Why So Apocalyptic? Part II: To Wipe Away Every Tear

A good friend asked me what I was up to during this time of quarantine, and I told her that I had been writing about apocalyptic literature. In typical self-pitying fashion, I lamented to her that my earlier posts did not generate as many pageviews as I thought such a compelling topic would. To this she responded, "Duh, Ian! People don't want to read about the apocalypse right now. They want to read something happy. They want to hear some good news." Yet in my mind I was thinking, But apocalyptic literature is all about good news!

In my last post I wrote about how different biblical traditions dealt with the nagging question of why good and faithful people suffered so much. One reason why apocalyptic thought developed was because it provided a sense of God's justice. For them, even though the righteous suffered now under the weight of oppression, they would be rewarded for their fidelity while the persecutors and backsliders would get their comeuppances in the end. Judgement is a common denominator in nearly all apocalyptic literature, because those who wrote it lived in a world where justice was not realized. But there was another reason why these books with frightening imagery and allusions to cosmic destruction captured the imaginations of their audience. As strange as it may seem, apocalyptic literature offered comfort, hope, and consolation.

Apocalyptic thought feeds on oppression. Sometimes that oppression is merely perceived, like when Hellenism was slowly eroding away Jewish culture. It wasn't overt persecution, but it gave rise to apocalyptic books, like The Watchers, in which apostasy and foreign influences are the enemy. The temptation to compromise one's religious values or cultural identity spurred a movement that clearly delineated how God's justice would be served. Today, however, we look at the impact of conflict - deadly conflict - because when the trauma becomes real, and people are dying all around you, it feels like the freakin' end of the world. And if that isn't a recipe for apocalypticism, I don't know what is.¹

I left off in the Greek period of Jewish biblical history with mention of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. We're looking at the years 175-163 BCE. The empire of Alexander the Great had long since been divided up among his successors after his death. Palestine originally fell under Ptolemaic control (based in Egypt) but was later usurped by the Seleucid kingdom, which controlled Asia Minor, Syria, and Mesopotamia. Antiochus was a Seleucid ruler who was kind of an egomaniac. (I mean, his self-given title, Epiphanes was akin to God Manifest.) A failed campaign against the Ptolemaic kingdom left him in financial straits, so he stormed the temple in Jerusalem and stole from the treasury. Naturally, the Jews rioted and rebelled, which provoked a mass slaughter. As a result, Antiochus basically made Jewish religious practice a capital offense. On top of everything else, he even desecrated their temple by erecting in it an image of Zeus and sacrificing pigs on the altar.²

1 & 2 Maccabees chronicle, among other things, the events of Antiochus' reign and the Maccabean revolt led by Judas Maccabeus. Prior to the Jewish revolt's surprising success, the two books of Maccabees describe the horrific plight under Antichocus' anti-Jewish policies. For example, "Whoever was found with a scroll of the covenant, and whoever observed the law, was condemned to death by royal decree... In keeping with the decree, they put to death women who had their children circumcised, and they hung their babies from their necks; their families also and those who had circumcised them were killed (1 Macc 1:57, 50-61). The second book of Maccabees details the gruesome torture and martyrdom of a woman and her seven sons, many of whom offer last words that indicate a growing belief in the resurrection of the dead. (I highly encourage you to read chapter 7 of 2 Maccabees.) Now regardless of the how historically accurate these accounts are, it's clear that they were inspired by the bloody reign of a Gentile king bent on crushing all who did not succumb to his forced Hellenistic assimilation.

It's conditions like these that propelled apocalyptic thought forward. For wisdom literature, suffering was just a part of God's larger mysterious plan or, if nothing else, simply an inevitable part of life. But anyone who has experienced extreme sorrow and loss knows that such pious rationalities don't cut it when you're feeling that much pain. For the prophets, suffering was either merited for breaking the covenant or would be resolved at some point in the vague future. For the apocalyptist, though, people were dying for the sake of the covenant, and the time for their affliction to end had to be coming soon! Things had gotten so bad that God had to radically intervene and hit the reset button on the world.

Think of the game Mario Bros. There's no need to start the game over when things are going well, but when you're down to one life, and you've failed to beat Bowser twice already, it may just be time to press Reset and start fresh. In the end, that beast will be defeated once and for all. A more biblical example would be Noah and the ark. Basically, humanity had become so sinful that God wiped everything out with a massive flood and started over again with a renewed earth. This is one of the reasons that allusions to the flood story are common in apocalyptic writings. God had restored creation to paradise once before, and he could do it again.

 You might think that there is nothing consoling about the destruction of life on earth, but those writing or listening to apocalyptic texts felt that they were already approaching or in the midst of the end times. Remember, the basic principle of apocalypticism was that God was in control. So where was God's sovereignty whenever their world started falling apart and it seemed like chaos and bloodshed reigned? For them, it meant God's great reset was coming. Like the peak of a heatwave or a tumultuous storm just before the cool relief of a cold front, God was about to act in some definitive way. For those who died there would be resurrection (as with the mother and her seven sons in 2 Maccabees), and for those who survived they would see God's glory and his reign established firmly on the earth. This is what gave hope and consolation in times of such crisis.

One of the more fascinating characteristics of apocalyptic literature is ex eventu prophecy. Apocalyptic texts, like Daniel or the apocryphal (i.e. non-canonical) books of Enoch, were not actually written by those men or even around the time when they supposedly existed. They were written much later. Daniel, for example, is a figure from the Babylonian exile. He sees a vision of beasts that represent four historical kingdoms beginning with the Babylonians and ending with Greeks. He specifically points out a horn on the fourth beast's head that speaks arrogantly and wages war against the holy ones. This is a symbol of Antiochus IV. But the character of Daniel is from several hundred years before Antiochus. So while fundamentalists would say that Daniel foresaw the reign of the Greek empire, what is really going on is ex eventu prophecy. The author of the book retrojects historical events that he's familiar with into the the visions of his protagonist.

Whether or not the original audience believed that Daniel, Enoch, or whoever else is cast as an apocalyptic visionary actually foretold various periods of history is not as important as what this literary technique did to comfort those in crisis. Using ex eventu prophecy to give a bird's-eye view of time emphasized God's authority over history. It also helped them to process time into distinct periods, which meant that, just as with all the other chapters of history, their age of consternation and suffering would come to an end. 

Furthermore, the visionary "prophesies" events leading right up to the situation in which the author and audience presently find themselves, but then he sees a little further than their current lived experience into a new and glorious period of God's reign. This gave the impression that God's intervention was close at hand. If the author and audience believed they were living in the penultimate period of tribulation and devastation, then the ultimate period of God's reign and renewal would naturally follow. Apocalyptic literature, though weird and at times frightening, usually ends on a happy note.

