiosity of comparing origin stories, parables, and commandment type mandates.
Secular Woman #2
It’s interesting really. When I was younger, after traveling abroad and going on trips to DC with young people from around the world, experiencing the death of grandparents; there was a period when I was obsessed with the Holocaust specifically and questions about life and death in general. We had an old family Bible and I began reading it at night, thinking this unfamiliar territory would be a place to find answers. I got about half way through and stopped. It wasn’t that I found it particularly loathsome with all the begats and such, more that it didn’t seem to apply to me, nor answer my questions (many of which I hadn’t yet articulated at that time). In college I almost minored in religion, and especially found myself drawn to early Jewish history, using the Torah. I discovered that approaching the Bible/Old Testament as a historical document gave it new life and relevance to me. It opened doors for me to see the complicated web that lies at the heart of the complex web of relationships that exist between Jewish, Christian and Muslim people, giving so much in the way of context to the wars and other world history I had learned thus far. At this point in my life, I hunger for more of that historical context, having found it has enriched my understanding of the world – past, present and future. But without the luxury of a teacher in a classroom, I find the book itself a cold place to start on this journey of learning. The more I know about the Bible, the more I see how it permeates every aspect of our life and culture, whether people are aware of it or not.
Secular Woman #3
Although my family was not religious, I went to a Catholic school from 1st to 8th grade (Christ the King), and then a Jesuit highschool (Seattle Prep) and college (Seattle U). My mom sent me to Catholic school because she thought the education was better and she was scared of the bussing that was taking place at the public schools at the time. At CKS we had a religion period where we'd study the Bible and Catholic beliefs, and we'd go to mass on holidays. At Prep we continued learning about the Bible, but also learned about other religions. At SU I had to take a couple religion classes, but you didn't have to participate in the religious aspect of the school much at all if you didn't want to. At CKS, learning about the Bible at school (Religion class) seemed totally normal – just like any other class. You weren’t really pressured to believe it, and actually probably half of the students weren’t Catholic anyway. I enjoyed learning about it and pretty much believed everything I was taught. I didn’t really question it much, and my parents were very easygoing and open about different religions. I became very good friends with a Catholic girl in my class in 2nd grade, and started going to church with her family some Sundays. I really enjoyed it and felt like my family should be going to church too. In 4th grade I convinced my parents to join the Catholic church. My parents took the classes and we all got baptized and confirmed. In highschool I started questioning whether I really accepted the Catholic beliefs, and by college I convinced my self that I could stop going to church without fearing that I’d go to hell. Now I just believe there’s some being or energy that is much greater than us, that probably created Earth and the universe, but I don’t claim to have any further understanding than that. With all the different religions in the world, and everyone believing their religion is the right one, we can’t all be right, so I’ve concluded that we just don’t know. I’d like to know, and intend to work more on my spirituality in the future, but I am not convinced that I will ever truly believe in one theory or set of religious beliefs. I like to just leave it at this: we are the ants of the universe. Hah! Anyway, sorry, the Bible. I have issues separating what I learned of the Bible from the Catholic teachings. I sort of just viewed it as one of my textbooks. I never felt compelled to make myself read the whole thing, only what we were assigned to read and interpret for class. Since then, I have determined that I am extremely skeptical of the Bible. I think people take it too literally, and I don’t think we can believe that it comes from reliable sources. I’ve never been convinced that people didn’t just make it up for whatever reason.
Secular Woman #4
I went to Catholic gradeschool and Jesuit high school and college so the Bible was a keystone in my education growing up.
(Religious) Woman #1
I grew up in an unprogrammed meeting, and we definitely read parts of the Bible during Sunday school, though I don’t remember a lot.
(Religious) Woman #2
I was raised without any formal religious background, but attended a Jesuit college where one brief survey (“Introduction to the Hebrew Bible,” I think) was required for my core humanities curriculum. In the fall of 2007, after some intriguing and challenging conversations with Christian friends, I began attending a Christian church, and soon after a small house church/bible study group on a weekly basis. Over the past year, I’ve read through the Old and New Testaments once, but still feel like I’m skimming the surface.
Secular Man #1
I was raised by fairly Universalist Quakers and I attended meeting and went to Sunday school begrudgingly until my parents got sick of fighting with me about it, which was about age 9, I think. My high school taught Genesis as literature, so that was probably the most seriously I have studied it. Other than that, I read the Cartoon History of the Universe a few times, which covered some of the aspects of the old and new testaments that have some basis in history. I'm dead serious.
Question #2
What is your opinion of the Bible?
Secular Woman #1
I think it is rather interesting as a social commentary, a snapshot in time. There’s a lot of content in the bible and I wish people would look at it holistically and not pick and choose which verses to adhere to and which to ignore.
Secular Woman #2
I think it was a book written by a group of men for mainly political and probably some religious (got to give them a little benefit of the doubt!) reasons. I think many of the events actually occurred and were worth documenting, but that what we have is just one version of reality, not the Truth. I also think it had some great practical applications in its day, especially in regards to rules for cleanliness – like don’t eat pork, not because it’s unholy, but because you could die. This of course, is quite the modern spin on my part. And I think it should be read with a modern spin. To say things like stoning women for adultery are ok punishments is ridiculous, as are many of the stories and passages, especially those that relate to women. I think it’s unfortunate that the Bible has been used as a weapon so often. Like the Torah and the Koran, it’s something that weak men can hide behind to justify their desires and goals. It has the potential to be both terrible and beautiful.
Secular Woman #3
I answered this one above.
Secular Woman #4
It is document capturing written stories of God and Jesus.
(Religious) Woman #1
That is an amazing and holy book. I would like to read more of the Old Testament.
(Religious) Woman #2
I’m still trying to figure that out. I believe it is true, and sacred, and that the question of whether to “take it literally” or “interpret it” is a false dichotomy. I’m troubled by many individual passages, but I’m not willing to reject the scriptures because of that. I know I have a lifetime of study ahead of me.
Secular Man #1
I think of it as allegory, along the lines of Beowulf, The Iliad or Huckleberry Finn. As literature, I think there is a certain "truth" to it, not factual truth, but truth in the sense of understanding human nature and morality. As literature, it provides a way of understanding the era during which it was written as well as those who wrote or translated it. I don't believe it is the Word of God and I'm a little frightened by anyone who views it as such. I consider myself a devout agnostic.
Question #3
Name as many Biblical women as you can.
Secular Woman #1
Sarah, Ruth, Esther, Hagar, Mary Magdelene and Mary, mother of Jesus. I don’t remember the names, but I recall a fair number of stories of prostitutes and a few about witches.
Secular Woman #2
Ruth, Mary, Jezebel, Eve, Hagar, Sarah, Rebecca – I know I know more, but can’t remember off the top of my head.
Secular Woman #3
Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, Eve, and Jezebel. Oh dear, I can’t believe I’m not remembering more!
Secular Woman #4
Mary, Mary
(Religious) Woman #1
Abigail is the only one that is coming to mind.
(Religious) Woman #2
Eve, Rachel, Rebekah, Job’s wife J, Sarah, Hagar, Rizpah, Queen of Sheba, Ruth, Esther, Jezebel, Bathsheba,…
Secular Man #1
Eve, Sarah (Jacob's wife, Joseph's mother, I think), Rachel (one of Jacob's other wives, I think) Mary (Jesus' Mom), Bathsheeba, Delilah, Mary Magdelene (sp?). There are others I can't name, except by reference to the story they are in, Lot's wife and daughters, or the two women who were fighting over the baby, which Solomon cutting in half for example.
Question #4
Pick one woman from the list above and tell me as much as you can about her.
Secular Woman #1
Let’s see, how about Sarah. Is there an H? I can’t remember. I think Sarah was the wife of Abraham and through a blessing from the covenant with God, they conceived many children even though both were very old and past traditional child bearing age. I think this is the section of the bible where folks are living into hundreds of years…I recall most of the story really being about the children she bore. I think she might also be the mother of Isaac, who Abraham was asked to kill as a show of loyalty to God. I always wondered if she knew about what a close call that was and how it made her feel….
Secular Woman #2
Ruth, as I recall, was married off to an older man she didn’t know. All I seem to remember is that she suffered and was considered pious because of her good service to her husband. The stories about women seem to tend to be focused on punishments for immorality, like Jezebel. They also tend to be shorter and really, when you strip them down, about the men. Even when they’re the subject of a story, the women are still on the periphery.
Secular Woman #3
Mother Mary was the mother of Jesus. She had immaculate conception. Her husband was Joseph. She wore blue garments/veils/robes. Oh dear, that’s all I can remember.
Secular Woman #4
Not hard since I can't name many off hand. Mary (not Jesus' mother) was a prostitute that Jesus met at a well and befriended. It's not mentioned in the Bible but I have heard from other sources that perhaps Jesus and Mary were actually married.
(Religious) Woman #1
This is sad to me. My mother actually marked sections of the Old Testament that were about women and I haven’t gone back to it in years. Reading the Bible is not a part of my spiritual practice.
(Religious) Woman #2
David had Rizpah’s (don’t known if I’m spelling that right) sons put to death, and she camped out on the mountain, defending their bodies from scavengers. David heard of it, and had the bodies rightfully buried. I kind of think she was one of Saul’s wives, but I really don’t know.
Secular Man #1
Mary Magdelene was I believe one of Jesus' followers and confidants and I'm guessing she would have been considered a disciple by any modern standard. I seem to recall she had been a prostitute, or something to that effect, I think there is some evidence that she and Jesus liked each other "that way" and possibly even had a child together.
Question #5
In your opinion, how much of what you told me about the woman in question #4 is actually in the Bible? How much do you think is simply cultural tradition?
Secular Woman #1
I am not sure if that’s one of the stories that made it into pop culture. The Abraham/Isaac versions did, but I think only folks more acquainted with the text really know who she is.
Secular Woman #2
It’s funny, I suppose most people would have chosen Mary or Eve for question #4, but I didn’t specifically because what I remember about them isn’t from the Bible. Also my middle name is Ruth, so I’m drawn to her as a result. But in our Judeo Christian society, people are bound to have some thoughts and feelings and notions about characters from the Bible. Whether those thoughts, feelings and notions are based in what the Bible actually says is a different story entirely.
Secular Woman #3
I bet the Bible doesn’t specify that she wore blue garments/veils/robes.
Secular Woman #4
Half and half.
(Religious) Woman #1
Left it blank.
(Religious) Woman #2
I think most of that is in the Bible, and very little (if any) made it into the mainstream culture I’m familiar with.
