"How Beautiful Upon the Mountains": Some Thoughts on OT Lesson 39

Isaiah 50-53

In 1979, a biblical scholar named John Eaton published a work entitled Festal Drama in Deutero-Isaiah. Eaton, following the work of Ivan Engnell and others, saw in the “Servant Songs” and other themes of chapters 40-55, 60-62 of Isaiah allusions to the themes of the Ancient Israelite New Year Festival (which I’ve so often mentioned on this blog). He argued that these passages formed a “prophetic re-modelling” of the pre-exilic temple rituals performed during the festival.  Essentially, these chapters apply the themes of the festival, which were repeated annually, to actual historical events.

In order for us to recognize these “festal” themes in the book of Isaiah, it is necessary to be familiar with the motifs that are associated with the hypothetical New Year festival. While I can’t go into them fully here, I will share a brief outline. The basic idea behind the festival is that it is a time for the celebration of the divine kingship of Yahweh, and includes a dramatic representation of Yahweh’s victory over the Chaotic Sea and/or Dragon, his ascension to his Temple and enthronement there, his judgment of the nations, and inauguration of his reign of peace as king over the whole earth. According to Eaton’s theory, the festival also included parallel rituals involving the Davidic king, which included his (mock) battle against evil nations (sometimes depicted as chaotic waters or terrible beasts), his suffering and (near) death at the hands of these enemies, his redemption/resurrection by God’s aid, his victory over all enemies, triumphal procession and enthronement.  These descriptions are based on scholars’ interpretations of the Psalms, with comparisons to what we know of the New Year/Enthronement festivals of other Ancient Near Eastern cultures. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll provide here some of the further proposed details of the festival, as proposed by Eaton:

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"I Will Betroth Thee unto Me in Righteousness" (OT Lesson 34)

I have to begin this post by apologizing for missing a lesson! My schedule last week didn’t allow me to comment on OT Lesson 33, covering the book of Jonah and sections from Micah.  It’s not that there is nothing interesting to say about these books — there certainly is — it’s just that I didn’t make time for it last week.  If your ward has not yet done this lesson, here are a couple of internet posts that I’ve seen on it:

OT Lesson 34 — Hosea 1-3; 11; 13-14

Background

The Book of Hosea is placed first in our Bibles in a collection of twelve short books known as “the Minor Prophets” — called “minor” not because they were any less important or influential, but simply because what we have of their writings is much less than the writings of the “major” prophets: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel.  The books of the Minor Prophets are supposed to be, traditionally, ordered chronologically, but an analysis of the texts reveals that this is not likely the case.  For example, although Hosea is placed first, this is likely due to an erroneous reading of the Rabbis of Hosea 1:2 (RSV): “When the LORD first spoke through Hosea”, which they took to mean that Hosea was the first of these prophets who was called to speak for the Lord. ((John J. Collins, Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, 296))  However, the text of Hosea (Hosea 1:1) puts the prophet in the days of Jeroboam, Uzziah, and up to King Hezekiah’s time.  Chronologically, then, his book should be placed after those of Obadiah, Joel, Jonah, and Amos. Hosea was a younger contemporary of Amos, ((Ibid.)) and also served as prophet at roughly the same time as Jonah, Isaiah, and Micah.

Hosea was a prophet of Israel, the Northern Kingdom (while Isaiah and Micah were in Judah), before the destruction and exile of those northern tribes.  We can’t be sure if he witnessed that destruction, as it is not mentioned in his book, but some of the turmoil of the times leading up to that event is evident.  Hosea’s name in Hebrew, Hoshea, means “salvation.”

The book of Hosea presents an overview of the history of Israel, how they were loved as God’s chosen people (his bride/children), how they proved unfaithful by loving other gods more than the Lord, how they consequently fell into error, apostasy, and destruction, but how they would finally repent and return to their true God and be restored to the blessed state of abiding in his everlasting love.

Woodcut Illustration. Hosea, Gomer, and three children. From Zurich Bible, 1531.

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Biblical Wisdom Literature: Job (OT Lesson 32)

Job 1-2; 13; 19; 27; 42

The first thing that caught my attention when I looked at the Sunday School study guide for this lesson on Job was that the prescribed lesson plan jumps around the book of Job, skipping many chapters in between.  This is, I’m sure, par for Sunday School study of Job as we obviously can’t cover 42 chapters in any detail in one lesson. But I wonder if most of us are even aware that there are so many chapters in this book. Whatever could the story be on about for so long? I was curious as to why these chapters were chosen while so many others were skipped.  Of course the main reason why these chapters were chosen is because they have the most significant theological content, but also, I believe, because they are some of the more upbeat chapters, and the ones that move the narrative along.  I’ll go into what I mean by that more in a moment.