But when the court is convened,

and his dominion is taken away

to be abolished and completely destroyed,

Then the kingship and dominion and majesty

of all the kingdoms under the heavens

shall be given to the people of the holy ones of the Most High,

Whose kingship shall be an everlasting kingship,

whom all dominions shall serve and obey. (Daniel 7:26-27)

Ten-horned beasts, ravaging he-goats, seven-headed dragons, and monstrous locusts may be the stuff of nightmares for us. But ancient Jews (and early Christians) between 200 BCE and 200 CE were already living their worst nightmares. They experienced the chaos of mad kings and emperors, religious persecution, internal corruption, apostasy, and even death for living their faith. Mere words and pious platitudes were not going to satisfy. They needed symbols as extreme as the reality they were facing to meet them were they were in the midst of their turmoil. As I write this, it makes me wonder: is this why The Tiger King became so popular during this covid-19 pandemic? I mean, think about it. Isn't it a relief to know that, as insane as our world feels right now, it's not quite as crazy as the likes of Joe Exotic and Carole Baskin? Something to think about.³

But whereas Tiger King might hold our attention because its mayhem and madness are cathartic, apocalyptic literature didn't stop with the terrifying beasts and cosmic catastrophes. The terror and destruction always gave way to the manifestation of God's glory. God's kingdom would finally be inaugurated, the dead would be raised to new life, and heaven and earth would be recreated. This is why apocalyptic literature was so consoling. Yes, to those who compromised their faith and moral values, the fearsome imagery and prospect of God's judgment was meant to wake them up from their laxity. On the other hand, to those who were enduring persecution even unto death, the promise of God and his heavenly forces bringing an end to oppression brought hope. The assurance that the faithful who had died would be resurrected gave them comfort and strength.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

I know that this pandemic has been a crazy and difficult time to say the least. Every day thousands of people are dying from covid-19. Unemployment is in the millions in the U.S. alone. And even as stay-at-home orders are being eased, there's too much fear and uncertainty to take much advantage of it. Moreover, the tension that society is experiencing in this country is hitting a boiling point - at it's worst, manifesting itself in armed protests. And if all of that wasn't enough, the probability of a second wave looms heavy over all our heads.⁴

It's no surprise that my friend thought that I should be writing about happier things than the apocalypse. Yet while a viral plague is obviously not the same thing as, say, a hostile overlord destroying a race's religious and cultural identity, people have been asking if this pandemic is an apocalyptic event. Like our Jewish and early Christian ancestors, who experienced their own tribulations and sought comfort in a revelation that God was in control, would be victorious, and would raise up the faithful, we too want to know that God is still with us. The answer apocalyptic literature gives is a resounding Yes, and he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

My scriptural recommendation this week is Revelation 20:1-21:7. Don't overthink the symbols, but simply let this passage fill you with consolation. Though I do not think that the covid-19 crisis is a sign of the end times, we are nevertheless experiencing a challenging period in history that is rapidly changing our world. Apocalyptic literature was written to meet people in the midst of such crises, to give them courage and to remind them that God was more powerful than even death itself. So maybe we can take away some good news from it too. Until next time...

Peace and all good,
Bro. Ian

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1 The idea of compromise and conflict as major influences on apocalyptic literature derives from Gregory Stevenson, A Slaughtered Lamb: Revelation and the Apocalyptic Response to Evil and Suffering, (Abilene, ACU Press, 2013), 74-87.^↩
2 Stephen L. Harris and Robert L. Platzner, The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, (Boston: McGraw Hill, 2003), 361.^↩
3 For the record, I haven't watched The Tiger King... as of now, anyway.^↩
4 Oh yeah, and Murder Hornets now makes Apocalyptic Bingo.^↩

Those Other Books: Where did the Bible come from? Part III

            First of all, I hope you are enjoying the start of this merciful season of Lent. And just as a reminder, don't forget to take the blog survey by clicking here if you haven't already. Your input is greatly appreciated.

            One of the more common questions I get asked about the Bible is Why do Catholic and Protestant Bibles differ? or Why do Catholic Bibles have more books than Protestant Bibles? The answer – and the purpose of last week's post on the Greek period of Jewish history – lies with something called the Septuagint [sep-TOO-ah-jint]. I know, it sounds all sorts of crazy fancy... and you're right. It is! So get ready to impress your friends at cocktail parties with phrases like, "Yes, well personally I don't think that will have as much impact on the Lakers' game as the Septuagint did on biblical literature." Meanwhile, your friends will cock their heads to one side and wonder why you're bringing up the Septuagint in a conversation about the NBA.

            So what is the Septuagint anyway? Simply put, it is the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures. If you recall from last week's post, Jews were scattered all over the Mediterranean, and, as it happens when populations move and assimilate, these Jewish communities ceased speaking their native tongue and adopted the common language of the day, Greek. Thus there became a need for translations of the Hebrew Scriptures into a language that was more accessible for study and worship. The name "Septuagint" comes from the Latin septuaginta meaning "seventy." The seventy refers to an ancient legend that there were 70 or 72 different Jewish scribes charged with the task of translating the Torah.[1] Supposedly, they were all separated from one another in the process, and despite being sequestered as they worked, they all miraculously turned up with the exact same translation of the Torah! Personally I don't buy that story, but  regardless, there were definitely Greek translations of the Hebrew Scriptures at least as early as the 2^nd century BCE – probably even earlier – and if you recall, that century was wrought with turmoil thanks to that son of a beast, Antiochus IV.

            Much of the translating is thought to have occurred in or around Alexandria, Egypt, where a rather large population of Diaspora Jews lived. (See more in last week's post about the Diaspora). I'd imagine that some copies of these translations would have been stored in the famous Library of Alexandria back then. Unfortunately, this library suffered a series of fires and was destroyed in ancient times. If you're a nerd like me, I'm sure you'd agree that the single greatest tragedy in human history – other than any which involved the loss of human life, of course – is the destruction of the Alexandrian Library. Oy! To think of what information we might know today, had it not been for that terrible decimation of books and scrolls! After reading this post, do me a favor and hug a book.

            Thankfully, plenty of Greek copies of Jewish texts were composed and circulated in the 2^nd and 1^st centuries BCE and well into the 1^st century CE (Common Era, or A.D.). Not surprisingly, later editions of the Septuagint differed from the earlier translations – kind of like today when a new edition of a college textbook comes out. The new algebra book might have only changed slightly, or maybe a new chapter or two was added, but you still have to pay through the nose for that brand new copy, dagnabit! Likewise, these later editions and manuscripts varied in content. Some manuscripts were strictly the books of the Torah. Some included the Prophets and the Writings as well as those books of the Bible which are not in the today's Jewish and Protestant canons (i.e. the Apocrypha, a.k.a. deuterocanonical books). And here is where things get kind of complicated.