Secular Man #1
Probably only the first part, at least in the version of the bible that became the standard. I think the Gospel of Thomas has some reference to the latter part and possibly some others that were left out of the official version of things.
Question #6
Do you have any particular connection with a biblical woman? If yes, how and why?
Secular Woman #1
Not particularly.
Secular Woman #2
As I said above, Ruth is my middle name. But I think of that as more of a family name, as I was named after my great grandmother. A more interesting connection is mine with Jezebel. My name is Jessica, and in my non-religious family, an early childhood nickname my grandfather started (Jessie-bell I believe. I had a habit of calling everything Jessie-something) morphed into me being called Jezebel. It was an endearing, nice thing to us. And I honestly felt like the bell of the ball, special, when it was used. But coming into contact with the Bible story as a young adult, and learning what a “jezebel” is, we stopped calling me that as a family. I’ve always been a little sad about it, like a loss of innocence. It’s a cliché, but what’s really in a name? And why does the Bible’s version of what that name entails trump years of family history and connotation?
Secular Woman #3
No, I wouldn’t say so.
Secular Woman #4
No.
(Religious) Woman #1
Left it blank.
(Religious) Woman #2
In high school, I was in the play J.B., which was described as “a modern retelling of the Book of Job.” I was cast as Sarah, who was the Job (J.B.) character’s wife. My director told me that, in addition to my acting skill, he picked me because of “my pensive bone structure,” which gives you an idea of most of my role. I also said “Curse God and die” a few times. I don’t think the part I played has much connection with the Bible, but the fact that Job’s wife is barely in the Bible is interesting in itself.
Secular Man #1
I think that Mary Madgelene is the one I identify with, really even if I'm only identifying with the "heretical" version of her. She seems more human to me, a little rougher around the edges, more complicated and more independent minded.
Question #7
Under what circumstances would you be interested in participating in a Bible study about biblical women?
Secular Woman #1
I find I am not interested in being guided towards a preconceived conclusion about the bible or what it says. I enjoy exploring the narrative and discussing it in a literary fashion, and then drawing conclusions from the compelling dialogue presented.
Secular Woman #2
Well, I may be a bit odd, but I think I would jump at the chance for something that was set up like a book club, could be in person or virtual. A social gathering to discuss openly the roles of women in the Bible and what those roles have translated into in “real” life. By this I mean to say, where were we pigeon-holed and have we really broken out of those assigned roles? Even as CEOs and Presidential candidates aren’t we always viewed with the standards set out in the Bible in mind? “How dare she run for office (or be CEO) with all those children” “She’s too weak to make the tough decisions” or if not “she acts like a man”. Or "she played the gender card by crying so we would all feel sorry fo her". How much of our gender roles are a direct result of what the Bible has told us? Conversely “boys will be boys” but girls better be careful or “who will buy the cow?”. Last I checked, I’m not livestock, but in the Bible, I am the property of my father, uncle, brother, even son - just like the livestock. Is this really the message we want to send to our daughters? Honestly, it makes me angry. I think the key to my relationship with the Bible is in treating it like a historical document, not like sacred text. Within those parameters, everyone is welcome and the conversation can be more rich and multi-directional in my opinion. Starting out with the Truth makes it hard to go anywhere else.
Secular Woman #3
I suppose I’d be interested if the focus were something other than it just being a part of Sunday school or something. I suppose a Bible study about biblical women would be the most interesting focus for a Bible study that I can think of. I might do it if an outside party convinced me that it would be a good and fun use of my time, other than trying to convert me.
Secular Woman #4
Maybe if it was an activity I could share with my female friends.
(Religious) Woman #1
I would really enjoy participating in a Bible study about biblical women if everyone was open and excited to discuss what we read. I would probably prefer if it was all women. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more helpful. It does sadden me that I identify as such a feminist but don’t know much about women in the Bible. It’s also an illustration of how the Bible has not been a central part of my religious upbringing. I’ve been saying for a while that I want to begin to read more. Maybe this will give me a kick in the pants to actually do it.
(Religious) Woman #2
Pretty much any circumstance. Could you come to Seattle? ☺
Secular Man #1
It could be interesting, but it isn't really something I'd seek out. I might do it with a girlfriend in exchange for getting to watch 8 hours of football on Sundays without complaint or to impress a girl I was interested in. Even then, I'd have to have reasonable assurance that the discussion wasn't being led by someone who would be using it as an opportunity to proselytize.
Showing posts with label Academic Paper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academic Paper. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Jacob Wrestles with God
This was my final paper for Bible Violence and Nonviolence. I loved writing it! I am sort of falling in love with the crazy, crazy book that is the Bible.
A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (Before Research)
The Basic Story:
Just after leaving his father-in-law Laban’s household and right before being reunited with his brother Esau, Jacob sent everyone away and sequestered himself in solitude. Once alone, he was confronted by a man, whom he wrestled with until daybreak. Their physical strength was well matched, for there was no clear victor in the battle. The unidentified man, upon realizing that he was unable to physically beat Jacob, resorted to cheaters tactics and struck Jacob on the hip socket. As they continued to wrestle, Jacob’s hip was put out of joint. (In remembering this story, I have often though that the man put Jacob’s hip out of place directly, but in my recent reading I have come to realize that the man only set the stage for the injury, he didn’t directly cause the injury. This is a subtle distinction, but one that is worth noting.) The man asked to be released at dawn, apparently unable to leave on his own even though Jacob was injured. Jacob, clearly in control at this point, refused to let go unless the man blessed him. This is a perplexing request. I would think Jacob would have gladly let the man go so that he could rest and care for his hip. The man responded to the request for blessing by asking Jacob’s name, which Jacob told him. This was the first time the issue of identity was raised between these two men. In an effort to take control, the man changed Jacob’s name to Israel and explained that Jacob had wrestled with God and humans, but had prevailed. At this point, I’m still unsure who the ‘man’ is. Is he God or is he human? He’s called a man, but how would he know that Jacob had wrestled with God if he wasn’t himself God? And why would a man have the power to change Jacob’s name? At this point in the story, Jacob is thinking the same thing and asks the man for his name. The man asks Jacob, in what sounds like a sarcastic tone, why Jacob would ask this question. Skipping over the second request, the man grants Jacob his first request and blesses him. Jacob then, unable to name or know the name of the man, names the place. At this point it is clear that Jacob believes the man to have been God for he says that he has seen God face-to-face and lived. The story ends with Jacob walking away into the sunrise—with a limp.
Jacob’s Personal Story:
When I read this story in it’s biblical context I see the unfolding of a family drama. Jacob refused to give Esau hospitality, but instead forced him to trade his birthright for food. Then Jacob schemed with his mother to steal his brother’s blessing. He directly and knowingly lied to his ailing father and received his blessing under false pretense. He then fled his homeland and stayed away for twenty years. Understandably, he was terrified of how Esau would react to his return. Esau, however, was capable of greater forgiveness and generosity. He came to meet Jacob in love. Jacob was unable to trust this love and did everything he could to ply Esau with gifts and send him away. In the context of the full stories of Isaac and his sons, I interpret the story of Jacob’s night of fighting in a specific way. It seems clear that Jacob was fearfully wrestling with the demons of his past behavior as he prepared to return to the land of his father.
The Universal Story:
When I read the story in isolation of it’s surrounding stories, however, I understand it in a completely different way. I see a metaphor for the spiritual life. It’s a story of two men fighting, so I initially feel left on the outside of the action. But as I focus on the issues involved in the story, I am able to move beyond the two characters and see what they represent. Which for me is humanity and the unknowable mystery of life. In the first two verses, the narrator sets up the story and gives a lot of information. We learn that Jacob is alone and suddenly wrestling with another man. The transition between these two descriptions leaves me with several questions. Where did the man come from? Who is he? Why did he attack Jacob? This odd transition filled with gaps causes me to assume that the narrator wanted me to be confused. He (I assume the narrator was male) wanted me to feel the mysterious quality of this story immediately. I believe that the mysterious facts of existence and death do come upon humans abruptly. I believe that at certain points in life, humans can become overwhelmed with confusion about the reason for and meaning of life. Just as Jacob, who in a moment of solitude was forced into a holy war of questions, everyone is blindsided with big questions at some point.
Not only is there struggle, there is injury. This is the most confusing aspect of these verses for me. The fact that injury came through deep struggle and questioning makes sense, but the cause of injury is perplexing. The man, who I view as an unknowable mystery, is losing the fight and so strikes Jacob, or humanity. This section makes me think of the Tower of Babel. As humans came too close to the heavens, the Lord scattered and confused them. It is the same here, as humanity prevails against mystery, mystery causes injury against humanity. This is difficult for me. I don’t believe humanity can understand the unknowable, so these stories of the Divine feeling threatened and needing to slow human progress make me curious. The next verse is also odd. The ‘man’ speaks and asks to be let go. Why on earth can’t he just leave as quickly and mysteriously as he arrived? What control does ‘humanity’ have over him?
At this point in the story, Jacob finally speaks. He holds the man captive and demands a blessing. Unlike the past few verses, this one makes complete sense to me. Human beings are constantly trying to hold mystery captive, to lock it down, define it and force blessings out of it. The question Jacob is asked in response to this demand is also perfect, “What is your name?” I read, “who are you? What is your essential identity? Do you know yourself?” I hear mystery asking, “if you humans want to understand life’s biggest mysteries, you should start by examining yourselves.”
Of course, as we examine ourselves in light of the world’s biggest questions, we will be unable to remain the same. We will change. Our identity and our understanding of everything will change. The man understands this and changes Jacob’s name to Israel. He makes the bold claim that Jacob has striven with God and humans and has survived. Therefore, he is no longer Jacob. His essential identity is changed. In response, Jacob (curiously not referred to as Israel until Genesis 35:21, even though God changes his name a second time to Israel in 35:10) asks for the man’s name. This verse is another that makes sense to me. All of human striving towards anything spiritual or religious is an effort to follow Jacob in this question. We want to know the unknowable name. Of course, it can’t be known and the man mocks Jacob for even asking. In the same breath, however, he seems to take pity and offers Jacob his longed for blessing.