I’d like to discuss some of the background information of the book of Job. As you may have noticed from the title of the post, Job is generally categorized by scholars as part of the same genre of Wisdom literature that we discussed last week with the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes.  The overall style and purpose of the book of Job can be compared to these other examples of the genre, but you will notice one major difference: Job reads much more like a narrative story than do the other two — at least the beginning and conclusion of the book are set up in narrative style.  However, generally speaking, the middle chapters are poetic dialogues that are more in line with Proverbs and, especially, Ecclesiastes. The Job of these dialogues doesn’t seem as heroic or optimistic as the Job in the opening and closing narratives. My hunch is that this is one of the main reasons why the lesson plan doesn’t cover much of this “middle” material.  Whereas the book of Proverbs contains mostly positive, encouraging advice, the dialogues that run through the middle of Job are much more pessimistic — more similar to the style of Ecclesiastes.  John J. Collins expounds on this disparity.

The Book of Proverbs represents “normal” wisdom in ancient Israel. It has much in common with the instructional literature of the ancient Near East, and it is characterized by a positive view of the world and confidence in its order and justice. This worldview was open to criticism, however, and already in antiquity some scribes found the traditional claims of wisdom problematic. The Wisdom tradition gave rise to two great works that questioned the assumptions on which the world of Proverbs was built. These works are the books of Job and Qoheleth (Ecclesiastes). ((John J. Collins, Introduction to the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2004), 505))

But what does he mean by Job questioning the wisdom tradition as found in Proverbs? Well, in Proverbs the idea is that if you do the right thing, you will be blessed. If you keep the commandments, then God will cause you to prosper.  Job, however, addresses the question of why the righteous sometimes suffer while the wicked seem to prosper.  This is an age-old question that is difficult to answer.  It is up to you to decide whether the book of Job answers this question, but we do see in the narrative that Job does (not, however, without some degree of moaning and complaining) endure his trials faithfully, and is blessed abundantly by the Lord.

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Out with the Old Moses, In with the New Joshua

Musings on Deuteronomy/Joshua (Old Testament Lessons 17 and 18)

As I was studying recently about the “transfer of power” from the prophet Moses to his young aide, Joshua, it hit me that there was a similarity in this motif with the ideas presented in a paper by Julian Morgenstern  that I recently read called “The King-God among the Western Semites and the Meaning of Epiphanes.” This is quite an intriguing, even if somewhat old and outdated, work that looks at the ancient ideology of the Near East regarding kingship. I must preface my thoughts here by explaining that I don’t necessarily share all of Prof. Morgenstern’s reasoning or conclusions, but I found the pattern he describes strangely applicable to the Moses-Joshua narrative.

Morgenstern’s argument is that the religious traditions of the Ancient Near East, which he sees as background to, and an influence on, Israel’s religious thought, were associated with their understanding of the patterns of nature.  More specifically, the life-cycle of their gods, in their view, was reflected in, for example, the annual cycles of the sun that provide the different seasons, or the vegetation cycles of death in the winter and rebirth in the spring.  Examples of these traditions pervade the religions of the ancient world.

Morgenstern explains that, for example, in the ancient Tyrian (western-Semitic) religion, Baal-Haddad was the reigning god, the god of the storms, who brought rain and fertility to the earth. His consort was Astarte, the mother goddess who was represented as a type of Mother Earth. Their offspring was Tammuz, who was represented by the yearly crops. According to the myth, in the spring, Tammuz, the divine child, was born and grew to maturity to the point where he was identified with, or even supplanted, the Father god. In the autumn, the old god was seen as dying and being buried, only to be born again in the spring as the young god. The cycle repeated itself annually as the young god rose up from the soil (from the Underworld), grew up to become the old Father god, died, and then was born again with new and vigorous life.  (For me, personally, I think it is hard for us to know if this is how the ancients actually saw their gods, as dying and resurrecting each year, or if they saw the cycles of nature as merely reflecting a more archetypal divine example)

Later on, the Tyrian king Hiram, who had so much influence on Solomon and the building of his temple, supposedly reformed his people’s religion so that it no longer followed the pattern of the vegetation cycle, but followed the solar phases. The main phases of this new belief were following the steadily increasing light of the winter/spring sun and then the receding radiance of the summer/autumn sun. The summer/autumn sun, representing the god Baal-Shamem, grew older and dimmer as the year went on, until at the winter solstice, the point of least light in the year, the old god was believed to have died, fallen asleep, or departed on a journey.  The sun-god journeys to the darkness of the Netherworld through the portals of the West, only to be reborn far in the East. When he is reborn as the winter/spring sun, he is Melcarth, the Lord of Heaven, the young warrior god that brings new life as he grows in brightness and strength throughout these seasons of the year. Essentially, according to Morgenstern, the two gods, Baal-Shamem and Melcarth, were the same god, but in two basic phases — one mortal and one immortal. Often, the old god never truly dies but is replaced in the world of the living by the young god, who rules from his throne. The old god continues to rule, but more remotely, from the realm of the Afterlife. This general pattern can be seen in similar Egyptian beliefs regarding the dying Osiris who is avenged and “replaced” by his son Horus, the Greek traditions of the son god killing and replacing the father god, Zeus and Heracles, the Phoenix, Babylonian beliefs regarding Marduk, and so on.

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