            Since the list of books varied in these Greek translations, it is highly unlikely that there was ever a singular canon of scriptures – a definitive collection of sacred books – to come out of Alexandria.[2] This is probably because there wasn't such a thing as a "closed canon of Scripture," – that is, a list of authoritative books to which no more could be added or removed – until much later in history. There had not yet been a definitive agreement that these books were authoritative and those books were not.

            Some Septuagint manuscripts included books like Tobit, Judith, 1 & 2 Maccabees, The Book of Sirach (a.k.a. The Wisdom of Ben Sira), The Wisdom of Solomon, Baruch, and longer versions of Daniel and Esther. These books are the seven books (plus the additions to Daniel and Esther) which the Catholic Church refers to as "detuerocanonical" (i.e. second or later canon). Most Protestants will refer to these as "Apocrypha" which simply means "hidden." Interestingly enough, there were other apocryphal books than just these seven which had also been included in the Septuagint. Some Eastern Orthodox churches consider these books authoritative as well and include them in their canons of scripture: for example, The Prayer of Manasseh, Psalm 151, 1 Esdras, and 3 Maccabees.

            So why did these books eventually get the boot? Why don't they appear in the Jewish canon of Scripture? A few reasons. When it came to which books were authoritative in the minds of the Jewish rabbis of the 1^st & 2^nd century CE, two rules of thumb held sway: Older is better than newer, and Hebrew is better than Greek. If the book had some pedigree and withstood the test of time, like the Torah or the prophets, then it ought to be canonized as Scripture. The Johnny-come-latelies, like those books mentioned above, just hadn't been around as long as the others. Not only that, but they were written in Greek! The language of the Gentiles! Now granted, some were probably originally written in Hebrew or Aramaic, and some Hebrew and Aramaic copies of these texts have since been discovered. But they were probably more widely known in their Greek form. The Septuagint as a whole was held suspect by some Jewish leaders because, as the phrase goes, every translation is an interpretation. Did the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures corrupt the original meaning of the Hebrew? Such was their concern.

            However, what really got the rabbis' goat about these books and the Septuagint as a whole was that the new Christian movement – which, for all intents and purposes, must have seemed like one giant heresy to them – used the Greek Septuagint to justify its claims about Christ. All of the New Testament was written in Greek after all. This Greek translation of their sacred texts, which had been translated for Jews by Jews, was now tainted by these Christians (of both Jewish and Gentile origin) who referenced it.

            As for those questionable books found within the Septuagint, these were thoroughly Jewish, written by Jews and most of which (if not all) before the time of Christ. However, since they were written much later than most of the other Jewish scriptures, they reflected later theological developments. Some of these concepts resonated very much with the Christian movement – things like "innovative ideas about the afterlife (Wisdom of Solomon)... [or] the concept of heavenly reward for martyrdom (2 Maccabees)."[3] As a result, these books fell out of favor among the Jewish rabbis in the 1^st and 2^nd centuries CE, and when the Jewish leaders did have a definitive canon of scripture, these books were not included among them. And that, my friends, is how these books became the red-headed step-children of Scripture. (For the record, I have absolutely nothing against step-children or people of red hair.)

            But these books have not always had an easy go among Christians either. Some of the leaders of the early Church (2^nd – 5^th centuries) felt that the Septuagint and even the later books contained within it were legit – guys like Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Eusebius, and Augustine. St. Jerome (346-420 CE), however, was like that one out of five dentists who does not endorse Trident sugar-free gum. Jerome translated the Scriptures into Latin in what is known as the "Vulgate." He wasn't crazy about some of the apocryphal/deuterocanonical books. Much to the surprise of his contemporaries, he preferred translating and revising from the Hebrew texts as much as he could, rather than from the Greek Septuagint. He begrudgingly translated Tobit and Judith from Aramaic sources, but he did not translate or even revise Baruch, 1 & 2 Maccabees, Sirach, or Wisdom of Solomon, as they were not in Hebrew canons. Copies of those books circulated in older Latin versions of the Bible that existed before Jerome's translation, so they found their way into the Vulgate in their old Latin form untouched by Jerome.

St. Jerome Writing, Caravaggio, 1605-1606

St. Jerome: Patron saint of biblical scholars and grumpy, old men

            So what happened to these books in the Protestant Bibles? Why did they get removed from their canon of Scripture? For one, these later books of Scripture had always had an iffy history, as evidenced by St. Jerome's indifference toward them. During the Protestant Reformation of the 1500s, greater emphasis was placed on Scripture – case in point, Martin Luther's famous adage, sola scriptura (Scripture alone!). And much like the ancient rabbis, the reformers felt that, when it came to the Old Testament, older was better than newer, and Hebrew was better than Greek... and definitely better than Latin. Besides, the Jewish canon of Scripture had long since omitted these later books, so, in their opinion, why differ from the original receivers of the Scriptural tradition? Thus, whenever Protestant editions of the Bible were printed, the apocryphal books were only added as an appendix, if added at all. They weren't viewed as bad, just not canonical or authoritative.

            The Eastern Orthodox Church maintained the apocryphal books including 1 Esdras, the Prayer of Manasseh, and 3 Maccabees, which are not in the Catholic canon. Some, like the Russian Orthodox Church or the Ethiopian Church, consider even more books to be canonical. Interestingly – and this was news to me before researching for this post – the Catholic Church accepted the books of 1 & 2 Esdras and the Prayer of Manasseh as sacred up until the Council of Trent (1546)! It was the Council of Trent, which followed on the heels of the Protestant Reformation, that more or less closed the Catholic canon of Scripture. No more books would be added, and no other books would be removed. Those seven deuterocanonical books plus the Greek additions to Daniel and Esther were there to stay.

            So in the grand scheme of things, should these books drive such a wedge between Protestants and Catholics today? Should Catholic and Orthodox Christians be criticized for including them, or should Protestants be criticized for omitting them? Personally, I don't think so either way. The Catholic Church believes the deuterocanonical books to be inspired and uses them in liturgy. I find them rather interesting, especially Tobit – that book can be laugh-out-loud funny at times – and ultimately, I believe they have sacred value. Is reading them or not reading them essential for salvation? Nah, I don't believe so. I do believe, however, that as we nurture our relationship with God, we benefit well from reading/hearing the Word of the God in Scripture, especially the Gospels. If you believe that these later books were inspired by the Holy Spirit, great! If not, well, there are 66 other books of the Bible for you to enjoy and be nourished from.

            Since this post had so much to do with the Apocrypha/deuterocanonical books, my scriptural recommendations for this week come from some wisdom literature of the 2^nd century BCE, the Book of Sirach. An excellent passage on honoring your parents can be found in Sirach 3:1-16. Or for a great passage on mercy toward the poor, see 3:30-4:10. And lastly, I recommend the passage on true friendship in 6:5-17.