At this point, the man disappears from the story. We are not given details as to why or how he leaves. He’s just gone. We are also not given any details about the actual blessing. The last two verses contain information from the narrator as well as a grand proclamation from Jacob. The narrator tells us that Jacob gave the place a new name, that the sun rose and that Jacob was still injured. Jacob tells us that he has seen God face to face and has survived. There is much to be gleaned from these pieces of information. Jacob imitated the man’s act of renaming, the man left before sunrise just as he said he needed to and even though Jacob received a blessing, he still walked away limping. From Jacob’s claim I assume we are to understand the man to be God. But I am still skeptical. If he had actually looked true mystery in the face, I don’t believe he could have survived. Just as the Tower of Babel was scattered and Jacob’s hip was struck, I don’t think mystery will ever allow humanity the understanding of a face to face encounter. But clearly, Jacob got close. And in the process he was injured, blessed and changed. And then the dawn broke.
A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (After Research)
In order to study Genesis 32 particularly, the character of Jacob must be studied generally. This seems unavoidable. I was drawn to one small episode in his life—his long night of wrestling—but have been pulled into his fuller story. People have been captivated by Jacob for millennia. He is a full character whose life is portrayed from birth to death in the Genesis narrative and whose name is remembered throughout almost all of scripture. A close reading of the stories of Jacob’s life reveal that he was a complex man, full of manipulation and egocentricities. Even before his birth, the Lord was making proclamations of his divisiveness. He came from the womb grasping for his brother’s heel and was given a name that means ‘he takes by the heel’, ‘he supplants’ or even ‘he’s grabby’. Jacob grabbed his brother’s heel in birth and continued to fight with him throughout adolescence. He fought with Laban for twenty years. And for one night he fought with an unidentified man.
The mysterious night angle that wrestled with Jacob is often assumed to be his own inner demons. Jacob was fighting with himself. This theory makes sense. After two decades Jacob was going home. But his brother (the one from whom he stole birthright and blessing) was coming to meet him—with four hundred men. It’s easy to believe that Jacob was terrified, racked with guilt and overcome with nightmares. Norman Cohen offers a modern day midrash on the story in which there is no mystery man. He understands the entire episode to have been a vision. This is acceptable speculation, for the Hebrew text reveals no concrete answer. In The New interpreter’s Bible, however, the speculation is removed. While Terence E. Fretheim believes that the narrator delays in identifying the assailant, he believes readers can figure it out. “Initially, he appears only as a “man” [but]…the reader gradually comes to realize that this is no ordinary assailant; it is God in human form” (NIB 565). I marvel at this sort of certainty. Throughout the various commentaries I read, it seems the people who come to this conclusion rely on two things, verses 28 and 30. The Hebrew word that is used in these verses and translated as God is ‘elohim, which “is a high concentration point of lexical ambiguity” (Alter 182). Alter claims that ‘elohim does not mean “divine messenger” but can refer to divine beings. He goes on to say that it could mean God, gods or even princes or judges (Alter 182). In this context, it seems clearly connected to divinity, but there is no way of knowing whether it is singular or plural. There is also no way of knowing whether the mysterious man is using the word to reference himself or if he’s speaking to other parts of Jacob’s life. The certainty found in The New Interpreters Bible seems a little over zealous. Fretheim claims that most ancient and modern readers would assume the man to be God from the beginning and he therefore works from that assumption throughout his commentary. I respectfully disagree and will work in my commentary from the assumption that the man remains mysterious. We will never know his identity for sure.
We do, however, know something of his actions—he injured Jacob. I am always surprised by how violent verse 25 seems considering it comes in the middle of an already violent scene—two men fighting. Exactly how the man injured Jacob is ambiguous. The man did something to Jacob’s hip, either ‘touched’ it (NIV) or ‘struck’ it (NRSV). These words have very different connotations. According to Alter “struck is unwarranted…the adversary maims Jacob with a magic touch, or, if one prefers, by skillful pressure on a pressure point” (Alter 181). According to Fretheim, however, “struck is truer to the context…though both translations are possible” (NIB 566). We are again left with uncertainty, we simply don’t know. Schneir Levin focuses on a different word dispute in his wonderings about the actual injury. The NRSV translates the beginning of verse 25 as “When the man saw that he did not prevail against him.” Levin says that the Hebrew actually reads “and when he saw that he was not able to…him” (Levin 326). He says that translators are inferring the word prevail. Levin thinks the word should be castrate. He believes that the mysterious man is none other than Esau. He writes “What else could [Jacob] dream about than Esau taking his life or the ultimate humiliation of castration?” (Levin 326). Levin quotes several doctors who all agree that Jacob’s hip could not have been put out of joint because he would not have been able to walk away from the scene:
But there is another surgical possibility, the obvious one, the common one, which in predisposed males—that is, males with a potentially open passage from the abdomen through the groin and into the scrotum—can result in a hernia in the groin, most often on the right side, and as a consequence of increased intra-abdominal pressure during the course of a worrying dream. Such a rupture, a hernia, is often sufficiently uncomfortable, when it occurs to result in a temporary limp. (Levin 327).
This is a creative and fascinating idea. Levine began this study by looking at the Hebrew word takya which is translated as “put out of joint” in the NRSV. Levin would like to see it translated as ruptured. While I admire Levin’s creativity, I would be disappointed to think of Jacob’s injury as temporary. I know that sounds harsh, but in a literary sense Jacob’s limp needs to be permanent. He was forever changed after his mysterious encounter. All of these word studies: struck/touched, put-of-joint/ruptured, prevailed/ castrated have helped me to consider this odd scene of violence in more creative, nuanced and ambiguous ways.
Verse 26 leaves the tale of the narrator and allows the two characters to use their own voices. The first utterance from each man is a demand. First the mysterious man asks to be let go because the dawn is coming. This is curious; why must he leave before daybreak? This element is a wonderful literary device that supports the mysterious quality of the story. This man must stay under the cover of darkness. In a study on the character of God in Genesis, W. Lee Humphreys asks intriguing questions about the man’s demand. He ponders four options for why he must leave before dawn. Either he can’t stand the light of day or he’s not supposed to be seen during the day. Or maybe his power is only effective during the night. Another possibility is that his power would be too overwhelming if seen in the light of day. All of these speculations are valid and lead Humphreys to the conclusion that the man must be more than a mere human (Humphreys 194). Claus Westermann, in a comprehensive reading of the man’s character in the story determines that he fits the profile of an evil spirit or demon. The man attacks suddenly and surprisingly, refuses to identify himself and must escape before he can been seen in the light (Westermann 516). The obvious parallels between the mysterious man and night spirits in fairy tales and folklore deserve to be mentioned. Several scholars raise this point. Westermann writes:
The basic narrative…bears distinct animistic traits and is not to be dissociated from the region, the ford, the river. The danger of the ford is personified in the spirit or demon who does not want to let the traveler cross the river and attacks him so as to prevent him doing so. This accords neither with the religion of Israel nor with that of the patriarchs, but with animistic belief in spirits or demons and has parallels among many people. (Westermann 515)
The story of two men wrestling in the night is more than likely an ancient folktale that has been made over and used in the Genesis account as a hinge between two sides of Jacob’s life. All of this contributes to our inability to concretely identify the man. He doesn’t want to be brought into the light. Jacob, however, doesn’t care what the man wants (and why should he, the man has attacked and injured him). Jacob’s first words in the narrative are a refusal and a demand for blessing. Walter Brueggemann reminds us that “since chapter 27, we have known [Jacob] would do anything to get a blessing [and] now he seeks a more weighty [one]” (Brueggemann 268). This is a point I hadn’t thought of, but it seems completely right. It portrays Jacob as an insecure man constantly looking for validation. It’s sadly comical to think of poor Jacob searching for blessing from a violent stranger. It seems he’ll take it wherever he can get it.
Verse 26 seems to be a transition between physical and verbal wrestling. The next three verses become solely a match of words and wit. Jacob and the man begin to struggle with issues of identity. They each ask for the other’s name. Jacob gives his quickly, but is mocked for asking the same of the man. The man, while not identifying who he is, clearly understands himself to be someone of authority. Placed in the very center of this story (and in between the two requests for names), is Jacob’s name change. I can’t imagine that the placement of this action is accidental. The name/identity change is the point of the story and there are several reasons why it’s important and unique. Abram was changed into Abraham in conjunction with his being called the ancestor of a multitude of generations and he is never again referred to as Abram. Jacob’s name was changed twice, but he continues to be called Jacob. His new name, Israel, becomes a synonym or metaphor for Jacob’s identity or role in the community. The second reference to Jacob’s new name happens in Genesis 35:10-11 and more closely resembles Abraham’s experience. The first reference, the one of concern in this essay, happens as a result of Jacob’s continued struggles. There are significant theological reasons for the change. Alter writes:
Of all the patriarchs Jacob is the one whose life is entangled in moral ambiguities. Rashi beautifully catches the resonance of the name change: ‘it will no longer be said that the blessings came to you through deviousness…but instead through lordliness…and openness.’ (Alter 182)
Jacob’s identity as the father of great nations and kings is important and was in need of transformation. It is much more attractive to be descended from someone named for godliness rather than grabbiness.
After Jacob receives his new name, the story begins to wind down. The wrestling match is coming to a close and there is no clear victor. Both men have won at various points. The man could not win physically and so injured Jacob. He couldn’t free himself before dawn, but he is never forced to reveal his identity and he has the power to change the identity of Jacob. Jacob, although taken by surprise, was able to physically dominate the man even after sustaining an injury. Jacob asks for two things throughout the battle, but is only granted one. He is not allowed to know the man’s name, but he does receive his longed for blessing; a blessing he didn’t have to lie to get.
Whoever the mystery man is—one of Jacob’s personal demons, a representation of Esau, an angel, a river spirit, God, or something else—he is able to bless Jacob. And because of this, Jacob is changed. Walter Brueggemann, working from the assumption that the man is God writes:
Something happens in this transaction that is irreversible…Power has shifted between God and humankind. Israel is the one who has faced God, been touched by God, prevailed, gained a blessing, and been renamed. There is something new underway here about the weakness of God and the strength of Israel. The encounter will not permit a neat summary of roles, as though God is strong and Jacob is weak, or as though things are reversed with Jacob strong and God weak. All of that remains unsettled. But new possibilities are open to Israel that have not been available before. In the giving of the blessing, something of the power of God has been entrusted to Israel. (Brueggemann 269)
While I disagree with Brueggemann’s assumption of the man’s identity, I am still compelled by his conception of Jacob’s transformation. Jacob is returning to a home he fled two decades ago after stealing the blessing of his brother. He is scared and guilty. Through this mysterious encounter, however, he is built up. He is given his own blessing. He still had to fight for it, ask for it and suffer for it, but it belonged to him and no one could take it away or claim that he stole it. As Brueggemann claimed above, the power dynamic had changed.
This change is not lost on Jacob. He claims a new identity for himself and the place of his transformation. The ending of this story is beautiful; Jacob felt a divine presence in a way not many people get to and he celebrates it. He claims to have seen God face to face. The Hebrew term ‘elohim is used again and it’s impossible to know for sure who Jacob thought he saw, but it was clearly someone important. Someone so powerful that Jacob is amazed to have survived it. Following in the footsteps of Hagar at the well, he renamed the place Peniel, a name that builds on panim ‘el panim which literally means face to face, he wasn’t trying to hide his experience of the mysterious encounter (Alter 183). The last verse tells us that the story is complete; the sun rose and the night was over. Alter highlights the symmetry of this ending (Alter 183). As Jacob was fleeing home twenty years ago, the sun set on him, “He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set” (Genesis 28:11). And now he walked towards home through the sunrise. “The encounter with the unfathomable Other [left] a lasting mark on [him]…and he [bore] his inward scars as he [lived] onward” (Alter 183). In other words, the man with a history now had a future. Jacob’s dark night had lifted and he was limping triumphantly towards home.
Conclusion (After Reflection and Research)
In all of my study, I never came across an interpretation of this story as a metaphor for the spiritual journey. Robert Alter referred to the mysterious man as an “embodiment of portentous antagonism in Jacob’s dark night of the soul” (Alter 181). But that’s as close as I got. Before beginning this study, I believed my understanding to be common, I worried I was being too obvious. But unless I missed something, this story is always read as the hinge point in the middle of Jacob’s life. It’s understood as his conversion or transformation. The identity of the mystery man is something people have dwelled on for thousands of years. He is often thought to embody Esau, but many commentators just assume the man is God and work from there. Others, refuse to solve the mystery cleanly and allow the ambiguity to stand. As I stated in my original reflection on the text, I see the story of family drama. I see the moment of fear before returning home. It’s a grand story and I understand why it has captivated so many people for so incredibly long. But I leave this work more intrigued by what appears to be lacking in scholarship on this story and what I believe to be a fruitful reading. Human beings will always want to name the unnamable. Humanity has always and more than likely always will wrestle with conceptions of divinity. In this story I find a model for the struggle. As I fight with the unknown, I suffer. I refuse to let go and I want to be blessed. Everything about who I am is called into question and I am changed, yet I am never allowed to know who or what I fight with. At various points I am injured and at others I am blessed. I carry all of this with me and in the morning sun, I am made new.
(Let me know if you would like the bibliography.)
A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (Before Research)
The Basic Story:
Just after leaving his father-in-law Laban’s household and right before being reunited with his brother Esau, Jacob sent everyone away and sequestered himself in solitude. Once alone, he was confronted by a man, whom he wrestled with until daybreak. Their physical strength was well matched, for there was no clear victor in the battle. The unidentified man, upon realizing that he was unable to physically beat Jacob, resorted to cheaters tactics and struck Jacob on the hip socket. As they continued to wrestle, Jacob’s hip was put out of joint. (In remembering this story, I have often though that the man put Jacob’s hip out of place directly, but in my recent reading I have come to realize that the man only set the stage for the injury, he didn’t directly cause the injury. This is a subtle distinction, but one that is worth noting.) The man asked to be released at dawn, apparently unable to leave on his own even though Jacob was injured. Jacob, clearly in control at this point, refused to let go unless the man blessed him. This is a perplexing request. I would think Jacob would have gladly let the man go so that he could rest and care for his hip. The man responded to the request for blessing by asking Jacob’s name, which Jacob told him. This was the first time the issue of identity was raised between these two men. In an effort to take control, the man changed Jacob’s name to Israel and explained that Jacob had wrestled with God and humans, but had prevailed. At this point, I’m still unsure who the ‘man’ is. Is he God or is he human? He’s called a man, but how would he know that Jacob had wrestled with God if he wasn’t himself God? And why would a man have the power to change Jacob’s name? At this point in the story, Jacob is thinking the same thing and asks the man for his name. The man asks Jacob, in what sounds like a sarcastic tone, why Jacob would ask this question. Skipping over the second request, the man grants Jacob his first request and blesses him. Jacob then, unable to name or know the name of the man, names the place. At this point it is clear that Jacob believes the man to have been God for he says that he has seen God face-to-face and lived. The story ends with Jacob walking away into the sunrise—with a limp.
Jacob’s Personal Story:
When I read this story in it’s biblical context I see the unfolding of a family drama. Jacob refused to give Esau hospitality, but instead forced him to trade his birthright for food. Then Jacob schemed with his mother to steal his brother’s blessing. He directly and knowingly lied to his ailing father and received his blessing under false pretense. He then fled his homeland and stayed away for twenty years. Understandably, he was terrified of how Esau would react to his return. Esau, however, was capable of greater forgiveness and generosity. He came to meet Jacob in love. Jacob was unable to trust this love and did everything he could to ply Esau with gifts and send him away. In the context of the full stories of Isaac and his sons, I interpret the story of Jacob’s night of fighting in a specific way. It seems clear that Jacob was fearfully wrestling with the demons of his past behavior as he prepared to return to the land of his father.
The Universal Story:
When I read the story in isolation of it’s surrounding stories, however, I understand it in a completely different way. I see a metaphor for the spiritual life. It’s a story of two men fighting, so I initially feel left on the outside of the action. But as I focus on the issues involved in the story, I am able to move beyond the two characters and see what they represent. Which for me is humanity and the unknowable mystery of life. In the first two verses, the narrator sets up the story and gives a lot of information. We learn that Jacob is alone and suddenly wrestling with another man. The transition between these two descriptions leaves me with several questions. Where did the man come from? Who is he? Why did he attack Jacob? This odd transition filled with gaps causes me to assume that the narrator wanted me to be confused. He (I assume the narrator was male) wanted me to feel the mysterious quality of this story immediately. I believe that the mysterious facts of existence and death do come upon humans abruptly. I believe that at certain points in life, humans can become overwhelmed with confusion about the reason for and meaning of life. Just as Jacob, who in a moment of solitude was forced into a holy war of questions, everyone is blindsided with big questions at some point.
Not only is there struggle, there is injury. This is the most confusing aspect of these verses for me. The fact that injury came through deep struggle and questioning makes sense, but the cause of injury is perplexing. The man, who I view as an unknowable mystery, is losing the fight and so strikes Jacob, or humanity. This section makes me think of the Tower of Babel. As humans came too close to the heavens, the Lord scattered and confused them. It is the same here, as humanity prevails against mystery, mystery causes injury against humanity. This is difficult for me. I don’t believe humanity can understand the unknowable, so these stories of the Divine feeling threatened and needing to slow human progress make me curious. The next verse is also odd. The ‘man’ speaks and asks to be let go. Why on earth can’t he just leave as quickly and mysteriously as he arrived? What control does ‘humanity’ have over him?
At this point in the story, Jacob finally speaks. He holds the man captive and demands a blessing. Unlike the past few verses, this one makes complete sense to me. Human beings are constantly trying to hold mystery captive, to lock it down, define it and force blessings out of it. The question Jacob is asked in response to this demand is also perfect, “What is your name?” I read, “who are you? What is your essential identity? Do you know yourself?” I hear mystery asking, “if you humans want to understand life’s biggest mysteries, you should start by examining yourselves.”
Of course, as we examine ourselves in light of the world’s biggest questions, we will be unable to remain the same. We will change. Our identity and our understanding of everything will change. The man understands this and changes Jacob’s name to Israel. He makes the bold claim that Jacob has striven with God and humans and has survived. Therefore, he is no longer Jacob. His essential identity is changed. In response, Jacob (curiously not referred to as Israel until Genesis 35:21, even though God changes his name a second time to Israel in 35:10) asks for the man’s name. This verse is another that makes sense to me. All of human striving towards anything spiritual or religious is an effort to follow Jacob in this question. We want to know the unknowable name. Of course, it can’t be known and the man mocks Jacob for even asking. In the same breath, however, he seems to take pity and offers Jacob his longed for blessing.
At this point, the man disappears from the story. We are not given details as to why or how he leaves. He’s just gone. We are also not given any details about the actual blessing. The last two verses contain information from the narrator as well as a grand proclamation from Jacob. The narrator tells us that Jacob gave the place a new name, that the sun rose and that Jacob was still injured. Jacob tells us that he has seen God face to face and has survived. There is much to be gleaned from these pieces of information. Jacob imitated the man’s act of renaming, the man left before sunrise just as he said he needed to and even though Jacob received a blessing, he still walked away limping. From Jacob’s claim I assume we are to understand the man to be God. But I am still skeptical. If he had actually looked true mystery in the face, I don’t believe he could have survived. Just as the Tower of Babel was scattered and Jacob’s hip was struck, I don’t think mystery will ever allow humanity the understanding of a face to face encounter. But clearly, Jacob got close. And in the process he was injured, blessed and changed. And then the dawn broke.
A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (After Research)
In order to study Genesis 32 particularly, the character of Jacob must be studied generally. This seems unavoidable. I was drawn to one small episode in his life—his long night of wrestling—but have been pulled into his fuller story. People have been captivated by Jacob for millennia. He is a full character whose life is portrayed from birth to death in the Genesis narrative and whose name is remembered throughout almost all of scripture. A close reading of the stories of Jacob’s life reveal that he was a complex man, full of manipulation and egocentricities. Even before his birth, the Lord was making proclamations of his divisiveness. He came from the womb grasping for his brother’s heel and was given a name that means ‘he takes by the heel’, ‘he supplants’ or even ‘he’s grabby’. Jacob grabbed his brother’s heel in birth and continued to fight with him throughout adolescence. He fought with Laban for twenty years. And for one night he fought with an unidentified man.