            As you read from this ancient Jewish sage, ask yourself: What do I find challenging in these passages? What do I really like about them? How have they made me rethink about my attitudes toward my parents, or those in need, or about what constitutes a true friend? What is God saying to me through these words? What Truth do I hear?

            If you don't own a Bible that includes Sirach, no worries. I always link the chapter and verses to www.Biblegateway.com, so you can click on those and read the passages on-line. Finally, as is routine for me to say, I encourage comments and questions via the comment box below, Facebook, Twitter, or e-mail. So until next time...

Peace and all good [4]

Also, don't forget about the survey.

           

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[1] Jennifer M. Dines, The Septuagint, (New York: T&T Clark LTD, 2004), 1.

[2] Ibid, 12.

[3] Stephen L. Harris and Robert L. Platzner, The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible, (Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2003), 348.

[4] This post would not have been possible without these other sources.

Collins, John J. “Apocrypha.” The HarperCollins Encyclopedia of Catholicism. Edited by Richard P. McBrien. San Francisco: Harper, 1995.

Hartman, L. F., B. F. Peebles, and M. Stevenson. “Vulgate.” New Catholic Encyclopedia, 2nd ed. Edited by Berard L. Marthaler. 15 vols. New York: Gale, 2003.

Schiffman, Lawrence H. Texts and Traditions: A Source Reader for the Study of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism. Hoboken, NJ: KTAV Publishing House, 1998.  

Greek Week! The Bible and the Hellenistic Period

            My last two posts have been focused on the Three Cs of the Bible: composition, compilation, and canonization. This week, however, is going to deviate from that theme slightly. The other day, while enjoying a plate of huevos rancheros, I was skimming over a book on the Septuagint, because really... why not? Anyway, it occurred to me that I should offer a little bit of background on the Greek (a.k.a. Hellenistic) period of Jewish history first. This will set the stage for talking about the books of Esther and Daniel, apocalyptic literature and Apocrypha, the Roman period, and ultimately Fiddler on the Roof and Yentl.

            Last week's post talked a little bit about the return of the Jews back to their homeland after the exile. However, not all of the Jews returned to Judea. Some stayed in Babylon; some went to Egypt, others to Syria, some to Asia Minor (modern day Turkey), and so on throughout the Mediterranean. Jewish peoples had also been dispersed from their homeland as a result of the Assyrian deportation of Israel some 140 years before the Babylonian exile. This scattering of the Jewish people is known as the Diaspora. Despite cultural clashes with the pagans in whose lands they resided, these communities thrived and managed to preserve their own unique faith, law, and culture. For the most part, Jews of the Diaspora or in Judea lived relatively tranquil lives under Persian rule. But then Alexander the Great (356 – 323 BCE) came about and conquered the Persians... and just about everyone else as well. He loved Greek culture so much, he thought everyone would love it too. I mean, gosh, why wouldn't they? Have you ever tried a gyro? They're delicious!

            Well... some Jews thought this was okay and assimilated to the Hellenistic culture of the day – usually the wealthy ones who benefited from life under Greek rule. But others most definitely did not! After Alexander's death, his empire was cut up like a cake, and the pressure for assimilation continued. The Egyptian slice of that cake was ruled by the Ptolemies (I think the P is silent), and they also had control of Palestine – the Greek name of that territory formerly known as Israel and Judah. Even more confusing... what had been Judah was now called Judea and was considered a province in the region of Palestine. Why did Judea get the works? That's nobody's business but the Greeks. (Man, I wished that rhymed.) Anyway, there was a rather large slice of the empire that extended from Asia Minor all the way to modern day Afghanistan. This portion was ruled by the Seleucid dynasty, and they took over Palestine from the Ptolemies in 199 BCE.

Follow the link here to visit the map's original site

            During the first century and a half of Greek domination, I'm sure life could not have been too cozy for faithful Jews whether in Palestine or of the Diaspora. There were surely culture clashes between Jews who refused to assimilate on the one hand and the Gentiles (non-Jews) and Hellenized Jews on the other. But things didn't get really bad until Antiochus IV usurped the Seleucid throne in 178 BCE. By the way, he also called himself Antiochus Epiphanes, suggesting that he was god manifest and proving just what kind of an egomaniac he was. Here he is below. Yeesh.

Google Images

            This man was probably clinically insane, and he pretty much took a dump on Judaism around the year 167 BCE, effectively outlawing it and making Jewish observances of their law punishable by death! Everything from having your infant son circumcised to refusing to eat pork could have the most grisly consequences. Furthermore, he desecrated the Temple – the one that had been rebuilt during the post-exilic period of the Reconstruction – by confiscating its treasury, erecting in it a statue of Zeus, and slaughtering pigs on the altar... and you know how the Jews felt about pork. I cannot express enough how heinous all of these things were to the Jews – their holiest site defiled; people being martyred for living according to God's law. They were being crushed and defeated once again, and it must have felt like the end of the world!

            (For a ridiculously over-simplified summary of Jewish life under Antiochus IV, I invite you to click here to see the Rugrats version of his reign. It's a far less violent depiction of a horrific period in history, but oddly enough captures the idea of cultural tension and assimilation pretty well.)

Google Images

             Now enter Mattathias and his sons, particularly Judas Maccabeus. This family and their supporters, known as the Maccabees after Judas Maccabeus, led a Judean revolt against Antiochus and the Seleucid empire. Long story short, their revolt was surprisingly successful. They rededicated the Temple around the year 165 BCE – from which derives Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights – and not long after the death of Antiochus IV and the rebel leader, Judas Maccabeus, they were able to secure fairly independent rule under J.M.'s descendants. And so began the Hasmonean dynasty, a line of priest-kings that reigned from 160 – 63 BCE. Fabulous, right? Or was it? On paper this sounds pretty good. The Jews of Palestine were finally self-governing again. But apparently the Hasmoneans were rather corrupt rulers and were not well appreciated by some Jewish groups. It is important to keep this unpopular Hasmonean dynasty in mind for later posts, but to go on about them now would be to get ahead of myself.

            It was in this environment, a world of persecution by the Greeks, that the books of Daniel and Esther were written. Both were likely composed around the time of Antiochus IV. Both are meant to offers Jews consolation and courage to remain faithful to God and to their national identity under foreign oppression. The book of Esther is a novella set in Persia. In it, the Jewish people are saved from genocide thanks to the Jewish consort to the Persian king who pleads to him on her people's behalf. Interestingly enough, God does not intervene directly in the story, though the rescue of the Jews through the pious woman's actions is viewed as divine providence.