The mysterious night angle that wrestled with Jacob is often assumed to be his own inner demons. Jacob was fighting with himself. This theory makes sense. After two decades Jacob was going home. But his brother (the one from whom he stole birthright and blessing) was coming to meet him—with four hundred men. It’s easy to believe that Jacob was terrified, racked with guilt and overcome with nightmares. Norman Cohen offers a modern day midrash on the story in which there is no mystery man. He understands the entire episode to have been a vision. This is acceptable speculation, for the Hebrew text reveals no concrete answer. In The New interpreter’s Bible, however, the speculation is removed. While Terence E. Fretheim believes that the narrator delays in identifying the assailant, he believes readers can figure it out. “Initially, he appears only as a “man” [but]…the reader gradually comes to realize that this is no ordinary assailant; it is God in human form” (NIB 565). I marvel at this sort of certainty. Throughout the various commentaries I read, it seems the people who come to this conclusion rely on two things, verses 28 and 30. The Hebrew word that is used in these verses and translated as God is ‘elohim, which “is a high concentration point of lexical ambiguity” (Alter 182). Alter claims that ‘elohim does not mean “divine messenger” but can refer to divine beings. He goes on to say that it could mean God, gods or even princes or judges (Alter 182). In this context, it seems clearly connected to divinity, but there is no way of knowing whether it is singular or plural. There is also no way of knowing whether the mysterious man is using the word to reference himself or if he’s speaking to other parts of Jacob’s life. The certainty found in The New Interpreters Bible seems a little over zealous. Fretheim claims that most ancient and modern readers would assume the man to be God from the beginning and he therefore works from that assumption throughout his commentary. I respectfully disagree and will work in my commentary from the assumption that the man remains mysterious. We will never know his identity for sure.
We do, however, know something of his actions—he injured Jacob. I am always surprised by how violent verse 25 seems considering it comes in the middle of an already violent scene—two men fighting. Exactly how the man injured Jacob is ambiguous. The man did something to Jacob’s hip, either ‘touched’ it (NIV) or ‘struck’ it (NRSV). These words have very different connotations. According to Alter “struck is unwarranted…the adversary maims Jacob with a magic touch, or, if one prefers, by skillful pressure on a pressure point” (Alter 181). According to Fretheim, however, “struck is truer to the context…though both translations are possible” (NIB 566). We are again left with uncertainty, we simply don’t know. Schneir Levin focuses on a different word dispute in his wonderings about the actual injury. The NRSV translates the beginning of verse 25 as “When the man saw that he did not prevail against him.” Levin says that the Hebrew actually reads “and when he saw that he was not able to…him” (Levin 326). He says that translators are inferring the word prevail. Levin thinks the word should be castrate. He believes that the mysterious man is none other than Esau. He writes “What else could [Jacob] dream about than Esau taking his life or the ultimate humiliation of castration?” (Levin 326). Levin quotes several doctors who all agree that Jacob’s hip could not have been put out of joint because he would not have been able to walk away from the scene:
But there is another surgical possibility, the obvious one, the common one, which in predisposed males—that is, males with a potentially open passage from the abdomen through the groin and into the scrotum—can result in a hernia in the groin, most often on the right side, and as a consequence of increased intra-abdominal pressure during the course of a worrying dream. Such a rupture, a hernia, is often sufficiently uncomfortable, when it occurs to result in a temporary limp. (Levin 327).
This is a creative and fascinating idea. Levine began this study by looking at the Hebrew word takya which is translated as “put out of joint” in the NRSV. Levin would like to see it translated as ruptured. While I admire Levin’s creativity, I would be disappointed to think of Jacob’s injury as temporary. I know that sounds harsh, but in a literary sense Jacob’s limp needs to be permanent. He was forever changed after his mysterious encounter. All of these word studies: struck/touched, put-of-joint/ruptured, prevailed/ castrated have helped me to consider this odd scene of violence in more creative, nuanced and ambiguous ways.
Verse 26 leaves the tale of the narrator and allows the two characters to use their own voices. The first utterance from each man is a demand. First the mysterious man asks to be let go because the dawn is coming. This is curious; why must he leave before daybreak? This element is a wonderful literary device that supports the mysterious quality of the story. This man must stay under the cover of darkness. In a study on the character of God in Genesis, W. Lee Humphreys asks intriguing questions about the man’s demand. He ponders four options for why he must leave before dawn. Either he can’t stand the light of day or he’s not supposed to be seen during the day. Or maybe his power is only effective during the night. Another possibility is that his power would be too overwhelming if seen in the light of day. All of these speculations are valid and lead Humphreys to the conclusion that the man must be more than a mere human (Humphreys 194). Claus Westermann, in a comprehensive reading of the man’s character in the story determines that he fits the profile of an evil spirit or demon. The man attacks suddenly and surprisingly, refuses to identify himself and must escape before he can been seen in the light (Westermann 516). The obvious parallels between the mysterious man and night spirits in fairy tales and folklore deserve to be mentioned. Several scholars raise this point. Westermann writes:
The basic narrative…bears distinct animistic traits and is not to be dissociated from the region, the ford, the river. The danger of the ford is personified in the spirit or demon who does not want to let the traveler cross the river and attacks him so as to prevent him doing so. This accords neither with the religion of Israel nor with that of the patriarchs, but with animistic belief in spirits or demons and has parallels among many people. (Westermann 515)
The story of two men wrestling in the night is more than likely an ancient folktale that has been made over and used in the Genesis account as a hinge between two sides of Jacob’s life. All of this contributes to our inability to concretely identify the man. He doesn’t want to be brought into the light. Jacob, however, doesn’t care what the man wants (and why should he, the man has attacked and injured him). Jacob’s first words in the narrative are a refusal and a demand for blessing. Walter Brueggemann reminds us that “since chapter 27, we have known [Jacob] would do anything to get a blessing [and] now he seeks a more weighty [one]” (Brueggemann 268). This is a point I hadn’t thought of, but it seems completely right. It portrays Jacob as an insecure man constantly looking for validation. It’s sadly comical to think of poor Jacob searching for blessing from a violent stranger. It seems he’ll take it wherever he can get it.
Verse 26 seems to be a transition between physical and verbal wrestling. The next three verses become solely a match of words and wit. Jacob and the man begin to struggle with issues of identity. They each ask for the other’s name. Jacob gives his quickly, but is mocked for asking the same of the man. The man, while not identifying who he is, clearly understands himself to be someone of authority. Placed in the very center of this story (and in between the two requests for names), is Jacob’s name change. I can’t imagine that the placement of this action is accidental. The name/identity change is the point of the story and there are several reasons why it’s important and unique. Abram was changed into Abraham in conjunction with his being called the ancestor of a multitude of generations and he is never again referred to as Abram. Jacob’s name was changed twice, but he continues to be called Jacob. His new name, Israel, becomes a synonym or metaphor for Jacob’s identity or role in the community. The second reference to Jacob’s new name happens in Genesis 35:10-11 and more closely resembles Abraham’s experience. The first reference, the one of concern in this essay, happens as a result of Jacob’s continued struggles. There are significant theological reasons for the change. Alter writes:
Of all the patriarchs Jacob is the one whose life is entangled in moral ambiguities. Rashi beautifully catches the resonance of the name change: ‘it will no longer be said that the blessings came to you through deviousness…but instead through lordliness…and openness.’ (Alter 182)
Jacob’s identity as the father of great nations and kings is important and was in need of transformation. It is much more attractive to be descended from someone named for godliness rather than grabbiness.
After Jacob receives his new name, the story begins to wind down. The wrestling match is coming to a close and there is no clear victor. Both men have won at various points. The man could not win physically and so injured Jacob. He couldn’t free himself before dawn, but he is never forced to reveal his identity and he has the power to change the identity of Jacob. Jacob, although taken by surprise, was able to physically dominate the man even after sustaining an injury. Jacob asks for two things throughout the battle, but is only granted one. He is not allowed to know the man’s name, but he does receive his longed for blessing; a blessing he didn’t have to lie to get.
Whoever the mystery man is—one of Jacob’s personal demons, a representation of Esau, an angel, a river spirit, God, or something else—he is able to bless Jacob. And because of this, Jacob is changed. Walter Brueggemann, working from the assumption that the man is God writes:
Something happens in this transaction that is irreversible…Power has shifted between God and humankind. Israel is the one who has faced God, been touched by God, prevailed, gained a blessing, and been renamed. There is something new underway here about the weakness of God and the strength of Israel. The encounter will not permit a neat summary of roles, as though God is strong and Jacob is weak, or as though things are reversed with Jacob strong and God weak. All of that remains unsettled. But new possibilities are open to Israel that have not been available before. In the giving of the blessing, something of the power of God has been entrusted to Israel. (Brueggemann 269)
While I disagree with Brueggemann’s assumption of the man’s identity, I am still compelled by his conception of Jacob’s transformation. Jacob is returning to a home he fled two decades ago after stealing the blessing of his brother. He is scared and guilty. Through this mysterious encounter, however, he is built up. He is given his own blessing. He still had to fight for it, ask for it and suffer for it, but it belonged to him and no one could take it away or claim that he stole it. As Brueggemann claimed above, the power dynamic had changed.
This change is not lost on Jacob. He claims a new identity for himself and the place of his transformation. The ending of this story is beautiful; Jacob felt a divine presence in a way not many people get to and he celebrates it. He claims to have seen God face to face. The Hebrew term ‘elohim is used again and it’s impossible to know for sure who Jacob thought he saw, but it was clearly someone important. Someone so powerful that Jacob is amazed to have survived it. Following in the footsteps of Hagar at the well, he renamed the place Peniel, a name that builds on panim ‘el panim which literally means face to face, he wasn’t trying to hide his experience of the mysterious encounter (Alter 183). The last verse tells us that the story is complete; the sun rose and the night was over. Alter highlights the symmetry of this ending (Alter 183). As Jacob was fleeing home twenty years ago, the sun set on him, “He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set” (Genesis 28:11). And now he walked towards home through the sunrise. “The encounter with the unfathomable Other [left] a lasting mark on [him]…and he [bore] his inward scars as he [lived] onward” (Alter 183). In other words, the man with a history now had a future. Jacob’s dark night had lifted and he was limping triumphantly towards home.
Conclusion (After Reflection and Research)
In all of my study, I never came across an interpretation of this story as a metaphor for the spiritual journey. Robert Alter referred to the mysterious man as an “embodiment of portentous antagonism in Jacob’s dark night of the soul” (Alter 181). But that’s as close as I got. Before beginning this study, I believed my understanding to be common, I worried I was being too obvious. But unless I missed something, this story is always read as the hinge point in the middle of Jacob’s life. It’s understood as his conversion or transformation. The identity of the mystery man is something people have dwelled on for thousands of years. He is often thought to embody Esau, but many commentators just assume the man is God and work from there. Others, refuse to solve the mystery cleanly and allow the ambiguity to stand. As I stated in my original reflection on the text, I see the story of family drama. I see the moment of fear before returning home. It’s a grand story and I understand why it has captivated so many people for so incredibly long. But I leave this work more intrigued by what appears to be lacking in scholarship on this story and what I believe to be a fruitful reading. Human beings will always want to name the unnamable. Humanity has always and more than likely always will wrestle with conceptions of divinity. In this story I find a model for the struggle. As I fight with the unknown, I suffer. I refuse to let go and I want to be blessed. Everything about who I am is called into question and I am changed, yet I am never allowed to know who or what I fight with. At various points I am injured and at others I am blessed. I carry all of this with me and in the morning sun, I am made new.
(Let me know if you would like the bibliography.)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Soteriology For The Material World
{Here's my theology paper on Soteriology, which is the doctrine of salvation}
Jesus of Nazareth died. I don’t know anyone who would disagree with this fact. There is, however, much disagreement as to what happened next. Christians believe that he rose from the dead, appeared to his disciples, and ascended to the father in heaven—offering salvation to his people in the process. Many people think of this as simply a far-fetched story, and there are countless others who because of differing religious views, believe it to be heresy. So while the death of Jesus is most certainly a fact (for death comes to all of us), his resurrection is a much harder detail to confirm. However, while the resurrection may or may not be a historical fact, the existence of the story of it is very real. The resurrection of Jesus did happen, at least in the religious narrative of Christianity. And within this narrative, belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection brings one salvation. The problem with a narrative of salvation that requires a death is its effect on humanity’s relationship to suffering.
Narratives, especially dominant narratives, are always wrapped up in history. In the last chapter of New Testament Story, David L. Barr discusses the nature of history. He recognizes the fact that “History always remains a tentative reconstruction of the past based on the available evidence, which must then be rigorously tested.” In relation to the historical method of testing evidence, he notes:
Generally, modern historians are trained to be skeptical of their sources, to subject them to careful analysis, to prefer empirical and testable data, and to use only natural explanations. These factors raise problems for the ancient historian, whose sources are few and distant, but the last point raises special problems in investigating religions.
Supernatural stories of resurrection are difficult to rigorously test. Barr goes on to say that the available sources regarding Jesus of Nazareth are documents of “faith and imagination.” In other words, all we know about the resurrection of Jesus, and what it means for salvation, is what we can glean from the ancient stories people wrote about him. The narrative is all we have.
People can—and many do—spend their lives searching for proof of an actual resurrection or an accurate portrait of the historical Jesus. Others choose to spend their energy discerning the symbolic meaning of the narrative. Some want physical proof, while others are willing to simply accept the narrative as a divine story. Both styles of inquiry are ultimately after the same thing—an attempt to understand who God is and what the means and meaning of salvation are. Regardless of whether the narrative is viewed as a historical fact, religious symbolism, or mere nonsense, its influences on the world’s view of salvation can’t be denied. Religious narratives, such as the terribly familiar death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, are powerful. Barr is right, they are stories of human ‘faith and imagination.’ And as such, they act in the material world.
The Christian narrative identifies the death of a man believed to be innocent—Jesus of Nazareth—as the redemptive act that offered salvation to all of humanity. It is believed that by Jesus’ innocent suffering, the guilty are set free, they are saved. Therefore, the suffering experienced by Jesus is celebrated. Implicit in the Christian narrative, then, is the notion that suffering can be good for humanity, that it can be something worthy of celebration. Arguably, without the suffering and death of Jesus Christ salvation cannot be attained. As the Book of Hebrews puts it, “But we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Or again, “It was fitting that God, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” It’s clear that in the Christian narrative suffering is not only a prerequisite for avoiding death, but also a “fitting” means by which to be brought to glory. That is, to be saved seems to necessitate suffering.
According to the Encyclopedia of Religion:
The term soteriology means “doctrine of salvation” or, more concretely, the “way of salvation,” and derives from the Greek soteria, which in turn is built on soter, or “savior”…[and] is usually used to refer to the salvation of individuals.
In the Christian narrative the ‘way of salvation’ for individuals is indeed built on a ‘savior,’ a personal savior offering reconciliation to the Father God through belief in the suffering Son. Jesus, in the Christian narrative, is the ‘way of salvation.’ In response to the question, “How can we know the way?” Jesus responds, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Even so, ideas of salvation don’t exclusively belong to the Christian narrative.
There are a multitude of religious narratives in the world, hence there are numerous stories regarding the ‘way of salvation.’ Religious narratives play a critical role in the creation of identity and community for those who believe in them. The narratives people believe impact the way they interact with the world. As Anis Bawarshi, in his work on genre theory has noted “‘lived textualities’ interact with and transform ‘lived experiences.’” Put another way, narratives matter, in fact, they shape our world and experience of it. Thus when an influential narrative like Christianity teaches that salvation comes through suffering, humanity’s relationship to suffering is negatively impacted.
Many people would take issue with my claim that salvation comes through suffering in the Christian narrative. They would argue that the focus of Christian salvation is the empty tomb, the resurrection—not death. And they would be right. However, it’s impossible to have an empty tomb without first having a crucifixion. In order for Jesus to rise, he first had to die. Consequently, the Christian narrative accepts suffering as necessary. It has to, for the only way to acknowledge the resurrection, is to first acknowledge the death, in this case the torturous violent death, of Jesus. So while Christianity may focus on resurrection, it cannot escape the role suffering plays in its ‘way of salvation.’
In the town I live in, I see church reader boards with messages such as, “God can use your suffering for His good.” and “Jesus died for your sins.” I concede that I also see signs celebrating the resurrection; however, these are usually limited to Easter Sunday. One would be hard-pressed to find a church reader board claiming “Jesus resurrected for your sins.” The common understanding of Christian salvation does not exclude suffering. These reader board messages—designed to help people find salvation through Jesus—teach of the goodness, or at least, the usefulness of suffering (God used the suffering of his son to bring about salvation for the world). I find this belief to be dangerous however, and think it causes damage in our world by distorting views of real human suffering. In his essay, “There is No God” for the popular series This I Believe, Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) writes:
Believing there is no God means the suffering I’ve seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn’t caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn’t bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.
Looking at Jillette’s last sentence from the other direction, I can say that as long as redemption is understood to come through suffering, suffering will always be understood as acceptable, necessary and even justified.
One of the most well known verses in Christian scripture is John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” This verse is displayed on reader boards in sports stadiums, handed out in pamphlets on the street, and has been memorized by countless children. The familiarity of the verse has seemingly blinded people from its horror. It is offered as a verse of hope, of the generosity of God, and of the saving power of Jesus. But as I have worked to de-familiarize myself with it and read with fresh eyes what the words actually say, I have come to understand the injustice, abuse, and demand inherent in it’s words. Since I’m familiar with the rest of the Christian narrative, I know that God is giving his only son over to be tortured and killed. According to John 3:16, the reason God is doing this is because he so loves the world that he wants to save his believers from perishing, and apparently, belief in this divine act of child abuse offers eternal life. I am left struggling with deep questions regarding the nature of God in relation to this narrative. Why does God need his only child to die (I’ll leave the question of how God has an only child for a paper on the doctrine of the trinity) in order to offer salvation to his believers? Why is suffering and death necessary for redemption?
Anselm’s satisfaction theory of atonement works to answer these questions. The satisfaction theory claims that through the sinfulness of humanity, God has been dishonored. Therefore, humanity must give satisfaction or be punished. According to this theory:
While humanity must provide this satisfaction, only God can provide it…For this reason God has become human in Christ. In his perfect obedience unto death, satisfaction is rendered, justice is done, God’s honor is restored, and sinners are forgiven.
In other words, blood and violence are prerequisites for salvation. Justice (punishment) must be done in order for God to offer forgiveness. In Faith Seeking Understanding, Daniel Migliore highlights the fact that Anselm comes from “the medieval thought world and presuppose[s] then-current understandings of law, offense, reparations, and social obligations.” Migliore follows the tradition through John Calvin, who “wavered on the question whether the motive of the atonement was the need to satisfy God’s righteous anger or whether God was moved by pure and freely given love for the world.” He then moves on to Karl Barth who went “beyond both Anselm and Calvin by consistently interpreting the atoning work of Christ as motivated solely by the holy love of God.” I would argue, however, that the Christian narrative has not moved beyond Anselm’s “medieval thought world.” As I look at the rampant use of the death penalty in America, (between 1930-2007 thousands of people have received the death penalty ) I find that contemporary views of ‘law, offense, reparations, and social obligations’ aren’t that different from the thinking of Anselm. And as the common church reader board messages of Jesus dying for us indicate, soteriologies based on satisfactionist theories of atonement are still very real in Christian churches.
The death of Jesus is clearly presented as being for us in scripture. I’m not attempting to argue that it isn’t. Rather, I’m trying to point out the dangerous ways in which this narrative is working in our world. Migliore highlights the fact that many believers have skillfully disguised the violence of Jesus’ death. In other words, they can hide it and ignore it. They can “become accustomed to gilded and bejeweled crosses.” When we are so desensitized to the violence of Jesus’ death that we are celebrating a killing machine by wearing it around our necks, our relationship to violence is severely damaged. How effective can a narrative that offers salvation through suffering, violence and death, actually be at challenging violence and suffering? Migliore makes the claim that:
The crucified Christ embodies the love of God in our violent world, conquering the hatred that inspires violence and the spirit of revenge that prompts counter-violence. In the teaching, ministry, and crucifixion of Christ, God exposes the lie of the inevitability of the circle of violence and counter-violence. God refuses to oppose evil with evil. The cross is God’s free and costly gift of love whose goal is the transformation of the world.
While I find this to be one of the most convincing arguments I’ve encountered regarding the necessity of the violent cross, I still disagree with it. According to the Christian narrative, God didn’t ‘refuse to oppose evil with evil,’ he opposed sin by sending his only son to die. Divine child abuse does not fall outside the bounds of evil. And how can the cross be simultaneously ‘free and costly?’ It can’t. The cross cost Jesus his life. There was nothing free about it.
Another theory of atonement working to answer why Jesus’ death was necessary for humanity’s salvation is the Christ as Victor theory. In Faith Seeking Understanding, this theory is described as:
[A] dramatic struggle between God and the forces of evil in the world…Under the veil of his humanity, Christ triumphs over the demons, the devil, and all the principalities and powers that hold human beings captive. By his cross and resurrection, Christ decisively defeats these powers and thus frees their captives.
While Migliore has problems with this theory, he still finds important truth in it. The theory is further explored in Journeys by Heart by Rita Nakashima Brock:
[Jesus’] death is seen as a death for others, a cosmic event in which the death of God in Christ becomes the death of death…His resurrection is interpreted as the sign of divine triumphal powers that vindicate Jesus as the true messiah...The passion narratives have been interpreted as the story of a heroic savior who faced his enemies alone and unaided. Jesus’ death becomes the battle of unilateral powers. In returning Jesus to life, divine unilateral action conquers the power of sin and death.