            The book of Daniel is a compilation of books. In the first of these (chapters 1-6), the title character is portrayed as an interpreter of dreams/messages (Daniel 2 and 4-5). He is also depicted as a model of Jewish religious observance in the midst of the Babylonian exile. As in Esther, this was to encourage readers during the Hellenistic period to maintain their Jewish identity in the face of cultural opposition from oppressors. In the second section of Daniel, he is more of an apocalyptic visionary (Daniel 7-12). Frankly some of the visions in Daniel sound as if he's trippin', but really they're meant to point to the dire situations the Jewish audience was facing under the reign of Antiochus IV and to give them hope of salvation.

            Apocalyptic literature seems very bizarre and frightening to us today, but it served an important purpose for its time and, believe it or not, was actually meant to be a consolation to the readers, not a horror movie. The belief behind it was that things in the world had had gotten so bad that God needed to intervene directly. God basically had to hit the reset button on the world – much like you would in a Mario Brothers game when you have no lives left and you're about to face King Koopa for the third time. The reset button God would press, however, wasn't so much an annihilation of  the world as it was an end of the world as they knew it and ultimately a renewal of the world. Apocalyptic literature usually ends with the establishment of God's reign, for it was believed that God Himself – not a pagan ruler, not the Hasmoneans – should be the sovereign ruler of Israel.

            As for the nightmarish creatures and scenarios of apocalyptic literature, these were usually meant to symbolize evil or unfavorable pagan kingdoms. In Daniel 7:7-8, the Seleucid dynasty is depicted as a terrible beast with horns. The little horn with eyes that speaks arrogantly represents Antiochus IV. Similarly, the he-goat in chapter 8 also symbolizes the Greek empire and Antiochus. But why such whacked-out imagery? One reason why this is typical of apocalyptic literature is because the crazy symbolism was meant to conceal the meaning of the text should the scroll find itself in the wrong hands. Furthermore, as my apocalyptic lit. professor would say, "Extreme times call for extreme literature.... Nobody writes apocalyptic literature sitting at a Starbucks drinking lattes!" Mind-blowing tragedy had to be met with something just as mind-blowing to read. That is why the book of Revelation in the New Testament is so tripped out. The author and audience were likely under oppressive situations, and rather than frighten the original hearers – as it does for readers today – apocalyptic literature actually provided hope in a renewed earth whose ruler would ultimately be God.

            Daniel and Esther are just two examples of Jewish literature written during the Greek period, and they appear in both the Jewish canon and all of the Christian canons. But Jews everywhere were composing religious works in the centuries leading up to the time of Jesus and beyond. Some are part of certain canons of Scripture, and others never made it into any official canon. Like Daniel, some were apocalyptic (e.g. the book of Enoch, which is not in any canon of Scripture and so is called apocryphal). Some were not apocalyptic but rather tell the history, or a version of history, of the Maccabean revolt – namely 1 and 2 Maccabees which are found in Catholic and Orthodox Bibles.

            Other writings were like the book of Esther, novellas for Jews of the Diaspora about Jewish piety in foreign lands. The book of Tobit (again, in Catholic and Orthodox Bibles) is a rather cute story set in Assyria. Tobit, a devout Jewish deportee in Assyria, goes blind when bird droppings fall into his eyes. In misery and close to death, he sends his son, Tobiah, on a mission to bring back a sum of money he had deposited in a distant land before he dies. He is accompanied on his journey by Raphael, an angel incognito, and he marries a woman who had been afflicted by a demon that would kill her husbands on their respective wedding nights (yikes!). Luckily, thanks to Raphael, Tobiah escapes that same fate. He returns home with his bride and honorably buries his deceased parents.

            Like Esther, Judith also is another fictional novella in which Israel is saved by the hand of a woman. Much like the book of Judges, in which the woman, Jael, drives a tent peg into the head of an enemy general, Judith deceives the Assyrian general, Holofernes, and cuts off his head. As with Esther and Jael, the achievement of salvation by the actions of a pious woman in Judith only underscores the mighty and providential work of God in saving his people.

Judith and Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileschi. Google Images

            For reasons I hope to finally cover in the following post, the books of 1 & 2 Maccabees, Tobit, Judith and other books only made it into Catholic and Orthodox canons of Scripture. They are not part of today's Jewish or Protestant canons. Much of this has to do with the use of the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures known has the Septuagint, but we'll get into that next week. For now, however, I hope a little context is provided for the Hellenistic age and the kind of literature it inspired - especially the stuff from the 2^nd century (200-100 BCE), because those books are wild.

            Since today's post had a bit to do with apocalyptic literature, I suggest reading chapter 7 of Daniel. As I mentioned, it uses apocalyptic imagery to symbolize the succession of conquering empires, particularly the Seleucids, who persecuted the Jews. It also assures its 2^nd  century audience that God will eventually be the definitive ruler of the world and will establish an everlasting kingdom. I recommend using a Bible that has good explanatory footnotes for this passage, like the New American Bible. These will provide some historical context as you read. Given that this post also referred to the plight of persecuted and displaced Jews in foreign lands, perhaps you could use your reading of Daniel 7 to pray for immigrants and refugees throughout the world. So many people today must flee their homelands because of war, gang violence, and crushing poverty. Daniel 7 assures us that the "beasts" of war and destruction will be conquered by God, and God will establish his kingdom – a kingdom we know more clearly from the New Testament to be one of love, mercy, peace, justice, generosity, humility, patience, and gentleness.

            As always, I welcome questions and comments via e-mail (biblecodega@gmail.com) Facebook, Twitter (@biblecodega), and the comment box below. Today, however, and for the rest of the month, I am making a special request. Embedded here is a survey of the Bible Codega blog. As some of you know, this blog is part of a final project for a Master of Arts degree in Pastoral Ministry. I humbly request that you take 10 to 15 minutes to fill out an on-line, anonymous survey in order that I may gather data about the effectiveness of this blog. Please be honest and open in your responses; I will not take offense at anything. In fact, I would be interested in knowing how best I might be able to improve this blog in order to better serve you. It would be most appreciated if you could take this survey before February 29, 2016. To take this survey, simply click here. Thank you all so much, and until next time...

Peace and all good![1]

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[1] This post would not have been possible without this text as a reference:

Harris, Stephen L. and Robert L. Platzner. The Old Testament: An Introduction to the Hebrew Bible. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2003.

The Bible Library: Wisdom & Poetical Books

          I generally do not read a lot of self-help books. Even books on spirituality are not ones to which I naturally gravitate. Much to the chagrin of my novice master, I preferred to read novels when I was in the novitiate. I guess the Wicked series didn't provide enough spiritual nourishment for his taste. Regardless, spirituality and even some self-help books are popular and valuable literature for our day. And whether or not you read such books, perhaps you've taken interest in some article in a newspaper or magazine that offered some advice or "how-to" tips pertaining to your social/domestic life or work – like, the last time you were in a dental office, because seriously... when else do you read the newspaper or a magazine? Maybe you come by these kinds of articles on the Internet through your newsfeed or Pintrest page or simply by searching Google. Further still, many of us have grown up hearing little proverbial phrases that inform our consciences: When in Rome, do as the Romans do; Two wrongs don't make a right; If it ain't broke, don't fix it, etc.

           

            In our on-going tour of the library that is the Bible, today we're exploring the wisdom and poetical books in the Old Testament. These books usually do not make for the most entertaining reading in the Bible. Aside from the peculiar ancient Near Eastern  context – which can be disconcerting enough and oftentimes unpalatable to our contemporary sensitivities – these books generally do not grab our attention.  Let's just say they're no Genesis or Judges. No narratives about sneaky twin brothers (Gen 25:19-34 or Gen 27) or of hair-trimming seductresses ( Jgs 16:4-30) are to be found in them. But wisdom literature and poetry are not entirely foreign to us. As you can see, we are familiar with books, articles or word-of-mouth phrases that offer advice or sometimes sage wisdom. It should be noted, however, that I would not call all of those self-help articles or books "wise."

            According to Richard J. Clifford – without whose book, The Wisdom Literature, this blog post would not be possible, because frankly wisdom literature is not my forte – in reading the wisdom books "you will probably experience a mix of interest, confusion, boredom, and aversion." But he goes on to say that "though the wisdom literature can seem strange to us, it is important to realize that its concerns are modern; in fact they are our concerns."[1] We all wonder what we ought to do in order to live a happier, more balanced life. We might philosophize about the ultimate meaning of our daily toils and hardships... if there even is one. We ponder our relationship with our creator and often wonder why good people suffer.

            Christians look to the person of Jesus and the Gospel life when grappling with these kinds of questions, but these books, as well as all of the books of the Hebrew Scriptures, remain inspired and "permanently valuable."[2] I highly recommend them as a source of ancient wisdom that is ever relevant and has withstood the test of time. Not only that, but these writings also contain some of the most beautiful poetry and prose in Scripture, and they continue to inspire hearts and minds across religious traditions. So let us take a brief tour of some of these books.

            The wisdom/poetical books that are in the canon of scriptures vary according to time and place of composition, and, unlike the books of the Torah or the historical books, their content usually does not refer to a time in actual history or perceived historical memory, though there are exceptions (e.g. the book of Lamentations or Psalm 137). The first book to follow the historical books in the Christian canon of scripture is Job.

Job: Have you ever heard it said of someone (maybe even yourself) "That person has the patience of Job"? If so, you should really read the book of Job. Personally, I don't think he was all that patient. The book is 42 chapters long and from chapters 3-31 Job is kvetching[3] with his so-called friends the whole time. Basically Job was a righteous and wealthy man who revered God. In the realm of the heavenly court, however, a celestial character known as "the satan" makes a wager with God, telling him that Job is only God-fearing because he has nice things. God takes the satan up on the challenge, and Job is cursed with inexpressible misfortune. His so-called friends try to explain to him that he must have done something wrong to deserve all of this, but Job stubbornly defends his innocence. Finally God answers Job's complaint with a beautiful and lengthy speech about God's omnipotence, sovereignty, and incomprehensibly. Job is satisfied with that, and God restores to Job all that was taken away.

            There is so much that can be said of the book of Job. It is truly one of the most beautifully written books in the Old Testament. The Hebrew, I'm told, is some of the most difficult to translate. While I would like to go on about this book, I will only say two things for now.

1.) The character known as "the satan" should not be confused with the devil or a necessarily evil being. The satan literally means "the accuser," or in this context, "the prosecutor."[4] He was a member of the heavenly council whose job it was to report to God his findings about the activities on earth. In other words, the satan was like a district attorney, and that's why everybody hates lawyers.

2.) The book of Job deals with the problem of theodicy: If God is all good and all powerful, why does evil exist; why do bad things happen to innocent people? The book of Job does not actually answer that question forthright. Two things we can take from Job on this point are that pious platitudes are futile in the face of suffering (as indicated by God's rebuke of Job's friends who thought they understood God well), and that God is God, and we are not.

Psalms: I once had a professor tell our class that if the ancient Israelites had iPods, the psalms would be their playlists. The psalms were essentially songs, and that is why a cantor will usually sing the psalm at mass. There are many different forms of psalms: individual laments, communal laments, songs of trust, royal psalms, wisdom psalms, creation psalms, songs of thanksgiving, pilgrimage hymns, etc. [5] I recommend perusing the psalms on your own and meditating on one for a day or week. Some of my favorites are 1, 8, 11, 22, 23, 25, 27, 32, 34, 42 & 43 (they're really one psalm),44,  51, 88, 121-124, 127, 130, 133, 137, and 150. I know. That was a lot of psalms to list, but maybe you will find one of these helpful to you. Or perhaps there is one not listed which you particularly like. The great thing about the psalms is that they run the gamut of human emotions, and, like Job, they're not afraid to express to God frustration and anger. Feel free to comment about some of your favorite psalms.

Proverbs: As I mentioned before, we've all heard proverbial phrases in our lifetimes. The book of Proverbs is an anthology of such wisdom sayings in the Hebrew tradition. The wisdom of Proverbs was not about theoretical knowledge, but rather practical knowledge – knowledge that helped you conduct you life in the correct manner. A wise person does morally good things, and the foolish person is one who does wicked things.[6]

            The female imagery in Proverbs is, like in much of the Bible, ambivalent. There is the "strange" or foreign woman, whose wanton ways will lead a young man to disaster. Yet wisdom itself is personified as a woman as well, and she is written about with exceedingly high regard. Interestingly enough, I knew a woman who was a big fan of the book of Proverbs and had several favorites of her own. Maybe you have or will find a few of your own favorites as well.

Ecclesiastes or Qoheleth: Don't read this book if you're depressed. Its message isn't depressing in and of itself, but one could easily take it the wrong way and think that life is meaningless. That isn't the point of Qoheleth though. Yes, it often repeats that "all is vanity" – which is to say that everything is transient or insubstantial[7] - but life does have meaning, and it does have order. It's order and meaning belong to God, according to Qoheleth, and we should accept that and enjoy the good things God has given us. After all, let's face it; we're all going to die one day, rich and poor alike, so don't bother building up your own wealth and legacy. That is what is what is truly meaningless.

            This is actually a very good book for those stereotypical father figures portrayed in movies like Click or Liar, Liar that have no time for their families because they're too busy with work. The dad in the song "Cat's in the Cradle" by Harry Chapin could also have learned a thing or two from this book. And while that song was probably not inspired by Qoheleth, the song "Turn! Turn! Turn!" by the Byrds definitely was (Ecc 3:1-8). Click the title to give it listen.