Both Brock and I struggle with this theory. One of the most obvious problems is the fact that the emphasis of the Christ as Victor theory lies in other worldly battles. When the battle between good and evil is over-spiritualized, it fails to connect to the actual battles of good and evil happening on the planet earth. How can powerful and oppressive structures be fought in this world when our narrative tells us that the battle has already been won? According to Brock, the Christ as Victor theory teaches that “only a transcendent and powerful deity can save us, for all human power has failed.” In other words, the powerful and oppressive structures of our world cannot be fought, at least not with human power. But in the Christian narrative of salvation, we are told not to worry about our failure to fight oppression and suffering because the resurrection has already defeated them. Herein lies my problem with Christian views of soteriology that hold the violent death of Jesus as necessary and victorious. In Brock’s words: “To make claims that any person’s tragic, painful death is divinely willed or necessary for others to be saved mutes our ability to be angry about unnecessary suffering.” If we live with the assumption that we are saved, that evil has already been defeated, and that salvation can be offered to all of humanity by offering them belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection, how are we to fight the hidden and explicit injustice that exists in our world? We can’t; but the bigger problem is that we often don’t even think we need to.
I realize that many believers, because of their faith in the Christian narrative, have spent their lives working to end suffering, violence, oppression, and injustice. I celebrate their work and no way mean to deny or demean it. However, I argue that because traditional views of soteriology—such as the theories of substitution and Christ as Victor—are so prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the Christian narrative, they are also prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the entire western world. Hence, I live in a society where suffering and violence are viewed as acceptable—sometimes necessary and justified—and always inevitable.
Brock has put forth a feminist view of Christology that de-centers Jesus from the doctrine of salvation. She says “We must find the revelatory and saving events of Christianity in a larger reality than Jesus.” By challenging the narrative’s longstanding focal point, namely that the death of one individual leads to salvation, she aims to rewrite the Christian narrative in a way that prevents suffering from prevailing. In my view, her work suppresses any cause to celebrate suffering. For she proposes that the locus of the redemptive act is not the individual death of Jesus, but is rather found in what she calls the Christa/Community, which takes a relational view of Christ. For Brock:
The power that gives and sustains life does not flow from a dead and resurrected savior to his followers. Rather, the community sustains life-giving power by its memory of its own brokenheartedness and of those who have suffered and gone before and by its members being courageously and redemptively present to all.
In the Christa/Community Jesus participates in the life-giving power, just as the rest of us do. He is not the life-giving power. The Christa/Community calls each one of us “to risk a commitment, as a caring community, to the promise of…a domination-free community.” In other words, salvation is everyone’s responsibility. In her epilogue, she says:
No one heroic or divine deed will defeat oppressive powers and death-delivering systems. We cannot rely on one past event to save our future. No almighty power will deliver us from evil. With each minute we wait for such rescue, more die.
I read this as a powerful call away from dependency on a Father God who offers salvation through his suffering Son.
As Brock argues that we must de-center Jesus from the doctrines of salvation, I argue that we must go even farther. We must de-center the Christian narrative itself from ideas of human salvation. We must shock ourselves out of the normality of the Christian narrative and closely re-examine what it is we claim to believe. The feminist theologian Mary Daly has called soteriologies that proclaim as salvific the death of Jesus, necrophilic. This statement would shock (and no doubt insult) most Christians, but it is exactly the kind of statement that will call for a re-examination of the Christian obsession with death as the bearer of salvation, and consequently, its celebration of suffering.
In order for the idea of salvation to really matter in our everyday, very human, decisions and actions, we must pull it down from the skies of transcendent reality and place it squarely in the material world. We must take full responsibility for it. Only then will salvation be possible for ourselves and our world. Every time the human spirit of love, generosity and kindness stands up against violence and oppression, humanity is brought one step closer to understanding the meaning of salvation for our lives. Assuming that salvation and the defeat of evil have already been accomplished, the Christian narrative excuses people from very real work that needs to be done. It allows for the acceptance of suffering. If we are to be saved, we have to work out our salvation together, right here in the physical world.
{my footnote numbers didn't copy, if you want to see them let me know and I'll send you the Word Doc. sources are below...}
Barr, David. New Testament Story, 3rd ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2001. p. 472
Ibid, p. 471.
Ibid, p. 473.
Hebrews 2:9
Hebrews 2:10
Smart, Ninian. "Soteriology" Encyclopedia of Religion. Ed. Lindsay Jones. Vol. 12. 2nd ed. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. 8526-8530. 15 vols. p. 8526
John 14:5b-6
Devitt, Amy J., Anis Bawarshi, and Mary Jo Reiff. “Materiality and Genre in the Study
of Discourse Communities.” College English 65.5 (May, 2003): 541-558. p.549
Church reader board messages in Richmond, IN
Jillette, Penn. “There is No God.” The Portable Atheist. Ed. Christopher Hitchens. USA: De Capo Press, 2007. 349-350. p. 350
Migliore, Daniel L. Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004. p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/glance/tables/exetab.htm
Migliore, p.188
Ibid, p. 190
Ibid, p. 182-3
Brock, Rita Nakashima. Journeys by Heart: A Christology of Erotic Power. New York: Crossroad, 1988. p. 90-1
Ibid, p. 91
Ibid, p. 94
Ibid, p. 68
Ibid, p. 105
Ibid, p. 96
Ibid, p. 105
Ibid, p. 90
Jesus of Nazareth died. I don’t know anyone who would disagree with this fact. There is, however, much disagreement as to what happened next. Christians believe that he rose from the dead, appeared to his disciples, and ascended to the father in heaven—offering salvation to his people in the process. Many people think of this as simply a far-fetched story, and there are countless others who because of differing religious views, believe it to be heresy. So while the death of Jesus is most certainly a fact (for death comes to all of us), his resurrection is a much harder detail to confirm. However, while the resurrection may or may not be a historical fact, the existence of the story of it is very real. The resurrection of Jesus did happen, at least in the religious narrative of Christianity. And within this narrative, belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection brings one salvation. The problem with a narrative of salvation that requires a death is its effect on humanity’s relationship to suffering.
Narratives, especially dominant narratives, are always wrapped up in history. In the last chapter of New Testament Story, David L. Barr discusses the nature of history. He recognizes the fact that “History always remains a tentative reconstruction of the past based on the available evidence, which must then be rigorously tested.” In relation to the historical method of testing evidence, he notes:
Generally, modern historians are trained to be skeptical of their sources, to subject them to careful analysis, to prefer empirical and testable data, and to use only natural explanations. These factors raise problems for the ancient historian, whose sources are few and distant, but the last point raises special problems in investigating religions.
Supernatural stories of resurrection are difficult to rigorously test. Barr goes on to say that the available sources regarding Jesus of Nazareth are documents of “faith and imagination.” In other words, all we know about the resurrection of Jesus, and what it means for salvation, is what we can glean from the ancient stories people wrote about him. The narrative is all we have.
People can—and many do—spend their lives searching for proof of an actual resurrection or an accurate portrait of the historical Jesus. Others choose to spend their energy discerning the symbolic meaning of the narrative. Some want physical proof, while others are willing to simply accept the narrative as a divine story. Both styles of inquiry are ultimately after the same thing—an attempt to understand who God is and what the means and meaning of salvation are. Regardless of whether the narrative is viewed as a historical fact, religious symbolism, or mere nonsense, its influences on the world’s view of salvation can’t be denied. Religious narratives, such as the terribly familiar death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, are powerful. Barr is right, they are stories of human ‘faith and imagination.’ And as such, they act in the material world.
The Christian narrative identifies the death of a man believed to be innocent—Jesus of Nazareth—as the redemptive act that offered salvation to all of humanity. It is believed that by Jesus’ innocent suffering, the guilty are set free, they are saved. Therefore, the suffering experienced by Jesus is celebrated. Implicit in the Christian narrative, then, is the notion that suffering can be good for humanity, that it can be something worthy of celebration. Arguably, without the suffering and death of Jesus Christ salvation cannot be attained. As the Book of Hebrews puts it, “But we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Or again, “It was fitting that God, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” It’s clear that in the Christian narrative suffering is not only a prerequisite for avoiding death, but also a “fitting” means by which to be brought to glory. That is, to be saved seems to necessitate suffering.
According to the Encyclopedia of Religion:
The term soteriology means “doctrine of salvation” or, more concretely, the “way of salvation,” and derives from the Greek soteria, which in turn is built on soter, or “savior”…[and] is usually used to refer to the salvation of individuals.
In the Christian narrative the ‘way of salvation’ for individuals is indeed built on a ‘savior,’ a personal savior offering reconciliation to the Father God through belief in the suffering Son. Jesus, in the Christian narrative, is the ‘way of salvation.’ In response to the question, “How can we know the way?” Jesus responds, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Even so, ideas of salvation don’t exclusively belong to the Christian narrative.
There are a multitude of religious narratives in the world, hence there are numerous stories regarding the ‘way of salvation.’ Religious narratives play a critical role in the creation of identity and community for those who believe in them. The narratives people believe impact the way they interact with the world. As Anis Bawarshi, in his work on genre theory has noted “‘lived textualities’ interact with and transform ‘lived experiences.’” Put another way, narratives matter, in fact, they shape our world and experience of it. Thus when an influential narrative like Christianity teaches that salvation comes through suffering, humanity’s relationship to suffering is negatively impacted.
Many people would take issue with my claim that salvation comes through suffering in the Christian narrative. They would argue that the focus of Christian salvation is the empty tomb, the resurrection—not death. And they would be right. However, it’s impossible to have an empty tomb without first having a crucifixion. In order for Jesus to rise, he first had to die. Consequently, the Christian narrative accepts suffering as necessary. It has to, for the only way to acknowledge the resurrection, is to first acknowledge the death, in this case the torturous violent death, of Jesus. So while Christianity may focus on resurrection, it cannot escape the role suffering plays in its ‘way of salvation.’
In the town I live in, I see church reader boards with messages such as, “God can use your suffering for His good.” and “Jesus died for your sins.” I concede that I also see signs celebrating the resurrection; however, these are usually limited to Easter Sunday. One would be hard-pressed to find a church reader board claiming “Jesus resurrected for your sins.” The common understanding of Christian salvation does not exclude suffering. These reader board messages—designed to help people find salvation through Jesus—teach of the goodness, or at least, the usefulness of suffering (God used the suffering of his son to bring about salvation for the world). I find this belief to be dangerous however, and think it causes damage in our world by distorting views of real human suffering. In his essay, “There is No God” for the popular series This I Believe, Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) writes:
Believing there is no God means the suffering I’ve seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn’t caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn’t bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.