The Song of Songs: This is like the Fifty Shades of Grey of the Bible. No, I'm totally kidding. There's no S&M in it. But it is the most erotic bit of literature to be found in the Scriptures. The Song of Songs is a collection of  love songs or speeches by two lovers with occasional choral interjections by the bride's companions and brothers. Some commentators of antiquity, both Jewish and Christian, have suggested that the Song of Songs is an allegory of the love of God for Israel or for the Church, and while that may be a fine way to meditate on this book, there is no reason to believe that it was written as a figurative depiction of God's love. There's not even any mention of God in it. That being said, what a beautiful testament it is that this collection of love poems, which celebrates human love and passion and is so rich in erotic imagery, has been canonized as sacred.

            For this post, I'm going to be brief about the Wisdom of Solomon and the Wisdom of Ben Sira (aka Sirach). These are deuterocanonical books (aka apocryphal) and will probably be treated more in a later post.The Wisdom of Solomon, I can assure you it was not written by Solomon. It was probably written the latest of any other book in the Old Testament (perhaps in the late first century BCE or early first century CE). According to Coogan, it was written "in order to demonstrate the superiority of Judaism and probably to persuade Jews who may have abandoned their religion to return to it."[8]  

           Ben Sira was definitely written sometime between the years 180 BCE 175 BCE, by a man named Jesus (Yeshua) who was the grandson of a man named Sira. Go figure that there was more than one man named Jesus in the ancient Near East. Sirach is an anthology of wisdom that the author apparently had passed down to him. I've recently read a good portion from Ben Sira and find it to be full of very sensible advice. I especially liked his assessment of true friendship in 6:5-17.

            

            And lastly we come to the book of Lamentations – another book one should not read when depressed. It is a collection of poems describing the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BCE, so naturally it is not going to be the most cheerful – not that anyone was expecting it to be with a name like "Lamentations." It had been presumed that that author was the prophet Jeremiah, and that is why it follows his book in the Christian canon of scripture. However, scholars are pretty certain that Jeremiah was not the author. Among the more interesting things about this book is that the first four poems are acrostics in Hebrew. Each line or stanza begins with a successive letter in the Hebrew alphabet. If you've ever written a poem using the letters of someone's name as the start of each line, it's kind of like that, but with the whole alphabet. This was one way to aid people in memorizing the poem... and trust me; the destruction of Jerusalem was not a thing one should forget.

            So having taken a whirlwind tour of the wisdom and poetical writings of the Old Testament, for this week I encourage and recommend reading Psalm 49. It is a good example of a wisdom psalm, and it fits in well with some of the themes of other wisdom literature, like Job and Qoheleth. As you meditate on this psalm, consider what is really important in life. Do you put your trust in material things or in God and in cultivating life-giving relationships? What is your reaction to the psalmist's description of the universality of death? Does death frighten you? Even if it does, do you have hope in redemption and resurrection? What sort of wisdom do you glean from this psalm, and how will it affect your life this week?

            Of course, you do not have to read this particular psalm this week. There are plenty of other good passages from the wisdom/poetical writings. I also recommend reading the entirety of Lamentations, or Song of Songs. They're short books. Or you can peruse the book of Proverbs, or find another psalm you may enjoy reflecting on. If you have the time, I highly encourage reading the whole book of Job (ideally in one or two sittings). All of these are great books for reflection and meditation, and they may just be even better than a self-help book.

            As always I welcome questions and comments. And now that is made even easier! Bible Codega now has a page on Facebook, so I invite you to "like" the page and leave a comment or question there if you prefer. Next week – or sometime after final exams (yikes!) – we'll take a look at prophetic literature.

             For now I leave you with somewhat of a proverb my father used to tell my siblings and me: "Smile! The sunshine's good for the teeth." Not the most morally consequential phrase, but hopefully it brightens your day. Peace!

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[1] Richard J. Clifford, The Wisdom Literature, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998), 17, 18.

[2] Vatican Council II, “Dei Verbum” § 14.

[3] The word "kvetch," by the way, is of Yiddish origin and means to complain persistently. It also sounds an awful lot like another word which can mean the same thing but is not very appropriate.

[4] Michael D. Coogan, The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 483.

[5] Coogan, 462.

[6] Clifford, 51.

[7] Ibid., 103.

[8] Coogan, 518.

The Bible Library: The (not-entirely) Historical Books

            I was asked to give a presentation this past Friday on the Old Testament to the guys in their first year of Franciscan formation. I had one hour, and with so little time I figured that, if nothing else, one ought to have a fairly general idea about the flow of major historical events which influenced the Hebrew Scriptures. Keeping this task to an hour was no easy feat, for if you knew me (or anyone in my family), you'd know that I can take a long time to get to the point of a story and often detour into excessive tangents. That being said, I'm not entirely sure if I accomplished my goal for those guys in formation. However, since today's post is about the so-called historical books, I figured it would be good to distill that hour-plus rant into a post that takes under ten minutes to read... for your sake and for theirs.

            First of all, the books categorized as the "historical books" are not meant to be read like high school history books. Rather, I'd be inclined to think of them as more akin to Shakespeare's historically-based plays. We can talk about Richard III's rise to the throne and his eventual defeat as historical events, but it was Shakespeare's poetry and poignancy that put into his mouth "A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!" Likewise, we know that Julius Caesar was assassinated, but did he really ever say "Et tu, Brute?" ("You too, Brutus?")? Probably not. Nevertheless, the reality of being betrayed by a close friend is a truth that resonates so deeply within us that we invoke these words whenever we feel as if we've been stabbed in the back by someone we love. What I'm getting at is that the "historical books," and much of the Bible for that matter, are not historical in the way we think about history today. But that isn't to say they don't speak the truth.

            I'll let this notion sink in for now and return to it in a later post. It's an important topic and one that I think lot of people find difficult to grapple with. This is also my not-so-covert attempt to keep readers tuned in to subsequent blog postings.

            For now, let's look at the quick-notes version of Old Testament history.

            Last week I wrote about the Torah. It's difficult to pinpoint the events of most of the narratives in the Torah on a timeline, and some passages I wouldn't bother even putting on a timeline at all. The flow of events in the Torah is, however, important to keep in mind. The main things to remember are that Abraham was called by God out of Haran (near the Syrian-Turkey border of today) to immigrate to the land of Canaan (in modern-day Israel/Palestine). He begot Isaac who begot Jacob (aka Israel), and Jacob had twelve sons who more or less became the fathers of the twelve tribes of Israel. These Israelite tribes went down to Egypt from Canaan because of a famine, and many generations later the Israelites were led out of the Egypt by Moses (you know the story... "Let my people go!" and all that). They then spent forty years wandering in the desert. According to Fran Fine from The Nanny it was because they were walking off the Passover meal. According to Scripture it was because the people had sinned. Anthropologists might say it was because they were nomads. Either way, they eventually reached the eastern bank of the Jordan river.

            This brings us now to the setting of the historical books. The book of Joshua concerns the conquest of the land of Canaan. Moses has died, and Joshua is charged to lead the people into the Promised Land and take it from the Canaanite tribes. This book is rather triumphalistic, because it gives the impression that the conquest was reasonably successful. This was likely not the case, but rather wishful thinking on the part of the authors of Joshua.

            Next we have Judges. This book goes to show just how unsuccessful the conquest of Canaan really was. As Michael Coogan says, the book of Joshua "presented the ideal... however, the book of Judges gives a sobering and even appalling presentation of the reality."[1] The Judges were military leaders and/or administrators of pre-monarchic Israel – "the highest authority at the tribal level."[2] At this time there was a lot war with the Canaanites and a lot of in-fighting among the tribes of Israel. Judges is a great book to read, by the way. Some of it reads like a Greek tragedy. Other parts are rather funny, like the story of Ehud (see Judges 3:12-25).

            The book of Ruth takes place at the time of the judges. It doesn't deal with historical material per se, but it is a lovely book to read. And it's only four chapters, so I'm not even going to bother giving a summary of it. But I will note that it has much to say to us to today in terms of welcoming the immigrant or foreigner. Ruth, by the way, is one of the ancestors of king David.

            By 1 & 2 Samuel we get into some chartable history. These books are named after the prophet Samuel, who is kind of a crusty figure in the Old Testament. He anoints the first king of Israel, Saul, even though he'd rather not have a king. He's pretty bent out of shape about it, but God tells him "You are not the one they are rejecting. They are rejecting me as their king" (1 Sam 8:7). Saul then becomes king, but falls out of favor with God and then goes a little nuts. Saul is succeeded, not by his son, but by the ruddy and handsome David. Under David are the tribes of Israel united for the first time, and the rest of the books of Samuel are about David's reign. The united kingdom of Israel is short-live, however. 1 & 2 Kings begins with the death of David, and then follows the line of his successors. Only his first successor, king Solomon, is able to keep the kingdom together (though, for all of Solomon's wisdom, he wasn't that admirable of a king). After Solomon's death (c. 928 BCE) the kingdom is divided by his sons Jeroboam and Rehoboam: the northern kingdom (Israel) which included most of the Israelite tribes, and the southern kingdom (Judah).

            Jumping ahead about 200 years later, the kingdom of Israel in the north falls to the Assyrian empire in 722 BCE. The elite from this kingdom are exiled to Assyria (modern day northern Iraq). King Sennacherib of Assyria tries to take Judah and lays a nasty siege on Jerusalem during reign of Hezekiah, but surprisingly Jerusalem and the southern kingdom does not fall... yet. In 586 BCE the Babylonians (from modern day southern Iraq, and sometimes referred to as the Chaldeans in Scripture) destroy Jerusalem and the Temple and send the upper classes of Judah into exile in Babylon. I cannot express how devastating this was to the Judahite's psyche and religious morale. A lot of prophetic literature concerns either the impending experience of exile, the exile itself, or the return from exile.

            This brings us to the end of 1 & 2 Kings. The exile lasted  almost fifty years. But then the Persian empire (from modern day Iran) captures Babylon in 539 BCE, and the Persian king, Cyrus II, allows the Jews to return to Judah in 538. They begin working on reconstructing the Temple. The next four historical books, 1 & 2 Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah, were written during the time of this reconstruction of Judah. 1 & 2 Chronicles are pretty much a retelling of the books of Samuel and Kings, but from a post-exilic viewpoint and theology. Ezra was a priest and a scribe, and Nehemiah was governor of Judah appointed by the Persian King. These two men, though active at different times, were most responsible for reorganizing Jewish life after the exile.

            I'm going to skip Tobit and Judith for now. They are interesting books, but they don't have much to do with the history of Israel for our purposes today. Perhaps I'll treat them later in a post about Deuterocanonical books. Protestant traditions refer to these books as apocrypha, which simply translated means "hidden." The book of Esther doesn't have much to do with the history of Israel either, but it takes place during the Persian period. Here's a one sentence synopsis: Jewish queen of a Persian king convinces the king not to enact the genocide against her people which his official, Haman, devised. Like many of the books of the Bible, its message is about God saving his people.

            The Persian period lasted from about 539-332 BCE, but, as we may be familiar with from the movies, Alexander the Great conquers a fat chunk of the eastern world including the Persians. Thus the land of Judah came under the control of the Greeks – more specifically, the Seleucid empire. This brings us to the last period of the Old Testament, the Hellenistic period. Do you remember that scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding when Toula's father says, "There are two kinds of people in this world: Greeks and everyone else who wishes they were Greek"? This must have been the attitude of the Greeks back then too, because they loved their culture and thought everyone should love it too. They wanted to spread their Hellenistic ways all over the world. This did not make some folks too happy.

            Now you've got this small nation of Jewish people who have not been self-ruling for over 250 years. They have not only kept their faith and traditions but have become staunchly committed in their beliefs and culture despite the trials of the exile, and now they've got Greeks wanting to Hellenize them – that is, make them Greek. Well, some of them went along with it and assimilated. Others, however, thought the very infringement on their Jewish culture was a heinous persecution. And then Antiochus IV came along and really acid rained all over Jewish religion, essentially making it punishable by death to practice the Jewish faith at all. The books of 1 & 2 Maccabees are concerned with this Hellensitic period in what is known by this time as Judea. Like Tobit and Judith, I'll say a little more about 1 & 2 Maccabees in a later post. But for now I shall say that these books relate the surprisingly successful Maccabean revolt (a Jewish revolt against the Seleucids) which eventually led to the Hasmonean dynasty (Jewish rulers of Judea) and fairly independent rule for the Jews until the Romans came and did... well, what Romans do. Conquer people.

            So obviously this could not cover every detail in Old Testament history, and yet it was still a rather long post. But hey, we just covered over a thousand years of history! I hope, however, that this helps to put some of the Old Testament into context.

            Since this post had a lot to do with rulers, kings, and empires, and since this Sunday was the Church's celebration of the Solemnity of Christ the King, my recommended Scripture reading for this week is 1 Samuel 8. As you reflect on this passage, compare and contrast this warning about earthly kings with Christ who is king of heaven and earth. What does it mean for you to have God as king? What do you think the kingdom of God is like? Given the rather unfortunate history with earthly rulers that unfolds in the Old Testament, do you think a kingdom of justice, peace, charity, mercy, and self-sacrifice with God's own son as king can make a difference in our own time? What do you hope for if/when you pray "thy kingdom come"?

            As always, I am grateful to hear from readers any comments or questions. Don't forget to subscribe in the "Follow the Codega" box. And tune in next week to learn more about the wisdom/poetical books!

Peace and all good things, and have a joyful Thanksgiving!

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[1] Michael D. Coogan, The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 175.

[2] Coogan, 178.