Looking at Jillette’s last sentence from the other direction, I can say that as long as redemption is understood to come through suffering, suffering will always be understood as acceptable, necessary and even justified.
One of the most well known verses in Christian scripture is John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” This verse is displayed on reader boards in sports stadiums, handed out in pamphlets on the street, and has been memorized by countless children. The familiarity of the verse has seemingly blinded people from its horror. It is offered as a verse of hope, of the generosity of God, and of the saving power of Jesus. But as I have worked to de-familiarize myself with it and read with fresh eyes what the words actually say, I have come to understand the injustice, abuse, and demand inherent in it’s words. Since I’m familiar with the rest of the Christian narrative, I know that God is giving his only son over to be tortured and killed. According to John 3:16, the reason God is doing this is because he so loves the world that he wants to save his believers from perishing, and apparently, belief in this divine act of child abuse offers eternal life. I am left struggling with deep questions regarding the nature of God in relation to this narrative. Why does God need his only child to die (I’ll leave the question of how God has an only child for a paper on the doctrine of the trinity) in order to offer salvation to his believers? Why is suffering and death necessary for redemption?
Anselm’s satisfaction theory of atonement works to answer these questions. The satisfaction theory claims that through the sinfulness of humanity, God has been dishonored. Therefore, humanity must give satisfaction or be punished. According to this theory:
While humanity must provide this satisfaction, only God can provide it…For this reason God has become human in Christ. In his perfect obedience unto death, satisfaction is rendered, justice is done, God’s honor is restored, and sinners are forgiven.
In other words, blood and violence are prerequisites for salvation. Justice (punishment) must be done in order for God to offer forgiveness. In Faith Seeking Understanding, Daniel Migliore highlights the fact that Anselm comes from “the medieval thought world and presuppose[s] then-current understandings of law, offense, reparations, and social obligations.” Migliore follows the tradition through John Calvin, who “wavered on the question whether the motive of the atonement was the need to satisfy God’s righteous anger or whether God was moved by pure and freely given love for the world.” He then moves on to Karl Barth who went “beyond both Anselm and Calvin by consistently interpreting the atoning work of Christ as motivated solely by the holy love of God.” I would argue, however, that the Christian narrative has not moved beyond Anselm’s “medieval thought world.” As I look at the rampant use of the death penalty in America, (between 1930-2007 thousands of people have received the death penalty ) I find that contemporary views of ‘law, offense, reparations, and social obligations’ aren’t that different from the thinking of Anselm. And as the common church reader board messages of Jesus dying for us indicate, soteriologies based on satisfactionist theories of atonement are still very real in Christian churches.
The death of Jesus is clearly presented as being for us in scripture. I’m not attempting to argue that it isn’t. Rather, I’m trying to point out the dangerous ways in which this narrative is working in our world. Migliore highlights the fact that many believers have skillfully disguised the violence of Jesus’ death. In other words, they can hide it and ignore it. They can “become accustomed to gilded and bejeweled crosses.” When we are so desensitized to the violence of Jesus’ death that we are celebrating a killing machine by wearing it around our necks, our relationship to violence is severely damaged. How effective can a narrative that offers salvation through suffering, violence and death, actually be at challenging violence and suffering? Migliore makes the claim that:
The crucified Christ embodies the love of God in our violent world, conquering the hatred that inspires violence and the spirit of revenge that prompts counter-violence. In the teaching, ministry, and crucifixion of Christ, God exposes the lie of the inevitability of the circle of violence and counter-violence. God refuses to oppose evil with evil. The cross is God’s free and costly gift of love whose goal is the transformation of the world.
While I find this to be one of the most convincing arguments I’ve encountered regarding the necessity of the violent cross, I still disagree with it. According to the Christian narrative, God didn’t ‘refuse to oppose evil with evil,’ he opposed sin by sending his only son to die. Divine child abuse does not fall outside the bounds of evil. And how can the cross be simultaneously ‘free and costly?’ It can’t. The cross cost Jesus his life. There was nothing free about it.
Another theory of atonement working to answer why Jesus’ death was necessary for humanity’s salvation is the Christ as Victor theory. In Faith Seeking Understanding, this theory is described as:
[A] dramatic struggle between God and the forces of evil in the world…Under the veil of his humanity, Christ triumphs over the demons, the devil, and all the principalities and powers that hold human beings captive. By his cross and resurrection, Christ decisively defeats these powers and thus frees their captives.
While Migliore has problems with this theory, he still finds important truth in it. The theory is further explored in Journeys by Heart by Rita Nakashima Brock:
[Jesus’] death is seen as a death for others, a cosmic event in which the death of God in Christ becomes the death of death…His resurrection is interpreted as the sign of divine triumphal powers that vindicate Jesus as the true messiah...The passion narratives have been interpreted as the story of a heroic savior who faced his enemies alone and unaided. Jesus’ death becomes the battle of unilateral powers. In returning Jesus to life, divine unilateral action conquers the power of sin and death.
Both Brock and I struggle with this theory. One of the most obvious problems is the fact that the emphasis of the Christ as Victor theory lies in other worldly battles. When the battle between good and evil is over-spiritualized, it fails to connect to the actual battles of good and evil happening on the planet earth. How can powerful and oppressive structures be fought in this world when our narrative tells us that the battle has already been won? According to Brock, the Christ as Victor theory teaches that “only a transcendent and powerful deity can save us, for all human power has failed.” In other words, the powerful and oppressive structures of our world cannot be fought, at least not with human power. But in the Christian narrative of salvation, we are told not to worry about our failure to fight oppression and suffering because the resurrection has already defeated them. Herein lies my problem with Christian views of soteriology that hold the violent death of Jesus as necessary and victorious. In Brock’s words: “To make claims that any person’s tragic, painful death is divinely willed or necessary for others to be saved mutes our ability to be angry about unnecessary suffering.” If we live with the assumption that we are saved, that evil has already been defeated, and that salvation can be offered to all of humanity by offering them belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection, how are we to fight the hidden and explicit injustice that exists in our world? We can’t; but the bigger problem is that we often don’t even think we need to.
I realize that many believers, because of their faith in the Christian narrative, have spent their lives working to end suffering, violence, oppression, and injustice. I celebrate their work and no way mean to deny or demean it. However, I argue that because traditional views of soteriology—such as the theories of substitution and Christ as Victor—are so prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the Christian narrative, they are also prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the entire western world. Hence, I live in a society where suffering and violence are viewed as acceptable—sometimes necessary and justified—and always inevitable.
Brock has put forth a feminist view of Christology that de-centers Jesus from the doctrine of salvation. She says “We must find the revelatory and saving events of Christianity in a larger reality than Jesus.” By challenging the narrative’s longstanding focal point, namely that the death of one individual leads to salvation, she aims to rewrite the Christian narrative in a way that prevents suffering from prevailing. In my view, her work suppresses any cause to celebrate suffering. For she proposes that the locus of the redemptive act is not the individual death of Jesus, but is rather found in what she calls the Christa/Community, which takes a relational view of Christ. For Brock:
The power that gives and sustains life does not flow from a dead and resurrected savior to his followers. Rather, the community sustains life-giving power by its memory of its own brokenheartedness and of those who have suffered and gone before and by its members being courageously and redemptively present to all.
In the Christa/Community Jesus participates in the life-giving power, just as the rest of us do. He is not the life-giving power. The Christa/Community calls each one of us “to risk a commitment, as a caring community, to the promise of…a domination-free community.” In other words, salvation is everyone’s responsibility. In her epilogue, she says:
No one heroic or divine deed will defeat oppressive powers and death-delivering systems. We cannot rely on one past event to save our future. No almighty power will deliver us from evil. With each minute we wait for such rescue, more die.
I read this as a powerful call away from dependency on a Father God who offers salvation through his suffering Son.
As Brock argues that we must de-center Jesus from the doctrines of salvation, I argue that we must go even farther. We must de-center the Christian narrative itself from ideas of human salvation. We must shock ourselves out of the normality of the Christian narrative and closely re-examine what it is we claim to believe. The feminist theologian Mary Daly has called soteriologies that proclaim as salvific the death of Jesus, necrophilic. This statement would shock (and no doubt insult) most Christians, but it is exactly the kind of statement that will call for a re-examination of the Christian obsession with death as the bearer of salvation, and consequently, its celebration of suffering.
In order for the idea of salvation to really matter in our everyday, very human, decisions and actions, we must pull it down from the skies of transcendent reality and place it squarely in the material world. We must take full responsibility for it. Only then will salvation be possible for ourselves and our world. Every time the human spirit of love, generosity and kindness stands up against violence and oppression, humanity is brought one step closer to understanding the meaning of salvation for our lives. Assuming that salvation and the defeat of evil have already been accomplished, the Christian narrative excuses people from very real work that needs to be done. It allows for the acceptance of suffering. If we are to be saved, we have to work out our salvation together, right here in the physical world.
{my footnote numbers didn't copy, if you want to see them let me know and I'll send you the Word Doc. sources are below...}
Barr, David. New Testament Story, 3rd ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2001. p. 472
Ibid, p. 471.
Ibid, p. 473.
Hebrews 2:9
Hebrews 2:10
Smart, Ninian. "Soteriology" Encyclopedia of Religion. Ed. Lindsay Jones. Vol. 12. 2nd ed. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. 8526-8530. 15 vols. p. 8526
John 14:5b-6
Devitt, Amy J., Anis Bawarshi, and Mary Jo Reiff. “Materiality and Genre in the Study
of Discourse Communities.” College English 65.5 (May, 2003): 541-558. p.549
Church reader board messages in Richmond, IN
Jillette, Penn. “There is No God.” The Portable Atheist. Ed. Christopher Hitchens. USA: De Capo Press, 2007. 349-350. p. 350
Migliore, Daniel L. Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004. p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
Ibid, p. 184
http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/glance/tables/exetab.htm
Migliore, p.188
Ibid, p. 190
Ibid, p. 182-3
Brock, Rita Nakashima. Journeys by Heart: A Christology of Erotic Power. New York: Crossroad, 1988. p. 90-1
Ibid, p. 91
Ibid, p. 94
Ibid, p. 68
Ibid, p. 105
Ibid, p. 96
Ibid, p. 105
Ibid, p. 90
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